The Newbie Guest Corner

The viewer count sat at four thousand. In reality, even if four thousand people tuned in, that hardly meant all four thousand were actively typing. Some had the stream running in the background like a radio, while others had their phones propped on stands where reaching out to type was too much of a hassle.

The viewers who consistently chatted and reacted typically made up just over five percent of the total audience. That meant if an influx of three thousand chatters suddenly swarmed a channel accustomed to about two hundred active participants, the chat window was more than capable of giving up the ghost.

"Whoa. Chat completely crashed."

From one perspective, it was a technical broadcast mishap, but it was certainly a happy one. After all, it proved the reaction was just that explosive. If only the chat server had died, fixing it was as simple as restarting the stream.

"Hey guys, quick restart incoming."

Jo Meohyeop swiftly shut down the stream. Seeing the feed go dark, he let out a hearty laugh.

"Heheh. Did you see that? The reaction is blazing."

"……Uh. Yeah, it really is."

Even with the stream offline, the voice call with So Rihwa remained connected. In a sense, it was a fleeting moment of stoppage time.

"Right now, Wadeulwadeul-nim, the viewers are going to love whatever you do. So don't be shy. Just speak your mind."

"A-Alright, I will."

Caught entirely off guard by such a torrid reception, So Rihwa stammered. Jo Meohyeop understood the sentiment. People tended to undervalue the charms they naturally possessed.

To the ear of a veteran streamer like Jo Meohyeop, So Rihwa's voice was absolute Tier 1. It was an acoustic profile tailor-made for broadcasting.

Viewers preferred friendly, effortless tones that didn't induce listening fatigue, yet still carried a distinct color. That was undeniably a demanding criteria, given that one's voice was an innate gift of birth.

So Rihwa's voice hovered right on the delicate boundary between a young girl and a woman. At first glance, she sounded like an energetic kid, but listening closely revealed an undeniable feminine charm beneath the cadence. Ogogok was a platform where cute content resonated infinitely better than overtly sultry appeals. In that respect, So Rihwa was already overflowing with broadcasting talent.

"Going live again."

"Okay."

After checking in on her condition, Jo Meohyeop brought the stream back online. An even more colossal wave of people poured in compared to when he had first started. If the initial surge was merely a rising tide, what hit them now was a full-blown viewer tsunami.

Whether word had gone viral on some gaming forum or not, the viewer count had grown by one and a half times the previous number. Six thousand people were gathered before the main content had even begun.

"Re-hi, chat! Alright, there's way too much text flying by right now, so I've locked the chat room to six-month followers only."

Watching the chat scroll at blinding speed, Jo Meohyeop smiled with deep satisfaction. How could a chat restricted to veteran six-month followers possess this much firepower? The atmosphere was already blazing hot, even though the main hook he had planned hadn't even dropped yet.

"As you guys can see, I'm playing games with Wadeulwadeul-nim today, but this isn't just an ordinary duo stream. This is a Newbie Guest Corner. Wadeulwadeul-nim told me she's never played Royal Commando before. Today is literally her very first time touching the game."

Doubt immediately flared up across the chat. The Ogogok audience was predominantly composed of introverted gamers who spent half their lives behind screens. In such a demographic, claiming to have never played Royal Commando was bound to raise eyebrows.

"I-It's true, really. Ow! I bit my tongue."

Those were So Rihwa's very first words since her initial greeting. In her nervousness, she had ended up biting her own tongue.

Jo Meohyeop beamed with sheer delight. The comedic timing of her remark and the endearing little slip-up were nothing short of perfection.

Normally, whenever Jo Meohyeop broadcasted with female streamers, a contingent of hostile viewers would inevitably push back. They would accuse the guest of flirting for clout or parasiting off Jo Meohyeop's channel. But right now, Wadeulwadeul was an ordinary civilian who didn't even stream professionally, and she had just displayed such genuine, uncalculated innocence. Even the most hardened cynics in chat found their defenses thoroughly disarmed.

"This is actually my first time stepping into a virtual reality capsule at all. I've never set foot in a capsule room either."

"Honestly, that's still pretty hard to believe. Don't kids usually hang out at capsule rooms together right after school?"

Jo Meohyeop stepped in with a conversational prompt. So Rihwa paused briefly in silence before offering an answer.

"I never did that. Maybe a PC bang, though."

"Huh? PC bangs still exist?"

"They did back in my day……"

So Rihwa realized her mistake. In this modern era, high-end personal computers were so universally accessible that internet cafes were relics of a bygone era. At best, only a handful of novelty PC bangs remained scattered across distant provincial towns.

The sudden summoning of ancient lore sent ripples through the chat.

Regardless, given the eruption of laughter, the atmosphere was undeniably great. Considering Wadeulwadeul was an absolute broadcast amateur, the back-and-forth banter was flowing remarkably well.

"Are you older than you sound? Come to think of it, I never asked your age. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"Whoa, really? I would've bet good money you were a teenager. Your voice sounds so youthful!"

In truth, So Rihwa's current vessel had technically walked this earth far longer, but there was no reason to get into the weeds of her past life. Ever since descending from the mountain, she had simply lived according to her age prior to reincarnation. While her physical appearance looked absurdly baby-faced, people readily accepted it whenever she flashed her newly reissued identification register.

"I get that a lot."

"I bet you do! Well, let's jump into the game. Shall we start with the tutorial?"

"If we form a party before entering the tutorial, we can run it together. I'll guide you through it."

"Ah, yes. Sounds good."

Jo Meohyeop dispatched a group invitation to So Rihwa. The moment she accepted, the tutorial sequence initiated.

Accompanied by the resounding stomp of soldiers marching in review, an introductory cinematic unfolded across their vision. It was a cutscene that only ever played when entering the tutorial for the very first time. Because he had queued as a duo with So Rihwa, the cinematic appeared before Jo Meohyeop's eyes as well. This was precisely why Jo Meohyeop had instructed So Rihwa not to touch the tutorial or adjust any settings beforehand—to irrefutably prove her status as a genuine beginner.

The chat room was playing out exactly as Jo Meohyeop had anticipated. The mood could not have been better. More than five years had passed since the release of Royal Commando. For a game that old, fresh blood was practically nonexistent. The instant the audience confirmed So Rihwa was the real deal, the chat instantly transformed into a warm, celebratory festival.

"Go ahead and proceed for now. If there's anything you don't get, just ask."

"Yes, got it."

Because So Rihwa had never customized her avatar, her in-game appearance was currently the default female model. Any lingering doubts regarding her gender evaporated in an instant. Virtual reality capsules scanned the user's biological traits to generate either male or female base bodies, and So Rihwa was unmistakably represented by a female character.

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"I'll keep moving forward then."

"Sure thing."

So Rihwa took her initial steps into the training ground.

With the NPC's prompt, So Rihwa's character transformed. She now took on the appearance of a male soldier geared in tactical goggles, a ballistic helmet, and a body armor vest, brandishing a standard-issue assault rifle.

Because Royal Commando utilized distinct, pre-molded in-game hero models, selecting a class temporarily altered the player's outward avatar to match the hero.

"That character is called the Trooper," Jo Meohyeop explained. "It's the most basic and intuitive class in the game."

So Rihwa nodded, looking visibly tense.

Following the drill instructor's command, So Rihwa aimed at the paper target. Striking a remarkably dashing shoulder mount stance, she pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The score stood at two hits out of ten. Even factoring in general disparities in casual gaming experience, it was an undeniably dismal performance.

Jo Meohyeop barely stifled his snicker. Even to a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠broadcast machine like him, she looked adorable. To the viewers watching, it must have been pure entertainment.

"Don't worry about it. Don't lose confidence."

"N-No, wait. This really doesn't feel like my body."

So Rihwa stammered in protest. Jo Meohyeop chuckled softly.

"That's completely normal at first. VR capsule games have built-in movement assist."

"Movement assist?"

"Yeah. Every character has unique skills and animations, but not every player has the physical agility to replicate them in real life. You know how cool your stance looked when you aimed the rifle just now? That was the movement assist kicking in. You've never fired a real gun before, right?"

So Rihwa almost blurted out that she had. In her past life, she had fulfilled her mandatory military service in South Korea as an able-bodied man. But claiming that here would only invite teasing about visiting an indoor tourist shooting range.

"……Well, I suppose."

"The truly incredible thing about VR capsules is that the sensors embedded in the memory sheet measure your exact physical capacity. They restrict your in-game movement strictly within the bounds of your real-world physiology. In plain terms, an out-of-shape couch potato can't do the full splits in virtual reality."

"Ah. Yes, I know that much."

It wasn't as if So Rihwa lived completely cut off from society. She possessed basic knowledge about modern capsule technology; she simply lacked hands-on experience.

"It's just that the movement feels so unnatural. It doesn't feel like I'm moving my own limbs. It feels like…… my arms and legs are being jerked around on puppet strings."

"Ah, then your assist level is cranked way too high. Since it's your first time playing, the game defaults to maximum assistance. Why don't you open up your settings?"

"Okay."

So Rihwa accessed the configuration menu. Exactly as Jo Meohyeop had said, the Movement Correction Setting slider was pulled entirely to the far right. It was locked at one hundred percent.

"The lower you set that value, the closer the game matches your raw physical movements. You can pull off much finer, more intricate motions. But that also means your real-life motor skills become everything. Take the Trooper, for instance. He carries frag grenades clipped to his tactical vest. If your assist is set too low, you might fumble your grip and fail to trigger the skill, or your throwing arc might go wildly off-target. That's why finding the right sweet spot for your body is so crucial."

"So that's how it works. Understood. Let me lower it for a moment."

"Sure, take your time."

So Rihwa seemed to be tinkering with the interface. Since the settings hologram was only visible to the user, Jo Meohyeop had no way of knowing how much she had dialled it down.

"I'll try shooting again."

"Go right ahead."

Jo Meohyeop replied with laughter dancing in his voice. He had a pretty good idea of how this would play out.

While one hundred percent assist could certainly feel clunky, it at least forced the avatar into a textbook, mechanically perfect firing stance. If she couldn't hit anything with full assistance, lowering it almost guaranteed worse results. It was the classic denial phase that VR newcomers inevitably stumbled through when confronted with their own lack of physical coordination.

Finding the perfect correction setting on the very first attempt was impossible, and even if by some miracle someone found it, hitting the target was an entirely separate challenge. Without raw physical competence, you simply couldn't compete in hyper-FPS titles.

Tuning the assist was merely the entry fee; beyond that lay the brutal walls of aim, reflexes, and tactical awareness. Jo Meohyeop quietly wagered she wouldn't land a single shot out of ten.

Having witnessed the same spectacle countless times, the viewers shared Jo Meohyeop's skepticism. Ignoring the chat entirely, So Rihwa locked her gaze onto the distant target.

The instructor's voice rang out once more. In a single fluid motion, So Rihwa raised the rifle with a sharp metallic clack, driving the buttstock firmly into her shoulder pocket and burying her cheek against the comb. At twenty-two years of age, she was a fresh reservist who had received her honorable discharge less than six months prior.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Wait, what?"

Jo Meohyeop, who had been watching with an indulgent, paternal grin, felt the expression on his face suddenly contort into disbelief.

When the first two shots struck home, he assumed it was sheer luck. But when five consecutive rounds drilled cleanly through the dead center of the bullseye, bewilderment seized him. And then, without stopping, all ten rounds punched directly through the exact same pinpoint hole. She hadn't even taken a moment to reacquire the target—the entire burst had been fired almost in a single, uninterrupted breath.

The NPC drill instructor erupted into its pre-programmed, exaggerated fanfare, but the actual living human beings—Jo Meohyeop and his six thousand viewers—were struck completely dumbfounded.

In stark contrast to the lively uproar that had greeted So Rihwa's voice, the chat room froze into dead silence. Before Jo Meohyeop's wide, disbelieving eyes, a wisp of gray smoke slowly curled from the tip of So Rihwa's rifle barrel, wafting quietly through the virtual air.