Genius Archer’s Streaming - Chapter 704

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

The Genius Archer’s Streaming Season 3 Episode 174
57. The Beginning (3)
That was Dujun.
Everything was a first for him.
Advancing to the main tournament, winning in the main tournament, being selected as MVP, giving an interview in a massive stadium, and receiving this tremendous roar of support directed at him.
Standing before the microphone in the midst of those sound waves resonating and overlapping, Dujun took his place.
Perhaps the moment he had always dreamed of.
He recalled a certain time.
When Almond, that streamer, came to our team.
‘I didn’t understand it.’
He had been one of those who couldn’t accept that Almond was joining our team.
He harbored doubts about his skill, but that wasn’t the real issue.
What Dujun couldn’t understand was something else.
‘The reason why.’
Why did Almond want to participate in the international tournament?
He was someone who, so to speak, lacked for nothing.
Whatever hardships he may have faced in the past, the current Almond was succeeding brilliantly as a streamer, enjoying wealth and popularity that couldn’t even be compared to those here.
For such a person, the grueling march of the international tournament would be unbearable.
That’s what Dujun thought.
‘Someone like that couldn’t endure it.’
People without a reason to endure were not needed.
Skill was secondary.
No matter how exceptional one’s skill was, if they couldn’t endure this grueling march, it meant nothing.
They couldn’t function as a player in the international tournament.
He had already witnessed countless examples.
People with skill who gave up midway. People who ultimately returned to living their original lives.
Those people weren’t wrong.
Rather, he sometimes thought that perhaps he himself was the one who was wrong.
However, this system called the international tournament seemed to desire humans like Dujun—those who were somehow broken.
And so the conclusion was reached.
People without a reason to endure were not accepted.
Chiseung knew this as well.
Yet Chiseung gave him this answer.
“Almond has a reason to endure.”
“What? What could he possibly be lacking?”
“He wants to be on the national team.”
“…The national team?”
It was the first time.
Someone coming here for such a reason.
“Is that really a reason to endure? More than anything…”
I couldn’t understand what he was saying at all.
「We’re not a national team, are we?」
Dujun had harbored doubt for quite a long time.
Or rather, he simply hadn’t understood it.
But why was he thinking about that conversation now, at this crucial moment?
Why did Chiseung’s wry smile and that answer he’d given keep surfacing in his memory, filling his entire mind?
「He says we’re like a national team to him.」
Dujun squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
A microphone was thrust toward him, and the reporter posed a question.
Between the roaring cheers, he couldn’t quite hear what was being said.
Dujun bit his lip, holding something back.
‘I’d never thought of it that way before.’
Whether Chiseung knew it or not, Dujun had never harbored such illusions.
Despite spending so long immersed in this game, Dujun was thinking about it for the first time.
A national team, they said.
Could such a thing even be possible with this game?
It only felt shameful.
We’re fake, after all.
‘But that became a reason to endure….’
Even if they were nothing but hollow fakes, for him, that alone had become a reason to persevere.
Wasn’t that proof—that he now stood here beside them?
“Coffee…?”
The reporter examined his complexion with a tone of concern.
The audience’s cheers gradually transformed into murmurs of confusion.
He wondered why his eyes had grown so hot.
No matter how tightly he shut them, they wouldn’t stop.
With trembling hands, he barely managed to take the microphone and open his mouth.
“…Ah, I’m sorry. What were you asking?”
“Ah. Your thoughts on the victory! And this is your first time being selected for MVP. How does it feel?”
Dujun nodded.
He briefly met eyes with Sanghyeon standing beside him.
What he felt in that gaze wasn’t worry or bewilderment like everyone else around them.
He was simply watching. It felt as though he was offering some kind of strength to him.
“I, I…”
Dujun’s Adam’s apple bobbed once.
“I never once thought we were a national team. But… someone saw us as one….”
He took a deep breath, swallowing his voice that had grown thick with emotion.
“At first… I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought, what does that matter… does being a national team put food on the table… I thought….”
Pfft.
Dujun let out a laugh, as if desperately trying to drive away his tears.
“But then, when one person believed so strongly like that, a miracle happened. More and more people came to believe in us like that… We were just ordinary people playing a game, yet they called us the national team.”
“…”
The Reporter nodded, signaling that he could continue, and watched him intently.
Dujun gathered his courage and pressed on to the end.
“I still wondered if that even meant anything… if it was a reason to endure… but it wasn’t. It wasn’t like that.”
I’m crying / Wahhh / Boo-hoo
Why are you crying?
-Oh my
I’m crying / I’m so sad
He squeezed out his final strength, speaking each word with careful precision.
“It became much…”
After finishing his words, Dujun collapsed as if his legs had given out beneath him.
Scenes from a faded film played through his mind, illuminated beneath dim stage lights.
When he first played this game, when he met Cookie, when he first saw the international tournament, when he first met Baram…
They were certainly unremarkable memories.
“It became a much greater strength than I expected.”

* * *
In the waiting room, Cookie watched Dujun’s interview, his eyes fixed on the screen with complicated emotions swirling within them.
It had been quite a while since he’d held the coffee, and various thoughts drifted through his mind.
As he was composing his emotions, someone approached him.
“Hee-cheol.”
It was Taeyong Lee, the previous generation’s Commander.
“Ah. Taeyong hyung.”
Hee-cheol already knew he had come to watch, so his voice didn’t betray much surprise.
He turned around to face Taeyong.
Taeyong approached and nodded.
“Listen. I knew you’d pull it off. I…”
He swallowed hard before continuing.
“I knew I’d made the right choice.”
Tap.
As he placed his hand on Hee-cheol’s shoulder with those words, Hee-cheol found himself unable to respond.
“…”
Since Hee-cheol was appointed Commander, Joseon had never made it to the finals.
After this continued for about two years, the arrows of criticism were also directed at Taeyong, the previous Commander.
Why did he choose Cookie, who was a complete rookie, and not hand it over to another veteran? The Commander had no eye for talent, which is why Joseon is in this state… and so on.
Though these were small criticisms from small communities, for them that world was everything, so it felt as if the entire world had turned its back.
‘Did I make the right choice?’
In truth, this question still hadn’t reached a conclusion in Hee-cheol’s mind.
Only now did Taeyong’s choice shine, but perhaps they had taken a far too long path to get here.
Hee-cheol found himself bewildered by his own thoughts.
‘I still can’t understand it.’
He believed that if he could claim victory in the main tournament, this confusion would fade away.
After all, Joseon had achieved something unprecedented in their history.
Yet Hee-cheol was someone who paid attention to the process as much as the results.
Perhaps that was why the doubt refused to dissipate.
When Hee-cheol had asked why he was chosen, Taeyong Lee had given him this answer.
“Because the time given is short.”
Taeyong Lee didn’t know about Hee-cheol’s physical condition—at least, that’s what Hee-cheol believed.
Yet after hearing those words, it was difficult to think otherwise.
“How could you choose me for something like that? You should do it properly based on skill. I’m fine, really.”
“I believe my choice was right.”
The words remained ambiguous, but Hee-cheol interpreted them as Taeyong Lee knowing his condition and deliberately giving him the opportunity first.
In the end, the member who lost to Hee-cheol left the Think Tank, and Hee-cheol had held the Commander position for five years despite poor performance.
Why Taeyong Lee had chosen him, whether it was the right decision—he still couldn’t know for certain.
Even when he asked the reason, Taeyong Lee never gave a proper answer, and Hee-cheol couldn’t keep pressing with questions that felt like exposing his own weaknesses.
He simply focused quietly on the tasks given to him.
And so today had arrived.
It was certainly a remarkable achievement, but it wasn’t enough to overturn that strange process entirely.
Joseon would need an overwhelming result they could never ordinarily produce.
Only then could Hee-cheol truly believe that Taeyong Lee’s choice had been right.
Tap. Tap.
Hee-cheol chuckled bitterly and patted Taeyong Lee’s back.
“Yeah. You chose well, hyung.”
Taeyong Lee smiled brightly and nodded.
“Yeah. Man. When the tournament ends, let’s celebrate big.”

* * *
Outside the stadium.
“Almond!”
It was Jesse.
I encountered her as we exited the stadium after the match.
Having suffered a defeat with a score of 2 to 0, and given how fierce the competition had been, I didn’t appear to be in particularly good condition.
Yet she waited for me to say a final farewell.
“You played really well today. It feels like just yesterday you were so cute.”
I had received compliments from Jesse many times before. Somehow, they all seemed to be about my appearance, and this felt like the first genuine compliment.
“Are you heading straight to Denmark?”
“Yeah. Shouldn’t I? It would be nice to do more shopping here and have fun, but public opinion isn’t very favorable right now.”
Jesse was sensitive to public opinion because she led a professional career.
‘So this is the kind of problem successful nations face.’
Indeed, being held to high expectations is a difficult burden.
Even Jesse, who was always bright and confident, seemed downcast like this.
“Will you… come back next year?”
Jesse asked me cautiously.
She roughly understood my circumstances and the situation of the Joseon team.
She knew the likelihood of me not coming was high.
“Yeah. Probably.”
Still, I said I could go.
Pffft.
Jesse burst into hearty laughter at my confidence, then turned and left.
“See you again then.”

* * *
The losing team departs, and the winning team remains. For the next match.
The Joseon national team decided to rest at their lodgings.
“Ugh~~ I’m exhausted.”
Pangeo, who shared a room with Sanghyeon.
The moment he entered the lodging, he hastily changed clothes and collapsed onto his bed.
“Ah… but we won! We won! Now I can face my mother with confidence as a son who….”
Zzzzzzzzz…!
He fell asleep mid-sentence.
Apparently, Pangeo’s mother had said nothing to him since his resignation.
It must have been quite a shock for the adults.
‘He’s really something.’
Of course, the son didn’t seem to mind much, simply sleeping soundly now.
Almond thought there were some advantages to his own situation when he saw this.
Just looking at Juhyeok, conflict with parents wasn’t an easy matter.
After showering, Sanghyeon threw himself onto his bed.
“…Sigh.”
He brushed back his still-damp hair and raised his arm upward.
His right arm.
As he held it up, it began to tremble slightly after a moment.
Crunch….
He clenched his fist.
As he applied force, his hand trembled even more.
‘Can I not compete in the second round?’
I knew it already.
If I used a capsule that wasn’t my personal one like before, even a premium line would be difficult.
Yet experiencing it firsthand was different.
It wasn’t as easy as I thought.
‘Coffee seemed to know too.’
He hadn’t said much, but when Coffee sent me away separately and pushed me forward, I felt something.
Coffee had initially shown signs of wanting to escape with me.
But then he suddenly stopped and jumped down.
‘He knew because he held my hand.’
Though my intuition wasn’t particularly sharp, I was extremely sensitive about anything related to my right hand.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say all my nerves were on edge—I could detect even the slightest glance toward that side or the slightest pupil movement when someone noticed my disability.
At first, it wasn’t confirmation.
It remained mere suspicion, but eventually their actions would confirm it.
Sometimes things resolved well like today, but more often they didn’t.
“Sigh.”
For now, I set this worry aside.
I adjusted the pillow and sprawled out in a comfortable position.
It seemed like a good idea to catch some sleep while Pangeo was resting.
Just as I was closing my eyes.
Knock knock.
Someone tapped on the hotel room door.
‘Huh?’
It was probably Ratte or Spam.
Since they usually gathered in Pangeo’s room to hang out, they often came over to this side.
‘They all have such good stamina.’
Coming to this room to play right after the game ended.
Knock. Knock.
Someone tapped on the door again.
“Ah… coming.”
Sanghyeon slowly got up, hastily threw on his shirt, and opened the door.
“!?”
Standing outside the door was someone I completely hadn’t expected.
“Sanghyeon. I blocked you, didn’t I?”
“…!”

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