Yeah, That's the Kind of Stream

I finished the gukbap.

Who knew a special-size bowl would actually fill me up.

Back in the day, even a special-size gukbap plus a mini plate of boiled pork barely scratched the surface. Now one bowl and I was stuffed solid. I used to knock back the broth like water, too — now I couldn't even get plain water down.

Guess that's just how it is.

The gukbap itself was solid. That ordinary neighborhood pork-soup-joint vibe — the kind every district has one of. Good enough for me.

I picked my teeth with a toothpick, settled the bill, got home, and powered on my phone. It had been dead at the restaurant — no battery left to even boot.

The second I plugged it into the charger and turned it on, the notifications poured in.

Well — "poured" was generous. A handful of texts and a few missed calls. But in this world, almost nobody ever contacted me, so by that standard it was a flood.

I checked them.

First up: the messaging app that had somehow gotten weirder after the last update.

…?

An unexpected love call. Last time we'd talked, she hadn't been nearly this aggressive.

The second the "1" unread badge vanished, I could see her already typing something else — I mashed the back button in a hurry.

Next: a text.

A long, dry, pretentious guild introduction, followed by a cheerful rundown of how easy and fun joining would be. Benefits and figures that laughed at mere hundreds of millions of won, listed out one after another.

So what's left for me in this deal?

I'd only thought it to myself — but the text already had the answer.

…The Eclipse Guild will always stand by your side.

I was what was left, apparently.

In other words: they saw potential in me worth more than all those numbers.

Is it really that big a deal?

One-shotting dog-moles — was that actually impressive? I just swung and they died.

I shouldn't have thought it, but it felt like a game. Whack-a-mole. Time the swing, club goes down, mole goes down. The only hit I'd taken was that ambush from the wall, and even that did zero damage thanks to the gear.

…Isn't this just gear carry?

The weapon looked like absolute garbage, sure — but it was mythic-grade. The performance was overwhelming. Without that gear advantage, Kim Dongmin would've had a miserable time.

I still didn't get why they were rating me this high.

I turned off my phone, lay down on the bed, and pulled the teddy bear purified by Wheelchair Best Driver's clothes into a hug.

"…I'm bored."

The bank was closed. I'd already eaten. Shopping crossed my mind, then the memory of the Association last time hit me — getting hit on roughly once every ten steps.

"Yeah. Not going out."

Which left one option.

"Internet it is."

I got up, sat at the chair, flicked the PC on with my toes out of habit, and went online.

"YouTube… nothing to watch."

With no concept of internet streaming as I knew it, the content was barren. The only watchable stuff was hunter clear footage and the occasional absurd challenge video.

"Barehanded skydiving? What the hell is this."

A European hunter skydiving without a parachute. Title and thumbnail both so unhinged I had no choice but to click.

—Starting now, I'm going to skydive barehanded from thirty-five hundred meters up!

A dubbed voice kicked in as the hunter strapped a camera to his body — then immediately jumped out of the plane.

—Woohoo! This is actually insane!

The dubbed voice kept going as the hunter's face filled the frame. Falling from that height, and not a single wrinkle of panic on him.

Hunters really are hunters, huh.

The feed cut to a ground camera at the landing zone. A moment later — the instant of impact — the landing site went full mosaic. Even so, the blood exploding in every direction didn't fully hide.

"…Ugh, fuck."

Now I understood the camera cut. First-person, that would've been a snuff film. Gore. The ground was soaked so thick it barely looked real. The cameraman walked over, and the hunter from a second ago popped up roaring with laughter.

—Hahaha! I am immortal!

A man standing in a lake of blood, everything but his face mosaicked out, screaming in triumph.

—See that? That's my Constellation's skill! The skill name? That's a secret.

"…What, some kind of vampire skill?"

The amount of blood spraying was way past normal — that direction felt right.

Wait — a Romanian hunter? That's not even subtle.

Whatever. Far-away country, not my problem.

I need to get some skill transfers myself, though.

The only Constellation whose true name I knew was Xiang Yu. Famous enough that I knew him well — the strongest man in the Chu-Han Contention. The whole "Overlord" title got popular because of him.

Martial power goes without saying.

And then the one I strongly suspected: Feel-Good Potion.

Not suspicion at this point. Basically confirmed.

Feel-Good Potion had to be Dionysus. The god who makes you pay if you kill the vibe… that was a joke. God of wine, as far as I knew.

Can this one actually fight?

I hoped the skill transfer wouldn't just be "how to mix the perfect soju-beer bomb."

Come to think of it, Wheelchair Best Driver said he'd tell me his true name too.

I'd gotten the clothes as a PPL deal. He'd basically saved my life — I owed him a return favor.

Not that I could get skill transfers right this second. I'd have to go live, actually ask, and there was no guarantee any Constellation would hand one over.

I've got a club, so maybe a dokkaebi teaching me skills would have good synergy? Wait — are there even dokkaebi Constellations?

One thought chained into the next until I'd wandered into pure nonsense.

"Eh. Take it slow."

The recruitment offers from the Association and the guild — reject them for now. I'd only been a hunter for four days. No need to lock myself into anything yet.

I messaged Han Nami and Eclipse HR from my phone.

Then I searched for Hunternet.

Last time, nearly every post had been about me, so I'd closed it fast. This time would be different. Hunternet was the distilled essence of hunter talk and tips — free tuition from senior hunters. A genuine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠learning ground.

I checked the board.

"Ah."

Fuck.

I didn't read the posts. I just closed the browser and shut down the PC on the spot.

Going live and talking to people for a bit seemed healthier, so I started the stream.

"Get out."

"Yesterday I was really drunk and made a complete spectacle of myself."

"Ugh… just. Ugh."

I should've stuck with Hunternet.

"Who the fuck is this guy."

Why did they keep hunting for my virginity. I'd never even dated — of course I was a virgin.

…I don't know how this body used to live, though.

Probably still a virgin? Maybe I should get checked at a hospital later.

"This looks like banter to you? Get out."

The username alone pissed me off. What's good about Mondays. They're garbage.

"If you're gonna write a novel in the donation message, drop at least a hundred Coins. Come on."

"Aigoo, stop spamming and get out. Is this guy insane."

"Right. You wrote weird shit on the clip too, didn't you? Get out."

Every single stream, the same thought hit me: I still couldn't believe these bastards were actual Constellations.

Two hundred Constellations watching my stream total. Only a handful actually typed in chat, but that was normal. Most Constellations ran multiple streams at once.

"I was originally going to take the day off, but I saw something interesting in the shop."

I pointed at the Viewer Participation Ticket sitting in the store.

"Apparently you can use this to transfer skills. So if anyone here would be willing to teach me a skill……"

…What.

Why were there so many volunteers?