> [Match Victory]
MVP: QueenZero
KDA: 12/1/17
"Maybe next time, try not blaming your support for your bad aim :)"
Zara Lin grinned as the screen flashed victory gold, her headset still warm on her ears. The game had ended with one perfect clutch, and the chat was now exploding with half praise, half rage.
She typed her final message, muted the lobby, and leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.
Another night, another carry.
Another ego bruised.
---
Behind her, the tiny one-room apartment buzzed with life — ramen boiling on the stove, her cat pawing at her keyboard, her inbox full of ignored emails from "real life."
> ZG Pro Esports Internship Starts Monday – 9:00 AM
She winced.
Zara didn't want to be anyone's intern. She wanted to play. Compete. Prove herself.
But no one let a girl like her into the big leagues. Not without a name. Not without a face. And certainly not without selling out her identity for clicks.
Online, she was QueenZero — the sharp-tongued, soft-voiced ghost of ranked matches, famous for shielding toxic players to their doom.
Offline?
Just a broke, black-hoodie-wearing nobody with cheap noodles and a cracked phone screen.
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city...
Inside a high-tech gaming lounge glowing in blue neon, Adrian Zhen stared at the replay with a clenched jaw.
"Play it again," he said flatly.
His team's analyst swallowed nervously. "Captain… she wasn't even the carry role."
"I don't care."
On screen, QueenZero's support moved like water — positioning perfectly, baiting, shielding, saving her team from collapse while turning the tide of every fight. It wasn't flashy, it was genius.
Humiliatingly so.
Adrian had been solo-queued into that match after a late-night scrim. He hadn't expected resistance, let alone a player who made him look stupid.
"She's not signed to any team," the analyst added. "We ran her handle through every amateur bracket and scouting list. She's a ghost."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "Then find the ghost."
---
Monday – 8:52 AM
Zara stood outside Vortex Esports HQ, hoodie pulled low, hands stuffed in her pockets.
She didn't want to be here.
Correction: she didn't want to be here as an intern. She wanted to be inside that building holding a controller, not a clipboard.
The glass doors opened automatically as she stepped in. The hall was sleek and cold, like the inside of a gaming PC — glass, metal, and LED glow. A receptionist glanced up.
"You must be Lin… Zara? Follow me."
---
The tour was short. She was shown the press area, the practice room, and then—like fate wanted to humiliate her—the lounge where the team hung out between games.
And there he was.
Adrian Zhen.
Tall, focused, intimidating. Headphones around his neck, sleeves rolled up, watching a replay on the big screen with barely hidden frustration.
Her replay.
Her. Replay.
The one where she'd baited him into overextending twice, misusing his ult, and rage-pinging into a corner while she danced around his ego.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned to sneak back, but—
"You. Intern."
She froze.
He didn't look away from the screen.
"Get me coffee. One sugar. No milk. Don't mess it up."
She nodded quickly. "Yes… Captain."
But as she turned away, she couldn't help the smile creeping up her face.
> He didn't know who she was.
He had no idea.
And she'd already beaten him once.