Fist Closer Than Law
Offline, Minji was relatively well-behaved—separate from the chaos she stirred up online with coins that were destined to moon. The word “relatively” carried its usual caveats; some people might still look at her and think, Is that girl completely out of her mind? But what did it matter what others thought when she herself believed she was behaving? (It mattered, obviously.)
So why did this lunatic act so tame outside? Simple. “Um… is this because of the balance patch earlier? I-I really didn’t mean anything bad by it. It was just pure curiosity, so… I hope you’re not misunderstanding…”
She just didn’t want to get hit.
Even though she’d grown up without parents and her head was emptier than most, the few good things about Korea—like mandatory education—had at least taught Minji basic common sense and random bits of knowledge. Among them, one four-character idiom had struck her hardest: beop-won-gwon-geun. Law is far, fist is near.
The original meaning warned that people tend to reach for violence over reason when cornered, so one should be careful. But like most old sayings, it could be twisted. Minji had twisted it completely: fists were closer than the law. Therefore, if you didn’t want to get punched, don’t cause trouble. A thought process only a complete airhead could arrive at.
Anyway, the sudden request for a meeting with the director set her small, empty brain spinning at full speed. Why would the director want to see me? Well, there’s nothing, but if I had to guess… it’s because of that question earlier.
What question? “Your balance patch is gonna suck, right? I already knew you’d do this, so I blocked your escape route, lol.”
How would the director feel about that? Obviously pissed off.
Click. Her brain stopped turning. Wait. Is he calling me because…? A chill ran down her spine. If anyone else heard this thought, they’d call her an idiot—why would a game company personally summon and gang-beat a single user just because they didn’t like them? But thoughts were free, and that freedom was granted even to fools like her. If someone hated the idea of an airhead like her having the same voting rights as everyone else, they could always hop in a tank and make history. Of course, that had already been done twice, so it wasn’t exactly easy.
“Pardon? Ah, no… it’s not because of what happened at today’s showcase. It’s probably for a different reason. The schedule was already set aside a while ago.”
“A while ago?”
“Yes, yes.”
Any normal person would’ve gone, “Oh, I must’ve been mistaken!” and moved on. Someone whose head was as empty as Minji’s—someone who genuinely believed in flat-earth theories or the Illuminati—would’ve thought, “They’ve been planning to screw me over from the start!” Fortunately, Minji wasn’t that far gone.
“Mm, got it. But I’ll go ask my group first.”
“Of course. I’ll wait here.”
Leaving the planning team leader—who was neatly dressed in a suit and wearing a friendly smile—behind, Minji headed toward Suha, who was chatting with the other streamers in the distance. She’d been sitting right next to her earlier; when had she wandered all the way over there? In reality, while Minji had been sprawled out “not sleeping” (in her own mind), Suha had stepped away to network with the others.
As Minji approached, the other streamers’ gazes sharpened with wariness. Who’s that? Isn’t that the person from earlier? No, it’s her—the Saint? Seongna? That person.
Suha followed their stares and brightened. “Seongna! You’re up?”
“…Was I asleep?”
“You were even snoring.”
No way. When? Her posture had been uncomfortable, yet she’d still dozed off. Minji’s hand instinctively rose to the back of her head and scratched—well, rubbed the back of her helmet instead. Suha chuckled, and the nearby streamers’ eyes darted between the two of them.
They seem closer than I thought. Does that mean I should try to get close too? Ugh… another competitor.
Networking among streamers was surprisingly businesslike. Everyone had been trying to build a connection with Suha, a major corporate streamer. For someone like her—who usually kept a polite but firm distance—to suddenly run over with such a bright smile… the wariness and attention toward Seongna skyrocketed in an instant.
“Uh… really? Ahem. Anyway, that’s not important. Suha, I need to step out for a bit.”
“Huh? Suddenly? Where?”
“Dunno. The director wants to see me.”
“Huuuh?!”
The scream didn’t come from Suha. One of the nearby streamers who’d overheard blurted it out. Everyone’s attention snapped toward them, but no one scolded the rudeness. After all, anyone who could keep their composure after hearing that deserved praise.
“The director…? Min—Seongna, you?”
Suha couldn’t hide her shock either. If Jeon Gangseop had called all the Ias streamers together, that would be one thing. But summoning just one person individually was extremely unusual. He wouldn’t do it out of personal fandom, so it had to be official business—probably a partnership contract, ad deal, or promotional broadcast request.
“That’s great! Even one ad deal would be pretty lucrative.”
Whichever it was, it was a golden opportunity no streamer should miss. Suha beamed with genuine happiness, while the surrounding streamers shot Minji envious looks. Anyone could tell how big this chance was just from their reactions.
“Mm, sounds annoying. Do I really have to take it?”
The listeners weren’t idiots.
“Hey, one ad could earn you what you’d make in a month of streaming. Plus you’d build connections with the company. It’s a huge opportunity.”
“I mean… I only stream for fun, and I’m not really interested in connections either.”
Resentful stares poured toward Minji—If that’s how you feel, then call me instead!—but she remained unfazed. She interpreted the intense looks as, Can’t a person just wear a helmet? Why are they staring so much? It was the perfect defense only an idiot could pull off, proving once again that you shouldn’t pick a fight with a fool.
“Anyway, I’ll be back.”
Minji trudged off toward the suited employee. Watching her retreating figure, Suha thought, She’s definitely gonna say she’s not interested in ads or anything and just walk out. As a fellow streamer she felt a twinge of jealousy, but as a friend she hoped Minji would seize this chance.
“Hey, Seongna.”
Suha had figured out the one way to handle her. “While you’re there, ask if they can give you the PC early.”
“Huh?”
“Think about it. You already made it to the finals, and the Ias custom PC is a prize for reaching the finals, right?”
“That’s true.”
“You don’t even have a computer at home—you’re streaming from PC bangs. They can at least do that much, can’t they?”
Of course Ias wasn’t a charity. They wouldn’t say, “Oh, you don’t have a computer at home? We’ll bring one right over!” But asking to receive something you were already going to get a little earlier shouldn’t be a problem. And if Ias showed some consideration first, Minji wouldn’t be able to casually reject their ad proposal either. She might be dumb and nasty, but she was still a good kid at heart.
“O-oh…”
Even with the helmet completely covering her face, Suha could picture Minji’s expression perfectly—eyes wide, mouth hanging open in awe. Whoa, how did you think of that? Genius!
“Then hurry up and go. If you take too long I’m leaving without you.”
“What am I, your grandma? Fine, I’ll be quick!”
Minji waved her hands wildly as she left, while the surrounding streamers stared at her in disbelief. After that, things went back to normal.
“Ah, right, Suha-nim, did you hear about that news?”
Following the planning team leader, Seongna stepped into a room and instinctively looked around. Hmm, no one else here. She’d been worried there might be some scary guys waiting with bats, but thankfully that didn’t seem to be the case. Even though the team leader had repeatedly assured her otherwise, she was the type to suspect first and never believe.
Well, considering the grudges she’d built up online, it wasn’t that strange for her to be so paranoid.
As she entered, Jeon Gangseop, who had been sitting on a temporary sofa, stood up and approached. “Hello, Seongna-nim.”
He extended a hand politely—the most ordinary greeting in human society. Minji stared at it. One hand this time? Or both?
“Hello, Director. I’m Seongnyeo Naise.”
She didn’t hesitate long. He’d said it wasn’t a personal call, so one hand was probably correct.
“Sorry for calling you so suddenly. I was too eager to meet you and ended up being rude.”
Minji’s mouth fell open. What? Since when was this guy so eloquent? Unfortunately for Jeon Gangseop, he’d long been criticized by users for being a poor speaker—mostly because he’d been compared to the previous director, who was exceptionally charismatic. Still, if you were bad at it, that was on you.
Minji had walked in expecting the usual awkward, inarticulate Jeon Gangseop. Instead, sitting before her was someone who spoke clearly and confidently—the Ias director, Jeon Gangseop?!
“Uh, no… it’s fine.”
Of course, she couldn’t say out loud, You’re better at talking than I expected, so she swallowed the question.
“Haha, would you like something to drink? We have juice too.”
“Juice, then.”
“We have orange and mango. Which do you prefer?”
“Mm, mango, please.”
A chilled glass of mango juice with ice floating in it was placed in front of Minji. Watching Jeon Gangseop pour himself a casual cup of coffee, her eyes narrowed. What’s with him being so nice? At this point it’s more suspicious than anything.
Just as her tension rose ever so slightly—
Good thing I prepared juice just in case. If I’d known, I would’ve bought organic.
Jeon Gangseop thought this while staying perfectly composed, not a single drop of sweat on his face. The streamer in front of him could become Ias’s new symbol. With the PvP tournament finals and first-clear events, her popularity would only grow. She was a coin that couldn’t help but moon. No reason not to buy at the current low price. So he had to approach carefully—start with a partnership streamer contract, then ease into small ad deals…
“Ah, now that I think about it, I can’t drink like this. I’ll take the helmet off for a second.”
“Ah, yes.”
Just as Jeon Gangseop’s brain was spinning at full capacity—
“Phew, now I can finally breathe.”
“…Huh?”
Screeech. His brain slammed on the brakes.