Hongdae Reunion and Million-Dollar Maneuvers
The scenery flashing past the train window was beginning to whisper hints of spring.
Tender green buds dotted the ends of gray branches, and roadside grass pushed through the winter-compressed soil, lifting its head defiantly.
True to Korea's unpredictable weather, the cold winter winds still cut like knives, but woven into them was a strangely soft warmth.
Siwoo rested his chin on his hand, gazing out the window.
Winter's finally winding down.
He'd been granted a weekend off.
In the crucial stretch deciding the top spot in the first round of the league, it felt like too much time away—but the coach insisted that rest and stability were vital at times like these, handing out two full days.
Normally, he'd have stayed at the team HQ, analyzing other players' footage, studying, and brainstorming new strategies.
But this weekend was special, so he was heading home.
It's been a while.
He was off to meet his friends from Saseong High—the ones who'd teamed up with him for the Series Cup. Han Jiyeon, of course, plus Kim Jeongin, Park Jongsu, and Lee Jinseong.
Jiyeon had set it up, probably bummed they hadn't hung out during the Lunar New Year break.
Unfortunately, with Mom focusing on recovery after chemo and his big sister swamped with her own prep, family time would be limited.
Mom needed to prioritize healing, and Siyeon had her hands full too.
Anyway.
I wonder how they've been.
They'd texted on K-Talk whenever possible, but with school restarting for them and league prep dominating his life, contact had inevitably thinned out.
Siwoo regretted that a bit, but thanks to Jiyeon, he'd get to see the whole crew.
After switching from subway to bus, he arrived at the meetup spot.
Hongdae—a name no Korean could forget.
A chaotic blend of art, commerce, romance, and noise, yet that very mess bred a strange sense of freedom.
Undisciplined, that's why it's charming. Always evolving, that's why it's forever young.
"Yo, who's this?! Siwoo?!"
A familiar voice rang out.
"Oh, Jongsu—long time."
It was Park Jongsu.
"No kidding, it's been forever! Caught your last match—killer stuff!"
Jongsu bounced like a kid meeting his idol.
"Haha, you watch all my games?"
"Duh!"
Jongsu puffed out his chest.
"Lee Siwoo, the guy devouring OCK? That's my buddy! I brag nonstop about teaming with you in the Series Cup. Even my bro's begging for your autograph."
Siwoo chuckled.
"Want me to sign one?"
"Nah, my brother's gotta fix his habits first."
Offered it on a silver platter, and he turns it down.
But that made them feel even more like real bros.
"Where're the others?"
"Should be here soon—they're all nearby, from what they said."
Siwoo and Jongsu scanned the crowd. The meetup time was closing in...
"Siwoo!"
"It's Lee Siwoo! For real?!"
Right on cue, Kim Jeongin and Lee Jinseong came sprinting from the bus stop, grinning ear to ear. Jiyeon trailed behind, smiling as she walked.
"Meeting the league's first attacker like this... dream come true!"
"Siwoo, handshake? Wait—no, lemme wash my hands first!"
True to form, the duo turned greetings into jokes. Their easy vibe cracked Siwoo up.
"What kinda nonsense is that."
"Sorry, these idiots got too hyped and lost it..."
Jiyeon pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head at their skyrocketing energy.
"Talk later—food first. Reservation time."
She checked her watch and pointed to the restaurant.
"Sweet—time to party hard with Siwoo today."
"Ugh, quit with the trash talk!"
Kim Jeongin smacked Lee Jinseong's back full force.
"Ow, that hurts!"
"No trash mouth."
"Fine..."
Jinseong deflated a bit, but with the old vibes back, that was progress enough, right?
Siwoo laughed as he headed into the restaurant with his friends.
Compared to other games, Overlant didn't have a long history, but pro teams were a dime a dozen.
It was a VR game sweeping the world like a storm, and from the start, it had launched tournaments to pioneer esports.
Thus, clubs sprouted worldwide.
China alone was pushing toward twenty teams. Sure, that was unique to them—most leagues ran with just ten.
Anyway, the esports boom, fueled by tech advances, drew massive investments everywhere.
Prime examples:
OCS (Overlant Championship Series).
OPL (Overlant Pro League).
The North American (OCS) and Chinese (OPL) leagues.
Matching their economic might, these two dominated with capital, backed by huge populations and domestic markets.
Saudi money was in play too, but the grown-ups there preferred sponsoring existing teams over building their own league.
And so.
"We must bring him in."
North American and Chinese Overlant clubs always kept a sharp eye on Korea's OCK.
Koreans' gaming talent still shone as brilliantly as ever.
They couldn't fathom how such a small nation, year after year, produced world-class prodigies alongside its population constraints.
But Korean gamers' legendary skills were tradition, so they bet big on it.
"Siwoo Lee—the hottest name in OCK right now. Mechanics go without saying, but his positioning and trait sense are top-tier too."
Several teams had their eyes on Siwoo, but Cloud7 (C7) from North America stood out.
"His current estimated salary?"
"140,000 dollars."
"High for a debut rookie."
"Kaiserst ranks low but has deep pockets."
C7's GM, Markwood, nodded thoughtfully.
"140k? Offer 20 times that, he'll come."
"That's 2.8 million dollars."
"Worth every penny."
2.8 million dollars—over 4 billion won. Yet Markwood smirked, unfazed.
"Has an OCK prospect ever flopped? Look at the East's three great attackers—all Korean."
Most Korean prospects delivered. Investments paid off.
Sure, some struggled with language, culture shock, homesickness—but even excluding them, the hit rate was stellar.
"Siwoo's contract left?"
"10 months."
"Transfer fee of 100k should cover it."
"You're investing 100k?"
"Don't wanna burn bridges with Kaiserst."
Unlike soccer, Overlant transfers with fees were rare. Most contracts were one-year deals.
Why splash extra cash on a one-year guy? Wait for free agency.
Except.
"But we need to pay a fee for him. Attackers are urgent. Worlds qualification next season—no exceptions. Round 2 can be his adjustment period."
NA and China played differently.
Grab them early, build experience—then dominate next season. Adapt to the new scene, crash language crash courses.
This sniped plenty of Korean talents already.
"Got it. I'll prep the docs."
"Do it."
Markwood nodded with a grin.
His willingness stemmed not just from Korean prospects' reliability.
Siwoo Lee—a talent like no other.
Among all prospects, Siwoo was the most explosive.
Even North America's top attacker 'Jaehyeok Yoon' needed a debut season to adjust. He peaked in year two.
Siwoo? Stormed the league from day one.
Last year, he crushed A1—OCK's third pillar—in Asia Masters. Violently so.
Overreliant on mechanics? Nah. That was a bonus to his game sense.
Skimp on transfer fee? Salary?
Fire the GM.
Absurd.
Other teams are circling too.
Markwood clenched his fist, anxiety flickering at the thought of losing him.
Team name: IBG.
IB from Invincible—sometimes called Avi Gaming instead of IB Gaming.
A team with real history.
Entered esports in 2019 as a rising powerhouse, filling the void left by fallen Chinese squads to become China's flagship.
Founded August 2, 2019, by Zu Yuan—then a chaebol heir—who bought it for 7 million dollars. HQ in Shanghai, China.
Zu Yuan, owner, heads the global megacorp Guangda Group, top-tier Chinese billionaire. Lifelong gaming fanatic.
Translation: Money for games? Bottomless.
"Lee Siwoo, Korea's rising star."
IB ops leader Wang Suchun said.
"He'd shore up our weak attacker line—Xiao Wei's spot. Main sniper, but handles rifles well too. Wide weapon pool."
Manager Zheng Hao asked.
"What about current guy Xiao Wei?"
"Trade him or bench to second team."
Cold on a longtime player? Welcome to China's billion-dollar pro scene. Gotta cut like a blade.
Sure, guanxi networks existed—but results bought more favor from Guangda Group.
"Hmm."
Zheng Hao stroked his chin, scanning the tablet of curated data.
"DPS and KDA off the charts. Footage is insane. This from debut season...? Way beyond past Korean prospects."
Siwoo's plays in the vids were otherworldly.
Ghostly aim tracking, recoil mastery, positioning that dodged focus fire, skills dropped perfectly.
A finished product.
"How much?"
"One more thing first."
Ops sent another file.
"Right now, NA's C7 and China's Jingdon need attackers bad. Competition's fierce—budget generously."
"So, ballpark?"
"His salary's 1 million yuan now. Minimum 10x. Panic buys possible."
A smile tugged at Zheng Hao's lips.
"10x for this super prospect? Go big—30x, 30 million yuan. Builds goodwill, shakes off the riffraff."
30 million yuan.
About 6 billion won—but pocket change for IBG.
"I'll pitch the chairman myself."
Zheng Hao grabbed his smartphone.