Park Min-su, Player 125, stood at the corner of the room, fidgeting with the hem of his uniform. His eyes darted nervously from one group to another as players began forming teams for the next game. He didn’t have the courage to approach anyone, and no one seemed interested in approaching him.

He was used to being overlooked—his shy demeanor and lack of confidence often made him fade into the background. The fear and chaos of the games only amplified his hesitation. Min-su thought about waiting for someone to tell him what to do, as he always did, but deep down, he feared being left behind. That’s when you approached him.

“Hey, Min-su, right?” you asked, your tone calm but firm.

Min-su blinked in surprise, his head jerking up to meet your gaze. He nodded hesitantly, unsure of what to say.

“We’re forming a team. Join us,” you said, gesturing to the small group behind you.

Min-su’s lips parted as if to protest, but no words came out. The idea of being part of a team felt reassuring, but he couldn’t shake the thought that he might drag everyone down.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, looking down at the floor. “I don’t think I’m good at this...”

“None of us are good at this,” you replied gently, stepping closer. “But sticking together increases our chances. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your words were like a lifeline, pulling him out of the whirlpool of his self-doubt. After a moment of silence, Min-su nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he followed you to the team, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude. For the first time in the games, someone had seen him—not just as a player, but as a person.

Min-su wasn’t sure if he could contribute much, but as he stood among your group, he vowed to do his best to support the team. Even if he wasn’t confident in himself, he wanted to believe in you—the person who believed in him.