Jia Goes Her Own Way

Unfortunately, I only won the first match. After they got a single taste of backstabbing me, the spawn campers started knocking me down the instant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the round began and openly marked my every movement. There was nothing I could do. Even a pro player would have thrown in the towel in that situation. No matter how hard we thrashed around with extra bodies, it was an overwhelming numbers rush we simply couldn’t beat.

Of course, I wasn’t particularly angry about failing to win every game. I had done everything possible, and I’d spent a full four hours gaming with the boss. There was no way I could feel bad even if I tried.

So even though I normally wouldn’t have reacted to a donation like this, I gave a response. “The donation just now is pretty funny, actually. We watch the streams in the same chat window every single day.”

“Anyway, starting tomorrow I’ll be back in the members’ streams as a viewer among viewers. Like the boss said earlier, we’ll meet again if the chance comes. Thank you so much for today. Please continue to take good care of the boss and the first generation.”

The boss didn’t say anything else, and the ending felt clean. Up to that point, I remember everything being perfectly ordinary. The forced hate campaign attached itself exactly one week later.

The one gallery user who had been defending me suddenly flipped like he’d been hit with a hypnosis beam and bit me instead. Was I really that bad? No way. I had carried the game while lugging around two literal dead weights and doing manager work on top of it. When I appeared as a vicious guest on the boss’s stream everyone only praised me, but the moment I streamed myself they dragged me down? Maybe I just hadn’t noticed, but perhaps my skills really had dropped after my body shrank.

I didn’t mention it yesterday, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but it was true that my hands had become smaller. Because I was conscious of that, my endurance in games had fallen compared to usual. Since this was Battle Colosseum—where I get as serious as the boss—I found myself a little bothered by it.

Thanks to that, after work I spent more time than usual grinding ranked games alone. Not because I wanted to show anyone. I simply wanted to review whether I had actually played poorly. The result of ignoring even my usual favorite edited clips from the overseas server and focusing solely on games was this:

Completely random in-game harassment. The problem was that once two, then three people started doing it, I began to wonder.

…What the hell? Why does everyone talk like they know it’s me?

Carrying two double barrels in ranked definitely makes you stand out, but plenty of people had copied me before and the nicknames were all different, so I thought it would be hard to pinpoint me specifically.

“Maybe they just throw the accusation at anyone who looks suspicious…?”

Life really does throw everything at you eventually. I had expected more people to recognize me, but I never thought my secret sub-account would get exposed. Time to make the 21st account. It was already late, but I should at least check my placement before sleeping.

* * *

The next day, Do-hee returned to the office after lunch, clicked the link Rain had sent her, and burst out laughing.

“The squad members really are working overtime.”

The page had only been created last week and contained just a few simple lines of information. Now it had gender, affiliation, and even short anecdotes from her broadcasts. The article was packed with text—basically the profile of an internet streamer with tens of thousands of subscribers who simply hadn’t debuted yet. Almost every piece of information the public could know was included.

“Still, for something getting this much attention, there aren’t any major problems… It’s peaceful.”

If she had made a mistake during last week’s broadcast with Jia, this peace would never have lasted.

Sipping the iced Americano she had bought from the first-floor café, Do-hee leaned back comfortably in her chair.

For about three seconds.

“Ah, shit. This damn mouth of mine.”

She had just cast the ultimate jinx spell—the kind that guaranteed something would happen. Still, even if it was a slip of the tongue, the situation really was relaxed. More than a week had passed since the broadcast, and although “Signal Flare” and “Staff D” kept coming up in communities, nothing had exploded. A few people had announced they would spread dirty memes, but after a couple of victims they were immediately suppressed by the armband squad.

Of course, some blame also fell on the guy who had clicked a post titled “Parallel 2nd Gen Staff D Face Leak.” Anyone could tell it was a clickbait title.

“…Still, just in case.”

Once the uneasy feeling that something might happen settled in, Do-hee decided to go over every ongoing task one by one.

First-generation 3D models. Scheduled for completion next month. Quality and polygon count are perfect.

First-generation debut anniversary collaboration song. The label sent a sample and it turned out better than expected. The kids are practicing hard; recording begins in three weeks.

Second-generation application documents. Banner production complete. External company currently doing final check on site traffic.

“Planning side is fine…”

Next, operations. The first thing she checked was the first-generation broadcast schedule. Rain was still grinding Battle Colosseum, trying to escape Iron this week while cursing at the swamp. Maru had brought in yet another puzzle game. Komari was doing ranked in Night of Legend, and Dora was…

“Huh.”

Cheon Do-hee looked at the game title two or three more times. No matter how many times she read it, it was Pandemic Village.

“A horror game?”

The latest entry in the globally popular horror series Pandemic Village. A masterpiece package that combined horror and FPS. It was a bit gory, but they would slap a 19+ warning on it so there shouldn’t be any issues. The real problem was that Dora was the one playing a horror game.

Cheon Do-hee checked the time and immediately called Mazia.

After nearly a full minute of ringing, the call was about to go to voicemail when it finally connected.

[Yeees…]

The voice was weak, like she had just woken up, but it was still unbearably cute. Thinking what a blessed voice it was, Do-hee spoke.

“Jia. Dora’s doing a horror game today.”

Mazia yawned several times before mumbling a long while later.

[…Mmkay. Can I order sandwiches from the usual place later?]

*

“Hwaaam.”

Even after finishing her shower the yawns kept coming. I really should have moderated my gaming. I left a towel on my still-damp hair that refused to dry quickly and fiddled with my phone. Checking Akari Dora’s account, the schedule had definitely changed.

The moment I saw the words “horror game,” the first thing that came to mind was the penalty for being late. It was a promise Dora herself had made. The member with the most tardies in the first generation declared that after ten late arrivals she would play a horror game recommended by the viewers.

“Already ten times? It’s only been two months.”

Normal office hours run from 3 p.m. to midnight, but whenever Dora plays a horror game I stay at the company until the stream ends. Dora herself tries hard not to make mistakes, but whether it’s because of her naturally poor motor skills or pure terror, she slams into desks and everything around her whenever she gets startled, causing constant equipment issues. Since she has zero technical knowledge, she can’t fix anything herself, so the broadcast often grinds to a halt.

When that happens, viewers naturally get furious. Just think of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the pauses that occur during Night of Legend matches. No matter how much the casters try to fill time with chatter, if the delays keep eating into the schedule anyone would get annoyed. And that’s with a whole casting team. Imagine a solo internet streamer who has to fill the audio all by herself. If the sound dies on top of that… it’s pure hell.

The audio interface issue from a few weeks ago that looked like it was fixed easily was actually one of the painful reasons Dora’s live viewers kept falling into the abyss.

Of course, if I’m going to be on standby at the company anyway, wouldn’t it be easier to just wait at Dora’s house? Still, the idea of a male employee waiting for hours at a female coworker’s solo apartment just because “I’m worried equipment issues might pop up” doesn’t exactly paint the best picture…

“…Wait a second.”

I tilted my head. No matter which way I looked at it, the person reflected in the mirror was a single cute girl fresh out of the shower.

“Doesn’t this mean I can just wait at Dora’s house?”