I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 198 – Curtain Call

“We will now commence the summary of the 3rd Asian Preliminary Rounds!”

“Why do you look so happy?”

“Hehe, does it seem that way? It’s because a certain someone who’s been trending lately taught me some tips, and I managed to climb up to second place.”

In just a few minutes, the grand music pouring from the speakers seemed to make everyone in the stadium brim with confidence.

Moreover, before the summary began, viewers who gathered in both virtual and real worlds were fiercely competing to show their support. The VR viewers, displayed through holographic plates covering the walls, added even more heat to the atmosphere.

Both Dice and I were VR viewers and participants.

To protect our identities, the bodies of the two standing on the central stage were holograms projected from the ceiling.

…Anyway, how should I put it? Lately, Dice has become more open with compliments. No, maybe that’s too strong. It might be more accurate to say they’ve become shameless.

Of course, all the embarrassment Dice lost ended up being mine.

It was nice to have finally secured a legitimate chance to advance to the finals… but there was a slight reason for leniency now since it was just the two of us. As I said, just a little.

I quickly changed the topic.

“Was it like this last year too?”

“It was. But back then, the facilities were a bit lacking compared to now… This time, the separation between players and viewers is so well done that it’s hard to compare. If I exaggerate a bit, it feels like it’s hard to tell if we’re at the Asian preliminaries or in the off-season when we go to rest after the games.”

“Too much information.”

It seems the keyword “last year” triggered Dice’s excessive talk mode.

But I couldn’t just ignore it, so in the future, I’ll try to gently brush the edges rather than outright pressing the button. Of course, it’s a problem that the button moves on its own sometimes, but I’ll have to handle it as best as I can.

Anyway, how should I express my current emotions? Nostalgia? Not quite. It’s more like the relief felt from resolving long-standing issues.

Although I could leave for America right now, officially securing a ticket to the US at the end of the path I chose felt more valuable. Something like that.

Of course, this might seem a bit premature since the final participants – soloing category – hadn’t been announced yet… but it was just a thought.

“We will now announce the national rankings!”

Holograms unfolded rapidly.

There was no suspense in the announcement, and the Korean flag was surveying the other nations from the highest position. This victory wasn’t just due to Dice and me, but the average scores of Korean users had improved compared to last year and other national teams.

If one wanted, they could feel a sense of pride here too, but after countless debriefings over the past two days, we had enough experience to know how everyone’s skills had improved. There was no need to dwell on it again.

Nevertheless, the sight of countless viewers cheering until their voices cracked was still new to me.

“Five people. Last year, it was just three… but practically speaking, it hasn’t really increased. Without Yoo Jin and me, there are only three spots left?”

“Are you confident?”

“You can see it right there.”

The five vertically arranged flags quickly rearranged into a horizontal format as the hologram descended. Like a scroll unrolling due to gravity, familiar nicknames were listed beneath the flags.

Yoo Jin, Dice, Michael, Gambit, and Ink.

The reserve participants were Summit, Corvus, Crossline, Doberman, and Ebler. Simultaneously, similar lists appeared under the flags of Japan, Russia, Taiwan, and finally China.

Thus, the list was finalized.

Since the central stage existed in reality, it didn’t forcibly bring the finalists next to the host like in KSM. We just received the tickets for the finals through our electronic devices – or in my and Dice’s case, an email projecting into virtual reality.

The email contained a first-class plane ticket dated sometime in mid to late December and a thick PDF file detailing the expected schedule.

I considered asking if it was like this last year too, but Dice’s nonchalant reaction suggested it probably was.

───Waaaah!

This time, the cheers poured out equally for all the finalists.

It seemed like everyone was being congratulated, but for some reason, it sounded like they were desperately trying to hold onto the passing time. I was sure it wasn’t just the viewers feeling that way.

However, the sentimental moment was over. The number of people I taught had dwindled to the limit, and this was the last time – unless I stood here again next year, but that was a year away. Quite a long time.

As I was lost in these thoughts, I met Dice’s gaze.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Good luck.”

“Where am I supposed to go───”

Buzz.

At that moment, my vision reset to black, and in the next, I was standing beside the host.

I unconsciously looked up at the ceiling. My excellent eyesight confirmed the angle of the hologram projector had slightly changed from before. What should I say, this is the downside of VR. Since I didn’t come here in my physical body, I should have considered the possibility of being teleported back.

Anyway, it was obvious why I was here.

An interview.

While various plays I performed during this Asian preliminary poured out from behind me, I naturally received the microphone – maybe I should have anticipated this. It wasn’t hard to guess there would be an interview for the first place in the Asian preliminaries.

As I absorbed the host’s voice, I looked around at the ten thousand people gathered here.

“─Congratulations on being selected as this year’s player of the Asian preliminaries. How do you feel?”

“I’m thinking about how to prepare for the finals. Does that make me seem too inhuman?”

“Haha, don’t worry. You already seem superhuman.”

…My image… is ruined.

I could already envision Dice laughing her head off when I returned.

Anyway, the questions for the Asian preliminaries were fundamentally different from those of KSM or the preliminary ranks. It was time to graduate from questions like what mindset I had during the match or the secrets to always being in the top ranks.

As I said that, this Q&A session was unique; questions poured in not only from the viewers but also from the players on the central stage. Instead of asking verbally, they sent questions in text, and the host read them, so sensitive questions were fortunately filtered out.

Among the unfiltered questions sent by an anonymous Korean player – meaning one of the 19 finalists – was a rather trivial but memorable one.

“Haha, the next question. Let’s see… Ah, yes. It’s been a while since we got a question about Yoo Jin’s personal life. Fortunately, it’s far from sensitive… maybe. Anyway, the question is, who drinks better?”

“Drinks?”

Uh….

Recalling past memories….

Wait a minute.

Why can’t I remember?

But I do recall one thing vividly –

“I don’t know the details, but I remember hearing that someone couldn’t drink well. I remember hearing that their face would turn red with just a little alcohol… but I don’t know why.”

“Haha, that’s quite a surprising answer!”

A united voice filled the stadium, but I couldn’t give a more detailed answer. My memories were quite fragmented.

Anyway, after answering, it felt like another trivial, everyday weakness of mine had been revealed. I had almost no opportunity to drink, and since returning here, I hadn’t drunk at all, so I had completely forgotten….

People were really curious about a lot of things.

“Yes, you’ve done great! Next up-”

After answering a few more questions, the host expressed great thanks and sent me back to my original spot, calling Dice up next.

As the time displayed on the ceiling clock showed 6:30 PM, users from other countries were also called up one by one. Judging by the list of names going up on stage, it seemed they were mostly selecting from the finalists.

Just when it seemed like the time was approaching the end-

“The Asian preliminaries don’t end here.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve forgotten already.”

Simultaneously, the host continued.

“Thank you to everyone who has watched the games so far. I will now step down and see you next year. But the Asian preliminaries are not over yet!”

Whirr!

At the same time, the central stage split into five sections, connecting to the outside.

In that moment, a thought from the various tournament descriptions I’d read before flashed through my mind.

“From this moment, we will hold a fan meeting with the players by drawing lots-!”

Ah.

As the host enthusiastically mentioned the fan meeting draw, and the holographic panels filled with the draw screens, I let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.

Of all the things to forget, why this?

Human-built structures may seem grand, but their size feels trivial when filled with a large number of people.

So, why bring this up suddenly?

“…How many people are participating in today’s fan meeting?”

“1,500 offline and 1,500 online… totaling 3,000.”

“That’s a lot.”

Bustling.

Even in the grand Yongsan eSports stadium, one of the largest human-built structures, it was no exaggeration to say that it felt packed with thousands of people crammed in.

There was one fortunate and one unfortunate aspect to this situation. First, the fortunate one – not only Dice and I were here, but around a hundred players from various countries who participated in today’s Asian preliminaries were all present.

In layman’s terms, it was like having five service desks with twenty staff members each. While it was clear the Korean desk would have the longest line, it meant the wait time was shorter than expected.

Now, for the unfortunate aspect,

“It’s cramped, so cramped….”

“Whoa, don’t get too close to Yoo Jin. The hologram will get fuzzy.”

With 100 players split into five booths, the space felt even more confined.

What should I call this, a human disaster?

Not a talented person, but a literal human disaster.

Moreover, as someone mentioned earlier, Dice and I had no intention of appearing in person and were currently holograms. Specifically, we were using mobile hologram drones from yesterday’s broadcast with Harmony. This meant we had many movement restrictions.

Additionally, if the drone suddenly malfunctioned, it would be over, so others had to put in some extra effort to secure a small space for Dice and me in this cramped area.

Nevertheless, time marched on.

The fan meeting, something I had never done before, was simpler than expected.

“Could we take a picture with me wrapped in a snake tail?”

“….”

“Oh, I can’t do that. I’ve never tried it!”

“…Why not?”

Of course, simple didn’t mean easy.

Fans obsessed with snake tails.

It was already awkward enough being a hologram, and I couldn’t understand why people liked this – I still thought of myself as having a normal person’s sensibilities.

Even more suspicious was Dice opposing the idea of taking pictures with tails.

I was seriously contemplating whom to deal with first.

Click!

“Wow, wow, wow… Is this a hologram? The quality is amazing.”

“Oh, please move along. Don’t praise the tail!”

“Hehe, today’s game was awesome! Keep up the great work-!”

Goodness.

A fan meeting was still a fan meeting.

In the end, I took the pictures they wanted. Naturally, I couldn’t give such a privilege to just one person, so I did the same for everyone in the long line. Everyone had various ways they wanted to use the tail. It was dizzying.

Nonetheless, the total of 1,500 people passed through faster than expected. The staff managed the event well, and the partitioned areas with restricted movement routes were effective.

Thus, over approximately 1 hour and 30 minutes, the 100 people gathered here, including myself, completed the fan meeting for 1,500 real-life participants.

In other words, it was now time for the lottery-drawn virtual participants to join.

While the staff busily installed hologram projectors on the ceiling, Dice threw subtle questions, seemingly impressed by my interview.

It turned out to be about drinking.

“Are you really not good at drinking?”

“Probably not. So, I don’t know if I’ll drink later.”

“Oh, let’s drink together. How much can you drink? Do you get rowdy? That would be scary.”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll take the lead.”

“Has taking the lead come to mean satisfying personal curiosity?”

“Hehehe.”

Honestly, I can’t stand it.

Maybe I was raising rebellious students instead of disciples.

-[Notification: Fan meeting resumes now.]

“Ugh.”

“Hang in there, it’s almost over.”

The hologram projectors, now installed and activated, shot lights from the ceiling. Tens to hundreds, and eventually a thousand virtual avatars orderly appeared.

Though it felt excessive, I pushed the thought away.

It was time to finish gracefully.

The curtain was falling on the Asian preliminaries soloing.