A 50,000-Won Reaction

"…."

I let out a small sigh and deleted them all. At the same time, I marked them as spam and blocked the senders so none of them could ever email me again.

It was a day off. Having successfully wrapped up the sponsored stream from Nvision, I had decided to finally give myself a proper break.

And yet, first thing on this precious morning off, I got hit with emails like these.

I'd only checked my inbox in case some other business offer might have come in the way the Nvision ad had — and instead I'd gotten an eyeful of pure garbage. This was exactly why I hadn't listed my email address in the first place.

It had gotten a lot worse lately. Back when I first started streaming in this body — the moment people found out I was a girl — emails like these, the kind that soured your mood just looking at them, had poured in without missing a single day.

They'd quieted down over time, only for my inbox to explode all over again after the wardrobe mishap that exposed my chest. That was why I'd taken the address down… and now that I'd put it back up for sponsorships, here we were again. Looking back, the peaceful stretch hadn't lasted very long at all.

I hadn't even been streaming that long, and I already felt like I understood the hardships of being a broadcaster. If it was this bad for me, how many emails a day were the other streamers getting — especially the women who'd shown their faces?

"…Should I just hang them out to dry on stream?"

The thought crossed my mind for a second.

Pull up my inbox right there on stream, leak the email addresses, and publicly execute them one by one. Hey, so-and-so, you think sending emails like this is cute?

Public executions had been a form of entertainment — content, even — since ancient times.

Just look at medieval history. The moment word got out that some criminal was getting their head chopped off, people would flock to the square like it was the only spectacle their dull lives had to offer.

So as live content, it had potential. But I hesitated for another reason.

What if it wasn't an execution at all — what if it turned into a reward? I'd spent enough years as an internet ghost to have seen every kind of person imaginable.

And from where I was sitting, these types might actually enjoy getting cursed out by thousands of people on a live broadcast.

Anyone who sent emails like this was already several ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steps removed from normal. Call it a total lack of empathy.

The kind of psychos who got off on the idea that I controlled this person's emotions! whenever someone got angry or upset.

People whose entire way of thinking was wired differently from regular folks. You'd be lucky if they felt anything other than pure thrill — shame wasn't even on the menu.

"Just don't engage."

So blocking them and moving on was the best option. If I were signed to a company and could actually sue, maybe it'd be different. But I wasn't.

There was a famous saying for a reason: Don't feed the idiots. Proverbs that stuck around this long always had a point.

I finished clearing out the rest of the inbox, then tipped my chair back and started spinning lazy circles in front of the computer.

Let's see… I'd already caught up on all the Vtube videos and left heart reactions on every comment. Inbox was just checked. I'd gone for a walk first thing this morning and even run into Sihyeon and her uncle-slash-editor, Kim Jaejun.

"…I've got nothing to do?"

A rare day off. It was two in the afternoon, and every task I needed to handle was already done.

I had hit a wall: there was absolutely nothing left to occupy me.

The old me had never been much of a planner, and I certainly hadn't been the diligent type.

On days off I'd sleep more than ten hours, wake up, lie in bed cackling at gallery posts, eat when I got hungry enough, and then play Abyss. That was the routine.

But I couldn't fall back on that old pattern now. For one thing, this body made sleeping in basically impossible.

It was ridiculously healthy — six or seven hours and my eyes would snap open like I'd gotten a full night's rest.

That was how the morning walks had started.

I mean, if I was already up, I might as well get some fresh air, right? Part of me found it annoying, but another part figured that since things had turned out this way, I might as well try living healthy.

Doing it every day had turned it into my new day-off routine, the same way the old habits used to be.

Anyway — walk done, holiday chores finished — I genuinely had nothing left to do.

I thought about taking a leisurely nap, but sleep wouldn't come. Back in the day I would've fired up Abyss or scrolled the galleries at a time like this.

But I'd been playing so much Abyss lately that it didn't appeal, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and the galleries had some weird drama floating around, so I'd only been checking in occasionally to keep tabs.

"Hmm…."

Starting some other game felt like I'd have to turn on a stream. Like I ought to be bouncing off chat and farming Vtube clips.

That defeated the whole point of a day off, so it was out.

At this point, my remaining options were pretty thin.

I took a bite of the still-warm bagel that had just been delivered and pulled up the Twish site.

My follow list was packed with streamers — way more than before. That was thanks to the recent tournament.

But it was still early; the real wave of streams didn't kick off until evening. Not a single person on my list was live.

I'd been hoping to hang out in someone's chat and watch a stream, but nobody was on. I clicked my tongue in disappointment and scrolled down.

Nothing particularly grabbed me. I set the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠category filter to Abyss, and a flood of streams appeared.

It really hit me again just how many people were broadcasting. And at the same time, how lucky I'd been.

There were dozens of Abyss streams sitting at zero or one viewer.

Some had cams on, some didn't; some had their own animated avatars floating on screen.

I found myself browsing the low-viewer streams in a way I normally never did.

"Hm?"

One stream in particular caught my eye.

"Oh-ho…."

Now here was someone with the right idea.

Being a newbie was already a plus — and she was practicing Camilla on top of that?

Genuinely intrigued, I clicked into her stream.

"Ack, no! Wrong button! Ugh…."

A somewhat high-pitched voice, but not an unpleasant one.

She had one of those virtual avatars that were popular these days floating in the corner like a cam. Judging by how the avatar moved, it was tracking her expressions and body — and you could tell she was concentrating hard.

Why was my name coming up here? That question got answered by what Ha-im said next.

"Hehe, but still. I fell for it after watching the tournament. I want to play Camilla like that too."

"Huh…."

Moments like this really drove home how big an impact the tournament had made. Brand-new Abyss players, brand-new Camilla users being born right before my eyes.

Feeling both satisfied and oddly proud, I settled in to watch Ha-im's stream. I even sat up straighter, the way you do when you've found exactly the right broadcast.

"Aaaah, get away! Ah, I died again…. Wait, why is that old man so strong? Am I just that bad? Hmph, maybe…."

"Everyone's being way too harsh on a newbie."

The title had said day twelve, right? Ha-im's play was unmistakably raw — she couldn't even handle the basic controls. It had that distinct newbie smell to it.

But watching a newbie flail around was half the fun. These people clearly didn't appreciate what they had.

I was about to type a chat message encouraging her, telling her she was doing fine, when—

"What the hell."

The chat was flying by, and it was drowning in raw, vicious abuse aimed at Ha-im.

The atmosphere turned ice-cold in an instant. Ha-im must have seen the messages too — her voice started to tremble.

"Ahaha, freeload? Please don't say such mean things. I just meant I started Camilla after watching Kayak…."

The virtual avatar pulled an awkward expression. Getting hit with abuse out of nowhere like that — she'd clearly taken a real hit to the heart.

"Why isn't she banning them?"

The other viewers seemed to feel the same way I did, chiming in with similar reactions. But Ha-im just gently talked them down too.

"Everyone's getting too worked up. Please calm down and watch my stream. You too, TeamTeam — don't be mad, just watch with us."

Ha-im's avatar smiled good-naturedly. Her mediation settled the chat for a moment, and people went back to talking about the stream itself.

"Man…."

I had a pretty good idea why Ha-im was acting this way. She simply didn't have enough people.

Her current viewer count sat at seventeen. And of those, only about five were even chatting — including the one who'd been cussing her out.

To Ha-im, every single person watching and typing was precious. That was why she couldn't crack down hard even when a viewer was being toxic.

The sorrow of a small-time streamer, I supposed. Having grasped her particular hardship, I watched on in silence with a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Ugh."

Still — in my stream, that would've been an instant ban, you bastard. Dragging my name into it to pull aggro?

I opened a notepad and jotted down the guy's username. And that was when—

"Okay, that's crossing the line."

With a cold expression, I picked up my phone.

And loaded up the ammo I needed for a donation.

Bam-ba-bam-bam-bam-bam—!

Moments later, a grand sound effect rang out across the stream.