Conviction – "It's Been a While Since You Streamed?"
After finishing his daily routine at the Interactive AI Research Lab at the Korea Institute of Magical Engineering and Technology, the man returned home and flung himself onto the bed in his outing clothes. It was that evening hour when everyone shakes off the fatigue of the day and indulges in their own time.
Daesal tapped on the homepage of one of the streamers he subscribed to.
Unusually for her, this streamer had set her avatar to the minimum age possible. If it was aimed at viewers with pedophilic tastes, it was at least half successful. There were people who came just to hear her voice and admire the avatar in her otherwise contentless, dry stream.
Watching her solve homework sent by young viewers in exchange for a thousand or two thousand won donations made him feel a pang of pity. But true Twishi viewers didn't support streamers in ordinary ways. Though he was now a grad student at a top-tier institution without envy, the inferiority complex from his grueling re-exam year drove him to expose the streamer's background.
He wanted to reveal that this streamer, cheered by elementary, middle, and high schoolers, was actually a jobless nobody. So he deliberately sent a tough question at a 4th-year university level in abstract theory magic and radio engineering.
That was her immediate answer upon seeing the problem. Not your average jobless person, huh? After that, Daesal started keeping NoName's streams on consistently, even if he didn't watch them all intently.
Grad school coursework lacked training data, so even asking AI yielded no precise answers. Yet this streamer showed knowledge far broader than his own. For a while, Daesal used NoName as a handy homework solver. Sure, it cost a bit more, but so what? A win-win was enough.
Then NoName played LoL and World of Arceria. Turns out she was a burnout who'd played LoL for 8 years across tens of thousands of games, and in just a week, she collabed with another LoL streamer and rocketed to Master.
That was the one stream Daesal skipped. He was swamped with his thesis that week and knew nothing about LoL anyway.
But when NoName announced she'd start World of Arceria, he couldn't help but get excited. This was practically his field of expertise. As he gave her newbie advice, she cleared Nightmare difficulty Part 1 in a single day, right up to the final boss.
She was no longer his little personal streamer. A genius among geniuses who could achieve anything if she set her mind to it.
To the three who survive until the end.
After this monumental feat and her return, she did an ant-peeling dance to a Japanese anime insert song, then declared she'd select managers for her stream. Daesal had a gut feeling. NoName's channel was a skyrocketing growth stock. If it were actual shares, he'd have gone all-in with his savings and loans.
Didn't big corporate streamers give their managers real authority and prestige? As an early viewer, he couldn't help but covet it.
Daesal swallowed hard, tossed aside his procrastinated assignments, and hopped into the capsule. Time to claim his reward for slogging through her streams. He'd dissect her tastes down to the big data.
32 Strong – Round of 16 1/16
5th Circle Ignis Velum (Curtain of Fire) vs 4th Circle Glakis Asta (Ice Spear)
"Oh, isn't that Daesal? Even a named viewer came to join."
"Ah, yeah. Kinda nervous. I've been watching NoName's streams for a while, but what if I drop out quick."
"Yep, good luck to us!"
Exchanging encouragement with fellow viewers, Daesal stood on the set with grim determination. For the first round, NoName freely shared her thoughts, letting viewers relax their tension. Daesal, too, stood confidently atop the Ignis Velum platform without hesitation.
Until NoName uttered those contrived words. Even those who'd picked Ice Spear flocked to the Curtain of Fire side. Meanwhile, Daesal hesitated. That wasn't something NoName would normally say. A person obsessed solely with magic efficiency and scalability making an aesthetic judgment like "cool"?
It's definitely a trap!
Sensing the fishiness, Daesal leaped to the adjacent platform just before the timer ended. The moment he switched, everyone on Curtain of Fire vanished into the void.
"Haha..." She reminded him, just when he'd forgotten. How vicious she truly was.
32 Strong – Round of 16 13/16
1st Circle Light (Light) vs 3rd Circle Diagon Kaido (Diagonal Slash)
A few viewers, sensing the blatant endorsement of Diagonal Slash as suspicious, reverse-picked Light this time. But alas.
[3 eliminated.]
[5 survived.]
The Combat Magic World Cup ended prematurely, already down to the final three without reaching the end. The next problem was likely the last. With only five viewers left in the vast space, the stage felt desolate.
NoName stepped down from the stage to greet the survivors.
"Congratulations. I'd love to make all five of you managers."
"Then why not appoint all five of us? Haha."
One man chuckled awkwardly. It was tone-deaf, but Daesal understood. They'd clawed through slim odds and mind games with the host. Missing out by one problem would haunt them forever.
"Anyone here short on time?"
All five stayed silent. They were ready to ditch real life for manager rights.
"Gotta keep my promise. But let's make the final one different."
She abruptly closed the World Cup window.
"Why close it?"
The five candidates and 1,500 viewers—who hadn't cared about the rankings but wanted closure—sighed. What was the point of the content so far?
"The World Cup was just an excuse. You only wanted to pick managers from the start...!"
NoName just blinked innocently at the sharp accusation. Frustratingly inscrutable.
"You're all people of conviction. No matter what I said, you stuck to your choices without wavering."
True, as NoName said. They'd second-guessed her hints once or twice, but ultimately trusted their own judgment.
"Stick to your convictions for the last one. Here's the question."
NoName took a deep breath, naturally crossing her arms as she paced before them. Her tiny stature, not even reaching other avatars' chests, stood out.
She exhaled again. Her lips trembled—not from uneven breath.
"Let's hypothesize."
She stopped calmly before one man—the muscled one who'd asked about all five getting manager spots.
"You're stranded on a mountain. No water, no food, dark night with heavy clouds."
"Climbing at night is seriously dangerous." The man nodded.
NoName glanced at his nickname and tossed a question. "Got a girlfriend?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Think of someone you love. 'HellsMonster' here can think of his girlfriend. Family's fine too if not."
NoName spun half a turn toward the opposite participant.
"You're stranded together. Waiting till morning would get you down safely. But unable to bear the cold and hunger, you choose to descend."
People gradually got drawn into the kid's oddly detailed storytelling.
"Your wrong judgment leads to a hasty descent down the slope, where your loved one—your sweetheart or family—gets bitten by a viper. Untreated, the real-time spreading poison is fatal."
"Whoa."
A gasp escaped someone.
"And you have two usable spells."
She summoned a chalkboard item from the private room and began drawing a transmutation circle. No one knew what it meant. She filled the white space with circles, lines, and curly runes relentlessly. Her hand felt almost mad. When the marker died, she popped a new dry-erase cap and completed the circle.
"The first transmutation circle buys one day. Rescued safely next day, they'll get treatment—but too late, lingering terminally and dying within a month."
"Harsh scenario."
"Some potent viper bite."
Next, NoName pointed to the second circle—far larger and more complex, but with a gaping hole in the center.
"The second completely detoxifies the poison. No aftereffects, perfectly clean."
"Then second's better, right?"
"But you don't know the central rune at all. Might have to guess one from ten or twenty vague ones."
A sure one month, or low odds for full survival.
"Ma... mana shortage means just one shot."
"Which would you pick?"