The Visible Hand

I turned the stream on, and the place went straight to hell.

I'd said I'd be back tomorrow and then vanished, so the viewers' fury was only natural. If Lee Yeonju had ever gone dark without a word, I probably would have met her the same way the moment she came back on. These days I was neglecting her streams, busy as I was with Haven Online.

"Hm."

The viewers flooding in by the second fell right in with the mood. I'm an attention hound myself, so an atmosphere like this didn't feel bad. A broadcast, by nature, is something you turn on to talk with the people watching. Streaming while hoping only the reactions you want will appear is selfish, and it's one of the things that sends viewers walking. None of that mattered to me. I hadn't turned it on to communicate. I'd turned it on because I was bored, and because it was fun.

"Keep acting like assholes and I won't turn the stream on. How's that?"

"Let's watch the game in peace, yeah? I stream only when I feel like streaming."

The moment I came on strong, the chat flipped all at once. More of them were riding the mood than actually scared. Honestly, this sort of thing is close to a gamble. If too many viewers sour on you, the whole broadcast atmosphere goes to hell. But I don't care whether it goes to hell or not, so it isn't a gamble.

"This is a hobby stream, so please don't measure me by professional-streamer standards. Do that, and from here on I'll handle every cash-shop pull you're curious about myself."

Even if the only people left were viewers who worshipped me, that suited me better. Once the mood had been more or less put down, people got curious.

The reason for the break I'd posted in the notice. My mouth itched. I didn't bother saying it anyway.

"I can't tell you. People might show up. If I feel like it later, I'll do an online housewarming. You all watch me so much."

I did about thirty minutes of light talk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and was about to move into the content I'd prepared when I noticed the average viewer count had climbed.

"Is today some kind of holiday? Thirty thousand viewers."

For the sake of the crowd that had grown, I showed it once.

Sarang donated again, and the chat heated right back up. She didn't stream herself, but a donation from a popular idol you saw the moment you turned on the TV felt a little like talking, indirectly, to a celebrity on the screen. Maybe that was why. On top of that, I was surprised she wasn't someone who had only peeked in once. She was still watching.

"Whoa. Sarang, didn't you say you were a celebrity? You're watching my stream again. Thank you."

The recommends came in first.

"I do have a plan, all right? I'm going into a level 1, one-star dungeon for now. I think I need to prep some skills and items first. Just tell me about that."

The moment I asked the viewers, information poured out faster than I could read.

"Ah, sorry. One at a time. One at a time."

"Hm. Should I?"

It didn't have to be a streamer. Anyone who actually knew a lot could guide me well enough, couldn't they? It wasn't a bad suggestion. Still, I couldn't pick just anyone, or the people watching would get frustrated. I had to choose carefully. I asked once.

"Is there anyone who can help? Money's no object. Someone who can set me up in a clean, no-nonsense, endgame-tier build."

Chats climbed without end. Then a donation landed that smashed every one of them at once.

"Uh……."

"Well, if that's what everyone wants…… She did donate. But is it right to take money for a consultation? Feels like I should be the one paying her."

The viewers seemed to want it too.

"All right, then. But, Sarang, do you actually know Haven well? If you're a celebrity, I wouldn't think you get to play much."

If I had one worry, it was this: the person I needed right now was someone who knew the game. Not someone who merely liked it. And from the way Sarang talked, she seemed like someone whose wish to see my five-star class was running out ahead of everything else. I thought my eye for people was reasonably sharp—right up until I collected an endless rain of hooks.

The explanation, from the person herself. And the viewers, piling on after it.

"Oh."

That had been a serious discourtesy. I bent at the waist on the spot.

"Please come right away, Sarang."

Not long after I said it, a murmur rose from one side of the plaza. The huge crowd that had been gawking at me split apart. And Sarang arrived, a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠robe drawn over her.

"Hello, Siwoo. I'm a fan."

"Waaah!"

"It's Sarang!"

"She's gorgeous!"

"Whoa."

When she drew back the hood, I understood why people cheered the name Sarang. She was fucking beautiful.

"You're beautiful."

"Thank you."

Black hair spilled in a glossy sheet past her shoulders, set off by skin so fair it seemed to shine. Her face was genuinely small, the features fitted into it with such economy that I wondered how they all found room—and yet her eyes were large, her nose straight and fine. Her lips were full and red, and the smile that showed when she laughed was bright enough to lift the mood of anyone looking. There wasn't a harsh line anywhere on that face. Follow the jaw—slender, but not sharp—down through the neck and the shoulders, and the collarbones came into view.

Sarang. Lim Sarang, leader of the girl group Lovely, was fairly tall as well, somewhere around five foot seven. A chest as full as those deeply cut collarbones. A waist drawn tight. Hips that looked all the fuller because of it. Even in a robe, a figure like that could not be hidden.

"You really nailed the character creator."

"Sorry?"

She was so perfect I couldn't help accounting for the fact that this was a game. A celebrity would be pretty, of course, but she must have touched it up a little. Another baptism of hooks scrolled up, though, and I checked Lim Sarang's expression. A smile, just a little flustered.

"Ah. Don't tell me this is exactly how you look in real life?"

"Yes. Hoho. Does it look retouched?"

Lim Sarang's personality was just as straightforward. I shook my head at once.

"Kidding. Just kidding."

"You're really awful. I could live with 'who are you,' but this one actually stings."

"I'm sorry."

I ought to look her up once today's stream ended. Boos were crashing down on me, so I hurried to change the subject.

"Still, is it all right if you don't hunt today? You're a ranker."

"Oh. I had a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunt planned, but I dropped it. How am I supposed to resist guiding your gear setup, Siwoo?"

"Where do we start?"

"You're going to build me the best there is, right? Even if it's gear I'll only use for a little while."

"Yes. Of course."

"Good. Just trust me! I'll set you up even better than I set myself."

Watching Lim Sarang burn with enthusiasm, I felt I'd been right to leave it to her. I followed as she took the lead. For the first time, I stepped out of the plaza.

"Wow. This is the first time I've left the plaza since I started this game."

The place Lim Sarang headed for was a bank.

"Mind if I see your hand?"

At those words, spoken right there in front of it, I held my hand out. Lim Sarang took the right hand I'd extended and opened it, then turned it toward the broadcast feed.

"First, it has to be a visible hand. You don't have any Haven money, do you? Let's start with the exchange."

She was saying that to someone who had burned through over ten billion won in the single week since launch. It felt like being treated as a beggar. I scowled and opened my wallet.

"……There's nothing."

I didn't have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even a thousand won in Haven currency.