It's Bothering Me

It's bothering me.

Nangin Geomgaek's first stream — after so long without going live — drew an absolute storm of attention. He pulled a staggering five thousand viewers right out of the gate.

And after that debut, interest in him didn't cool off in the slightest. If anything, it burned hotter.

The reason was simple: he'd announced he was getting a mic, and on top of that, he'd promised a Q&A stream where he'd take questions and answer them live.

Five thousand people had already been watching when he made that announcement, so the news spread faster and farther than word of his first stream ever had. By the next day, a massive crowd had gathered just to hear the voice of Nangin Geomgaek — the most famous amateur high-elo craftsman who neither streamed nor played professionally.

A full thousand more than yesterday. Six thousand viewers poured in during the morning hours, and Nangin Geomgaek finally revealed the deep, mature voice he'd kept hidden until now.

All he'd done was turn on a mic — and the chat still went wild.

Remembering why he'd gone live in the first place, he started taking questions right away. All kinds of them rolled in, and he kept the talk going until the one he actually wanted finally appeared.

How long did he stall? Long enough.

The moment he confirmed the question he'd been waiting for, Nangin Geomgaek answered it as naturally as breathing.

"Honestly, the reason I went live yesterday is also related to Barcode."

Watching the chat carefully, he chose his words with care so no harm would fall on the Mysterious Yone Master.

"I kept losing to Barcode, and I wanted to win so badly that yesterday I messaged them for the first time and asked if I could stream snipe."

"Barcode agreed without hesitation. On one condition, that is."

"Yes. The reason I went live for the first time is because Barcode told me to start streaming."

The viewers understood where Nangin Geomgaek was coming from. Getting crushed over and over by the Mysterious Yone Master and wanting to win just once — that wasn't strange at all.

The chat's reaction wasn't bad, so the corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he continued.

"But Barcode and I also made a bet yesterday."

"No. Nothing like account deletion. After I took a seven-game losing streak to them yesterday, we agreed that if I won even once in the next three games, Barcode would stream for a full day."

Nangin Geomgaek laughed quietly enough that it wouldn't pick up on stream.

The second he mentioned that the Mysterious Yone Master — Barcode — was going to stream, the chat scrolled so fast he couldn't even read it. He had no choice but to flip on Followers-Only Mode for one day, then spoke in a steady voice, soothing the crowd.

"The reason I went live this morning is because of Barcode."

"They said they'd go live in the morning, so my stream is basically the waiting room for Barcode's broadcast."

"The moment Barcode goes live, I'll host you all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over."

"Ah — that doesn't mean I'm quitting streaming entirely. I plan to go live again later."

And so Nangin Geomgaek waited for Barcode's stream alongside roughly six thousand viewers.

The stream-start alert arrived from Barcode's account, which he'd followed in advance. Barcode had gone live as promised. His role ended here.

"Everyone, Barcode just went live."

Nangin Geomgaek entered the host command exactly as he'd been taught. Roughly sixty-four hundred viewers transferred over to Barcode's stream. He ended his own broadcast immediately after and followed the audience he'd just sent, joining Barcode's stream himself.

Showdown's Akali was famous worldwide.

Even at Worlds — where world-class players gathered — Showdown's Akali had been so outstanding it was practically art. Overseas fanbases had formed just from watching him play the champion. That alone said everything about how well he handled her.

Which was why most of the audience assumed Barcode's Yone would get completely dismantled by Showdown's Akali.

Yes, Barcode had set a monstrous fifty-game win streak. But that had been during Worlds prep season, when most pros weren't even touching solo queue. Across that entire fifty-win run, Barcode's Yone had never once faced a pro from a top-tier league.

The achievements she'd racked up on the newly released champion Yone were undeniably impressive. Still, some people dismissed the Mysterious Yone Master's record as little more than raiding empty houses. No matter how much recognition she had, she couldn't be compared to Showdown — a player who'd proven himself at the absolute peak.

Even the matchup itself favored Akali over Yone. Yone's signature playstyle — stacking two Qs and using E to engage for a trade — was something Akali could casually neutralize with a single E.

Layer all those conditions together, and among the people watching Barcode's stream, not a single person expected her to win.

But then—

Showdown's Akali died first — and the entire mood of the stream flipped.

He's on my team, but this guy is actually insane…

I clicked my tongue at how vicious our Zac was, taking red buff and immediately stabbing a level-two gank. Most Zacs took W at level one for smoother clear speed. Ours begged bot for a hard leash, took Q at one, then grabbed E — the real core of Zac's kit — at two, and went hunting for an Akali who was actively trading.

Even Showdown clearly hadn't expected a Zac without W to gank at this timing. He got hit by Zac's E, then the follow-up Q combo linked into my airborne, and just like that he donated the kill.

What was he planning to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do if the gank failed…

Lucky it worked. If Zac hadn't landed that level-two gank? His jungle path would be completely exposed, and without W his clear speed would crawl. Time would drag, and the enemy jungler would naturally pull ahead in farm. A normal Zac, knowing how vulnerable he was to invades, would never take a risk like that.

Well. Thanks to Zac, I had a kill. The process had been nerve-wracking, but the result was good, so I couldn't really complain.

After the gank I shoved the wave and recalled. I was sitting on six hundred gold. Normally I'd buy two Daggers — the components for Guinsoo's Rageblade. But the opponent wasn't just anyone. This was Showdown's Akali. One moment of carelessness and the kill would go to him, not me.

To play the lane safer, I bought a Doran's Blade and a Refillable Potion. Having an extra Doran's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠early felt solid, but I didn't let my guard down.

Back on the wave, I caught a big crash. Meanwhile Akali pathing south vanished from vision.

I immediately dropped an MIA ping on the spot where Akali had disappeared. In Diamond you had to spam it about six times before your team noticed — but this was the so-called heavenly realm. The second a mid MIA ping went out, our Ashe and Braum, who'd been pressuring bot, backed off once and locked down the surrounding vision.

Not long after, Akali returned to mid, and I gave him a very warm welcome.

Yes, Akali could perfectly dismantle Yone's E-Q dash combo with a single flip. But if you engaged with E first, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠traded moderately, then E'd back out, the trade still worked to a degree. In practice, Akali and I came out of one exchange with roughly equal health. Without the Doran's Blade, that trade would have been a loss — and I couldn't help but admire how cleanly he traded.

"First time laning against you and you're really good…"

I muttered that and threw a few more trades. Every single time, Akali minimized the damage with absurd skill usage — from the tiniest movement adjustments to distance control that maximized his passive. Every trade left me short of breath, head spinning.

But I didn't stop trading. I walked the tightrope and aimed for the level-six timing, building a big wave while we exchanged blows.

Akali was level five, Flash down. I was one CS from six, Flash still up.

At the same time, our Zac was setting up a dive from the brush under the hill beside mid tower. The smell of a dive started to thicken. Akali sensed it with supernatural instinct and tried to back off — but the moment tower aggro snapped onto our minions, Zac leaped and cut off his retreat.

Zac successfully blocked the E escape. Then Akali dropped shroud and vanished. To make matters worse, Zac's Q whiffed completely.

I locked onto one edge of the circular smoke, then hit E, Flash, and ultimate in sequence. With Yone's signature cutting motion, Akali got yanked out of the shroud. Tower aggro was on Zac; I finished Akali fast and E'd back out of tower range.

Now Zac just had to get out clean.

But in that instant, a bandage flew in from the raptor camp and landed on Zac. Already taking tower shots, he dropped into passive. I thought he was about to die to a tearful Amumu — until:

A Malphite teleport ping landed right on top of Zac's last blob of jelly. The revived Zac leaped toward the opposite raptor camp and escaped successfully, while the teleported Malphite walked out as solid and reassuring as a bowl of hangover soup.

"Malphite…!"

This is what a team looks like. The thought hit me so hard I called his name in a voice thick with emotion before I could stop myself.

Not every Challenger top laner played with that kind of selflessness. Malphite's summoner name was JirisanGiantRock. That was pure-blood tank play — and it handed the team a massive advantage.

I glanced at chat while recalling. Most of it was praise for Malphite — but every time a compliment aimed at me slipped in between the lines, something strange stirred in my chest.

It's bothering me…

It got under my skin for no good reason, and something inside me kept craving more. Was this why streamers checked chat?

I got so distracted by the messages that I somehow arrived back at lane already. Realizing my focus on the game had slipped, I tore my eyes away from the chat.