No Such Thing as a Free Gift
People say you don’t need to weigh gains and losses to grow close to someone. Kim Yeon-hee found the sentiment utterly laughable. She wanted nothing more than to see the face of whoever had spouted such nonsense.
Whether it was complete strangers or blood relatives, humans were creatures that always calculated profit and loss. [Hey, I’m the eldest son, so of course I should get at least this much. That’s only fair, right?] [Big bro, you didn’t even care when Mom was hospitalized. Now that she’s gone you’re talking about inheritance?] [What did you just say, you little shit?!]
After decades together, a few measly coins could turn family into mortal enemies. So what did blood even mean? There was no such thing as unconditional love in this world. Even if it looked free at first, the price would always be demanded eventually—whether from child to parent or parent to child.
Love and devotion were quantified into contribution scores, converted into costs, and written into contracts and balance sheets. Kim Yeon-hee had grown up that way, endlessly aware that the unconditional love she received was never truly free.
[Haah… If only your sister had lived instead…]
And when she failed to pay that price, the cold stares and indifference that followed were buried deep in her heart. Unconditional love did not exist. Unconditional kindness and help did not exist either. Anyone who believed or claimed otherwise was either a fool or a blatant liar. Yeon-hee sincerely believed that.
“N-no, Yeoru-nim…! This is way too much… I, um, I’m sorry but I can’t accept this much…!”
“It’s fine, Seongna-nim. You’ll pay me back in full someday, and then some. So don’t worry about it. People like us know better than anyone, right? Nothing in this world is free.”
Yeoru has donated 1,000 won!
“I feel bad because it’s probably my fault you ended up like this ㅠㅠ Just take it.”
So just accept it for now. And let’s get closer. I think we’ll get along really well.
Title: Accusing Streamer Yeoru
Author: Senbing
Hello everyone, I used to stream under the name Senbing. I’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time. I know exactly what kind of reaction it’ll get, but I decided I couldn’t just bury it alone anymore. Whether you believe me or not is entirely up to you.
First, let me introduce myself. As I said, I was a streamer known as Senbing in the past. I was also in a relationship with the current Ias streamer Yeoru before she blew up. A lot of you are probably doubting the credibility of this post already. I understand. To convince you even a little, I should start from before Yeoru became successful…
After Yeoru joined the raid party, the atmosphere inside slowly changed. Opinions like “she’s not helpful for streaming” or “viewer reactions aren’t great” started getting repeated, and one by one the original members left. There wasn’t any big public fight. But in the end, the remaining members were clearly the ones Yeoru preferred. I was still the nominal raid leader, but the direction and mood of the party gradually centered around her. As her stream grew, my own position felt more and more awkward. Eventually I was effectively excluded from the party, and our relationship ended without any clear closure…
Some of you might wonder why I’m writing this. I’m not trying to ruin Yeoru, and I’m not trying to make a comeback in streaming either. I just want people to know how Yeoru got to where she is and whether that process was clean. I’ll leave the judgment to you.
— Is that gallery post real?
— Yeoru is actually like that????
— Guys, I get that it’s been a while since we had juicy drama, but watch what you comment
— So who the hell is Senbing?
— What’s this “Yeoru’s ex-boyfriend” rumor?
— I just got off work and the gallery’s gone insane, what happened?
The raid party members began trickling into voice chat once the scheduled time arrived. They had probably been ready for a while, but the fact that they hadn’t shown up yet meant everyone was still awkward with each other. Of course, the old demons from the Apocalypse Gallery who had known each other for years were different.
“Puhaha! I can’t believe you actually went outside like that. You’re not right in the head, seriously.”
“Still better than some net-café addict who uses that disgusting speech pattern as a hobby.”
“Eeh? Ryonggak-chan, are you playing favorites with Seongna-chan right now? I’m really hurt, you know?”
“Anyway, Seongna says she won’t use her mic today. She might use it occasionally, but her nose is stuffy so she’s avoiding it. Let’s just push as far as we can today and call it early if it looks like we won’t clear.”
“Clearing today would be ideal, but why do you think we won’t?”
Seongnyeo Naise: Possible
“She says it is. Alright everyone, let’s go hard~”
Thus began the second day of the Naise Squad’s Bolekia raid. Only one gate remained, but because the boss of that gate was Bolekia, predicting a clear had become extremely difficult.
Bolekia’s sword is imbued with a golden aura…
…!
Raid attempt failed.
“One, two, three… now!”
Suha-yam has died.
Diro has died.
“Ah, ah, sorry…”
“Ugh, I’m sorry… Why did I mess up the timing…”
Raid attempt failed.
Seongnyeo Naise has died.
Seongnyeo Naise: No, seriously, I was blowing my nose—
Raid attempt failed.
After roughly four hours of struggle on the second day, the Naise Squad’s attempt ended with only sixteen more lines shaved off compared to the previous day, stopping at 234 lines.
“Huu… Let’s rest for a bit.”
“I’ll go get some water, we’re out…”
“Ah, me too.”
“Then I shall as well…”
Long raids wore down both body and mind. Sitting for hours was already bad for the body, and the mental fatigue from facing a high-difficulty boss like Bolekia was no joke. If they had been making steady progress, they could at least tell themselves the clear was in sight, but repeating the same spot over and over made even that hope feel distant.
“Haaack… Ha, shit… I’m dying… I’m seriously dying, fuck…”
Even the healthy members were complaining they felt like death, so someone whose body wasn’t in normal condition had it far worse.
Normally the viewers who bantered and fought with Minji were now visibly concerned about her worsening condition. Well, their usual bickering was just WWE for broadcast entertainment, so this reaction was actually normal. Viewers who still couldn’t read the room and kept acting up had long since become cold corpses thanks to Minji’s countless ban waves.
“Haa… I’m logging off… I’ll rest a bit…”
Even when given break time, Minji would usually chat with viewers, but today was different. Every breath made her head throb, something felt stuck in her throat making it hard to breathe, and her whole body burned like it was on fire.
“Uueeh…”
In the end, Minji tossed her headset aside and flopped onto the bed. She hadn’t tidied up since last night, so the room was a mess, but given her current condition it wasn’t surprising.
Buzz— Buzz—
Just as she lay there with her eyes closed trying to rest, the annoying vibration rang out. Why did the phone always ring whenever she tried to rest? Did they plan this without her or something?
Buzz— Buzz—
“Aish.”
Knowing full well that wasn’t the case, Minji swallowed her irritation and picked up the phone. The moment she saw the name on the screen, all her annoyance vanished.
“Hello? Pastor-nim?”
The caller was none other than the pastor who was like a father to her.
“Hello? It’s been a while, Minji. How have you been?”
“Yes… I’ve been fine.”
“That’s good… Hm, your voice sounds different. Are you sick somewhere?”
Ah, her voice. Minji roughly scratched her messy, uncombed hair. She hadn’t wanted to worry him…
“Um… I caught a cold.”
She couldn’t lie to the pastor, so she confessed honestly.
“What? A cold?! How did that happen?! No, wait—have you eaten? I’ll make some porridge and bring it over right now! Just wait a—”
“Pastor-nim, I already ate, you really don’t have to go that far…”
“Still, if you’re sick, how can I just… No, you’re all grown up now…”
She had worried he might actually come over, but thankfully he came back to his senses. At times like this, the pastor was the same as ever. Even back when she was Lee Min-wook, he had always worried like this whenever she got hurt.
“Anyway, I’m really okay. I’m resting at home, so please don’t worry.”
“…Alright, rest well. Ah, right. There was something I wanted to ask. Did you quit all your part-time jobs?”
“Huh?”
Part-time jobs? Minji didn’t understand what he meant at first, but then she realized. On the day Lee Min-wook became Lee Min-ji, the calendar had been packed with part-time shifts.
“Ah, I quit them all.”
Back then she had quit irresponsibly because it was annoying, but now she had a job that paid more than enough for rent, so there was no reason to go back. Well, the pastor didn’t know she was streaming, so of course he’d be curious.
“You quit…? Then, have you… stopped looking for them too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, no, it’s nothing. I said something unnecessary. Rest well.”
She didn’t know what the pastor was referring to, but there was no need to dig deeper. After finishing the call, she felt a little better—probably thanks to even that short rest. The headache had eased somewhat. At this rate, it wasn’t too bad.
“Huuup… Everyone, I’m ba— huh?”
When she sat back down in front of the computer, the chat was filled with messages sympathizing with her.
“What is this?”
She had no idea why, but the chat was full of viewers feeling sorry for her.