Genius Archer’s Streaming - Chapter 260

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Genius Archer’s Streaming Season 1 Episode 260
92. Impressions (1)
“I’m going to win the Olympics.”
After finishing my brief remarks, I descended from the podium.
What followed wasn’t formal interviewers, but rather journalists from several small local newspapers who swarmed around me.
-Student, would you be willing to do an interview with us? You’re incredibly handsome. We’ll feature you prominently in our sports section.
-Do it with us. Don’t you have time? We’ll give you great coverage!
-How did you meet Coach?
Many of the journalists seemed desperate, bordering on rude, but I kept my words to a minimum.
I’d already said everything I needed to say. I remembered Coach’s maxim about never becoming arrogant upon reaching the highest positions.
I suppressed the urge to tell them to get out of my way and instead lowered my head respectfully.
“I apologize.”
After passing by about six journalists, Coach greeted me.
“Hmm. It seems you’re really going to the Olympics.”
Coach appeared quite pleased, satisfied with my interview demeanor and my improved manners.
I had a somewhat sullen expression on my face.
It was because I didn’t appreciate the compliment.
Coach chuckled and patted my head.
“Well done. I’ve already said it before, but you’ve accomplished something remarkable.”
“Thank you.”
I always wanted to be praised for my skills. I had no interest in being flattered for my appearance or etiquette.
Such things were what only cowards who feared others’ gazes would concern themselves with.
That’s why Coach had once suggested we swap faces, but I still hadn’t given him an answer.
“Sang-hyun Yu!”
From behind Coach, a girl with long hair came running and called out my name cheerfully.
She wore the same white uniform as me and a bucket hat.
Due to her running speed, the hat fell off, and sunlight streamed across her face.
That bright expression, as radiant as the sunlight itself, drew closer and closer.
Grab!
She seized my hand and shook it.
“This is insane! It’s an unofficial record!”
Coach chuckled at her excitement. She’d come running as if to embrace me, but stopped at just holding hands—she was still just a kid, after all.
“It’s unofficial though.”
The National Championship wasn’t recognized as an official record. Because of that, there was already a record of a perfect 10 arrows shot.
The unofficial record Soyeon was referring to was a tie with that perfect 10 record.
The only difference was that I was younger.
“Still! Next time we can go official and break it!”
Even my cold water couldn’t dampen Soyeon’s spirits.
The teammates who came out afterward also chimed in with their own comments.
About my performance at this tournament.
“Wow. Sanghyeon, you’re incredible. I got completely destroyed~ I guess it really is just a difference in talent~”
Dongsu walked over with his usual leisurely gait and smiled.
If one were to judge by peace of mind, Sanghyeon suddenly thought there was probably no one who could surpass that guy.
“Dongsu, you don’t even practice half as much as Sanghyeon and you still enter tournaments. Aren’t you the real talent?”
Hyeonju, who followed behind, chided him. She was the only first-year student competing in this tournament.
“Hey. Why wouldn’t I practice? It’s because I can’t improve even when I do! When I was a first-year back then….”
“Well. Should we go eat?”
Coach cut off Dongsu’s words and pointed to the car.
“How about jjajangmyeon?”
Sanghyeon, who wasn’t particularly interested in food, asked where jjajangmyeon was, but the objections were fierce.
“Sang-hyun Yu won!?”
“What!? That can’t be right!”
“Wait, what is this, North Korea!? Coach!?”
Coach corrected himself with a playful expression.
“Just kidding. Today it’s beef.”
At that moment, an enormous cheer engulfed their ears.
Sanghyeon laughed brightly as well.
Not knowing what would unfold after this.

* * *
“An abnormality in the brain… it’s a permanent condition.”
At the doctor’s words, Grandmother nearly cried out.
“What? Doctor! What do you mean!? You’re saying it can never be fixed!?”
“You’ve probably heard of cerebral palsy. What patients usually know about is cerebral palsy combined with intellectual developmental issues, but….”
“Cere… cerebral….”
“There are many cases of cerebral palsy affecting only parts of the body. You can think of Sanghyeon’s condition as similar to acquired cerebral palsy.”
“Oh… oh my….”
Grandmother collapses to the floor.
She is crying.
But why does that memory come back now?
The beef I ate back then didn’t seem to taste that good.
Looking down at my trembling right arm, I asked myself.
The sleeve was already soaked through, unable to hold any more moisture.
Drip… drip….
Yet tears continued to fall endlessly upon it.
“If you focus on rehabilitation, daily life should be manageable. Right now, the nerve issues in your right hand are compounded, making symptoms more severe. The nerve problems can be addressed through rehabilitation.”
Grandmother had lost all rationality for conversation.
She was pouring all her strength into holding back her sobs.
Because of this, I had to ask instead.
My eyes, wet with tears, turned toward the doctor.
“…You can’t do archery anymore?”
The doctor adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses for a moment, then approached me without a word and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“No one knows that yet.”
The doctor had spoken with hopeful intent, but to me, it sounded different.
‘No one knows how to treat it.’
In truth, that wasn’t wrong either.
Because no one knew, there was hope—but it was hope on the level of an unsolved mathematical problem.
The doctor couldn’t meet my eyes directly and left the hospital room.
After that, a nurse came and gave a rough explanation of what would happen next.
“First, the hospital bills have been covered by the taxi company’s insurance.”
My grandmother regained some composure and took notes on what she said, but
I just stared blankly out the window.
The clear sky, and beyond it, the mountains visible in the distance—I could even feel the texture of the rocks.
That’s because my eyesight was quite excellent.
In modern archery, eyesight isn’t absolutely critical, but having good vision certainly helps.
“So we can stay hospitalized as long as we want?”
“Yes, of course. Elder. Everything has been covered by insurance. The entire treatment process.”
Whether I could stay hospitalized as long as I wanted wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered to me was archery.
Whether I could shoot my bow as much as I wanted—that was what mattered.
“You’ll definitely recover to the point where you can manage daily life.”
My grandmother exhales in relief.
‘At least you’re alive… you survived…’ She says at least you managed to keep your life.
‘Is that really true?’
I couldn’t be certain.
I’d never said it aloud, and I’d never even consciously acknowledged it myself, but…
Archery had become everything to me.
In a life living with my grandmother in Daldongne, in a life attending school in South Korea without any aptitude for academics, it was difficult to find any hope. But
Archery was my escape route.
By chance, I was quite good at it. Only then did I feel the world was fair in its own way.
It gave me this meager talent, allowing my grandmother and me to survive.
It wasn’t telling me to die.
“However… regarding the rehabilitation treatment for athletic training that you inquired about… it won’t be covered by insurance.”
As the nurse moved to the main point,
I began to question whether I should continue this.
Maybe it would be easier for everyone if it all just disappeared.
How much had my grandmother suffered climbing up and down those stairs that exhausted even a man in his twenties?
Her knees were already completely worn down, the bone grinding, yet she never showed a hint of complaint.
“According to the contract, it covers health for daily living. This kind of thing requires separate athlete insurance. But the student hasn’t been officially registered yet….”
I wasn’t officially registered as an athlete yet.
In truth, to become an athlete worthy of the association providing such insurance, I needed to have at least competed in the Olympics.
“You are registered as an athlete. It’s all set.”
“…What?”
At that moment, a man entered through the door and interjected.
It was Coach.
“He’s registered as an athlete. So please provide all the rehabilitation treatment.”
The Nurse’s expression was flustered.
“Is that so? When I checked….”
“This kid won a gold medal at the National Championships a week ago. There’s no way someone like that wouldn’t be registered as an athlete.”
“Ah….”
The Nurse clearly had no idea what he was talking about.
“W-well, let me check.”
The Nurse left the room for now. Coach greeted my Grandmother, then approached me and sat down heavily.
“….”
Coach couldn’t bring himself to look at me, turning his gaze away to stare at distant mountains.
“So the insurance money comes through with the athlete registration?”
I asked suspiciously.
As expected, Coach shook his head.
“No. That might be a bit difficult.”
I figured as much.
I understood this situation better than anyone.
“The athlete registration just went through, and the insurance hasn’t even been purchased yet. It’s supposed to be a done deal, but insurance companies aren’t fools… They won’t pay out for an incident that happened before the policy was even activated.”
“…Then what was that?”
So what was all that bluffing just now?
“I secured a subsidy from the association.”
“?”
Coach looked at me seriously and spoke.
“You need to decide carefully. This is literally a subsidy. Consolation money.”
Since I could no longer continue my athletic career, this was consolation money provided out of pure goodwill for losing a promising prospect.
“Insurance money can only be used for treatment. But this is cash paid directly to you. You can use it for purposes other than treatment. For reference, regarding your treatment… the realistic assessment I heard from the Doctor is that the probability of recovery to a level where you could continue your athletic career is less than 0.2%.”
“I know.”
“And even that wouldn’t restore you to your original condition.”
“…Yes.”
“What will you do?”
I paused to think for a moment.
But my Grandmother couldn’t contain herself and flicked my head.
“What! Why are you thinking!? You fool! Of course you should get the treatment! If you try to be clever and do something strange, that’s really the end! Coach! Can we process that right now!?”
And so I received all the treatment I needed using the subsidy from the association and the insurance money from the taxi company.
I resolved to throw myself into rehabilitation with the determination to die trying.
So I stopped going to school and devoted that time entirely to rehabilitation.
The physical therapy room could be used continuously at no additional cost if the patient desired.
My arm began to tremble very slightly, gradually reaching a level that wouldn’t interfere with daily life.
“Sanghyeon. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Just rest a little….”
Even the physical therapist was worried, and I had staked everything on this rehabilitation.
“Your muscles have completely lost their strength. Right?”
What sustained me wasn’t muscle.
“I didn’t reach today’s target.”
It was willpower.
The willpower of a man who had lost everything, with only a single goal remaining.
With just that one thing, I was prepared to endure anything.
That’s what I thought.
“…Sanghyeon. You got a call, but you kept not answering, so they came here.”
Until I received a phone call that came through to the physical therapy room one day.
“Who… died?”

* * *
This wasn’t the first time for me.
Going to a funeral—not what’s commonly called a “lucky funeral,” but an actual wake.
I had a memory of having to serve as the chief mourner at that very wake myself.
It was when my parents passed away.
I was too young to remember it well, but what was clearly imprinted in my mind even at that young age was the atmosphere of that place.
First, there were many people crying.
-Sooooob….
-Oh my… Soyeon… Soyeon…!
-What can we do. What can we….
And there was a certain heavy silence that couldn’t be put into words.
Hardly anyone spoke easily, and most just observed a quiet moment of silence before leaving.
When eating, many people were careful even about the sound of chopsticks.
And there were many adults who looked at me with pitying eyes.
They would come to me and say something before leaving.
I never saw them again after that. When I was young, I found them repulsive and hated them.
Now I myself had come to this place from the perspective of those adults.
I realized I couldn’t blame them.
I had no ability to save those grieving so deeply over Soyeon’s death.
Because of that, I couldn’t speak to them easily.
If I offered comfort I couldn’t take responsibility for, it seemed unbearable.
Had they carried this burden and spoken to me?
I bit my lips tightly and moved forward.
“How did you come?”
“Soyeon….”
“A school friend?”
A friend? Yes, that’s what we were.
We ended up staying just friends.
I nodded.
“You can just go over there and bow. Thank you for coming. You’re quite handsome for a friend.”
Was she Soyeon’s Aunt? A woman who resembled Soyeon’s Mother slightly guided me, and the sound of weeping grew louder.
A familiar face turned toward me.
Soyeon’s Mother, who bore a striking resemblance to her daughter.
“You’re… Sanghyeon?”
“Grandmother is… out right now. I came first.”
“Th-thank you.”
Thank me?
I didn’t deserve gratitude.
If anything, I was the one who caused this.
Whether it was because I needed to bow or for some other reason, my legs gave out and I collapsed.
“…Ugh.”
Bowing with my face to the ground made it harder to hold back the tears.
“Hnngh… h-hnngh…”
I couldn’t stand again.
I couldn’t stand and see Soyeon’s beautiful smiling face in that photograph.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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