The Streamer's Request
The tight-fitting outfit boldly accentuated her body lines, drawing the eye once more. The dress-like suit, tailored perfectly to her form, made Yorumi's exaggerated movements of surprise stand out even more.
Deep slits ran up both sides of her thighs, designed not to hinder movement. Beneath them, black stockings gleamed with a particularly seductive allure under the fading sunlight. The hot pants hugging her hips were a deep crimson that evoked the color of blood.
She had added external plates around her chest and back to give the appearance of armor, but the sleeveless suit paired with an overcoat that deliberately exposed her armpits and shoulders felt like it reflected the designer's rather shady tastes in more ways than one.
“I guess I’m just more used to this side in the game…?”
“What a shame… I only caught a glimpse, but your real voice is seriously amazing. I’ve never met anyone who could enchant people with just their voice like that. And I’m a girl myself, you know?”
She went from sulking to bubbling with energy again, all by herself. She really was a busy one. As I sat there with a slightly awkward expression, unsure how to respond to that thought, Yorumi suddenly froze mid-motion with a sharp gasp.
“I’m not asking you to turn off the voice changer or anything like that!”
Yeah, even if you did ask, I wouldn’t.
I barely managed to swallow back the words that almost slipped out on reflex. The creeping thought that maybe coming here had been a mistake began to rise.
…I already feel drained and we’ve barely started.
“So, what exactly do you mean by ‘help’?”
“I’ve been going all out every season with the mindset that this time I’m definitely hitting Demigod?!”
“You didn’t strike me as the type to bet your life on tier.”
It was a corner of a tavern just a minute or two’s walk from the Plaza of Meeting. The place wasn’t particularly useful beyond early-game quests, but we settled there anyway. I’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, but since Yorumi was a celebrity, we’d chosen somewhere “people rarely visit” just in case someone recognized her.
The few patrons scattered around were all NPCs. Only after confirming there were no players did I turn my gaze back to her. …I’d knocked her tier down five whole ranks by now. Did she even realize how strange it was to be sitting across from someone like that and smiling so brightly while saying all this?
“Anyway. I doubt you called me here just because you want to climb the ranks.”
“Was it that obvious?”
Yorumi tilted her head, her eyes curving playfully. …For some reason, facing her like this in private felt embarrassingly awkward. I subtly lowered my gaze and ended up staring at her fingers fidgeting on the table.
Beautiful girls are a wonderful invention, but staring at one this intently in a private setting makes me feel like I’m committing some kind of crime.
“You just avoided eye contact, didn’t you.”
“…No.”
This is why sharp-eyed social butterflies are the worst.
“Well, anyway, it’s not for some personal sense of achievement. Saying this right after claiming I didn’t call you here with a calculator in hand feels a bit lame, but yeah, it does involve money.”
Her fidgeting fingers suddenly clasped tightly together and stopped moving. Then Yorumi leaned forward abruptly, her face crossing half the table to stare straight at me. Her peridot-colored eyes sparkled unusually bright beneath the dim tavern lighting.
“You know the Spring Season ends next week, right?”
I flinched and instinctively leaned back, but fortunately Yorumi didn’t seem to mind and continued.
“I’ve been keeping up with the tournament…?”
The Spring Season was meant to select teams for the year’s first international competition. The grueling triple round-robin schedule had been brutal, but only about five matches remained. …I distinctly remembered thinking there was still nearly a month left, yet here we were already. It felt a little unfair.
“Right after the Spring Season ends, they’re planning a fairly large-scale streamer tournament to fill the pro scene’s off-season.”
“Isn’t that something they do every year? Hosted by the streaming platforms.”
“This one feels different, though.”
Even though no one else was around to listen, Yorumi lowered her voice anyway. It didn’t seem like an officially announced story yet. Her cautious demeanor gave way to a noticeably serious tone.
“I heard the Korean branch of Arcadia Online is officially sponsoring it. Apparently they’ve been quietly letting retired pros and people who’ve received pro offers know first.”
An officially sponsored tournament by the Korean branch of Arcadia Online. Yorumi was emphasizing that the implications weren’t simple. The thought crossed my mind that the increased prize pool that would naturally come with official backing might not even be the most important part.
“Are they trying to scout talent or something?”
“It’s probably more about generating buzz. There’s been constant talk about our country’s viewership numbers trending downward, so the company wants to take the lead in providing high-quality content.”
Yorumi’s lips paused for a moment as if choosing her words carefully. A strange heat flickered in her wavering eyes.
“In a way, it feels like they’re intentionally trying to create a superstar to rekindle the interest that’s drifted away. So maybe scouting talent is the right way to put it?”
Nostalgia bait and boosting the new generation. A lure to bring back departed fans and guide newly arrived viewers toward the regular league. However, there was no reason for streamers to simply let themselves be used in the company’s scheme.
“…And by riding the wave of this officially created stage, the participants also get a chance to elevate their own weight class.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, at least.”
I had no idea how Yorumi had gotten wind of this information, but her reaction suggested the source was quite reliable. Maybe she’d even received it directly from the officials. Whatever the case, her goal was crystal clear.
“I want to win. No matter what.”
The playful attitude from earlier had completely vanished. Fighting spirit and competitive drive. I’d almost forgotten amid her cheerful demeanor, but this was the real side of her that I’d actually liked.
A short silence settled between us. Doubts about whether I even had the ability. Calculations about what I might gain if I accepted this proposal. A soft, warm goodwill that said it wouldn’t be so bad to simply help a fellow player I’d taken a liking to. All sorts of thoughts floated around like dust before vanishing, only to rise again.
“Why me, of all people?”
There were plenty of things I could have said, but unfortunately the first thing that came out was a rather bleak question. A cowardly escape that forced rationality onto the other person. A pathetic need for validation that demanded she explain why it had to be me. Regret hit me a beat too late, and in the end, I chose silence.
“Whoa… I didn’t expect you to be the type who cares about that sort of thing?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, as if she hadn’t even considered the possibility of rejection. Her leaning upper body slowly slid back into her chair. The way she touched her lips with her index finger—was that a habit when she was thinking?
“Can I be honest?”
“It’s not like there’s a way for me to tell if you’re lying.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A bright, tinkling laugh burst out, making her vivid pink hair sway lightly. Her gently curved eyes looked especially captivating.
“Ah. You avoided eye contact again, didn’t you.”
“…Just say what you’re going to say already.”
“Well, for one, it’s more comfortable learning from another woman. And among the female streamers I’m close with, none of them are on my level. Even if there were, I couldn’t ask a rival to do something like this.”
A short, enigmatic chuckle brushed against my ears before scattering away with her next words.
“But more than anything… I just have this feeling that if I learn from you, I might actually be able to do it.”
“I’m not really a fan of that whole ‘just believe in yourself’ nonsense.”
“So… what are you going to do?”
The answer might have been decided from the start. The twisted need for validation that had been showing itself in strange ways was quietly raising its head again.