It's Not Sniping, It's Stream Participation

It had been a week since I'd entered Namgung Joohee's body.

They say humans are creatures of adaptation.

The body that had felt nothing but alien at first was growing more familiar by the day — the scratch of a tank top against the soft swell of my chest, the rush of water that poured out every time I sat on the toilet, and even the beautiful girl staring back at me from the mirror.

— chika-chika.

I stepped up onto the footstool in front of the sink and brushed my teeth, staring blankly at my reflection.

It was a face that should have drawn gasps of admiration, but after a full week the thrill was gone. If I'd woken up as some busty older-sister type, I might have at least copped a feel — but there was nothing like that here either.

"Bleeegh…"

After spitting out a mouthful of white toothpaste foam, I padded over to the computer. The gaming rig in front of me boasted some seriously high specs — it could hold its own against my old streaming PC, and you could probably flip it used for a solid three million won.

Thank god Namgung Joohee had been smart enough not to gut the goose that laid the golden eggs just to pay off her debts. Without this computer, I might have spent the entire week wallowing in self-pity, filming depression content. Or worse — I might have been forced to clock in at some sketchy establishment to chip away at the debt. A fate too horrific to even imagine.

Let's see…

I sat down and clicked open Namgung Joohee's diary, the one I'd been working through since yesterday. To summarize what I'd read so far: Namgung Joohee had been a pretty pitiful human being.

She'd co-signed as a joint guarantor on her father's company debts, and then the bastard had skipped town. A sheltered young lady who knew nothing of the real world, she'd been thrown into society with nothing — and between loan sharks, late fees, penalty charges, and everything else piled on top, the debt had ballooned to five billion won.

And today's entry was from right before I entered this body. I scrolled down slowly and read…

Fuck.

The aftertaste was thoroughly unpleasant. Namgung Joohee's diary was packed with entries hinting at a final, irreversible choice. Which actually explained how I'd ended up in her body. Maybe the original owner had vacated the premises, and I'd just tumbled right in.

"……."

I closed the diary. Curious whether there was anything else worth finding, I clicked through the other folders — but every last one was password-locked. If they were going to drop me into this body, they could've at least pre-loaded some of this stuff into my head. I still vividly remembered having to dig through her resident registration card just to figure out her LoL ID.

Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.

Even though I wasn't particularly sad, tears rolled down my cheeks. I'd been a proud son of twenty-first-century Korea who hadn't shed a single tear during CBR training — but ever since entering Namgung Joohee's body, emotional control had become nearly impossible. It was more accurate to say the body was honest about its feelings. This fragile frame would sniffle and cry at the slightest sadness, and break into a bright little smile at anything joyful. Every time it happened I felt my dignity as a man getting chipped away — but what could I do? Adaptation was the only option.

"Hmph!"

I gave my nose a good blow and tossed the tissue roughly behind me. A person has to live rationally. Better to do what I can right now than sit here sniveling. I slapped my cheeks and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠logged into my LoL account — more precisely, Namgung Joohee's account.

"Heh… heheh."

The moment I connected, the tears from earlier were forgotten as a silly grin spread across my face unbidden. Because the instant I logged in, a brilliantly glowing purple emblem was there to greet me.

Yeah. I'd pushed myself pretty hard this past week. I'd taken Namgung Joohee's deep-sea smurf account and parked it in Master tier — a rank only the top one percent ever reach. Every VTuber group needs at least one gaming ace, right? A Master-tier jungler was a credential that would set me apart from every other VTuber. A weapon all my own.

"About time to fire up the stream, isn't it?"

There was another reason I'd rushed this Iron account all the way to Master. I wanted to build some rapport with the boss before the interview.

In my experience, the most efficient way to get close to someone was to talk about shared interests. In my case that interest was usually games — and no matter how awkward the relationship, after a few matches you'd be calling each other names like ten-year best friends.

And building rapport wasn't limited to friendships. Bosses, coworkers, even juniors. Once you got close, help started flowing both ways somehow. One of the minor life lessons from twenty-nine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠years of living. Who knows? Maybe when I revealed my LoL ID at the interview, I'd hear something like, Ah, so you're that gentlemanly jungler from back then.

With that thought, I clicked my mouse at the exact same moment Gemma hit the find-match button. Gemma and I were both sitting around Master 600 LP. At a rank this high in the top percentile, matching into her game shouldn't be too difficult.

— Clank!

Just like that. The chain-clink of a match found rang out on Gemma's stream, and a moment later the identical sound came from my LoL client. Factoring in the stream delay, that meant we'd landed in the same game.

I hit accept immediately and loaded in. Unfortunately, Gemma seemed to be on the enemy team — her name wasn't visible.

"Can't be helped."

I wasn't about to complain about completely random team assignments. Instead, I'd just make frequent appearances in the top lane where Gemma was sitting. Keep rubbing shoulders often enough, and her affinity for me was bound to shoot right up.

Besides, this wouldn't be my only chance to play with her. Every time Gemma went live, I'd log in at the same time and queue up right alongside her.

Some people might call it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sniping. I preferred the term unauthorized stream participation. Sniping only becomes a problem when it involves stream disruption or toxic play, right? I'd be turning off my own stream during these sessions, same as I always did — so there wouldn't be any issue at all.

Yep. Definitely no problem.

"You fucking piece of shit!!"

A woman's curses rang out crisp and clear inside a six-pyeong soundproof booth. Gemma's stream had always featured liberal swearing as part of her no-filter concept — but was it just imagination that today her voice carried genuine feeling?

"Does that psycho bug bastard Jimus have a personal vendetta against top lane? Why the hell does he only come top?!"

Judging by the viewers' reactions, no — it wasn't imagination. Gemma's chat always lit up harder when she was genuinely furious. Right now the messages were flying so fast the chat was lagging; you could easily guess just how angry she was.

"Who's at the age for smearing poop on walls?! I'm still in my early thirties, okay?!"

And with that, one Gemma fan who'd failed the tightrope walk vanished like morning dew on the execution grounds. Her rage gauge was already maxed out from the enemy Jimus's ganks — and then they'd gone and touched her reverse scale: her age. The result was inevitable.

Of course, tell people not to do something and they only want to do it more. Viewers who'd seen the temp-ban started firing off Cheese donations designed to poke at Gemma's mental state, and her composure was left in tatters. She couldn't temp-ban this many people all at once — and doing so would only fan the flames into a wildfire that would consume her completely.

"AAAAAH!! Goddamn Jimus!!"

In the end, Gemma redirected her arrow of rage at Jimus. And for good reason — in twelve minutes, Jimus had ganked top a full eight times. At that point it was just: clear one jungle camp, gank top, clear one, gank top, on loop. A number that would be impossible without deliberate, malicious sniping.

— tap-tap-tap.

And so Gemma, unable to swallow the injustice, started typing in chat. A streamer typing in-game chat was a net-negative move under any circumstances, and nobody knew that better than Gemma — but to someone already blinded by rage, that knowledge meant nothing.

The chat roasting her played its part, too.

"Ah…"

Gemma clutched her head against the headache. Even without looking at the rapidly scrolling chat, she could guess what it said. Something along the lines of lmao she keeps falling for it and that's actually logical though?

In the end, Gemma left the game with a dismal score of 9/16/0. At least she'd managed a quadra kill at the end to claw back some of her mental state — without that, today's stream might have set a new record for Gemma's shortest broadcast ever.

……What the.

And only after recovering her composure could Gemma properly check her viewer count. The numbers that usually hovered around four thousand had jumped all the way to six thousand.

The toxic element had scaled up right alongside the viewer count, but what mattered to her right now was breaking the six-thousand wall. She'd needed a viewer boost for the new virtual group launch anyway — this was rain in a drought.

……Jimus.

Gemma stared fixedly at Jimus on the post-game results screen. Surely those relentless ganks had contributed their share to that six-thousand number. The timing had been surgically precise — hitting top exactly when Gemma would tilt the hardest. A few rounds of pure rage had leveled up Gemma's streaming ability itself: specifically, her ability to get angry on camera.

Was it on purpose? No — that would make it stream sniping, which is even worse…

Either way, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠viewer increase thanks to Jimus was a net positive. Reviewing the game, they'd just… come top a bit too much. There hadn't been any actual toxic play. One game that makes your blood boil is just part of League, right?

Thinking that, Gemma hit the find-match button again — unaware that her fateful connection with Jimus would not end with a single game.