A Showdown with the Snipers

For any streamer, stream sniping was an inevitable rite of passage. That was simply the nature of living in the public eye. Just as celebrities suffered from stalkers and obsessive fans, gaming streamers were constantly plagued by stream snipers. When you broadcast to hundreds or thousands of viewers, you attract all kinds of people, including some rather peculiar specimens. There are those who simply want to tease the streamer and watch them suffer, those who are inexplicably angry at the world, anti-fans who just hate the streamer, and attention seekers who thrive on seeing themselves on screen...

Like moths to a flame in the dead of night, the brighter the broadcast shines, the more pests it attracts. As a stream grows, the scale and sophistication of these snipers evolve right along with it. For massive streamers averaging around ten thousand viewers, there are entire group chats dedicated solely to coordinating snipes. At that point, streaming and stream sniping might as well be packaged together as a bundle deal.

There is even a running joke that getting sniped is a sign of a healthy, growing channel. Some top-tier streamers even turn their snipers into content, using them to make their live broadcasts more entertaining and dynamic. But those cases are the absolute exception. "Good" snipers who actually help set up funny moments are treated like mythical unicorns—rare, legendary beasts. Besides, anyone with that much wit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and sense wouldn't resort to stream sniping in the first place. For the vast majority of streamers, snipers are nothing but a nuisance and an annoyance. Han-ah, of course, fell squarely into that majority.

Of all times, why did it have to be now?!

Her concurrent viewership had just broken past 2,500. She was hitting a legendary new peak, the highest in her entire streaming history, only for these pests to barge in and ruin it. No, actually, that was probably exactly why they had targeted her. Snipers possessed the exact same toxic, griefing mindset as internet trolls. They probably couldn't stand the sight of Hanya succeeding.

Han-ah's face contorted as painful memories rushed back. The time she faced a sniper in her Master promotion series and lost; the very next game, where that same sniper ended up on her team and intentionally threw the match. In the end, she had failed her promotion miserably, and she had never managed to step foot near the threshold of Master tier again. As someone who was genuinely obsessed with Asteria, that wound cut incredibly deep. For a long time after that, she would react with extreme sensitivity whenever she encountered a sniper. Once, she had gotten so angry that she rage-quit her stream, abruptly shutting it down. Because of that, she was dragged through the mud on online forums, with people mocking her, saying she pretended to be cool and easygoing but was actually just as hysterical as any other female streamer.

Grim messages flooded the chat, mostly from her long-time subscribers. These were the people who shared those painful memories with Han-ah. To a streamer's true fans, snipers were nothing but scum.

"...Should we dodge and find a new match? I'll take the penalty."

Han-ah spoke the words, but her mood was sour. Dodging during placement matches counted as an automatic loss. She had genuinely wanted to aim for a perfect ten-win streak alongside Jeong-ah, but... she had no choice. The snipers were here solely because of her, the streamer. It was only fair that she took the fall and shouldered the loss by dodging. At least she was on an alt account; that was her only consolation. She would dodge, settling for a 9-1 record, while Jeong-ah could still go for the perfect 10-0. As a gamer, it was incredibly frustrating to lose her momentum like this, but just as she was trying to figure out how to salvage the broadcast's flow—

Jeong-ah spoke up beside her, her voice perfectly calm.

"Doesn't dodging count as a loss? And you'll have to wait five minutes to queue again."

"It does, but... playing against snipers is basically a guaranteed loss anyway. We'd just be throwing away thirty minutes of our lives, and losing like that ruins your mood."

"Hmm. Is it really a guaranteed loss? Is there absolutely zero chance of winning?"

Seeing Jeong-ah's skepticism, Han-ah patiently explained the reality of the situation.

"The bastards—sorry, the people who snipe streamers are incredibly toxic. They ghost your stream as a baseline, and their actual skill level on their main accounts is probably at least high Diamond."

The unholy trinity of stream sniping, screen-watching, and smurfing. Han-ah shook her head in sheer disgust.

"I mean, it's better than having them on our team and actively griefing us... but still, winning is going to be an uphill battle."

They had avoided the absolute worst-case scenario, but this was barely any better. Facing opponents who were actually skilled and knew your every move was a complete disaster for lower-tier players. Even after hearing all this, Jeong-ah seemed lost in thought. With the match countdown ticking away, Han-ah placed her hand on the mouse, preparing to dodge at the last second. That was when Jeong-ah spoke.

"Um, can we try playing instead of dodging?"

"What?"

"I want to try playing against them. Is that too much to ask?"

Jeong-ah's calm demeanor was no different from when she had confidently declared she would win all ten of her placement matches. She didn't seem to care in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slightest whether they were snipers, smurfs, or stream-snipers. It might have been Han-ah's imagination, but Jeong-ah looked as if she believed such handicaps didn't matter at all.

Han-ah was the owner of the channel, but Jeong-ah was the undisputed star of today's show. Everyone had gathered here to watch the Blonde Beautiful Girl Samurai play.

And it's not like we have zero chance of winning.

Jeong-ah's rank hadn't been determined yet, but Han-ah estimated her skill level to be at least high Master, if not Grandmaster. With her mind-boggling talent, she wouldn't easily fall behind, even against snipers.

From a content perspective, winning this match is infinitely better than dodging and killing the hype.

If they could pull off a victory, the stream's atmosphere would explode. They currently had three wins in their placement matches, placing their lobby's average MMR around the Gold tier. Toxic snipers bringing out Gold-tier smurf accounts just to bully and stream-snipe a newbie in her placements? The narrative practically wrote itself. YouTube titles were already flashing through Han-ah's mind.

But putting all business logic aside, Han-ah simply wanted to shove a victory down those snipers' throats. Dodging for the sake of the stream or her placements was ultimately just running away. This might be her only chance to give a massive middle finger to the disgusting trolls who constantly disrupted her streams and harassed her.

Alright, let's do this. Since Jeong-ah is up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for it.

They had Geummisa, a super-rookie who served as their ultimate secret weapon. And Han-ah herself was a player who had once stood at the gates of Master tier. There were two snipers on the enemy team. Two trolls whose usernames practically screamed their intentions. A quick search of their match histories showed that the other three players were normal, active Gold-tier locals. Only these two had suddenly queued up after a long hiatus, and even their weapon choices had abruptly changed. It was clear proof that they had bought or borrowed these accounts.

"I'm going to tryhard this game."

"Me too."

Han-ah steeled her resolve. Beside her, Jeong-ah agreed, her tone completely flat and unbothered. Seeing her partner so unfazed, Han-ah felt her tension melt away. A small laugh slipped into her voice.

"Let's win this."

And so, their fourth placement match—a showdown against malicious stream snipers—began.

At that exact moment, a man woke up.

Blink, blink.

Blinking away the sleep, he habitually reached for the phone on his nightstand. Still half-asleep, he scrolled through the live channels on his streaming platform, as was his daily routine. After scrolling for a while, his thumb suddenly froze.

"..."

The stream that had caught his eye belonged to a streamer named Hanya. He had never heard of her before, let alone watched her. The reason he stopped at a complete stranger's broadcast was entirely due to the stream title.

"Samurai?"

To be precise, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was that single word in the title that had made him stop.

"What on earth is a 'Blonde Beautiful Girl Samurai'?"

Intrigued, the man sat up in bed and tapped on Hanya's stream. The man's name was Baek Seong-hun—known to the world as the legendary "Samurai."