Fenrir Translations
"Wow, these facilities are amazing. So this is Korea? Let me see, the name is... Incheon? Is that how you pronounce it? Incheon Airport?"
"Stop showing off, Viktor. I get that the airport is impressive, but we have a lot to do when we get to the hotel. We also need to think about adjusting to the time zone."
"Yelena, don't act smart just because you skimmed Wikipedia five minutes before we landed. Besides, VR will help us adjust to the time zone quickly."
"Hey, keep it down. Coach Mikhail is coming back any minute now."
The group quickly fell silent.
It didn’t take much to figure out who they were—the Russian national team representatives. Viktor scanned the area and shook his head. A welcoming crowd would’ve been nice, but there was none to be seen. Not because they weren’t popular, but simply because the twenty representatives were arriving in small groups.
Having twenty players arriving at the same time would be too much of a hassle. Splitting up the arrivals was a matter of logistics—easier to manage, especially when navigating unfamiliar territory. It also gave the players time to adjust without the pressure of a full team arriving all at once.
The reason for their silence was simple. Mikhail, the coach. There were rumors that he had once been part of Spetsnaz’s Vympel Group, Russia's elite special forces. Though no one knew for sure, Mikhail had the presence and authority that made him one of the most intimidating coaches.
Even though the days of his special forces service were long behind him, and his current job was more closely related to VR and gaming, his commanding aura had not faded. At least, Mikhail himself was aware that he still had that effect.
As if summoned by their conversation, Mikhail appeared. His stern face seemed even more severe after arriving in Korea. The Russian team automatically felt a weight pressing down on them, a reflection of how serious he looked. His mood wasn’t great today, but part of that might have been their imagination.
With a deep voice that seemed to resonate in the air, Mikhail spoke.
"Let’s move out. We’re not late, so we’ll reach the hotel on time. Dinner’s at the hotel buffet. You can explore once you've adjusted to the time zone. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"It’s pretty hot out. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a couple of bottles of vodka in the hotel fridge?"
"Ask the Icarus staff about that."
Even though Mikhail handled his duties as a coach, he had a lot more to manage than just strategies and tactics. Some of his old comrades would have laughed at the thought of him babysitting a bunch of gamers, but he didn’t mind. To him, being responsible and thorough was just part of his character, a discipline instilled in him not only as a special forces operative but also in his new profession.
That being said, there was one thing weighing on his mind.
...Something feels off.
It was his third time in Korea, but this trip felt different. There was a sense of unease, a vague pressure in the air, though it felt more like a personal premonition than a looming disaster. It wasn’t as if something huge was about to happen, but rather a subtle and persistent feeling.
Like standing before the open jaws of a tiger, Mikhail couldn’t shake the uneasy sensation. He was a professional—he knew personal feelings shouldn’t affect his work—but humans are not immune to such instincts.
As the limo sped towards Seoul, carrying the Russian national team and their coach, Mikhail let out a small sigh, barely audible to anyone but himself.
Was it after seeing Yujin? He couldn’t pinpoint when this feeling started. It wasn’t about doubting his team’s abilities under Yujin’s curriculum. No, it was something else, something deeper and harder to define.
His chest and mind ached faintly, not exactly fear or anxiety, but certainly close. He felt as if his thoughts were clouded by a fog.
Eventually, he drifted into a light sleep, only to be met with a disturbing dream.
….
In his dream, he was back in New York, moving through the streets with his comrades, engaged in a firefight. Shouts filled his ears, orders exchanged through tense communications. One by one, his teammates were cut down, and in the final moment, bullets pierced his chest.
The last thing he saw was a figure, hard to distinguish, but somehow resembling Yujin. To his shock, this figure raised a gun to his head and fired. The gunshot jolted him awake.
...Ugh.
What the hell was that?
It must have been the result of over-analyzing Yujin’s play style. Mikhail made a mental note to ask the Icarus staff if they had any suggestions for foods that could help his health once they reached the hotel.
The limousine continued speeding towards Seoul with the Russian national team inside.
Rustle, rustle.
"This is getting ridiculous."
The unboxing never seemed to end.
To be more specific, the requests for sponsored unboxings kept pouring in. It was no longer just a matter of finishing a few ads here and there—it had turned into an avalanche of offers.
There was no use complaining about it. To understand the situation, you first had to know how it started.
Click.
There was no hiding it—the last unboxing video had gone completely viral.
Not only did the edited version go viral, but the full-length video—roughly three to four hours long, including all the sponsored products—also passed 800,000 views. For advertisers, this was the jackpot. Especially the tactical tomahawk and spike hammer Yujin had used to tear open the boxes—those orders had exploded.
Other sponsored items included avatar accessories, wallets, and even winter jackets that were selling like crazy despite the season.
It was utter chaos.
So now, advertisers were lining up, requesting Yujin’s participation in various unboxing videos. The workload had become so overwhelming that Yujin had to admit it wouldn’t be possible to finish everything by the third week, or even before the Asian preliminaries.
The result? Mountains of deliveries. Even SSM, sensing an opportunity, had offered to manage the flood of products, slyly sliding over a contract with plenty of appealing terms.
But with the scrims starting tomorrow, Yujin couldn’t help but feel exasperated.
Sigh.
Carefully, Yujin sat on the couch, making sure the tail didn’t get caught.
Ironically, the couch was another sponsored item. It had proven quite useful, so a commercial had been made. Like the unboxing, Yujin filmed several broadcast segments on it. The public’s reaction was positive, though Yujin wasn’t sure how many people had actually bought one.
It wasn’t something people could just pick up after seeing a commercial—it was too big and expensive for an impulse buy. So Yujin shrugged off the responsibility.
But the main point was the upcoming scrims. Week four was just a day away, and recently, Yujin had delegated much of the work to Dice. Yujin focused on the big picture, while Dice took care of the details. Though it wasn’t quite as efficient as handling things personally, the national team players had already received plenty of guidance and direction.
The proof of that was in the message from Dice.
A message from Seoye-rin, sent just a few days ago.
Yujin had been puzzled at first, but after some investigation, it turned out the players' combat proficiency had increased by roughly 14% compared to last year.
Fourteen percent. It might not seem like much, but for a group of professionals who had already reached their peak, that level of improvement in just two weeks of intense training was remarkable.
Only two more players could advance to the finals, considering Yujin and Dice already had guaranteed spots, which left a slight feeling of regret.
Yujin opened the message window again, seeing something that caught the eye.
There was a PDF file attached below. Yujin had already skimmed through it. Of course, skimming wasn’t enough, but... well. The truth was, Yujin wasn’t used to this kind of preparation.
In the past, Yujin never knew exactly who the enemy was. It was a matter of shooting anyone shooting at the Dagger team. But high-priority targets had been carefully studied, so perhaps this was more about laziness.
Maybe it was just that adjusting to these procedures felt unnecessary. After all, wasn’t this kind of preparation a way to restore the social skills and humanity lost during those four long years?
Or perhaps it was all just an excuse.
Sigh.
Spending so much time alone at home often led to these kinds of wandering thoughts. Maybe the reason Yujin worked out so much was to avoid thinking like this.
After all, Yujin had seen similar things in the past—wondering if there would ever be a home to return to, or if settling down in a new place would ever feel right. The achievements and Icarus’ expanding presence had offered some comfort, but home was still home, and it remained elusive.
The phone rang, interrupting the train of thought. This time, it wasn’t an avatar-based call but a real voice. Dice’s call.
That familiar, soft voice teased Yujin’s ears.
"Yujin! You’re still up? What are you doing?"
"Unboxing today, unboxing tomorrow. Why don’t you come by and take some of this stuff off my hands? I even have a chair that’s good for your back."
"Oh, it’d be hard to carry it all. Could you send it by delivery? I’d really appreciate it…."
"Shipping’s cash-on-delivery, and the contents are random. You might end up with a sad-looking frog eye mask or a propeller hat. Maybe even a DIY bean sprout kit."
"You’ve got a real talent for picking things no one wants."
"People should be versatile, you know."
Despite the playful back-and-forth banter, Dice eventually agreed to come over and help with the unboxing, possibly even joining the video. Though she hesitated at first, the mention of motion-capture and avatar conversion gear piqued her interest.
Yujin asked if Dice had been watching the broadcasts, and it turned out she hadn’t. But since it hadn’t impacted her following the curriculum, Yujin didn’t mind too much. Not everyone had time to watch every stream.
Then came the second item on the agenda.
"The first wave of Russian players arrived last week. Zvezda, MKVS, Sputnik, and Strelka, with Coach Mikhail. A total of twenty players arrived over two days. It’s not a big deal, but I figured you’d want to know."
"…I wasn’t completely ignoring it. I read the PDF you sent."
"Wow."
What does she think of me? Yujin wondered.
Automatically, the mention of Russia triggered memories of the players' profiles from the PDF. Their play style was brutal and aggressive, favoring both Eastern and Western weaponry. But that wasn’t much of a concern to Yujin.
After all, despite the small differences between weapons, the goal was always the same—to kill the enemy. Brutality and aggression were common stereotypes for Russian players, with their rough, no-nonsense approach, heavily influenced by their Spetsnaz training.
But, as it had been before, Yujin wasn't particularly worried.
There’s no need for special precautions.
After all, if there was one thing Yujin had mastered, it was killing highly trained enemy operatives, especially Russian ones. Mikhail's soldiers were no exception, and Yujin had spilled enough of their blood to paint the Hudson River red.
Maybe I’m thinking too much.
"Got any special strategies? Some magic bullet for handling these guys?"
"Study your textbooks. Everything’s in there."
"Sigh. I figured as much. I guess I’ll just trust you again, as usual. Is that fine?"
"You should trust yourself, not rely on others."
"Sure, sure. Anyway, on another note—"
Dice’s familiar voice cut through the clutter in Yujin’s head.
As random, swirling thoughts and old memories receded, the call returned to more practical matters. What had started as a conversation about Russia’s national players had once again devolved into a casual chat, as it often did with Dice.
It was just another ordinary day.