Plan B
“No way!”
Right as Jo Cheol-gon was wracking his brains to blueprint the ultimate broadcast, a bolt from the blue struck down his grand ambitions. Wadeulwadeul had abruptly sent a direct message pulling the plug. With trembling fingers, Cheol-gon hammered out a frantic reply.
At least a reply came through. Truthfully, Wadeulwadeul had nothing to apologize for. They hadn't locked down any concrete schedule yet, and barely a day had passed since their initial exchange, so she wasn't leaving him in the lurch either.
Cheol-gon crafted his message with utmost gentleness. Right now, Wadeulwadeul was skittish as a city pigeon from the early 2000s—one heavy step in her direction, and she would flutter her wings and vanish into thin air.
Cheol-gon scratched his scalp raw staring at her message. If she cited personal reasons, he could hardly pry into her private life. Yet his streamer instincts were screaming at full blast; he had already caught the scent of an earth-shattering viral hit from this collaboration. Letting Wadeulwadeul slip away here would mean surrendering his pride as a veteran content creator.
Just then, Cheol-gon scrolled up the chat history. Right—she had already sent over her mobile phone number earlier. Going back and forth via text would never bridge the gap; a direct call was his only shot at salvaging this.
Without a moment's hesitation, Cheol-gon punched in Wadeulwadeul's number and hit dial.
The dial tone barely rang a few times before the line clicked open.
“……Hello?”
A delicate, youthful girl's voice filtered through the receiver.
For a split second, Cheol-gon assumed he had dialed the wrong digits. He pulled the handset away from his face to double-check the screen, cross-referencing the digits on his monitor against his phone. They matched down to the last digit. Wait, is Wadeulwadeul really this girl?
“Ah, ah. Hello?”
“Ah, yes! Yes! Hello? By any chance, is this Wadeulwadeul-nim?”
Snapping out of his stupor, Cheol-gon blurted out the question. A brief hush fell over the other end of the line, prompting him to tack on an explanation in a hurry.
“It's Jo Meohyeop.”
“……Oh. You startled me.”
A soft, airy chuckle drifted through the speaker.
“Hearing an Ogogok streaming handle out of nowhere caught me off guard. Ah, that's right, I did give you my phone number, didn't I?”
“Yes, yes! I saw it and reached out right away. I'm really sorry for calling you out of the blue like this.”
“No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. But like I said in chat, I don't think I'll be able to join the broadcast.”
Insane. This is completely insane, Cheol-gon thought, his mind racing. She sounded like a teenager—at most, someone in her early twenties.
On Jo Meohyeop's channel, subscribers and regular viewers were affectionately dubbed Sohyeop, or 'Little Heroes'. But within that crowd, female viewers were distinguished by a rare, treasured title: Yeohyeop, or 'Heroines'.
His stream was infamous for harboring belligerent internet trolls, and because his content revolved almost entirely around competitive gaming, the viewer demographic was brutally, overwhelmingly male. Consequently, a Yeohyeop was regarded as a mythical beast—a unicorn whispered of in legends. And to think that their resident roleplaying gimmick, Wadeulwadeul of all people, was an actual, living breathing Yeohyeop!
Naturally, on a channel swarming with male viewers, nothing triggered an explosive reaction quite like a collaboration with a girl. That faint scent of a viral hit had just sharpened into a razor-edged guarantee.
“Ah, but I'm just so heartbroken! The broadcast concept was shaping up to be ridiculously fun. I can adjust almost anything to accommodate you, so couldn't you please reconsider just one more time?”
Cheol-gon's voice took on an earnest, pleading cadence. Finding out that their notorious roleplaying regular was secretly a girl was already a bombshell, but her accidental home reveal had elicited a tidal wave of genuine sympathy across the fan community. Even if they had zero structured gaming content and simply hosted a raw interview, viewership was bound to explode.
“……Mm.”
Wadeulwadeul let out a troubled groan. Sensing the hesitation in her voice, Cheol-gon seized the opening and pushed his advantage.
“Ah, and as for the appearance fee I mentioned, I can definitely bump that up. Is there really no way we can make this work?”
“It's not about the money. I honestly wanted to give it a try, but after thinking it through, I realized it just wouldn't work.”
“Why not? Because of those personal circumstances?”
“Yes. When you were explaining the stream's concept earlier, you told me to highlight the new capsule's strengths by comparing it to the virtual reality capsules I'd used in the past.”
“Right, right, I did.”
“The thing is... I've never actually used another virtual reality capsule before. I was worried I'd end up being a burden and ruining your broadcast.”
“Wait, was that the reason?”
“……Yes.”
Cheol-gon felt an overwhelming urge to strip down to his boxers, sprint up to the building's rooftop, and bellow at the heavens in pure triumph. He had spent the last ten minutes sweating over what insurmountable real-life catastrophe had occurred, and the problem was literally nothing at all!
Under ordinary circumstances, claiming you had never stepped into a virtual reality capsule in modern society would sound absurd. But Cheol-gon had already seen the state of Wadeulwadeul's home. For someone scraping by in that brand of raw poverty, her explanation was entirely convincing. Viewers wouldn't just understand—they would rally behind her with absolute empathy.
“Man, that's entirely my fault! I should have asked whether you had any prior capsule experience before dumping that on you. I'm so sorry, Wadeulwadeul-nim!”
“No, don't say that. In this day and age, who hasn't used a VR capsule? I'm the strange one here.”
“No! Not at all! You are not strange in the slightest! That was one hundred percent my oversight!”
“……Ah, right.”
A note of genuine bewilderment seeped into Wadeulwadeul's voice. She clearly couldn't wrap her head around why this massive streamer was bending over backward to cater to her.
“Then as long as we adjust the content slightly, there's no problem at all, right?”
“I suppose so, but why go this far...?”
“Because it's a guaranteed hit. Let me be completely transparent with you.”
Cheol-gon decided to lay his cards on the table. Beating around the bush and concealing his true motives went entirely against the code of chivalry expected of a great hero.
“What makes it such a hit?”
“A collab with you, Wadeulwadeul-nim. I've got a pretty sharp nose for sniffing out viral content, and this joint stream is going to blow up without a shadow of a doubt.”
“……Really? I don't see it at all.”
Of course she wouldn't—she wasn't a content creator. This was a scent that only streamers, and specifically seasoned veterans with honed instincts, could pick up on.
“Trust me, it's an absolute lock. Did you see that the post you shared on the fan cafe made it to the trending board?”
“Oh, no. I just got home from work, actually.”
“Ah, no wonder your voice sounded so drained.”
Cheol-gon softened his tone with heartfelt warmth. Truth be told, genuine sympathy tugged at his heartstrings. It felt like watching a young sister trudging home after a grueling shift of exhausting labor. Wadeulwadeul may have been a relentless roleplaying gimmick in his chat, but she had never caused trouble or harmed his broadcast, making her all the more endearing.
“A lot of eyes are on you right now. Positive, supportive eyes. And this collab will take all that goodwill and detonate it into something massive. This is my bread and butter. Just trust me on this. I swear on everything that your personal identity and privacy will remain completely protected.”
“I mean, you're a seasoned professional, so of course I trust you on that front, but...”
“For your appearance fee, let's just split every single donation that rolls in during the collab straight down the middle. You'll easily walk away with over two hundred thousand nyang. On normal broadcast days, a three-hour stream pulls in well over that amount.”
Streamer Jo Meohyeop's gut instinct was screaming at him to slam the pedal through the floorboards. To a career streamer, raw cash wasn't the top priority—eyeballs and engagement were. Chase the attention, and the money would follow on its own; chase the money blindly, and you made fatal blunders. In that respect, sacrificing half the donations from a single broadcast didn't sting in the least.
A quiet pause stretched over the line, punctuated only by the faint rhythm of her breathing. She was clearly weighing the proposition.
“……All right. I'll do it.”
Hearing her consent through the receiver, Cheol-gon clenched his fist in silent triumph.
“So... what exactly am I supposed to do?”
“Well, that's what we figure out right now. That's Plan B!”
“Excuse me?”
Wadeulwadeul sounded thoroughly dumbfounded, but Cheol-gon merely grinned, unbothered.
“The core attraction is doing a collab with you, Wadeulwadeul-nim. What we actually do together is secondary. The content matters, sure, but it's not the main selling point.”
“It's not like I'm some kind of celebrity.”
“I can guarantee you this will generate more buzz than teaming up with almost any top-tier streamer out there. And I'm going to make damn sure it does.”
Cheol-gon spoke with unshakable conviction.
“I won't ever make unreasonable demands of you, and there won't be anything stressful for you to prepare either.”
“Well, that's a relief at least.”
“Since we're on the line, why don't we bounce around some ideas right now?”
“Pardon?”
Her flustered hesitation was almost endearing. An absurd, forced meme flashed across Cheol-gon's mind: It's a hit, an absolute hit!
“Out of curiosity, what kind of content on my channel do you usually enjoy the most?”
“I just like watching you play games.”
“Aha! Then we'll run a duo!”
“Even if you say duo...”
Wadeulwadeul's voice shrank to a whisper. The undisputed centerpiece of Jo Meohyeop's channel was Royal Commando.
It was the foundational game he had streamed since his debut, and a legendary heavyweight that had held the number-one spot in capsule room market share for five consecutive years.
Royal Commando was a virtual-reality-based hyper-FPS—a fast-paced 5v5 PvP shooter featuring distinct character roles divided into Tank, DPS, and Healer.
The catch, of course, was that Royal Commando could only be experienced inside a virtual reality capsule. That was clearly why Wadeulwadeul had sounded so hesitant.
“Then... I suppose I should get some practice in beforehand.”
“Nope! Don't play a single match.”
“What?”
“Being awkwardly mediocre is boring—being a total, clueless newbie is peak entertainment! That's what viewers want to see. A 'Complete Newbie Guest Stream' sounds incredible. Boom, Plan B is officially locked in.”
“……Is that really how it works?”
“Of course! The best content always comes together in a flash. Let's just pin down a date. How does this weekend look for you?”
“This weekend? But that's the day after tomorrow!”
Only after hearing her protest did Cheol-gon glance down at his desk calendar. It really was already Thursday. Still, for a blind newbie guest showcase, there was no need for scripted setups or tedious rehearsals; striking while the iron was hot was the only way to go.
“Ah. Do you have other plans?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then it's settled! Oh, and I'll send over the game chip for Royal Commando.”
To install a game onto a virtual reality capsule, one had to insert a physical game chip into its reading slot. Given the cutting-edge technology packed inside, major titles carried steep price tags. Royal Commando was no exception, easily retailing for two hundred thousand silver nyang.
“Are you sure you can do that?”
“Of course! Consider it a gift.”
“Thank you so much.”
With pleasantries exchanged, the call drew to an end. Cheol-gon stared at his screen to confirm the line had truly disconnected, then sprang out of his gaming chair, leaping clean into the air.
“We got it, fuck yeah!”
“Is this really going to be all right?”
So Rihwa stood holding her mobile phone, still entirely dazed even after hanging up. Moments later, the handset buzzed in her palm. It was a digital gift voucher code for the Royal Commando game chip sent directly from Jo Meohyeop's number.
Much like a modern gifticon, submitting the redemption code alongside a delivery address automatically dispatched a delivery drone to drop the physical parcel right at her doorstep. Once the game chip arrived, all she had to do was slip it into the capsule's media drive, download the client, and she would be ready to dive in.
It wasn't an in-person, face-to-face broadcast, and since Royal Commando assigned pre-rendered avatar models to each player, her real appearance would never be exposed to the public. On top of that, Jo Meohyeop had promised to hand over half of all donation proceeds generated throughout the stream. She couldn't fathom why he was going to such drastic lengths—something about smelling a massive hit, whatever that meant.
She had never envisioned stepping into the streaming scene through a bizarre turn of events like this, but experiencing a live broadcast sounded genuinely intriguing. And considering the handsome sum of money on the table, she had no real reason to refuse.
“The day after tomorrow, huh.”
So Rihwa turned her gaze toward the faded, dog-eared wall calendar hanging in the corner of her cramped room. It still didn't feel entirely real.