9. Time to Finally Get Started?
There's a saying: "Men may plot, but heaven decides success."
It comes from one of the immortal masterpieces of East Asian literature, Romance of the Three Kingdoms—a famous line uttered by Zhuge Liang himself. It means that while people might scheme and strive, the outcome ultimately rests in the hands of fate.
Sounds profound and badass, right? But break it down, and it's basically saying life is a crapshoot, a game of pure luck where nothing else matters—just grind the prayer meta and hope for the best.
That same Zhuge Liang who spouted it went all-in on the prayer meta, only to watch his candle flicker out along with his sanity, and poof—he croaked. Relying on luck? Pathetic weakling.
Anyway.
Personally, I never much cared for lines like that. Still, there was a kernel of truth to it that even I had to acknowledge.
Some people hit walls they can never climb, no matter how hard they try.
Pour in every ounce of effort, sprint your whole life toward it—and still, some limits are just impossible to breach. Not everyone can reach the peak; that's just how it is.
Yet in this world, there are folks who leap over those same walls that crush others after a lifetime of struggle—like it's nothing.
The world calls it talent.
And I...
[SeongWon Kill: NAstrasoft01]
[SeongWon Kill: bigmilker]
[SeongWon Kill: JohnRichJ2]
[SeongWon Kill: JohnRichJ2]
[SeongWon Kill: squo0914]
...clearly possessed that talent.
SeongWon's kill log scrolled endlessly upward.
The 33 veteran rotters—slobbering at the thought of stomping fresh noobs and tea-bagging their corpses—soon found themselves flinching, noses smarting from punches delivered by that all-too-familiar rotten movement.
"Fuck!"
"...This is ridiculous. I'm getting wrecked and I still can't believe it."
"Damn it, I pulled the trigger!"
"What the hell? Did I launch the wrong game? Since when did my beloved shitshow V-BAT turn into Soul Frame?"
Her footwork alone was on another level.
To be fair, Seongwon wasn't moving in the textbook V-BAT veteran style. It was more like she had transcendent instincts that let her master VR gaming itself.
Thanks to that, a few users started succeeding in ganging up on the monster noob and putting her down for good.
But the old-timers had already tuned out noob slaughter. Their goal wasn't some "noob tea-bag and shitpost on Reddit" nonsense anymore.
Must catch her. No matter what!
Noob! She's a noob! Gotta show her everything quick!
Please don't abandon our game, please, we're begging you, don't delete V-BAT, we'll behave, we'll treat you right, don't go, please!
Never... never let her escape...!
The thrill of the world's first VR game? Forgotten. Even pro shooters spat and rage-quit.
New players? Nonexistent.
These thoroughly rotten veterans—convinced it was normal to think "newbies come in, I personally chop 'em up before they flop"—now faced something unprecedented right before their eyes.
A noob worth nurturing!
—BAM!
"Haha! This cute little thing. Never dreamed she'd whip up something like an IED—arghhh!"
"Damn, who the hell taught her to lob grenades already?"
"Figures. They always pick up the good stuff fast."
...Of course, whether this was "nurturing a noob" or just veteran-style slaughter was anyone's guess.
If you remembered how to train newbies after rotting in the shitpit for a decade without sniffing one out, that'd be a triumph of human reason.
"Whoa, this place is fun. Everyone's got grit—still charging after I rack up kills like this. God game, god game. Gotta leave a review."
Well, at least both sides seemed satisfied. Good for them.
That day, Seongwon played V-BAT for about four hours.
And the review she left racked up 1.8k dislikes.
I logged out of the virtual machine and stretched lightly.
"Ahh... mmm. Feels good. All the fatigue just melts away."
Four hours flat on my back inside, and my body felt no strain at all. If anything, I was refreshed.
Top-tier model makes all the difference. So plush and comfy?
Or maybe it was just the blood rush after so long without.
Since coming back from that other world, I hadn't exactly spilled any.
People need to see blood now and then, after all.
No wonder gladiator games boomed in Rome.
Even Joseon had that seokjeon polo thing or whatever.
Why do you think boxing and MMA exist?
Nothing beats venting violence through your own body, but for those who can't, spectacles like that let you purge the savagery bottled up inside—at least visually.
Otherwise, people go nuts.
Me? I'd offed at least a few hundred in-game today. Plenty of violence drained. Full marks for stress relief.
With that in mind, I sauntered into the living room—and there was Miley, still blankly watching kids' TV.
Hmm. TV really is the babysitter's best friend for our little treasure.
"Miley?"
"Eek!"
I snuck up and waved a hand; her vacant pupils snapped into focus. She spotted me, hastily straightened her clothes, and stood.
"My apologies, Master. I let my guard down in your presence."
"Nah, it happens. Totally fine."
Anything beat her picking another fight with David Kim over nothing. Pinkfong on infinite loop? Fine by me—if our precious girl stays mellow, this hero's thrilled.
"Last time, you said we'd decide on the streaming launch once Director Cha finishes the support team, right?"
"Yes, Master. Since it's the first step toward the new dream you've set, I judged it best to prepare thoroughly before proceeding. But if you have other intentions, I'll correct course immediately."
Maybe because I caught her zoning out, her response was stiffer than usual. Almost awkward for me.
"No need to be so formal... I trust your judgment too. Starting after the best prep possible feels right."
That said, I figured it was time to check how the plans were shaping up.
Miley—uncannily perceptive, reading my intent from a glance alone, in that subtly creepy way of hers—flashed a faint smile and replied.
"I'll summon Director Cha at once."
Cha Eunho, PD.
No—now TS Media's Director of Production, Cha Eunho.
Lately, Director Cha was grappling with a midlife malaise.
My salary shot up... but I wanna quit...!
Everything was golden when the insane paycheck made his eyes glaze over and he bit the hook.
His wife, who'd been raging about his job-hunting woes, beamed at the number and whipped up braised short ribs.
No more fretting over his bunny-eared daughter's college tuition, and sticking it out at the company might even secure his retirement!
But he itched to quit. Hated dragging himself to the office!
The reason? Simple.
What the hell am I supposed to do here?
No one knew.
This damn company had a gleaming office smack in central Seoul's prime skyscraper—but total staff? Barely ten souls.
And not a single one knew what they were actually supposed to do.
"Support the Chairwoman or whatever"? How? What even was her internet streaming gig?
You need some source material for angles, hooks, or formats—and they had zilch!
Made no sense.
Then the summons came from above.
"Hyung-nim... The Chairwoman's calling for you..."
His pitiful assistant director—the one who'd sworn brotherhood with him over raw fish at that hole-in-the-wall sushi joint, vowing to stick it out—reported with resentment in his eyes.
Director Cha dodged the gaze, thinking:
Chairwoman... Yeah, gotta see her. Seeing her will make it clear.
His job was supporting her streams, after all. Meeting the "Chairwoman" would snap everything into focus.
He left the office and headed to the spot the AD mentioned. This time, a different company appeared.
"Top Star Korea Branch...?"
The sign blared Top Star Inc. in bold letters.
Okay, so TS Media's "TS" was short for Top Star. Got it. But he'd never heard of this firm before.
And this is Yeouido, right?
Pocketing his bewilderment, he entered the building—and realized with a jolt that this was an investment firm.
And unlike apocalypse-ready TS Media, this place was buzzing with actual operations!
Shit.
The curse slipped out, but the 270 million won flashing in his mind sealed his lips. Following the secretary's lead, he made for the president's office.
Stepping into the frosted-glass executive suite, he saw three people.
One: the blonde white beauty he'd met before. Another: a middle-aged man who looked a tad older than him.
And.
A girl plopped squarely in the executive chair.
Huh? A girl?
As cognitive dissonance hit and he gawked, the middle-aged man clapped lightly.
"Finally here. Madam Chairwoman, this is Director Cha Eunho. The genius PD who produced two mega-hit variety shows that rocked Korea back in the day."
"Oh? Never watched variety shows myself, so I wouldn't know."
"Haha, fair enough. Truth be told, I only learned from the headhunter too—no direct knowledge of his works. But the data shows they were massive hits."
"Your intel's lacking. For the man planning Master's future streams, shouldn't CEO Kim know it inside out?"
"Ha, ha... Well, we'll see his skills firsthand."
The man smiled at him, but Director Cha caught it instantly: smile on the face, eyes cold as ice.
Years grinding as a terrestrial PD had honed his instincts to a razor's edge.
Reading intent from eyes alone? Child's play.
That look screamed: You insane? Bow your head and grovel. Now.
"Cha! Eun! Ho! Director! I'll give it my all!"
Abs tightening, head bowed low, he scanned the room—and pieced together the dynamics.
The middle-aged man and the white woman were rivals, evenly matched. Their auras crushed like overwhelming pressure, squashing a normie like him flat...
And...
M-monster...
Even those two were watching the girl's mood. What kind of girl commanded that from such titans?!
Trembling in terror, desperate to bolt, the weight of family duty pinned him down. So heavy, the breadwinner's burden!
The girl eyed him steadily, then muttered something like "Eh, good enough?" before pulling a tablet from her briefcase and handing it to the white woman.
"Miley."
"Yes, Master."
The woman called Miley took the tablet and passed it to Director Cha. He accepted it reflexively, staring blankly.
"Wh-what's this?"
"Madam Chairwoman's gameplay footage, edited. Watch this first, then we'll talk in the conference room."
He glanced down at the tablet.
It showed a paused video titled [My Insanely Epic Plays Collection of All Time].
In this grave moment, the sheer absurdity nearly drew a snort. What was with this half-assed meme-title attempt?
"S-sorry, why's the title like th—"
"I named it."
The girl said it with a pout.
Director Cha suddenly craved death.