Chapter 152
Chapter 152
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 152
Chapter Title: 74. Tyrant (4)
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"Wow, Dongtanmom as expected! He's truly an amazing guy.
He planted hope in us with that short video! We need to give him even more support!"
Melon Mask reappeared and shared his thoughts.
He was so excited that he shed a few tears resembling Earth droplets in the cold vacuum of space.
True to his third-year astronaut experience, Melon Mask scooped up the floating tears with a sponge, then shouted brightly with an expression at peak excitement.
"Next up is m9!"
Finally, 'that bastard'.
This was the first time m9 looked like he might lose.
The guy had shown considerable enthusiasm for the armband.
He'd been campaigning for votes for a long time and even blabbered about handing out The Hope residency rights.
Like a human soaked in inexplicable confidence, he acted as if he was already the armband holder. For instance,
He even posted an unauthorized notice like that.
But then Dongtanmom dropped a video of absurd quality.
A video even I had to nod at.
What must m9 have felt watching it?
I didn't want to be lumped in with him, but m9 probably felt something similar to me.
He might even break like Berkut and quit midway, or withdraw entirely.
Honestly, even if he dangled from a rope appealing about his tilted apartment, his chances against Dongtanmom were near zero. As I quietly watched the live stream, a message popped up.
Gotta give credit to m9 for his guts alone.
Still going through with the live after Dongtanmom's video.
Not that he had a snowball's chance, but I sipped my coffee and focused on the stream.
The video started with m9 sitting cross-legged, roped up in his tilted living room.
Probably shot with a selfie stick.
m9's expression was serene as he sat cross-legged.
Eyes closed, smiling like he'd attained enlightenment. What had he realized?
That his house was about to collapse soon?
Suddenly, m9 opened his eyes and nimbly dashed out of the tilted apartment.
The slanted hallway and countless doorways welcomed him, and m9 ascended the at-least-45-degree incline like a salmon, plunging straight into the pitch-black elevator shaft, rappelling down the rope.
Friction sparked flames on his reinforced gloves as m9 descended rapidly through the darkness, then bounced lightly into a bright passage, landing gracefully in what seemed like the outdoor garden on the 4th floor.
"Whew, it's cold."
After a bit of showmanship, m9 headed to the apartment community facilities connected to the outdoor garden.
True to The Hope's former reputation as the ultimate luxury residential complex, it had a decent array of amenities: pool, bathhouse, sauna, screen golf, fitness center, and more.
But like the shoddy building it was, most were broken—screws loose, not functioning properly.
The bathhouse was the only usable one, apparently.
And fittingly, that's where m9 headed.
The boiler roared powerfully in the bathhouse, spreading white steam and warmth.
Surprising that water and electricity still worked.
The Hope lived up to its name.
Though the tilted tubs probably couldn't hold water.
Maybe a shower was doable.
Why the bathhouse, though?
Planning a bath scene?
Who'd want to see m9 naked?
A new window had silently appeared in the top-left corner at some point.
Melon Mask's real-time reaction feed.
I checked his expression.
Eyes wide, watching, but not yet grasping the content.
He might cut the live if m9 stripped.
But what awaited us in the bathhouse was an utterly unexpected guest.
There was a nest.
One dozens of times larger than the nests we knew.
And in it, a single egg.
A mutation egg.
The egg was ostrich-sized.
m9 gently stroked the egg with a kind expression.
m9 carefully lifted the egg like a baby.
The moment I heard that, I checked Melon Mask's reaction in the top-left window again.
Real-time translation lagged a beat, and being in space made it two beats, so Melon Mask reacted after a delay.
Melon Mask mouthed something.
It looked like "m9".
With a deeply moved expression.
m9 looked at the camera and gave a Korean-style bow of thanks.
I was skeptical at first, but watching his antics, I could guess m9's scheme.
"...This bastard."
Can't win by votes, so sucking up to the power player.
Flatter Melon Mask to gain trust and snag a spot regardless of the vote. After the goosebump-inducing bootlicking, m9 ended the live with a satisfied face.
That was the end of the live.
Let's see the reactions.
Lukewarm reactions.
No big hit for m9.
His live was for Melon Mask alone, not all board users.
Gotta admit his cunning.
As I warmed up my fingers for a long critique post, a message arrived.
Live?
Me?
Didn't see that coming.
I had no plans for a live today.
No prep either.
Why bother when I'd win without it?
But Dongtanmom landed such a strong blow, so fairness demands something from me.
Need time.
Something flashy to tug heartstrings.
Without revealing myself to Woo Min-hee, Kang Han-min, or Na Hye-in.
As the minor candidates' videos played, I gathered my thoughts.
What to do.
I lack Dongtanmom's planning and production support, or m9's gimmicks and sleaziness.
What I have is one thing.
Right, me as the Naked One.
If sincere, I could at least earn some small empathy.
I checked my phone.
The sub-monitor showed the live feed.
A mysterious man appeared, face hidden by sunglasses, hip-hop cap, and mask.
"Ahh."
I tested my voice. Nasal, distorted.
Voice modulator working fine.
No one should recognize me like this.
But then,
What's her deal?
I ignored her and faced the camera, playing music.
Soothing beatbox-toned BGM started, and with the modulated voice, I began my story.
Woo Min-hee yapping didn't matter.
What gave me chills was Melon Mask's face in the top-left. He pouted sullenly, tilting his head.
Especially at the ace 'arithmetic' pun, he looked uncomfortable.
"......"
This flow's dangerous.
Need a switch.
I hurriedly changed topics while eyeing Melon's face.
Melon's face softened at the monster talk.
But,
"......No, beatbox maybe?"
The moment I said "beatbox", the screen went black.
Melon stopped the live.
"That's it!"
Melon took center screen from the corner, pointing at the camera and ranting excitedly.
Melon wasn't the only one mad at me.
The chilly vibe hit the chat instantly.
"......"
Didn't expect much from the live anyway.
Just gave it a shot.
The real win would be in the vote anyway.
Our voting job was simple.
Click.
Account login - activate - vote - logout.
Click.
Repeat.
Click.
150 times for me.
Valentine handles the other 150.
Hope for good results.
"......"
Click.
*
The next day.
Judgment Day in every sense.
Who becomes board armband today decides our board's wildly different future.
Our savior could claim it, or a tyrant treating it like a toy.
Vivabot knows the outcome.
Unlike his usual lazy image, Vivabot showed up on time.
I crouched low, steadying my breath.
Heart racing a bit.
Means even this SKELTON had high hopes for the armband.
For some reason, m acted like he already won.
Not just him.
Baek Seung-hyeon smugly flaunted his confidence too.
Who would it be.
No one could see, but all eyes felt on Vivabot.
In the rare eerie silence, Vivabot's post appeared atop the chat.
"......"
"......!!"
[74. Tyrant (4)] End