Broadcasting is Hard
Ju Ae-ri's debut broadcast drew quite a crowd, thanks to Lee Jung-woo's marketing. '12,000 viewers? What the hell...'
I was under massive pressure. My mind was blank on how to run a broadcast with so many people watching my first one. Sure, if I were Hwang Bo-jun, maybe, but back in my original world, I'd only ever watched streams—I never imagined doing one myself. How do other people talk so smoothly in front of crowds like this?
The chat log was flying up nonstop. I could barely keep up with my eyes. How do streamers respond to every single one of those lightning-fast messages?
"You mean what happened at the Bohemia Church? Well, it started like..."
I decided to reply to the first chat I saw. As I spilled the Bohemia Church tale, the chat sped up even more.
"P-please, everyone, no fighting."
Managing chat was tough too. How do you handle trolls like that?
Sure enough, chat suggested hiring a manager. I'd heard streamers get managers to handle chat. Makes sense—it's impossible to stream and moderate at the same time. After the broadcast, I'd ask Lee Jung-woo to help find one.
"I brought a game to play today. Is that okay?"
I asked H.E.R.A. to launch the game. The one I'd picked for my debut was Royal Field, a survival VR FPS. I linked it to the broadcast, logged in, and hit matchmaking. Being a popular game, it grabbed a match instantly.
I picked a landing spot and dropped in, rushing into a building to farm gear fast.
While looting the building, I spotted someone hiding behind a pillar—just a single pixel sticking out.
"Nice."
They hadn't noticed me yet, no movement. I snuck up and punched them.
"Wha—when?!"
"Too late!"
Unlike PC FPS games, Royal Field had a vital hit system, possible in full-dive VR. Hit vital spots like in real life for crits. I slammed my fist into their solar plexus.
"Guhk!"
Fist did low damage, so they didn't drop.
"One more!"
This time, I went for a kick to the gut. But—
"Guuuhk!"
"Ah..."
I misjudged the angle and hit... between the legs.
The guy nut-shot rolled on the ground, then disconnected—probably the game and nanomachines detecting the issue and force-logging him out.
"I win."
I hid my embarrassment with a smile for the viewers.
In a way, I'd made an impact.
I farmed up, picking off foes one by one, until the bombing zone shrank, forcing the last five into a tight space.
We hid behind cover, peeking at each other.
Bang!
A gunshot broke the standoff. I rolled out and charged forward.
"Where you at!"
I dodged incoming bullets with a roll, then fired back at the shooter's direction.
Bang!
My bullet pierced their forehead. Headshot crit—they retired. I dashed to cover.
"Four left."
Apparently, KitsuneNoona was in my match. Cyber Rekka, right? She was part of why I got known as the Golden Sun Hero... sorta.
'Sure, it helped marketing, but personally, I'm salty. No mercy.'
KitsuneNoona quickly wiped the other three, setting up a 1v1.
"Whoa~ Didn't expect to see you here, Golden Sun Hero."
"KitsuneNoona. You caused me some headaches. Time to settle up."
"Respect for making it this far. But the final winner's this fox sis."
We lunged. Flames spat from her gun, bullets raining at me.
"Too slow!"
I rolled past, aimed for her forehead, and fired.
Bang!
The bullet should've pierced her forehead... ping!
"Huh?"
"Pay-to-win games are the best. Custom items are god-tier."
She capitalized on my shock. Her bullet pierced my forehead. "You are dead" flashed, game over.
'Damn P2W whale...'
I cursed KitsuneNoona inwardly—and the devs selling balance-wrecking BS. Old game or not, that greedy monetization was dogshit.
* * * *
"Thanks for watching, everyone. I'll post the next schedule on the community."
I ended my eventful first stream. As soon as it shut off, I flopped onto the bed in my room.
"Haa~ That was exhausting."
But fun. I got why people stream—not just for cash, but the thrill, like me.
"Right, gotta ask about a manager."
I called H.E.R.A. to message Lee Jung-woo, but she said there was an unread message.
"What?"
It was from Duk-cheol. I replied: Thanks for tuning in.
"Wait, could Duk-cheol be my manager?"
Better a familiar face than a stranger. On a whim, I messaged him asking if he'd do it.
Reply came quick.
"Sweet, Duk-cheol's in."
I messaged back: Thanks, looking forward to next stream. Then flopped back, replaying the day.
"Viewers were chill, lucky."
First stream, and they were nice. No toxic ones yet—fingers crossed.
"What to do next time?"
Mulling future streams, fatigue hit, and my eyes drifted shut.