Can You Pull It Off? (2)

Clink! The two glasses met and rang out a bright, cheerful note.

“Tonight’s on me. Eat as much as you want.”

“For real? Heh! Getting my drinks bought by Jaeha… guess you really do have to live long enough to see everything.”

Hyung’s eyes lit up as he snatched the menu.

A company dinner, now that the live broadcast was over. Between K1’s enormous donation at the end and Taeya generously declaring that he himself “hadn’t done anything, so he’d take the split at seven-to-three,” their finances had grown considerably more comfortable. Lavish foreign liquor, expensive bar snacks, as much as they wanted…!

“Three servings of samgyeopsal, and one bottle each of soju and beer, please~!”

…was not, in fact, what they ordered.

They’d come to a barbecue joint near hyung’s place. Neither of them was the sort to particularly enjoy fancy food or expensive alcohol in the first place. Even right before the end of the world, they’d been nursing beer gone lukewarm in some hole-in-the-wall bar. What was the point?

“Today was seriously insane, Jaeha!”

Hyung set a beautifully browned piece of pork belly on my plate as he spoke.

“Look at this. I screenshotted it earlier.”

He pulled out his phone and held it up to me. The live popularity rankings on the streaming app.

Taeya’s broadcast was in first. His viewer count had swollen to several dozen times the usual, which meant a massive flood of outside traffic had poured in.

No wonder he raised my cut without a fight.

He was quietly pocketing his profit somewhere else.

“You know what it means that this many people watched a broadcast where you were the star, right?”

“It means I got that much more famous.”

“Exactly. For someone preparing to go pro, fame is a serious weapon!”

From here on, any team that wanted to sign me would have to pay for something beyond my skill. They’d be paying for the right to use the character called Shin Jaeha as the team’s publicity.

“Of course, it’s too early to relax. Fame that comes fast evaporates just as fast. If you want to lock down what you gained today and make it truly yours, you’ve got to show them something even more solid.”

“That’s what my first broadcast is going to be for.”

I dipped the pork belly on my plate in sesame oil and put it in my mouth. The nutty, chewy taste of fresh samgyeopsal wrapped softly around my tongue. That’s right… we were eating nothing less than fresh pork belly. Not frozen! Fresh!

“If you can hold on to even a tenth of today’s buzz on a regular basis, the contracts teams slide in front of you are going to look completely different.”

“Now that sounds tempting. Who needs bar snacks? This is the snack!”

“Hah! You’re right! This is the snack!”

Hyung drained his somaek — soju and beer mixed at the golden ratio — in a single go and let out a refreshed breath.

“…But are you really okay?”

“With what?”

“K1. Honestly, I thought you’d contact them right away. That’s what any normal person would do.”

He wasn’t wrong. How many players in Korea could turn down an offer from K1? A pro who’d already found his own color, maybe. An unranked nobody merely receiving an offer from K1 was shocking enough — and he hadn’t even accepted on the spot.

“K1 is on another level. Enough to make a place like Sky Epic look like nothing.”

“I know. That’s where Nam Siwoo’s the captain, isn’t it? And Hwarang Group… don’t even get me started.”

“Just my personal opinion, but I think it’s worth at least talking to K1. And if the two of you click, who knows? You might actually end up signing.”

Signing with K1. The summit of the KPL, the seat everyone who dreamed of going pro looked up to. A lifelong wish some people would never reach had walked right up in front of me.

But.

Unfortunately, I had no intention of joining K1. Not now.

“I’ve got a plan for all of it. You don’t need to worry so much, hyung.”

“Yeah? Then forget it. You’ll handle it. You always do.”

He didn’t push his thoughts any further — even knowing that, objectively, refusing this offer was the act of a fool.

Heh. A hollow little laugh slipped out at the sheer weight of that trust.

“All right, next topic…”

Sizzle! Hyung laid a fresh strip of pork belly on the grill.

“How’d you do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it?”

“Do what?”

“That strength. Finding a hidden gimmick, fine — I’ll grant you that. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders.”

The meat browned, and the smell of charcoal tickled the tip of my nose.

“But how on earth did you get that strong? Did you seriously have some great awakening out of grief and rage after leaving Sky Epic?”

“What am I, a Saiyan?”

Getting stronger by turning anger into power? I snorted in disbelief and knocked back the soju in my glass.

I can tell hyung, at least.

Not just anyone. Jeong Suhyuk. The beginning and the end of every bond I’d had before the regression — and the person I’d be knocking shoulders with for the rest of my life.

Of course, the moment I mention the regression he’ll book me a psych consult, so that part stays buried.

I told him exactly one truth. That my Constitution had evolved.

“Your Constitution evolved…?”

“I was surprised too.”

I stitched the middle of the story together out of things from before the regression until it sounded plausible.

“S-so what rank is it now?!”

“S-rank.”

“…?!”

In front of my stunned hyung, I pulled up my status window and showed him the Constitution entry by itself.

“Ghk… ghk…!”

Of course he was shocked. An S-rank Constitution, something only five people in the entire world possessed, and now I had one. Screaming wouldn’t have been strange at all…

“Th… thank god…”

“…Huh?”

Contrary to everything I’d expected, he set his glass down and suddenly burst into tears. I knew he turned sentimental the moment alcohol got in him. Still—

“Waaaaah!”

Watching him suddenly bawl like that threw me even harder.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was when you quit everything and walked out? The kid who used to go on and on about becoming a pro… As your hyung, it killed me just watching you cling to a dream that was never going to work…”

“…….”

“But you finally… you finally get to see the light… I’m so glad… waaaaah!”

“You’re a grown man. Crying over something like this is disgusting.”

…Yeah. This was the kind of person he was. Even when I’d become a useless player with zero mana. Even when I’d turned into a defective product nobody anywhere would take. Hyung, and only hyung, had always believed in me and stayed at my side.

“Heh… if you cry over something this small, what are you going to do? There’s a lot left ahead. Cry every time and you’ll die of dehydration.”

“Hngh! I can’t die until I’ve eaten a full-course beef dinner on your dime!”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I let out a small laugh at hyung, sniffling and talking big. Funny, considering he actually preferred pork belly and still ran his mouth.

Right. If nothing else, for a future where I can buy hyung all the beef he wants.

I’d have to fasten the next button cleanly, too.

Ding! Ding!

All that remained was the final placement match.

“You! Block that!”

“Ugh……!”

A blow drove into his side. Park Gyubo, sent sprawling, bit down hard on his lip and pushed himself up off the floor.

“That’s it for training today! Everyone, go rest!”

“Thank you for the hard work!”

The Sky Epic players shouted in unison.

“Ugh… fuck…”

“Gyubo. You’re making way too many mistakes today.”

The coach came over to Park Gyubo with a worried look.

“You okay? Something hurt? Want me to clear tomorrow’s training?”

“…No. That won’t be necessary. My condition was just off today. It won’t happen again starting tomorrow.”

“Good, then. Get some rest.”

The moment the coach stepped back, Park Gyubo slammed his fist into the floor. Today’s training had been a complete disaster. Attacks he could have blocked while yawning on a normal day had all landed, and every one of his own swings had missed. The reason was entirely yesterday’s broadcast.

“Shin Jaeha…! How did that piece of trash…!”

He’d watched Taeya’s stream yesterday too. It had been the talk of everywhere to begin with, and with it sitting at number one on the popularity rankings, finding someone who hadn’t seen it was the rarer thing.

That guy got that strong? In just a few days?

It didn’t make sense. He wanted to accept it, and he couldn’t. Not long ago the kid had been a sandbag — someone Gyubo beat whenever he felt like it, someone he called over to blow off steam. And now he was a prospect on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠level of K1 reaching out first.

“Damn it! It’s a scam! He’s scamming everyone, I know it!”

No point hiding it: Park Gyubo was a desperate fan of K1 himself, and a player who dreamed of signing there. Nam Siwoo, the captain, especially — Gyubo was enough of a superfan to secretly collect his merch.

They wouldn’t spare me a single glance until I made Sky Epic’s starting roster, and then this trash shows up, pulls off a couple impressive plays, and they come running? For him?

Infuriating. So infuriating he couldn’t stand it.

“Aaaaaagh!”

After thrashing around the empty training room for a long while, he finally gave up, finished his shower, and walked into the lounge. Someone was already there.

“…!”

Long white hair, a slender figure. A woman with an air as mysterious as a flower blooming in a field of snow. Sky Epic’s first-team archer, Baek Heeyeon.

“Ahem!”

Park Gyubo cleared his throat and deliberately dropped his voice.

“Hey, Heeyeon. What are you doing in the lounge all by yourself? Don’t tell me you were waiting for me? Haha!”

“…….”

“…Hey. Say something.”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Park Gyubo had a one-sided crush on Baek Heeyeon. The reason, obviously, was her face. Her personality was a little peculiar, but that face alone was beautiful enough to slap a decent actress twice and still come out ahead. It was also why she was Sky Epic’s biggest star — her uniforms outsold everyone else’s. And she had the skill to match, of course.

“Hahaha… perfect timing. As the team’s two great pillars, there’s something important we ought to discuss. This season…”

Brrring! Before Park Gyubo could even finish, an alert chimed on Baek Heeyeon’s phone. She checked it. And her face— brightened. Just barely.

Sh-she smiled?! Baek Heeyeon?!

Her expressions changed so little that the public had a running theory she suffered from facial paralysis. Even Park Gyubo, who’d faced her as a teammate more times than he could count, had never once seen her make a face at all.

“Sorry. Let’s talk later.”

“Uh… huh?”

“Something urgent came up.”

“W-wait…!”

Before he had a chance to grab her, Baek Heeyeon hurried off to her room. She dropped straight onto the bed, wrapped herself in the blanket, and tapped the alert.

The one she had waited and waited for. Shin Jaeha’s final placement match.

The moment she entered the broadcast, a familiar face filled the screen — a face she’d never seen in his Sky Epic days, when all he ever wore was that mournful look.

“Well then — hello, everyone. Aigoo, look at this crowd.”

A face thrown wide open with confidence.

“Thank you all for the follows. As promised, today we’re running the final placement match, all the way through to the rank reveal.”

Baek Heeyeon smiled, so faintly it barely showed. Then, into a chat climbing at a terrifying speed, she timidly left a single message.

One truly timid line of chat…

“Th… this person is a little too excited. Easy. Easy now.”

Shin Jaeha, reading her message, flinched, one brow twitching in alarm. Anyway. That was that, and this was this.

“All right, let’s begin! The final match of the placement test!”

At last, the thing everyone had been waiting for. The final placement match began.