Youth training camps starting off in a villa, away from the hustle and bustle—if this wasn’t good enough, hardly any team could hold a candle to it.
“Yeah, so let’s just keep climbing. Oh, right,” Little Ji added, “I forgot to mention: there’s a gym and a small canteen on the first floor. You can eat there or order takeout, but delivery guys have to drop it at the front desk, so you’ll need to pick it up yourself.”
“Got it,” Yun Qi said. “I’ve memorized everything.”
His attitude was solid—no trace of that superiority complex some Starting Roster drop-ins carried. Little Ji wasn’t hearing about him for the first time, either. The guy was huge online, and the esports circle was buzzing with rumors. He’d caught wind of it all, but the chatter from others never quite matched the person standing in front of him.
He didn’t seem like the ruthless type who’d claw his way up at any cost. Speculation about how he’d landed a Starting Roster spot on SK was all over the place, and his skills were still hotly debated. Little Ji didn’t know the full story, but going by first impressions, this guy didn’t strike him as some scheming mastermind.
If anything, he seemed more like a naive little bunny, fresh to the world.
Either he was too easy to fool, or the guy’s acting was Oscar-worthy. Either way, the vibes were good on a first meeting.
Little Ji gave Yun Qi a quick tour of the building, and the two of them headed back to the training room on the third floor.
Without a Trial Card, Yun Qi could only sit at his station and zone out. He glanced around at the pink walls, thinking about Little Ji’s explanation and the whole layered selection process. Inevitably, anxiety crept in.
Sure, he’d come down from the Starting Roster, but here, it was back to square one. He needed to level his mindset and face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Yun Qi booted up the computer. The soft pink, girly cherry blossom wallpaper was another part of the punishment—he wasn’t allowed to change it. He figured he’d log in and play a couple games to warm up, but the client wouldn’t launch. Thinking the PC was busted, he asked around and learned that without a Trial Card, the game was locked down.
Locked out, just like that.
Helpless, Yun Qi killed time with whatever else was there. His desk had some data sheets and logs left by the previous player—short notes about their trial training experience. Not much to it.
Killing time by poking around the computer, Yun Qi stumbled on something wild. He froze. There were a few pictures saved on it. No need to zoom in—he could tell at a glance they all featured Yu Jin. Yu Jin sipping water. Yu Jin leaning against a car. Yu Jin chatting with someone. Yu Jin lighting a smoke with his head down. One shot had a crowd in it, the manor’s swimming pool in the background. Yu Jin’s white tank top was soaked, clinging to his body—the whole image practically dripped with testosterone. But not a single one showed his face straight-on. They looked like candid shots, snapped on the sly.
Weird.
Why would anyone save pics like this on a computer? The last player? Or were they already there? Nah, that didn’t make sense. Sure, Yu Jin had a spot in the esports scene, but preloaded photos of him on a trial PC? That was next-level bizarre.
To sum it up, there was only one answer: these had been placed here personally. From the candid shot angles, they came from someone who had designs on Yu Jin—though it wasn’t clear yet if those intentions were good or bad.
Did he have an admirer?
But this place was full of men everywhere.
Did he have enemies?
That remained unknown for now.
The angles of these photos suggested otherwise, though.
Once Yun Qi was sure no one was paying attention to him, he clicked on one of them. Yu Jin looked even more mature now, his body more robust and developed. He had always kept up a workout routine, so aside from his tech fans in the scene, he had plenty who were in it for his looks.
That swimming pool shot, with him soaked to the skin, showed off his physique perfectly. This kind of photo had never circulated outside—it was purely an internal, private snap. Yun Qi had never seen it before. In front of the camera, Yu Jin always projected this aloof image, especially with that duckbill cap pulled low like he couldn’t be bothered with anyone. He didn’t pander to fans, didn’t run his socials, and with his terrifying follower count, he had no more than three posts. He came off as the epitome of abstinence, something unearthly.
But this pool photo was like a different person. He looked incredibly sexy, his body lines on full display with no hiding them. The white tee clung to his chest, his beautifully sculpted arms bent just so. His expression wasn’t friendly, but it carried this desire that leaped right off the screen—the runner-up only to that time years ago when he’d panted low against Yun Qi’s shoulder.
His ears burned hot, his expression wavering, utterly enraptured.
A flush crept up to his earlobes. Yun Qi quickly closed the image, his breathing thrown for a loop. He cupped his ears, bowed his head over the desk, and gently shut his eyes.
It was killing him.
Even though it had only been the slightest touch back then…
He’d absurdly memorized that look on Yu Jin’s face, his features, his breaths, his warmth.
Every time he thought back on it, he couldn’t hold out—like facing an insurmountable hurdle, surrendering his defenses to desire.
Yun Qi spent the entire afternoon in the Training Room, staring blankly at his computer.
It wasn’t until past six that a message came through on his phone.
Yu Jin was back.
He wanted Yun Qi to come downstairs.
Yun Qi headed down, where he found Yu Jin on a call. He looked busy, so Yun Qi didn’t dare interrupt and just stood by, waiting.
After a moment, Yu Jin popped open the trunk. Leaning against the car door, he told the person on the phone, “We’ll talk about coming back after the Challenge Tournament’s done. Everything else is off the table. No one’s taken your spot yet, but if you drag it out another couple days, someone will step in.”
Yun Qi hesitated. The trunk was open now; he stepped over and had just touched the luggage when a pair of hands reached past him, hefting the heavy suitcase out and heading toward the building.
Yu Jin kept talking on the phone as he walked inside, but Yun Qi stayed rooted in place. He agonized over how to broach it, then finally called out, “Eidis…”
Yu Jin paused and turned to stare at him, phone still at his ear, waiting for Yun Qi to speak.
Yun Qi shuffled closer, eyeing his own luggage in Yu Jin’s grip. He went for broke. “Can… can I live outside?”
A flicker of displeasure crossed Yu Jin’s face.
He took the phone away from his ear.
But Yun Qi couldn’t tell him the real reason. How could he? Admit he had Intimacy Starvation Syndrome? That late at night, he might show that side of himself? That he craved physical contact—and things even more intimate?
He couldn’t get the words out.
All he could do was cover with, “I’m not used to sharing space with someone. I’ve got a bit of a clean streak, so I was thinking I’d find my own place, and then…”
Before he could finish, Yu Jin grabbed the suitcase and went inside.
Seeing that reaction, Yun Qi knew he’d messed up. Asking something like that right after arriving was pretty tone-deaf.
But the words were out; no taking them back. Yun Qi fell silent and followed Yu Jin in.
He had to admit, this moment had him more on edge than the Grand Finals.
Yu Jin led him to a door, swiped his card to unlock it, and pushed it open. He set the luggage down, flicked on the light, and Yun Qi trailed after him.
Only once they were inside did Yun Qi realize this was a one-bedroom suite.
Sofa, bed, TV, laptop—the decor was stunning, like a high-end hotel. Insulated flask, tea set, laundry bin, slippers—everything was there. Even the bedding wasn’t the uniform style he’d seen in the other rooms today; it matched the room’s vibe in shades of gray-purple.
Yun Qi blanked out for a second.
Then he heard Yu Jin say, “Everything’s fully stocked. Toiletries are on the rack in the bathroom. Clean changes of clothes are in the closet, and spare daily essentials are in the storage cabinet. Help yourself.”
It was equipped down to the last detail.
No wonder he’d said there was nothing to bring when he left.
Yun Qi hesitated. “I’m staying here?”
Yu Jin asked, “Not satisfied?”
Yun Qi hurried to explain, “No, it’s just—the person showing me around today said I’d probably be in a shared suite, two to a room. Isn’t that right?”
Of course Yun Qi didn’t want to. Standing in this room, facing Yu Jin’s gaze, he couldn’t quite put a name to the emotion stirring inside him—but panic was definitely part of it. He shook his head lightly, genuinely puzzled by his situation. “So… am I a trial trainee?”
“Yes,” Yu Jin replied, “but not exactly.”
Yun Qi didn’t understand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man drawing closer.
Yu Jin stepped forward as he spoke. “You’re the starting roster player I shelled out thirty million for. You’ve got some competition experience under your belt, but here, you’re a blank slate. I want you starting from scratch, competing against the other trial trainees to reshape your image in the pro scene. In esports, strength is king. You’ve got one month—from B Block, fight your way into A Block. Can you do it?”
He saw Yun Qi as a blank slate, forcing a fresh start, and expected him to claim a starting roster spot in just one month amid all this competition—so little time. The standard elimination rounds lasted three months, yet he was giving Yun Qi only one.
It wasn’t a challenge; it was a question straight from the heart, a need to grasp his intentions. Yun Qi murmured softly, “Are… are you just making things hard for me?”
Yu Jin let out a chuckle.
Yun Qi hadn’t seen him smile like this in ages—not in front of him, anyway. It reminded him so much of the old days, and yet it didn’t, because this smile wasn’t genuine. It carried an undercurrent of threat.
“At market value, you’re worth maybe six million, tops. Would KRO want to play the sucker? Your contract is with me. Do you know what that means?” Yu Jin enunciated each word carefully. “It means I’m the one out twenty-four million. It means I’m the sucker. It means you don’t belong to KRO.”
Yun Qi met his eyes, staring into those fathomless depths. His mind flashed to that poolside photo, to the night they’d been intimate. Those dark urges stirred to life once more. Just gazing into Yu Jin’s eyes, he found himself craving the man’s touch, his kiss, his embrace—to be ravaged, penetrated. Terrifying desire crashed over him like a tidal wave. Yun Qi’s gaze turned impure, and right then, the other man lifted a hand to his cheek.
Yu Jin’s thumb pressed against Yun Qi’s cheekbone, his eyes dark and intense as he delivered that fatal coda: “You belong to me.”
“You’re under my thumb.”
