My Only Dream

Come to think of it, cameras were something I had never really gotten along with.

Back when I was a guy, "shooting" wasn't a word usually associated with cameras.

It was a term reserved for medical scans using specialized equipment, like X-rays or MRIs.

My parents used to take photos of me from time to time, but it wasn't a frequent occurrence.

They never looked particularly happy while taking them, after all.

It couldn't have been very pleasant to document their son dying a little more each day.

When you see a face every day, it's hard to notice the gradual change.

But flipping through photos from weeks, months, or years ago had a way of making the passage of time painfully clear.

Even though they hated it, my parents still took a picture of me about once a month.

In any case, cameras were a device I could never quite warm up to.

Recently, Lee Seul-bi had dragged me to a photo booth, but that was a setup where we pressed the shutter ourselves.

The situation now, with a professional camera crew standing in front of me, was entirely different.

Cameras made me uncomfortable.

So, it wouldn't be all that strange if I ended up trembling like a leaf during this shoot.

"H-Hello... H-Hello..."

How should I put this?

It felt like a minor detail had snowballed into a massive ordeal.

When I thought about it, all I had done was update Na Jia on how I was doing.

Yet, before I knew it, a broadcast program was being produced with me as the star.

They must have secured a decent amount of funding, too, because the production scale was surprisingly legitimate.

It certainly wasn't a bad thing for me.

It was true that I had been given an opportunity others could only dream of.

Aspiring pro gamers out there would probably be green with envy.

But...

Surely I was allowed to scream a little on the inside, right?

There are too many people, it's agonizing! The pressure is insane because I can't afford to mess this up!

Just how many people were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠involved in this single project?

From the key decision-makers I met during the meeting phase to the camera crew standing here right now.

Even in places I couldn't see, countless people were probably running around, busy with preparations.

Now that it had begun, there was absolutely no stopping it!

I couldn't let all these people's hard work go to waste just because of my childish complaints.

I should have put my foot down and refused from the start.

But I had let things slide too easily, comforted by the thought that Hero was on my side.

No. Strictly speaking, I never even had the chance to refuse.

'We've decided to accept the proposal Na Jia brought to us.'

'I'm sure this was decided after careful discussion, so I trust you'll do your best, Nabi.'

'Since we're doing this, I'll give it my all too. Let's work hard together.'

Na Jia had definitely said she would just ask them to review it first.

Yet, Hero had appeared before me with almost everything already prepared, radiating an energetic, "let's do this together!" vibe.

The atmosphere made it completely impossible to say no.

Wait. Now that I thought about it, did I get played?

Was I completely outmaneuvered by Hero, who was already a seasoned professional in the real world?

No... surely not.

I must have looked incredibly spaced out.

The director spoke up.

"We have plenty of time scheduled for the shoot, so you can take it slow. First, please give us a brief self-introduction."

"A-A self-introduction?"

"Just start with the absolute basics. Your name, your in-game name, and what classes you mainly play. Let's go with that."

"Ah..."

Gulp.

I swallowed hard, losing track of how many times I'd done so already.

The saving grace was that no one on the crew tried to rush me.

Even though my sluggish responses must have been frustrating, they didn't show any irritation.

Thanks to that, I was able to calm my racing heart bit by bit and organize my thoughts.

"M-My name is... Yu Nabi. In Infinity Realm, I play under the username DoNotTalkToMe. My main classes are Berserker and Grim Reaper."

"Is there a reason you chose that username?"

"Well... I have an anxiety disorder. I've been extremely shy since I was little. So... it was hard to focus on the game, which is why... I made it that."

Honestly, I felt so ashamed.

I had just announced to a crowd of people that I had a disorder.

A sharp pang of humiliation, as if I had exposed my deepest, darkest secret to the world, pricked at my chest.

I knew.

I knew it wasn't something I could hide even if I tried.

I couldn't look people in the eye, my gaze darted around constantly, and I stuttered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over my words.

Everyone in this room had probably already noticed my social anxiety disorder.

Seeing how firmly the director kept the set under control, they might have even been tipped off beforehand.

Even so, admitting it with my own mouth was on a completely different level.

Some people might only remember the heavy word "disorder."

No one had forced me to do this, but it was something I had to do.

"Do you know what this shoot is about?"

"I heard it's going to document... my entire journey to becoming a pro gamer. Whether I succeed or fail, it will show everything."

"Yes, that's correct. You can think of it as a sort of documentary of your challenge. The production team will support your journey, Nabi, but we cannot guarantee the final outcome."

The director's term, "documentary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of your challenge," sounded quite fitting.

This broadcast couldn't guarantee my success as a professional gamer.

The outcome was entirely up to my own effort and skill.

The show would only display the process of my attempt to turn pro.

That was also why I had revealed my disorder.

This broadcast had to be honest and real.

The moment falsehood crept in, my dreams and my challenges would become a lie as well.

I could endure the shame of confessing my disorder, but I couldn't bear the thought of the dream I had envisioned over and over on my hospital bed becoming a lie.

"Lastly, could you share a word of determination?"

"I'll... work hard. I r-really want to become a pro gamer. It's my only dream."

Lee Hwan was a long-time fan of SnowWitch.

He wasn't the type to follow a specific player; rather, he had fallen in love with the team itself.

He had been captivated by their relentless aggressiveness, which never faded even in crucial matches.

However, esports as a hobby had long gaps.

Not only were there off-season breaks, but even during the active season, a single team would have several rest days between matches.

There was a reason fans practically lived on community forums every day.

There were still two days left until SnowWitch's next match.

Until then, he had to kill time by rewatching old matches or predicting the outcomes of other games.

As Hwan was idling away the hours, some welcome news arrived.

A video had been uploaded to the team's official channel.

Judging by the completely unfamiliar series title, it seemed to be a newly planned project.

But when Hwan saw the title, he tilted his head in confusion.

As far as he knew, there was no pro gamer named "Yu Nabi."

The reaction on the community forum he refreshed was much the same.

Only then did he notice the video tag: "SW Academy."

It meant she wasn't even on the secondary roster, let alone the main team he was hoping for, but he didn't stop the video.

He didn't have any high expectations.

He was simply curious because it was a video uploaded by his favorite team.

In any case, he was perfectly content as long as it helped him kill some time.

The intro introducing the trainee came to an end.

The moment the first interview scene appeared, Hwan instinctively paused the video.

Ah, wait. Hold on a second.

She's not a game character, is it really okay to react like this?

That was close.

Hwan barely managed to regain his composure.

He clicked back, deleted the post he was writing, and hit play on the video again.

The paused image of Yu Nabi began to move again, and her voice flowed out.

From that exact moment, his reason for watching the video was no longer just to cure his boredom.

A beauty so breathtaking it made his chest tighten filled the monitor screen.

There were plenty of famously beautiful women in the world, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he had never felt this way looking at any of them.

For the first time in his life, he realized that someone could lose their mind simply because another person was beautiful.

— "H-Hello... H-Hello..."

Was her first impression a bit different from what he expected?

He had assumed that a beauty of her caliber would be bright and poised, just like any other celebrity.

Yet, the Yu Nabi on the screen looked far more awkward and nervous than even an ordinary person.

But why?

That very awkwardness resonated with Hwan even more.

He disliked it when streamers or celebrities hovered around the esports scene.

To be precise, he detested how lightly they threw around the word "professional."

When they had no intention of actually committing to it. When they weren't even that passionate.

Other sports strictly demarcated the professional and amateur realms, so he couldn't understand why esports was treated so casually.

To someone like Hwan, Yu Nabi's stuttering, nervous demeanor felt far more genuine.

— "I'll... work hard."

— "I r-really want to become a pro gamer."

— "It's my only dream."

Yu Nabi was not a polished, media-trained person.

She was just an ordinary person who happened to become famous while playing games.

Yet, despite admitting to having an anxiety disorder... she hadn't stuttered once when speaking of her only dream.

She was a gamer who truly loved the game.

He watched the video to the very end, utterly spellbound.

A few days later, the name "Yu Nabi" became far more famous in the esports scene than her username, "DoNotTalkToMe."

Whether people were simply captivated by her looks or moved by her attitude.

In the end, Yu Nabi was someone destined to draw the world's attention.