Streamer Soma (3)
Early one morning, at the Korean branch of Powell Software in Gangnam.
Yujin was there with Gyeoul, having accepted a polite invitation from the company. The purpose was straightforward: combat data collection and motion capture for the DLC boss monster set to release soon.
Not long ago, when he had spoken with a Powell Software employee at a café, Yujin had accepted the terms without much thought. Now, however, he found himself wondering if that version of himself had been a little too careless.
The reason was simple.
Bright, sparkling eyes.
From the moment Yujin stepped into the Powell Software building, every gaze in the place locked onto him. Even the employee waiting at the reception desk to guide him and Gyeoul was staring holes through his face. What more needed to be said?
“So… that’s the guy? Streamer Soma?”
“Yeah, yeah! The PR kids have been going crazy all day saying he’d be here today!”
“But he looks somehow different from how he does on screen. What’s with that?”
“He’s way hotter in person than on stream! Isn’t that enough?”
Female employees passing by the reception desk made no effort to lower their voices as they whispered about him. And it wasn’t just them.
“My girlfriend’s a huge Soma fan. She made me promise to get his autograph today.”
“Has he been working out or something? His proportions are insane. You could tell people he’s been swinging a sword for twenty years straight and they’d believe you.”
Even the male employees were looking at him with open envy. Yujin was used to drawing attention from crowds of strangers, but this was something else entirely. If they would just walk up and talk to him, fine—but standing at a distance and whispering about a person? What was the point of that?
The Powell Software staff weren’t keeping their distance because they found him intimidating or because they worried about bothering him, though.
The total director made it crystal clear—if anyone so much as shows Soma any disrespect, there will be hell to pay. Treat him not as some ordinary streamer, but as a partner of Powell Software itself.
Well, of course. Nightfall’s sales have skyrocketed lately, and everyone’s saying it’s because of him.
This month’s total sales for Nightfall under Powell Software had jumped a ridiculous 11 percent compared to the previous month. Package game sales normally peaked in the first month and then gradually declined. Nightfall, however, was doing the impossible—climbing the charts in reverse, sales rising instead of falling.
Shareholders and executives had been stunned by the near-miraculous turnaround, and it hadn’t taken long to pinpoint the cause.
“We ran the big data analysis. The number of people who bought Nightfall after watching Soma’s streams is insane.”
“Thanks to that, Powell Software’s stock jumped a full three percent from the previous day. At that level, treating him like a VVIP makes perfect sense.”
Given the company’s market capitalization, the profits involved were enormous. Of course, no single streamer could single-handedly send stock prices soaring or crashing—the market wasn’t that simple. Coincidence or not, though, Powell Software had every reason to treasure Yujin and keep him happy.
And if, in this situation, Yujin ever announced he would stop streaming Nightfall content?
The executives and shareholders who had pocketed tidy gains from the stock bump would not sit quietly, that much was certain. That was precisely why the staff treated him like a sacred treasure.
“This way, please.”
Following the employee’s extremely courteous lead, they arrived at the large conference room on the tenth floor—only to find someone completely unexpected waiting for them.
“A pleasure to meet you, Streamer Swordmaster. I believe this is the first time we have faced each other in person.”
The man was unexpected, yet even Yujin—whose social circle was extremely small—recognized the face at once.
“It’s good to meet you, Swordmaster. I am Hayao Misaka.”
None other than Hayao Misaka, total director of Nightfall and vice president of Powell Software. The moment he heard Yujin would be visiting the Korean branch today, he had rushed over from abroad just to meet him.
“I have long wished for the chance to meet you in reality, Swordmaster, but I never imagined the opportunity would come so soon. On behalf of Powell Software, allow me to offer you our most sincere welcome.”
Watching Hayao Misaka greet Yujin with that warm smile and such impeccable courtesy, Gyeoul felt a shiver run down her spine.
Unbelievable… Someone of Hayao Misaka’s stature is welcoming Oppa like this!
Seeing a famous face she had only ever watched on screens personally receive Yujin made the reality surrounding her finally feel real. Her brother had already gone beyond being a mere internet sensation—he had become a rising star in every sense of the word.
Hayao Misaka, for his part, felt his own chest tighten with excitement as he welcomed Yujin.
“I thoroughly enjoyed your most recent broadcast, Swordmaster. You always deliver play that far exceeds our expectations. Skipping every gimmick we prepared in the hidden route and simply defeating Ariandel… that was truly impressive.”
Especially the contrast: in his first stream Yujin had fought Ariandel on even terms, yet this time he had completely overwhelmed him. The total director had felt inspiration welling up like a fountain. For the first time in ages, his blood as a game director was boiling. If they modeled a boss monster after Yujin, just how complete a creation would emerge? Happy fantasies of that sort were already flooding his mind.
Which meant he absolutely had to maintain a good relationship going forward—for the sake of Nightfall’s upcoming DLC sales and the sequels that would follow.
“Ahem. Personally, there is so much I would love to discuss with you at length… but that would hardly be appropriate. Today we have invited you here to collect your combat data, after all.”
With a voice full of lingering regret, the total director led Yujin and Gyeoul into another room. It was a strange space packed with machines that looked a great deal like the pitching machines one might find at a baseball batting cage.
“Before we begin collecting your combat data in earnest, Swordmaster, I would like to run a few tests here.”
“…Tests? What kind?”
Yujin tilted his head.
“Nothing major. Before we properly gather your combat data, I want to measure the level of your reflexes. That way we can assess your physical capabilities far more efficiently.”
“Oh?”
Yujin smiled, clearly intrigued. He had been curious himself about the current state of his body. All the mana in his system had vanished upon his return to Earth, yet lately, as he practiced Uinyeom inside virtual reality, he had felt his physical condition recovering, however faintly. He wanted to know, scientifically, just how far his body could perform right now.
“How does the measurement work?”
“Simple. Stand in the center of the room and dodge the balls fired by the pitching machines. If a ball strikes your body, the test ends immediately. Pass the test, and you may attempt the next difficulty level.”
“Nice and simple. Sounds fun.”
Yujin’s utterly relaxed reply drew wry smiles from the staff in the room. This test was hardly as easy as he seemed to think.
Last time a national fencing team member came for motion capture, he said the same thing—and paid for it.
That guy only made it to stage five out of seven, right?
Unbothered by the looks around him, Yujin walked to the middle of the room.
“I’m ready.”
The total director nodded and murmured quietly,
“Begin the test.”
Psssh-!
At once, every pitching machine in the room fired. Some balls came fast, some slow; some flew straight, others curved. From every direction—north, south, east, west, up, down, left, right—the space filled with projectiles until there seemed nowhere left to dodge. A few staff members already sighed, certain the test would end in a single second.
But then—
“…Huh?”
“W-what?”
Everyone present widened their eyes.
The balls were not hitting Yujin’s body. It was as if he had no physical form at all; the projectiles simply passed straight through him. What kind of phenomenon was this? Was Streamer Soma actually a ghost? How else could a human body do something like that—
…No. The balls aren’t passing through him.
Only after straining his eyes did the total director understand what Yujin was doing. He was simply dodging each ball by a paper-thin margin the instant before impact. The entire sequence happened so quickly that, to everyone else, it looked as though the balls were phasing through him.
With movements that looked almost like a casual stroll, or perhaps a graceful dance, Yujin successfully avoided every single ball. Then he turned to the total director and flashed a bright smile.
“This is fun. Feels like I finally got to loosen up after a long time. So, can I take the next stage of the test?”
“…There isn’t one.”
“Excuse me? There isn’t? What do you mean? You clearly said that if I passed, I could attempt the next—”
“…I mean there is no next stage.”
The total director forced the words out through stiff lips.
“Because… the test you just passed, Swordmaster… was already the highest level. Stage seven.”
He had wanted to probe the limits of Yujin’s ability, just a little. Now he realized how foolish that had been.
Streamer Soma. Swordmaster. And Geomju.
From the very beginning, he had been a human who existed beyond the limits of humanity.