The Hater's True Face
After returning from my Japan trip—where I'd earned the nickname of the master sniper with a hundred percent hit rate on naming shots—my daily routine picked up a few new habits.
The first was checking YouTube the moment I woke up.
"Hah..."
I couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle every time I saw it. The number climbing by ten thousand a day—sometimes even twenty thousand—felt utterly unreal. Watching it tick up with every refresh was like dopamine pickling my brain.
The second habit was walks with Maximus. His shots weren't fully complete yet, so we couldn't go far, but a quick loop around the park near the house had him wagging like he'd conquered the world.
"Let's go, Maximus. Just up to those flower beds today."
"Wang!"
Seeing his butt wiggle like that melted away all my built-up fatigue.
And the third was scouting campsites or pensions where I could take Maximus along. Finally, my last routine: patrolling the 'Camping Gallery,' my spiritual homeland and a place I both loved and hated.
I sat down at the computer and logged in with familiar keystrokes.
The gallery was flooded with newbie questions. Thanks to Camp Virgin's influence, it was clear more people were dipping their toes into camping.
I smiled warmly and placed my hands on the keyboard. I wanted to type, 'You'll shred your palm hammering with a rock. Go to Daiso and grab a 3,000-won one at least.' But I held back.
I left kind, gentle replies.
...But seriously, how do you end up with an extra pole?
I was peacefully scrolling through the gallery when my finger froze. One post with a shady title jumped out at me. And it had high views and upvotes.
[Audio File]
There was an audio file attached mid-post. I hit play.
Static crackled through, mixed with noise. It was a clip from the live stream during our Geumjeongdo camping trip.
"...The land that President Han bought starts around that bridge over there and covers the entire coastal area?"
That sounded like the citizen group staff we met on Geumjeongdo. Then the post continued.
"......"
It felt like a sledgehammer to the head. My mind went blank.
I checked the comments.
But as I scrolled down, the tide was subtly shifting.
Brainwashed folks started piling on one by one. Indignation surged up.
No, we really were poor...
Dad's stubbornness had nearly gotten us evicted for late rent more than once. Days surviving on instant ramen flashed by like a montage.
But how do I explain that? 'My dad was too stubborn to accept help'? That'd be spitting on his grave and driving a spike into Grandpa's heart.
More than anything, they didn't want the truth. They just needed a target to tear into.
I clicked the poster 'Yaro''s ID like I was possessed, searching their history.
The page brimmed with malice. Especially that 'woman solo camping? Must've been with a guy' post—it mocked the authenticity of my camping itself.
My hands trembled. I'd braced for weirdos when fame hit, but facing it head-on shook my mental game.
Wh-what do I do...?
I had to respond. Staying silent would make me look dumb. Evidence. Leave evidence first.
What was it? PPAP? No, fuck, that's Kijaru... wrong?
PDF. Right, PDF.
I opened a new tab and searched 'how to get PDF'.
The requirements were stricter than expected. Irritation boiled over.
Then President Kim Manho's words popped into my head.
'If something's too tough to decide alone, consult us. We're your partners.'
Right. I'm not alone anymore. I'm an MCN creator now—one with full backing, not just a contract.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and dialed him.
It barely rang before his calm voice answered.
"Yes, Areum-ssi. I've got you."
"Ah... P-President?"
My voice shook a bit.
"Yes, what's going on? Your voice doesn't sound good."
Uncanny guy. He read my state from tone alone.
I explained calmly: malicious post on my usual community. Not just hate comments, but cleverly edited material spreading rumors. And the poster had been bashing me ongoing.
President Kim listened without interrupting till the end. Silence followed briefly.
"Areum-ssi."
"Yes..."
"You did well. Reaching out instead of suffering alone—truly well done."
That nearly brought tears.
"No need to waste emotions on trash like that. Just focus on making great content."
"But... if people misunderstand..."
"Misunderstandings clear up. And whoever made them will pay."
Sensei...! I wanna go camping...!
"Don't worry. Our company tolerates a lot, but not anyone messing with our artists. Legal team's on it today."
So reassuring. This is agency power. Alone, I'd have pulled an all-nighter screenshotting in my room.
"Thank you, President. I feel relieved now."
"No need. Eat something tasty, rest well. Good news soon."
Call ended. My clogged chest cleared right up.
Yeah, not my problem.
Pros handle it—no need for my stress. Time for a mood switch.
I turned back to the computer. Gallery? No thanks. Fired up YouTube instead. Time to heal with my usual camping channels.
Rainy camping ASMR, fire-gazing logs with crackling wood. Zoning out to them calmed me down.
After a few, the algorithm tossed up a rec.
Yawo-ui Romang. Oh, popular channel. I'd watched a few. Guy did rugged off-grid and bushcraft camping. 500K subs? Big league in camping world.
500K milestone... mine soon.
Curiosity clicked it.
The guy slurped ramen in his tent, answering Qs.
"Camping gear? I don't do fancy. Sturdy's best."
Normal so far. Mid-video, he drained his broth, face twisting oddly.
"Camping scene's... gotten kinda corrupted lately. Bitter about it."
Huh? Sudden?
"Camping's about that hungry spirit, right? The grind, cold, hunger thrill."
He stared dead at the camera.
"Unlike some, I was really poor. Saved every instant noodle as a kid... Never hit the snack spots much."
...?
Déjà vu hit. Poor? Ramen?
"No rich grandpa or connections. I got here bare-fisted."
I paused. No way a 500K YouTuber snipes a newbie like me. Coincidence.
Resumed. He smirked bitterly.
"Who? Oh, there's one. Rides their looks and struts around."
Confirmed. Me. Exact repertoire from my video comments and community trolls.
'Rides their looks and struts.'
My hands went cold. A big YouTuber dissed me publicly—and pathetically.
Less anger, more disbelief. What'd I do? Camp my way, lucked into virality—is that a crime?
Deflated, I double-checked channel info.
Channel: Yawo-ui Romang
Yawo-ui Romang... Outdoor... Romance... Ya... Ro...
"...Huh?"
Lightning struck my brain. That gallery hater's nick.
And this channel.
Yawo-ui Romang
Nah, no way. A 500K YouTuber using their channel shorthand for a burner to hate? Too stupid.
No one's that egotistical... right?
"......"
'Unlike some, I was really poor.'
'No rich relatives or grandpa.'
...Fuck.
Gotcha, you bastard?