A Father's Stream Debut – The Tournament Ignites
Once a river flows, it never turns back. For the past decade or so, no matter how brilliantly the genius PDs at broadcasting stations crafted their programs, it wasn't enough to win back viewers who had migrated to internet streaming. So, to grow the market itself, the stations reversed course and signed relay contracts with Twishi. Their strategy to absorb internet streamers' audiences proved effective. That's why, around this time in October, new broadcasting categories popped up on Twishi.
Streams tagged with #KBS, #Relay, #Tournament, and the like began appearing one by one, drawing in streamers with enough credentials to compete for awards.
The streamer HyejiBecomesNight, Yoo Sia—famous as a women's League challenger and Ddakgoyade winner—finally got to leverage her academic background for the first time since starting internet broadcasting.
"Nami was in second grade elementary this year, right? So this is her first match?"
"Middle school third year? What does that mean?"
Yoo Sia quickly searched the recent updates on her dual monitors. Sure enough, NoName's name was prominently listed in the middle school division roster.
"What the..."
"Everyone in these tournaments is a monster without exception. Especially by middle school—they're all kids born to fight. Whoa, her opponent won't stand a chance..."
Yoo Sia shuddered, recalling her own past traumas.
As viewers heatedly debated just how much NoName could shine, a Twishi-wide announcement broadcast played.
Academy Tournament Rising Star Streamer: NoName
"NoName...? Why is she streaming right now?"
It was the first time Yoo Sia had seen a tournament participant double as a relay streamer.
The viewer count was over ten times higher. 'Curious... let's check it out quick.' And Sia tasted the abyss.
That man was a wartime magic engineer back in the day, but NoName, who valued her routine, played two random Kariri songs against a dim background as usual. Ignoring the headaches from algorithm-fed new viewers, she finally started video output once the tracks ended.
The first frame greeted with NoName's pale, squishy cheeks.
"Ah, but outdoor shooting's unfamiliar, so I dunno how to position the camera. Professor, do you know how to use this mini-drone?"
"Ah, then one on the whole arena, one on my face. Yes yes, thank you."
The camera pulled back from her face. As ambient noise—spectator chatter, announcer mic echoes—faded, NoName nodded and spoke.
"Hello viewers. I'm NoName—or Nonami—handling the biased relay for today's Seferon Academy vs. Alteer Academy. Nice to meet you all."
* * *
Thanks to Principal Gu On-yu's connections, our elementary second-years and families snagged rows 1 through 3 dead center in the arena. But my friends had headed to the waiting room early for the first match, leaving empty seats beside me.
"I don't know the first thing about broadcasting, Nami. You sure this is okay?"
I nodded confidently at Cheon Professor's question.
"Yes, just talk like you're lecturing college kids. Nice and easy."
"Haha, how could it be the same?"
"You'll get used to it as we go."
I clipped a mini-mic to his lapel for the awkward professor.
"Father-in-law...?"
"Ah, I can explain that..."
While I was distracted, sponsorships exploded, and Cheon Professor's eyes narrowed.
I frantically waved it off—no, that's not it.
"Sigh..."
I gave up explaining and adjusted the camera to include Cheon Professor on screen. Then a pre-broadcast point came to mind; I whispered to him.
'I'll call you Dad during the broadcast.'
'...?'
'Calling you Professor all the time looks weird.'
He seemed reluctant, but his smiling eyes said otherwise.
"Some of you might recognize him from past broadcasts—this is my dad."
"Nice to meet you, viewers. Thank you always for looking after our clumsy Nami."
"Ah, thank you 'NoNameIsABabyProtectHer' for the sponsorship. This means one viewer just donated a million won for our dinner."
"What? A million won? Does that person have money rotting at home or something?"
Cheon Professor's jaw dropped. The world's big, and rich folks abound.
As he adapted to the sponsorship ecosystem, I scanned the racing chat.
"We have a few minutes till start, so fire away questions for Dad—quick now."
Our room manager took the first swing. I glanced up at Cheon Professor.
"I hardly picky eat at all, right Dad?"
His body stiffened like buffering. I nudged his side with my elbow; he finally twitched to life.
"Won't touch bell peppers or paprika. Barely eats spicy noodles or seafood pancakes. Oysters and shellfish too?"
"Seafood's kinda iffy."
Trauma from a similar-looking monster back then—not total aversion, but off-putting.
Questions kept coming.
"Not once. She's exactly as you see her."
"I live in constant worry she'll cause a huge incident."
"..."
"Huh?"
A chill wind suddenly whipped up, goosebumps rising on my arms. The ambient mana was syncing with Cheon Professor's mood shift.
Questions skewed too much my way, so I cooled the hype.
"We're co-commentating today—time to intro Dad's creds, yeah?"
Other personal relays featured ex-academy teachers, big academy instructors, assistant profs. Just a regular Seferon student, I pushed forward specs-rivaling-no-one Cheon Professor.
I activated the prepped hologram, displaying his personal site creds: Korea University Materials Engineering full prof, magic college vice dean, Theoretical Transmutation Research Institute director, plus outside director for major corps. Not all—he'd designed national defense transmutation circles for US megaprojects and fought in the Middle East war young.
Viewers wowed at the superhuman resume. Even watching beside him, his days felt 48 hours long. But this would hit home.
I glanced at him for silent okay; he nodded slightly. Then I played a VTube clip Koreans would instantly react to.
(2013) 4th National Physical Arts Tournament High School Semifinal: Ham Chorong vs. Cheon Byeong-ho
"Everyone knows Ham Chorong, right? Dad's the only one who went full 30-minute match against her."
Puffing pride like my own boast, I introduced Cheon Professor beaming.
Felt like we'd hit record viewers today.
* * *
While NoName stepped away to cheer her friends one last time, Cheon Professor recalled the moment with a small smile.
'Not sincere, probably... but still happy.'
How one word—'Dad'—could make his heart skip. He straightened his tie to steady himself, then retied it properly.
NoName hugging each friend: Yuna, Ji-hye, Haru, Hangeol, Si-hu. She'd mentioned them so often, even he knew their names now.
As the 10 students entered the arena, NoName bounded up the stairs.
Announcer intro ended; judges took corners.
"Looks like our kid's first up."
A gruff voice from right behind Cheon Professor. The burly, bearded man was Detective Ma Beom-il.
"Ji-hye can make that face too. Sigh, can our girl do well? What do you think, Nami's dad?"
Glancing at the arena, Ma Ji-hye and I Ha-ru stood center, glaring fiercely with resolute expressions.
"Kids grow day by day, don't they? She'll achieve far more than you imagine."
"Wanted to avoid pushing fights... Ji-hye's soft-hearted, wonder who she takes after..."
"Someone said parents don't lead kids—they just support from behind so they don't fall. So let's trust and wait. She'll nail it."
"Professor Cheon, I'm back. Turn on the broadcast quick—match starting."
Seeing NoName check the camera in a rush, Cheon Professor grinned wide.
"...?"
NoName tilted her head. He shook his off—nothing—and padded her seat with a cushion.
"Let's see how our juniors do."
"Won't disappoint. Not like we trained 'em a day or two."
"Hm? Trained?"
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