Chapter 116: Do not covet others

The invitation came from Once, but even when he wasn’t around, I occasionally joined the server to talk about the game.

Even if it was called a discussion, it mostly ended with reactions like, “Ah, I see. As expected of JeonJeonSeol.”

But I didn’t mind that.

They had much better understanding than the average viewer with a Silver rank, so the conversations went smoothly—and I do like being praised, after all.

But as a result of getting closer to people,

Seulgae – <JeonJeonSeol, may I speak with you? Can we hop on a call?>

I felt a bad premonition, but I thought, surely not.

Surely he wouldn’t confess just because we’d spent a few dozen hours chatting over voice for a few weeks.

─ “Would you go out with me!?”

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

“No.”

─ “Ah, right! Of course! I’m sorry!”

If only it had ended with some awkwardness.

But Seulgae (in-game nickname: sad frog) left the server.

He was an excellent contributor who translated all kinds of overseas Teamfight Arena info.

Blka – <Huh, why did Frog leave?>

Blka – <Now who’s going to translate stuff…>

Wait, this is my fault?

I’m the one who got ambushed with a surprise confession!

It was such a weird phenomenon.

I never gave the slightest opening for a confession, yet they somehow saw one on their own, charged in, and ended up leaving the server every time.

What exactly were they seeing that made them think it was time to make a move?

Luckily, the server was big and full of people.

Even if a few disappeared, it didn’t make much of a dent.

Maybe the others realized they were all getting rejected, because no more confessions came.

Phew.

Now I could finally enjoy some peace.

Then one day, Once asked me:

Once – <Want to go watch the TCL finals together?>

JeonJeonSeol – <No.>

JeonJeonSeol –

Teamfight Arena Champions League.

TCL for short, it was the official Korean Teamfight Arena tournament.

This time, it was the ever-repeating match-up of Victory vs. Wild, ASC vs. Team Proud.

Even if tournaments and solo queue were quite different games, it still didn’t make sense for someone this into the game to not watch the finals.

But watching it live was… a bit much.

And going just the two of us? Even more so.

Thankfully, Once didn’t leave the server just because I rejected him.

I was nervous, thinking it might be another round of disguised confession.

Apparently, he really did have one ticket left, and he ended up going with someone else.

As for me, I stayed in my room, turned on the live stream, and watched the finals with my viewers.

---

Twice runner-up in domestic tournaments, once in the world championship.

The opponent each time? Victory and ASC.

And now, once again.

The same two teams met in the finals.

People say underdogs are fun to root for, but even that sentiment wears out eventually.

There weren’t many fans left supporting Team Proud, crushed by ASC every time they met.

It gets tiring to cheer for the team that always loses.

It feels better to cheer for the one that always wins.

Even though both were Korean teams, and this was a match in Korea, it still felt like an away game.

This was the enemies’ home ground—they were a squad of villains.

So I prayed for the villains to succeed.

I wished the arena would fall into silence.

─ “How far will the myth of the undefeated go!? The unstoppable! The invincible embodiment of victory—Victory!”

“””WOOOOOOOOAAAAHH!!!”””

One player receiving an especially loud cheer.

I imagined that cheer was meant for me.

I had always given it my all.

Not just today, but always.

For a long, long time.

─ “ASC is solid! Team Proud has no idea how to break down this iron fortress!”

But giving your all doesn’t always work in this world.

It’s not about trying hard—it’s about doing well.

In a competitive game like Teamfight Arena, you win only if you play better than your opponent.

─ “And with that, ASC wins the championship once again!”

Lee Jun, now holding three runner-up finishes.

And now, one more added!

He becomes the proud holder of four silver medals!

─ “Ah, that must really hurt.”

Seora watched the finals unfold in real time as she streamed the broadcast.

The score was 3:1.

It wasn’t even close enough to call it a narrow loss—it was a pretty one-sided match throughout.

Maybe it’s natural that our eyes go to the backs of the defeated Wild players, rather than the victorious Victory squad.

When someone’s in pain, they’re more noticeable than those enjoying themselves.

“Are we still friends?”

The group chat of three people.

Of all times, the finals pitted two of them against each other, making it awkward to cheer for either side.

But she had sent a message of support and received a reply.

Even so, there was a strange sense of distance.

“Must be because of that incident.”

Seora, seeing the mood of victory rising, lied that she liked Lee Jun to stop someone from confessing to her.

After that, things became awkward between the two of them.

Maybe it festered because she tried to forcibly block a wound that couldn’t be contained.

Lee Jun, on his end, had staked everything on this tournament, so he wasn’t in touch much.

In the end, the three of them were left in a very awkward state.

‘If getting close to someone is this difficult, then what am I supposed to do?’

Why do people confess their feelings?

Isn’t it scary to change a relationship into something else?

In reality, no one who confessed to Seora still talks to her.

So does that mean it wasn’t that important to them, so they could confess easily?

Or were their feelings too big to be contained, so they just burst and overflowed?

Why does getting close to someone take this much overthinking?

Lee Jun – <Now that the tournament’s over, should we all get together for a drink?>

Thankfully, Lee Jun was the one to break the silence.

The person who had just lost—Lee Jun, with four runner-up finishes—reached out first, allowing the three to meet again.

---

“It’s not over until it’s over. I will win the championship, no matter what.”

Lee Jun, drunk, murmured to himself.

“So! Until then, take care of that trophy. Don’t let anyone steal it.”

“That sounded like something straight out of an anime character.”

“Shut up. You otaku.”

Flinch.

Seora bit her lip.

‘That line just now sounded so friendly.’

She felt a little happy after hearing something that only close friends could say to each other.

And watching her smile softly, Wooseung also flinched.

‘She really must like him.’

To be that happy from just hearing a line like that—how deep in is she?

The place the three were at was a private room bar on the outskirts of Seoul.

Since it wasn’t a busy area, it was easier to avoid attention, but still high-class enough—with reservations only—that even celebrities often came here.

Wooseung, whose network had expanded due to modeling gigs and other things, got introduced to this place by a celebrity fan.

It was expensive, but among the three, no one really cared about that level of cost.

Lee Jun, surprisingly mentally strong, joined the conversation as if nothing had happened after making his one statement.

After a brief bit of small talk,

As always, when these three got together, the topic returned to the game.

That was their kind of relationship.

“The ranked scene really leveled up while you two were gone. It’s not what it used to be.”

Seora started sharing her own stories.

The two of them had been focused on the tournament for months, and that entire tournament had been broadcasted online.

“In less than four weeks, three people confessed and ran away. It’s not my fault, but I feel like I ruined the mood somehow. It’s all just weird and not great!”

“Honestly, I don’t get it. You’re a total shorty.”

“Who are you calling short?!”

Flinch.

Wooseung, who thought Seora’s proportions and figure were perfect, gave a small shiver.

“Come on, you admit it too, don’t you?”

“No! Not at all!”

“You wore height insoles today, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen your real height without shoes on.”

“You remember the weirdest things!”

“How could I forget that?”

While Lee Jun, the runner-up, laughed and chatted happily, Wooseung, the actual winner, took internal damage and was metaphorically coughing blood!

‘The two of them really look good together.’

The reality he had forced himself to forget for the tournament came crashing back in front of him!

‘If those two get together, I guess I can at least stay friends with them.’

His stamina was already at zero, and his soul was halfway out of his body.

“You two are both too tall. Give me like 10 cm each.”

“How tall are you planning to be?”

“That—”

He almost said “You’re perfect the way you are,” but Wooseung barely held the words back.

Saying something that could be misunderstood wouldn’t be good.

“Wanting what others have is a shortcut to unhappiness. Learn to be satisfied with what you have.”

Who was that even directed at?

“You say that, but you seem to have way too much already.”

But not the thing he wants most.

And probably never will.

“Once said he really wants to meet you guys now that we’re together. Is it okay if I invite him?”

“I’m fine with it.”

Before anyone realized it, the topic had taken a strange turn.

While the other two were busy preparing for the tournament, Seora had made new connections.

Of course, being a high-ranked player and a streamer in the same game, they probably shared a lot in common.

But why is he coming here?

Wooseung’s eyebrow twitched.