The Void Beneath the Laughter

The person going by the handle GatheringMomentumInTheCommunity kept trying to negotiate with me after that, asking if there wasn't some other way.

Listening to him, though, he didn't sound particularly remorseful.

Not that I could claim I was refusing to forgive him over some enormous sum of money, either.

The settlement he offered was a measly five hundred thousand won — roughly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a month's pay from a part-time job.

It wasn't an amount I could ignore in my current situation, but whether it counted as sufficient punishment… well.

It just looked like he planned to buy himself a life lesson on the cheap and move on.

Judging by everyone else's comments, they just wanted to watch the guy make a fool of himself.

Same as when I'd been accused of hacking — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they simply wanted to see the community go up in flames.

The irony, if you could call it that, was that this time the fire was working in my favor.

Anyway. The condition I'd set from the start was that he had to read the post he'd written in front of his parents and bring me a recording of their reaction if he wanted a settlement.

If he didn't like it, he could just skip the settlement and take whatever sentence he got.

Whether that meant a fine or actual jail time wasn't my problem.

After that, I decided to just stream some games.

If I let this nonsense eat at me until I was sitting here shaking alone, I'd only be losing out — exactly like I'd thought earlier.

Right now, I needed to do something fun.

Though I kept half my attention locked on the front door the whole time.

The woman from next door was staying with me and had promised to let me know the moment she heard anyone outside, but still.

A proper watch always takes at least two people, doesn't it?

Since that meant I wouldn't be able to focus properly on ranked, I apologized to the viewers and queued into normals instead — and put on a performance I never would have shown in ranked.

It was the kind of item build that, in ranked, would have gotten me flamed into oblivion and reported for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intentionally throwing.

There was a reason item guides existed, and a reason people talked about item trees.

Gold efficiency, DPS output, utility — all of it mattered.

The items I was buying sat nowhere near that kind of efficiency.

Which was exactly why nobody picked them up when they played Teemo.

And that was why all nine other players in the lobby were losing it in all chat.

Unlike ranked, where the heat of competition had everyone at each other's throats, normals were full of people who were mostly just there to have fun.

Same as my viewers — watching everyone laugh at my items felt good.

It looked nice, sure.

But something about it still didn't sit right with me.

Same with the idiots outside who'd vandalized our place without even realizing they might get caught, and the whole exhausting business of calling the police — and yet the world just kept turning like nothing had happened.

I wasn't trying to call it unjust, exactly.

The world was spinning along this cheerfully… so why was I the only one who had to feel this sour?

Of course I couldn't just look at other people laughing and laugh along with them.

The woman behind me must have picked up on it, because she quietly spoke up.

"Noel. Is the game not fun?"

"No, it's fun, it's just… you know that feeling? Where something's vaguely fun, but also kind of hollow? Yeah. That."

"It's okay to take a break when you feel like that. Everyone knows what happened today — they'll understand."

"Hmm…"

It was a tempting offer.

When I'd ended the stream earlier because of the graffiti outside, the viewers had been completely understanding.

If I said I needed to rest again, they'd probably all kindly tell me to get some sleep and sign off with well-wishes.

But I didn't really feel like that either.

If not this, what else was I even supposed to do?

What could I do once I turned the computer off?

Until the police caught whoever had done the graffiti, I was going to have to keep straining my ears toward every sound outside the door anyway.

And keeping my nerves that tightly wound turned out not to be wasted effort.

Because someone started pounding on the front door — thud, thud.

Not ringing the doorbell. Knocking with a fist.

My hand shot straight toward the knife I'd left on the desk.

"Noel, calm down. We call the police first."

For a second the heat surged up and I nearly grabbed the knife and bolted out — but she was right. I only needed to buy time. I didn't need to turn myself into a criminal.

The door wasn't broken yet, so I set the knife down and picked up my phone instead.

Fortunately, even with my hands off the keyboard, Teemo's passive stealth when out of combat and without further input meant the other players hadn't noticed I'd stepped away — they just kept enjoying the game among themselves.

I'd already opened up a solid lead on the enemy top laner, so leaving for a bit should be fine.

"Is anyone home? I'm the apartment residents' committee chair. I heard someone came by earlier and vandalized the place, so I came to check."

The visitor I'd been sure was here to cause more trouble introduced herself like that instead.

And the voice was a middle-aged woman's.

I stopped mid-dial on the police call.

The woman next to me cautioned me again anyway.

"Just because it's a woman doesn't mean she doesn't play games. Better safe than sorry — why don't you check outside on the intercom first?"

"…You're right, unnie. I'll take a look."

I still had to go out to the living room either way, so I hurried out of the bedroom — no time to dawdle, so instead of crawling I hop-hopped along for once.

Through the intercom, I could see a curly-haired ajumma standing in the hallway in slippers with her arms crossed.

She wasn't trying to hide her face or anything; she looked like she'd just walked out in whatever she'd been wearing around the house.

The outfit alone was enough to tell me she lived here — whether in this building or another one in the complex.

I eased up on the wariness and headed for the front door.

Phone still in hand, of course, ready to call for help at any second.

And I opened the door with the security chain still fastened.

That way, even if someone tried to force their way in, the door wouldn't open past a certain angle — good enough for now.

Through the gap, the curly-haired ajumma immediately scowled and snapped at me, irritated.

"Honestly, kid. You live alone and you just throw the door open like that? You're supposed to ask what's going on over the intercom first. Hmph. Still, at least you left the chain on. That much you did right."

"…?"

Was she annoyed or was she complimenting me?

I stared up at her in silence, wondering what kind of person this even was, and she clicked her tongue once, fiddled with her phone, and opened CocoaTalk.

"Well, never mind that. You're living alone, right? The residents' committee is talking about this whole incident right now, and since you're the one it happened to, we'd like you to join and share your thoughts. I'll show you the link — you can copy-paste it, or just scan the QR code to get in."

"Ah, yeah. Being in the residents' committee group could be good — if something urgent comes up, you can ask the neighbors for help."

I wasn't sure I really needed to join something like that, but with the woman behind me egging me on too, it seemed like something worth going along with for now.

So I did as the committee chair said, scanned the QR code, and entered the open CocoaTalk chat room.

Then, following her instructions, I changed my profile.

Instead of a name, just numbers — so everyone would know which building and unit I was.

"Alright, that should do it. We're talking things over right now, so if you've got a moment, please jump in."

"Ah, yes. Once I finish what I'm in the middle of."

"Sure thing."

If I told her I was finishing a game, she looked like the type to scold me about whether games mattered more than running the apartment — so I mumbled something vague and let it slide. Luckily, the committee chair accepted that and turned to leave.

Still, I was curious what they'd been discussing, so I hop-hopped back to my room and checked the group chat.

…I couldn't tell whether these were digs aimed at me, or if they were joking.