Double Bed
You buy time with money.
Efficiency, to be exact. Even so, the first time I heard Yerin's plan, I could only sit there, struck dumb.
What am I even listening to right now?
"It's a five-day training camp. Everything you need is already here, so all you have to do is show up."
A place where five people could sleep and rest in comfort? Room and board for five, laundry, every last bit of upkeep? Computers and the rest of the gear so all five of us could practice together? When she first brought it up, I half-suspected she was joking. Only when that serious tone held all the way to the end did I realize she meant it—and even then, the best I could picture was some modest house where the five of us would grit our teeth and scrape by.
Reality was nothing like that.
Four bedrooms, a storage room, two dressing rooms, a living room, three bathrooms, a kitchen and a dining room set apart from each other, and a living room the size of a playing field.
"Ha... how big is this place, anyway? How many pyeong?"
"Ninety pyeong. About three thousand square feet. Let's get the bags unpacked first."
Eyes round as saucers, we turned into a class of baby chicks and trailed after Yerin, cheeping the whole way.
A whole new world. The kind of upper-class life I'd only ever seen in dramas.
"You can leave your things here. I cleared it out, so take a spot each."
We unpacked our bags in the dressing room and stepped out into the living room, where a gentle-looking older woman was waiting. I jumped, thinking she might be Yerin's mother, and hurried through a bow—only for her to smile softly and say she was there to help with the housework. She asked what everyone wanted to drink, then disappeared into the kitchen.
"Excuse me, but your—your parents? We ought to at least say hello..."
"Father left for the States on business two days ago, and Mother works in France, so she comes home once every two or three months? Something like that."
"O-oh... right."
It struck me all over again. We really did live in different worlds.
A little later, each of us with a drink from the housekeeper, we set about learning the layout of the place we would be living in for the next five days.
"I think the two of you can use this room. The bathroom attached right beside it is yours."
"Nice, nice. This bed is insane! I'm gonna sleep like a rock."
19Sonyeo and Dogu-neun-sirheoyo claimed the largest bedroom, and Mia was given the smallest. In exchange, she had it to herself.
That left two bedrooms. One of them, we were told, had been temporarily converted into our practice space.
Which meant... there was only one bedroom left?
"Mmm."
"...!"
Uneasy, I stole a glance at Yerin. She was all but smacking her lips.
No. No way.
"This is the practice room. I had to rush the setup, so the keyboards and mice are high-end, but if anyone has a brand that fits their hands better, just let me know."
"WHOOOA!"
"No way..."
Five desks stood in a neat row against the wall, a computer on each. The chairs looked expensive at a glance, and the keyboards, mice, and headsets were obviously brand new.
So much preparation. So much money. It sat a little heavy on me. Was it really right to take kindness like this as if it were nothing, no matter how desperate we were to win?
So I said it. I was truly grateful, but honestly, it was a burden. And even as the words left my mouth, there was the two-faced part of me that still wanted to accept that kindness if it meant we could win... Yerin laughed softly and held up one finger.
"Then I'll add one wish ticket."
"W-would that really cover it?"
"No, that's a bit..."
Burden or no burden, that one line snapped me wide awake.
Time... buying efficiency with money.
The plan had been vague when I first heard it, but once it was actually underway, the effect was tremendous. It didn't even compare to trading opinions over Discord from our own houses. We talked in real time, in the same conditions we'd have at the tournament, and chased sharper feedback face to face. On top of that, we could pour everything into practice alone.
Before, personal lives had eaten huge stretches of our practice time. A game would end and someone would announce they were off to eat; then someone had a salon appointment; then someone's parents had sent them on an errand... The delays piled up into something you couldn't ignore.
Here, none of that existed.
Practice, practice, practice!
We posted a notice asking the viewers to understand, and we even stopped streaming. Practice stacked on practice without a break. A day passed, then two, and I could feel the teamwork being honed bit by bit—swift timings on our collapses, clean shotcalls and the movement that answered them, even drills for every kind of position in a team fight.
But it still wasn't enough.
One moment of carelessness is one too many. Even a lion gives everything it has when it hunts a rabbit!
You have grown. An admirable frame of mind.
I asked Soldier for a favor: coach our team through the three days we had left.
He hesitated at first. Then—perhaps remembering the good that had come of his tie to me, realizing that he himself had changed, and recalling what he owed for it—he accepted.
From that moment, the team climbed another level.
Sharp feedback, seen through the eyes of a pro who had conquered the World Series. Every time a game ended, we were buried under a mountain of criticism and things to fix, and it was a pleasant kind of burial. It meant there was that much to correct, and that much room left to grow.
"At this level, you can win. Thank you for putting up with my nagging all this time."
"What! Sensei, how can you say that! You did all the hard work yourself, teaching your lacking students!"
"Soldier oppa is the best!"
In the name of fan service, I even dusted off an "oppa" I hadn't used in ages.
Five days of hell training, run at a dead sprint. We sat down together to the dinner the housekeeper laid out and steeled our resolve. Tomorrow was the semifinals. We would show them a version of ourselves turned a full one-eighty from before.
"But, unni... today's the last night, so tonight we absolutely have to—!"
"Oh, please!"
Yerin's terrifying plot to drag me into that double bed was not over yet.
19Sonyeo.
The dirty jokes that popped out now and then were a little embarrassing, but as the team's leader she pulled everyone along, kept the mood alive, and had the skill to match—a woman of all trades.
Dogu-neun-sirheoyo.
Iron tier. At first I had thought of her as nothing more than a stopgap, a body to fill a slot. Through five days of practice, though, she clung on with everything she had. Now I could honestly call her one of us.
Mia.
I still wasn't sure about her solo queue, but in team games she had clearly settled into mid, not support. I knew how hard a role change was, which only made her more impressive, and I applauded the fire in her that swore she would win, no matter what.
Yerin.
If we actually took the championship, she would be the team's greatest contributor. Skill for skill, she couldn't keep up with 19Sonyeo or me, but she had made us a team in the true sense of the word.
And on top of all that, special coaching from Soldier, a World Series champion!
With friends like these beside me, could some pack of no-name extras really dare stand in our way?
The first match of the semifinals began at three on Saturday afternoon.
Our team came back looking nothing like the one from before.
"No way! Hani's lost her mind! She pulls off a perfect counter-jungle and, together with Mia, demolishes the enemy mid!"
"Is this even the same Fighting Girls we saw last week? How did their teamwork get this good all of a sudden?"
We smashed mid, pinned top into a corner, and beat them senseless. Their jungler, already wrecked in the early game, lost their nerve and fled down toward the bottom side of the map. The game ran almost entirely one way. The other team tried to drag the clock out and steal a comeback in the late game, but our sharpened teamwork refused to allow it. United, we snowballed straight over them, and it was finished before the twenty-five-minute mark.
"You were incredible today! This sudden jump in your play... where do you think it comes from?"
"The jungle in particular completely broke open. Hani, could you answer for us?"
Post-game interview. The hosts, buzzing with excitement, swarmed our team. It wasn't only them—the viewers were locked on us too. We had, for all practical purposes, been picked as the first team to fall in the semis, and then we'd seized every eye in the room with a level of play that belonged to a different tier. The two teams scheduled after us were watching as well, faces full of curiosity over what on earth we were about to say.
Do I tell them we bought time, and the efficiency that comes with it, with money? Nothing felt like a proper answer. Then a single phrase flickered through my head.
"Oh! Have you thought of the secret?"
"What is the answer!? The secret behind this sudden surge in team strength!"
I leaned into the microphone the host thrust at me and gave up the secret.
"Huh?"
"What does that even..."
Everyone else cocked their heads. Only my teammates, the ones who knew the real story, let a small smile rest on their lips.