Chapter 2What If We Win

When I was seventeen, my childhood friend dragged me to my very first offline esports arena.

I still remember the deafening roar of the crowd when the final nexus cracked, and the casters’ voices booming through the stadium speakers:

“Who could ever forget Devin Cole? The greatest natural talent this region has ever seen—the undisputed king of tactical shooters!”

“Unmatched mechanics, pure dominance, completely peerless!”

Back then, Devin was magnetic. Men wanted to be him; women threw themselves at him; even passersby on the street couldn't look away from his sharp, effortless brilliance.

I spent five years loving him from afar. But unlike the countless girls who orbited his periphery, I didn't want to just be a face in the crowd. I actually wanted to reach him.

I majored in sports management in college and landed an administrative job at his organization the second I graduated.

The first time I met him in the hallway of the training facility, I stepped right into his path.

“Hi. I’m Nora.”

He lowered his gaze, his dark, sharp eyes scanning me for two or three silent seconds. Then, holding his iced Americano, he walked right past my shoulder.

“Move.”

He was icy, aloof, and possessed the solitary arrogance of an untouchable prodigy.

Later, I found out why he was particularly irritable that week: his first love had just broken up with him before moving abroad.

I was young then, stubborn enough to run straight into a brick wall without slowing down. Everyone in the club quickly realized I was pursuing him.

During one scrim review, the head coach leaned back and teased him, “Come on, Devin, just give the girl a chance. They say pursuing a guy is like parting a silk curtain, so why is she running into a vault door with you?”

Devin barely looked up from his match replay. When he finally glanced at me, his mouth curved into a flat, humorless smirk.

“What do you even like about me, Nora?” he asked coolly. “Tell me, and I’ll change it.”