260 - Viewer Participation

Since I have company today, the opening song can play just once.

To give Emika some real combat experience, we headed to a nearby PC bang and grabbed seats. The "Gung PC Bang" where I stayed last year was packed with capsules, but this one was structured like a noraebang, separated into private rooms. Emika's attendants had changed out of their black suits into comfortable white doboks and were lounging on the sofas.

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Viewers expressed their joy in all sorts of ways. It had become routine for four-digit viewer counts to gather the moment I went live. I indulged in a bit of nostalgia, but there was no time for that now. As the song ended, I connected to the voice channel.

"Hup hup. Hello, everyone. Feels like it's been forever—nice to see you."

Plenty of people were worried about me because of the bomb terror incident. After that, copycat crimes led Twishi to ban fan gifts, and things stayed chaotic for a while, but once the media stopped reporting under government control, society seemed to return to normal.

"There were a lot of tough things going on. But if you saw the footage back then, you know I'm fine, so no need to worry too much."

Managers started logging in to clean up the chat. I have no idea how they know to show up right when I go live, even though some have day jobs. I'm not one for long greetings, so I gave a super brief update on life lately.

"There was an open class for parents recently, but nothing special otherwise. Same as always."

"Oh, no tournament for me. Or rather, I can't enter."

"Thanks for the 1,000 KRW donation, Goonboong2. No, it's not for that reason..."

I bet this is how Emika felt talking to the family head earlier. Having to explain the reason myself was burdensome and, above all, embarrassing. But if I didn't say it, it'd just benefit our Defense Ministry. Vacations aren't important.

"It's the height restriction..."

"Sigh... under 120 cm, yeah."

"Pfft!"

Emika, waiting off-screen, burst into laughter at my words. Her snicker came through the mic unfiltered.

Sis, why are you laughing?

Ugh... it's funny...!

My height's funny? Wanna end today's stream?

No, sorry!

Emika clasped her hands together politely in apology. Her eyebrow was still twitching suspiciously, but I'd magnanimously let it slide.

Turning back to chat, it was chaos like bees without a queen.

"Actually, I invited a collab guest today. That's the main point of the stream, so please welcome her kindly."

I gestured for Emika to sit beside me. No dobok like hers in-game, so I put her in a taekwondo uniform. Red ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and black belts were paid, so yellow it was. Belt color doesn't matter much anyway.

"Hello, Korean viewers...! I'm Katsuhata Emika of the Katsuhata school. Nice to meet you."

"We'll call you Emika on stream."

"Yeah yeah. It's Nami's stream, do whatever."

"Obviously. Not sure if viewers know, but she says she's somewhat recognized in Japan just walking down the street."

"Me? Somewhat? More than that..."

"So today's content is 'Beat Emika.' Best of five, 1 win gets coffee, 2 burger, 3 chicken gift icon."

"No way..."

Thick raindrops soaked Emika's nose. She couldn't even lift her head, just staring at the wet ground. Her wooden sword—same shape and weight as the one she used—lay far away.

As she clenched her fist, sticky mud oozed between her nails.

"Good work, Emika. As expected, real talent."

Her opponent extended a hand to help her up. But the dirty hand... she couldn't grasp it. Her pride was smeared in filth just as much.

VR adapted surprisingly fast. Her lighter body felt primed for peak performance. She racked up early wins, doubting if Nami's training worked.

But final score: 31 wins, 15 losses. Below 70% win rate crushed her.

"Do I really have talent...?"

Emika was anxious. Everyone said she had it, but recent contradictions piled up.

"Of course! Whip newbies can't resist, but you took a set."

Opponent had never faced Katsuhata swordsmanship either. Same-spec 1v1 mode by system. Reality: her only edge was innate aura control.

"Ah..."

Years of sword training negated. Thousand strikes on dummies, blind log walks. Born with talent drilled into her ears—she wished the public recognized her effort more.

But if no talent? Ordinary body?

31-15.

"That's my limit..."

"Emika."

Nami, event host, finally stood. Her tiny rubber boots squelched in mud with each step.

Countless fireflies swirled around her. Intense sunlight burst from her irises. Lower body doubled, towering height. Shiny gold hair swayed with each click of mud-high heels.

The woman in pure white dress drew a sharp blade from her waist scabbard.

"Don't lose yourself."

Silver Scia Bona slowly swept from Emika's head to toe.

Emika was weak to irregular attacks. Helpless against years of players' tactics.

Reality far more complex. Only one way to counter uncertainty.

"Discard everything but yourself."

Tear down the tower of knowledge and experience.

"..."