The sports world was like that. They said everything was judged by results, but reality was a little different. Not all victories held the same value. For example, it was impressive when someone who was always good won again. Despite the achievement, people would react with comments like, “Boring,” or “Him again?” Fans craved the rise of a new challenger after a certain point. They sought new excitement. In the end, what truly stirred everyone's hearts was the underdog’s rebellion. A struggling team pulling off a miraculous run and winning it all was exactly what Joseon showed this time. Joseon’s victory carried far greater weight than any other wins. However, it came with an important caveat. "That’s only true among people who actually know Civil Empire." Just as Ju-Hyeok said, one had to already be familiar with Civil Empire to fully grasp the value of this win. They had to know how weak Joseon used to be, how poor Korea’s infrastructure was for the game, and so on. At the very least, one needed to have watched since two years ago to truly feel the impact of this victory. "But most people in Korea don’t fit that category." Civil Empire was an unpopular game in Korea. Most new fans had only joined during the high-profile Korea-Japan match. To them, Joseon’s victory seemed spectacular purely because the back-and-forth, high-stakes games were thrilling or because they beat nearby rivals like Japan and China. It wasn’t because Joseon had been the underdog. Sure, people knew in their heads that Joseon was the underdog because everyone kept saying so, but experiencing a team's struggles firsthand and simply knowing about them were very different. If one had been following Joseon from the start, they would have sobbed uncontrollably like most Embul users when Joseon won. [I bawled my eyes out...] [Never thought I’d cry watching an esports tournament... I can die happy now.] [Ahhh... Everyone did so well...] What about the casual viewers who only lightly watched the tournament? Sure, they cheered during the event, but what came after? "The buzz started dying down pretty fast." Just like with anything else, the memory was already fading into the background. The Civil Empire victory followed the same course. In truth, the news always worked like that. Unless it was something truly massive, no story stayed on the front page for more than a week. "That’s why this video was so important." Ju-Hyeok spun his chair around after explaining. Sang-Hyeon, suffering from a hangover, nodded while yawning and slowly got up. He opened the fridge and pulled out some milk and almond cereal, clearly not listening seriously. Ju-Hyeok pressed on, "Cookie’s story doesn’t need you to know anything about Civil Empire to relate to it." One needed context to understand Joseon’s victory, but didn’t need any prior knowledge to understand Cookie’s story. Life, death, and dreams were universal. Cookie stood his ground and lived out his dream in the face of death. Not many sports stories could move people . "That’s why Director Jang adamantly wanted to produce the documentary. And Cookie agreed to it too." Thanks to that, attention toward Civil Empire reignited just as it seemed to fade. This could become a huge stepping stone for the upcoming Civil Empire pro league and the players preparing for it. "Haah. In the end, father Cookie even left us this." Sang-Hyeon spooned cereal into his mouth and muttered, "I hope it’s not really the last thing he leaves behind." He regretted calling it the last, but they all knew a small wish like that couldn't overturn the colossal current of life and death. Ju-Hyeok silently watched Sang-Hyeon eat his cereal with a somber expression. He had been so focused on the business side of things that he almost forgot. ‘Cookie... really is dying.’ Everything that happened was only possible because Cookie lived through it so bravely. He truly lived out the hardships and the process just like he said. This content belongs to NoveI★Fire.net "Any updates on Cookie?" "He got another checkup, but no news on the results." The fact that they weren't sharing the results probably meant... nothing had changed. "I'm going to ask him." Ju-Hyeok was startled. That wasn’t an easy thing to ask, and Sang-Hyeon wasn’t the type to stick his nose into others' personal struggles. "If the end is really near... I want to be prepared." A memory still haunted Sang-Hyeon. A time when he hadn’t been able to prepare for an ending. “You're quitting archery? You? Why the hell?!” “It's not fun anymore.” “What...!? Are you even hearing yourself?!” Sang-Hyeon muttered firmly, "I have to ask." Spring in Korea meant wild temperature swings. "At least wear something! It's freezing at night!" Grumbling, Sang-Hyeon threw on a thin cardigan over his t-shirt and stepped outside. "Where are you meeting them? What are you going to eat?" Ju-Hyeok asked, smacking his lips even though he wasn’t coming. If Sang-Hyeon said he was going to eat spicy grilled pig trotters, Ju-Hyeok would typically sit there drooling and imagining it. ‘Ah~ One bite of that grilled, smoky pig trotter... Put it on fresh white rice... The chewy texture blending with fluffy grains...’ Even though he wouldn’t eat any of it himself. Ju-Hyeok always stubbornly insisted on eating a properly cooked breakfast every morning instead of cereal. Today, though, Ju-Hyeok wouldn’t even get to enjoy that. "I guess we’ll just order a bunch of stuff?" "... You're ordering delivery? At an important dinner ?! Without even deciding on the menu first!?" Ju-Hyeok recoiled in horror. "Yeah. Anyway, I gotta go." Sang-Hyeon slammed the door behind him and sprinted away. ‘Weren’t rich kids supposed to have no appetite because they were spoiled? Guess he’s a mutant...’ Laughing to himself, Sang-Hyeon dashed down the neighborhood's steep stairs. He came to a sudden stop. Sang-Hyeon made eye contact with Ji-Ah. 'What the... what time is it right now...?' She looked like she was coming home straight from work. 'It’s already midnight?' When Ji-Ah spotted Sang-Hyeon, she awkwardly laughed and waved. "We barely ever had company dinners... but once we did, it was wild. I drank enough to last a lifetime." She had been drinking for almost twelve hours straight. 'Director Jang really doesn't mess around.' Ji-Ah usually enjoyed drinking, but those guys were on a whole different level. "Y-yeah, you look the part." "Where are you headed?" "I’m meeting up with the think tank guys and the others." Ji-Ah nodded understandingly. They were about to simply pass each other when— She lightly grabbed Sang-Hyeon's arm. "Cookie’s coming too, right?" She hurriedly dug into her handbag and pulled something out. "Our production team wrote this. I was supposed to give it to him tomorrow... Wait, today, I guess... Anyway, I was supposed to deliver it." "It’s a letter. You know, the kind where everyone writes something when someone leaves or a project ends." Sang-Hyeon nodded and took the letter. It had been folded so many times that it looked like it would open into a huge sheet. "Ugh, Ah-Sung had no heart. I could never even imagine getting something there." "Same with Great Enterprise. Typical big corporations." They shared a chuckle of mutual understanding, waved goodbye, and parted ways. Sang-Hyeon sprinted down the stairs again. Because of all the little delays, it looked like he would actually be late for the meetup. As he checked the bus schedule at the stop— "It's Almond! It's Almond!" Sang-Hyeon froze on the spot. 'No way... are people shouting that?' People normally recognized him when he went out these days. Most Koreans either quietly passed by or politely asked for a photo or an autograph. Now, it felt like some monster from a disaster movie had appeared. "Almond! Give me your autograph!" He realized what was happening as he slowly processed the situation. The voices sounded young. They were kindergarteners. A whole line of kids had spotted him while heading somewhere. It was the first time kids had recognized him, so he felt a bit overwhelmed. "Kids! If you leave the line, you're gonna lose points!" Sure, the adult in charge could dock points if one kid broke the line, but there was no stopping the entire group from rushing forward. "Take a picture with us!" The children swarmed him. “If one player dives in alone, it's a troll play. If everyone jumps in, it’s a team fight.” Sang-Hyeon randomly recalled something Tako once said. He laughed to himself and picked up two kids, one in each arm. "Okay, okay, let’s take a photo." The kids hugged him excitedly, squirming and squealing. It was loud enough to make his eardrums rattle, but Sang-Hyeon couldn’t help but smile. Children's laughter really was a natural remedy for the soul. "Uh... sorry! Just a quick photo, please." The kindergarten teacher apologized as she raised her camera. It looked like they were on a field trip. The camera, the matching backpacks, and the nearby cultural park all gave it away. "It’s fine. Take as many as you want." With the kids clinging to him, Sang-Hyeon grinned brightly for the photos. "Me too! I want a hug too!" He ended up taking several more photos in different poses. By the time they finished, a bus had already come and gone. "Everyone, say thank you~!" "You're so handsome!" "When I grow up, I wanna be Almond!" The next bus pulled up just as they wrapped up. Sang-Hyeon quickly jumped on board. The kids kept waving energetically from outside the window. Sang-Hyeon waved back for a long time with a smile. Then, he suddenly remembered— 'Ah, I should’ve asked for copies of the photos.' He would have liked the photos as a keepsake too. It was a little disappointing. After all that, Sang-Hyeon was running quite late. He hurried through an alleyway that anyone who had watched the Fake National Team series would recognize immediately. "... Looks like they’re all here already." He stopped in front of an old standalone house. It was the think tank’s headquarters. 'I wonder how they've been.' It had been so long since he opened this door.