Live Viewing

A bright, sunny weekend afternoon.

"This is the place?"

"Yeah…"

I flicked on my sunglasses and took in the stadium spread out before me.

The finals of the Legend of Legend international tournament had settled on Seoul versus Beijing. After a brutal back-and-forth in the semis, Seoul had once again clawed past Suwon and advanced, which was a relief. This stadium was Seoul’s home ground, after all. If Seoul had gone down, the atmosphere would’ve been a nightmare.

I snuck a few glances around while letting that relief settle in. Seonyeong, who’d come with me, kept darting little looks my way. She’d been doing it the whole ride over. Probably just awkward. Fair enough—your boyfriend’s older sister was basically a stranger.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

"Ah, n-no reason…"

Just in case, I’d shown up in a cap and sunglasses. Outfit was casual too. Originally I’d planned to buy a jersey on-site since I was already here, but the lines had been ridiculous.

"Heh, hehe…"

Unlike me, the vending-machine thief beside me had rolled up in the full kit—jersey, headband, cheer stick, the works. One look at the gear and it was clear she was nowhere near a casual fan.

"Nervous?"

"Y-yeah… If we win this, it’s our first international title in three years."

"Three years is pretty solid."

Making the finals again three years later meant they were a genuinely good team. I hadn’t watched that many games, but Seoul clearly had the chops.

"More than that, unnie…"

"Hm?"

"Ah, never mind. Shall we head in?"

"Yeah, let’s go."

The venue itself was massive. Beyond the main stage where the matches were played, there were booths and attractions everywhere, and the crowds thronged in thick clusters. Just how many people was this? I’d heard Rel tournaments were popular, but I hadn’t expected this scale.

"There’s a ton of people."

"Right? Tickets sold out in ten minutes."

Seonyeong puffed her shoulders with pride at how popular her team was and took the lead. I followed, scanning the surroundings. With this many bodies, plenty of people glanced our way as they passed—perfectly normal. No one recognized me, though. Between the sunglasses and the fact that most people here didn’t care about models in the first place, it made sense. Public recognition hinged on media exposure, and I hadn’t been on TV in five or six years. Anyone who still spotted me would be the weird one. Fashion-magazine junkies or hardcore style fans maybe, but that was about it.

"Unnie, c-can you take a picture of me?"

We drifted through the crowd, and every time we hit a photo zone I snapped shots of Seonyeong.

"Want me to take one of you too?"

"Hm? I’m good."

Not like I was posting it on Instagram. I was here purely to watch the match, sunglasses on, no stress.

"Whoa, look at this…"

I trailed after Seonyeong as she zipped around like a squirrel on a sugar high, taking in the sights at a leisurely pace. The vibe was solid. Surprisingly a lot of couples, too. So that was why Aseong had wanted to come. He’d ended up stuck going to the academic conference with Dad instead, shaking hands with professors. The mental image made me laugh. If he’d gone into math, those connections would’ve been pure gold. Mechanical engineering made the whole network feel a little awkward.

"Unnie, want to draw something?"

"Hm?"

While I was still picturing Aseong being dragged off that morning with a face like death, Seonyeong shoved a big sheet of paper at me.

"What’s this?"

"Cheer pool."

"Ah."

Those cardboard signs fans always waved during tournament broadcasts. Looking around, people were already hard at work drawing pictures or writing slogans.

"I’m terrible at drawing."

"Writing’s fine too!"

The stadium energy had Seonyeong’s hype cranked all the way up; she dove into her artwork while I looked down at my own blank cheer pool and scrawled something out.

"What is that?"

"Hm? Nothing."

"No, the arrows…"

A little teasing for my little brother’s girlfriend was fair game, right? Seonyeong stared at my cheer pool, speechless for a second, then—

"Mm… well, they are a strong team…"

—she nodded to herself, apparently pleased that the description fit. …Maybe I should’ve written UnderdogAddict instead? Anyway.

With the cheer pools finished, we headed into the actual arena. The stands still weren’t completely full as we cut across and found our seats.

"We’re right up front."

"Right? You’ll probably be able to see the players’ screens."

Oh… that was actually impressive. Judging by the distance, yeah, maybe I really could.

"When does it start again?"

"About thirty minutes."

"Mm, looking forward to it."

My viewers liked the tournaments too. International finals only happened once a year—everyone who wanted to watch would be parked in front of their screens right now. Maybe I’d even catch a fleeting glimpse of that Red Pill they’d been so curious about. Not that anyone would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever guess it was me.

Anyway…

I’d been zoning out and tapping at my phone when the match kicked off.

"Fighting!"

"Fighting."

I echoed Seonyeong’s cheer and settled in to watch. "Seoul, win this!!"

But while she was fully locked into hyping the team, I was watching with a completely different eye. Who was I? A ten-year Rel veteran, Emerald 1, sitting in the celestial ranks. I’d watched plenty of matches, sure, but the vending-machine thief next to me barely played—our understanding of the game lived on different planets. From my analysis… honestly, the Chinese team looked a little stronger. From the laning phase through coordination and everything else, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the longer the game went, the more objectively Seoul got outplayed. And what I’d spotted early, everyone else eventually caught onto too—because the first set, which had seemed fairly even, just got rolled over.

Except for the small pocket of Beijing fans who’d made the overseas trip, the rest of the crowd’s voices gradually faded. Seonyeong’s irritated muttering beside me was just a bonus. Of course I wasn’t happy either.

"But they still had a chance, right?"

"Yeah, top lane won their side."

"Huh? Oh, you’re right."

Ideally you wanted the Korean team—and the team you’d come to watch live—to take it. So during the break we were nursing the disappointment together when—

"Uh, unnie."

"Why so sudden…"

Seonyeong, mid-conversation, suddenly freaked out and pointed forward. It was the most flustered I’d seen her all day, so I turned toward where she was pointing.

Dead center of the stadium. On the big screen that normally showed the tournament feed, there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I was, sitting there looking blank. The camera had zoomed so tight that only Seonyeong’s flailing arm even made it into frame—basically a solo shot.

"…?"

What were they trying to do, broadcasting some girl in sunglasses looking deadpan— I was still thinking that when the camera smoothly panned away.

"C-camera’s gone."

"Yeah, it left."

"Too bad. With this many people it wouldn’t have been easy to get on screen…"

"Really? I didn’t even know what to do."

I’d expected to get caught eventually, sitting this far forward. I’d even swapped my cheer pool for a normal one after Seonyeong talked me out of the joke version. But when the lens actually hit, I just… blanked.

"Uh, you should do a ceremony or something."

"A ceremony?"

I’d never heard of that; my face must’ve said so, because Seonyeong’s mouth fell open like she’d just realized her mistake.

"Ah, I never told you…!"

Beating herself up, she hurriedly explained Seoul’s signature ceremony—

—and by the time she finished, the next set was already ready to go.

"Seoul fighting."

Hoping they’d take this one.

Seoul and Beijing. The two teams made it crystal clear why they’d earned their spots in an international final. The result: loss, win, loss, win. They traded sets one apiece, and before long we were into the final set of the international championship.

"Whoa, whoa."

Why was the level this high? From mid-game onward I was just watching in pure admiration. I could never play like that. World-class really was a different dimension…

I’d gotten so locked in that by the last set my sunglasses were perched on top of my head. Even the light tint had started to feel annoying.

"Please, please…"

Beside me Seonyeong was praying—eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped. Mom would’ve loved that posture. But if she kept them closed she couldn’t even see the game, so I kept sneaking looks. Every time the casters got hype, she cracked an eye open.

Anyway.

Late game. Both teams poured their souls into a teamfight right in front of the dragon pit.

"Please, please…! Please!"

"Whoa!! Whoa!!"

They absolutely shredded Beijing’s midline and took a crushing teamfight victory.

"Whoa!!"

And in late-game Rel, a full wipe basically meant the match was over. Beijing’s nexus got smashed right after.

"Waaaaah—!!"

The roar of the crowd shook the stadium. Next to me Seonyeong was losing her mind in every possible direction.

"U-unnie, did you see that? Whoa…!"

"Yeah, that was fun."

Coming here had been the right call. Aseong was stuck at that conference and missed the whole thing? Even if he’d made it, he probably wouldn’t have understood half of it. How was he supposed to catch the details of that late-game fight? Memorizing the player names while watching would’ve already been a win for him.

Either way, I’d gotten a delicious match, so it was time to start packing up to leave.

"Didn’t forget anything?"

"Waaaah…"

I hadn’t bought any merch and hadn’t brought anything special, so I was just checking around the seats for dropped stuff when—

"Uh, unnie, the camera!"

Seonyeong, still riding the high, suddenly yelped. Huh? They were putting me on screen now? I looked up and my face filled the entire display. Same tight zoom as before, basically a solo shot. Seriously, go film the fans crying and snotting all over themselves instead. The timing caught me off guard for half a second, but my head was already spinning. Getting flustered just because a camera pointed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at you was weird in the first place.

What was that ceremony she taught me earlier?

And luckily, Seonyeong had just taught me the signature move, hadn’t she? They’d won the match—perfect timing.

So…

I stretched out my hand, formed a V with index and middle finger, then stabbed it straight down like a bipod. And with a sharp flick of my wrist and head, the sunglasses perched on top of my hair slid down into place.

Nailed it, right?

I didn’t bother fighting the satisfied curl of my lips as I stared straight into the camera.

A second later the stadium erupted all over again, the roar loud enough to lift the roof.