Time for Market Research
Lee Tae-min. Twenty-four years old, pillar of the Republic of Korea. Army infantry. Discharged as a sergeant from the GOP Division. After nearly thirty days of end-of-service leave plus an epic final vacation, he bid farewell to his unit and left feeling light as a feather.
"Um, excuse me. Could I maybe get a photo?"
That's when the incident happened.
"What photo?"
"Uh, aren't you cosplaying? With the discharge cap and all, it looks like you went all out as an enlisted soldier instead of an NCO...?"
"Nah, I'm not."
"Huh...?"
Her reaction made him suddenly feel like the weird one. It took him about two days to figure out what was going on. And his conclusion?
'Ah! So the roles of men and women are kinda swapped here!'
Honestly, realizing that much was enough. There were more important things anyway.
'Whatever. Gotta make money.'
The basement studio reeked of mildew, and the place was a total wreck. That was his current situation. He'd barely snagged this listing on the last day of his leave to keep himself afloat.
'At least landing a part-time gig was easy...'
Truth be told, since the world had changed, he'd expected some dramatic upheaval. He half-feared walking down the street and hearing stuff like, "Whoa, check out those shoulder pads and that cake!"
But nothing like that happened. He drew stares now and then, got hit on for his number occasionally. The internet had changed a fair bit, but real life? That was the extent of it.
Oh, and of course, he hadn't given out his number! He'd panicked and turned her down at the time, but looking back, it was the right call.
'Words spread fast in this world.'
No reason for a streamer to slack on watching his mouth or behavior. Anyway, after adapting bit by bit like that, he stumbled into streaming.
The trigger? Nothing major.
—Ding-a-ling!
"Welcome..."
A convenience store part-timer's listless greeting was to thank. She had cute, round-faced short hair down to her shoulders, but the exhausted aura she radiated ruined it all.
'I was nervous my first time here too.'
'A guy's boldly shopping at a convenience store!? Have you ever seen such bravery!'
He'd braced for reactions like that, heart pounding, but nah. To the perpetually busy clerk handling stocking, sorting, and cleaning, he was just another customer.
'Watching again today, huh.'
He glanced her way while picking out a 2-for-1 zero cola. Yep, staring at the screen again. And that's what planted the seed: 'Maybe I should try streaming?'
When he set the item on the counter, the clerk startled and looked up. Her name tag read Lee Seong-ah.
"Ah! S-sorry!"
"No, no, it's fine."
No need to burn emotional energy when time wasn't tight. After paying, he gave a silent nod to the still-apologetic glances she shot his way and headed home.
—Hiss!
'That's the stuff.'
The true taste of labor. It washed away yesterday's public gaming hangover. For the record, it was 6 p.m. A streamer's "morning" after wrapping up a broadcast and crashing hard.
He habitually grabbed his phone and opened the streaming app.
'Tons of activity today too.'
Cam streams, game streams, Vtubers, you name it.
He scrolled toward the "Hiring Newbies!" banner.
Average one viewer. Three if lucky. But he didn't think it was pathetic. He'd been through it himself.
...
Memories of his early days flooded back. He could laugh it off now, but back then? Livid.
He lurked in a room with three viewers, not logged in. A Vtuber with a fresh, slightly stiff model was using a male voice.
"I'm checking out gyms."
"Ah... Oh! Aha! Tops? You mean tell the Tops to chop trees! Ah! Ahahaha!!"
Plop. One viewer gone. The avatar froze solid.
I get it. Been there.
'Funny how people think of this like a mega-corp.'
Compared to the big shots up top, he was small fry too. No need to act all enlightened about their shared lowly status.
'Not the time for this.'
He left the room and scrolled back up. A rainbow of content creators everywhere. Just chatting, ideal type world cup, dancing, karaoke, stocks, games. Endless variety, but viewer counts? Insane. Ten thousand, twenty thousand. Even lower down: eight, six, five thousand.
Numbers so massive it was hard to believe that many people watched streams.
'Seeing the gap like this kills any jealousy.'
If anything, he was grateful. A chance to pick up tricks.
'Start with a solid mid-tier gamer cam stream...'
A guy doing assorted games, cam on. Nickname: Ollollollo. Guys usually dolled up sharp for cam, but this one looked slovenly. The chat explained why.
"No, that's not it! I've been grinding hard lately! It's just my stamina..."
Compared to their razor-sharp backlash, his own viewers were angels. Maybe most had come to gawk at the drama.
"Argh, I'm telling you, it's unfair!"
The guy covered his face, fake-crying. This world terrified him. Still, it taught him the industry's flow.
'Keep promises, no matter what. They forgive once, but it builds up and explodes.'
Dealing with people, after all—
"Huh?"
The tide turned. Arrows that had targeted the streamer now flew at each other. Scarier still: the streamer dodging blame with a casual "Don't fight!"
He glimpsed the abyss and bailed. To another room.
"I'm telling you, it's not like that! We just bumped into each other and grabbed a bite—what's the big deal...?"
...Out again. Not the market research he had in mind.
Back to the original goal: he dipped into tons of streams, male and female alike. And reconfirmed it.
'A guy spilling military tales? Rare as hell.'
Blue ocean. Luck drew the viewers, but his personality kept them hooked.
His wandering mouse headed topward. A mega-corp dominating the site main. Even in a lull after Part 1 game wrapped, Patrose had 15,000 viewers. The insane streamer. Chair sat empty—she must've stepped away.
The chat buzzed like it might explode. This was 15k firepower. Nothing like his own chat's repeated "Minburger" spam.
'Gotta watch this one properly.'
He settled in to spectate. Soon, a woman plopped into the chair. Her bangs half-hid her eyes, parted in the middle; eyes slightly upturned. Fox-like face, and the voluptuous figure below drew more attention than expected. Even a noob like him had to admit: stunning.
"Heh, super upvote~"
Laid-back vibe.
"Part 1 was a new game. Rose score around 4?"
Her chat-handling was pro-level, her chill unmatched. Even nailed a donation response.
"DM me. I'll hook you up with dentures. And change that nick—stealing convenience store bubblegum makes you a real thief."
Perfectly optimized for the scene.
'Tap into the big corp pipeline.'
Silly thought. He was busy solidifying his own base. Getting invites to mega collabs was a pipe dream anyway.
'For now, dabble in games and hang with my viewers. That's plenty.'
Thus, he kept watching Patrose.
"Alright, intermission over—on to Part 2. Prepped Tot Saga, your all-time fave!"
"Ow, come on—you all love watching anyway!"
Smooth flow, average controls. Play that invited input without dragging.
"No way! Hold up! Is that right!? Feels wrong!"
"Ah, shut it all!!"
Even tossed in some tame WWE flair. Her whole vibe screamed "Hit the chat!" He cautiously joined in.
A sub-account chuckle, tossed lightly. He figured it'd drown, but by some fluke, Patrose spotted it.
"See? Someone's laughing!"
Just a passing shoutout, but it felt like being chosen. That's why people chat! Market research pays off.
He absorbed it all while watching. Then 8:50 p.m.
"Okay, let's wrap up here?"
Various reactions, but just part of the show. Patrose didn't bat an eye.
"Mission? Nah, can't. Gotta go for real."
"Not that! Anyway, bye! See ya tomorrow!"
Brushed it off vaguely; chat stirred mildly. "Byee," "Patbyee," "bb," endless farewells. Female streamers seemed unfazed by boyfriend rumors.
'Male streams were brutal about that earlier.'
Lessons learned. Closing music played, chat froze. He logged off, stretched, rolled his tired eyes. Clock read 9:05 p.m. Time to prep his own stream.
He'd set his rule: 10 p.m. start.
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—Shrrk!
The chroma key panel slid up. Gulp, gulp. The 2L water bottle on the desk emptied steadily.
"Phew... Now I can breathe."
Choi Ye-seul massaged her sharp fox-like eyes and rose with a sigh of relief. She killed the PC—couldn't stand the sight—and dove into bed.
Next up: her phone.
'Lemme see... 9:30 p.m. Perfect timing.'
She opened the streaming app—her stage. Checking feedback? Market research? Nope.
Habitually tapped her account. Not "Patrose," but the bizarre "Noinjeong Balttop Kkakki Doduk Itaemin."
'Right on time today too, right?'
She waited for one stream. The one that kicked off precisely at 10 p.m.: Ttaemin's.
'Not even a cam stream, but it's addictive.'
She killed time with shady excuses, counting down inwardly.
'3, 2, 1.'
10 p.m. sharp. Ttaemin went live.
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