A Modest Broadcast

The content was a smash hit. It had claimed the number-one spot on Shindaeryuk TV's weekly ranking of the most talked-about broadcasts, and it didn't stop there.

Lac and Mia offered to take the footage, so I handed it over, and both of them put it up on YouTube. They were YouTubers in their own right, with a hundred and twenty thousand subscribers and a hundred and fifty thousand. When I checked, both videos had already cleared five hundred thousand views, and the numbers were still climbing — which explained why my recent streams had picked up more than a hundred average viewers.

These days the broadcast could pull six or seven hundred people even with nothing special on the slate. For a result scraped together in less than two months, it was astonishing.

The Water Balloons pop pretty generously, too, and the fan club's grown a lot.

We'd broken four thousand. It felt like only yesterday I was limping along at fifteen hundred. A true sea change — mulberry fields turned to open ocean.

The points I earned over three days come to 220. And on top of that, an ability I never saw coming.

I still remember singing Han Aeseul's Nonstop 4 OST, and the very moment the Helper praised me for doing a truly splendid job. A new ability was born. In the song-related category, beside the Vocalization 2 and Sense of Rhythm 3 I already had, Expressiveness 2 appeared.

Getting something like that for free left me in a wonderful mood.

Things blew up bigger than I expected, so I do feel a little sorry toward Lac...

After I ended the broadcast that day, the three of us talked it over by way of an afterparty, and I apologized first. I hadn't meant to let it get this big, but far more people had paid attention than I'd imagined, and in a sense it was content that had publicly turned Lac into a fool.

Fortunately, he didn't seem particularly hurt. If anything, it felt like his soul had stepped halfway out of his body. I apologized and we talked about this and that, but his reactions stayed lukewarm, and I worried a little. The next day, though, when we gathered again for Legend of League team practice, he was back to the usual Lac, and I could finally relax.

"Lots of letters again today."

It was the same as the Miracle joint broadcast. I'd stirred up so much buzz that other BJs were firing off collab requests, desperate to stick a straw in however they could. I sent apology replies one by one and wondered what to do today.

For once, there was no Legend of League team practice. Nothing prepared, nothing decided — a loose, open feeling. Maybe that was why I wanted a broadcast I could run with a light heart, and no burden at all.

"No. I just turned it on early because I missed you."

Even though I'd gone live about two hours earlier than usual, Hani'sUncleFan showed up almost at once, strapped on the manager ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠armband, and started keeping the chat in line. Watching that, a hint surfaced for how to run today's broadcast.

On Shindaeryuk TV, viewers who joined a fan club were sorted into ranks. The moment you joined, you became a regular member. Among those regular members, the top twenty who had donated the most Water Balloons were made special members, and of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those, first and second — the President and the Vice President — received a glittering gold star and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silver star beside their nicknames, the better to flaunt their presence. As a bonus, entering the broadcast triggered a sound effect while the mark sparkled for everyone to see.

It was a structure built to poke at competitiveness, one of the most primal human feelings. Beside a special member sat only a plain bronze star; a regular member got a single tiny heart. For anyone eager to show off in front of a BJ they liked, the gap was its own kind of ache, and now and then someone would burn through even their living expenses, donating Water Balloons they couldn't afford. Most of those people were sunk in female cam broadcasts that fished for balloons out in the open. There had even been cases of company funds embezzled just to send Water Balloons — scandals big enough to become a social issue.

Which was why, from my earliest days on air, I had made a plea that was more than a request: please don't donate amounts that will strain you. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I never offered some special reaction reserved only for the viewers who gave the most, either. Maybe because of that, no Water Balloon trouble had ever erupted on my broadcast. I wasn't a god, so I couldn't know every viewer's finances down to the last coin — but I was making an effort. That much was true.

"Today I thought we'd keep it light and take some time to get to know the special members who've supported this broadcast so much. Honestly, I've been pretty careless about that side of things... Special members, that stung a little, didn't it?"

Special members are attention-seekers at heart. They like the BJ, and they fire Water Balloons because they want to be known a little better. Until now I'd looked past those feelings, worried about the sense of deprivation ordinary viewers would feel — but if I turned it into content, that was a different story.

"First up, our President! You barely chat, but you always watch so diligently — and when it's a cam stream, you stay right to the very end. RunHani's station! I'll go take a look right now."

As it happened, the President was already connected. I clicked the ID and jumped straight to the station.

"Oh... as expected of the President. This is honestly moving."

The moment I landed, the photo from my very first cam broadcast, pinned to the main page, caught my eye. A little embarrassing, but it was a picture that had already spread as far as a picture can spread. I passed the main screen and clicked the board.

"Hmm. Nothing much here. Doesn't look like you watch a lot of Shindaeryuk TV?"

I moved past the board and opened the profile. The name was set to private.

"Wow, President, you must be in great shape. Do you work out, by any chance?"

"No, knock it off with the bad-faith takes. I've talked about Water Balloons since the very beginning — what kind of baiting would I even be doing..."

"Huh? Ah... you really only needed to answer in chat. Anyway, thank you so much for the five hundred Water Balloons, President."

The balloons had popped in a direction I never intended, and for a moment I was at a loss for words. But I was a broadcaster with nearly two months under my belt. Without missing a beat, I called the next turn and stepped into the station of the Vice President, GangnamOctopus.

"Come to think of it, both the President and the Vice President are online today, of all days. I'll take a quick look!"

GangnamOctopus's station was dull. Nothing was pinned to the main page, so the default blank white screen greeted me, and the board held only a few sketchy ad-bait posts.

Ugh, this isn't any fun. Should I have done a little prep beforehand?

I was regretting it when, as if the god of broadcasting had descended, I spotted a guestbook crammed with traces — nothing like the deserted board.

"Huh? What's this? It says, 'Octopus oppa, thanks for coming today. Come hang out again next time.'"

The viewers' uproar delighted me, and I rode the wave, pitching my voice into something playful.

"No, Vice President — last time I did a cam stream, you said you loved me. Have you been going around saying that to other women BJs, too?"

"Ah — no, please don't shoot Water Balloons every time you answer. Just type in chat and I'll check it myself. This makes it look like I'm fishing."

"I'm really not! Moving on."

Unfortunately, the special members in third, fourth, and fifth weren't online — maybe because I'd started earlier than usual. So I entered the station of sixth place, LoliIsTruth.

"...Uh. This is. Well. Hmm."

The main screen was downright resplendent. Small, cute girl characters of uncertain origin were all looking this way, and the viewers were howling. Worried that LoliIsTruth might actually get hurt, I said, carefully, "Um... I'm not really sure, but the characters are really cute."

"Huh? But... the characters you like and I seem pretty different. Is there a reason you like my broadcast?"

"P-pardon?"

"Uh... ah, well... understood. I'll give it a try sometime."

Yeah, no. This wouldn't do. It felt like I'd peered into a deep abyss I was never meant to look into. I answered in a flash and went looking for the next special member.

Skipping seventh, eighth, and ninth, I clicked the station of tenth place — GoodHaniBadHani, holder of the longest watch-time record on my broadcast.

"Whoa! No way!"

I was genuinely startled. The background on the main screen was a single picture: a beautiful woman seated at a window, chin propped on her hand, gazing out at the far-off view.

It was me.