From A Producer To A Chapter 438: Win

Chapter 438: Win

A/N: So made a huge mistake when releasing the Chapter this is actually Chapter 439 and the next is 438.....

The noise doesn’t settle after the first race.

It grows.

Word spreads fast when sothing unexpected happens, and his presence alone has already shifted the mood of the entire venue. People are still talking about it, still pointing, still trying to get a better look whenever he moves. Phones stay up longer now. Heads turn quicker.

Dayo keeps his head down as he walks back toward the staging area.

Water still clings to his shoulders. His breathing has evened out, but not completely. There’s a rhythm he usually finds after a race—a clean reset, like everything falls back into place.

It hasn’t happened yet.

Jeffrey is beside him, still riding the high from the last race.

"You know they weren’t ready for that," he says, shaking his head, grinning. "They really thought you weren’t showing up."

Dayo gives a small shrug, pulling a dry shirt over his head.

"It’s just a race."

Jeffrey laughs.

"Yeah, okay. Just a race."

There’s a pause as they move, both of them stepping into the holding area again. The energy here is tighter now. More focused. The next event is already lining up.

The 200 ters.

Jeffrey rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms out.

"This one..." he says, exhaling. "This one is different."

Dayo glances at him.

"How?"

Jeffrey looks at him like the answer should be obvious.

"I’m in it."

Dayo smirks slightly.

"You were in the last one too."

"Not like this."

There’s sothing underneath it now. Not just excitent. Sothing sharper. Sothing that’s been building for years.

Dayo sees it.

Doesn’t call it out.

Just nods once.

"Alright."

—

They’re called out together.

The shift is imdiate.

The mont they step back into the open, the noise spikes again, louder than before. The crowd has grown even more restless, more aware of what’s about to happen.

The announcer’s voice cuts through everything, amplified, deliberate.

"Ladies and gentlen..."

The tone alone is enough to pull attention.

"We’re about to witness a very special event."

People start turning fully now. Conversations drop. Caras rise again.

"In this 200-ter freestyle... we have sothing you don’t see every day."

A pause. Built on purpose.

"In lane four—Dayo JD."

The reaction hits instantly.

A wave of sound.

Louder than before.

Recognition, excitent, disbelief all mixing together.

"Also known to many of you... as JD the singer."

That gets another reaction. Bigger this ti. A different kind of energy layered into it.

"And in lane five..."

Another pause.

"His brother—Jeffrey."

The crowd shifts again. Surprise this ti. Then curiosity. Then excitent building all over again.

"Two brothers. Sa race. Sa water."

Dayo steps forward, lifting a hand slightly in acknowledgnt. Not playing it up, just enough to et the mont.

Jeffrey raises both hands briefly, grinning, feeding off it more openly.

The announcer keeps going, voice rising with the atmosphere.

"This... is history in the making."

Dayo glances sideways at Jeffrey.

Jeffrey leans closer just enough.

"I’m not holding back."

Dayo lets out a quiet breath, a hint of a smile.

"I wouldn’t expect you to."

Jeffrey makes a small gesture with his hand—quick, playful, like a challenge thrown without words.

Dayo mirrors it slightly, a flick of his fingers.

The crowd eats it up.

Noise swells again.

But even in the middle of it—

Dayo’s eyes move.

Scanning.

Rows of faces again.

Left. Right.

Back.

He doesn’t see her.

Not anywhere.

He pauses half a second longer than he should.

Then shrugs it off.

Not visibly. Just inside.

Focus.

—

"Take your marks."

The call drops everything back down.

The noise fades into a low hum again.

Dayo steps onto the block. Adjusts his footing. Toes gripping the edge. Hands loose.

Jeffrey settles into position in the next lane.

You can feel the difference in him now. The excitent has sharpened into sothing more controlled. Still there but focused.

Dayo leans forward.

This is familiar.

This is structure.

Sothing he can control.

"Set."

Silence tightens.

Everything pulls inward.

Then—

The gun fires.

—

They hit the water almost at the sa ti.

A clean entry.

Minimal splash.

Dayo drives forward imdiately, body cutting through the water with practiced efficiency.

The first stretch is always about establishing rhythm.

Pull. Kick. Breathe.

Pull. Kick. Breathe.

Jeffrey is right there.

Closer than before.

Dayo feels it without looking.

The water shifts differently when soone is close. Pressure changes. Resistance feels tighter.

Jeffrey is pushing hard.

Harder than the last race.

Dayo keeps his pace steady.

Doesn’t rush it.

Doesn’t spike early.

Halfway to the wall—

A flicker again.

Unwanted.

Her face.

That mont.

That stillness in the crowd.

His timing slips for a fraction.

Not enough for anyone else to see clearly.

But he feels it.

His stroke goes slightly heavier.

He corrects imdiately.

Pull. Kick. Breathe.

Focus.

They reach the wall.

Flip.

Push off.

—

Second half.

This is where control matters.

Where races are decided.

Jeffrey surges.

You can feel it.

A deliberate push.

He’s going for it now.

Dayo senses it, adjusts.

Not panicked.

Just aware.

He increases his tempo slightly. Not fully opening up, but enough to maintain the edge.

The water churns harder now.

Both of them driving forward.

Stroke for stroke.

The gap is there—

But it’s smaller than it should be.

Dayo knows it.

He can close it completely.

He can break away.

But sothing holds.

Not physically.

ntally.

A restraint.

A fraction of hesitation.

Pull. Kick. Breathe.

The wall cos fast.

Final strokes.

Dayo pushes through.

Touches.

—

The sound hits imdiately.

Loud.

Sharp.

Explosive.

Dayo lifts his head, pulling in air, water running down his face.

He blinks once, twice, clearing his vision.

Turns toward the board.

The tis flash up.

Dayo — 47.82s

Jeffrey — 49.61s

Strong.

Very strong.

Close to elite international timing.

Close—but not record level.

Not his best.

Dayo stares at it.

Long enough to register it fully.

Then exhales.

"Damn."

Not loud.

Just under his breath.

He pulls himself up, resting his arms on the edge for a second.

Jeffrey surfaces beside him, breathing heavier, but smiling wide.

"Yo—"

He shakes his head, laughing.

"Okay... okay."

Dayo glances at him.

"You almost had ."

Jeffrey scoffs imdiately.

"Almost? Bro—don’t do that."

Dayo pushes himself out of the water, grabbing a towel.

"I’m serious."

Jeffrey climbs out too, dripping, still catching his breath.

"You always say that."

Dayo wipes his face, then looks at him properly.

"You pushed."

Jeffrey nods, still smiling.

"Yeah. I did."

A beat.

Then he leans closer, lowering his voice slightly.

"But I still lost."

Dayo shrugs.

"That happens."

Jeffrey lets out a short laugh.

"See? This is what I’m talking about."

They start walking off together.

"You win like it’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing."

"Then act like it matters."

Dayo glances sideways at him.

"It matters."

Jeffrey studies him again, slower this ti.

Then shakes his head, half amused, half frustrated.

"You’re impossible."

Dayo smirks faintly.

"You’re just slow."

Jeffrey stops mid-step, pointing at him.

"Excuse ?"

Dayo keeps walking.

"I said what I said."

Jeffrey jogs to catch up.

"I’m telling you—one day, I’m taking one of these from you."

Dayo nods.

"Good. That’s the goal."

Jeffrey exhales, shaking his head again.

"Man..."

Then, quieter—

"I hate how calm you are."

Dayo doesn’t respond imdiately.

They walk a few steps in silence.

Then—

"You get used to it."

Jeffrey snorts.

"I don’t think I want to."

—

They reach the side area again.

People are watching more openly now.

Recognition has settled in fully.

Dayo doesn’t engage it.

He sits, leaning forward slightly, towel around his shoulders.

Jeffrey drops beside him.

"You know what’s crazy?" Jeffrey says.

"What?"

"I gave everything in that race."

Dayo nods.

"I saw that."

"And you didn’t."

Dayo’s hand pauses briefly against the towel.

Just for a second.

Then continues.

Jeffrey watches him carefully now.

"You didn’t," he repeats, quieter.

Dayo doesn’t look at him.

Just shakes his head slightly.

"It’s not like that."

"It is."

A pause.

Dayo exhales.

"Focus on your own race."

Jeffrey leans back, still looking at him.

"I am."

Then softer—

"That’s why I can tell."

Dayo finally glances at him.

There’s no argunt in his face.

Just acknowledgnt.

But he doesn’t confirm it.

Doesn’t deny it either.

Jeffrey lets it go.

For now.

—

A few minutes pass.

Noise settles into a steady background again.

Dayo’s breathing has fully cald now.

His body is fine.

His timing—

Not where it should be.

He leans back slightly, eyes drifting toward the stands again.

Scanning.

Still.

Nothing.

No sign of her.

The absence sits heavier now.

He doesn’t understand why.

He just knows it does.

—

A phone buzz cuts through it.

Sharp.

Close.

Dayo looks down.

His phone.

Screen lighting up.

Sharon.

He stares at it for a second.

Jeffrey notices.

"Who’s that?"

Dayo doesn’t answer imdiately.

Just picks up the phone.

Looks at the na again.

Then presses accept.

Brings it to his ear.

"Yeah."

A pause.

His expression doesn’t change much.

But sothing in his eyes shifts.

Jeffrey watches him now, quietly.

Trying to read it.

Dayo stands slowly, turning slightly away as he listens.

"Okay," he says after a mont.

Another pause.

Then—

"I hear you."

He lowers the phone.

Doesn’t move imdiately.

Jeffrey leans forward slightly.

"What happened?"

Dayo looks back at him.

For a second, it seems like he might say sothing.

Then he just shakes his head once.

"Nothing."

But it doesn’t land.

Not this ti.

And they both know it.

The noise continues around them.

The competition moves forward.

But sothing else has just stepped in.

And it hasn’t settled yet.