What No One Has Ever Received, and Never Could

The moment I stepped out of the scenario, a swarm of reward windows started flashing. I set the golden messages—visible to me alone—aside for later and began with what was actually in front of me.

"Three levels, five stat points. Every stat up by three, and about fifty thousand credits on top of that."

Chat was as rowdy as ever. Even so, the scroll felt strangely faster than it had when I started.

"What."

Fifty thousand? It had been somewhere around twenty thousand when I went live, hadn't it? I was staring at the number like I couldn't believe it when chat answered for me.

Hearing that, it clicked. If it had been me, and someone announced that a new scenario had been uncovered, I would've been hooked no matter what. Especially if the boss was a monster that had no business showing up in an Unranked match — and someone was beating it down anyway.

Exactly. Finding a reason not to watch was the harder job.

"Feels like I became a major corporation by accident."

Just in case, I checked the live popularity rankings too.

That was me as well. Crashing the server on my very first broadcast. Maybe I actually had a talent for streaming.

Good thing I turned the donation alerts off.

People said killing the alerts tanked the donation total, but if I wanted to play the long game, this first broadcast was the one time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I needed them silenced so I could focus. Hyung had agreed on that much.

And next...

This.

Clink!

The reward for clearing a scenario for the first time. At a glance it looked like a necklace worked in silver — a peculiar piece, a ring woven onto a silver chain.

"This is supposed to be S-rank?"

Pretty, sure. But I couldn't feel anything overwhelming enough to deserve the letter S. First-clear rewards were usually items bound to the scenario itself, which meant this one had something to do with Princess of Ruin...

"...What?!"

The instant I read the description, my eyes blew open to three times their size.

A few people in chat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who recognized what the ring actually was spat out reactions thick with shock.

They were right. Now — and even later — supporters who could casually throw an S-rank buff were rare. A month to charge it, ten minutes to spend it: even with those limits, being able to call up an S-rank buff the moment I needed one was equipment with absolutely insane performance.

"It really is S-rank, huh? Hahahaha!"

A jackpot. A jackpot so enormous the word couldn't begin to cover it.

Most of the players watching this broadcast were probably drooling over the ring right now. I grinned for no particular reason and hung it around my neck.

"Well? Looks good on me, doesn't it?"

Even counting everything from before the regression and after, this was a haul that ranked among the best I'd ever pulled. I was still showing the ring off like I wanted the whole world to see it when a single, decisive line climbed the chat.

Placements were over. I could confirm my rank now.

"My placement rank, huh... You curious?"

What I'd promised them was Bronze or higher, and I was sure I'd cleared that bar. From the moment I solo-carried a Bronze-level match in the second round, the Channel's system must already have judged me above Bronze.

What I'm hoping for is higher than that.

Something no one in the history of the Channel had ever received — and never could. A one-of-a-kind achievement. That was what I wanted.

Part of me wanted to cut the stream right here and reveal it on the next broadcast. I was fairly certain I'd actually be murdered if I did, so I exercised restraint.

Gulp.

I swallowed dry and checked the rank I would be stepping into for the first time in this life.

What met my eyes was a silver emblem, gleaming as brilliantly as the ring on the necklace. A rank that surpassed Stones, surpassed Iron, and surpassed even Bronze.

It was Silver.

I looked at the Silver rank glittering in front of me and gave a deliberately shameless shrug.

"Came out a little higher than I expected."

I'd been hoping for high Bronze, at best. I never thought they'd grade me this generously.

Are they telling me to climb already?

Well, they couldn't leave me smurfing at the bottom forever. The Channel's system made sense. Truth was, I'd bitten down and chased the score through placements specifically to force this.

"All right. Placements are done, and the rank's confirmed, so I'll call it here for today."

"Make sure you catch the next stream~ Bye~!"

I gave the viewers a small wave, hoping they'd come back next time and give me their money... no. Their attention.

"Hahaha! Shin Jaeha, you little—!"

The moment the broadcast ended, hyung came running and threw an arm around my shoulders.

"God, you're too good to live! Who told ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you to nail a streaming angle that hard?!"

"Aagh—! Hyung, that hurts! I just got out of a fight!"

Dying in the Channel didn't carry over, but injuries synced to a degree depending on the synchronization rate. Spent stamina and mana, especially, didn't recover even after you disconnected. In short, I was a scarecrow scraped empty of both.

The drain is no joke.

I'd refused to show it while the stream was live, but the moment the tension broke, my whole body started to ache. Thanks to Iris I didn't have a scratch, but dumping every last drop of mana in a single burst had taken more out of me than I liked.

"A little consideration for a man who just got off work..."

"Heh heh. Look at this. Your pain'll vanish on the spot."

Hyung shoved a screen in my face. It displayed the money today's broadcast had brought in. With the donation alerts off, it couldn't have been that much—

"One... ten... a hundred... a thousand... ten thousand... a hundred thousand... a million... ten million..."

Wait. Hold on. How many zeros was that?

"...I'm not reading this wrong, am I?"

"You're not."

"Won, right? Not Zimbabwean dollars."

"It's Korean won, you idiot!"

My brain shut off for a second. Then the power came back on, slowly, and—

"Waaaaaah!"

Dopamine detonated with it. Blood rushed through my whole body, and the fatigue vanished like a ghost.

That much money came in over a single day?

Even granting the bait of a first-ever scenario, the number was absurd.

"You can check the donation count and the amounts by time slot, see?"

Hyung fiddled with the settings and pulled up the detailed figures. Aside from a single exception, every spike had something in common. Everything except the stretch where I was fighting the Calamity Giant.

Those are the scenes with Iris.

These bastards. They hadn't donated to me. They'd donated to Iris. It stung a little — and then the size of the number melted my heart right down.

"Heaven was on our side, too. A normal scenario never would've pulled numbers like this."

Hyung dropped onto the sofa and draped both arms over the back of it. The classic posture of a man who'd gotten rich overnight.

"So what was that scenario, anyway?"

"Maybe the Channel cooked up a special scenario just for me. To shove me into Silver as fast as it could."

"Could be. Oh, right. The broadcast made me forget I meant to say this."

Hyung grinned and opened his mouth.

"Congrats on Silver!"

It was definitely worth celebrating. Hearing it from hyung, though, hit different. I'd spent my whole life on the receiving end of his comfort.

"...Hyung. You didn't forget the bet, did you?"

Flinch!

At my words, hyung froze mid-motion.

"A b-bet... did we do something like that...?"

"You said if I didn't hit Silver within a month, you'd grant me one wish. Don't even think about running."

"Ahem..."

"Don't get so tense~ It's nothing that hard. You trust me, right?"

Hyung's pupils trembled. Those were absolutely not the eyes of a man who trusted other people.

"O-oh, to celebrate hitting Silver, dinner's on me today! Get ready and come out. I'll head over first!"

Hyung vanished in an instant.

"...Did that guy become a player when I wasn't looking?"

Faster than most Swift skills. I could've sworn he'd left an afterimage.

Anyway, that wraps this up.

Promoting myself was proceeding nicely, and the rank was Silver. What remained was advancing my class and filling in the stats I still lacked. And—

Returning to the KPL.

Calling it a return felt a little awkward, honestly. Back in my Sky Epic days, I'd never played a single match. So let's use a different word.

The time had finally come to take my place on that brilliant battlefield. Of course, before that...

"I should check this first."

I pulled forward the golden window I'd set aside earlier.

Why did I make a bet like that...

The grilled pork-belly joint in front of the house. Jung Soohyuk ordered his usual three servings of pork belly and a bottle of soju. Lamenting like this didn't change anything. How many people could have predicted he'd actually reach Silver in a month — no, in less than a week? It was less that Jung Soohyuk had made a losing bet, and closer to Shin Jaeha having bet on a win.

"What on earth is he planning to ask for, laying the groundwork like that."

He said it, but he couldn't hold back the pleased smile tugging at his mouth. He stretched long, and was just about to watch the highlight clips going up on the site when—

Bzzz—!

His phone buzzed, and a message came through.

A number he hadn't saved.

"What? I save and remember pretty much every number..."

He was digging through his memory, trying to place who it was, when the sender revealed themselves first.

"Joo... Joo Yeonseo...?!"

Startled, Jung Soohyuk shot to his feet. Her identity wasn't widely known, but a handful of people who'd grown old in this industry knew her through the grapevine. Chairman Joo Yulcheon's late-born granddaughter — and, in practice, the name ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠being floated as the next chairman.

A heavyweight, hidden in plain sight.