The Second Game: Preparations (1)
After playing through Nightfall’s DLC, The Demon King’s Advent, Yujin all but fled Powell Software’s headquarters and headed straight home.
He put on a front like nothing was wrong, but the truth was he had hit his limit. Right now he didn’t even want to touch Nightfall for a while. The mere sight of a mask or a pair of black wings would probably set off some kind of reflex, so he meant it even more.
Anyway, from here on there’s nothing I particularly need to help them with.
He had done exactly what the director wanted—pushed the Demon King to its limits and dragged every hidden card into the open. With that data the developers would rebalance the thing even if they had to cut its arms and legs off. They wouldn’t gut it completely, though. Powell Software had publicly promised ten thousand dollars to the first person in the world to clear the Demon King raid.
Of course, under Yujin’s contract with Powell he wouldn’t see a single dollar of that prize even if he were the first to kill it, so the whole matter had nothing to do with him.
From where I was standing, it was a pretty pathetic specimen.
Incomplete Willpower, combat precognition, even a crude imitation of the Demon-Slaying Sword—it looked impressive at a glance, but in the end its entire fighting style was just a second-rate copy of Yujin’s own. If any of the other beta testers had been able to use Willpower after watching it, they would have dismantled the Demon King just as easily as he had. Purely in terms of raw strength, Yujin figured “the One Who Gazes at the Stars” or the Fierce God were both far more dangerous.
None of that mattered to him anymore.
Which was why he was currently sitting in a café near home, talking with Gyeoul, who had appointed herself his manager. They were out together for the first time in a while, and he wanted to have a serious conversation about the future direction of his streams.
“First of all, the thing our channel needs most is an editor.”
Gyeoul spoke with a thoroughly serious face. The need for an editor was a topic she had already raised once before, back when she first volunteered to manage him.
“Like I told you, I’ve never studied editing properly. That means the quality is always going to lag behind a professional, and the turnaround is way slower too.”
When Yujin’s MyTube channel first launched, it had blown past a hundred thousand subscribers in less than half a day and earned the Silver Play Button in record time. That explosive growth had long since stalled, though. Even after a considerable stretch of time the channel sat at a modest two hundred thirty thousand. Not a low number by any means, but painfully underwhelming next to the early rocket ride.
“The reason the growth tapered off is that uploads keep slipping. Under normal circumstances the true-ending video from yesterday’s Nightfall stream should already be edited and sitting on MyTube by now.”
More videos meant more subscribers, and those subscribers would then funnel into the live streams—a clean virtuous cycle.
“And actually… there’s something else I’ve been wanting to bring up about this.”
“What?”
Gyeoul hesitated, looking almost reluctant.
“I’ve been quietly scouting for an editor for a while. Then someone at my school showed up who really, really wants the job…”
“…Your school? Don’t tell me Korea University?”
Yujin looked openly startled. Gyeoul attended Korea University—the single most prestigious school in the country. Landing a job at a major conglomerate would be almost trivial for a student there. Why on earth would someone volunteer to edit for him?
“How’d you talk them into it? Are they a friend of yours?”
“Well, she is a friend… but that’s not why she’s offering. If I had to put a finger on it, it seems to be because of her connection with you.”
“…Her connection with me?”
Yujin looked completely blank. No matter how hard he searched his memory, nothing surfaced. Ever since returning to Earth he had lived the life of a perfect loner, whether by choice or by circumstance.
“You know—Soma-jwa-sa—”
“…Soma-jwa-sa?”
Gyeoul clamped her mouth shut mid-word. The look on her face made it clear she had no intention of finishing the sentence, so Yujin had no choice but to drop the interrogation.
“We’ll come back to the editor later. Right now I want to talk about your next content.”
“Next content?”
“You cleared every hidden ending of Nightfall and watched the true ending this time, right? Unless you’re planning to do nothing but Powell Software games forever like Ecclesia-unni, we should start looking for something new around now.”
“Yeah, fair enough.”
Yujin nodded. He had been about to ask her the same question himself. Now that the true ending was done, what game should he tackle next?
“I’ve got a few ideas of my own, but your opinion matters most. And also…”
“Also?”
“There’s someone who wants to talk to you about it.”
“Talk to me? Who?”
Yujin was still tilting his head when the café door chimed.
A woman stepped inside and walked straight toward their table. She carried herself with a cool, polished elegance; her refined features looked almost custom-made for an icy expression. It was Ecclesia.
“Sia-unni!”
Gyeoul waved with open delight. Yujin just stared, dumbfounded.
“…Sia-unni?”
Since when were those two close enough for nicknames? They had barely met a handful of times. How had they gotten this friendly already?
“I actually met her a few times in private without telling you. We hit it off then. And her real name is Lee Sia, so that’s what I call her.”
“Yes, Gyeoul is right. Allow me to introduce myself properly again. I’m Lee Sia. It’s really good to see you in the real world after so long.”
“…Yeah. Han Yujin.”
And so Ecclesia—no, Lee Sia—and Yujin exchanged names once more, as if meeting for the first time.
“So… Ecclesia-nim, or rather Lee Sia-ssi, you have something you want to say to me?”
“Yes. I already discussed this with Gyeoul, but it seems your permission is essential.”
She drew a short breath, then spoke carefully.
“I’ll be direct. Gyeoul told me that after finishing Nightfall you’re looking for new content.”
“More or less.”
“Then what do you think about doing a joint stream with me for that next content?”
“…A collab? You want another duel like last time?”
Sia shook her head.
“No. Not a one-off duel stream. I want to play the entire next content together with you. In short, I’m proposing we become partners—limited to that content.”
Yujin considered the offer in silence for a moment, then looked as though he had reached a decision.
“Hmm… Sorry, but I’ll pass. Doesn’t really appeal to me.”
The refusal was absolute. Sia’s eyes wavered hard. Only for a second, though. She bit her lip and held his gaze.
“…May I ask why? If it’s because I treated you so rudely at the beginning, I can apologize again—”
“No. Personal feelings have nothing to do with it. I just don’t like the idea of you as my partner.”
“You don’t like the idea of me? Why?”
Yujin hesitated a fraction of a second, then decided honesty was the only clean path. Softening the edges never solved anything with this kind of problem.
“Your skill is too low. And I have zero interest in dragging dead weight around and calling it a partner.”
Sia’s face flushed crimson. The words were merciless, yet from Yujin’s perspective they were pure fact. Back in the other world, every companion who had fought at his side had been a legend who shook the entire continent.
A great mage born with a once-in-a-millennium talent for the arcane, who dreamed of ascending to the heavens.
An elf who had served as guardian of the World Tree, polishing her archery and spirit arts across uncountable years until she touched the realm of the divine.
A saintess beloved by the Heavenly God, who performed miracles as casually as breathing.
Those were the people who had stood with him for twenty years. In that light, Sia’s skill simply could not register. Comparing her to them would have been an insult to the companions themselves.
Of course the person on the receiving end of that assessment was free to feel whatever she wanted. Truth was still truth.
Yet Sia did not explode. She simply looked at him with a calm, level gaze.
“…I see. So in your eyes my skill really was nothing.”
She murmured the words, then spoke again with a new resolve in her expression.
“Then, Yujin-ssi. Will you take me as your disciple?”
“…Disciple? You?”
The request caught him completely off guard, but Sia’s face never changed.
“I know my skill is nothing compared to yours. So… would you teach me and raise it?”
“Hmm…”
Yujin studied her with an appraising look. In truth it wasn’t a bad offer. Her attitude while asking for instruction was properly respectful, and he had an experiment of his own he had been wanting to run. After a brief internal weighing of the options, he nodded—permission granted.
“R-really? You’ll actually take me as your disciple?”
“One condition, though. Something essential if I’m going to teach you.”
“W-what is it?”
Beside them, Gyeoul was watching with an expression that said she already knew what was coming. Yujin, however, had never looked more decisive. He lifted a finger and tapped his own lips twice.
“Honorifics.”
“…What?”
“From now on you use polite speech with me at all times. Naturally I’ll be speaking casually to you starting today. You’re not going to complain about that, right?”
“.....”
As a proud product of Korea’s Confucian tradition, Han Yujin simply could not tolerate a younger person dropping into casual speech just because they had gotten a little closer.