"Orson, how about a drink with us?"
"How's the studio doing lately? Interested in joining us to pioneer the new game?"
A lavish championship anniversary banquet was being held in a five-star hotel, the club sparing no expense. Giants from inside and outside the esports scene streamed in one after another. Among them were even the wealthy sponsors who had once backed top guilds.
But their presence wasn't simply to celebrate—it was to probe whether Orson might consider a return.
"Cough… sorry, everyone. It's not like the old days anymore. These hands can barely flip a pan now, let alone wield a staff in-game."
Surrounded like the moon among stars, Orson took the wet towel Riley handed him and wiped away the sweat pouring down. He felt utterly out of place.
