shuhaige
Chapter 250
Chapter 250
At the side of the lobby, near the interview setup, there wasn't a chair in sight. So, fans of the EW Club had gathered, standing, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them.
At this moment, the fans, both men and women, had tears brimming in their eyes as they watched Floyd. The male fans were trying hard to put on a brave face, not uttering a word, while the female fans covered their mouths, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Cordelia was momentarily taken aback, unsure of what was happening.
Yates, however, turned his gaze towards Floyd.
The host, clearly shocked by Floyd's recent statement, asked, "What did you say?"
Floyd, ever the charismatic presence, his voice smooth and deep, said, "I said, the five of us from EW Club are retiring, effective today."
Yates, who was about to approach, stopped dead in his tracks, disbelief written all over his face.
Fans from below shouted, "Dark Lord, are you abandoning us?!"
The host inquired further, "Including yourself?"
Floyd nodded, "Yes."
He lowered his gaze, lifting the trophy in his hand, "I'm fortunate, retiring at the peak of glory, unlike Waller and the Archer who were forced to retire."
The fans below protested loudly, "No way, Dark Lord, you can't retire!"
The host then asked, "Is it because all your teammates are retiring, that you've decided to retire as well?"
Floyd shook his head, "No, it's for personal reasons."This is from NôvelDrama.Org.
The crowd erupted, "What personal reasons? Why? Dark Lord, we love you so much, how can you leave us?!"
Floyd lowered his eyes again, taking the microphone from the host, and spoke, "Five years ago, on the first of February, the EW Club was formed, and I became a member."
He paused, his gaze finding Yates through the crowd.
"Three years ago today, I won my first championship, and this year, my fourth in a row. But truth be told, I've never been passionate about esports. Some of the criticism from naysayers was true; my heart wasn't in it."
The fans were visibly shocked.
Floyd continued, "I've let you all down."
The fans started crying, with someone shouting, "No, we love you just the way you are, careless yet unbeatable!"
Floyd was known as the Dark Lord of the scene.
With popularity, came detractors.
Some had even compiled videos of Floyd's gameplay, pointing out moments where he could've done better but seemingly didn't put in his full effort. Now, it all made sense.
He wasn't driven by a love for the game.
The host, taken aback, asked, "Then why did you choose this career?"
Floyd smiled, "To fulfill my brother's dream."
He looked towards Yates, raising the trophy, "Five years ago, I upset him, left him on purpose. I wanted to exchange four championships for his forgiveness."
Upon hearing this, Yates's eyes welled up with tears.
He clenched his fists tightly, stunned.
All these years, he had harbored resentment.
Yet, when Floyd revealed his true reason, while Yates could understand the secrecy, deep down, resentment still simmered.
He had always wished for honesty, regardless of the consequences.
But Floyd and their grandfather had kept silent, until now.
When Floyd produced three more championship medals, offering them to Yates as a gesture of reconciliation, Yates found himself speechless.
"Men don't cry easily," Yates thought, holding back his tears, his eyes bloodshot.
Suddenly, he turned and ran backstage.
All thoughts of forgiveness seemed so trivial now.
scene closely, claiming to hate
He had always followed the ne
Floyd, even becoming one of detractors, only to find pride in Floyd's victories.
And when he learned of their team's accident, his heart had sunk, only to practice relentlessly upon knowing Floyd was safe.
His recent obsession with improving his gameplay was all for Floyd's dream.
Yates covered his eyes, hiding his tears.
"Yatesy," Floyd's voice came from behind.
Quickly wiping his tears, Yates turned to face him, the four medals in Floyd's hand a testament to their shared history.
The medals, a symbol of past glories, now in his grasp, felt like a soothing balm to his wounded heart.
Yates, unable to hold back any longer, let his tears fall freely.
Floyd, panicking, stammered, "Yatesy, I'm sorry."
Yates, voice breaking, responded, "No, I'm the one who should be sorry."
In the face of what mattered, Floyd's secrets held weight.
Grasping the medals tightly, Yates felt their warmth, as if melting away years of misunderstanding.
"Thank you, brother," he managed to say.
Floyd, ruffling his hair, replied, "Between us, there's no need for thanks."
Yates nodded, then asked, "What will you do now, after leaving esports?"
Floyd lowered his gaze and finally spoke, "I was planning on hitting the road, but the rookies in the team aren't quite there yet. With over three months of training left before the next season, I figured I'd stick around as a coach, help train the new blood."
He then added, "Yatesy poured money into the club. Can't just watch it go down the drain, right?"
Hiding in the distance, Cordelia watched the two of them, feeling an unusual sense of urgency for the first time.
Why hasn't Little Flame asked about the mask yet?