I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun - 146 chapter

KSM was a busy time for everyone.

Viewers were engrossed in the constant barrage of action, finding joy, excitement, and stress relief in the never-ending skirmishes. Meanwhile, the 100 professional gamers vying for a spot on the 20-person South Korean national team were tirelessly pushing themselves to their limits. But it wasn't just the players and viewers—engineers were on edge, constantly maintaining the servers to prevent crashes, while the PR teams were working frantically, reaching out and making contacts.

Ironically, even someone like Yu-jin, who had gained freedom a bit earlier than others, couldn’t escape the hustle and bustle.

And so, this brings us to what’s happening now.

"Hello! Congratulations on being pre-selected for the Korean national team! We’ve been following your gameplay in the Dark Zone with great interest, and we’re thrilled to have the chance to interview you."

"Thank you. It must have been a long trip for you all. I’ll do my best to answer whatever questions you have."

An interview.

Not just any interview, but one where the title “national representative” was now officially attached to her name. As mentioned before, the upcoming match would be the Asian qualifiers, and the players selected through KSM would represent Korea in battles against the national teams from other countries.

Normally, such interviews would only take place after KSM had concluded, with 20 first-team representatives and 20 reserve members officially listed. However, Yu-jin’s early selection had changed the narrative.

Moreover, she was the only player without any other scheduled events aside from the exhibition match, and with over an hour left until the second match, the timing was perfect for an interview.

"Let’s start with something light. First, you’ve been pre-selected for the national team after an undefeated run through KSM. How do you feel?"

"Personally, I feel like I can finally relax and focus on preparations. It’s been a grueling period, going through the tournament rankings, scrims, and qualifiers. I think I’ll be able to approach the Asian qualifiers more calmly than before."

"Haha, assuming you’ll continue with your intense training regimen, right?"

"Of course. But it won’t be too boring, since there are a few others now."

As she said that, the faces of a few individuals flashed through her mind.

There was Dice, who had been tearing through matches in the last few hours; Harmony, who had evolved beyond the limits of a typical user; and Blooming, a professional player from SSM who had suddenly climbed into KSM, seemingly out of nowhere. It was as if anyone who crossed paths with her had been injected with some sort of stimulant, showing remarkable growth in their combat prowess.

The hosts, wearing somewhat awkward smiles, moved on to the next question.

"For our second question: This was your first time participating in KSM. How was the overall environment? Did you experience any lag or server issues, and how were the player rest areas?"

"There weren’t any major issues overall. Even if there were, unless it was something extremely serious, I think players just need to anticipate and adapt, so it’s not something I’d worry too much about."

"Wow, that’s impressive. You think that way? We expected a similar response, especially since even minor differences can determine victory or defeat in these matches."

"Well, in reality, things rarely go exactly the way you want. Personally, I believe you should always be prepared for the possibility that things won’t go as planned."

Is that something most people can do?

Of course, they didn’t voice this thought aloud.

As the questions continued, the hosts were getting to know more about Yu-jin. There was something oddly warm about her personality. It wasn’t just about her professional demeanor; when asked more personal questions, there was a sense of depth. She was someone who kept her personal and professional lives distinctly separate.

Or perhaps it was because Yu-jin’s knowledge of modern combat—especially in the Dark Zone—was so vast and specialized that whenever asked about it, her answers were astoundingly professional.

"Let’s move on to the next question. Many people are excited about your meteoric rise in the scene, but do you plan to continue competing not only this year but also next year and beyond?"

"I think I will."

"Oh, you’re not entirely sure?"

After a brief pause, Yu-jin added:

"I believe I’ll continue to keep an eye on the overall flow of what’s referred to as the combat meta. Whether I’ll go all the way and compete for the championship, I’m not sure."

"I see. That’s a bold answer. Do you plan to keep showing off this level of physical performance?"

"That’s the plan."

Nodding, the hosts moved on to the next question.

There was nothing about her personal life, but the questions they needed to ask still piled up.

"How much do you typically train each day?"

"If I’m shooting a gun, that’s practice. Whether I’m working on the main mission, visiting the shooting range, or playing AP, it’s all practice."

But that wasn’t the answer people wanted to hear, and Yu-jin seemed aware of that.

"But when it comes to honing skills, the amount of practice isn’t what’s important. What matters is how you practice and what you focus on. Skills improve when you break through limits, and that only happens when you achieve goals that are nearly impossible."

"That’s incredible. Considering not only Dice but others trained by you are performing phenomenally, the weight of your words feels even greater. What kind of goals do you mean when you say ‘nearly impossible’?"

"100% accuracy while moving or hitting moving targets with 100% precision, for example."

"Is that…even possible?"

"You keep working at it until it is."

Ah.

She really was pure Sparta incarnate.

One sheet of questions disappeared, and the format of the interview changed slightly. Now, the questions appeared in midair, and Yu-jin answered them directly. The hosts would occasionally jump in with follow-up questions when more clarification was needed.

Q: Have you ever gotten angry during a match, or do you have any tips for managing your mental state?

"It might sound harsh, but I believe a true professional shouldn’t let their emotions influence their actions during combat. Even in the most critical situations, you must control yourself to achieve the results you want."

There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in her answer.

It flowed out smoothly, as if it were something rehearsed, though the nuance was neither arrogant nor condescending. Rather, it was simply a statement of fact. Yu-jin’s conviction was clear—if you didn’t do this, you couldn’t win. Her words carried the precision of mathematics, not just confidence.

Q: There’s a joke going around calling this year’s Korean national team “Yu-jin’s Fleet.” What do you think about that?

"‘Yu-jin’s Fleet’? Haa…."

The bizarre, ever-growing list of nicknames never seemed to end.

As a deeply human sigh escaped her lips, the hosts tried to stifle their laughter. Of course, it was because of all the quirky nicknames Yu-jin had earned over time.

There were already more than a dozen of them, each one as embarrassing to say out loud as the next.

With a face that looked like she’d just bitten into a lemon, Yu-jin forced a smile and added:

"…Anyway, each team has its own coach, so that’s not really something I can control. But if anyone’s interested, I could create a curriculum for them."

"Haha, that’s understandable, given your track record."

The host checked the remaining list of questions and laughed.

"It looks like we’re about ready to wrap up. We’ll ask a few more questions, then let you take a break. Is that okay with you?"

"That’s fine."