Hand Cam On

Son-cam. Let's go.

Son-cam.

That was exactly what it sounded like—a camera pointed at the hands.

It was the best possible proof that you were actually playing the game yourself.

In other words, the chat was demanding just one thing.

Show us proof that you're the one playing.

"I just have to show my hands, right?"

"Who's scared?"

Honestly, I didn't want to turn the cam on.

Even if only my hands would show, the idea of putting any part of myself on the broadcast screen still felt wrong.

But right now, I had no choice.

I had only just started meeting the mission conditions.

If I lost these people now, the uptime timer might reset from zero.

"Hold on. I'm setting up the cam."

"I'm not running, damn it. Just shut up for a second."

Every single word I said got spammed across the chat.

Leaving those guys to it, I pulled the webcam out of the shopping bag—the one that had come free with the used computer.

A black camera about the size of my palm.

The clamp that was supposed to grip the monitor was so worn it wobbled, and the lens still had clear fingerprints left by the previous owner.

Still, it was the only camera I had.

I wiped the lens with the resigned air of someone eating mustard while crying, then fixed the webcam on top of the monitor.

The clamp kept tilting sideways, but after adjusting the angle over and over I finally got it so that only the keyboard and mouse on the desk were in frame.

On the screen sat a black keyboard and mouse, and my two hands resting on top of them.

Once I confirmed the angle was right, I plugged the webcam's USB into the tower.

A cheerful notification sound rang out, and the son-cam feed appeared in one corner of the broadcast.

"Done? You people talk way too damn much."

For a second the chat froze solid.

Then, one second later—

Chat messages poured in like mad.

"Hands are hands. Why the hell are you making such a fuss?"

Crack.

Heat surged up inside me in an instant.

"Just wait right there. I'll show you."

I launched the game again and queued mid.

A match popped almost immediately, but the enemy snagged Zed first.

"Who said I was a one-trick?"

Without a second of hesitation I locked in another assassin.

I forced myself to ignore the brain-melting chat and locked my eyes on the game screen.

The moment the game started I sprinted mid.

Right then a strange sound played and a notification popped up on the stream.

"…Is that real? Does that actually pay money?"

Judging by the notification and the chat reactions, it was real.

In other words, every kill I got before level six was worth five thousand won?

"Watch closely. I'm putting my entire streaming career on the line."

I was sick of being called a helper user every five seconds.

With the determination to show everything in this one game, the laning phase began.

I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to play carefully in the absolute early game.

Katarina only started getting strong at level three.

Until then, rather than forcing fights, it was enough just to not miss minions and to bait out the enemy's skills.

I kept my eyes locked only on Zed's movements.

The instant he threw his shuriken, I flicked the mouse sideways.

The shuriken skimmed past me by a hair.

I ignored the few who still refused to believe and kept playing.

I dodged every single Q and WQ poke until both of us hit level three.

From here on, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had the advantage.

The moment the enemy misjudged the distance—

"Thank you for the five thousand won~!"

I called the collection first, then dove in.

E straight into his back, scooped up the dagger I'd planted, and flashed to dodge his skill at the same time.

The follow-up Q dagger pickup triggered Electrocute and Ignite, leaving Zed in tatters; he flashed away, but—

I still had E left.

"See that?"

"That's what I said from the beginning."

It felt like my injustice had been washed clean, but a few new messages still carried doubt.

My stomach was turning again when a familiar nickname appeared in chat.

The very first viewer who had set the mission—Hibung Goes Into the Bag.

Spite flared up.

"Alright, Hibung-whatever-your-name-is. I'm going to shake every last coin out of your soul."

Getting a solo kill and then just going home… that was what amateurs did.

Pros thought about diving bot with the jungler.

The second I confirmed our jungler was on a bottom path, I spammed pings like a maniac.

Movement pings landing at the same time.

Rammus was spinning his body and charging bot.

A pretty obvious gank route—the enemies would dodge it for sure.

So I went for the backline.

"Just following ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the jungler from behind is amateur hour, right?"

I looped around the river and dug in behind the enemy turret.

The two enemies, already beaten half to death by Rammus and our bot duo, were trying to recall under tower with barely any health left.

I closed in behind them without a second of hesitation.

EW, E.

Chat flooded in.

I spoke again in a proud voice.

"Hibung-whatever, if you're scared you can just pay the fifteen thousand now and turn the mission off."

While the other viewers roasted him and waited—

I could only be grateful that he was keeping the bet alive.

After that the game was easy.

Back to mid for more kills until level six.

Then into the enemy jungle with our jungler for another kill.

Straight down to bot for a double kill on top of that.

Before I knew it nine minutes and thirty seconds had passed, and by then I already had eight kills total.

At some point every mention of helpers had vanished from chat.

Even Indie Streamer Explorer, the one who first raised the helper suspicion, was now just—

—worshipping me.

By twenty minutes a highway had opened to the enemy's second mid turret.

Their surrender ended the game a little anticlimactically.

While the worship messages kept rolling in, Indie Streamer Explorer posted again.

The other viewers immediately started roasting him.

But I actually felt grateful toward him.

"It's fine. Thanks to you I've been able to keep over ten viewers, right?"

That was the truth.

Without him the ten-viewer mission wouldn't even have started.

Thanks to that, my mission timer now sat at—

—only three minutes left, and the chat was full of reactions to what I'd just said.

Just more worship comments.

Watching the endless praise made my face itch for no reason, so I hurriedly changed the subject.

"Come to think of it, Hibung-whatever, thank you too. I'll gladly take that forty thousand."

But nothing appeared in chat.

"…Hibung-nim?"

I called again, but there was no answer.

Only then did ominous reactions start flooding the chat.

"Aargh!!"

I couldn't hold back the anger and lightly slammed the desk.

The impact shook the webcam that had been barely perched on the monitor.

Thud.

The camera tumbled onto the desk and the screen flipped completely upside down.

"Ah… sorry."

I hurriedly picked it up and set it back on the monitor—

and that was when I realized my mistake.

My eyes met the lens.

I spun the cam away in a panic, but the chat was already—

Ah, I'm tired.