Stream Collaboration Begins

Humans are creatures obsessed with the speed of information.

History made the reason plain enough. Civilizations that could move information faster swallowed the ones that couldn't, and that was how they grew. In war, the speed at which you could exchange intelligence and news could decide victory or defeat all by itself. At first they ran on foot. Then they rode horses. When they advanced further still, they lit signal fires or flew kites — anything to deliver a message as swiftly as possible.

Time passed, and the twenty-first century arrived. Modern society, living up to the name information age, now moved at a truly staggering clip.

Namgung Yeon watched Kim Muwon's stream, sent him a collab proposal, and Kim Muwon accepted it. After that they ironed out the schedule, the content, even the revenue split, and posted the announcement — all by around nine in the evening.

Most streamers spent anywhere from a few days to a few months planning a collab. By that standard, this one had come together at an almost absurd speed.

Twelve hours from the moment Kim Muwon had started streaming. Cut that in half if you counted from the moment Namgung Yeon hit send on the proposal — six hours. You had to split a day in two, then split that half in two again, just to get a number that small. Even the Inbang-gal regulars, people who had watched more streamers than they could count, found the speed astonishing.

Astonishing or not, the news that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the two of them had locked in a collab so quickly did not stay the main event for long.

No matter how fast a collab came together, what actually mattered on stream was whether it was fun. If the content was stale or boring, you ended up with a hollow broadcast — interesting guests, nothing inside, like a bun with no filling.

So the gallery's real obsession, the so-called bait everyone was chewing on, had already swung entirely toward what they were actually going to see in Namgung Yeon and Kim Muwon's collab.

Casual chatter threads, kendo-versus-martial-arts who-would-win debates — every time you hit refresh, the page had already rewritten itself.

Of course, wherever there was light, shadows gathered too.

Which meant that for a full week leading up to the collab, the mods had been running themselves ragged playing defense against trolls and shock images. They were the only ones having a miserable time.

Coordinating the collab schedule turned out to be far easier than I expected. Not because I had handled anything particularly well — Namgung Yeon had simply gone out of her way to accommodate me.

We could have run simultaneous streams on both our channels, but she funneled everything into mine alone and split the revenue instead. She even set the split at seventy-thirty, heavily in my favor.

And she arranged the venue herself, too. One way or another, I owed her.

I lifted my head and looked at the sign hanging on the third floor of the building in front of me. Gwanghwa Kendo Gym, written in elegant lettering. I had been told the director who ran the place was an old acquaintance of Namgung Yeon's from her competitive days.

—Jingle!

I climbed the stairs and opened the door, and a bell chimed overhead. It wasn't loud, but the clear, bright note drew every eye in the room, and a greeting left my mouth before I had to think about it.

"Hello. I'm Kim Muwon."

"Ahh! So you're the one!"

To my surprise, the first person to answer was a hearty-looking middle-aged man. His frame was solidly built from years of consistent training, but when I read his physical age through my energy sense, he seemed to be well into his later years.

"I've heard a lot about you from Yeon. You can actually use real martial arts, huh? I was just gonna lend you the place, but I got curious and carved out some time."

He laughed, a big rolling laugh, and made no secret of how interested he was. Apparently the idea that someone could use martial arts in the real world had him thoroughly hooked.

"Director, what are you doing latching onto a guest like that? I know you're curious, but still."

"Haha, fair enough. Well then, I'll just sit over there and watch quietly."

It didn't take long. Namgung Yeon came over, and the director was promptly steered off to one side of the dojo, where he spread out a cushion and sat down. Only then did I let out a breath and offer her a proper greeting.

"Even at his age, the director's overflowing with energy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I honestly didn't expect you to accept the proposal so readily. I'm not sure if you already know this, but my real name is Namgung Yeon as well, so feel free to just call me that."

The fact that her real name and her streaming name were the same Namgung name was something I already knew. It was right there on her wiki page. There was no way I wouldn't have.

"But… that outfit you're wearing. What on earth…?"

She let go of the hand she had just shaken and looked me over, her gaze traveling across my clothes in particular, taking in every detail. It resembled the uniforms worn by kendo practitioners and other martial artists, but the construction was far more elaborate than an ordinary dobok.

Her brow furrowed slightly, as if something were hovering just out of reach. Then her face lit up all at once. Her eyes went wide, and she spoke with genuine wonder.

"Wait. Is this what I think it is?"

"It's a martial arts robe. The kind you see in wuxia novels."

The whole outfit was black, picked out with gold thread, and the sash tied at my waist was marked with pure white patterns that suggested yin and yang. It was a robe I was genuinely fond of, so I had shown it off with some confidence — but Namgung Yeon's expression turned a little complicated as she went on.

"No, I mean. I thought the same thing when I watched the VOD a week ago, but this really looks like one of those outfits they sell for webtoon character cosplay."

"…Custom clothing orders turned out to be a lot more expensive than I expected."

I didn't think she'd actually recognize it. I swallowed the thought and let out an awkward little laugh. If I wanted a martial arts robe the way I pictured it, custom work was the only option — and small-batch custom clothing was brutally expensive. Once next month's streaming payout came in, maybe. But for the old me, the one who had nearly gone broke buying a single sword, a custom martial arts robe had been about as reachable as a star in the sky.

"It suits you, though. You've got a good build and a really strong presence — if you don't look too closely, it doesn't even read as a cosplay outfit."

"Well. I'd like to think so."

The compliment on my looks had come out of nowhere, but it didn't feel bad, so I offered her an honest impression of my own.

"The martial arts robe looks great on you too, Namgung Yeon. I heard you used to be a kendo athlete, and it seems like you still haven't put the sword down."

"…Is it that obvious?"

"Of course. The way you place your feet without thinking, how you distribute your balance, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠muscle groups that are clearly trained — I can roughly size someone up from that."

And even if I didn't say it out loud, her face belonged in the same conversation. Honestly, I couldn't begin to understand why someone who looked like that was working as a VTuber. A body trained down to nothing extra and a face like hers — she could turn on a camera, eat fried chicken, and print money. Was there some reason she had gone so far as to build a whole wuxia RP and become a VTuber instead?

Well. It's not like I have any right to comment on someone else's life.

I cut the thought off before it could wander somewhere rude and steered us back to the stream.

"Well then, shall we get the stream started?"

"Sounds good. I've already set up the cameras over there, so just log into your account and go live."

She wasn't exaggerating. The cameras and broadcast equipment were already set up around the dojo, clean and complete. Compared to me filming on a phone, every piece of it looked punishingly professional.

The computer specs look insane too. What kind of streaming rig has sixty-four gigs of RAM in it?

I couldn't help being impressed, but there was no time to stand around admiring the gear. The collab time we had announced was almost here.

I logged into my account on the streaming PC they had prepared, and while I got ready, Namgung Yeon moved to a spot the cameras would catch cleanly and waited. She raised one hand and counted down on her fingers — three, two, one — and then, at last.

A week of preparation was over. The collab had begun.