It's Not Because of You!
"It's not because of you guys!"
"I didn't put this on to show you guys."
I wrapped the cardigan I was already wearing tighter around myself and tried desperately to argue my case, but the chat kept right on rolling.
"Ugh, this is so unfair. Just hear me ou—"
A donation message cut me off mid-sentence.
"…Thanks for the donation, YY… wait, no — I did not do my makeup. What kind of nonsense is that."
"Ugh, this is pissing me off. Just give me a second to explain."
"AAAAA EVERYONE SHUT UP!"
Chat was flying past too fast to even read, and thousand-won donations kept exploding without the slightest regard for my sanity. There was no way I could process the reactions pouring in from both sides at once, so I started digging through the Shashark interface.
Found it.
The thread of a loophole that could crack this whole situation open.
The chat finally went quiet.
"Look, everyone. I never planned on turning the cam on from the start. And I did not dress up cute because I expected to turn it on."
"Thanks for the donation, YY… actually, no. You shut up for a second too."
I poked around the settings some more and found the donation pause function. Once I'd stopped every single thing that could make noise, I finally reclaimed a moment of silence. My eyes drifted up to the viewer count above the stream.
Viewers: 130
…Why is the viewer count higher than when I was doing Riohi.
"Alright, everyone. The reason I showed up in this outfit is not for you. And that reason is…?"
I stood up from my chair and held up the shopping bag I'd just bought.
"These are clothes I bought right before going live. The outfit I'm wearing now is from that same haul — I just came straight here because changing was too much of a hassle. Got it?"
With that little explanation out of the way, I reopened chat and donations.
BAM!
I couldn't hold back the rising fury and slammed my desk.
"Ugh, I am NOT a tsundere! Dammit—"
"Thanks for the thousand won, YY, but what the hell does 'brewing Yuksu' even mean? You've been saying that this whole time."
Gibberish kept popping up that I couldn't make sense of. Some new slang that got invented while I wasn't looking?
That didn't track, though — I'd been watching streams right up until the moment I turned into a girl.
Or maybe it was jargon that only got used on girl-cam streams…
…Reeled them in? Me?
I didn't do anything!
"What the fuck — when did I reel anyone in?! You guys threw money at me first!"
These people were seriously off. The more I cursed, the more they loved it.
The whole situation was starting to feel weird, so I changed the subject.
"Uh… okay, then shall we hop into the next game? Gotta finish placements."
The vibe was completely different from before.
Barely thirty minutes ago, half the chat would groan the second I said I was starting a game. Now all one hundred thirty people currently in the stream were locked onto the matchmaking screen without a single complaint.
Don't tell me…
These people didn't come for my skills. They came for my face?
…
"Ugh, dammit, why won't that thing die? Is that a bug?"
Placement game number four was an absolute dogshit loss.
How exactly do both top and bot get their heads popped three minutes in?
I ran around trying to salvage the game however I could, snatching up kills, but the limits of an assassin were crystal clear. The moment the enemy tank decided to babysit their ADC, I couldn't do a thing — just evaporated on the spot.
And just like that, the game exploded.
Trembling.
Both of my tightly clenched fists were shaking.
It may have been three years ago, but as someone who'd hit Diamond, there was no way I was taking this sitting down.
"Ugh, hopping into the next game right now."
"No. I'm hitting Emerald and then ending the stream."
The viewers were scratching at my insides. And I was thoroughly scratched.
I hit the match accept button and locked in a game.
"Guys, so far I've only been playing assassins — want me to unseal something?"
"Ha. Please. This game, I will show you an unconditional win."
And the champion I locked in was none other than—
Twisted Fate.
A pure walking mage who survives on raw movement alone, without a single dash.
"I'll win no matter what they pick."
And at that exact moment, the enemy champion locked in: Zed.
"Looks like they picked a half-baked counter. I'll make them feel the wall."
I breezily ignored the chat full of cheers and insults and moved to the game lobby screen — and that was when the mood in chat took a sharp, uneasy turn.
"Huh? Why the sudden doom and gloom?"
"Sniper14? What's wrong with Sniper?"
Bang-peul.
It meant a toxic player who watches the opponent's stream to precisely track their position and skill cooldowns in real time.
So those kinds of scumbags still existed these days.
And of all times, I'd run into one during my final placement match.
"What rank is Jjae, anyway? He wouldn't have matched his tier just to snipe me, right?"
"What, so without Bang-peul he's Plat at best?"
"Eh, that level seems doable?"
Without a single dissenting voice, everyone was already assuming I'd lose.
Sure, the advantage Bang-peul gave you was massive. Knowing the opponent's position in near real-time meant the gank threat on every lane dropped dramatically.
But the champion I'd picked had enough utility and advantages to cover for exactly that.
I had no confidence.
No confidence in losing, that is.
"Everyone — want to make a bet with me?"
The second I mentioned a bet, things started happening at lightning speed. The number next to the mission kept climbing.
Fifty thousand won in prize money, stacked in an instant. Time to put up my end of the deal.
"I'll do whatever penalty you guys decide — that roulette thing?"
The terms of the bet might have looked a little unreasonable.
But a crisis is just an opportunity in disguise. If I won this game, I could reclaim the title of a skilled streamer who'd beaten a toxic stream sniper.
"If he's doing Bang-peul, that means the sniper is listening to me right now, right?"
I opened my mouth with absolute confidence.