Chapter 116
Chapter 116
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: Do Not Covet What Belongs to Others
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Once had been the one to invite me, but even when he wasn't around, I'd pop into the server now and then to chat about the game.
Our "discussions" mostly consisted of me saying something, followed by replies like, Sounds about right. As expected from a legend!
But that wasn't so bad.
These folks had way better game sense than my average Silver-tier viewers, so conversations actually flowed. Plus, I love getting praised.
Unfortunately, getting close to people like that led to...
SadFrog:
I had a bad feeling, but no way, right?
He wouldn't confess after a few weeks and dozens of hours on voice chat, would he?
—"Would you go out with me!?"
And yet, it actually happened.
"No."
—"Y-Yeah, figured... Sorry!"
It could've ended with just some awkwardness.
But SadFrog left the server.
He'd been a goldmine, translating all sorts of overseas Teamfight Arena info for us.
Blka: <Hey, where'd Frog go?>
Blka: <Who's gonna translate info now...>
Wait, is this my fault?
I'm the victim here!
What a weird situation.
I hadn't given off even a hint of interest, but somehow they imagined I had, charged in, and got shot down—one after another—before bailing from the server.
What the hell were they seeing, and why did they go for it?
Luckily, the server was big, and there were plenty of people.
A few dropouts didn't make much of a dent.
Once they realized all the escapees had struck out with me, the confession attempts stopped.
Phew.
Finally, some peace.
Then one day, Once asked:
Once: <Wanna watch the TCL finals together?>
Once: <Got one ticket left>
Jeon Jeonseol: <Nah>
Jeon Jeonseol: <Offline events aren't really my thing>
Teamfight Arena Champions League.
TCL for short—the official Korean league for Teamfight Arena.
This finals matchup was the usual suspects: Victory vs. Wild, Ascend vs. Team Proud.
Even if pro play differed a bit from solo queue, it made no sense for game enthusiasts like us to skip the finals.
But watching live in person? Eh.
Especially just the two of us? Double eh.
Thankfully, turning him down didn't make Once bail from the server.
I was bracing for it, thinking it was another confession ploy.
True to his word about the extra ticket, Once went to watch live with someone else. I stayed holed up in my room, streaming the broadcast with my viewers.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Runner-up twice in domestic tournaments, once in worlds.
All against Victory and Ascend.
And now, a fourth time.
The two teams back on the grand stage.
People love cheering for underdogs—but only up to a point.
Not many fans left rooting for Team Proud after getting crushed by Ascend every time.
It's exhausting cheering for constant losers.
Way more fun backing the winners.
Even in a domestic match between Korean teams, it felt like an away game for Team Proud.
This was enemy territory. They were the villains.
So pray their dirty tricks pay off.
Pray this arena falls silent.
—"How far does this unbeaten legend stretch?! Unbreakable! Undefeatable incarnation of victory! Victory!"
"""Wooooaaahhh!!!"""
One player drew an especially massive roar.
He imagined that cheer aimed at him.
Choi Joo-an had given it his all. Not just today—every day before.
For a very long time.
—"Rock solid! Ascend! Team Proud can't find a way to crack this fortress!"
But effort doesn't guarantee results in this world.
It's not about trying hard—it's about doing it well.
In competitive games like Teamfight Arena, you win by outplaying the enemy.
—"And Ascend takes the championship once more!"
Lee Jun, holder of three runner-up finishes.
Make that four!
—"Man, that has to suck."
Seol-a watched it unfold live on her stream.
Final score: 3:1.
It'd been a lopsided grand finals from start to finish—not exactly a nail-biter.
Was it inevitable her eyes went first to Wild's slumped back over Victory's triumph?
Pain always stands out more than joy.
'We're still friends, right?'
The group chat with the three of them.
Awkward timing with the two facing off as enemies in finals—who to cheer for?
She'd sent support messages anyway, gotten replies.
Still, that weird distance lingered.
'Guess that incident made things awkward.'
To dodge a confession while watching the victory vibes, Seol-a had lied, claiming she liked Lee Jun to throw the guy off—by trash-talking the player.
Things got strained after that.
Forcing shut a wound that wouldn't heal properly only made it fester.
Lee Jun had gone radio silent, all-in on the tourney.
In the end, their trio hung in awkward limbo.
'If just getting close to someone is this hard, what am I supposed to do?'
Why do people confess anyway?
Aren't they scared of ruining the relationship?
No one who'd confessed to Seol-a was still talking to her.
Was it because they didn't value it that much?
Or did feelings overflow uncontainably, bursting free?
Why did bonding require so much overthinking?
Lee Jun: <Tournaments over. Wanna grab drinks?>
Thank goodness Lee Jun broke the ice.
The runner-up himself suggesting it let the three reunite.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "It ain't over till it's over. I'm definitely winning one someday."
Drunk Lee Jun muttered.
"Damn right! Hold onto that trophy till then. Don't drop it."
"That sounded straight out of an anime."
"Shut up, you otaku."
Seol-a flinched, biting her lip.
'That banter felt so... friendly.'
Hearing that easy, buddy-buddy exchange lifted her mood a bit.
And Victory flinched seeing Seol-a's faint smile.
'She really likes him, huh.'
Beaming like that over some dumb line.
How deep in is she?
The three were at a room bar on Seoul's outskirts.
Not a crowded spot, perfect for avoiding eyes. Yet upscale enough—reservations only—that celebs frequented it.
Victory's wide network from ads and such had led him here via a fan in the industry.
Pricey, sure—but none of them batted an eye.
Lee Jun's mentality was ironclad; after that initial vent, he jumped right back into chat like nothing happened.
After some small talk...
Whenever these three got together, talk inevitably turned to games.
That's their bond.
"Rank's shot up hardcore while you were gone? Not the same ladder anymore."
Seol-a caught them up on her exploits.
They'd been tournament-locked for months, all streamed online anyway.
"Three confessions in under four weeks, all bailed after. Not my fault, but feels like I killed the vibe. Weird mood anyway! Hate it!"
"Honestly, no clue why. Total kids."
"Who're you calling a kid!"
Victory flinched.
He thought Seol-a's proportions were perfect—then shuddered a little.
"Admit it, you know I'm right."
"No! Not at all!"
"Wore lifts, didn't ya."
"How'd you know?"
"Seen you barefoot."
"Your memory's too good for useless crap!"
"How could I forget?"
While runner-up Lee Jun bantered happily, mysterious internal injuries struck—Victory, the champion, coughing up blood!
'They look so good together.'
Reality he'd shoved aside for the tourney slammed back!
'If they date, we stay friends, right?'
His HP was already zero, soul ascending.
"You two are too damn tall. Gimme 10cm each."
"How tall you tryna get?"
"Uh."
He almost blurted he liked her as-is—but Victory swallowed it.
Can't say stuff that'd spark misunderstandings.
"Coveting what others have is a shortcut to misery. Learn to be content with what you've got."
Who're you telling?
"Says the guy with everything."
But he couldn't have what he wanted most.
Never would.
"Once keeps saying he really wants to see you guys since we're hanging out. Cool if I invite him?"
"Fine by me."
Somehow, the convo had veered weird.
New connections while the duo prepped for tourneys.
High-rankers into the same game, streamers too—perfect common ground.
But why here?
Victory's eyebrow twitched.