The two remained silent.
After a while, Ji-min kept her head lowered, avoiding Jin-ho’s gaze as she quietly walked toward the bathroom.
Feeling slightly guilty, Jin-ho chose to move away and give her space.
Inside, Ji-min crouched down and quickly gathered the clothes she had left in the laundry basket.
No words were exchanged.
Only silence and hurried movements.
A few moments later, she stepped out of his room.
Leaving Jin-ho alone once again.
He scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh.
“…Well, that was something.”
Muttering to himself, he sat back down on the edge of the bed and opened the system again.
The familiar screen appeared before him.
He stared at the long list of games.
Looking through them carefully, he could not help but think:
“Most of these games…
I barely even play.”
He immediately started eliminating the choices he had no interest in.
Farming Simulator 2022.
No reason other than he simply did not want to.
Too niche.
Too boring.
Next was League of Legends.
“Too rusty.”
His rank before enlistment had been decent, but nowhere near the level needed to compete seriously.
After narrowing down the list, only two options remained.
Street Fighter V.
Tekken 7.
Those were the only games he seriously considered.
Back then, Jin-ho loved fighting games.
He used to spend countless hours in arcades after school.
Not because he wanted to become a professional player, but because he genuinely enjoyed them.
Though if someone asked which game he preferred…
The answer was obvious.
Tekken 7.
And the reason was simple.
He was better at it.
When Tekken 7 first arrived in arcades, Jin-ho had been among the first group of players to touch the game.
He even skipped classes just to play.
His main character:
Jin Kazama.
A Mishima-style fighter.
Thinking back now, he had probably spent more time playing Tekken than studying.
Inside his school, he was one of the strongest players around.
At local arcades, people even considered him a top player.
But only there.
Tournaments was completely different worlds.
He had never stepped onto a real competitive stage.
Not because he was avoiding it.
He simply never took it seriously.
Lying back on the bed, Jin-ho suddenly remembered something.
The day his father unexpectedly showed up at the arcade.
Apparently someone had reported him for skipping class.
So his father had gone straight to the local arcade where Jin-ho usually spent his time.
Naturally, he got scolded.
Fortunately, his father never told his mother.
Because if she found out, she probably would have cut off his allowance immediately.
Even after that incident, he still skipped classes occasionally.
He just made sure his grades stayed barely above the failing line.
And sometimes…
He would shamelessly ask Ji-min to let him copy her assignments.
She always refused at first.
Only agreeing after he offered to buy her food.
Thinking back on it now, Jin-ho could not help but smile.
Then his expression gradually turned serious.
Professional player.
The thought no longer felt distant.
If he chose this path, he would have to tell his parents eventually.
After all, they were probably expecting him to attend university.
“If things don’t work out, I’ll just go back to school.”
He told himself that.
Even though deep down, he knew he had already made up his mind.
That thought was only there to comfort himself.
Jin-ho took a deep breath.
Then, with a single thought…
He made his choice.
[Tekken 7 selected.]
At the living room, Ji-min’s face was still slightly flushed.
She was visibly embarrassed by what had just happened.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but it did little to help.
Instead, she reached for the remote on the side table and turned on the television.
The room filled with sound.
She began switching channels—drama reruns, news broadcasts she had no interest in, variety shows that failed to catch her attention.
After a few presses, she paused.
A news segment caught her attention.
“HYBE’s new girl group NewJeans has been attracting attention with an unconventional debut strategy…”
She focused on the screen, listening carefully.
This group would likely cross paths with her in the future, whether through music shows or variety programs.
Footage and short clips of their performances appeared on screen.
Looking at their faces, she casually commented.
“They could’ve been from SM Entertainment with visuals like that.”
She exhaled softly.
Another strong group was entering the industry.
“HYBE must be investing a lot into them.”
She continued switching channels afterward—gossip programs, international news—but none of them held her interest.
At that moment, Jin-ho reappeared in the living room.
He had changed into a black hoodie, shorts, and slippers, now fully in casual homewear.
The two briefly looked at each other, both silently recalling what had just happened.
Neither of them spoke.
“When are you going back, Ji-min?” Jin-ho asked as he walked toward the sofa, preparing to sit.
“I’ll go back later tonight.
I don’t really want to leave yet,” she replied, still watching the television instead of him.
“I’m going out in a bit to buy some things,” he said, pausing as he sat down.
“My mom gave me some money for my discharge, and a bit extra.”
He glanced at her.
“Do you want eat something?
I can get it for you.”
Ji-min hesitated when she heard the question.
On one hand, she needed to maintain her weight due to her comeback.
On the other, it was hard to refuse free food.
Before she could answer, Jin-ho leaned back on the sofa, casually watching the television.
“…Sure.
Get me something.
You already know what I want,” she said finally, sounding decisive.
She would worry about burning it off later during practice.
“Then pork cutlet it is.
I’ll head out soon,” Jin-ho replied as he stood up.
He walked toward the kitchen, already thinking ahead about what else to buy—seasonings, condiments, and basic supplies.
But that was not his only goal.
He also planned to buy an arcade stick, a PC, and the equipment he would need for streaming.
Back in his room, sitting in silence, he began mentally listing everything.
“I’m going to end up buying a lot of things.”
He paused.
“Good thing my mom sent enough money.”
Still, he did not intend to spend everything at once.
He needed to calculate carefully.
No unnecessary spending.
He spent some time taking notes on his phone about what to buy.
Not too much and not too little, just the right amount.
Although the item he planned to buy the most was a pack of instant noodles.
He then walked back to his room, put on his jeans, and headed out.
“I’m heading out.
Watch the place, okay?” Jin-ho said to Ji-min, who was watching a drama rerun on the screen.
“Sure.
Just don’t take too long,” Ji-min replied, her eyes still fixed on the television.
After that, Jin-ho left the apartment and took the elevator down again.
Once he exited the building, he immediately looked for a taxi, since the mall and supermarket were quite far from where he lived.
It did not take long before he found one.
He got in and told the driver his destination.
As the taxi drove off, he leaned back and thought about what had happened after he chose Tekken 7.
Opening the system, he sees:
Name: Jin-ho
Passive Traits:
Fast Learner
Charismatic
Tekken 7 Status Panel:
Character Knowledge:
Jin Kazama: A-
Bryan Fury: B
Kazuya Mishima: B
Heihachi Mishima: B-
Character Knowledge
Measures Jin-ho’s overall understanding of a character.
This includes matchups, punishments, frame data, combos, strengths, weaknesses, habits, and practical application.
Character Knowledge can be obtained through real experience, practice, observation, and personal understanding.
It may also be granted as a reward by the system.
True mastery still depends on the user’s own skill, execution, and experience.
Quests for Tekken 7:
Win a Small Local tournament.
(Repeatable)
Rewards: 500 Points
Win a National Local tournament.
(Repeatable)
Rewards: 1,500 Points
Win an International tournament.
(Repeatable)
Rewards: 3,500 Points
Get a triple crown.
(Winning EVO Japan, EVO, and TWT)
Rewards: 15,000 Points
Make a name for yourself.
Rewards:
Points scales based on reputation growth
Side quests Tekken 7:
Win a Local tournament using a random character.
Rewards:
500 Points
Passive Trait: Adaptive Mastery
Win a International tournament using a random character.
Rewards:
5,000 Points
Passive Trait: Adaptive Intuition (Upgraded from Adaptive Mastery)
Win any tournament while cosplaying.
Rewards: Mental Pressure Resistance
Get 6 Perfects in a Row.
Rewards: ???
Get 9 Perfects in a Row.
Rewards: ???
Get 18 Perfects in a Row.
(Must be in Losers to count)
Rewards: ???
Point Shop: (Unlocked after completing the first time: Win a National Local tournament.
)
Jin-ho sighed to himself, still trying to process everything.
“I need to practice.
I want to get back to my best form and climb the ranks again,” he thought.
There was not much time before the local tournaments started.
While waiting to reach his destination, he searched for Tekken 7 videos on his phone, watching guides, gameplay footage, and tournament matches.
He wanted to measure how far he still was from his peak, and how much room he had left to improve.
The more he watched, the more he wanted to play again.
Something inside him slowly ignited, a mix of excitement and passion.
He took a deep breath, calming himself.
He could not rely on talent alone anymore.
If he wanted to become the best, he needed discipline, time, and effort.
He then began searching for players he would likely face in the future.
AO, Chikurin, Nobi among notable Japanese players.
Arslan Ash, Atif Butt, Khan among top Pakistani players.
Super Akouma, Anakin, AK, and many others from different regions.
Knee, Chanel, LowHigh, and countless strong Korean players.
Each with their own characters, styles, and strengths.
It was a steep mountain to climb, but he was not discouraged.
Instead, he smiled and searched for tournament dates.
August 5 – August 7, 2022 — EVO 2022
September 24–25, 2022 — Uprising Korea 2022
October 15–16, 2022 — AfreecaTV Tekken League 2022: Autumn Super Tournament
December 4, 2022 — Tekken World Tour 2022 Korea Regional Finals
December 10–11, 2022 — AfreecaTV Tekken League 2022 Grand Finals
He stared at the list for a moment, wondering if he could compete at that level.
Then he shook his head.
“I am not ready yet,” he thought.
EVO 2022 was clearly beyond his current level.
He needed more time.
“I guess Uprising Korea 2022 will be my first real test,” he thought.
Even that, he was not confident he could reach top 8 in such a short time.
And it was a national-level tournament.
If he wanted to unlock the Point Shop, he would have to win something like that.
“Let’s start small,” he decided.
For now, his goal was simple: small local tournaments, one step at a time.
He also added another stop to his plan for the day, his old local arcade, if it was still there.
The taxi arrived near the mall and supermarket, but instead of heading there, he walked in the opposite direction.
He wore a face mask as he walked.
Many people around him still did the same, even though the mandate had already been lifted.
After a few minutes, he reached a familiar building.
“ARCADE” was still glowing on the sign.
He felt relieved it had survived the pandemic.
He stepped inside.
The sound of button presses and fighting game effects filled the air.
Rows of arcade cabinets lined the space, each one occupied or waiting for players.
The shopkeeper noticed him almost immediately.
“Jin-ho?
Long time no see!” the shopkeeper said, walking over and patting him firmly on the shoulder.
His eyes quickly scanned Jin-ho’s appearance, noticing the change in his build.
“You got bigger.
What happened to you?”
“I just got discharged from the military today,” Jin-ho replied with a small smile.
The shopkeeper laughed in surprise.
Before long, a few familiar faces approached.
Regular players from the arcade who recognized him quickly gathered around.
They asked questions, laughed, and talked over each other, catching up on lost time as the arcade slowly filled with familiar noise again.
“I still want that rematch.
This time I’ll win,” someone said suddenly to Jin-ho.
Jin-ho smiled and looked at him.
“I can still beat you, even if I haven’t played in a long time.”
His tone was confident, not empty bravado.
The skill was still there, even if a bit rusty.
“Boss, give me some tokens.
I’ll put this guy back in his place again,” he added.
The crowd that overheard him reacted immediately, voices rising in surprise and excitement.
It had been a long time since someone spoke that boldly in their arcade.
His opponent did not back down.
If anything, it only made him more fired up.
Both of them walked toward the arcade cabinets and took their seats.
A small crowd gathered behind them, eager to watch the set.
The shopkeeper handed them tokens, and they inserted them into their respective machines.
The game booted up, bringing them to the character select screen.
Jin-ho did not choose immediately.
Instead, he warmed up his hands, testing the arcade stick.
He ran quick inputs, crouch dashes, backdashes, simple movement drills.
Trying to reacquaint himself with the feel of the game.
A small smile formed on his face.
He was back.
His opponent had already locked in his character.
“Are you stalling?
Or backing out?” the opponent said with a scoff.
Jin-ho ignored him and focused on the screen.
The opponent had chosen Lidia.
A character Jin-ho was unfamiliar with.
She was released while he was away from the game.
Without hesitation, Jin-ho locked in Jin Kazama, his main.
“Hopefully Jin didn’t change much,” he thought.
They moved to stage select and confirmed the match.
A brief silence fell over them as the game prepared to start.
“I’ll start with pokes first.
I don’t know the matchup,” Jin-ho thought, steadying his breathing.
The match began.
Both characters stood in neutral, only a few steps apart.
His opponent struck first, opening with a low attack that transitioned into stance pressure.
Jin-ho blocked, then answered with a downjab, interrupting the sequence.
He tried to create space with backdashes, but his movement was inconsistent.
The opponent closed the distance quickly and kept applying pressure.
Jin-ho was slowly being pushed back, unable to fully escape the momentum.
Soon after, he lost the first round.
He managed to land a few hits, but most of his attempts were shut down or checked.
The second round started better.
He adapted slightly, but the pressure did not stop.
His opponent continued to dictate the pace.
Jin-ho’s focus sharpened, though it wavered at times from the noise of the crowd behind him.
He searched for an opening, playing mostly defensively while studying patterns.
Then, in one moment, his opponent committed to a high attack.
Jin-ho ducked.
Punish.
He launched his opponent, and the crowd reacted instantly, impressed.
But in the rush of execution, he dropped the combo.
The momentum shifted back immediately.
His opponent regained control and closed out the round.
A cheer erupted for the winner.
“Is that what you meant by putting me in my place?” the opponent taunted.
Jin-ho did not respond.
He only stared at the screen, fully locked in now.
Without proper matchup knowledge, he could not force his usual playstyle.
Instead, he began observing carefully, reading habits, timing, and flow.
The fight continued, with Jin-ho still at a disadvantage.
He could fight back now, but only in small moments.
Still confused by his opponent’s stance transitions, he slowly got chipped away again.
Now in low health, Jin-ho activated Jin’s Rage Drive, forcing space between them.
Back in neutral, his opponent immediately ran in, then stopped suddenly, entered stance manually, and threw an unblockable high attack.
It landed cleanly.
The crowd erupted.
His opponent stood up from his chair, hyped, and joined the crowd’s reaction as if he had already won the match.
Jin-ho, however, was only briefly surprised.
He looked at his opponent celebrating like he had finished a war, even though it was just the first set.
Losing 0-3 stung a little, but he quickly forced himself to stay calm.
He started analyzing the match instead.
He remembered how he got poked down, how he was forced into combos, and how easily he got trapped by his opponent’s flowcharts.
In a short time, he had nearly downloaded everything about him.
“You just won the first set.
Don’t celebrate too early,” Jin-ho said.
His opponent scoffed but did not respond.
Instead, he turned to the crowd.
“Watch me 0-6 this guy!” he declared.
The arcade erupted again.
Jin-ho did not react.
He simply focused on the screen.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, gripping the arcade stick tighter, mentally replaying his basic punish routes and combos.
The second set began, same characters, different stage.
At first, nothing changed.
His opponent repeated the same pattern, low attack into stance pressure.
But this time, Jin-ho was ready.
He predicted the transition, blocked the initial low, and immediately punished with a launcher.
He knew stance characters could not block during certain transitions.
That fundamental alone gave him the opening.
The crowd reacted instantly.
This time, he did not drop the combo.
His execution stayed clean.
The opponent panicked, mashing buttons in case Jin-ho dropped the follow-up.
The combo carried to the wall, ending in a clean okizeme setup.
His opponent guessed correctly this time, choosing to stand instead of tech roll.
He blocked the follow-up and punished Jin-ho immediately.
But Jin-ho had already adapted.
He ducked the next approach and responded with a while standing launcher, catching his opponent again.
At this point, he had started to read him clearly.
The habits, the timing, the patterns, everything was becoming familiar.
He had effectively downloaded his opponent.
Soon after, Jin-ho took the first round.
The momentum had clearly shifted.
Even the crowd could feel it.
Jin-ho exhaled slightly, relief passing through him as he secured the round.
Now on offense, he began to apply pressure of his own.
The atmosphere in the arcade grew louder than ever.