“Yujin, there are countless words to describe you. If you had to pick one that you liked the most, which would it be?”

“To be honest, I’d prefer to throw them all away.”

Pfft!

The sound of suppressed laughter and outright guffaws erupted all around. Some couldn’t hold back and ended up sputtering air mixed with the amylase in their mouths. Dice, however, was wide-eyed with shock, her face twisted halfway between disbelief and exasperation. Her expression seemed to say, “What on earth is this woman saying in front of the cameras?”

After telling Yujin not to say anything strange, well… there it was.

Truly, the queen of doing things her own way was at it again.

But after taking a moment to calm down, Dice had to admit that, beyond Yujin’s tone, she wasn’t entirely wrong. After all, teasing Yujin, who never seemed to get flustered no matter what, had become a bit of a sport. Many had given her absurd nicknames over time. For instance, “Big Sister,” coined during a special broadcast, was one of the more decent ones. Others, like “The Executioner,” “The Sexiest Woman to Hit People,” “Human Tank,” “Walking Tonkatsu Mallet,” and “Axe Goddess,” were much more outlandish. The latter had been given to her by Corvus during KSM, who quickly regretted it when she paid him back in full for it.

With all that in mind, her reaction made perfect sense.

The announcer, having barely recovered from Yujin’s verbal jab, nervously continued.

“Well, that was quite the unexpected answer. Could you explain why you feel that way?”

“If the nicknames were at least reasonable, I could let them slide, but most of them are just ridiculous.”

“Ah, I see now. Then, I’m really curious—what kind of nickname would you actually like to have?”

“Honestly, I’d rather not have a nickname at all. Though I know that’s probably impossible.”

It was, in fact, the truth.

Controlling the opinions of hundreds of thousands, if not millions of fans, was beyond anyone’s capability. Still, the audience found this all highly entertaining, even if the person in question—Yujin—was clearly not as amused.

Naturally, the MC, Oh Yeon-jin, decided to steer the conversation in another direction.

“Personally, if I had to pick, the nickname that suits Yujin the best would be ‘Apex Predator,’ like the name of the mode itself. Your gameplay has always dominated the field, which is why I think the nickname fits so well. What do you think of that, Yujin?”

“…I suppose I can tolerate that one. But it feels a little too much, since it’s not like the others haven’t done their part either. Still, I’ll do my best to live up to it.”

A standard response to a standard question.

There were plenty more things the hosts wanted to ask, but time was running short, and they had to be mindful of the editing process for the final broadcast, which would include highlights. So, the interview continued, covering topics like whether Yujin had received offers from overseas teams. One thing many overlooked was that she’d only been playing Dark Zone for about a month and a half. Yet, for all her fresh fame, the pressure of constant questions weighed on both Yujin and the MCs.

In the end, the spotlight shifted to Dice.

“Thank you very much, Yujin. Now, let’s move on to our next player, who has been on a remarkable rise recently—SSM’s own Dice! Let’s give her a big round of applause!”

Waaaah!

Thunderous applause and cheers filled the air.

By now, Dice should’ve been used to the attention, but the weight of expectations from so many people still made her feel the pressure. It was a common struggle among pro gamers—focusing more on results than the adoration of fans.

The screen behind her started to play Dice’s highlight reel. Just like Yujin, Dice had gained a slew of nicknames. SSM Entertainment’s pride, “The Gambler,” and many more. Initially, SSM hadn’t stood out much compared to other organizations, but Dice had rapidly risen through the ranks, defeating top contenders and earning a spot as one of the three players sent to compete in America.

And then, after meeting Yujin, someone who was already skilled became almost unstoppable. Hence the comments about her continued rise, even at the top.

After a brief pause, Dice adjusted the microphone attached to her collar and bowed slightly before speaking.

“I’m Dice from SSM Entertainment. It’s nice to be here again. It feels like it’s only been a year since I last stood on this stage, but with all the intense experiences I’ve had recently, time seems to fly by.”

“That’s absolutely true. Time really does fly. You’ve returned this year with a noticeably different aura. In particular, your more proactive approach seems to stand out. Could you tell us more from your perspective?”

“Well, I suppose it’s because I’ve gained more experience over time…”

Dice glanced at Yujin and lightly placed her hand on her shoulder, adding with a mischievous grin:

“…and, well, a certain someone has taught me how to handle things more boldly.”

“I just got through my turn, and you’re already dragging me back into this?”

“Don’t worry, it’s only just beginning.”

Sensing an opportunity, Kim Kang-hyuk, one of the MCs, tossed out an unscripted question.

“You two seem to be quite close. So, Dice, what kind of person is Yujin to you?”

“Oh… how should I put it? You know how in school, there are those teachers who are really strict and scary, but once you get to know them, they’re very kind and caring toward their students?”

“Ah, I get what you mean. So, is Yujin like a PE teacher?”

“Exactly. But unlike those teachers, Yujin doesn’t explode in anger when she’s frustrated, which… honestly, makes her scarier.”

She continued with a smirk:

“If I had to compare her to something else, maybe she’s like a gym trainer who’s patient but hits you with cold, hard facts.”

“Haha, that’s a really clever way to put it.”

It was exactly like that.

When you confessed that you ate too much junk food, she’d simply say, “That’s fine; we’ll just add more sets tomorrow.” It made the comparison to a scary teacher seem off, though. At least those teachers showed some mercy.

The conversation flowed on, and the MCs’ expressions shifted. It was an intentional change of tone—compared to Yujin, where the line of questioning had been more limited, Dice’s broader range of experiences allowed for more engaging discussions.

Specifically, this.

“Alright, let’s move on to the next segment.”

As they flipped through the script, Dice casually prepared her next answer. But when she saw the bolded words in front of her—“Pressure Interview”—her eyes widened. Dice had never been through a formal job interview since she was headhunted by SSM.

Before she could even wonder what it entailed, the explanation arrived.

“In simple terms, you’ll need to answer all the questions within three seconds.”

“What? I didn’t even do interviews when I joined the team.”

“Haha, well, now’s your chance! Here comes the first question!”

A holographic prompt floated before her, rather than the MC asking the question directly. Each was short enough to answer in under three seconds. Essentially, it was more of a rapid-fire quiz than a typical interview.

Thanks to her sharp reflexes, Dice skimmed through the first question at lightning speed.

Her answer came out even faster, almost reflexively.

Q: Are pro gamer skills inherited or trained?

“Definitely trained.”

The audience murmured, and even the casters exchanged glances. But the three pro gamers on stage nodded in quiet agreement.

The next question popped up.

Q: What’s your most memorable match as a pro gamer?

“I’d usually say last year’s seventh Asia Qualifier match, but I’ll go with the Tannhäuser Harbor match from this KSM.”

The atmosphere shifted again.

People nodded in understanding. It made sense—Dice had started a small snowball on that map, which grew into a full-blown avalanche, transforming the battlefield into a chaotic apocalypse.

Q: How would you describe Yujin in one word?

“She’s someone you can rely on.”

Truthfully, she was more like someone who would make your life miserable if you didn’t follow her lead, but people only hear what they want to. The audience was practically swooning with thoughts of trust and camaraderie. If only they knew that under Yujin’s training, it was more about draining every last drop of blood and sweat from your body.

The next question.

Q: Do you have any rivals?

“Not really. I tend to focus more on aiming for those above me rather than competing with people at my level.”

And just like that, the pressure interview ended.

Now it was time for some follow-up.

“Thank you for your answers. It felt almost like you’d prepared them in advance, which speaks to how polished and complete you are as a player.”

“That’s right. Now, back to the topic—there are so many people in Korea aspiring to become Dark Zone pro gamers. Dice’s words must inspire them. Could you elaborate on what you meant when you said that pro skills come from training?”

Dice’s journey seemed more like one of natural talent than one of sheer effort—an observation often made by her fellow pros. In the fast-paced, physical world of FPS combat, Dice, despite not having shown much interest in the field before, had quickly risen from an SSM trainee to a top-tier player.

So why did she emphasize training?

She answered.

“…Many might disagree, but when I talk about training, I’m not referring to ‘standard pro gamer training’ as most people imagine it. I’m talking about breaking down every movement—your hands, your feet, your body mechanics, your stride, your aim, everything.”

And that was only the beginning.

It involved running simulations hundreds, even thousands of times, getting your body and mind attuned to combat scenarios until it was second nature.

Once that foundation was laid, a personalized training regimen would begin.

You’d analyze everything from your shot grouping, body mechanics, unconscious biases like favoring one side over the other, and even figure out the optimal rate of fire based on your personal recoil management capabilities. Whether standing, crouching, or prone, every shooting posture was scrutinized.

“…That’s what I mean when I say training. It’s about analyzing all that data and finding your own optimal performance. And once you go through that kind of training, I believe anyone can reach the top ranks or even become a pro.”

Dice’s smooth, thorough explanation left almost everyone on stage dumbfounded. Even Yujin couldn’t help but glance over with a slight smirk.

Gambit and Mikael were quick to interject.

“So that’s what the public feedback session was all about.”

“Hey, Dice, Yujin, how about you give me some of that training too? It’s always me getting pummeled.”

They shared a laugh, but Dice realized just how much her approach to gaming deviated from the norm.

The next part of the show was about to begin.

“And now, before we start the exhibition matches, let’s give a round of applause to all the talented streamers and skilled players joining us today!”

Clap clap clap clap clap!

A parade of avatars began walking onto the stage. Each shook hands with the pros, bowed to the audience, and prepared for the games ahead. They were all at least Tier 1—ranked players about to face off against pros in what was known as a “fun match.” But everyone knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Dark Zone was a game where one small mistake could flip an entire outcome, even for pros.

Eighteen participants.

They were split into six teams of three, with each team playing against a duo of pro gamers in 2v3 matches.

Six exhibition matches.

With Yujin, Dice, Gambit, and Mikael all pairing up, each team would only get one shot at taking down the pros. And, of course, a third of them wouldn’t even get the chance to face off against Yujin and Dice directly.

Naturally, all 18 participants were hoping they’d get to play against Yujin.

“Why the long faces?”

“As long as we don’t get Yujin…”

“Wait, what? She’s the main star of the event—how can you avoid her? Even if you’ve lost to her before.”

'We’re saying this because we lost to her before, you idiot…'

Correction.

Seventeen participants.

“The draw begins now! You have ten minutes to prepare your strategies!”

It was over.

One of the skilled streamers, Cartographer, who had nearly forgotten about Yujin since she’d risen so high, looked at the spinning draw and knew in his heart that he was doomed.

On a bright, clear day with blue skies.