Secret Weapon

Lately, I've had something on my mind.

It wasn't a problem related to the game.

Since becoming a trainee, my skills had been improving at a rate that "leaps and bounds" didn't even begin to describe.

The Berserker class, which I had started playing simply because it was strong, had now practically become my signature. I had nothing to worry about on that front.

The problem was that my social anxiety showed no signs of improving.

Honestly, it was better than before, but it was still a major obstacle.

If I wanted to truly become a pro gamer, it was an issue I had to address sooner or later.

People I had met multiple times were fine.

I was human, after all, so seeing them and talking to them repeatedly built up a certain level of familiarity.

People like Na Jia, Lee Seul-bi, and Hero had become quite comfortable to be around.

The problem lay with people I was meeting for the first time.

In front of complete strangers, my brain would completely melt.

The reason Yu Nabi had despaired in the past was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ultimately because she couldn't overcome the gaze of the unspecified masses.

The eyes of the audience she didn't know, and the judges evaluating her, had shattered her sanity.

If my thoughts could freeze up even inside the game, it was obvious what would happen if I had to face a crowd in real life.

And this fear didn't just stop at a psychological level.

If it were just a matter of my mind freezing and my tongue tripping, that would be manageable.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

When it got worse, my vision would spin, and nausea would wash over me.

In the end, I would lose the ability to think entirely and spiral into a panic attack. That was my current state.

Inside a quiet, empty cafe.

Fidgeting, I finally voiced my conclusion.

Slurp. Na Jia, who was sipping her drink, looked up at me.

Meeting her eyes was still difficult, so I kept my gaze lowered slightly.

"So... I was thinking of trying live streaming."

"I really don't get it. How does this conversation lead to streaming?"

"Well... it's the lowest-risk way to face people."

"Ah, is that so? Hmm. Now that you mention it, that does make sense."

I hadn't thought of streaming from the very beginning.

Naturally, the first thing I tried was consulting a specialist.

Actually, it wasn't my first time seeking therapy.

I had gone once before at my parents' suggestion when I first shut myself in my room.

But back then, even meeting a doctor was too much for Yu Nabi, so she had unilaterally canceled the appointment and hidden in her room.

Thinking about it that way, I could understand why my parents kept saying I had gotten much brighter lately.

The daughter who had locked herself away, refusing to even go to a clinic, was now going to the gym to work out and actually meeting people.

It really was a massive leap forward.

Of course, the consultation hadn't yielded any miraculous results.

Mental health issues weren't the kind of things that got cured overnight.

It wasn't a problem that could be solved just by changing one's mindset, nor could it be cured simply by taking medicine and getting plenty of rest.

Ultimately, what I needed right now was a form of training.

I couldn't just keep running away.

If so, I had to get used to it somehow and overcome it step by step.

In that regard, streaming was a surprisingly decent method.

I didn't know what train of thought had led Hero to suggest streaming,

but like a blind man stumbling into the right path, it turned out to be the correct answer.

"At first, I was going to refuse. I mean, honestly, I can barely talk to people, so how could I stream?"

"But then you thought it might not be so bad after all?"

"Yes. The doctor said it would be fine, as long as no major issues crop up."

"And what do you think, Nabi?"

"I'm not sure. I don't hate the idea anymore, but... can I really do it?"

It wasn't unusual for pro gamers to stream.

In fact, it was highly encouraged, to the point where some teams even had clauses mandating personal streams.

I hadn't asked about our team's policy yet, so I didn't know.

For now, Hero had told me I didn't need to do anything grand.

Just play the game like usual.

And just leave the stream running.

Then, occasionally glance at the chat, and reply if I felt like it.

"I thought... maybe I could manage at least that much. But I'm still a bit scared, so I wanted to get some advice."

"Advice, huh? Well, streams for streamers like me and pro gamers are different, so I don't really have any specific advice to give."

"O-oh, really?"

"But since you asked, if I had to think of something... I'd say don't let people's words get to you too much."

Na Jia began to speak quietly.

I listened intently, taking a sip through my straw.

The distinct sweetness ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of watermelon lingered in my mouth.

Not everyone in the world can love you.

That goes for pro gamers, streamers, celebrities, or anyone else.

There is no one who is praised by everyone and hated by no one.

If such a person existed, it would actually feel bizarre.

So, once you become famous, there's a burden you inevitably have to carry.

Someone will always hate you.

They will curse and criticize you for the most ridiculous reasons.

You'll face mindless malice that makes you wonder why anyone would go to such lengths.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"To be honest, I'm really worried. Those kinds of people hurt even me. It might be too overwhelming for you, Nabi."

"But... I have to face it eventually."

"True. In that case, hmm... want me to teach you a secret weapon?"

A secret weapon?

My head tilted slightly to the side.

"When you're streaming, there might be moments when you feel like you absolutely can't take it anymore, right?"

"Yes."

"When that happens, just turn off the stream. You're not doing this for the money, and you don't have set hours. Won't it feel a bit easier if you remember you can turn it off whenever you want?"

"But if I keep turning it off, it won't be much of a training..."

"That's why you have to try your best not to turn it off."

Na Jia giggled.

Seeing her laugh like that somehow put my mind at ease.

This was training.

And since it was training, it was okay to let go when it became truly unbearable.

The pressure that the word "streaming" carried seemed to lighten just a bit.