Side Story Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Two years ago
"Hey, cut some slack and get in."
I looked back.
There was a person standing in front of the practice room door, looking at me.
They had their hand on the light switch in the practice room, planning to turn the lights off, so I would come out.
"Let’s go to sleep. All the kids are uncomfortable."
They don’t seem to be uncomfortable.
It looks like they’re all in the dorm and sleeping.
I was the only one left in the practice room.
"It’s our monthly free time. Do you have to stay in the practice room and make other people uncomfortable?"
Apart from holidays, the club gives players free time once a month.
They have to stay in the dormitory, but we are considerate of each other, so they can spend their time as they please.
And even if I practiced during that time, there should be no problem.
"Don’t you think that other people are being harmed because of you? No, you didn’t lose today, so why are you making a fuss even though you won. You can just rest today. Hey, are you ignoring me? Do you think that your seniors are funny?"
Such a long talker.
"Hey, don’t be rude; get lost."
"…What?"
The senior was furious, but unfortunately there was nothing more he could do.
He was active in the past, but now he’s on the bench where he can’t even play.
There will be disciplinary action at the club level if a player who eats only salaries at the club dormitory every day interferes with my practice and causes friction.
The senior cussed for a while and then left.
The practice room was quiet again.
I wanted to resume practice right away, but I couldn’t.
I lost my concentration for a moment.
The pain I had forgotten during practice began to appear again.
I took the eye drops next to the mouse and put them into my eyes.
It feels like my dry cornea is torn.
Pain flows through the nerve membrane and into my eyeball.
The headache I felt in the middle of my head ran down the back of my head to my spine.
Neck, shoulders, back, and pelvis.
My wrists were tingling.
I felt a stabbing pain from time to time.
From the tips of my fingers to my knuckles, down my wrists to my elbows.
There was no place that didn’t hurt.
Although there were no major problems with my daily life.
By the standards of a pro gamer, I was close to half a corpse.
It’s been quite a while since my debut.
There was only one reason why I won the title right in my debut year and didn’t miss it throughout my playing career.
I practiced that much.
I was able to win championships by my skills without any variability.
It doesn’t cost money to practice, and if I just put in my effort, I’m guaranteed to improve my skills.
That’s what I thought, but the cost wasn’t as low as I thought it was.
My body couldn’t stand the years of abuse.
A year at most.
If I have to forcefully drag it out for a long time, it will last about two or three more years.
And for that extended period of time, I could be a waste and I wouldn’t even see the championship.
So this year was the last.
There is a trophy display case behind the practice room.
Tournament trophies awarded to the club and its players.
Most of the showcases were occupied by the prizes I had won.
All of them were trophies.
The most recent trophy was a runner-up trophy.
My gaze was fixed.
It may be an honor to some, but to me, that was just a joke that had to be removed as soon as possible.
"Hooo."
I grabbed the mouse again.
If this is really the last year.
I should wash away that disgrace and retire.
I continued to practice.
Until the phone lit up.
Normally, I would have ignored anyone calling and focused on practicing.
[Father]
It was a call from my father.
It’s been months since my father called me.
What have you been up to?
I quickly picked up the phone.
* * *
One day in the hospital room.
After going through the pain that comes from time to time and the ominous feeling that strikes him every time he sees the doctors and nurses, he feels tired and exhausted even after lying in bed all day.
When he was lying on the bed with no energy, the only entertainment that comforted him was the TV in the hospital room.
"Why are you looking at something like that again?"
That’s why…
When his daughter picked up the remote control and switched TV channels, he unwittingly got angry.
His daughter sighed and returned to the original channel.
It was a gaming channel.
The channel broadcasted game competitions.
After waiting for a while, his youngest’s name was called on the TV.
"Ugh, was there a match today?"
His daughter looked at the TV reluctantly, and said.
She is his eldest daughter who hates his youngest playing games more than anyone else.
So he tried not to turn on the game channel in front of his daughter as much as possible, but today was an important match day.
Aside from the game, it was also a really important day.
The surgery was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
The doctor said the surgery had a high chance of success, but that didn’t mean there was no chance of death during the operation.
So he had to watch today’s match.
After waiting a little longer, the host introduced the match and players to be broadcasted today.
His youngest’s profile was captured on the screen.
"That’s great. I worked hard
His daughter bit her tongue and ran out of the room.
His youngest dropped out of college and became a pro gamer.
He thought his youngest wanted to show that he has that much will and potential.
He didn’t think it was a good way to persuade others of that.
He knew that his youngest was more passionate about his job as a professional gamer than anyone else, and that he had the ability to earn enough money.
It was only because of the sacrifices that were forced on his eldest since childhood.
He couldn’t help but feel the regret and disappointment that was caused because of it.
She can be comforted, though.
The time had already passed, and his daughter’s lost time could not be regained.
He was even more apologetic to know that his daughter’s resentment for leaving the hospital room was something her father, not her brother, deserved.
The first match started.
His youngest’s match was second.
[Okay, the game has started. The first to meet at 9 o’clock is Blue Jin-young, Park Seong-hwa.]
The comments of the game casters and commentators began.
He pulled out a thick notebook that he had left under his pillow.
He turned the pages and listened to the commentators.
[Park Seong-hwa is a good starter. Contrary to his opponent who chose a build to start relatively well, is it a strong build in the early to mid-range?
[Hey, I’m done with this build.]
Build.
Actually he didn’t understand the build.
However, he checked the comments of the commentators and the description of the build, which was written in crooked letters in the notebook.
He diligently flipped through the notebook to find the description of the player.
Park Seong-hwa, Park Seong-hwa Park. Found it.
Park Seong-hwa – The gameplay in the second half is not stable. There are a lot of things that go wrong trying to forcibly finish the game.
Here are the best possible cases.
No matter who wins, the first match will be over soon.
He won’t have to wait long until the second game where his youngest appears.
A happy smile formed.
* * *
His son could be seen from afar as he entered the booth to play a game.
The excitement he had just before disappeared in an instant.
He felt frustrated as if there was a stone in his chest.
He looked unwell.
He could tell at a glance that his son’s health was bad.
He looks like that?
What the hell are the team managers and coaches doing?
The game started and the commentators started shoutcasting.
His eyes didn’t go down to the notebook.
During the match, it sometimes shows the players’ faces for a moment.
He couldn’t put his head down to the notebook, lest he might miss the brief screen.
About 15 minutes have passed since the game started.
For a moment, his youngest’s face was reflected.
The commentator admired and praised his youngest’s face, concentrating on the monitor in front of him.
The cheers of his youngest’s fans were heard.
He couldn’t.
His son’s countenance was awful, so he couldn’t look at his son’s face with joy.
The match continued, and even after the match was over, his youngest’s face did not leave his mind.
Since he won today’s match, it would be good to rest a little.
He knew very well that his youngest wouldn’t do that.
‘That child could die before me.’
He thought so.
At first, he didn’t even know that the kid had a strong desire to win.
Because he won every time.
The son he sees once every few months boasted only of his victory.
So he thought he was a good son.
He studies well, does sports well, and speaks well.
The father knew later that he wasn’t perfect, but that he was a strong kid that couldn’t lose to anything.
Not to lose to anything, not wanting to lose anything.
He was sharp and sensitive, as if he would die once he lost.
He felt like his heart was collapsing.
Even if he stopped his youngest, he wouldn’t listen.
Still, he was a good listener to his sister, but after the two of them became distant, he couldn’t interfere.
No, it’s funny now that he was interfering.
He didn’t deserve it.
He saw the hand holding the notebook.
It was a blunt, rough hand.
It was the hand that touched mechanical equipment more than the hands of his children.
His fingertips became numb and it was difficult to turn the pages of the notebook page by page.
The writing in the notebook was crooked.
It was full of mistakes because he couldn’t learn to write.
He is the only one in the world who can properly recognize this nonsense handwriting.
So neither the nurse nor his daughter could see this notebook.
Because he was shy.
As much as he lacked his own hands, he treated his children poorly.
His daughter, who had to go to work every day while attending school, gave up university and said she wanted to work in a factory.
His youngest child who saw his face only once or twice a year and grew up almost neglected.
He picked up the calendar at the bedside.
Tomorrow was marked with a red circle.
It’s the surgery day.
He’s never been a father in his life.
He couldn’t even discuss the future.
Now it was impossible to predict how much more time would be left.
He shook his daughter, who was sleeping in the caregiver’s bed, to wake her up.
He asked his dreary daughter where his cell phone was.
"Why, Dad. Are you going to tell Ho-jae about the surgery tomorrow? That’s a good idea. He should know now."
Saying so, his daughter gave him his cell phone.
He wanted to tell his youngest.
Past failures, future failures and successes.
Do your best, but don’t push yourself to the brink by hurting yourself.
Apart from success, you are a worthy person.
He wanted to tell him that it’s okay and that he loves his youngest.
He was so determined.
* * *
So the night passed.
Even the short morning wait passed.
Morning came.
Then, the door to the hospital room opened.
His youngest said he would come as soon as he finished training, and when he saw the face of his youngest who opened the door of the hospital room, he forgot what he wanted to say.
The words he had prepared to say, not even a greeting came out.
Nothing really came out after seeing his youngest’s condition, which was much more serious than he had expected.
Anguish and sorrow.
A sense of shame.
"What’s going on, Dad?"
Unknowingly, he raised his voice.
Completely different words from what he had prepared came out.
His son sighed in frustration.
"Father… at least tell me why you called me."
The conversation went contrary to his original intentions.
He couldn’t be honest because of his lack of communication, intense emotions, and his fear behind the blame.
His youngest and his conversation continued to run in parallel lines.
In the end, it ended in the worst way possible.