Lethe Influx (3)

I figure people have a finite reservoir of luck.

No. That's probably something you'd get an argument over.

What I meant to say was...

At the very least, that principle seems to apply to me.

Ending up in the Gender-Reversed World could be called luck. Getting a body that's not merely healthy but outright superior could be called luck, too—even if it does come with a few defects. And the fact that my stream is growing this fast belongs in the same column.

Those must have spent my entire lifetime allotment of fortune.

Or maybe it isn't misfortune at all. Maybe it's a catastrophe I brought on myself.

"Are you kidding me?! What kind of game is this?!"

The first few races after we started were, frankly, perfect. I crushed the foreign players on pure skill, and even when luck turned ugly I covered it with mechanics, closing every match in first.

Then the viewers started looking bored. I'd been so locked into the game I hadn't actually talked to them. That was on me. Being good at the game isn't the whole job when you're streaming.

So I pulled in viewers who owned a Switch and started an eight-player race. If the matches got a little chaos in them—if I was playing with my own chat instead of randoms—maybe the vibe would change.

Yeah. That might have been a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mistake too.

Up until I'd been racing randos, bad luck had stayed in a range I could play around. The seven viewers who queued up with me, though, had a glint of madness in them. When they couldn't handle the speed, they rammed my kart. Items went to me and me alone whenever they could manage it. Anyone more than a lap behind started parking themselves across my path.

Second place, was it? Manageable. They couldn't even coordinate with each other, so they kept throwing the games away.

I like things quiet, sure, but I was born a man. I've got as much competitive fire as any woman in this world. I'd already shown them what I could do, and I was riding that confidence, so I picked a fight. Use all the items you want. I'll still win.

Ah. That one was a mistake too.

Think about it from this world's point of view. A man beating women at a game and talking like he was looking down on their skill. It'd be weirder if their pride wasn't wounded.

The experience of facing gamers who'd awakened because of that little remark of mine is... something I'd rather not remember.

Four of them chased me down. The other three waited until I'd completed a full lap, then threw themselves across the track in front of me. Items found me without a hair of error, and the three blockers put on a display of teamwork that was frankly beautiful. And this game—path-blocking does not look easy. They pulled it off anyway.

Fifth. Fifth. Fifth. Fifth again.

Last place would have been better than this. Bottom of the table, but not actually last. I couldn't even drop below fifth, not with those three sitting in the road.

My skill was still far above theirs. Against seven people working in concert, it didn't matter. I was playing a game whose rank had already been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decided. Spend the time, lock in, concentrate—the result was still fifth.

Which brought me to now.

"No items. No blocking. One more race..."

"Stop messing around... just one race..."

"Under those conditions... please. Just one more race..."

The ones actually playing were the seven people in the lobby. The ones I was begging numbered eight hundred. Was this even the right way to do this?

Throwing myself at it just to win a single race didn't look particularly rational. There was no way I was ending the stream like this, though.

The next race we ran under those conditions?

......Fifth place.

Right.

I probably should have been begging the seven players, not the eight hundred viewers.

Judging by the fact that I never did quit.

On a quiet night shore, the only sound was the waves.

In a wide bay, a single figure sat still, fishing rod in hand.

I pitied them, not knowing the joy that lives inside stillness.

Animal Village. A healing game you can play on the Switch. Quiet, slow, exactly my kind of tempo.

After getting toyed with for ages in the Mariu Kart I'd started so confidently, and after spectacularly tanking even the last race, I killed the title and started looking for something else. Ari had already given me permission to play anything on her account.

And then this one caught my eye.

There's a rumor that Koreans min-max even their healing games. Doesn't apply to me.

...Looking at Ari's play traces, it applied to her a little. No. A lot.

Anyway, it was pretty fun. At least for someone who likes this sort of thing. Trading nonsense with cute little furries, wandering the village with a bug net. It even felt like slipping back into childhood.

Somewhere in there, a viewer mentioned there was fishing. I wanted to try a bit of everything, so I went straight to it—and the fishing in this game was more addictive than anything else it had. I don't care about fishing in real life. Do it in a game and I couldn't stop.

"I don't get how this isn't fun."

Ah. The viewer count had slipped into the six hundreds without my noticing.

Maybe I'd overdone it.

I'd been enjoying the game with my mental completely wrecked, and I'd forgotten I was streaming. The right call was to stop now, and I knew that, but—

"...Can't I do just a little more?"

A truly pitiful state of affairs.

I left the fishing spot and started walking with no particular destination, and the viewers began to weep.

"You people really have no idea what a good game is."

Well. That didn't last long either.

The problem, at the root, was that nothing you did in this game made for a long stream. A game that works on broadcast is one that can spit out reactions in the moment.

I wandered a little more, saved, and quit.

"Still plenty of time left. What am I supposed to play?"

I scrolled Ari's purchased list and found everything under the sun. There was even Switch Minecraft. The viewers would revolt, and I didn't want to play it anyway, so I moved on.

That was when a donation landed.

"Ah."

Viewer Participation meant bringing the chat into the game. Same as with Mariu Kart earlier—gather viewers and play Mariu Party.

That was a terrible idea.

A pure luck-fest, plus sabotage from the viewers? I could see the future from here. If I, already mentally broken by Mariu Kart, piled that on top of it... I honestly wasn't sure I could keep my feelings in check.

The stream atmosphere would go weird. I was sure of it. I'd lose the viewers who'd come in today, and the mood in chat would sour. I guaranteed it.

Hmm.

Fifty dollars.

Hmm.

Today's luck had already been bad enough. Wasn't it about time a little fortune showed up? And the viewers wanted it this badly.

...So the fact that I was booting up Mariu Party right now had absolutely nothing to do with the money.

There was a perfectly rational... reason.

I am not a man who moves for money...

.

.

.

See! A rational choice never betrays you!

The three viewers I was playing with had ganged up on me from the opening minutes, but in the extreme late game I pulled off a reverse sweep!

There had, of course, been two losses before that... and I had, of course, thrown away two matches that each took an hour...

Anyway. All that was left was the final tally.

When the game ends, a mushroom-shaped character comes out and recites the in-game records. Who collected the most coins, that sort of thing. It was still talking, at length. None of it mattered. The game was already over. Meaningless stats.

Hmm.

No.

This wasn't right.

?

"Huh?"

The stars I'd collected came to four.

And the player in last place, sitting on two stars, received two bonus stars.

When the star counts are tied, rank is decided by coins.

Stamped across the screen in letters you couldn't miss: 2nd Place — Lethe.

Me.

"......"

Ah. There was one more thing I hadn't predicted.

Even when I lost my mind and got irritated, the stream atmosphere didn't go ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weird at all.

Two in the morning.

Right on the hour, the stream went off.