Chapter 33: Feedback

“Therefore, I’d like you to take on the role of the in-game leader. Would that be possible?”

After a team practice session, the coach pulled me aside and made this proposal.

Saying that I hadn’t expected this would be a lie.

The role of a leader to guide the team is essential in team-based games, and the last practice had clearly shown that no one was suitable for the position.

Given that, it was only natural for the coach, after reviewing the practice footage, to deem me the most qualified.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else in the team who can take on the in-game leader role but you, Molru. At first, I thought it might be too demanding to handle both the leader and main damage dealer roles, but after watching your sniper gameplay, I changed my mind.”

“What if the sniper gets banned?”

“I think it’s almost guaranteed to be banned… It would probably be difficult to give orders while playing as a swordsman or another damage dealer, right?”

“Well, I guess we won’t know until we try.”

The leader role, huh?

It wasn’t impossible.

There was a time when I aspired to become a pro and prided myself on reaching at least the amateur level.

I had experienced various stages—from being a hopeful prospect, a rookie making a name for themselves, to an ex-trainee who quit the pro scene to pursue streaming.

While everyone has now gone their separate ways, there was a time when we worked together as a team, striving toward a shared goal.

I wasn’t the main in-game leader back then, but I had learned a lot from observing and being part of those dynamics.

Even if you weren’t the leader, briefing was a fundamental skill if you aimed to go pro.

Still, there were two main reasons I refrained from stepping up in the last practice session.

First, I wanted to observe my teammates’ skills and playstyles for at least one game.

Second, I felt a certain hesitation about speaking too much.

It wasn’t a physical issue like a dry mouth or a sore throat—it was more psychological.

I tend to avoid speaking unnecessarily.

Honestly, I’m still not fully accustomed to my own voice.

Objectively speaking, I know my voice is considered pleasant—something people describe as sweet or beautiful.

But I can’t shake the subtle discomfort about whether it truly feels like “my” voice.

Sometimes, even I get startled when I hear myself.

…It’s another hurdle I’ll have to overcome.

Taking on the in-game leader role would mean constantly talking during matches.

I’d need to guide my teammates toward performing at their best.

“Phew.”

I let out a small sigh to clear my head.

In a way, this was a good thing.

This could be my chance to overcome this lingering issue.

I’ve already overcome my struggles with going outside—there’s no reason I can’t handle this too.

“I’ll do it. I’ll be the in-game leader.”

The coach visibly brightened with joy.

I could feel the weight of their boundless trust settling on my shoulders.

Well, I have to be worth the 650 points spent on me.

The coach had used most of their draft points to bring me on board.

With that resolved, another concern popped into my mind.

Will the team members actually listen to me?

I wasn’t planning to just give commands; I also intended to fulfill the role of team leader, helping improve my teammates’ skills where they fell short.

In a way, it wasn’t too different from being a coach.

The coach can’t take care of all five players simultaneously, after all.

A sudden flashback to the nightmare of group projects hit me.

Those memories only deepened my misanthropy.

Hopefully, my teammates won’t be like that.

All I can do is pray they’ll cooperate.

“And so, Molru will be taking on the roles of team leader and in-game leader. Let’s give a round of applause!”

Cheers erupted as the announcement was made.

The next day, we gathered for team practice and to hear this major update from the coach.

When the team gathered and heard the announcement, they could have been flustered, but everyone took it in stride.

Is it because I’m the highest-ranked player?

“Alright, let’s start practice for today. We couldn’t set up a scrim, so instead, we’ll queue for some team rank games as a substitute.”

“Got it~!”

“Let’s go, let’s go~”

Team rank games differ from regular ranked games, which limit the number of players to two. Instead, these allow for a full team of five. Although less structured than scrims and with weaker opponents, this was appropriate for our current skill level.

Following the coach’s direction, the team assembled in the team rank lobby.

Despite the crushing defeat last time, the mood wasn’t bad.

Team morale is a critical factor.

Still, this cheerful atmosphere won’t last for long.

Clearing my throat and steeling myself, I opened my mouth.

“I have something to say.”

“Ah, yes, Molru.”

Since this was necessary, I skipped my usual polite preface like “Would it be alright?”

The murmuring quickly subsided as the room fell silent when I hesitated.

I hadn’t meant to create such a somber mood.

I briefly recalled a joke from the internet about introverts instantly killing the vibe just by speaking, but I shook it off.

That wasn’t the issue right now.

“Please look at the Discord screen for a moment.”

I clicked my mouse to share my screen using Discord’s screen-sharing feature.

What appeared was a presentation I had hastily prepared with the editor’s help after my conversation with the coach yesterday.

“…What is this?”

Amid confused murmurs, the coach was the first to speak, taking the lead.

Was this too sudden?

I looked at the material I’d pulled up.

It was a picture of Guus Hiddink, the legendary coach from the 2002 World Cup, letting out a triumphant roar.

This was a PPT I had spent a significant amount of time creating yesterday.

Feeling that I had sufficiently grabbed their attention, I moved to the next slide.

“Teamwork?”

A high-pitched voice echoed, filled with curiosity.

The screen displayed the word “Teamwork” in large letters, with another picture of Hiddink clapping earnestly.

“We’ll be using the Hiddink strategy.”

“The Hiddink strategy?”

One of Hiddink’s iconic methods during the 2002 World Cup was to have everyone speak informally, regardless of age or experience, during matches.

It was a strategy designed to enable faster and more direct communication in the chaos of the game.

I thought it was a great idea.

“From now on, we’ll all use informal speech during in-game briefings for smoother and more efficient communication.”

“Uh… I see what you mean, but…”

“Ahem.”

The coach trailed off, and Tex cleared his throat awkwardly.

At 34 and 29, respectively, both were older than me, a 23-year-old.

In our culturally Confucian society, this was no small ask.

However, the relatively casual environment of streaming seemed to make this more feasible.

They didn’t appear overly uncomfortable, but it was clear they were holding back, waiting for someone else to speak first.

Aside from the coach, who wouldn’t be directly speaking during matches, the eldest player was Lee Chulwoo.

At 35, one year older than the coach, he had been streaming since he was 25, making this his 10th year in the industry.

As the eldest and with his imposing build and rugged appearance, Chulwoo had a strong “big brother” image in the group.

There was even a meme among streamers: “If you mess with Chulwoo, you’ll end up in a barrel.”

This made other streamers cautious around him unless they were close.

But I wasn’t too worried.

Having occasionally watched his streams in the past, I had a good sense of his personality.

He actually preferred people who treated him casually.

“Oh, are you all watching me to gauge my reaction? I’m fine with it. Just do what’s comfortable.”

With Chulwoo’s lighthearted response, the rest of the team quickly agreed.

Clapping my hands, I broke the tension and shifted the mood back to one of enthusiasm.

“That’s it for announcements! Let’s play the game.”

“Molru, your personality seems a bit different lately…”

A quiet, feminine voice murmured this.

I couldn’t help but agree.

I admit I might have been forcing a bit of enthusiasm just now.

As the saying goes, the position shapes the person, and I was already feeling the weight of responsibility as the team leader.

It felt as though it was my duty to guide these people.

Perhaps the team members felt the same, as they began actively seeking my advice.

“Leader, what should I play?”

“Go with what you’re confident in, but not what you tried yesterday.”

“Uh, Molru, could you take a quick look at my screen? I’m debating between these two traits and can’t decide.”

After giving thoughtful answers, the game began.

As my teammates awkwardly took their positions, I quickly gave orders.

“Chulwoo, raise your shield and pull back slightly if it’s about to break, but call it out when you do. Ryua, don’t leave Chulwoo’s side. Papi, focus on overall team care. Tex, stay with me to pressure the front line, and if you see an opening, flank around.”

“Ah, yes. I mean, uh, okay.”

“Got it.”

The opposing team’s rank wasn’t very high.

They were a step below the Panoro team we scrimmed against before.

Their highest rank was Master, and their lowest was Silver.

Skill-wise, they seemed roughly on par with our team.

To ensure my teammates could grow, I intentionally held back, performing just adequately.

It felt like I was contributing exactly my share, no more, no less.

Following my orders, my teammates played steadily.

The game progressed without major issues—we exchanged kills and blows evenly with the enemy team.

However, we lost in the end.

It wasn’t a crushing defeat like last time, but after a close match, momentum shifted, and the game slipped away.

What caused the loss?

There wasn’t much to analyze.

It came down to a difference in individual skill levels.

Lack of experience and bad habits held us back.

But there was room for improvement.

I quickly jotted down notes on my teammates’ issues from the match in a memo while opening my mouth to speak.

“Alright, feedback time. Let’s go through this one by one.”

I decided to start with the person who seemed to have the most glaring issues.

“Tex.”

“…Yes? Did you call me?”

Tex’s voice sounded deflated, a stark contrast to the earlier high-energy mood.

He seemed to feel responsible for the loss and had shrunk back.

“Look at me for a moment.”

Are you really as good at fighting as you think you are?

“Follow me to the duel arena.”