Team Streamer
The next morning.
...I'm so sleepy.
I'd managed to wake up, but my eyes kept trying to drift shut again. I forced myself to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and finally felt something resembling consciousness return.
Mom and Dad had already left for work before dawn, as usual. I sat down to the breakfast they'd prepared and switched on my phone.
What is with all these notifications.
Dozens of alerts bearing the SNS logo were stacked on my screen. Curious, I opened them.
Twenty thousand?
The SNS account I'd created just last night already had over twenty thousand followers — and the terrifying part was that the number was still climbing in real time.
I checked the post I'd uploaded yesterday and immediately spotted something off.
Wait. I uploaded a video?
I'd been half-asleep when I posted it, and instead of using my phone's regular camera, I'd used the one built into the SNS app. Apparently I'd held down the capture button without realizing it and uploaded a video.
The good news: nothing weird or problematic had been caught on camera. It was just a slightly elongated shot of my face.
Still, twenty thousand overnight is way too many.
Most LCK players sat somewhere between ten and fifty thousand followers. Even among Worlds champions, only a handful of the most marketable stars cracked a hundred thousand. Raising my profile through streaming was one thing — jumping to twenty thousand in less than a day was something else entirely.
A moment later, I found out why.
Someone had lifted my video, slapped a currently trending song over it, and turned it into a Reel — and the algorithm had absolutely eaten it up. A clip posted seven hours ago was already past eight hundred thousand views.
Am I supposed to be happy about this?
At least the person who'd stolen my footage had a shred of conscience — they'd tagged my account. The followers still pouring in were almost certainly coming from there.
I finished my breakfast while turning over what to do about it. I'd nearly cleaned my plate when my phone buzzed.
"Hello?"
"Did you by any chance make an SNS account?"
"Yeah, that was me."
I walked her through the whole story. When I finished, the manager let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.
"Well, it's not like the video was made maliciously, and it's good publicity for the team..."
"That's what I figured too."
"So should we leave it up, or do you want me to ask them to take it down?"
Accounts that reposted content like that never took anything down just because you asked. And looking at the results, there was nothing to lose — so I chose to leave it alone.
"At least nothing actually went wrong. When I got to work this morning I thought something serious had happened."
She'd probably assumed it was a fake account impersonating me, not one I'd made myself. She said she had to get back to work and hung up.
...Work?
It was eight o'clock on a Saturday morning.
And she was working...?
Was that the kind of grind it took to earn the highest salary on the team?
"Peel off here and watch the kiting!"
"I can drop ult for you."
"If Renata dies, the fight's over."
"Can Yone shove up?"
A tense teamfight. Calls from my teammates filled the Rift. Listening and responding was important, sure —
Now.
— but to hit the peak, I had to take the angle only I could see.
"I'm going on Aphelios with ult!"
A straight rectangular zone bloomed in front of the enemy ADC Aphelios as Yone's ultimate fired. From Aphe's perspective, of course he'd expected me to dive the overextended enemy Ahri — but the moment both their ADC and I had magic resist items online, deleting the ADC came first.
With their carry cut down, the enemy team got swept and had no choice but to give up the Nexus.
"Nice."
"Everyone played well."
"Hope next season's an ADC meta too."
"The ADC meta you want? That doesn't exist, Garak."
With about two weeks left until the promotion matches, we'd managed to take a scrim win over RG — a team preparing for the LCK selection tournament.
When the synergy clicks, we're strong.
After watching my teammates all through Summer, I'd concluded that once we synced up, the chemistry was genuinely good. A top laner who could tank even the greediest, most "dump the leftovers on him" draft. A jungler who loved to take over games with raw physical talent. An ADC who preferred carry champions, and a support who pushed utility supports to their absolute limit. For this season, it was a very well-suited roster.
The problem is...
Put another way: a top who couldn't carry. A rookie jungler who snowballed into oblivion the moment he got behind. A bot lane duo whose laning was shaky at best. The floor on this team was catastrophically low.
Good thing I'm here.
Still, as long as I held the center from mid, they could at least put in a full share and not flip the bus. Given the level of the Challengers League, even that much was something to be grateful for...?
Maybe everything really did come down to mindset. Once I thought about it that way, they started looking like pretty decent teammates again.
"All right, free time, everyone. Seoha, you can head out if you want."
The coach sounded pleased — the scrim results must have been satisfying. A CK team beating a mid-tier LCK squad headed for selection matches was a genuine accomplishment.
"I'll take off, then. Good work, everyone."
I said my goodbyes, left the practice room, and headed for the garage.
Where did she go?
Normally the manager was waiting once my schedule wrapped up. I headed to her office first.
What was waiting for me there was —
"Long time no see, unnie. You never even text me. So boring."
Han Byuri, wearing an ARK uniform.
What?
If my memory was right, Han Byuri had only started as the team streamer after ARK got promoted to the first division. It was still early for that.
Wondering what was going on, I stepped into the office.
"Unnie, what's this about?"
Han Byuri stood up, pulled me into a hug, then promptly pinched my cheek and stretched it out.
"ARK needs a cheer room too, right?"
In other words: she was going to be the team streamer.
"But unnie, your stream's a pretty big deal. A CK cheer room might be a little..."
"Hmm? Didn't you guys already make the promotion tournament?"
"We could still lose, you know."
The manager and Han Byuri both stared at me with identical looks of pure disbelief.
"Lose? You?"
"Well, still—"
"It's not like you're going to the Worlds finals. What kind of nonsense is that."
Even as she said it, she still wouldn't let go of my cheek, so I finally wriggled free.
"So unnie, you're really doing the team streamer thing?"
"Yep. I was already watching every ARK match anyway."
"Our matches?"
"Obviously! It's the team our Seoha is playing for. The rest of the crew's been watching too, you know."
By "the crew," she meant the Arts & Sports Specialists — the ones who'd run VLL with her. It had been less than a year, but somehow it already felt like ancient history.
"And besides, who do you think I am? Honestly, Para? It's not an exaggeration to say I discovered her. Right, Manager?"
Han Byuri had snuck up behind me and wrapped her arms around me as she said it. I would have gone pro even without the Master Craftsman Showcase, but she looked so pleased with herself that I just let it slide.
"She's not wrong. We used to be a no-name team, but with Seoha and Ms. Byuri around, we don't have to envy anyone."
"Leave it to me. I'll make sure the whole world knows about ARK."
Listening to the conversation, it became clear that "team streamer" was a generous label — Han Byuri was essentially doing this for free. At this point our team was a broke little Challengers League org; Han Byuri's personal net worth probably exceeded the entire team's assets. The only compensation she wanted was my jersey and a signature.
The idea that a streamer of her caliber would promote our team for that little was kind of amazing.
"Wondering why I'd go this far for you?"
Han Byuri poked my cheek as she spoke.
"Other people might call it being a sucker, but this is what romance and loyalty look like."
Until now, my impression of Han Byuri had been that she was fun but a few screws short of a full set. This was making me see her in a new—
"Anyway, since I'm doing the team promo and all, there's something I'd like to ask personally."
"Go ahead. If it's something I can do, I will."
"There's another VLL at the end of the year, right? When you've got some free time, just one duo queue... haha."
Hmm.
Never mind. Not a new light after all.
"Whoa, this is LoL Park?"
"You've never been?"
"Nope. Nobody to go with, and never really had the chance."
Choi Eunseo had arrived at LoL Park, home of LCK matches, and her eyes were sparkling the way they always did.
Interesting.
From the first time we met, she'd been the kind of League and pro-team fanatic who put most guys to shame. I'd assumed she had plenty of live-match experience — but between the VLL finals and now, she kept saying it was her first time.
Is ticketing that brutal?
Even for what was arguably the most popular esports league in the world, a five-hundred-seat arena was on the small side. Fans I'd met at fan meetings in my previous life had often talked about barely scraping tickets, so that was probably it.
"Don't we pick up the tickets here?"
The moment we reached the third floor where the arena was, Eunseo gave me a puzzled look as I walked straight past the ticket booth.
For regular spectators, yes — you'd present your ID here and collect the tickets you'd reserved online. But we weren't regular spectators.
"We're on the guest list, so we pick them up at the team booth."
With that, I headed deeper inside, toward the arena entrance.