Chapter Text
burnt toast theory: a metaphorical concept suggesting that seemingly negative events or inconveniences can actually lead to positive outcomes.
November 20X1
Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers trembled.
Yoo Joonghyuk was no stranger to grand competitions. This was his 8th year competing at Worlds since he first debuted at 17 years old. By now, he’d gotten so familiar to the lights spilling all over the arena, the crowds filling the venue with cheers as they hollered in support for their team, and the cameras shadowing each player, he no longer felt anything else but the need to win. Even the gaming chairs in the arena and the equipment all feel like a part of his body.
Which was why, when Yoo Joonghyuk stared at his hand holding the mouse, it bothered him that it felt strangely… alien to him.
A woman placed her hand on his chair’s armrest, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. The tips of her hair uncomfortably tickled his forearms and he fought the urge to inch back. “Is something the matter, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Her voice was laced with poison. Yoo Joonghyuk steeled himself, but still found his throat very, very dry. While keeping his expression carefully neutral under the scrutiny of dozens of cameras, he replied, “Mind your own business, Croft.”
Anna Croft lifted her hand and adjusted her headset. As she walked away from him, she muttered out one word: “Prick.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked up at the scoreboard laid out on the big screen overhead in the middle of the arena: ZRT vs. OL, 0-2.
He wasn’t someone who succumbed to pressure so he didn’t know why the hand holding his mouse was still shaking, the muscles beneath his skin threatening to betray him. He clenched the mouse tighter; in tonight’s Worlds, they had not won a single game, and he could feel everyone’s growing frustration the same way a prisoner on death row forebodes his execution. Even Yoo Joonghyuk himself knew that his performance tonight was completely lackluster compared to every other one in his career.
But he tried to shake these thoughts off as both teams entered the draft pick phase.
In the end, it was a lost cause — Zarathustra was crushed by Olympus during the knockout stage in a truly humiliating grand slam of 0-3.
Somewhere out there, in a completely different part of the world, a certain viewer sighed in disappointment before shutting off his phone. It was almost time to get off his train stop.
When Kim Dokja’s contract with MinoSoft ended, he didn’t feel sad in the least — sure, now he was unemployed and didn’t have any source of income, but it’s an event he’d long expected. He walked out of the building and didn’t look back, carrying the singular bedraggled box that contained all remaining proof of his miserable corporate life.
At least it’s over now. MinoSoft was the worst company he’d ever worked in.
Fifteen minutes later, a sleek, black Lamborghini pulled up right in front of him, and its driver rolled down the windows. She had a lollipop in between her lips, and she raised her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Happy first day of unemployment,” Han Sooyoung greeted him way too happily, like he hadn’t just lost his job. “Get in.”
But it’s just what Kim Dokja preferred. He’d rather make a few wisecracks here and there than mope around and be miserable. Opening the door to the passenger seat, he let out a light laugh. “Of course you’d celebrate my unemployment.”
Han Sooyoung parked her car outside a small convenience store and filled the basket up with instant noodles before heading back to Kim Dokja’s apartment. Sometimes, Kim Dokja forgot that his friend was actually rich with the way she acted so stingy and cheap. By the time they got seated around his dining table (a small, foldable table bought for cheap at a garage sale), the sun had already set and the noodles were ready to eat.
Kim Dokja handed Han Sooyoung an extra pair of disposable chopsticks as he opened his phone.
“So,” Han Sooyoung slurped her instant ramyeon a little too loudly, “what plans do you have after MinoSoft?”
Kim Dokja doesn’t look up from his phone. “Don’t know.”
“Don’t know?” Han Sooyoung echoed. “Didn’t you submit a few applications to MinoSoft’s sister companies?”
“All rejected,” Kim Dokja sighed. “I even went to an interview but they haven’t gotten back to me, and it’s been 3 weeks since. I don’t really have a good record in MinoSoft so chances are they probably won’t take me.”
“Well, fuck them. Why don’t you work at Fourth Wall Publishing instead?” Han Sooyoung pointed her chopsticks at him. “I could really use an editor slash beta reader like you. And I won’t mistreat you like those MinoSoft idiots.”
“Won’t mistreat me like those MinoSoft idiots, my ass,” Kim Dokja gave a light scoff as he threw a sheet of tissue at her, “you have more material against me than MinoSoft does.”
“What can I say? It’s a lot of fun getting on your nerves,” Han Sooyoung wiped the edges of her mouth with the tissue he tossed. “But I’m serious about the editor thing, by the way.”
“Honestly speaking, I don’t think I’m cut out for that kind of life,” Kim Dokja shook his head as he took a mouthful of noodles. “I’m not great at technical edits so I’d only weigh you down.”
“That’s too bad,” Han Sooyoung shrugged. “The offer’s always open, though.”
On his phone, Kim Dokja opened a certain blue bird app out of pure habit and scrolled down his timeline while finishing his noodles. The grand finals for Worlds recently came to an end, but the internet still hadn’t stopped talking about it even after several days had already passed.
Trends for you
Trending in esports
#OLYMPUS
29.7k tweets
#OLWin
20.4k tweets
Zarathustra
21.2k tweets
#Worlds20XX
35.7k tweets
WASHED
9.4k tweets
Punisher
28.3k tweets
The trending tags were pretty much the same, save for one that caught Kim Dokja’s eye upon scrolling further down.
PUNISHER LEFT ZRT
30.2k tweets
NEW TEAM
6.7k tweets
He immediately pressed the first tag. It seemed to be fairly recent too, with most of the tweets made only last night which explained why he hadn’t seen it yet. Kim Dokja opened Zarathustra’s official esports account to see a new pinned post with thousands of more retweets than likes.
Zarathustra @ZRTLoL
The contract with LCK ZRT team's 'Punisher' Yoo Joonghyuk has ended. We want to extend our gratitude to 'Punisher' for all of his contributions to the team and for being a part of Zarathustra’s past journey, and we will keep supporting him in his future endeavors.
Kim Dokja nearly dropped his chopsticks in surprise. “Wow, he actually left Zarathustra.”
Han Sooyoung raised her cup now devoid of noodles to empty her sodium-filled ramyeon soup. “Yoo Joonghyuk?”
“Mn,” Kim Dokja clicked on the post to see an ocean of netizens with mixed feelings about the announcement. “It was about time. Of all the teams he’s ever been in, ZRT’s the one that misused and wasted his abilities the most.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I did some digging a while back, and it seemed that most of their issues stemmed from in-team politics. Something along the lines of Anna Croft’s — the jungler for ZRT’s — captaincy being threatened because of Yoo Joonghyuk. I’m surprised the dismissal tweet was even worded nicely, they must’ve bribed the members handsomely considering how much they all clearly dislike Yoo Joonghyuk,” Kim Dokja unfollowed Zarathustra’s account.
“You really hate this team, don’t you?” Han Sooyoung scoffed.
“His 3 years in Zarathustra has been the worst years of my life as a Yoo Joonghyuk fan.” Kim Dokja continued to read the replies on the Yoo Joonghyuk Zarathustra dismissal post. “ZRT finally realized how dogshit YJH is, good riddance? This fucker, ZRT wouldn’t even get into the past 2 Worlds championships if it weren’t for him!”
Han Sooyoung only raised her eyebrows in amusement as Kim Dokja continued to type away on his phone, the speed at which his fingers flew over his keyboard accelerating with every second.
yearning everyday @lovemao
punisher should just retire lol. his piss-poor performance this entire season just proves it, esp after he dragged ZRT down
Kim Dokja replied to that with, were you watching Worlds with your eyes closed? Punisher didn’t do good this year but ZRT’s a top team in the LCK for a reason, and it wasn’t because of your ZRT btw. it’s a miracle they even made it to Worlds last year when ZRT’s toplaner was inting hard
CONGRATS OLYMPUS @brosdontdie
punisher fans are just pure delusional atp. he’s past his peak. it’s been YEARS since he’s actually won Worlds, it’s time to put grandpa to rest
Kim Dokja replied, Talk to us when your fave is a 3-time champion. You Olympus fans are getting way too cocky after winning ONE championship.
punisher noticed me OCTOBER 30, 20XX @punipunilovebot
omfg you punisher antis are so unsrs. he did well this year despite not winning! ZRT wasn’t the best team for him, and you all are just jealous your faves can never amount to my glorious Supreme King’s achievements
reader @kdj18649158
replying to @punipunilovebot
You know damn well this Worlds was the most horseshit Punisher has ever been, stop glazing him.
punisher noticed me OCTOBER 30, 20XX @punipunilovebot
replying to @kdj18649158
???? person in my comments are u rlly a fan or do u actually hate him
reader @kdj18649158
replying to @punipunilovebot
180.178.37.217
punisher noticed me OCTOBER 30, 20XX @punipunilovebot
replying to @kdj18649158
WTFF
Even Kim Dokja couldn’t help but chuckle at the fake IP address scare.
“Fighting with Twitter users is just peak unemployed behavior,” Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes. “Oh wait, you are unemployed now.”
“How hilarious, Han Sooyoung,” Kim Dokja lifted a sheet of tissue to clean his lips. “Team announcements should be happening soon since it’s the transfer season, but I’m keeping my expectations low.”
Han Sooyoung propped a hand on her cheek. “So Yoo Joonghyuk will be contracted by a different team this time? I’d like to know what you think.”
Kim Dokja’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, “I don’t think Yoo Joonghyuk will ever go to Olympus. Sure, they’ve got the budget to contract him, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t fit their style of “playing as a team”. That said, also I don’t think he’ll go for any of the teams in Europe, China, or America seeing as he doesn’t have a good relationship with them right now after giving the poorest performance of his career during this year’s Worlds. He shouldn’t go to the other leagues, they’re too weak for him. The current LCK teams also don’t seem to be able to keep up with him… so whichever team he’ll get into will only end up getting carried by him.”
He noticed that Han Sooyoung was staring at him blankly and suddenly got a little sheepish. “Ahem. I mean. That’s just what I think.”
“Holy shit…” Han Sooyoung said incredulously. “You’re serious.”
Kim Dokja waved a hand dismissively, ears still red from the embarrassment of rambling. “Anyway, it’s actually difficult to predict Yoo Joonghyuk’s next actions this time. There’s no team better than Zarathustra at the moment.”
“With the rate things are going, it’s not surprising if he does actually retire,” Han Sooyoung threw out randomly.
He stopped mid-chew.
Yoo Joonghyuk retiring? Honestly speaking, he never thought of that.
If Yoo Joonghyuk retired… what would Kim Dokja do?
It felt weird to even think of such a possibility — after all, Kim Dokja followed Yoo Joonghyuk’s career before he even went pro. For the past several years, although parasocially, Kim Dokja has been with him through every milestone, every controversy, every win, every defeat, and every step of his journey.
He has rooted for him, booed him, and unconditionally supported him in his 13-year gaming career.
And the other party didn’t even know it.
“... Kim Dokja?” Han Sooyoung prompted as she put down her chopsticks. “You good? Your noodles are getting cold.”
Kim Dokja blinked once, “Nothing. I was just thinking about something.”
“Was it because of what I said about your idol retiring?” Han Sooyoung unwrapped a lollipop right in front of him. “What, you’re actually worried about that?”
“It’s not that I’m worried,” he shook his head. “It’s—” —a little difficult to accept, considering how much he’s been a part of my life— “—a matter that doesn’t really concern me.”
She continued to absentmindedly stare at him, lollipop in her mouth. Everything in her eyes was telling him she didn’t buy it one bit.
“Well, I mean,” Kim Dokja cleared his throat, “it’s not like he’ll stop streaming in the near future. Even if he retires, as long as I’m able to watch over him, there’s no reason for me to be worried about anything.”
So began the tedious process of job-hunting.
When he wasn’t lying in bed keeping up-to-date with his bookmarked webnovels, he was refreshing his emails for any sort of reply from the dozens of applications he sent out.
He was so desperate he even set his KakaoTalk status to “seeking employment”, hoping the few contacts he had there would listen to his pleas. Then again, Kim Dokja’s social media accounts were a barren wasteland, and he almost regretted not making stable work connections.
It’s not his fault most of his superiors in MinoSoft were absolutely insufferable.
Two weeks have gone by since his dismissal from MinoSoft, and upon waking up at noon he grumbled like he still had to go to work at 7 AM in the morning. When Kim Dokja opened his eyes, he came face-to-face with the electricity disconnection warning he taped to his wall the night before and mentally slapped himself.
This was supposed to motivate him to get a job already, but looking at it now, he just felt irritated. What was the Kim Dokja of last night even thinking?
Just when he was about to take the warning paper off the wall, the phone on his side merrily chimed. Thinking it was just Han Sooyoung (because who else would text him so early in the morning?), he took his sweet time rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms before picking it up… but when he opened the notification, he nearly dropped his phone in surprise.
K.Rodgraim
Are you still seeking employment?
Kim Dokja slapped himself awake.
Kyrgios Rodgraim… The message was from a contact he never expected to reach out to him again.
Although it’d only been a few years since they’d last kept in touch, it still felt like a lifetime ago. Once upon a time, Kim Dokja hadn’t led such a bleak and dreary existence, his name even appearing in several tabloids and articles.
Yet that era of his life was long gone. Without even giving his former mentor an explanation, he exchanged those days for the life he now lived — an uncertain, boring one where he would constantly worry about making just enough for a living.
Now… the fact that Kyrgios was contacting him again meant this is something serious.
KDJ
Long time no see.
K.Rodgraim
?
‘Long time no see’, you brat!!
Who told you not to keep in touch with me? Is this how I brought you up?
KDJ
… You didn’t raise me
You took me in when I was 23
K.Rodgraim
At 23 years old your mentality was still that of a brat’s.
KDJ
Are you done making fun of me?
FYI: yes, sir, I still am seeking employment.
K.Rodgraim
Good. I’ll cut to the chase, there’s something I need you for.
Let me ask you: are you still interested in LoL esports?
Behind the screen, Kim Dokja gulped. Of course he’s still interested in esports. There’s not a single day where he wasn’t up-to-date with everything that’s going around within the LCK.
However… he had a feeling that the way he answered will change the course of this conversation, so he should tread lightly.
KDJ
Yes I am. Is what you contacted me for related to that?
K.Rodgraim
Precisely
I will be straightforward with you — I’m here to offer you a coaching job.
I know you haven’t coached in years, but since you’re still keeping up-to-date with the LCK it shouldn’t be difficult to come back. Especially for you, considering your skills.
KDJ
… how did you know I was keeping up with the LCK?
K.Rodgraim
Is my disciple such an idiot? I see your alt account’s tweets.
… Oh. Wait, Kyrgios knew his alt account on Twitter?
K.Rodgraim
I don’t know the exact details of your retirement three years ago, nor what it is you’ve been up to lately, but seeing as your status has been ‘seeking employment’ for two weeks now… I can only assume my idiot disciple is down on his luck?
KDJ
You certainly are as blunt as ever…
K.Rodgraim
What do you think about the coaching job? It’s a relatively known team within the LCK.
You can send me an updated copy of your resume later via email and I’ll forward you the details.
This was more like the Kyrgios he knew — he was a stubborn individual who refused to take rejection as an answer. If Kim Dokja declined, Kyrgios would find a way to make him change his mind. He hasn’t even answered him, yet he’s already asking for his resume!
KDJ
what if I, hypothetically, rejected your offer?
K.Rodgraim
Then enjoy unemployment.
KDJ
Haha, you know I can’t afford to do so…
…
…
.
… With a heavy, desperate heart, Kim Dokja typed out, OK. I’ll send you my updated resume within the day and hit send.
December 20X1
Part of him felt like packing his things and leaving the country with what little money he had left in his bank account. Kim Dokja never imagined he’d return to the esports industry ever again since his decision to retire, but fate did have its surprises.
Two days later he’s checking his reflection’s appearance in front of a quaint little coffee shop’s glass window. The customer inside at the other side of the glass gave him a strange judgemental look and Kim Dokja promptly bowed his head in shame before walking away.
Entering the coffee shop, he double-checked his texts to see if he was in the right place. He’s supposed to be meeting with one of Kyrgios’s connections, but he can’t seem to find—
“Psst!” A hand with a few golden bracelets rose to the air. “Over here!”
Entering his sights was a woman with black ribbons threaded through her long, flowy blonde hair. Her curious emerald-green eyes sized him up from head to toe, following his every movement to the moment he sat across her. Kim Dokja was familiar with this look — this must be his employer. He returned her smile as he settled himself onto the seat.
“Goodness, I never thought I’d meet you one day!” The woman held out a well-manicured hand towards him. “I’m Uriel, manager for Transcendence. Kyrgios sent over your resume for review the night before, but I’ve known you since your coaching days several years ago!”
Uriel? Now that name rang a few bells. Kim Dokja politely reciprocated the handshake. “Kim Dokja. I’m sorry, you’ve known me since back then?”
“Yes!” Uriel excitedly took a sip from her latte. “Back when you were still coaching for Syswitz Industrial Complex. I’ve been a fan of yours since SIC defeated Eden in that year’s regular season.”
Now he remembered; SIC did crush a team like that when he still worked as a coach. Though now it seemed like Uriel retired from pro gaming.
“Then you suddenly announced your retirement after Worlds the following year,” Uriel pouted, “so I didn’t expect to see you again, much less get the opportunity to work alongside you, but here you are!”
Looking back on it, his time in Syszwitz Industrial Complex wasn’t anything too impressive — that was a top 8 team at best, so why did Uriel become a fan of his?
Still, Kim Dokja kept the smile on his face. “Ah but, I haven’t exactly officially accepted the offer yet, noh?”
Uriel grinned. “This afternoon, Transcendence has a scheduled scrimmage against Gilobat Esports. Most of our players are newly contracted so they haven’t gotten used to playing with each other yet.”
Kim Dokja nodded, already knowing where this conversation was headed.
“Why don’t you assist me in facilitating this scrim?” Uriel laced her fingers together on the table. “It’ll help you get a feel for what the team is like. With Kyrgios’s recommendation coupled by your resume, I have little doubt in your coaching capabilities. However, it’d still be nice to see you in action. Think of it as your own personal tryouts! What do you say?”
The job was practically dangled on a line in front of him. “Sounds great. What time does it start?”
After lunchtime, Uriel personally drove Kim Dokja to Transcendence’ base.
It was located in a rather nifty part of Gangnam District — TR’s base was a 10-story building with clean lines and sharp angles defining its silhouette. Gold accents against black materials reflected the sun, giving the building a more regal look. On top of the building were the letters TR stylishly placed over its logo.
Transcendence was a team Kim Dokja was only a bit familiar with. It was a top 8-at-best team within the LCK, and they didn’t usually make it far into the regional or international tournaments.
Uriel led Kim Dokja through the lobby, using her ID card to help him get past the turnstile gates, and started to give him a quick tour of the entire place.
“This is the lobby! Doesn’t it look nice?
“Over here’s the pantry, breakroom, and the kitchen. Shit, I forgot we had to restock on fresh vegetables and groceries.
“The streaming rooms are over here on the 4th floor. You should check it out some time!
“Toilets? Oh, they’re at the end of every hallway on each floor.
“And this—” Uriel opened a black door on the 3rd floor, “—is the practice room, where most of our players will be spending their time in.”
The practice room was pretty large; there were several high-end computer setups on each side of the room, and in the center of the room were beanbags and a small couch behind a huge TV on one wall. The walls were gray and gold, and the team’s name was inlaid on the area on top of the TV. The sunlight from the windows pouring into the room felt nice, and the intense air conditioning even made Kim Dokja want to bring a jacket.
The practice room was also occupied by three people. The moment Uriel walked in, a girl with a ponytail looked up from one of the beanbags. “Uriel-unnie! You’re back?”
Another person, this one a guy with the most horrible white hair dye job Kim Dokja has ever seen, gave him an uninterested look. “And who’s this ahjussi you brought with you?”
Ahjussi? Wait, he doesn’t look THAT old, does he? Come to think of it, how old are these two? They look way too young to be in their 20s…
“This is Kim Dokja, he’ll be your coach for today,” Uriel introduced to the three. Her tone implied, hopefully in the future, too.
“You!” A girl with short blonde hair pointed a finger at him. “Y-You again?!”
Kim Dokja recognized her immediately and was surprised. He didn’t expect to see her here. “… Hayoung-ah? It’s nice to see you again.”
“It’s been years, you jerk! When you suddenly retired you went MIA! I couldn’t even find your socials and thought you died!” Jang Hayoung rose up from the couch and lightly punched his arm. “And now you come back out of nowhere! Where have you been?!”
The girl with the ponytail gasped. “You know this ahjussi, Hayoung-unnie?”
“Yep,” Jang Hayoung held up a fist in his way. “This guy used to be our coach back when I still played for the team Syswitz Industrial Complex.”
Kim Dokja returned her fistbump. “You certainly haven’t changed.”
“Nice to meet you ahjussi,” the ponytailed girl waved, “I’m Lee Jihye. The bleached hair dumbass is Kim Namwoon.”
“Bleached hair dumbass, what bleached hair dumbass,” Kim Namwoon kicked her beanbag, “you helped me with this!”
Lee Jihye was offended. “For the record it was you who did most of the work! It looks like shit because of you!”
“Only because you weren’t reading the instructions properly when I told you to—”
“Ahem,” Uriel cleared her throat loudly, “are you two fucking done?”
This caused the two to immediately shut up. “Yes ma’am,” they said in unison.
Uriel sighed as she placed a hand on her hips. “As you can already see, these are the types of people you have to deal with on the team.”
Kim Dokja chuckled in response, “I’ve handled a lot worse.” At the very least, teenagers are easier to handle than immature 40 year-olds in corporate.
“Not everyone on the team is like this, though. Speaking of the team,” Uriel folded her arms against her chest, “how come only you three are here? Where’s the other two?”
“Hyunsung-oppa texted me earlier. He got stuck settling some things with the moving truck, but he’s on his way,” Lee Jihye answered. “As for Master, he’s getting groceries. Should I call him over now?”
“The match won’t start for another hour, he’ll be back soon,” Uriel turned to Kim Dokja. “In the meantime, why don’t you go up to the pantry to get a snack first while everyone sets up their computers? It’s on the 5th floor, I can give you my ID card.”
Kim Dokja gave her an expression of gratitude. “Thank you. I will go check it out, then.”
“Ooh, ahjussi!” Lee Jihye knelt up on her beanbag to look at him, “If it’s not too much, can you do us a favor and get us that bag of Doritos from the pantry?”
“And the chocolate milk box from the ref too!” Kim Namwoon called out.
Kim Dokja scoffed, “What am I, your personal errand runner?”
“Thank you, ahjussi!” Lee Jihye shot him a thumbs-up and a wink as she skipped over to the computers.
Uriel patted his shoulder in sympathy as if to say, you got this.
Well, he’s used to running errands for coworkers. Kim Dokja used the stairs to go to the 5th floor, thinking it would be a nice opportunity to walk around the building himself.
Everything in this building was much fancier and high-end than anything he had at home. Hell, some of these appliances were more impressive than the ones they had in MinoSoft. While distracted by the 6-slice toaster on the counter, Kim Dokja put a hand on the refrigerator door handle to swing it open and accidentally brushed hands with someone else.
He immediately retracted his touch, ready to blurt out a simple apology. But when he saw who it was he brushed hands with, every single word he planned to say died on his tongue.
This man had a face that outclassed every single supermodel and top-listing actor in the world. Slightly wavy hair crowned the top of his head, right above a face so carefully sculpted by a thousand artisans. There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize it at first sight — hell, he’s practically watched this man grow up into the person he was today! There wasn’t a single day where he didn't see this perfectly, unfairly good-looking face on his shitty phone’s screen.
Once upon a time, Kim Dokja fantasized about what he would say when he met Yoo Joonghyuk once more. “Hello”, and “it’s nice to see you again, sorry I didn’t attempt to contact you for years, I was busy trying not to die,” were the top contenders.
However, every single one died on his tongue at this very moment. Instead, he stood rooted in place, shocked beyond belief at the encounter he never expected to have again in a million years.
Yoo Joonghyuk clearly found this strange. Clicking his tongue, he gave him a shooing gesture with one of his hands. “Move. You’re in the way.”
At that moment, Kim Dokja remembered exactly what type of person Yoo Joonghyuk was.
His right eye twitched, but he stayed in place. “I-I’m sorry?”
Yoo Joonghyuk arched an eyebrow. “You’re still not moving?”
Embarrassed, Kim Dokja immediately straightened his posture and stepped to the side… but not without accidentally stepping on the other’s foot in the process.
“Fuck,” he swore, before realizing he should’ve apologized first. “I mean, sorry. Slip of the tongue.”
Yoo Joonghyuk shot him a nasty side-eye even while he opened the refrigerator door. Wordlessly, he harshly shoved all the vegetables and groceries inside the refrigerator before slamming it shut. With his hands in the pockets of his black-and-gold jacket, he sauntered away without even sparing him another glance.
The entire interaction screamed S-tier asshole.
The whole time Kim Dokja tried to get over his disbelief, he couldn’t remember what it was exactly he went into the pantry for. And when he saw that it was nearly time for the scrim to begin, he rushed back down to the practice room, where all 5 members of Transcendence — plus Uriel — were waiting.
“Oh, finally, you’re here!” Uriel immediately rushed over to his side. “I was just about to find you myself!”
“Eh?” Lee Jihye swiveled around in her gaming chair the moment he walked in. “You were gone for so long but you haven’t even brought back the chips! Did you eat it, ahjussi?!”
“And my chocolate milk,” Kim Namwoon sighed in disappointment before rising from his seat. “Now I’ll have to go get it before the match starts…”
“Be quick, Namwoon,” a man somehow taller than Yoo Joonghyuk, with a voice so gentle it was surprising, reminded him. “We can’t keep GLE waiting.”
“Right, I almost forgot,” Uriel patted Kim Dokja’s shoulder. “For those who weren’t here earlier, this guy over here’s our coach-to-be!”
“It’s nice to finally see everyone,” Kim Dokja politely greeted. “I’m Kim Dokja. I’ll be helping Uriel today as your de facto coach.”
Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly choked on the water he was drinking. The empty tumbler made a loud BANG! as it collided with his desk.
“Ooh, this is the new coach you’ve been talking about?” The tall man flashed him a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Dokja-ssi. I’m Lee Hyunsung, TR’s support.”
“It’s not official yet,” Kim Dokja clarified, mirroring his expression, “but I’ll do what I can today to help the team. It’s nice to meet you too, Hyunsung-ssi.”
Uriel’s gaze lifted over to where a certain man was sitting, trying his best to ignore her new coworker-to-be, and loudly cleared her throat. “Aren’t we missing someone else’s introduction?”
Yoo Joonghyuk visibly paused. Feeling the rest of the team’s eyes on him, he slowly turned around in his gaming chair, coming face-to-face with Kim Dokja. This time, there was something different about the way their gazes met as a flash of recognition glinted in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes.
It was like all previous animosity Yoo Joonghyuk bore around him disappeared.
He remembered him.