FBPP C18

Chapter 18

The moment Ji-han confirmed the enemy support was immobilized, he bought every item he had intentionally left unpurchased.

He was at max level.

Ji-han sent Inegro to the front line, and the moment he engaged he used basic attacks to slice at Catherine, frowning.

That Catherine bastard must’ve been sitting on a decent pile of coins—she kept getting hit but her health bar refilled and her level rose. Bleed damage ignores defense as true damage, so that wasn’t the issue; what bothered him was witnessing her regular auto-attack damage dwindling. She must’ve gone and stacked a ridiculous amount of defense items.

When Chaplin’s ultimate ended and Catherine was freed from the bind, a translucent shield formed around her body. She extended her chain, ignoring Ji-han’s skill-hitboxes.

“Did these assholes both turn on pervert builds as a duo?”

A lunatic had equipped a melee super-armor special kit. Sub-tanks typically buy the same kinds of things a support might—vision wards, ultimate-enhancement items if their ult is strong, or occasionally long-range super-armor—to be able to enter the enemy base and ignore ADC/support harassment when they dive in.

But melee super-armor??

And this bastard had been taunting without using a single item the whole match, only to pop it right now.

You don’t forget a freak who pulls off such a perverted build. Could it be that this guy, supposedly Plat here, just threw together whatever the hell he wanted?

“Fuck, take this crap to casuals!”

Why the hell are you pulling this in ranked, you asshole!

Nasarun had no way to chase a Catherine who tethered herself to an object and zipped away on her chain.

Wow—are we just letting a perfect kill slip away?

Ji-han’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Then, as if predicting Catherine’s path, a vine shot out. It landed just slightly ahead of Catherine, and when Catherine arrived the vine snared and held her ankles. A prediction shot.

Ping!

ChouxCreamLatte has requested assistance.

Something was going sideways up front; both allies and enemies were tangled in chaos. But Dennis was nowhere to be seen.

JiniHaniJihani has marked that Dennis is alive.
JiniHaniJihani has marked that Dennis is alive.

That signal was aimed at AkashaPhilban. Ji-han’s map-reading wasn’t lousy—Nasarun needs careful aim control when swinging his blade, so it’s possible the fleeting blip of Dennis could be missed.

The melee super-armor item’s duration was three seconds. Ji-han saw the translucent shield vanish the instant the effect ended, and he dove onto Catherine.

True to the pervert-build stereotype, Catherine had slotted a nasty little healing kit that rapidly restored a small amount of HP—normally a dealer’s choice—so her health was almost full again. Ji-han considered whether to pop his ultimate after stacking a few autos, then checked the minimap and shook his head.

It was a total clusterfuck over there.

Nasarun had stuck Catherine to the wall with basic attacks but hadn’t used his knockdown. Rather than risk letting Catherine get an instant-rise counter by using an overly eager instant-rise device, he preferred to secure the kill slowly and surely. If this guy was really master tier, then the Catherine he’d seen in Plat matches before wasn’t comparable—this felt like top-tier play. The true high-tier flavor.

Urrrgh—

Amid the crisp sounds of impacts came that filthy groan. Normally Ji-han would flick his aim and leave the engagement range right away, but he continued his attack cycle without interruption. Even if Catherine might be master-tier, Dennis, that bastard, was clearly a local Plat player.

And typically, high-tier supports don’t miss an enemy who drops into a fight like this while a melee is soloing them.

A dark ground-effect appeared beneath Nasarun’s feet. Predicting Dennis’s unusually early arrival due to extreme attack-speed gearing, a circle planted earlier sprouted vines 0.5 seconds later, snaring for two seconds while dealing DOT and applying a bind.

If the timing had been slightly off, the ground effect might have expired before Dennis arrived, but AkashaPhilban’s calculations were flawless.

The vine bound Dennis’s ankles and the DOT’s stagger threw him off. Ji-han spun his aim, and AkashaPhilban immediately bound Catherine so that, once she was freed from Nasarun’s auto-attack stuns, she couldn’t escape—yet remained standing so as not to ruin the timing for Nasarun’s next combo.

Ji-han sidestepped his auto so it grazed beside Dennis, then used Q to shove Dennis toward Catherine.

Catherine, whose bleed stacks had already piled up heavily, died first; shortly after, Dennis fell in line on the kill feed.

JiniHaniJihani has slain an enemy.
JiniHaniJihani has slain an enemy.

Double kill!

After the kills, Ji-han found himself alone. AkashaPhilban moved upward to support the front line when he saw Ji-han overlap-stab Dennis and Catherine.

As Ji-han’s kill notifications landed, both Inegro’s and Gaien’s ultimates triggered simultaneously. With the priority targets down, they planned to corral and finish off the remaining enemies.

A dark circle like a slice of the cosmos unfolded, and three of the enemy team wandered inside, confused and disoriented. Inegro alone seemed capable of finishing the remaining ADC, so Ji-han turned to harass the troublesome support.

By the time the support went down, the match was over. With a one-minute respawn, the team could have swept into the enemy base easily—so they surrendered. Wise call.

WIN!

JiniHaniJihani (Nasarun) / 12 kills 2 deaths 9 assists / Damage dealt 109.2k / Damage taken 14.4k / Praises 2 / MVP

[All] Halmikkot (Catherine): What the hell are Nasarun and Chaplin? What’s your main?
[All] Halmikkot (Catherine): Don’t call it an alt—just tell me the nick because I’m curious
[Team] Class1Grade4 (Bark): Good work everyone—be sure Nasarun and Chaplin patch things up..
[Team] ChouxCreamLatte (Inegro): Sorry, I felt like I just rode a bus (i.e., got carried)..

Ignoring the chattering messages, Ji-han exited the game.

He had the feeling it’d been one of the first genuinely fun matches since being booted to an alt account.

His anger at AkashaPhilban had been greatly diluted by that final touch of skill.

AM 3:41.

Ji-han checked the time and quit the game.

Stopped at a traffic signal, Ji-han sighed as he checked the navigation’s remaining time. He’d been waiting at the left-turn signal for the fourth cycle. Irritably about to scratch at his hair, his hand hovered for a moment before returning to the wheel. He’d styled his hair with wax and didn’t want to ruin it—such petty concerns.

Traffic in Seoul was a nightmare. It wasn’t rush hour; it was just a weekday afternoon, and yet it offered no mercy.

No wonder his manager, Taehyun, had volunteered to drive him. Still, it felt lame to make an older guy living in Gangseo-gu drive all the way to pick up a twenty-four-year-old—he wasn’t a child.

Ji-han mumbled that managers had to do that sort of thing, but he found it mildly bothersome and inconvenient rather than apologetic.

BANG!

“Ah! What the hell, seriously?”

The traffic light had just changed; the car behind him honked to hurry him along. The sharp, shrill sound was jarring to Ji-han’s sensitive ears.

“If you’re in such a rush, you should’ve left yesterday. Go fly away or something.”

He stuck up his middle finger into the rearview and hoped the driver behind would understand the elegant gesture.

Though his brow was deeply furrowed, the veins in his hand didn’t bulge at all as he turned the wheel. The parking barrier at the broadcaster recognized his license plate and obediently lifted.

He smoothed his shirt and walked into the studio with an elegant gait. After checking in, someone approached him.

“Mr. Seo Ji-han, the pianist—right?”

A thin, bespectacled man in his twenties. Reflexively, Ji-han gave a soft smile and turned, but his gaze made the other guy introduce himself first.

“Oh! I didn’t introduce myself—nice to meet you. I’m Lee Seung-jae from SBC Variety’s ‘Say What’ team. I’m the assistant writer on this episode.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Seo Ji-han. You didn’t have to come down—this was inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient at all! Uh, did you come alone?”

The writer pressed the elevator call. He’d been glancing behind Ji-han as if looking for someone accompanying him.

Ji-han winked deliberately with one eye and placed a finger to his lips as if sharing a secret.

“My manager’s busier than I am lately. If I come alone, is that a problem?”

He didn’t consider that the gesture might be judged as gross or that someone might mock his wink. He knew from experience that his face usually worked in his favor.

The writer blinked like someone caught off-guard, awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, then said, “No, not at all… it’s just that solo guests are rare.”

“I trust your writers to take good care of things.”

“Uh… yes! Elevator’s here. Let’s go!”

Seung-jae, pushing the button for the fifth floor, at last noticed the coffee carrier in Ji-han’s hand.

“Oh… hey, let me take that.”
“No? It’s okay. It’s not heavy. I don’t have any other baggage.”

Ji-han pointed lightly at the stack of documents the writer was carrying. When he curled up one corner of his mouth in a small smile, the little dimple at the edge of his cheek caught the writer’s attention even more.

The writer nearly clapped but managed to restrain himself. He respected Ji-han’s musical achievements, though he’d never been the type to sit down and watch a piano video. Whenever Seo Ji-han’s pictures popped up online, the writer used to think, “Who in Korea looks like that? Too prototypically pretty; maybe it’s heavy Photoshop.” Seeing his face in moving footage for the coffee ad had convinced him the man existed and actually looked better in motion than in stills. Still, he’d thought him excessively delicate-looking, the kind that only clueless girls would gush over.

When he discovered Ji-han would appear on his program and that he’d be the one responsible, the writer inwardly thought, Damn. Celebrities get arrogant if they blow up—even a world-recognized pianist who’s popular with women might have an attitude.

But the real Ji-han was taller, less waif-like, and his face was far more three-dimensional and attractive than in photos or videos. Above all, his personality was fantastic.

Here he was, alone, carrying coffee and offering to help the writer with his stack of documents without complaint—while saying he didn’t mind that the writer took the load. In a broadcasting world where assistant writers are often treated like errand boys, this simple act of helping made Ji-han seem almost saintly.

An angel?

The assistant writer, who’d been up to his eyeballs in last week’s shoot with a lunatic celebrity, felt his lingering irritation melt away like thawing snow.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”
“No!”

—Fifth floor. Doors opening.—

“Shall we go?”

The man, who’d been drooping like withered lettuce, suddenly perked up like he’d been struck by lightning. Ji-han’s soft hazel eyes dimmed to black the moment the writer led the way.

What the hell was with that? He found it annoyingly tedious.