Anyone for Viewer Participation?

Durihyeok was a streamer firmly in the big-league tier, averaging six to seven thousand viewers.

For the people who only ever watched his channel, that week-long ban felt like the entire streaming platform had been deleted from existence. Even among the floaters who hopped from room to room, regulars of Durihyeok's stream felt like they'd lost a whole channel.

You might have expected the furious fans to go around wrecking other rooms in retaliation for his week-long suspension. Instead, the sniper herself logged on, and for a while the whole community lost its mind.

Peak concurrent viewers climbed all the way to twenty-eight hundred.

The chat was so vicious that people on the forums started saying things like, Okay, but isn't this a little much to be throwing at a regular person?

Of course, the streamer herself never saw any of it—she'd refused to interact and simply dropped the chat window—but that was beside the point. Once the trolls realized they were throwing rocks at a wall, they drifted off one by one. The viewers who'd stuck around out of pure curiosity about her Dead Zone skill poured out their reviews.

Rage for the trolls. Dopamine for the floaters. Curiosity for the gamers. The reactions kept coming in every flavor, and her name started spreading even among players who'd never heard of the whole incident.

And so four o'clock in the afternoon rolled around—that dead hour when the big streamers hadn't clocked in yet and there was no content anywhere.

Carrying every kind of feeling, they clicked into the stream—and what they found was this:

To some she had been the most killable bastard under heaven. Then it turned out the bastard was a girl, and that single revelation plunged them all into chaos.

"Ugh, this is so uncomfortable."

The headset was so big it felt like it would slide right off if I so much as tilted my head. The packaging claimed the size was adjustable and anyone could wear it and so on—what a load of garbage. Condolences to the Nero PC Room owner, who had been thoroughly scammed.

I'd awkwardly practiced a little Ah, hello~ greeting to open the stream, but it was all pointless. I had zero desire to do the same explanation again, so I went straight to Dead Zone ON.

For some reason the second I launched the game the insults dropped off hard, which was at least a small mercy.

"I am not an elementary schooler."

That was the fourth time I'd said I wasn't in elementary school.

They're fighting each other again…

The "you're not a little elementary school boy" comments did sting a tiny bit, honestly. Different gender or not, I'd graduated last year, so it was roughly in the ballpark. I'd been in middle school for more than half a year already, but I still had more elementary school memories than anything else.

Anyway. Elementary schooler or middle schooler, I had no intention of revealing my age. This game was rated 15+ to begin with. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dad's account, okay?

Beyond that, I just didn't want people to know.

If they think you're little they might look down on you for no reason. Yeah.

For all those reasons, age stayed private.

"I'm gonna play. Anyone who wants in, hop in."

Before ranked, warm-up would be viewer participation. Custom rooms could run 8v8 maps, so I could take a full fifteen viewers. Let them bask in the glory of gaming with a streamer!

Just a few days ago I'd been a viewer myself, so I knew that feeling inside out. No more sniping and getting flamed for it—let's do legal stream participation, people.

If everyone stampeded in first-come-first-served, that desperate hunger would just evaporate. If anyone deserved the perk, it was the friends who'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stuck with me to the end. How unfair would it be if some tourist just waltzed in and snagged the prize?

"Yesterday I gave a lecture on Beryl spray control, right? Write how many shots for people who are confident controlling the recoil, and how many for people who find it hard—one each—and then come in~"

Hmph. Fakes, the lot of you.

The heroes who'd been with me yesterday would know the answer. And sure enough—

"Well now, so who are these people who just came in!"

I welcomed the heroes logging into the room one by one with triumphant pride.

And then—

Ding—!

"Hyeek—! That scared me!"

The sudden alert nearly gave me a heart attack.

Ack that scared me—oh, it's a donation alert.

I hadn't touched any of the settings, so the volume was probably maxed. Not that I knew how to change it… I'd figure it out after the stream.

"In-game chat? Why?"

I'd blocked it because of people who hunted me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down in-game just to trash-talk, but everyone here had stuck with my stream to the end, so unlocking it for a bit should be fine.

I went into settings, turned the block off, and looked over at the chat from the victors who'd made it into the room.

"Uh, uhh…."

Lies! That couldn't be right.

"Then how did you even get into the room!"

"……"

What, so yesterday's notepad was hard to read? And I'd just cheerfully barreled through explanations without knowing….

I'd learned something I really didn't want to learn.

"Tch, I only explained so hard because you asked. Fine. Okay. I just won't Alt-Tab."

I puffed my lips out into a full duck-bill pout and just hit start game.

"Wh-what. That's so freaking cute."

At DualKingChaechae's sulky little reaction, the words slipped out of Kim Naeun's mouth out loud.

A girl's voice. And not just any girl's voice—a ridiculously sweet, honeyed tone. The second it hit her ears her brain short-circuited, and she'd just sat there listening in a daze.

She probably wasn't the only one. There had been about three hundred viewers at the time. Now it was eighteen hundred. Somehow word had gotten out, and the count just kept climbing without dropping.

If she had to pick a complaint, it was that the streamer wasn't as smooth at interacting as the full-time pros. Since she played in fullscreen, she had to Alt-Tab every single time just to check chat.

Of course, right now Kim Naeun had a very reasonable suspicion that she was deliberately not looking at chat.

Before, the second she got a kill she'd scramble over in excitement and Alt-Tab to check chat. Now she hadn't pressed it once, and she was busy massacring the viewers in the participation lobby.

Tatatatang—!

Even the speech pattern was different now. Silently mowing down viewers, Woniwoni posted this:

In a hundred-kill goal room, she alone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had claimed forty-two. Sure, unlike quick match or ranked—where the MMR at least tried to balance things—the skill distribution on the enemy viewer team was all over the place, so that was part of it. But still.

For the people who'd come to gawk after hearing the rumor of a female high-ranker, it was a memorable round.

One viewer who couldn't take it anymore sent a donation.

Ding—!

"Hyeet!"

"…Really? Ten thousand won? Insane."

And at last, the chat window appeared on screen. Which meant she was looking at chat now.

"I only have one monitor. A lot of people play like this though—is it that inconvenient?"

A little more delay than checking on the computer, sure, but for the viewers it was definitely the more comfortable method. Kim Naeun herself had done that back when she streamed.

Then came a little grumbling noise—

"Uh, I… I don't have a smartphone…."

"…!"

These days even middle and high schoolers have all switched to smartphones, haven't they?

Adults, needless to say, almost all had them. The rough audio quality of a non-dedicated mic, the janky setup, those long chat walls she'd typed in Momozi's room without a single donation, and more than anything the youthful, unfinished voice—

A student, or maybe an underprivileged kid around the same age.

Ding—!

Ding—!

"Hiiiit! Th-that's so loud, my ears!"

Whether it was the adorable reaction or because they were thinking the same thing as Kim Naeun, the donations poured in.