Manager Bang Jin-ho had a drinking party with the coaches for the first time in a while and drank late into the night.

‘Drinks taste better without that guy around.’

He thought about Lee Shin, who had left right on time, saying he didn’t drink.

Since he was too drunk to drive, Manager Bang Jin-ho headed to the nearby first-team player dormitory.

He planned to sleep in one of the empty rooms there.

However, when he arrived at the dormitory, the living room was completely empty, making him tilt his head in curiosity.

‘Did they all go to sleep already?’

He checked the rooms one by one.

They were all empty—except for one, where every player had gathered.

“What are you all doing?”

Manager Bang Jin-ho asked.

“Manager, take a look at this.”

Park Shin pointed at the monitor, which everyone was staring at intently.

It was Space Craft.

“Who’s playing?”

“It’s Choi Young-jun’s personal stream.”

“Choi Young-jun? Who’s the opponent?”

“That guy. Player_SIN.”

“What?”

Now, Manager Bang Jin-ho was interested too. He joined the players in watching the game.

Since it was a personal stream, the game was being viewed from Choi Young-jun’s perspective.

The rapidly moving mouse cursor was visible on the screen, making it a valuable study session for the players.

“Ah, that unit count is insane.”

“How do you even stop that?”

“It’s happening, it’s happening.”

The players gasped in admiration.

Choi Young-jun had amassed an army of Fanatics and Colossi from fifteen Confessionals and was launching a massive attack.

‘That’s incredible.’

His ability to control such a massive force was not ordinary.

While his micro-control of individual units wasn’t the best, when it came to large-scale battles, no one could match him.

“Looks like Choi Young-jun is going to win.”

“We don’t know that yet, Manager.”

“What do you mean?”

“That Player_SIN has already beaten him twice.”

“What?!”

Manager Bang Jin-ho was shocked.

Choi Young-jun was the player that every domestic pro team was struggling to counter.

Other than Park Young-ho and the ‘Heretic’ Hwang Byeong-cheol, there wasn’t really anyone who could stand against him.

The MBS team, having lost their ace Shin Ji-ho, was struggling even more.

And yet, someone had beaten Choi Young-jun twice in a row?

“Want to check the chat? The internet is going crazy right now.”

“People are saying Player_SIN might be Lee Shin. Could it really be Coach Lee Shin?”

“They said his wrist hasn’t recovered enough yet…”

But Manager Bang Jin-ho had his suspicions.

Even though Lee Shin took it easy at the practice room, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was clicking his mouse at lightning speed at home.

Choi Young-jun’s massive army finally reached Player_SIN’s 7 o’clock expansion base.

The 7 o’clock base was heavily fortified.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The Mobile Turrets switched to bombardment mode and shredded any incoming enemies.

In response, Choi Young-jun loaded eight Fanatics onto two Transporters and dropped them directly on top of the Mobile Turrets. The Fanatics lunged at the turrets, slashing wildly with their blades.

Player_SIN’s response was just as swift.

The High-Speed Tanks focused fire on the Fanatics, protecting the Mobile Turrets.

Meanwhile, Armored Infantry with excellent anti-air capabilities shot down both of Choi Young-jun’s retreating Transporters.

The High-Speed Tanks surged forward and planted mines.

Then, they quickly maneuvered around the battlefield, circling behind enemy lines and planting more mines.

Because of the mine placements, Choi Young-jun’s reinforcements were delayed.

Despite his relentless attacks, Player_SIN was holding out.

“Yeah! He’s slowing him down!”

Watching the fierce battle, Manager Bang Jin-ho shouted excitedly.

Noticing the confused expressions on the first-team players, he explained,

“To stop Choi Young-jun’s mass production, you don’t fight his army head-on. You have to slow him down. Look—mines at key chokepoints, Transporters getting shot down—everything is delaying his movement.”

Only then did the players begin to understand.

The terrifying aspect of Choi Young-jun’s strategy was the rapid cycle of production and combat.

Because his production-to-battle cycle was so fast, no matter how many units he lost, he could always replace them and eventually overwhelm his opponent.

But Player_SIN had identified an extra step within that cycle—and was exploiting it.

Production - Movement - Combat.

The time it takes for produced units to reach the battlefield.

By persistently delaying that movement time, Player_SIN was disrupting Choi Young-jun’s cycle.

‘What a terrifying guy. Are they seriously saying this bastard isn’t Lee Shin?’

Both in skill and attitude, he was the spitting image of Lee Shin.

‘But then again, looking closely, it doesn’t entirely feel like Lee Shin’s style either.’

While defending against a massive offensive, Player_SIN was gradually expanding his bases.

That kind of expansion-focused strategy wasn’t Lee Shin’s style.

If it were Lee Shin, instead of growing his forces, he would have relentlessly harassed his opponent, crippling their resource supply.

Unceasing, nerve-wracking harassment—so intense it felt like one’s stomach would burst—that was Lee Shin’s trademark style.

He never focused on growth-oriented gameplay like Player_SIN.

‘But the way those High-Speed Tanks move… that’s just like Lee Shin.’

Manager Bang Jin-ho felt his confusion deepen.

The battle was coming to an end.

“Whoa!”

“Summoning succeeded!”

Though he had a massive army, Choi Young-jun was being disrupted in ground maneuvers. His choice? ‘Avatar.’

Avatar, a unit based on the concept of a divine incarnation, possessed two abilities: ‘Summon,’ which called distant units to its location, and ‘Seal,’ which immobilized enemy units for a set period.

Moreover, its very presence cloaked surrounding allied units from sight, making it a crucial component in the late-game strategy of the God Race.

One Avatar had successfully infiltrated deep into Player_SIN’s main base and summoned reinforcements.

Due to strong anti-air defenses, three Avatars had been sent in, and one had survived long enough to complete the summon.

From that moment, the balance of power began to crumble.

Though Player_SIN impressively remained calm while dealing with the summoned enemy units in his base, he could not withstand Choi Young-jun’s subsequent waves of attacks.

No matter how many he stopped, the units kept coming.

Choi Young-jun’s madness had finally erupted.

“That’s a win.”

“Yeah, this is it!”

“Once Choi Young-jun gets into this mode, I’ve never seen him lose.”

“His opponent is doing an insane job holding out, but if even this can’t stop him, what hope does humanity have?”

The players were excited.

Watching from Choi Young-jun’s point of view, they witnessed firsthand the madness-fueled play of the Mad God Tribe.

They could see exactly where he was looking and how his mouse cursor moved—every moment vividly displayed.

As victory drew near for Choi Young-jun, Manager Bang Jin-ho murmured softly,

“He crushed him with pure mechanics.”

For a professional gamer, ‘mechanics’ referred to the ability to perform high-input commands flawlessly.

Maintaining that level of focus for long periods required immense stamina, which was why physical training was an essential part of a pro team’s regimen.

It was a bitter truth, but peak mechanics were at their strongest in youth. Most players began to decline in their mid-to-late twenties, and championship winners were typically in their late teens or early twenties.

“That’s just unfair.”

Choi Young-jun’s true strength.

Watching his late-game mechanics, which neither skill nor strategy could overcome, Manager Bang Jin-ho muttered wistfully.

How wonderful it would be if even that could be overcome through sheer effort?

Choi Young-jun’s personal stream had also caught the attention of the media.

eSports news portals often used pro gamers’ personal streams as article material whenever they lacked fresh stories.

In that sense, the battle from last night’s stream—between Choi Young-jun and the mysterious online master—had become a massive sensation.

[An Online Master Who Defeated Choi Young-jun?]

[Mysterious Online Master Beats Choi Young-jun 2-1!]

[Who is Player_SIN?]

[The Hottest Topic: Choi Young-jun’s Personal Stream]

[The Online Master Every Pro Team Wants to Recruit]

[Netizens Speculate: “Could Player_SIN Actually Be Lee Shin?”]

[Choi Young-jun on Losing to the Online Master: “It Was a Good Experience.”]

A strong suspicion arose that Player_SIN might be Lee Shin’s alternate account.

His unit control that toyed with Choi Young-jun.

His effortless spending of thirty thousand star candies.

His uniquely concise speech, stripped of all unnecessary words.

Looking at these three factors, there was no doubt—he had to be Lee Shin.

However, the counterarguments were just as strong.

If he was that skilled, why would he waste time coaching instead of making a comeback as a player?

Moreover, his expansion-focused, long-term management style was completely different from Lee Shin’s signature aggressive harassment gameplay, making most people skeptical of the theory.

“You’re here.”

9 a.m.

As Lee Shin arrived at work, Manager Bang Jin-ho greeted him casually.

The players in the practice room were dying to ask him questions, but they held back.

They already found it difficult to approach him on a normal day, and today, he looked particularly irritable.

“Not even gonna say hello, you little shit?”

“……Good morning.”

“What, are you in a bad mood because you lost to Choi Young-jun yesterday?”

“That again? That wasn’t me.”

“Then why do you look so grumpy?”

“Reporters have been bothering me since morning, asking if I’m Player_SIN or whatever. Doesn’t this damn broadcasting station hire security?”

“A station kicking out reporters? Are you insane?”

“Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue, Lee Shin sat down.

Glancing to the side, he noticed Judy hesitating, unsure whether to greet him or not, as she carefully observed his mood.

“Uh, hello.”

Judy greeted him cautiously.

Lee Shin gave a small nod.

“Get ready for practice. Today, we’ll train against the God Race.”

“Yes.”

Lee Shin called over three God Race trainee players to play against Judy.

For the trainees, it was a great opportunity to receive feedback from Lee Shin after each game, so they eagerly agreed. Plus, helping out with practice meant extra pocket money.

As practice began, Lee Shin leaned deep into his chair and, as if finding it all a bother, began directing Judy purely through words.

Like a puppet under his control, Judy followed his instructions exactly.

He had her execute a standard one-barracks double expansion strategy, yet his mind wandered elsewhere.

‘Mechanics, huh…’

It had been a long time since he last felt his own limits.

Control, multitasking, strategy, decision-making, mechanics!

There was a time when he had been the absolute best in every category.

Regardless of the map or the opponent, he could always find a way to win—a flawless skillset.

A time when he had no weaknesses, when winning every championship without a single loss was inevitable.

He had never realized it himself, but apparently, people called that his ‘prime.’

And now, he was beginning to recognize that it was slipping away.

‘Am I getting old?’

The thought soured his mood even further.

Lee Shin was 25 years old this year.

“Uh, Coach?”

Judy called out in confusion after receiving no orders for a while.

“Just keep going as you’ve been. You don’t need me to tell you the little things anymore.”

“Understood.”

Watching Judy skillfully operate her keyboard and mouse, Lee Shin suddenly asked,

“How old are you again?”

“Nineteen.”

“So young. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

He spoke like an old man, exhaustion weighing heavily on his voice.

Manager Bang Jin-ho could only stare at him in disbelief.