The room vibrated with noise.
Hundreds of fingers hammered keys like machine-gun fire. The rapid clicking of mice layered over the heavy bass of the speakers, creating a strange rhythmic half music, half battle.
On the big projection screen above the stage, two Protoss armies glowed in brilliant gold and violet.
Psi storms ripped across the battlefield like electric hurricanes.
Archons collided in bursts of blue light.
Observers drifted silently between armies like ghosts.
The crowd roared every time a new engagement exploded across the map.
Twenty minutes had already passed.
And neither player had given an inch.
Min leaned forward in his chair, eyes locked on the screen. His hands moved with frightening precision, clicking, snapping commands, shifting armies in perfect arcs.
Across from him sat Seo Han-Ryeong.
The man known as Electric Hands.
And tonight, he was living up to the name.
Units warped in at impossible timings. Storms landed with surgical precision. Entire squadrons vanished in seconds.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Neither army surviving long enough to breathe.
Behind the players, the audience buzzed with disbelief.
"This match is crazy," one bystander said, gripping his drink tightly.
"It's so good! I don't even know who to root for!" another shouted.
Chan-Sik folded his arms, eyes glued to the screen.
"I don't know how Min feels," he muttered, shaking his head slowly.
"But this game… this game is music."
MC ORCA leaned closer to the screen, eyebrows raised.
"I can't believe Red Pulse has players that can play like this."
Chan-Sik didn't answer immediately.
His gaze drifted toward Han-Ryeong.
Then back to Min.
"Don't forget," Chan-Sik said quietly.
"Han-Ryeong was the one who got his brother killed."
MC ORCA's expression darkened.
"…Right."
On screen, the final engagement began.
A massive clash of Protoss forces.
Storms flashed like lightning across the battlefield.
Dragoon fire lit the terrain in streaks of blue plasma.
Min blinked twice.
His army split into three perfect formations.
Two flanks.
One center push.
Han-Ryeong hesitated.
For half a second.
That was all Min needed.
The counterattack crushed through the center like a tidal wave.
Han-Ryeong's last Archon shattered into shards of light.
The screen flashed.
VICTORY — MIN
The crowd exploded.
Chairs scraped the floor as people jumped to their feet.
"WHAT A GAME!"
"NO WAY!"
"THAT SPLIT WAS INSANE!"
Chan-Sik exhaled slowly.
"That's one."
Behind them, Ha-Eun stood quietly.
Her eyes weren't on the screen.
They were somewhere else.
Watching something no one else could see.
"Something is about to happen," she said softly.
Chan-Sik glanced at her.
"What do you mean?"
Ha-Eun didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling lights.
Then the walls.
Then toward the back of the room.
"I'm not sure," she said finally.
"…Just a feeling."
MC ORCA nudged Chan-Sik with his elbow.
"She's kind of weird."
Chan-Sik just nodded.
Game 2
The match restarted.
Again, Protoss vs Protoss.
This time Han-Ryeong played aggressively.
Warp gates flared to life early.
Units streamed across the map in a tight formation.
Min countered immediately, splitting dragoons, dropping storms perfectly.
The armies collided near the center ridge.
Storms exploded.
Units vanished in seconds.
The crowd screamed.
Min had the advantage.
His army was larger.
Better positioned.
He moved forward for the finishing blow
Then it happened.
A pulse.
Barely visible.
The screen flickered.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Min's mouse stopped responding.
0.2 seconds.
To anyone else, it would have been invisible.
But to someone like Min…
It felt like time itself had stumbled.
His units hesitated.
Han-Ryeong's storm landed.
A perfect one.
Min's entire front line evaporated.
The crowd erupted.
Han-Ryeong pushed forward mercilessly.
Min tried to stabilize.
But it was too late.
The screen flashed again.
VICTORY — HAN-RYEONG
The room shook with cheers.
"OH MY GOD!"
"WHAT A COMEBACK!"
Min didn't celebrate.
Didn't react.
He just stared at the screen.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Game 3
The third match began.
And this time both players unleashed everything.
New strategies.
Strange build orders.
Warp-ins from impossible angles.
Observers hunted each other across the map.
Storms landed on armies that hadn't even appeared yet.
Even the commentators struggled to keep up.
"I've never seen plays like this!"
"Where are they pulling these strats from?!"
Min moved flawlessly.
Han-Ryeong answered every move.
The match spiraled into chaos.
Storms.
Archons.
Explosions across the entire map.
Min was winning again.
Slowly.
Patiently.
His army pushed into Han-Ryeong's natural base.
Just one more engagement.
Just one more…
The pulse returned.
A strange shimmer across the screen.
Min's interface lagged.
A fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
Han-Ryeong's storms landed perfectly.
Min's army vanished.
Just like that.
The screen went dark.
VICTORY — HAN-RYEONG
The crowd roared louder than ever.
Red Pulse supporters were on their feet now.
Shouting.
Laughing.
The momentum had shifted.
Min slowly raised his hand.
"I need a time-out."
The score was now 2–1.
Min removed his headset slowly.
"I need a time-out." he said a little bit more loudly
The words cut through the noise.
The announcer blinked.
"A time-out? You don't get time-outs here!"
The crowd immediately erupted in boos.
Han-Ryeong leaned back in his chair with a crooked grin.
"You scared?" he said.
Min stared at him coldly.
"You're about to end up like your brother if you don't get back into the game."
A Red Pulse member shouted from the crowd.
"Get back into the game!"
Another voice followed.
"Yeah! Don't be a pathetic loser like your brother!"
Across the room, Soo-Yeon watched silently.
Her expression didn't change.
Han-Ryeong laughed.
"Don't be a baby bitch."
Min suddenly slammed his hands on the desk and stood.
The sound echoed through the hall.
"Give me five minutes," he shouted, voice cutting through the room like a blade, "and I'll come back and make you wish you were never born."
Silence fell.
Hundreds of people stared.
Then laughter erupted from the Red Pulse side.
The announcer scratched his head, glancing at the restless crowd.
"…Alright. Fine."
He raised the microphone.
"Five minutes!"
The music returned.
People rushed for drinks.
The noise of the room softened into excited chatter.
Min stood up from his chair and walked back toward his group.
Chan-Sik spoke first.
"What's going on?"
Min rubbed the back of his neck.
"…I think he's cheating."
MC ORCA blinked.
"What?"
"My screen keeps tearing," Min said quietly.
"Small pulses. Tiny delays."
Chan-Sik frowned.
"That's impossible."
"Maybe," Min said.
"But I can feel it."
Silence fell between them.
Then slowly…
Both Chan-Sik and MC ORCA turned their heads.
And looked at Ha-Eun.
She stared back at them.
Completely calm.
"What?" she asked.
The room lights flickered once.
Just once.
And somewhere far in the building…
Something hummed.
Quiet.
Mechanical.
Alive.