As the UCK finals crept closer, fans could barely sit still. Their hearts were beating like crazy.
“My money’s on SHI. Carrier’s on fire right now.”
“Are you kidding? He’s washed. OGH’s winning for sure.”
“Washed? No way. Did you even watch the semis? He carried so hard.”
Most of the game’s audience, who were in their teens and twenty-somethings, engaged in discussion with friends as they replayed the highlights. Nobody could stop talking about the finals.
A normal tournament wouldn’t have been this hyped, but this one had something extra.
“Dude, why is Yoon-jung Hwang so freaking cute? I’d die to see her in person. They say she looks even better in person than on stream, and I literally can’t imagine that.”
The hype wasn’t just about the championship. It was about Yoon-jung performing with pro gamer Kojun. Some tuned in for him, some for her, and the rest just because it was the hottest thing anyone was talking about. Yoon-jung’s streams turned into countdown parties for the big day.
She was juggling lessons with Sung-ah and rehearsals, busier than she’d ever been. The busier she got, the more her viewer count spiked.
Sure, most of that surge would fade once the finals ended, but some fans always stuck around like silt at the bottom of a river. For her, that kind of attention was gold. Her name value was climbing fast.
Just like that, the days blurred by.
***
Finally, the big day. The arena buzzed as the casters shouted over the noise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The UCK finals!”
“Everyone’s been counting down to this. SHI or OGH. Honestly, either team could take the crown. They’re both monsters.”
They started with game talk, but it didn’t take long before the chat hijacked the show. One caster cracked up when they saw the chat.
“Look at this chat. They’re begging us to shut up so the performance can start. Haha! Honestly, I can’t wait either. I want to see that performance!”
“Hahaha. The queen of streaming storms her way into esports. There are probably people watching who probably don’t even know this game!”
“Right? Every ‘Ultimate Hero’ fan knows Yoon-jung, but plenty of her fans don’t know the game. In a way, it’s the perfect chance to get them hooked and.. Oh wait, chat’s telling me to stop talking again? Hahahaha!”
***
At the same time.
Backstage, Yoon-jung waited in full costume while Kojun stood stiff in his team uniform.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous. You didn’t even twitch during the world championship finals.”
“…But I wasn’t standing on a stage like this.” Kojun scratched at his neck, clearly uneasy.
Yoon-jung giggled at the reason, but there was one more reason why he was flustered.
‘How is she pretty…’
On stream, she usually wore little to no makeup and casual clothes. Even when they’d met recently, she had kept it simple.
Now, though, she was dressed up for the stage. It was a place she couldn’t show off her usual style.
It wasn’t cosplay, but it was close. She looked like a game character come to life. Her hair was styled and the makeup made her already gorgeous face almost unreal.
It froze Kojun like ice.
‘That’s a lethal level of pretty.’
***
– Can you guys quiet down for bit. We wanna see Yoon-jung!
– You villains. Give us back our girl 🙁
– Other streamers are farming her viewers while she’s offstage lol
– LMAO is this Gayo Daejeon? Nobody’s even talking about the game
(T/N: Gayo Daejeon is an annual music festival in South Korean that features major artists in the music industry.)
Seeing the flood of comments made me laugh.
‘That practice clip really blew up.’
She was everywhere in the game community. She had pulled off in-game skill motions so perfectly it felt like a character had stepped out of the screen.
‘No one else could’ve done it.’
It wasn’t just her performance skills, but also her gamer’s instincts. She could read what fans wanted, and her current standing in the streaming world made her more perfect than any superstar.
I walked up to Kojun as he was prepping to go on.
“Thank you for helping out, Kojun. The crowd’s loving it already.”
“Not at all. Honestly, this helps me too. I bombed in the semis, so this keeps me relevant. In esports, skill matters, but so does star power.”
Yoon-jung laughed softly next to Kojun.
“If we cared that much about star power, maybe we should’ve given you more to do on stage.”
Thinking it was a joke, Kojun chuckled back.
“Well, if it’s to help you… what if we tried this?” Yoon-jung said.
“…Huh?”
“So like, picture this-”
Her eyes lit up as she pitched an idea, gesturing wildly. Kojun grew paler by the second. When she asked brightly, “What do you think?”, there was no way he could say no.
Was this what they called a honey trap? Only Yoon-jung herself didn’t realize that was why he was nodding. I had to stifle a laugh. Truthfully, her idea sounded fun so I let it slide.
They couldn’t add anything too complex this late, but a few simple moves was doable.
‘Even if Kojun flubbed it, no harm done.’
He was a pro in this industry. People would just laugh it off.
“Alright, time to head up… ah, yes! Mr. Kojun, Ms. Yoon-jung Hwang, please step onstage.”
I gave them a quick cheer as they went to the stage. Kojun trudged like a soldier being dragged to battle while Yoon-jung strode out like a hero.
***
Meanwhile, the most miserable guy in the arena was none other than Carrier.
“Just a little. Just let me watch for a little bit.”
The whole performance had started with him. He was the one who had mentioned Yoon-jung in his semifinal interview, yet here was Kojun reaping the benefits while Carrier wasn’t even allowed to watch.
They said it would break his focus. Honestly, though, not watching would probably make it worse.
“Ha… I wouldn’t recommend it…”
“Please, Coach. If I see it, I feel like I’ll play even better.”
The coach hesitated. Watching the performance wouldn’t actually improve his gameplay, but with a face that pitiful, it felt cruel to refuse.
“…Fine. But don’t lose your head. Stay sharp in the game.”
Carrier nearly cheered out loud, but clamped it down with pro-level reflexes. He had to show he could keep his cool.
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright… go ahead.”
He wanted to sprint, but forced himself to walk. Just in time, he saw Yoon-jung and Kojun step onto the stage. The crowd roared.
“That should’ve been me.”
The camera zoomed in on Kojun’s awkward smile, and the arena burst out laughing.
Top-tier players rarely did fan service like this, and the novelty had everyone cackling. Carrier clenched his fists and sighed.
Then, the screen filled with Yoon-jung’s face and the laughter stopped. Gasps and whispers swept the stadium.
“…!”
Carrier froze too. If he had missed this moment, he would have regretted it for life.
“Wooooah!”
“Yoon-jung! Kojun!”
The lights shifted. Music thundered. It was ‘Legends Never Die,’ the world championship anthem from a few years back.
The devs had experimented with all kinds of fan content, but their music collabs had hit hardest. They even released an animated MV with characters modeled after real players, which fans adored. That was this song.
This wasn’t the only one they made in order to satisfy fans. Later, they even pushed out full-on K-pop style music videos with game characters.
“I wish they’d make one with Yoon-jung….” Carrier thought sincerely.
‘This isn’t the time for that.’
He shook away the thought and fixed his eyes on the stage.
***
The heavy intro pounded as Yoon-jung moved slow, as if she was unwinding her body. When she first announced this song, skeptics doubted she could pull it off.
Her fans, however, weren’t worried one bit. After all, she had already killed the choreography for Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love.’ Compared to that, this was nothing.
“Wow, haha! That’s amazing!”
“OMG she’s so cute!”
The audience had been dead silent until the moment she started mimicking in-game skills.
“Pfft!”
Carrier cracked up too. Yoon-jung bounced around like a cheeky game character, pretending to spit poison darts.
“Ugh!” Kojun staggered back with his eyes shut and arms flailing.
“Hehehe.”
The song built toward a heroic climax, but their smiles never faded. Kojun, who was stiff at first, loosened up and hammed it for the crowd.
“Hahaha! Isn’t this that skill?”
“LMAO, that’s hilarious!”
Amazingly, Yoon-jung’s movements flowed seamlessly as she danced through it all. Every now and then, she spun with a sword and rolled forward even as she was imitating character skills.
‘She’s unbelievable!’
Carrier’s jaw dropped with goofy grin plastered on his face. He didn’t realize it, but the camera had just caught him looking utterly smitten.
‘I’m so jealous. So, so jealous.’
He loved seeing the performance, but he was also jealous. So jealous. He felt it even stronger as he watched the final sequence.
Yoon-jung and Kojun exchanged a glance, then struck poses. Kojun tossed invisible shurikens as Yoon-jung rolled an imaginary beer barrel like a drunken brawler.
The music crashed to an end. Yoon-jung dropped to the floor. A close-up of her face on the big screen showed her laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
“…So unfair.” The huge, satisfied smile on his face didn’t match his words.
***
The finals kicked off right after that unforgettable stage. Carrier tore through the map like a man possessed. Play after play lit up the highlight reel, and SHI steamrolled OGH to claim the championship.
“SHI takes the UCK championship!”
“Carrier’s insane! That’s basically cheating. He got a buff right before the match. Balance is broken!”
The casters cracked jokes, and the audience laughed along.
– the Yoon-jung Hwang effect was real.
– LOL Carrier’s face looked like he was under a spell
– Balance patch mid-game, that’s cheating
– Bro, how many highlights can one guy rack up?
The camera cut to Yoon-jung in the stands, arms raised, jumping like crazy.
“This game was actually 6v5. No way SHI could lose with that kind of support.”
“Right? She’s basically a cheat code. Buffed them before the match and kept cheering the whole time. They couldn’t lose if they tried.”
Meanwhile, over in the U.S., company executives immediately scheduled a meeting. The agenda, of course, was about making more music content to keep fans hooked.
—