Chapter 6: Do you have time?

“Hearing something a hundred times isn’t better than seeing it once, and seeing something a hundred times isn’t better than doing it once.”

Doing something firsthand is more valuable than just hearing or seeing it — this was a saying that generally held true based on my past experiences.

Whatever it may be, the value of direct experience should never be underestimated.

“Nope. Come with me, unnie. I don’t think you really get it because you haven’t actually played Battle of Legend.”

That’s how I ended up at a VR room near the officetel with Seoyeon.

I had analyzed Seoyeon’s Battle of Legend gameplay videos, sure — but I had never actually played the game myself.

The level of immersion in Battle of Legend… I figured maybe I’d underestimated the reason why Seoyeon had been emotionally drained after playing it.

But then…

[Victory!]

…Yeah, I still didn’t get it.

Even after experiencing it myself, I didn’t feel like emotional exhaustion was an unavoidable part of it.

One thing that did surprise me, though, was the realism.

The realism of Battle of Legend exceeded my expectations.

It really felt like I was fighting enemies in real life, just as the term “virtual reality” implies.

My character responded exactly how I imagined, so I didn’t struggle much, even for a first-timer.

‘Is this how people train nowadays?’

It’s a bit of a shame this kind of VR tech didn’t exist back when I was Lee Sun instead of Yoo Seoa.

If it had, training would’ve been far more realistic.

That was about the extent of my impression from playing Battle of Legend.

I didn’t find any inherent reason why players would get so emotionally invested to the point of burnout.

So I began taking off my VR gear.

I was about to suggest to Seoyeon — who was right next to me on another VR treadmill — that we rethink doing the Battle of Legend stream.

I was going to say that maybe the emotional intensity was more her issue.

“Unnie, just one more round. Just one more.”

Seoyeon grabbed my hand just as I was about to remove my headset.

She looked like she felt something was unfair.

Did I miss something?

“You just made your account today. Your MMR is literally at beginner level. That means your opponents were all newbies too.”

“And?”

“I don’t rage when I play against people like that either. I only get emotional and blow up when I’m up against stronger players.”

What could I say?

For Seoyeon, she seemed… unusually desperate.

…Does she really want this Battle of Legend stream that badly?

Still, she wasn’t completely wrong.

I knew from experience that the emotional toll varies depending on the skill level of your opponent.

“Even David didn’t get nervous fighting ants. He trembled when he was up against a Goliath. So just one more game. This time, one-on-one with me.”

That was probably the kind of point she was trying to make.

The enemies in her YouTube videos didn’t seem all that formidable, but still — it wasn’t a totally off-base argument.

And honestly, this could be a good chance to better gauge Seoyeon’s skill.

“Alright.”

“Y-you said alright? No take-backs, okay?”

“How am I supposed to take it back? There’s no ‘backspace’ here.”

“…Wow….”

Seoyeon’s expression twisted in disbelief, but she silently began equipping her VR gear again.

Her hands moved quickly and efficiently through the setup, showing her experience.

Her face was serious, and I could see a bit of stubborn resolve in her eyes.

…Does she really want to beat me that badly?

Even if I’m a total noob at Battle of Legend?

“Unnie, you need to understand how I feel too. Get ready to be crushed.”

“You’re saying you’re gonna turn me into a tiger?”

…Your jokes are terrible.

Just stop.

“Okay…”

And so, Seoyeon and I entered a private room in Battle of Legend — a mode apparently designed for 1v1 matches.

Then came Seoyeon’s request: to pick the character I was most confident with.

“People only really get mad when they lose with a character they’re good at.”

“…Do you really want to see me that mad?”

“It’s just a saying, come on.”

Seoyeon picked a warrior-type.

It was the same bulky, tough-looking character I’d seen often on her YouTube channel.

She seemed to be tapping into some kind of specialized build, but I wasn’t familiar enough to say — so I just called it a warrior.

“Unnie, are you going with an archer again?”

“No, rogue.”

“Why?”

“You said to pick what I’m good at.”

“For beginners, knight would be better… but okay. Go ahead.”

I chose a rogue — a class known for wielding dual daggers.

Fighting my sister with knives felt a bit weird, but… well, she did say to pick something I was confident in.

And when it comes to martial arts, there’s nothing I’m more confident in than dagger techniques.

“……Beginner’s luck. That’s all it was.”

As the map began loading, Seoyeon kept glancing toward my side of the VR treadmill.

She was remembering Yoo Seoa’s first Battle of Legend gameplay.

A flashy play style that was hard to believe came from a first-timer — but Yoo Seoa had brushed it off as beginner’s luck.

Out of curiosity, Seoyeon had looked up the usernames from Yoo Seoa’s opposing team.

Their average rank was bronze.

Compared to Seoyeon’s platinum, their skill and movement were far inferior.

‘Yeah, if you’re playing against bronzes, how hard could it have been? Must’ve been smooth sailing.’

Facing near-beginners, it was no surprise she ended with a KDA of 17/0/4 in her first match.

Her calm expression made sense.

It wasn’t even a ranked match, just a normal one — that must’ve contributed, too.

Seoyeon never considered the possibility that Yoo Seoa might be a genuine newbie.

She just wanted to believe the opponents were that bad.

Classic Seoyeon and her confirmation bias.

—Thud—

With a heavy footstep, Seoyeon’s character raised a massive greatsword.

Her chosen class: berserker — a build specializing in relentless close-range pressure.

Once she managed to land a hit, she could slaughter her opponent in an instant.

Yoo Seoyeon took a deep breath and turned her head toward where her opponent would be.

“A rogue…”

A black mask and twin daggers hanging from the waist.

Even from a distance, it was clear this character was built for speed and agility.

Looking at the traits… yep, the default ones.

In this game, rogues boasted high mobility and strong attack power, but in exchange, had low max HP and defense.

The default traits of a rogue emphasized these pros and cons to the extreme.

Of course, most veteran Baore players didn’t stick with default traits.

They used ones optimized for their own playstyles.

But Yoo Seoa, being a newbie, wouldn’t know that.

“If you don’t know, you’ll just have to get hit.”

Convinced herself with that thought, and Seoyeon charged straight into the heart of the battlefield.

Seoa’s rogue also walked slowly toward the center of the field.

The distance between the two characters shrank by the second.

The silver bob of the rogue, glinting in the sunlight, grew closer.

The fact that she wasn’t making any move to counter the warrior’s approach—it had to be proof that Seoa was a beginner.

The opening move: a strong attack.

The massive greatsword tore through the air in a heavy arc.

A straight-line swing that could split not just the rogue’s body, but even the stone ground below.

Yet, despite the sweat glistening on her thick arm muscles—there was no impact.

The greatsword that should’ve cleaved the rogue’s head in two only sliced through empty air.

With just a slight tilt of her head, the silver-haired rogue effortlessly dodged the blow and let out a short breath.

Then, she touched her twin daggers.

Still, she didn’t attack, and a question mark appeared in Seoyeon’s mind.

‘What…?’

A strange sense of unease.

It didn’t feel like she simply missed the timing to counterattack.

It was like… she was deliberately doing nothing.

But Seoyeon had to beat her no matter what, to get Seoa to understand how immersive Baore could be.

Raising her greatsword again, this time she slashed diagonally downward from the upper right, filled with killing intent.

There should have been a hit.

She clearly saw the greatsword touch the rogue’s shoulder.

It should’ve torn through the flesh and crushed the bone underneath.

But instead—from the side, not in front—

And not from the rogue, but the warrior’s own blood sprayed out.

For a moment, Seoyeon’s screen turned crimson.

“?!”

The HP bar on the left had shrunk—Seoyeon’s warrior had been hit.

But when?

The rogue wasn’t even in range to attack…

‘Huh?’

She finally noticed the odd number of daggers in the rogue’s hands.

Turning her eyes to her right shoulder in disbelief—there it was, a dagger lodged deep in her flesh.

‘No way… during that moment when the greatsword blocked my vision?’

The growing questions made Seoyeon replay the scene in her head.

The massive greatsword slashing diagonally down from her upper right.

The rogue’s body perfectly lined up with the sword in that brief instant—creating a blind spot.

Did she aim for that tiny gap, hurling a dagger from the blind spot in that sliver of time?

But why?

There was no need to throw a dagger…

“If I win, you’re doing the dishes tonight.”

Before Seoyeon could finish her thoughts, a calm voice reached her.

Snapping out of it, she made her warrior raise the greatsword with a roar.

Thud.

Another heavy step forward.

This time, a sweeping pattern to cover both sides.

But it missed—again.

The silver-haired rogue was already sliding along the side of the greatsword.

“Wait, what the he—”

Squelch!

The sound of flesh tearing cut off her words.

She tried to counter immediately, but her sister’s rogue had already moved to a different angle.

Once again, her greatsword sliced through air.

“You’re not supposed to scrub frying pans with steel wool.”

With that soft voice, a crescent-shaped dagger pierced right through the seam of the warrior’s armor.

Staggered by the surprise attack, the warrior groaned and tried to swing again—but the rogue had already slipped behind him.

Squelch.

She moved like she was walking on water.

A horizontal swing aimed at those nimble legs—

But the rogue, as if she had read it in advance, gracefully stepped back.

Crunch!

Without a sound, she slipped behind him and struck the fatal point.

The warrior hurriedly turned and swung, but she ducked under it and rolled to the other side.

Her movements… were always a beat ahead.

A relentless combo.

She couldn’t even track it with her eyes.

As much as she hated to admit it—she couldn’t even sense her presence properly.

…That chilling sensation of a blade pressed deep in her chest returned.

‘What the hell just happened…’

All she could remember was the clash of rough steel and the sharp winds slicing around her.

Everything else was lost in a blur of slashes and cuts.

By the time she came to—

[TrialAccount01(Rogue) defeats Maruru(Warrior)]

The warrior’s greatsword hit the ground.

The warrior’s body swayed, and with a gentle push from the rogue’s slim finger, he collapsed.

Thud.

His massive form crumpled to the ground.

The fight was over.

“Soak the pots in hot water first.”

And just like that, Seoyeon was declared the dishwashing duty for the day.

She was so stunned, she couldn’t even argue.

“Uh… but you had fun too, right? Your heart was pounding and all! That’s why people love Baore, you know?”

“I’ll find some less intense games too. There’s probably a demand for chill, healing games…”

“Pleaaase, unni… if I don’t play Baore, I’m doomed… I’ll build up my mental game, I promise! Just Baore, at least…”

…Maybe I should’ve just let her win.

Such a dramatic tantrum—hard to believe she’s a high school girl.

“I get it. It’s a well-made game.”

“R-Really?!”

“But… I’m still not sure. The sample size is too small.”

Either way, it’s only been two games.

It’s far too few to fully grasp a game like Battle of Legends.

The fact that the only opinion I’ve heard so far is Seoyeon’s is also a problem.

I need to gather more diverse opinions about Battle of Legends before making a judgment.

Who around me knows a lot about Battle of Legends…?

“Assistant Manager Kim.”

“Yes?”

“That game, Battle of Legends — is it really that popular? I don’t know much about games.”

“Ah… yes, it’s super popular. Tons of streamers, tons of viewers… it’s basically a religion.”

“…Is that so.”

During lunch break at Yeryeo Hotel,

Yuseo-ah paused for a moment, thoughtful, at the colleague’s positive description of Battle of Legends.

“Do you play Battle of Legends too, Assistant Manager Kim?”

“Ah, yeah. I play it occasionally, as a hobby.”

“Then… do you, by any chance, have a rank or something like that?”

“Uh… yeah, um… I’m Diamond.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes momentarily widened in surprise at the unexpectedly high rank.

Diamond.

Top 4.2% of Battle of Legends players.

A perfect reference point for Yuseo-ah.

Someone of Diamond rank should know how to play the game without being swayed by emotions.

“Would you happen to be free after work? I was hoping you could come with me to a VR room.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s something personal — I just need someone who’s good at the game. Right now, you’re the only one I can think of.”

A brief silence.

Trying to figure out Yuseo-ah’s true intentions, the gears in Assistant Manager Kim’s head began to turn.

But as the silence dragged on in front of Yuseo-ah,

She tilted her head slightly and calmly gazed at his face.

Her looks were a bit too overwhelming to keep eye contact for long.

He reminded himself not to get the wrong idea, but his heart was already swelling with a faint sense of anticipation.

“If you already have plans, please don’t hesitate to say—”

“Ah, no. I don’t. No plans.”

“Then?”

“Le…t’s go. To the VR room.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Even the soft smile she gave in thanks felt intense.

For someone like Assistant Manager Kim, who was more used to messaging than face-to-face interactions, she was a difficult person to handle.