Chapter 17: Don’t Be Cocky. Always Stay Humble (1)

“F*cking hell…“

Park Taeyoung roughly yanked at his hair.

It had been a week since he joined the professional team Glitch Core for Raid & Master.

Gone was the confident figure who had proudly stepped into the pro league.

“How can I not win a single f*cking match, you dumb*ss…”

“Taeyoung. Cool your head for a bit.”

Choi Younghoon, the head coach of Glitch Core, approached the visibly agitated Taeyoung.

He handed him a can of cola. Still dewy with condensation, it had clearly just come from the fridge.

“You can’t fall apart just because you lost a few scrims. You’re doing fine, so don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“But still…”

Despite the comforting words, Taeyoung only fiddled with the can.

He looked completely deflated.

Coach Choi understood why.

Anyone would feel like sh*t after five consecutive losses.

Especially in a one-on-one.

If it had been a team match, at least he could blame someone else.

But getting utterly destroyed in a one-on-one duel?

“Arin’s in crazy good form these days. And one-on-ones are her specialty—you could lose, it’s fine.”

To Coach Choi, Park Taeyoung was still a solid trainee.

The problem was just the opponent.

“Even in a team match, I don’t think the result would change much.”

A voice interrupted from the side.

Both Choi and Taeyoung turned their heads.

A girl in a school uniform stood there with a confident smirk.

Kang Arin, aka Chloe.

The newest addition to Glitch Core’s trainee roster.

And the one who had just handed Park Taeyoung his fifth straight loss.

“You’re already behind in lane phase. What could you possibly do in a team fight? You should at least be able to beat a support.”

Hearing that, Taeyoung clenched his fists.

Their one-on-one duel from earlier.

Out of five matches, Arin had completely crushed him in four.

For the final match, desperate to claim even one win, Taeyoung picked an assassin—his best bet in a one-on-one.

Arin, on the other hand, chose a support—specifically, a mage-type champion.

In solo matches, support champs were widely considered the weakest picks.

While Arin’s choice wasn’t purely a support, the matchup heavily favored Taeyoung.

It was a blatant taunt, nothing short of mockery.

‘What the hell is she trying to pull?’

His blood boiled the moment he saw her pick.

But he believed—no, knew—he could win.

Instead, he got schooled.

With perfect spacing, her spells chipped away at his health little by little.

When he finally engaged with his ultimate and barely whittled her down to a sliver of HP, he thought he had her.

But it turned out she had calculated everything.

She let him land some hits but dodged all the fatal ones.

He was sure it was a kill window.

But Arin survived, almost mockingly.

With all his skills on cooldown, Taeyoung got snared and then instantly blown up by her ultimate.

Five straight losses.

And the last one? He picked an assassin and still lost to a support.

Getting wrecked was one thing.

But having his pride completely shattered? That stung the most.

“You rushed in just ’cause I showed a small opening. And then you ate every obvious spell I threw. Pfft, I don’t think you’re cut out for a pro debut.”

“Hey. Arin.”

Unable to stand it anymore, Coach Choi raised his voice on Taeyoung’s behalf.

“I told you not to talk like that.”

Skill was everything in pro gaming.

But it wasn’t the only thing.

Personality mattered too.

You didn’t need to be a saint.

But you at least needed enough decency to function in a team.

Arin’s problem was exactly that—her attitude.

‘Still… the team has high hopes for her.’

Coach Choi couldn’t bring himself to scold her more harshly.

Glitch Core was currently mid-to-lower tier.

Not in relegation danger, but also unable to break into the top.

The players weren’t terrible.

But their colorless, bland playstyle only worked against weaker teams.

Enter Kang Arin.

Her strength? Mechanics.

They expected her to be the “crack” that broke the mold of their bland team.

She also had a striking appearance.

Young, no aging curve to worry about.

Compared to invisible skills like game sense, her explosive playstyle was naturally attention-grabbing.

A born superstar.

From the team’s perspective, she was a godsend.

But having been praised from all sides at such a young age, she turned out a bit bratty.

“I told you—respect your teammates if you’re serious about going pro. Do you really need to drag others down like that?”

Coach Choi gave a textbook scolding.

Arin frowned slightly.

Even with all the favoritism she received, she was still too young to directly argue with Coach Choi.

But that didn’t mean she obediently took the advice either.

“I’m going.”

She hesitated like she had more to say, but just turned and walked away.

“Don’t let it get to you. She’s still a kid.”

Arin was just a second-year middle schooler.

The perfect age for an identity crisis.

‘Sometimes, losing is exactly what a person needs.’

In most cases, losing sucks.

Especially in esports, where confidence is king.

But losses can teach humility—something wins never offer.

‘The real problem is, she’s just too talented.’

She couldn’t taste defeat because her talent was overwhelming.

Even in solo queue, she outperformed her tier, no matter how high.

Her oppressive laning phase, driven by raw mechanics, was unmatched.

Even when her team lost, she could string together montage-worthy highlights.

With such flashy plays, she was rarely blamed for the team’s failure.

Even one-on-ones weren’t safe.

Not just among trainees—even pros had trouble beating her.

Some were even thrashed by her.

Naturally, her ego inflated.

And managing that ego? That was Coach Choi’s job.

‘I really hope she doesn’t go do something crazy again just ‘cause she got scolded.’

Watching the gloomy Taeyoung, Coach Choi let out a sigh.

The cigarettes he’d quit were suddenly calling his name.

---

“Tada~”

Humming a tune, I sliced open the package with a box cutter.

A VR machine gifted by Raidel.

Once I cleared away the bubble wrap, the contents were revealed.

‘Looks like some kind of headgear.’

There was the head-mounted VR gear and other peripherals.

It was a lightweight model, standard edition.

High-end VR setups were capsule-style and could fit your whole body lying down.

But those cost a fortune.

‘Honestly, this one’s better.’

It wasn’t just about money.

There wasn’t even room in this tiny studio apartment to store something that massive.

A giant capsule would take up the whole room—totally impractical.

“It’s brand new. Looks untouched.”

The machine had been so well maintained, it didn’t even feel second-hand.

“So I just do this…?”

I expected the interface to be complicated, but it turned out to be super simple.

Plug into the PC, start the game.

Put the headset on. Done.

Not much different from connecting a regular monitor.

I hooked up the cables and sat in front of the PC.

Raid & Master download.

It’s an AOS game, arguably the most popular genre right now.

(TL note: AOS games are a blend of fantasy, strategy, and miniature combat, making it a popular choice for players who enjoy both the tactical depth of wargames and the immersive world of Warhammer)

A mega-hit, essential for any aspiring game streamer.

‘I’m curious as to what kind of game it is.’

Before streaming, this would be my first VR experience.

I was excited to see what VR gaming felt like.

‘I wonder if Raidel is streaming right now.’

While waiting for the game to download, I opened the Soopjijik streaming site.

(TL note: Again soopjijik is the fictional streaming platform equivalent to twitch in the real world)

[Master-tier Raidel’s Coaching Stream (ft. Silver-Haired Senpai)]

Raidel’s stream was the first thing that popped up.

Thanks to the surge in viewers, it was easy to find.

5,000 viewers.

Considering the stream had just started, that was huge.

She used to average around 2,000—an extra 3,000 was no joke.

‘Well, that’s good for her.’

Since I was new to the game, I figured it might be good to learn from someone experienced.

I messaged Raidel through chat.

– What about doing a coaching stream? Like a collab.

I didn’t expect a quick reply, but—

– Oh wow~ Of course! Are you gonna stream too?

– Uh, not yet. I’m not ready mentally…

– Ah, then we’ll just use mine… I’ll make sure to split the profits!

– Eh? I’m fine without it.

– What do you mean! I’ll share the donations we get 50:50. If you want, we can even go 60:40 in your favor~

Less than a minute later, Raidel was all in.

“Remember that legendary stream from Chain Roller with Silver-Haired Senpai? Today, she’s making her VR game debut!”

Raidel’s voice bubbled with excitement.

“Since it’s her first time playing Raid & Master, I’ll be guiding her personally.”

“Raidel… doing a lecture…?”

“Isn’t that a scam class?”

“I don’t think she’s good enough to teach lol.”

“Excuse me, can I get a refund on this coaching session?”

“Hey, I was a master-tier player, okay! I’ve even matched with pros before! Everyone who knows, knows! Stop being unfair, nyun!”

Raidel looked visibly flustered.

I had looked her up too, and she wasn’t a bad player.

She’d consistently ranked in master tier for a good while.

But recently, she’d dropped down to diamond for several months.

She’d tried climbing back multiple times but kept failing promotion matches by a hair.

Still stuck in diamond.

‘That’s still impressive, though.’

Even diamond tier was enough to earn respect, even among streamers.

Raidel was actually in the upper bracket of diamond—Diamond 1.

And though viewers teased her, no one genuinely thought she sucked.

“You know the saying, seeing is believing? Once Silver-Haired Senpai joins…”

“Seeing is believing my a** lmao.”

“That was embarrassing, Delbung…”

“Did your tongue slip? Just pretend it was a joke, please.”

What I thought was a joke turned out to be real.

Raidel’s face flushed bright red.

“Ahem! Anyway! You’ll see for yourself. Once Senpai logs in, we’re doing a one-on-one demonstration!”