Farewell, My Home
It took a long taxi ride from my house to the Tundra Silver Airs office. Not as far as the hospital, but still a solid distance.
When I arrived at the office, I naturally tried to head inside and go straight to the meeting room like I always had before... but.
"Excuse me, this area is restricted to authorized personnel only. What brings you here?"
Ah, she didn't recognize me. The staff member blocked me from getting on the elevator.
It would've been a free pass back in the day, but now that I was a woman, it made sense that she wouldn't know who I was.
I could've just said I was Seo Yeonwoo at that point—it probably wouldn't have mattered—but explaining everything right there felt like too much of a hassle, so I let out a sigh.
"I'm here to see Manager Im. For a meeting."
"Ah, a streamer...? Here for a contract? One moment."
Streamer, my ass. I'm a pro gamer, you idiot. Don't you even recognize your own team's mid laner? Well, of course she wouldn't.
"Alright, you're cleared. Head up to the third floor."
"Got it."
After the staffer left, I took the elevator to the third floor. I'd been to the office a few times since it was the team HQ, but I didn't know it like the back of my hand, so I got a little turned around on the way to the meeting room.
Manager Im was waiting there right on time, just as promised. He worked in the front office—honestly, I wasn't even sure exactly what that entailed as a pro gamer. Anyway, he seemed pretty high up. Probably.
"Ah... whoa, uh, no. Hello."
He spotted me, let out a little gasp, and greeted me. I got it, but wasn't that kinda rude?
"Yeah, hello. Long time no see."
"Right, yeah. You've changed a lot since last time."
"Tell me about it."
His joke had a bit of a bite to it—not funny at all—but since it probably wasn't malicious, I didn't call him out on it. Still,
"It's such a wild disease, really. I'd heard about it, but I didn't realize it was this extreme. Changing like this... I didn't even recognize you at first."
"Same here. I didn't recognize myself either."
I fired back with a little bite of my own.
Manager Im gave an awkward smile and clammed up. I hadn't outright called him out, but he had to know I was pissed after that.
"Yeah, well, anyway, glad to hear you're healthy. How've you been lately?"
"Let's cut to the chase. I'm not in the mood for small talk."
"Ah, right. Straight to business, then."
He was trying to smooth things over with chit-chat, but I shut it down and demanded we get to the point. I'd never interacted with him much, so I didn't hate the guy or anything, but that earlier joke had already soured my mood—and honestly, even without it, nothing had been going right lately, so I couldn't help it.
"Take a look at this first?"
He handed me what looked like a schedule... or plan of some sort. It wasn't fully locked in yet—just rough outlines scribbled down.
I read through it carefully. It covered resuming streams, plus photoshoots, ads, fan events, and even variety show appearances. A bad feeling crept in.
"What's this?"
"It's the schedule we've put together for player Seo Yeonwoo."
"What did you just say?"
"You've been out sick this whole time, but with the season starting soon and your health improving, we thought it might be time to ease back in. Of course, we can't just do whatever—we wanted to hear your thoughts first, so..."
"Hold up. Don't you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"
"Pardon?"
"The season's about to start. Where the hell am I supposed to find time for this crap?"
Of course, there was time. I wasn't a starter anymore.
...Benchwarmer life.
But that was that, and this was this. You don't just slap together a schedule like this the second someone hits the bench. Practice time aside, it didn't even make sense. What did they think I was, some fucking clown?
"W-well, you're kind of in a semi-rest period right now anyway. You've got time to spare, so wouldn't this be a good opportunity? Like a breather."
"Fuc— No, come on. You know that's bullshit. I barely have enough time to practice as it is. I'm grinding ten hours a day already—how am I supposed to do all this and play?"
"We'll make it work somehow... That's the organization's stance, at least."
"...What? Hold on—you didn't talk to Coach Kim about this?"
"I haven't spoken to Coach Kim separately."
"Ha, for real..."
"Look... I get it. I know it might rub you the wrong way. But we're not a charity here. Letting a player of your caliber just sit around is a massive loss for us too. We can't have you competing, sure, but that meant we had to scramble and sign a new player out of nowhere. You have to understand it's not an easy spot for us either."
...He wasn't wrong. My salary was no joke—they didn't want me just twiddling my thumbs, and even I couldn't argue with that logic. They'd shelled out big money for me, only for me to end up unusable, forcing them to grab a replacement. Trying to squeeze whatever value they could out of me made sense.
But what I couldn't wrap my head around was... the contents of this schedule.
Resuming streams? Fine, nothing weird there. I'd been doing game streams before all this anyway. Not on a strict schedule, but still.
Photoshoots? Yeah, with my face and body totally changed, they'd need new shots for whatever. Not strange.
But ads? Me? As annoying as it was to admit, what the hell good is a pro gamer in ads? Sure, maybe for someone like Proud, but objectively? I wasn't at that level.
Pro gamers did ads all the time, yeah—gaming gear, chairs, that kinda small stuff. But... I sure as hell knew they didn't do cosmetics ads. The schedule said "examples only," of course.
Fan events weren't weird either, but did I really need to be the one fronting them right now? Not tagging along with the others—solo?
And worst of all, variety show appearances.
...Something stank.
It reeked, but how do you even put it into words?
"Of course, this is just a draft—we'll adjust it based on what works for you. We're not ignoring your input or pushing anything through without you. If there's stuff you hate, just say the word..."
"They."
"Pardon?"
"Earlier, when I got here."
"What do you mean...?"
"They asked if I was here to sign a streamer contract. The staffer did."
"Ah... did they?"
"Anyone else here today for a contract talk besides me?"
"No... not that."
Yeah, I knew how to phrase it now.
The staffer probably just bullshitted about a "streamer contract" since my face wasn't famous enough to recognize.
But to me, it meant this:
"You're planning to force me into retirement?"
"...No, nothing like that."
"Not full retirement, but something close?"
"It's a misunderstanding."
"Gonna debut me as a streamer or what?"
"That's..."
"Yeah, didn't think so. I know."
"Right, yeah. Glad you understand..."
"You're telling me to get out."
"..."
Yeah. That's what it was.
That's exactly what it meant.
They probably weren't literally saying "leave," but to me, it was no different.
It had been a long road.
My first team was CM Revolution Gaming.
I fulfilled my two-year contract there. Then I transferred to Tundra Silver Airs.
It wasn't like that from the start, but at some point, Tundra became more special to me than even my original "hometown" team. The teammates I'd spent two years with, the coach who treated me like his own daughter, the fans who still cheered for me even after slipping up in the Worlds finals twice.
It was the team I loved, the one I poured my heart into. So many events, so many memories.
I believed that someday, someday for sure, I'd reach the top here. No— I thought it had to be here.
I wanted the chance to bring a championship glory to Tundra. To stir up a blizzard in this frozen land and leave behind eternal snows that never melted.
I wanted to share that victorious moment with everyone. To claim this honor for Tundra.
For my teammates, my coach, the fans, me, the team. And,
My home.
And now, that home was telling me to leave.
"Don't misunderstand. We never thought anything like that—we're just trying to find a better path for you."
"That's exactly it."
If you can't earn your keep as a player, then do it as a clown.
Yeah, it wasn't evil. Like the organization said, they weren't running a charity.
It was all spelled out in the contract anyway. Every item on that schedule—I'd seen it all when I signed. Usually, it was just boilerplate "just in case" stuff.
The only difference was that now, since I wasn't a starter anymore, every single plan revolved around this crap.
"Am I wrong?"
"...We're respecting your wishes all the way, and this is a proposal for your benefit."
"Don't make me laugh."
Me, a clown?
I wasn't knocking clowns. Hell, pro gamers weren't all that different at their core. It was a job to entertain others.
If you thought about it, existing to make people laugh made pro gamers a type of clown too.
But a clown's a clown—and I'm not some circus jester.
I'm a gladiator.
A gladiator who fights and fights again to become the champion of this colossal arena.
That's what a pro gamer was.
Fighting for others' entertainment didn't make the struggle any less real.
Telling me to quit this fight was as good as telling me to die.
"You're basically saying sell this damn face of mine."
"Misunderstanding. We're considering your condition—and sure, it's temporary, but if it drags on, we have to plan for that possibility too..."
Yeah, since my skills probably weren't coming back anyway, why not retire and leech off the team as a streamer with this face?
Fuck that shit.
"...Does Coach Kim know about this?"
"Like I said earlier..."
No, not that.
"Not that I didn't tell him I was coming—but does he know about all these plans?"
"...Yes."
"Now I get why you didn't tell me."
A sigh escaped me. The coach had told me not to go public with the fact that I'd become a woman. Strangely insistent about it.
So that's why.
He knew the organization would try to cash in on this face.
Thinking back, a few front office people had visited me in the hospital.
So that's why the coach had blocked me from revealing my condition.
To leave me an escape route.
To quit as a pro gamer and start a new life...
Don't make me laugh.
You know damn well I'm not that person.
"Fine. We'll do it your way."
"Really?"
"Yeah. That's what you want, right?"
Contract terminated.
"...Pardon?"
"Fuck the penalty fee—I'll pay it. I'm breaking the contract. You don't wanna keep paying me, that's why you're pulling this."
"That's not..."
The organization wasn't the villain. Strictly speaking, this had little to do with my transformation. If I'd still been crushing games, it wouldn't have mattered at all.
If I'd just kept winning.
...This was all because I sucked now.
No organization wants to pay a player who can't play.
The organization had made a perfectly rational, obvious decision.
So the organization wasn't bad.
I was.
The me who couldn't play anymore.
"Let's end it. I'm done. I'm quitting everything. Just let me go."
Something welled up inside me.
Only then did I finally recognize the emotion choking me.
"I'll be the one to leave."
I'm done.
"Take care."
Self-loathing.
"Ah, fuck, something's in my eye."
Why? Suddenly, something gushed out of my eyes. I wiped at it—not tears—with my sleeve and stormed out of the room. My vision blurred from whatever it was.
Manager Im called after me, but I ignored him and kept walking. No time to wait for the elevator—I bolted down the stairs.
I burst out of the Tundra Silver Airs office and just kept running. Gamer stamina being what it is, I didn't get far.
Panting, I wiped at whatever was leaking from my eyes.
Glancing back, I could see the office building in the distance, and next to it, the dorms. Hadn't made it very far at all.
...That place had been my home for two years.
And today, my home had said goodbye.
So now, I was homeless.
The place I was staying now had never truly been home, not for a single moment.
...Where do I go now?