Top-Tier Instructor

There was nothing but pure cursing, so I panicked and shut the chat off.

They hadn't heard my side yet, so it made sense. Yeah.

That's what I told myself — but when I peeked back in after the explanation, it was more of the same.

If anything, they seemed even angrier?

Why?

I'm the one who should be mad here!

"Siii…"

Still, cutting the stream now would be like gathering a crowd, whipping them into a frenzy, then scattering them all over again. So I decided to keep them around for now.

That said, I was a tiny bit (?) sulking, so I stopped communicating through Notepad too.

What to do… I moved the mouse around.

What else was there for me?

Might as well play Dead Zone.

I'd thrown the stream on in a hurry — no mic needed, as long as they could see the game. And since nobody was listening to me anyway, what good was a mic?

"Hmph."

I sat there in a huff, jumped into a Quick Match like always, and loosened up my hands.

With the sudden surge ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of players recognizing me, I'd already blocked in-game chat.

I ignored everything else and poured myself entirely into the game.

That was a pretty good game, wasn't it?

Only after it ended did I suddenly remember I was still streaming.

Click—

I checked the chat for the first time in a while.

"Hmm?"

It felt like eavesdropping on people whispering among themselves.

"I mean… I did play pretty well, right? Heh."

Getting recognized made my mood melt right back open.

I wanted to show them a little more.

Viewers prefer watching ranked games, don't they?

Every streamer only ever plays ranked, so that had to be it.

My current rank: Platinum 1, 80 points.

Right where I'd left it after dragging Durihyeok down during his Diamond promotion matches.

Alright! Let's do ranked!

Climb streams were everywhere, right?

And so began the ranked climb stream.

First game, and I got snipe-queued — no, griefed.

If it had been the enemy team, fine. But it was my own teammate who started trolling.

Even after the match started, he just camped in a corner of base, swinging his knife. Swish, swish.

His username was "Hyeok'sToenailFungus."

I left the already-ruined guy behind and the game went on five-on-four.

In a team deathmatch it might not have mattered, but of course it was a Capture point mode, where every single player's positioning counted.

I preferred sticking together and only pushing the objective as a group — not splitting up.

"Ugh, whyyy."

With my teammates constantly rejecting my pings, I eventually moved on my own.

I wondered what they were doing — then I checked the map and saw them hunting for kill-farming spots near the point.

So they've already written this game off and just want to protect their K/D?

In Quick Match, where brainless headlong charges were the norm, this was a rare sight.

The novelty of ranked, I guess.

I decided not to give up alone and try for the capture anyway.

Even if it failed, I couldn't just quit, right?

Instead, I'd make the most of those filthy teammates.

I hid along one of the approaches to the point and watched their movements on the map.

I waited until the enemies took the bait and at least one of them looked that way.

Ratatatat-!

After about twenty seconds of stillness, gunfire rang out.

Now!

I sprinted for the capture point. There'd already be enemies waiting, so I lobbed a grenade deep into the fishing spot inside.

BOOM-!

I set up inside and braced for the rush.

They'll definitely throw nades and push in like I did, right?

Sitting in a fishing spot like the guy who just died meant you couldn't dodge. Instead, I'd use the pillar stuck in the middle.

Footsteps soon approached from outside.

Tick— clatter-rattle—

Two grenades came flying in one after another.

If you lined yourself up with the pillar just right, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game's collision let you block them completely.

BOOM-!

I darted aside, dodging one, then adjusted my position so the remaining grenade and the pillar formed a perfect straight line — no margin for error.

BOOM-!

Two grenades, but the messy mix of footsteps said more than two people were coming.

Then the enemy team appeared at the entrance.

Three of them.

I was alone on the point, and three of them came pouring in.

Hugging the only cover — the pillar — we traded fire, weaving left and right.

One of the guys shooting from range decided my mag was empty and charged in deep—

I've still got eight rounds, buddy!

Ratatatat—!

Seven of those eight rounds dropped him. When a teammate bold enough to rush followed him in, I carefully placed my last bullet into the head of the one who'd positioned himself awkwardly—

Tang—!

I swapped to knife in a flash, spun around the pillar, and stabbed straight through.

Three kills in an instant, and I held the point.

To skip the reload, I ditched my gun and grabbed an enemy's weapon. Then I vaulted up and cut down the next wave of enemies still filtering in.

Back and forth.

All over the map.

I farmed nine kills alone on the capture point until my HP hit zero — and only then:

Only then did my teammates start trickling onto the point one by one.

While I was dead for a moment—

Click—

Alt-Tab to switch screens.

"Hee."

There was stream delay, so checking chat after a slick fight lined the reactions up perfectly.

Is this why people stream?

Watching the chat explode over my plays felt good. I got fired up and played even harder, completely overwhelming them until the five-on-four barely registered.

"Heehee."

What? Streaming's no big deal!

Get a kill, Alt-Tab.

Pull off a super play, Alt-Tab.

Win the round, Alt-Tab.

I breezed through my Diamond promotion series 3–0 and ranked up to Diamond 4.

Wanting to show off, I opened Notepad for the first time in a while.

About three hours into playing, the chat definitely wasn't as toxic as before.

Earlier I'd nearly cried, okay…

With the viewer count down to 800, it might not have been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that people mellowed out so much as the worst of the haters leaving.

Whatever.

Clack-clack—

I spotted a question in chat and typed out an answer.

There are healthy viewers too.

They must have had a lot of questions about my plays.

"Ahem ahem."

My shoulders were doing a little shrug-shrug of pride.

If I'd had a mic, I could've explained things kindly while I played. Shame.

Hmm… any way to get a mic?

Nothing at home, so not today.

After some thought, I made a major decision.

Instead of watching chat, I should teach the viewers!

Starting next game, I would give up my precious "viewer reaction time" for their sake.

Until now, every time I did something I'd Alt-Tab to check the chat.

From now on, I'll open Notepad and explain.

Explaining the reasoning behind my plays mid-game and still catching chat reactions? The timing was way too tight.

So, sadly, I wouldn't get to see the cheers pour in — but I'd chosen what the viewers would like.

If I'd turned on a stream, I was a streamer too.

I had to meet the audience's needs.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm~"

A little hum just came out on its own.

"Bye~ See you all tomorrow! Sleep well!"

Momozi — Kim Naeun — dove onto her bed the moment she ended stream, collapsing into it.

Internet broadcasting was live, so something blowing up every single day wasn't exactly surprising. As her experience piled up, she'd thought she was getting used to it…

I-It'll be fine, right?

Except now that she herself was caught in the blast radius, her hands and feet were trembling.

Momozi was extremely on edge about drama erupting so close to home.

Originally, she and Jung Taeyeon had solidly been on the victim side of this mess, so she could have stayed out of it entirely.

But her mouth had gotten her in trouble.

— Hmm? I don't think that was sniping, though?

Too honest, and too hasty.

When she'd gone through DualKingChaechae's chat logs, that was the thought that hit her, so she'd just said it out loud.

Honesty wasn't a crime — but failing to account for the rage of viewers furious over Durihyeok's suspension? That was the problem, if there was one.

The result: a waterfall of hate mail.

But still — those chat logs were way too pure.

From start to finish, nothing but Dead Zone talk. Even the very first message was just bragging about herself.

Either someone pretty old… or really young.

Could be either?

Or neither. Who knows.

"Ugh."

Should I just do follower-only chat for a while?

Durihyeok's suspension had six days left. Things could get worse, so she might have to keep it that way for about a week.

For now, Momozi picked up her phone and opened the link.

There was only one thing she needed to check right now.

Someone said DualKingChaechae went live, right?

A cuckoo had flown into her stream mid-broadcast, so she remembered. What on earth was that person thinking, walking straight into this hellfire on purpose?

She couldn't stand not knowing.

"Huh? Wait, she's live right now?"

Seven hundred viewers.

It had been a while since the stream started, hadn't it? She'd assumed it would be over by now and planned to watch the VOD — but it was still going.

Judging by the thumbnail, Dead Zone. She clicked in.

"Huh?"

No voice, so no mic for now. And chat was howling with rage.

What on earth was going on? Momozi's curiosity was answered soon enough.

Tang-!

One enemy down — and immediately the Dead Zone screen vanished, swapped out for a white Notepad window.

The typing was so fast the Hangul flooded the Notepad in a clatter — and then, Alt-Tab. Back to the game.

"Wh-What? What did that even say?"

The text was tiny, and it had been typed and discarded so fast she had no idea what it said.

Then another kill, and—

A note on the white Notepad — then back to the game.

Over and over. Every time an enemy died or an explanation was needed.

Subjectively, the screen was flipping every five seconds on a good day, ten on a slow one. Whip, whip.

"So they're just capturing their whole desktop and streaming that…"

Meaning the broadcast itself was DualKingChaechae's point of view. Chat wasn't being checked at all.

Now she understood why the viewers were having meltdowns.

The trolls had probably all bailed ages ago.

So the only people left getting tortured are the ones who actually came to watch the skill…

What kind of maniac was this?