The Price of Victory

We won the second set without much trouble.

Three kills as the vanguard. Objectively, it was a massive achievement, and personally, it was a highly satisfying result.

The ultimate honor in a winner-stays-on format would be an all-kill, but that was nothing more than a pipe dream.

Even in pro-versus-amateur matches, such instances were incredibly rare.

At any rate, my teammates calmly cleaned up the remaining opponents, bringing the match to an end.

Endure and I secured a 2-0 set score, claiming victory in our debut match.

I was naturally thrilled, and even Endure, who rarely showed emotion, looked subtly excited.

Honestly, even I thought I deserved some praise today.

I fully intended to demand that beef dinner from Hero.

But just as my spirits were beginning to soar, an unexpected trial presented itself.

A member of the league operations staff knocked and entered our waiting room.

"Nabi, Endure. Please get ready for the POG interview. We'll need you to wait here for a moment."

Come to think of it, it made sense.

Putting on an objectively outstanding performance was synonymous with easily being selected as the POG—Player of the Game.

So, it was only natural that I would have to do a post-match interview.

No. I really wished it wasn't natural.

Honestly, I felt like I'd just been struck by lightning.

I won. I clearly won, so why was I being punished?

Something was wrong. This felt entirely backward.

Suddenly, I resented the entire world!

I felt like I was being subjected to a grave injustice, but no one sympathized with me.

From my teammates to the coaching staff, everyone wore expressions that said, You definitely played well today. Good for you. Go enjoy it.

By the time I snapped back to reality, I was already standing on the main stage.

Not just one, but several cameras were moving around, filming Endure and me.

"Hello, everyone! Today, we have the pleasure of conducting the POG interview for the SnowWitch versus ACL match with two fresh new faces. Congratulations on your victory!"

"Thank you," Endure replied.

"…Ah. T-Thank you!" I squeaked.

My only consolation was that I wasn't alone.

Perhaps because he had served as a reliable shield throughout the first game, my fellow rookie was standing right beside me.

It was true that I could run wild during the game only because Endure had held ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the front line so well.

Providing solid cover right when I needed it—our dependable tank had saved my skin more than once or twice.

Even now, in the middle of this interview, he was answering first to buy me some time.

It also helped that the interviewer was giving us plenty of time.

Seeing someone I had only ever watched on screen standing this close felt surreal.

"First of all, there were so many close calls in the first game, right? Every time, Endure, you stepped up to block the danger. Was there a secret to that, or perhaps some pre-arranged calls?"

"Well, I've had many opportunities to build synergy with Yu Nabi since our trainee days. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It might surprise people, but she isn't actually a difficult player to protect as a tank. She rarely dives in when backup is impossible."

Wait, this guy. He's surprisingly well-spoken.

I thought he was a fellow introvert, but he had an unexpected side to him.

At this rate, I would be the only idiot stuttering and fumbling through the interview.

It would be fine if we were both struggling, but standing next to someone so composed only made me look worse by comparison.

I braced myself and tried to organize my thoughts.

Endure's signature class, Guardian, was specialized in protecting allies, just as the name suggested.

What made it notable was that it had several skills capable of supporting allies even from a distance.

If I excluded the crucial skills reserved for emergencies and narrowed down the list to the ones he could spare for me... the number was surprisingly small.

Tracking those cooldowns wasn't that difficult.

The rest was simply trusting Endure, who was a top-tier tank.

In terms of defensive play, Endure was highly rated within the team.

He had excellent map awareness and always kept an eye on me, and I never had to doubt his ability to manage his health and guard gauge.

As long as he had the means to protect me, Endure would never let me down.

Having sorted out my thoughts to this point, I finally opened my mouth.

"S-So... uh. Um. I t-t-trusted him."

"Ah~ So you played with absolute trust in Endure."

"Yes..."

Huh? The meaning got slightly distorted.

Well, I did trust him, so I guess it doesn't matter?

At my response, Endure cast a sidelong glance at me.

It was an unreadable look.

I didn't dare ask, so I just pretended not to notice.

For some reason, everyone looked a bit awkward.

Fortunately, the interviewer moved on to the next question as if it were no big deal.

"In the second set, Yu Nabi, your combat prowess was absolutely overwhelming. The fan response has been incredibly passionate. Did you anticipate this kind of reaction?"

"Uh... a-about that..."

It wasn't that I hadn't anticipated it, but it was a tricky question to answer on the spot.

To be honest, the second set was just a pure gap in skill.

But saying their attacks felt too slow and predictable seemed incredibly rude.

Even I possessed a modicum of social awareness.

Or rather, it was more accurate to say I hadn't thrown my manners out the window.

Fortunately, my family members were quite eloquent, and I had secretly picked up a communication technique they used in times like this.

If you're about to criticize someone, redirect the conversation and praise someone else instead.

That way, you could deflect the credit and even project a humble image!

"Our... coach is just so strong. He's stronger than most active players... so practicing with him helped a lot."

Surprisingly, Hero was weak to praise.

Whenever I pointed this out, he would shudder and say it reminded him of someone, but it was still true that he enjoyed it.

He couldn't hide his satisfaction.

Since I had hyped him up so publicly, wasn't he probably grinning somewhere while pretending to be indifferent?

I was definitely getting that beef.

Fortunately, the rest of the interview wasn't too difficult.

My communication skills were already a well-known disaster within the team.

Endure stepped in ahead of time, allowing me to quietly ride his coattails.

Unfortunately, I couldn't escape completely.

"Now, to wrap things up, could we ask for a quick victory pose? Since you both have such quiet images, many fans are eager to see one."

Why did they expect so much from someone who could barely handle a basic interview?

I felt a brief surge of resentment toward the interviewer, but it didn't change my reality.

It wasn't like she was doing this out of malice.

Still, I hadn't prepared any kind of victory pose.

In the end, I had no choice but to fall back on the gesture my body remembered best.

"P-Peace..."

No, seriously. I couldn't think of anything else.

Hero kept his promise.

For Endure and me, it was a victorious debut. For the existing second-string players and the team as a whole, it was the perfect opportunity to turn the momentum around.

Since there was plenty of reason to celebrate, a team dinner was organized.

The menu, as promised, was beef. The savory aroma of sizzling meat wafted through the air.

Fortunately, I managed to claim a corner seat. Hehe. I waited eagerly for the meat to cook.

At first, I wondered why the seat next to me was empty, but it seemed everyone had intentionally left it for Hero.

A familiar hand patted my back, and its owner slid into the seat beside me.

Knowing exactly who it was, I gave a polite little bow.

"Congratulations on the win. I quite liked your interview."

"T-Thank you."

"Nabi, you're of age, right? Can you drink?"

"I've never tried it before..."

"Really? It's usually best to learn from your parents, but I won't force you. Just try one glass for now."

Glug, glug. Clear alcohol filled the small glass.