Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Good Kids Get Double
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Quickly grasped the situation.
I'd turned on the stream, brushing off the faint bruise from getting hit, figuring something like this was no big deal.
That seems to have been the mistake.
The fact that I'd gotten hit by someone must have come as a shock to them.
Humans are wicked enough to leave you sticking out your tongue in disbelief, yet they overreact wildly to any real violence.
"Ugh..."
This is odd.
Is this really worth such a huge reaction?
Even after digging through this body's memories, I still couldn't figure out why this situation had everyone in such an uproar.
Not just from my Demon Realm days—violence was a dime a dozen in this body's memories too.
Licking the sore spot inside my mouth, I scrolled through the chat window.
Maybe the viewers were just messing with me, but the emotions packed into those chats were way more intense than any prank called for.
I had no clue how to defuse this.
"P-Please don't get so worked up... I'll watch my words next time."
I threw out some placating words to calm the chat, but nothing came back right away.
Watching them all furious over the fact that I'd been hit, a certain memory bubbled up, and I stared at the chat with cold eyes.
"...Not that I have any room to talk in this atmosphere, but didn't you lot say you wanted to smack me on the head?"
I definitely remembered seeing chats like that.
If that counts as violence, then why blow up like this over this?
"I wouldn't know how it's different, but you all secretly care about me, huh."
Swung my legs, which were floating off the floor.
Still didn't make sense, but it wasn't a bad feeling.
This was only my third stream.
Put differently, we'd only known each other for three days at most.
And even that's the max—some were on day two with me today, and others were total newbies.
Way too short a time to build shared memories, understanding, or any real bonds.
Viewers and I—we were still strangers to each other.
That's what I'd believed.
No matter how stunning my looks, that was an ironclad fact.
But here they were, raging over a near-stranger like me getting hit. Astonishing.
"I might've misunderstood you all."
"Nothing big—just thought you were a little wicked, is all."
Humans are wicked.
That was my baseline assumption, so even when they sent praise-filled chats with donations, I'd still seen the viewers as wicked humans helping me out.
Donators: wicked, but grateful helpers.
Praisers: wicked, but mood-lifters.
And so on.
But looking back now, they were way better than I'd given them credit for—no need to slap "wicked" on it.
"Of course, anyone who doesn't donate or praise is still plenty wicked."
Better make that clear.
"...If you hate being called wicked that much, couldn't you just praise me instead of donating?"
Did I skip mentioning that midway? No.
I'd said it clear as day.
Praise was good too.
So why were they herding everything toward donations?
These were the same folks mad for me, but not a single direct compliment even after I spelled it out.
"Humans really can't be trusted."
"Right, my mistake for trusting you all."
Fortunately, the whole "I got hit" thing seemed to be blowing over.
Sighed in relief and refocused on the stream.
I'd resolved to stream my heart out, but content doesn't just magically appear.
Best I could do was fire up the safest, longest-running champ—the game holding the #1 spot for 149 straight weeks.
LoL.
Not the warmest reception, but I had my angle.
While researching streams online last time, I'd stumbled on a novel about internet broadcasting.
A story of someone rising to instant fame with overwhelming skill on a "skill stream."
It hooked me.
Sure, novels are pure fantasy, but what if I actually had that kind of talent?
Truth be told, I'd tested it out with three games before bed last night.
Aced two of them in bot matches. Doesn't that mean I could pull off the novel's plot too?
"I possess talent."
"Smurf...? Do I strike you as the type to stoop to that?"
I'd studied up on the game right after reading that novel.
Smurfing was something only degenerates did—stepping down from their proper league to massacre worse players for kicks.
Utterly repulsive by my standards, utterly intolerable.
"There's one thing you don't know: Yesterday, I ran bot matches and aced two out of three. If that's not talent, what is?"
"Don't you dare dismiss bot matches—bots move in ways more terrifying than you can imagine."
I scoffed at their prophecy of some "reality" blocking my path.
If reality dared stand in my way, I'd shatter it with raw talent.
Not that I was invincible—remembering my pathetic third-place wipeout at last tournament soured that thought.
But this time was different.
I had talent.
Launched the game. Viewer count: 84. Definitely down from yesterday.
But not as bad as I'd feared—must be the looks carrying me.
"Aren't you all lucky?"
"You tuned in early—means you get to bask in this face longer than the rest."
"No bad words allowed."
Madness's voice cut in out of nowhere, and the chat lit up again.
...At this rate, wouldn't it be better to just have her run the stream instead of me?
"Sister... why not you do the stream? They like you more than me anyway..."
All my energy drained away.
They acted like they cared about me, but preferred her over little old me.
Hell, if Madness streamed instead, we'd probably be in the triple digits by now—that suspicion lingered.
"You like Sister more than me anyway, so why pretend otherwise?"
"W-What...?"
Someone who could drop 100,000 won in one go actually existed?
No matter how you sliced it, that had to be a input error. I wasn't so rotten as to pocket a mistaken donation.
"M-Must've been a failed 10,000-won attempt. I'll refund it—send the right amount next time."
The absurd sum left me speechless.
Sure, it'd hurt to give it back, but...
This body's original owner, Ida Yeon, would've taken a wallet found on the street straight to the police station—not stolen the cash. I'd seen that memory.
I followed her lead.
100,000 won.
No small change—practically a fortune, tough to handle.
Swallowing it whole would massively help me and Madness's life.
But flip that around: it meant 100,000 won was big for the donor too.
Thinking of them suffering a huge loss from one slip-up...
Way better to refund it out of basic decency.
I wasn't wicked like humans.
Just plain common sense, right?
Hands shaking in bewilderment, I pulled up the donation site to refund the fresh 100,000 won when—
Another donation ping.
...Was I seeing things?
20,000 won, right?
Had to be 20,000.
Furrowed my brow and, slowly...
Very slowly, counted the zeros from the end.
Must be another mistake.
Again, fingers spread wide this time, folding them one by one to recount.
No change.
"......Huuuuek!"
I let out a bizarre shriek.