My Own Trump Card

Even accounting for the overlap from multiview, the combined viewer count across our seven streams had already surpassed 8,500.

Let me say it again — putting together a "big board" like this is no easy feat.

Huh? Corporate streamers pull over ten thousand viewers as a baseline, so what's the big deal?

You can't just compare raw numbers.

For one thing, a corporate streamer's broadcast has no cause.

Look at us right now. We had a cause: building Skypia, the sky island that would launch us to number one in server construction. That was why, even with this nakedly obvious cash-grab of a funding drive laid out in the open, everyone was still riding the atmosphere of a festival.

Try throwing donations at a corporate streamer just to get a little attention. Sure, you'll get a thank-you. But if they were mid-conversation with chat, your donation gets buried under the next topic in seconds. If they were deep in content, you should count yourself lucky for a brief word of gratitude. Keep donating without reading the room a few more times, and the chat fills with curses as a matter of course. And with anything short of a massive amount, you wouldn't even get that short thank-you on a corporate streamer's broadcast.

Compare that to us.

"Mayo's gonna record that song instead and split the 1,500 Candy, geosida. Mayo's a singing genius once you just mix it, geosida."

"Whoa! Insane, insane. MusicBox is a real Lucy stan. Three thousand Candy on a song-recording mission for just one person."

"MusicBox just put up a whole pillar on our sky island. Thud, thud!"

"MusicBox, I've never sung this one before, but I'll practice hard and send it within a month. I know you always clock out late and rub your sleepy eyes to watch our streams. Thank you."

Seven streamers poured their hearts into premium-grade reactions. And because the board had been properly set, the viewers' responses were glowing across the board.

On a corporate streamer's broadcast, you would have been lucky to get ten seconds of acknowledgment.

Drunk on that atmosphere, the attention-hungry hardcore fans of each stream — and the casual floaters right along with them — started opening their wallets with even more enthusiasm. Of course, the excellent content ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we'd prepared played a solid part in pushing them toward that choice.

Even with Han A-yeon, Na-ro-si, and my own turns still remaining, the funding window had already undergone a massive shift.

A total funding amount that had nearly hit 290,000 Candy. The clock was already past 9 p.m., but the heat in this place showed no sign of dying down.

That was when I suggested a short break. I had a bigger picture in mind, and rushing things would only get in the way. Sometimes you needed skilled pacing.

"All right, all right — intermission time! You've all been grinding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard, right? We're gonna watch a video real quick. Everyone, hop over to my stream!"

Even the highest-energy streamers needed rest. For exactly this kind of moment, I'd commissioned a Minecraft highlight reel for V-Live Company in advance — a fifteen-minute cut assembled by a high-priced professional, so boredom was out of the question.

And rest wasn't the only reason I prepared this video.

Roughly half the viewers sitting in this room today were floaters — wanderers who drifted from company to company chasing whatever looked fun that day. They were here, sure, but a significant number of them didn't know the core story, which meant they couldn't fully immerse themselves in us. How sincerely would people like that fund us? At best, a token amount just to join the mood.

I needed to shake a little more out of those floaters' wallets.

That's why I prepared this video — so they could sink even a little deeper into our company's story.

Assembling the server's first full set of diamond gear. The emotion of Lucy, after a full week of nonstop fishing, finally reeling in a Mending enchantment book. Mayo and me running lava rescue ops for each other. Miho stacking quartz the hard way until she finally completed a stunning build. The myth of our first Purge Day victory. Treating the Ender World and the Nether like our own living rooms. Hosting the server's first-ever Diamond CK. The bond with Subnitti that started from there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— the way she joined us grinning like an idiot, a loan slave for MyHouse. All the way through our victory on the second Purge Day, the one everyone thought would break us.

It was a spectacular video.

Yeah. This was the victory of capitalism. Satisfied with a video that more than earned its price tag, I waved toward the floaters who now understood V-Live Company's story just a little better than before.

I love you, floater viewers. Mind expressing that affection through Candy donations?

We still had a long way to go before hitting the goal.

February 2023, before the regression.

After following Lucy over to Pangea TV, I watched Akatsuki's landmark construction funding drive. With nothing but Rabbit TV streaming experience under my belt, what I saw looked like pure madness.

Oh Yeong-jun and Kkaenam-i each pulled over 250,000 Candy in funding. Jisuni and Muyo hit numbers close to 180,000. The remaining members all cleared 100,000, and the final total reached an absurd 1.12 million Candy. A funding amount that hard to believe for just six people. Factoring in Candy purchase fees, it was well over 120 million won.

Were Pangea TV's viewers so drowning in money that this much sponsorship poured in just for building something in Minecraft? That was the thought circling my head at the time. On Rabbit TV, where collab culture was rare outside of specific groups, you would never easily see a scene like that.

Later, as I adapted to Pangea TV alongside Lucy, I came to understand the truth of that day.

In the end, the answer was story.

The very thing I'd hammered so hard during the Wooga-dol audition. The story Akatsuki had built over nearly three months — from December through February — had immersed countless floaters, and regardless of wherever their original home fandoms were, inside Rena World it had turned them into Akatsuki fans.

This is the path V-Live Company has to walk.

As a regressor, that version of Akatsuki was an outstanding role model. So from the earliest days of Rena World, I worked to give viewers immersion and stack our story. Grinding myself to death to amass wealth, gritting my teeth through Purge Day performances — all of it was part of that effort.

And now I stood here to harvest the sweet fruit of that labor.

"I... I'll stake a no-sleep-until-clear stream of the jar game — the one I swore I'd never play. The moment Master grants me free time, I'll challenge it right away!"

True to Na-ro-si, skilled enough at variety games that Ssa-yo had nicknamed her the Variety Game Princess, it was a truly bold pledge. Declaring a no-sleep clear stream of that nightmarish jar game, of all things.

Donations poured down in a cascade, and before long the clock was pointing at 10 p.m.

Now came Han A-yeon's turn — the last one before mine. Confident in her stamina if nothing else, she promised a weekend mobile stream climbing to the summit of Bukhansan. For a virtual streamer, it was a pledge that made you tilt your head a little — but that very oddball quality felt fresh, and it pulled a strong response from the floaters.

"...Is it finally my turn? Everyone's pledges have been so stacked that I'm getting even more nervous."

I'd deliberately saved my turn for last. Even though the challenge mission results were set to equal distribution — everyone splitting 1/N the same way — if I alone hoisted the funding log, people would inevitably start watching their own numbers. So I steered the atmosphere to make the floaters empty their wallets on the people ahead of me first. That way, Han A-yeon, whose Candy power was usually thin, and Na-ro-si, still a newcomer with weak public goodwill, could at least save face.

Yeah. I've done everything I can.

A short breath. Then I lifted my head and looked straight ahead.

I was nervous. Over these two months in Rena World — what kind of streamer had I become to the floaters?

I gripped the mic and forced the words out with courage.

This was the trump card I was throwing down.