He Is That Guy

Things between me and Kim Ui-chan hadn’t been like this from the start.
By chance, I’d gotten the opportunity to enter an offline tournament and met the team members I’d be playing with. Among them, the ranged DPS, Kim Ui-chan, was the one I clicked with the most.
We were the same age, and even our sense of humor lined up so well it was almost eerie. We became close fast. Ui-chan even told me outright that I was the teammate he felt most comfortable with.
Even though we lived over an hour apart by public transit, we met up often—close enough that we introduced each other as good friends without hesitation.
Our friendship, once so solid, started cracking when Ui-chan made his professional debut.
“I think I’m meeting with CXB team staff this weekend to talk about a contract… can you come with me? It’s my first time doing something like this, and I’m kind of scared.”
He’d asked that with an awkward laugh, careful and a little embarrassed. Of course, I said I’d go with him.
We had just graduated high school then—twenty years old. I could easily imagine how difficult and unfamiliar it must’ve felt to meet with a pro-team representative to discuss a contract. I didn’t want to send him off alone, either.
Thinking I might be of some help, I looked up whatever info I could find. Ui-chan was a bit sloppy about details, so I figured I should be the one to keep my head straight. It was his first real step toward becoming a professional player.
But once we actually met the team representative, things went in a direction I hadn’t expected.
“This one’s Mr. Kim Ui-chan’s contract, and this one’s Mr. Yu Ji-han’s.”
“Why mine? I’m not planning to go pro.”
“Pardon? But our original proposal was to sign both of you together. Hm, we explained everything to Mr. Kim in advance… he didn’t mention it?”
“……”
There had to be some misunderstanding. Turning toward Ui-chan beside me, I found him unable to meet my eyes, staring down instead. I was too stunned to speak.
In the end, the deal fell apart and fizzled out. When I stepped outside for a cigarette, Ui-chan came over to apologize.
“Sorry, Ji-han. It was such a good opportunity, I couldn’t turn it down. I thought maybe if we met together, the terms might change…”
“…Yeah.”
Did you use me for your contract? I was trying to help you sincerely—did you think my consideration was a joke? Did you drag me along lying through your teeth, thinking I’d feel pressured to sign anyway?
I swallowed all those words rising in my throat and just said flatly,
“Don’t do that again.”
He must’ve been desperate enough to lie. Either way, the contract didn’t go through, so he probably felt just as awful. He apologized, and I figured he wouldn’t pull that again.
I understood him and deliberately never brought the incident up again. Later, Ui-chan signed with another team and officially became a pro.
Ironically, maybe because I’d let it slide, his lying only escalated from there.
One time, he invited me out to hang—just the two of us, he said—and when I showed up, there was a woman I’d never seen before. Turned out it was a surprise blind date. I already had a girlfriend then, and he knew that.
“That noona begged me to meet her once. But honestly, she’s better than your current girlfriend, don’t you think?”

I later found out that woman was an esports reporter.
Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. But it kept happening—things like that, again and again.
After going through that several times, I just couldn’t trust him anymore. The lies themselves weren’t even the main problem—the trust between us was.
Once I realized that, I didn’t want him anywhere near me. That was why I cut off the four-year friendship. Ui-chan, who’d tried to cling on, left for China not long after, joining another team.
And now, a year later, sitting across from him and dredging up the past, all I felt was deep fatigue.
Arms folded, I stayed silent. Ui-chan, watching me, finally spoke first.
“You haven’t changed at all. Guess it makes sense—it’s only been a year.”
“Spare me the small talk. Get to the point.”
I didn’t feel a thing looking at him now. I didn’t even care why he’d lied.
What bothered me more was that Chae Yu-jeong was still waiting behind me.
“Don’t contact me again. Don’t show up like this. Sitting here looking at your face already makes me sick.”
“…I already apologized. I told you I won’t lie again. I seriously don’t get why you hate me this much.”
Unbelievable. I rubbed the edge of my eyebrow, my temple throbbing.
“I never asked for an apology. If you don’t get it, don’t bother. Just stop doing anything. Stop caring about me. Is that so hard?”
Ui-chan frowned.
“How could I do that? Could you? Honestly, I thought you’d reach out first during that year we weren’t talking. Didn’t you quit Hiore because of me?”
“What?”
“After our fight, I went straight to China, so we never had time to make up. I kept feeling bad about it… so around May, I asked Tae-young about you—how you were doing. He said you’d quit Hiore.”
What the hell is he talking about? As I stared, speechless, he kept going.
“I heard you quit because of me. How do you think that made me feel? I couldn’t even come back to Korea right away because of matches, and I had no way to reach you. I even asked Tae-young to pass a message, but he just told me to handle it myself.”
“Ha… why’s Tae-young even part of this? Cut the bullshit.”
“It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to talk. Anyway, I came straight to see you as soon as I got back to Korea. Can’t you understand where I’m coming from?”
“……”
The more he talked, the less I could stand him. I didn’t even know where to start explaining.
Pressing my forehead, I took a moment to think, then laid it out cleanly.
“I didn’t quit Hiore because of you. I quit because I got tired of it—and I had to go back to school.”
Sure, Chae Yu-jeong’s “jungle diff” joke had been the final spark, but that wasn’t all.
There was the burnout from hitting my skill ceiling, the chatrooms overflowing with toxicity, and the reality of returning to college. I had plenty of reasons to quit. In fact, I hadn’t played any games at all for months—not just Hiore.
“You lying to me multiple times? The problem isn’t the lies themselves. It’s that the trust broke.”
“……”
“No matter what you say now, I’ll think it’s bullshit. With that in mind, how the hell are we supposed to go back to how we were? Maybe you can, but I can’t. That’s why I cut ties and lived fine for a year.”
Ui-chan bit his lip, unable to reply. Looking at him, all of this suddenly felt pointless.
What the hell was I even doing here? Sitting in a café with Chae Yu-jeong and Kim Daeseok waiting behind me, wasting time talking to this guy? I saw no reason to stay and stood up.
“If you get it, stop contacting me. Don’t show up again. I mean it—it’s fucking disgusting.”
“……”
“I’m leaving.”
I turned my back on him without hesitation. And right by the entrance, I caught sight of Chae Yu-jeong’s anxious face, watching me nervously.
It made me laugh a little. Across from him, Kim Daeseok was just playing a phone game, but Chae was squirming, worried out of his mind—kind of cute, honestly.
“Hyung, are you okay?”
“Of course I am. Let’s go.”
Chae gave a brief glance toward Ui-chan, then quietly followed me out of the café. The moment we stepped from the warm air inside into the cold, my body shivered and the headache sharpened.
“Did it go okay?”
“Yeah. He won’t come again.”
I nodded to Daeseok’s question.
If Ui-chan hadn’t been convinced, he would’ve argued to the end. But he hadn’t said a word when I told him I was leaving—so I figured he finally got it.
‘One problem down, at least.’
The moment we rounded behind the café building, I grabbed Chae Yu-jeong by the ear and yanked.
“Ow, ow! That hurts!”
“It’s supposed to. What are you doing here?”
He clutched the reddening ear, teary-eyed.
“Because you kept ignoring my messages…”
“I told you I was busy. I was literally planning to text you tomorrow, and you couldn’t even wait that long?”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Of all days, you had to show up when Kim Ui-chan did. Things were already a mess, and now because of you I—”
“Hold on.”
While I was scolding him, Chae suddenly reached out and touched my forehead. A cool, gentle sensation spread across my skin.
Caught off guard by the sudden touch, I froze as he frowned and said,
“Hyung, you’ve got a fever.”