Competitive Spirit
It was content meant purely for bonding — laughing, chatting, getting closer.
There was nothing to lose by befriending Seol Pyo-woo, who was only going to keep rising from here.
The fans, however, did not seem to share that spirit.
Decrescendo and V-Live — the twin pillars steering Pangea TV's virtual scene.
People, at their core, crave recognition. And given the choice, they want a better evaluation, a higher position than everyone else. That is why they fixate on words like first place and victory.
Today was no different.
Even in something this minor, they refused to lose to the rival crew.
The community was already at peak Galde Cup fever over the crews, and for all I knew, some of the people spamming chat right now were the same ones stirring the pot on the forums — the kind who thrived on quietly fanning the flames.
"Alright. If that feels fairer to everyone, I'll go with the will of the people."
It wasn't hard. My capable manager quickly found the site the viewers were talking about, sent me the link, and I shared it with Seol Pyo-woo with a smile.
After that, everyone gathered on the map we'd agreed on.
It was a map that looked straight out of a 1990s classroom — green chalkboard and white chalk, hard individual desks and chairs, narrow hallway windows, and wall-mounted fans. We'd already settled on school uniforms for the outfits.
"Tada! Seol Pyo-woo has entered the chat!"
Hair that looked like a blend of gray and white. Eyes that flicked up at the corners like a slightly fierce cat. A white top and a black skirt. A genuinely charming avatar in an adorable school look.
When she'd first come to Pangea TV, her avatar had been 2D — an anthropomorphized snow leopard. Clearly a lot had changed in the name of survival.
So the ones who survive are the strong ones, huh?
Considering she'd still been making a name for herself right up until I regressed, Seol Pyo-woo was definitely a successful 720p Virtual. "720p Virtual" was the label for streamers who'd transferred over during that whole mess — practically first-generation in Pangea TV's virtual scene.
"I can't lose either. Tada! Cute little Seo-a is here, boop!"
I pointedly ignored the flaming chat and showed off my new school look. If Seol Pyo-woo's outfit was the most basic form, mine paired a white shirt with a gray vest and skirt — less traditional uniform, more cosplay. Which made it that much more appealing.
Minors doing this would be a crime, but an adult in school-uniform cosplay was just part of the bit… ahem. I'll stop there.
"Alright, who goes first? Rock, paper, scissors — loser goes first!"
I called it out as a surprise attack, and the reaction was excellent. Seol Pyo-woo threw scissors; I threw rock and took the win, handing her the first turn.
Going second had its advantages — you could watch the other person's trial and error, peek at their strategy, all of it.
"Shall we start?"
"Yes!"
Tong-dari-chicken answered with full energy. His avatar was buried under a pure-white mascot head — an anthropomorphized chicken — and the way he was pecking at the wall like a woodpecker made him look extremely worked up.
That man had dollar signs in his eyes. Anyone could tell he was a thousand percent serious.
"Hup!"
Since we'd agreed to pick from the same site, I could tell right away which category Seol Pyo-woo had chosen.
Animals.
Animal impressions were definitely on the easier side for guessing. She seemed to have absorbed the viewers' competitive mood too — the way she was this serious about winning said it all.
"Hmm? That's…"
At first she bounced hop-hop, then cupped both hands in front of herself and stroked a big, swollen belly. Chat flooded with so cute, and after a moment of thinking, Tong-dari-chicken's face lit up with realization.
"Rabbit!"
"Eup!"
Seol Pyo-woo shook her head hard with a frantic expression. Even in that moment, the 120-second timer ticked on without mercy.
She gestured again — look carefully — drawing a round shape in front of her stomach with both hands, then miming something emerging from inside.
"Oh, got it. Pregnant woman!"
"Ugh!"
Seol Pyo-woo stomped her feet with a look of pure frustration. I casually tossed a line from the side, just to rattle her a little.
"Heh heh. I didn't take you for this type, Seol Pyo-woo. Your temper's something else, huh? I thought the floor was about to cave in just now."
"Hoo…"
She took a deep breath, got her head back on straight, then ran through the same motions again — this time adding a tail behind her hips, hopping hop-hop, and throwing both hands into a boxing stance.
"Got it — kangaroo!"
"Hah… hah. Correct! Ugh, you took forever. Next one, right away."
Still, once the first answer cracked the door open, the difficulty dropped hard. Tong-dari-chicken had figured out her theme was animals.
"Lion!"
"Correct!"
"Cat!"
"Correct!"
"That looks less like a cat and more like a rear-facing cat pose."
"Referee! That's interference — interference! Keep throwing shade from the sidelines, will you?"
I tried to run interference, but Seol Pyo-woo didn't rattle easily. The first question had eaten some time, but she finished with eight correct overall. Roughly one every fifteen seconds — a solid pace.
Animals really were the easy mode. If I'd known, I would've gone first.
Everything left on the board looked rough. Four-character idioms especially — you could just not know them and never get them. No passes in this match, so I had to choose carefully.
Movie titles are too iffy… then maybe… yeah. Sports it is.
The chance of some obscure winter sport popping up bothered me a little, but every other category was harder.
"Hoo! Starting now."
"Bring it!"
I finished steeling myself and gave my arms and legs a light shake — full-body trackers on. Then the first prompt dropped.
Please be something easy! If I clear the first one fast, I've got a shot.
As we'd just seen, the critical part was getting Tong-dari-chicken to clock the theme. After that, his guessing speed would climb.
Pole Dance
"Huh?"
"Bzzzt! Making noise is a foul — foul! Ref, yellow card please."
Seol Pyo-woo's interference came in hot from the jump, like she was still nursing the earlier hit. But I barely registered her voice at all.
The first sport the randomizer had spat out was beyond anything I'd imagined.
How am I supposed to act this out?
My mind went blank for a second — then I refused to quit. V-Live's crew honor was sitting on my shoulders. No matter how hard the prompt, I couldn't fold on the opening move.
I ran through every pole-dance move I could picture, one by one.
Spinning in circles is impossible. There's no way to lift my legs and whirl around like that.
"Ten seconds."
The longer it dragged, the more the anxiety chewed at me. Every attempt to sell pole dance just reminded me that my room did not contain a pole.
Then a realization cut through.
Even without a pole — if there's something in real life I can use the same way…?!
I shoved my goggles up, scanned the room, and found it.
The bed.
If I climbed up and lay or sat on it, I might be able to sell a floating-in-air pose. I scrambled up and pulled the goggles back on.
"Twenty seconds."
Yes! Got it.
My avatar was hovering off the floor like it was levitating. From there I locked into a pose and spun around with as much flair as I could manage — except being on a bed meant I couldn't build the speed I'd wanted.
"Oh? Got it — Dorai!"
"…"
No matter how I looked at it, that was on purpose. The way he flinched and looked away under my glare sealed it — guilty as charged.
Breathe. This wasn't the priority right now.
This time I stretched my whole body out horizontal, supporting my weight on just my arms like the classic Superman pose.
"Answer: Superman!"
"Since when does Superman fly sideways? You wanna die?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, you are currently witnessing the live exposure of V-Live leader Seo-a's true character! Keep those eyes wide open!"
"…"
Was this what they meant by getting paid back with interest?
Competitive fire surged up all at once.
This match… I was going to win it.