22. Predicament. The World Is Unfair.

The world is unfair. Men and women are treated unequally. The disabled and able-bodied aren't on equal footing. It depends on your age and looks. There's inequality based on how much money you have. Whether you're handsome or ugly, of course. Even where you live makes you feel the disparity. Race and nationality can't escape it. Hell, even whether your voice is pleasant or grating changes how people treat you. No matter how much the same effort you put in, life forks based on what era you're born into, who you meet, and where you happen to be on a given day. That's the unfairness of life.

Back when I was Lee Jinsu, under the scorching midsummer sun that peeled the skin off my body, I hauled Gombang loads, soaked in sweat, rolling through the grind to pocket fifty or sixty thousand won a day. Of course, that was only possible because I was born with good bones and muscles. I, too, am a product of unfairness.

But... now. As Lee Jua right this moment. I'm at the pinnacle of that unfairness.

I just ran my mouth into a 29,000-won mic. Fired off a few shots with a 10,000-won mouse. No dust in my lungs, no near-misses tumbling off an asiba scaffold. Just sitting cozy in my room, playing a few rounds of games. And in four days flat, 2 million won drops into my lap.

...What a letdown.

Facing this freakish capitalist structure, the extreme ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of unfairness—eight years of honest sweat and toil suddenly felt invalidated. A pretty voice, pretty hands, and gaming skills that even surprised me. Just those three combined, and the value of labor shot off to another dimension.

...What if I even showed my face? And don't get me started on this body. I'm the epitome of unfairness.

The chat's prodding snapped me back to reality. Yeah, the world is unfair. But if I'm the beneficiary of that unfairness... shouldn't I exploit it to the hilt instead of feeling empty?

You don't tell a lotto winner, "Hey, you got lucky unfairly—share it!" No idiot does that.

So. A probability rarer than lotto, slimmer than the Super Bowl odds. Hell, maybe the only one in the entire world. This invincible beauty TS transformation. It's the happiness I deserve to enjoy with pride.

"Nah, bosses, I was just buffering while tallying up how many Gombang loads' worth of donations you fine folks dropped. My bad."

I scrambled for an excuse. I'd already spilled the TS beans... but no one was buying it anyway. Can't exactly say, "I'm going through a gender identity crisis post-TS." No way in hell.

"Alright then, shall we hit that settlement request?"

My payout info was already linked to my account from the first stream. All that's left is to click submit.

With trembling hands, I mashed the button. A new popup appeared.

"It went through, right? It did, yeah? Hehe. Two million won."

"What're you guys talking about?"

Incomprehensible chats kept flooding in. Viewers suddenly started pitying me.

"Whoa! Why're you all doing this outta nowhere? It's creepy."

No matter how much I asked, they wouldn't spill. Half were sympathetic, half laughing their asses off.

...What's going on? Why the sudden shift?

The viewers' reactions turned weird right after I hit settlement. I stared holes through the monitor. Then, below the request button, tiny faint text caught my eye.

"...Huh?"

A dumb noise leaked from my mouth. Like an idiot engineer realizing from the blueprints that everything was fucked from the start, darkness closed in.

I reread the tiny faint text on the screen. Rubbed my eyes and read it again. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Closed them for ten seconds, opened, read it once more. But the words didn't change.

Withholding tax, fine. But rookie streamer fee of 40 percent.

"F-f-f-forty... percent..."

The chat scrolled like mad, mocking my despair. I tried mental math... nah, can't. Fired up Windows Calculator and pounded the keys.

Net payout from 2,056,400 won: 1,193,179 won. Cut in half.

"...Fuck."

The curse bubbled up from my dantian, slipping past my lips unbidden.

"Even day labor through the agency only takes 10% cut..."

Thugs, straight up. Money I busted my ass—er, moderately sweated—for, and they snatch nearly half.

"Happy my ass... My blood-sweat 800k just vaporized..."

Back as Jinsu, I'd foam at the mouth if the agency boss tried to skim an extra 5k off my Gombang pay. And now 800k?

"Argh, for real!"

I shot up, ready to smash the stand mic—then sat back down. Can't wreck a 29k investment.

...Thinking calmly, 1.2 mil is still overkill. Just pissed 'cause 2 mil was dangling in front of me. Earning 1.2 mil from a few games is absurd pay either way.

"...Ah."

A viewer's short jab shut me up. I regretted my past bravado promising daily pay to Odin and Zeus.

Partner streamers. Ones with official platform contracts. They only get half the grunt fee skimmed.

I'd compared everything stream-related to gongjo gongs and grunts. Spot-on metaphor. This was a microcosm of the labor world.

I huffed, raking back my messy hair. Yelling won't make Prism cut the fee.

"Haa... Guess as a lowly grunt rookie, getting shaken down by the agency boss is unavoidable. Gotta grit my teeth and Gombang it till partner."

Snorting at the chat, I shot back.

"True woman of this era? Bosses, I'm just pretty on the outside—inside, the soul of a tough guy who slung 40kg sacks two, three, sometimes four at a time is still burning fierce."

That's how I'd been since Jinsu days. Unfair treatment on site or excessive cuts? I didn't sit and whine. Spite fired me up to charge harder.

'I'll work so damn good the site grinds to a halt without me tomorrow.' Sure, it never actually stopped without me. But that was the mindset. Kept moving while others rested during Gombang runs. Doubled up daily to earn ace status.

Same now. Platform skims 40% of my blood, sweat, tears... okay, water-sipping earnings?

"Bosses, right now I'm a rookie grunt getting shaken down by the boss."

I stared at the monitor. No one could see the resolve in my eyes, but I beamed telepathy or radio waves or whatever through the screen and declared.

"But one day, it'll be 'Platform's fucked without Lee Jua' at Prism. The agency boss himself'll come crawling: 'Jua-nim! Please, just a little fee skim, stream for our platform forever!' grabbing my pant leg. Watch me."

Viewers get me. This... this is streaming. Laughing, crying, raging together with the audience. Getting comforted. That's a streamer.

Are these psychos? Just a minute ago sympathizing with the unfair fees, cheering my platform-conquering ambitions? Now flipping to push me into logistics outdoor stream.

"Bosses... I'm Lee Jua. My pride won't let me slack off on paid time for pocket cash."

Head spinning. What if viewers are right and my mouse flies in Kill Bet, shitting the bed? There goes "Yupao Jua" image—instant loudmouth scrub.

Ah... what to do for real.

Need a mouse, but post-gukbap lunch special, total assets: 180k won. Jeshra 2 or DeathAdder? Dream on.

"Today's Thursday, so payout in exactly a week... Gukbap specials breakfast lunch dinner: 33k daily food... Gotta buy cola and water too..."

180k total, minus mouse: 130k. Daily 33k food plus drinks ~40k. Hieeek—balance zero in 3 days.

"...Then I got no food money?"

Pride be damned, gotta night shift logistics?