Chapter 136
Chapter 136
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: You're Sad, Aren't You?
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There are things that can't be conveyed through a monitor.
Human science and technology haven't advanced enough yet to deliver that live, on-site feeling as if you're really there.
The VIP seats were quite a distance from the general audience sections, and the crowd density was much lower, but even so, the heat and cheers from that direction felt like they could crush you.
When streaming from home and only seeing reactions in chat, you couldn't feel it—this overwhelming sense of being swallowed up that permeated the tournament venue.
The snide remarks questioning whether e-sports even counts as sports never stop.
But come to a place like this, and you know right away.
The people here are all genuine, putting in genuine effort, fighting with all their heart, and cheering with true passion.
It's something you can't grasp just from watching through a screen and reading text-based hype.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"
Watching the source of those cheers, I found myself thinking.
What if it were me sitting there?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ — Anonymous Aren't you guys tired of mocking TP for getting runner-up again? — Reply [Athlete meme: "No, it's fun every time. Each moment brings a new feeling."] — User The ones who are tired aren't us mockers—it's TP, who's stuck getting runner-up lololol — User Why'd my comment post twice? — Reply ↳ Reply Why'd my comment post twice? — User You guys are committing character assassination! — Reply ↳ Reply Are you a TP fan by any chance? Oh dear... how did you end up making such a tragic choice... "What kinda crap are you looking at?"
Lee Jun placed a hand on his teammate Dong-woo's head and ruffled it roughly.
Hard enough to hurt a bit.
"Ow!"
When they first got runner-up, there wasn't any of this.
It started with the second runner-up, turning into a meme about getting second place twice.
It's the same old routine if you keep scrolling.
Lost again? Total wipeout this time?
Aren't you tired of mocking them?
No, it's fun every time, and so on.
At some point, Lee Jun stopped checking online reactions.
There was no reason to endure mockery from people who just trolled for laughs, pretending not to be fans.
In truth, seeing the genuine fans who truly hurt for them was far harder.
The agony of disappointing those who had believed in him again.
He'd felt the impulse multiple times to run through the streets or scream at the sky.
He'd never actually done it, though.
You know, like how if a huge guy like him started yelling in the empty streets at dawn, the neighbors would freak out.
Something like that.
"It's not over yet."
Two runner-ups this year already secured their Worlds spot.
Korea got four seeds, so first-place Ascend and second-place Team Proud were locked in for the World Championship.
While the other two teams fought in qualifiers, these two could kick back or grind practice.
He'd even thought it might be better to be a low-tier team sometimes.
But they hadn't accepted defeat, which is why they were here.
No matter the ridicule, second place was still an achievement.
You couldn't reach this stage with half-hearted resolve.
If you don't break, opportunity is still right there.
If you don't crumble, you can climb anytime.
If it feels eternally out of reach, that's an illusion.
This finals really came down to a hair's breadth, a razor-thin margin.
That tiny gap wasn't some eternal divide—it was all in their heads.
"Worlds is the main event. The real fight starts now."
Speaking to his junior like a reminder to himself.
Speaking to himself to encourage his junior.
"Dinner's on tonight."
"Huh? Suddenly?"
The coach dropped the after-party news out of nowhere.
It wasn't that rare, but announcing it on the day like this was unusual.
"Got sudden sponsorship for it."
"What?"
Sponsorship for dinner? What did that even mean?
The mystery of this "dinner sponsorship" revealed itself that evening at the venue.
"Whoa!"
Team Proud wasn't a poor team by any means.
Nice dorms, good food.
So TP Woo—player Kim Dong-woo—wasn't just amazed at the pricey Hanwoo beef spot.
It was because his longtime admired streamer was right there in front of him.
"I'm a huge fan! Autograph—no, photo first!"
"I'll do both, so calm down a bit."
"Why are you here?"
The finals had been that close.
A single tremble could have flipped the result.
So Seol-a thought.
Maybe because of her, early in the tournament, Lee Jun had been so distracted that fate shifted.
It was intangible, unmeasurable by numbers, but like failing a test by one point?
All sorts of what-ifs flood in.
If only I hadn't done that then, studied more, tried one minute longer—things might've changed.
Because it was such a razor-thin loss, Seol-a felt pangs of conscience.
Memories of stealing the team ace and captain Lee Jun's time and focus resurfaced.
Tormented by creeping guilt over days, Seol-a decided to buy her absolution with money.
Dinner sponsorship, plus cheering them on. Summer season was over, but Worlds—the biggest event of the year—remained.
If they did well, it'd be a beautiful ending.
"How can a face be this perfect? It's like a different species. No hidden wings or anything?"
Oblivious to her tangled feelings, Dong-woo unleashed his fanboy energy without restraint, while the other teammates didn't go overboard but couldn't hide their delight.
Pretty girls just make you feel good to look at, better up close, and irresistibly fun to hang with.
And not just any pretty girl—the world's prettiest, not just sitting nearby but sharing a meal.
And sponsoring the dinner? Total fan move.
Team Proud's morale shot through the roof!
Everyone except one: Lee Jun, wondering what the hell was she doing here?
'They're all wasted.'
Team Proud players were all early twenties.
Prime age for dumb illusions like "holding liquor looks cool."
When absolute stunner Seol-a poured drinks, they gulped them down and lost their minds.
Only the coach, the lone responsible adult, refused alcohol and wrangled the juniors.
Meanwhile, Lee Jun and Seol-a were left alone, eyes meeting.
Still clueless why Seol-a was acting so weird, Lee Jun asked straight up.
"Why'd you suddenly set this up?"
"Just... to cheer you on."
It didn't add up.
Seol-a hated crowds.
Didn't welcome strangers.
Weighed every relationship a hundred times before diving in.
For her to sponsor and join a dinner out of nowhere? Unheard of.
"I'm fine. We'll do great at Worlds."
Lee Jun misread it.
She pitied him for runner-up again.
Close, but worlds apart.
Guilt and pity were 100 million light-years different.
"No, it's..."
Different, yet eerily similar.
She wouldn't feel this if he'd won.
It was guilt born from his loss.
"Still, doesn't it suck?"
"I'm fine."
"But it must be tough, right?"
"No, we'll win next time."
"You don't look okay, though."
"Enough!"
Lee Jun saying don't worry versus Seol-a going crazy with worry—an odd staring contest.
Something bubbled inside Lee Jun.
Emotions he wouldn't feel if they'd won.
What was missing?
We gave our all.
So what shortfall caused the loss?
They reviewed right after, but it only highlighted the opponent's brilliance—no clue what they should've done differently.
Coach, teammates, analysts—all baffled. Without pinpointing it, they'd lose again.
"...Do you know what our team lacked in the finals?"
Lee Jun suddenly remembered: the girl before him was one of the world's best gamers.
Hard to imagine from that pretty face, petite frame, and quirky aura.
But she was the genius who made people feel walls, awe, envy—a whirlwind of emotions.
"How should've we won game two? What did we mess up there?"
"That..."
Not drunk-talk.
Notes—gotta jot every word.
Lee Jun pulled out his phone, opened memos, and started transcribing the "answer key" his team couldn't find.
Despite all that effort, one genius outdid them?
But learning like this—could they reach higher realms someday?