Then I'll Fire Right at the Boss's Heart (2)

The double barrel was one of the loudest weapons in Battle Coliseum. If you compared just the sound, it was on par with the anti-materiel sniper rifle that sometimes popped out of random supply crates. But no matter how loud it was, when gunfire was erupting from every direction, it was surprisingly hard to pinpoint.

Especially for the stream snipers who had to keep switching their attention between their own position and the broadcasters' locations.

Two shots from the double barrel, and one person dropped. Then another. And another. Three names appeared on the leaderboard in the blink of an eye. Only then did the viewers who couldn't see my screen finally react with awe.

The fact that someone had just died right next to me meant I now had the chance to loot them. Whoa, a level three bag. Jackpot.

My usual habit of muttering quietly while playing games was being broadcast loud and clear, which only added to the comedy. On one side, people were screaming for their lives. On the other, I was calmly looting. The contrast was ridiculous.

“Employee? You’re looting right now? We’re about to die over here!”

It’s fine, Boss. You can handle it. Why don’t you show them the taste of that long-handled spear you’ve been training with all this time?

“Employeeeeeeee! Help meeeeeee!”

Oh, a shield battery too. Jackpot.

“Kyaaaaaack!”

Even though it looked like total chaos with no one doing anything properly, I was steadily sniping the snipers and racking up my kill score. The more the two broadcasters drew aggro, the more freely I could run wild. This was the kind of unspoken agreement Cheon Do-hee and I had reached.

Boss, you be the bait. I’ll do the hunting.

But even a herbivore like the boss had teeth. She was more than welcome to bite back and kill the predators herself.

These reactions were burned into her memory like Pavlov’s dog experiment. So even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠while Do-hee was frantically fighting off the incoming enemies, she could glance at the kill feed and feel relieved.

All she had to do was hold on. Then eventually, Jia would come and save her. If she didn’t use the survival skills she’d honed through that evil Mazia’s floor-clearing training now, when would she ever use them?

Besides, indoor combat—especially the three-dimensional maneuvering battles that took place in what we called “rope houses”—was one of her specialties. The factory was a multi-level building with several ropes, so as long as she didn’t make a mistake, she could hold out for a long time.

In a way, this was all thanks to me too. Out in the open field, she would have been turned into a honeycomb by the stream snipers drawn to the double barrel’s noise. So she had no choice but to crawl into the indoor areas full of variables if she wanted to camp out.

Still, the reason more attention was on me than on Do-hee, who was the one actually holding the line, was probably because of the kill feed that kept popping up at intervals of less than a minute. With an insane number of stream snipers swarming around Do-hee, the speed at which my squad was clearing other squads naturally stood out.

Just ten minutes after we split up, the gunfire had noticeably died down.

Out of those thirty-five dead, I alone had taken out seventeen. Excluding the fights between the stream snipers themselves and the few that Momo had killed, the vast majority of the kills in those ten minutes had been mine.

At this point, even the viewers were getting curious. Just what exactly was she doing to kill people so quickly with only a double barrel? It looked like she was bulldozing across the map like some kind of human tank, but the only thing that gave her away was the occasional booming double barrel shots. There was no other way to tell.

It was basically telling Rain to die, but that just showed how many people were dying to see the flare gun’s skills. People who had watched Momo’s streams in the past knew about it, but most of the current audience had come because of the flare gun bait that had set the Battle Coliseum gallery on fire a few days ago.

Of course, the already irritated Rain wasn’t going to stay quiet.

“Hey, you puddles. Even if my skills are trash, telling me to die is pretty sad, don’t you think?”

Up until then it had been the usual back-and-forth, so I let it slide. But then the donations started coming in.

It seemed a bit much to ignore the donations that followed. I, who had been busy hunting, suddenly cut into the audio.

“Hey, puddles. If you keep telling Rain to die, I’m going to start banning people.”

The viewers who had been treating me as the flare gun user were startled. Oh right, this person is Parallel’s manager.

Did I look like I was going to let these two off?

“The person who donated eleven thousand one hundred and eleven clouds will be banned for one hour. Eleven thousand one hundred and eleven clouds is Rain’s personal donation tier.”

Do-hee, who had just barely cleared a squad and was in a brief lull, heard that and let out a sigh of admiration. She had thought I’d thrown both her and Rain into danger purely because I couldn’t control my evil instincts, but apparently that wasn’t the case. It was a move that clearly showed what position I was taking in this joint stream.

Do-hee, who had been too busy dealing with enemies to notice the situation, felt strangely grateful toward me. I must have been busy with my own game, yet I still took care of Rain first. Maybe she’d take care of me too. With that in mind, she whined at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me to test the waters.

“Employee-nim. Can’t you come help me soon? I’m already so tired…”

But while my attitude toward the broadcast was professional, the flare gun inside the game was still pure evil.

“Five minutes later at Sabaody.”

“Hey!”

* * *

Our boss had a tendency to turn even persistent stream snipers into broadcast material. Unless they were the insane types who ruined games that were running smoothly, she usually treated them like slightly mischievous friends. After all, no matter how much you rejected and chased them away, they kept coming back. It was far less stressful to just beat them all up instead of constantly getting annoyed trying to drive them off.

I turned on the stream to do WWE with you guys. Try whatever techniques you want.

The spirit with which she squared her shoulders and stood there like a pro wrestler was truly impressive. Of course, because she was such a durable sandbag, she was always getting sniped whether it was ranked or casual games. The ones who would have stopped if she cried and begged them to ease up only got more motivated when the boss held out to the end.

That was why I had recommended the factory as our landing spot. On a day like today, stream snipers were bound to gather there, but I figured the boss could hold out for quite a while in that location. Indoor battles had practically become her specialty by now, hadn’t they?

And my expectations were spot on. Unlike Rain, who was getting hunted like a rabbit by her own viewers, the boss was genuinely fighting while holding her ground. Her shield and health were always on the edge, but she never actually died. It really looked like she was trying to last the full twenty minutes I’d promised at the beginning.

“Argh! Damn it, can you stream snipers at least be reasonable?! And if you’re coming, come all at once! Did you coordinate this? You did, didn’t you? What are you, fans lining up for a fan meeting?!”

“Boooooss. Save meeeeee.”

“You went down again?!”

“Those poking puddles keep knocking me down and launching meeeee.”

“Then at least take one of them down…?!”

“I did shoot one. Tch. Boss, why aren’t you empathizing? I suddenly feel like I’m about to cry….”

The reason I had specifically set the time at twenty minutes was because that was about the limit of how long the boss could hold out in the special location known as the factory. If she held on until she was barely hanging on and then died, I could tease her with “You were so close, what a shame,” and have another round of fun.

Whether they had predicted that or not, some viewers who had been watching the stream for three years were already riding the nostalgia train and had even put on old trot music.

Just as they were reminiscing about the past, I too still thought about that time three years ago from time to time. After all, I really, really liked hearing the boss scream.

“Employee? Hasn’t five minutes passed yet?”

“Ow, ow, ow, it hurts! It hurts, I said! Stop!!”

“Stop it, you bastards!”

“How many molotovs are you throwing?!”

I liked it when she called me a son of a bitch. I liked it when she suddenly cursed me out. I liked the sigh she let out when she ran into me in random queue. I liked the genuine roar and the raw voice that came out when she was forced to become equipment. I liked how she still thanked me when I helped her win. I liked how she reacted exactly as promised whether it was on stream, at the company, through DingTalk, or through talk codes whenever I pulled a prank on her.

And.

I liked it when, after holding on and holding on until I finally arrived to save her, she immediately roared with thick fury.

“Boss, I’m almost there. Are you still alive?”

“You can tell if I’m alive by looking at my health bar! Are you making fun of me right now?!”

“Busted.”

“Are you trying to—die—?!!”

Yes. That sound right there.

“If you were going to help, you should have done it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠twenty minutes ago!! Is this my fault?”

I chuckled and said, “Then should I go back the way I came?”

“Are you crazy?!”

“You don’t seem very desperate.”

“Hey—!”

When people feel too much happiness, they sometimes mumble things they don’t really mean, as if they’re drunk. And at that moment, their mind is so hazy it’s like they really are drunk, and there are times they don’t even realize what they just said. Just like me right now.

“Hehe, it would be so nice if I could play with the boss like this every day.”

* * *

I didn’t notice while the stream was going because I skipped it quickly, but it keeps popping into my head so I’m eating popcorn while rewatching it. This clip (hehe_It_would_be_nice_if_I_could_play_with_the_boss_like_this_every_day.clip). If you interpret “like this” as “joint stream,” doesn’t that mean she’s saying she’ll keep appearing on Momo’s streams from now on? (Hmm… corn) (Aha corn) So Momo was the one preventing her from streaming (batta corn) Momo has to take responsibility and debut Employee