CHAPTER THREE POINT ONE

The T1 training room buzzed with tension. The hum of overhead lights barely cut through the thick air of focus. Polished glass walls framed a sweeping view of the city, but inside, no one was looking. Each station was a battlefield—custom keyboards, high-end gaming setups, and the familiar glow of Summoner's Rift flickering on screens. The players sat in their chairs, backs molded into the cushions from countless hours of practice.

Anxiety rippled beneath the surface, despite the professional calm. They weren't just preparing for any match—they were preparing for Hanwha Life Esports (HLE), one of the league's strongest teams. And T1 was behind.

Lee "Faker" Sang Hyeok sat at the center of the room, his posture sharp, his fingers drumming softly on his keyboard. The pain in his injured arm throbbed with each tap, but he ignored it, his eyes glued to the monitor. "We're falling behind," he muttered, his voice tight. His gaze didn't waver as he scrolled through HLE's recent games, dissecting their strategies. "If we don't adapt to the meta, they'll crush us."

Ryu "Keria" Min Seok shifted in his seat, the usual light-hearted glint in his eyes replaced by worry. "It's not just that they're ahead. We've lost two days of practice because of those DDOS attacks." His voice dropped, tension coiling around his words. "We can't afford to lose another scrim block."

Across the table, Lee "Gumayusi" Min Hyung sighed quietly, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on his mouse. "Their bot lane synergy is insane. We have to be perfect. If we miss our timings, we're dead."

Moon "Oner" Hyeon Jun kept his gaze fixed on his screen, trying to drown out the conversation. The weight of the upcoming match pressed on his chest like a stone. As the team's jungler, his role required precision, but the meta shifts had thrown him off. And the DDOS attacks had disrupted their practice, leaving him scrambling to regain his edge. The timing felt cruel—his blade was dulling just as the most important fight of the season loomed ahead.

From the corner of the room, Choi "Zeus" Woo Ji leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed in frustration. "We can't mess up," he said flatly. "One mistake, and we're out of the playoffs."

His words landed like a hammer. The room, once filled with the comfortable camaraderie of practice, now felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode. Their legacy was on the line. T1 wasn't just a team—they were the team. Losing wasn't an option, but the constant disruptions, the missed scrims, and the looming threat of HLE were cracks threatening to break them.

Oner's thoughts swirled, but the sudden buzz of his phone snapped him back to reality. The vibration rattled against the desk, loud enough to pull him from his spiraling thoughts. The screen flashed with an unknown number.

"This is Moon Hyeon Jun," he answered, keeping his voice low.

The voice on the other end was clipped, formal. "Mr. Moon, we need you to come down to the station. We have more questions about the incident."

His stomach twisted. The heist.

The game faded from his mind as reality crashed in. The heist had been a dark cloud, lingering at the edges of his thoughts, a reminder of the chaos he couldn't quite escape.

"I'm in the middle of practice," Oner replied, his tone strained but steady. "I'll come by after we're done."

"Make sure it's soon," the officer said, the cold professionalism in his voice only adding to the weight Oner felt pressing on him. "We'll be waiting."

The call ended with a sharp click, leaving a hollow echo in Oner's mind. He stood still for a moment, phone in hand, feeling the pull between two worlds—the one on the screen in front of him and the one unraveling outside of it.

Faker, ever the leader, glanced over, his sharp gaze catching the tension in Oner's stance. "You good?"

Oner gave a quick nod, though the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. "The police need me to come in. More questions about the heist."

Gumayusi scoffed, the tension visible in the way his hand clenched his mouse. "Still? Man, that's gotta be a headache."

Keria's voice softened. "You sure you're okay? You can leave early if you need to."

Oner shook his head. "No. I'll finish. We're behind, and I need to lock down the jungle. If we're not perfect against HLE, we're screwed."

A soft knock interrupted them, and the door swung open. Kim "Kkoma" Jeong Gyun, their head coach, stepped in, followed by assistant coach Im "Tom" Jae Hyeun. Both wore expressions of deep concern.

"What's going on?" Kkoma asked, his sharp eyes zeroing in on Oner.

"The police called," Oner replied, squaring his shoulders. "They want me to come in for more questioning. I told them I'd go after practice."

Kkoma's frown deepened. "This is the worst possible time for distractions, Oner. We're behind, the meta's shifting, and HLE's not a team to underestimate."

"I know," Oner muttered, his jaw clenched. "But I'm fine. We finish this, then I'll handle it."

Tom glanced between them, his clipboard held tightly in his hand. "Is this still about that DDOS attack? Could it be connected to the heist?"

Oner's eyes darkened at the thought. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But right now, we need to focus on HLE. Their mid-game's brutal. If I'm not ready, we're done."

Faker nodded, his voice calm but commanding. "Then let's make sure we're ready."

The room shifted back into focus, the weight of the match pressing down on them as they returned to their screens. But for Oner, the pressure had doubled. The match against HLE wasn't just about victory—it was about survival. And with the investigation looming over him, the stakes had never felt higher.