Nangin Geomgaek's Path

Back when the mysterious Yone one-trick was still active, countless Leori spectating YouTubers tuned in to watch the games between Nangin Geomgaek and that enigmatic master of Yone.

A clash between two brothers at the absolute peak made for the finest spectator content imaginable — and more than anything, the view counts were absurd. Videos that did nothing more than break down the two of them in a single game racked up as many as three million views.

But the "Brothers' War" came to an end the moment the mysterious Yone one-trick vanished without a trace.

Nangin Geomgaek had been crushed, plain and simple. And yet not a single person blamed him or tore into him for it. Against the mysterious Yone one-trick of that era, nobody had managed a win. The only person who had ever even come close — for a single fleeting moment — was Nangin Geomgaek himself.

And so the Brothers' War ended with the older brother, Yone, utterly dominating the younger. Or rather — everyone thought it was over.

Posts about the mysterious Yone one-trick started flooding a Leori community board — and before long, other communities were lighting up with the same topic.

The result of the rematch between Nangin Geomgaek and the mysterious Yone one-trick was shocking. The Yone one-trick still won, but this time it was different. Before, Nangin Geomgaek had at least been able to trade blows on roughly even footing. This time the gap was overwhelming — the mysterious Yone one-trick simply stomped him into the dirt. The players who had followed the Brothers' War could only stare in disbelief.

Players flooded the boards debating how Nangin Geomgaek could have lost so completely to the mysterious Yone one-trick. And then, in the middle of it all, one post rocketed to the top of the recommendations and got pinned to the community front page.

The post pinned to the front page was nothing less than the news that Nangin Geomgaek had started streaming. People who saw it jumped onto Teu-ichi, searched "NanginGeomgaek00," and piled into his broadcast.

Nangin Geomgaek's stream hit thousands of viewers in an instant. And yet the man who had gone live said absolutely nothing.

The chat dissolved into a war of fans and haters — but Nangin Geomgaek ignored the chaos entirely and queued up.

Once the mysterious Yone one-trick confirmed that Nangin Geomgaek was live, she deleted him from her friends list, leaving a chat that said she'd snipe him on her own once he queued, along with her Teu-ichi ID. He wondered briefly why bother unfriending him if she was going to snipe anyway — but he was the challenger here. He had no choice but to follow the mysterious Yone one-trick's lead.

Before long, a game locked in. Even the trolls who had been torching chat finally quieted down once it became clear the streamer wasn't going to react to any of it.

Bans wrapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up. Only the enemy's final pick remained. As always, Nangin Geomgaek had first-picked Yasuo; the opposing mid still hadn't locked in. Had the snipe failed? The thought crossed his mind — but almost no high-rank players queued at this hour of the morning. It was preseason on top of that, with no LP on the line, so the player pool was even thinner. Conditions for a stream snipe could hardly have been better.

Sure enough, the enemy fifth pick locked in Yone.

The moment the enemy locked Yone, chat erupted. Under normal matchups Yone should have been the one getting bullied — but because of that Yone one-trick, Nangin Geomgaek was the one who became the punchline.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game began, and the stream window finally caught the client.

...More precisely, it only caught a portion of the game window. Realizing it a beat too late, Nangin Geomgaek scrambled to adjust the stream layout.

The enemy mid who had locked Yone was running a classic "barcode" username. Normally those names were used by famous players who didn't want to be recognized — but the mysterious Yone one-trick had become famous while using a barcode name, which was how the nickname "Barcode" stuck. Plenty of people tried to impersonate the mysterious Yone one-trick with barcode names of their own, of course. None of them could fake a record of fifty games, fifty wins, zero losses.

Once it was confirmed that the enemy Yone really was the mysterious Yone one-trick, chat boiled over. Nangin Geomgaek had never beaten that player — and still the viewers rooted for the man on stream.

But their hopes didn't matter. The mysterious Yone one-trick was simply too strong.

Yasuo's poke missed. Yone's poke landed. Tiny losses born from tiny differences rusted Nangin Geomgaek's blade a little more with every passing second. He farmed under tower. Yone's aggressive forward steps made him flinch at the thought of an unseen jungler. I won't fall for that twice, he told himself — and then the enemy Sejuani waiting in the raptor camp crashed in and took the kill anyway.

A complete loss in the mind game. And the cause was his own one-dimensional thinking. This wasn't just some Yone player. This was the mysterious Yone one-trick.

What should he have done in that spot? Nangin Geomgaek thought, and thought again. Discard one-track thinking. Stop assuming the opponent thinks the way you do. Even if you lose lane, there is always a way to win the game.

Every time he returned to lane and traded with the mysterious Yone one-trick, he understood a little more of that play — absorbed a little more of it.

...

That didn't mean some shonen-manga awakening where the hero suddenly turns the fight around. Manga and reality were different things. Reality was cruel, and merciless. Outwardly and inwardly, the gap between them was absolute.

Even the viewers who had only ever watched the Brothers' War from the outside could feel it now, secondhand — what it was like for Nangin Geomgaek to stand against the monster called the mysterious Yone one-trick. The moment they understood, even a little, that he had been walking that lonely road alone, they started trying to comfort him.

Same as the game before, Nangin Geomgaek's Yasuo fell to the mysterious Yone one-trick in a complete massacre. The only improvements were that it ended in a fifteen-minute surrender and that he died a little less.

The game had ended in a wreck — and still, he felt like he had grown, just a little. Like some missing piece inside him was finally being filled in. Wanting to hold onto that feeling a while longer, Nangin Geomgaek queued again without a second thought.

With nothing to do while the matchmaker spun, he started reading the chat that had piled up since the game began, line by line. Most of it was people who understood his situation, who were comforting him, who were cheering him on. Something in his chest tightened. He moved the hand that had been resting idle.

He had only gone live because of that person's demand in the first place. He had never planned to talk to anyone who showed up. But when people went out of their way to comfort him, the least he owed them was a word of thanks. So Nangin Geomgaek tapped at the keyboard and put his honest feelings into chat.

Reading the chat rolling in, Nangin Geomgaek let the corner of his mouth lift — just a fraction.

About five minutes later, another match locked. He accepted the queue and confirmed the mysterious Yone one-trick wasn't on his team. If they had been matched together, he would have dodged on the spot. A relief.

Pick-ban started again. This time the enemy first-picked Yone.

Yone's reappearance threw chat into chaos again — but Nangin Geomgaek paid it no mind and locked in Yasuo.

Faced with a chat full of worry for him, Nangin Geomgaek allowed himself a small smile. This many people watching. This many people cheering him on.

I can't just keep losing in a way that looks pathetic.

He knew it was greed. Even so — just once. Against the mysterious Yone one-trick, he wanted a win. No. He would take one. Even if it took a long, long time.

I won't give up.

He would never give up.

And so the game began.