There's No Such Thing as a Bad Gun

Dinner was a delicious curry.

A true gourmet masterpiece, packed with big, hearty chunks of chicken.

School cafeteria curry was fine and all, but the stuff you ate at home—that was the real deal.

Dad cooked tonight for the first time in ages!

Whenever Mom made curry, she always went with pork or beef.

But chicken was the absolute truth of curry.

She buried her nose in the fragrant bowl and tore into it with pure abandon.

"Mmph-mmph, chicken really is the best. Nom nom."

"Right? Hahaha, see? Chaewon says chicken's the winner too."

Mom, the culinary heathen, grumbled under her breath.

"You two and your uncultured elementary-school taste buds."

"Chick'n tastes better. Mmph."

"Finish chewing before you talk. What kind of young lady opens her mouth while she's eating?"

Outnumbered two to one and still refusing to concede. How unsightly.

Thanks to her newly sharpened survival instincts, she kept that opinion firmly inside her head.

Risking the ire of the household cook just to win a single point of validation would have been pure insanity.

She promised tteokbokki this weekend, after all.

Until just a little while ago she had been sprawled across her bed like some tragic manga protagonist who had failed every trial the world threw at her—miserable, defeated, wallowing.

But good food had a way of fixing things.

Even she had to wonder, What kind of ridiculously simple life-form am I? The mood swing was that extreme.

Still… so what? She genuinely felt better.

That wasn't a crime, was it?

She was cheerfully demolishing ice cream for dessert when Dad asked,

"Chaewon, have you been watching those online lectures properly?"

"…!!"

Oh no.

To get his consent for the streaming app, she had claimed it was an online lecture site and used his phone for verification.

She had rushed through the whole thing, pretending to be busy so he wouldn't look too closely—she never expected him to remember.

She nodded with carefully manufactured calm.

"Yep."

"Online lectures? Mom didn't know about that. You should've said something. Chaewon, want to go to a hagwon? We can enroll you."

She shook her head so hard it nearly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came off.

"No no no no no."

"You're still hung up about missing two questions on last semester's finals, aren't you? You don't have to handle it alone. Just say the word anytime."

Oh, that was really not it.

Her conscience stabbed her right in the gut.

Ow.

She just couldn't bear to waste the 128,000 won already sitting there.

She had even considered telling her parents the truth and getting proper consent for monetization.

But of course.

Yeah, no. I can't say a word about this.

Forget consent—if her grades slipped because of streaming, they'd confiscate the computer, wouldn't they?

She forced an awkward smile, hammered out a few thumbs-up, and fled to her room at top speed.

Straight into a perfect bed-dive.

People said lying down right after eating would turn you into a cow.

Sometimes, though, you just needed moments like this.

She flailed her arms and legs on the mattress until the thrashing slowly died out.

Come to think of it, I barely got any games in today because of the stream.

She had at least wanted to climb to Diamond 2.

Hmm.

Then she would just climb it now.

Time was the one thing she had plenty of.

She bounced off the bed, parked herself at the computer, and booted up Dead Zone.

"Mmm…"

And of course a new dilemma arrived right on cue.

Should I turn the stream on?

Playing while streaming was more fun, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠honestly.

She had already written up the notice exactly as requested, and she had mentioned she might come on again after dinner.

So she flipped the stream on without further hesitation.

Title: something casual like "Climbing."

Streamers like Momoji and the other pros always waited a few minutes after going live so people could filter in.

She, however, couldn't even settle her donations. She was barely on the fringe of being a streamer.

Practically just a viewer herself.

No reason to wait around at all.

What had she even been blushing and squealing and overreacting for earlier?

I should delete the VOD from this afternoon's stream too.

Even that embarrassing commercial she filmed as a kid had at least paid her.

Here she was manufacturing free black history for no reason.

Ugh. Tsk.

Just thinking about it made her mad all over again.

Grumbling under her breath, she queued straight into ranked.

Perfect warm-up material: her favorite 5v5 team deathmatch.

She equipped the Winchester (Win34)—the weapon that demanded the absolute highest concentration.

Only two rounds per magazine, sure, but you could cancel both the bolt-pull animation and the reload animation. Nail the timing and you could go pshu-pshu-pshu surprisingly fast.

Hitting that timing was no joke, of course.

In her case, being broke had forced her hand: when she bought her dedicated weapon cash item, she had skipped the 30,000-won AWR and gone with the 20,000-won Winchester instead.

Naturally she had maxed the weapon out.

And gotten very, very good with it in the process.

The match started.

The moment her eyes met the enemy sniper on the right-side hill, she snapped her scope up.

Bang—!

Then, in the exact window of the bolt-pull animation, she swapped to her pistol to cancel the motion and swung onto the rifleman bursting out from the side.

Bang—!

That was how the Winchester worked—even with only two rounds, you could play it aggressively as a sniper rifle.

And that play had looked pretty cool, if she said so herself.

Might as well check whether any viewers had shown up.

Alt-tab.

The reactions are kinda mid.

Could they not appreciate the sheer glory of that butter-smooth cancel?

Probably because she had just gone live.

Or maybe they simply didn't understand.

You only saw as much as you knew, after all.

"I think the Winchester is actually a fantastic weapon for chaotic fights. If you can't handle the cancels well, sure, stick with the AWR—but when you're solo rushing, it's incredible."

If they don't get it, I'll just teach them!

So she explained it patiently and kindly.

These little—

Why wouldn't they believe her?

And since when was Diamond "low rank"? That was top five percent!

"The Winchester is genuinely great. I bought this as my dedicated weapon and maxed it out, okay? Look."

She hit Tab and hovered her mouse over her glorious Winchester.

She puffed up with pride and showed it off.

"I'm telling you it's not like that. The Winchester is better depending on the situation. Damage-wise, unless you're hitting limbs, they're both strong!"

She had literally just shown them.

If she had been on an AWR, that second rifleman would have killed her first.

She dropped the hammer on the idiot who thought her angry pout was cute, then settled into a staring contest with the deeply unsatisfactory chat.

Ding-!

"Augh. I forgot to turn the volume down."

She thought she had adjusted, but after the break the sound hit her like a truck all over again.

This completely useless donation—just painful for the ears.

How was this better than her Dual King cards, exactly?

"Stop donating. It's just loud and annoying. Watch the game."

Donations? Get out of here. Not accepting.

Money she would eventually receive someday?

Yeah, she didn't care. It felt like getting something only to have it snatched away, and she hated that.

She couldn't even use it right now.

Donation messages had been demoted to nothing more than a chat-reading feature.

"And I don't like your ID. Change it and come back."

Hmph. Foot smell? Please. I scrub them squeaky-clean. They smell lovely, thank you very much.

Even as she finished out the match, she kept turning over strategies for how to convert these thickheaded AWR zealots.

She thought she had put on a pretty good show with the Winchester.

It was like they had built a fortress of denial inside their skulls. These dense creatures had zero intention of listening to her.

Fine. Then I'll just beat it into their bodies.

This was a viewer-friendly stream, after all.

"Chat? Chat this, chat that—you want to do a viewer match? If you don't show up or you lose, you're getting banned."

She clicked one of the usernames in chat, hovered over the ban button for effect, opened a 1v1 room, and waited.

The guy who walked in had the nerve to make demands.

"If you win, you don't get banned."

This punk?

"Excuse me. You need something?"

Huh.

Well now. He knew Dual King.

Her affection meter spiked instantly.

"Deal!"

Lucy? How hard could that be?

She was the girl who had filmed the Magic Wand commercial, thank you very much.

She owned every domestically released Lucy card from the first printing to the latest.

She had never actually watched the anime, but still.

The 1v1 match started immediately.

She, of course, took the Winchester. Tab showed her opponent had equipped an MF5.

His plan was transparent: pick the fastest-moving gun possible and pray for a sniper miss.

Sniper rifles had a big gap between shots, so he wanted to dive into that window.

But what had she just been saying?

Cancel with the Winchester and it shoots faster than you think.

If the AWR's rhythm was

bang—— bang—— bang——

then the Winchester could push it all the way to

bang— bang— bang—

Obviously still way slower than a full-auto rifle.

But unlike the AWR, which died the second you whiffed a shot in a face-to-face rifle duel, the Winchester could squeeze off about one more round.

She sprinted forward with her knife for every scrap of early map control—

and the instant she heard that thud-thud of footsteps, she swapped to the Winchester.

Normally, with a single corner between them, the sniper would hold an angle with the scope ready for the rifle's rush, while the rifle peeked in and out of cover to bait out the sniper's bullet. That was the textbook play.

But.

Tap-tap-tap—!

She planted her feet without the slightest hesitation and charged straight into his position.

He never expected the sniper to rush first. She closed the gap and put a round in him—bang—!

Hmm.

Didn't even get a shot off?

Couldn't react?

A 1v1 map was five rounds total.

Winning round one locked you into a massive psychological advantage.

And once a skill gap became this obvious, the next rounds had zero room left to breathe.

Round two: same pattern, rush, kill.

Round three: he would be braced for another rush, thinking she was just ignoring him—so she played it clean, textbook sniper, erasing angles one by one for the kill.

Round four: his mental had clearly cracked. He full-committed a blind charge of his own. Waiting scope, kill.

Final round: she fired a few casual pistol rounds down the head-height line as a check, and he walked straight into them and died.

"Heheheh."

Dare to provoke her?

She had put a prize on the line too. Time for his punishment.

"Reflect on your sins and come back next time."

Click—

"This is the Winchester!"

Sadly, one match wasn't enough to win their recognition.

She hadn't expected to enlighten an entire population living life ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upside-down in a single night, either.

"From now on I'm leaving a room open, so anyone who wants can hop in. The Winchester is seriously good, I'm telling you."

After that she ran viewer 1v1s and racked up a five-game win streak.

Just when she thought it was finally time for them to admit the Winchester's greatness—

A quiet viewer appeared.

"Sorry? Dojo-break?"

A donation had arrived on a Challenger-tier Dead Zone skill stream.

"Yeah, so—there's this other streamer. She's taking all challengers, saying the Winchester is the strongest gun."

"Ah, is this for another streamer's content? That feels a little weird."

"Hmm."

Forty thousand won is a lot, though.

"Alright. I'll hop over and take a look."