Provocation
The word provocation is, at its root, used in a bad sense. The Chinese characters it is written with meant as much from the very start. In modern entertainment, though, the provocation people usually mean carries a wider range of meanings. More often than not it is something done to catch the eye, stir up a fuss, and lift the popularity of a show or a match.
I had understood this latest business in that spirit. Mia saw it very differently.
"Unnie, you only say that because you don't know what went on between me and that Yumi bitch. She's been like this forever."
"R-really?"
In truth, I wasn't entirely in the dark. I had been watching personal broadcasts long enough — how could I fail to know a story this famous?
The incident was about a year ago. There was a well-known BJ who went by StrikerCheolsu, one of the very top of the top, holding an average of five or six thousand viewers. He had an ordinary girlfriend he was even living with, kept entirely secret from the stream. Had they only met in quiet, there would have been no problem. But they say a tail grown too long gets stepped on. A petty lovers' quarrel between the two blew up into a full-blown exposé, and the situation snowballed. The girlfriend, her eyes gone white with rage, turned the BJ's phone inside out and dumped every last private detail onto the internet as it was.
Among that information were messenger logs and conversations he had exchanged with BJs he was close to — and that is where the bad blood between Yumi and Mia began.
The truth is, the two of them had not been on good terms even before then. A single year between their ages, and debuts at roughly the same time. Whether they meant to or not, viewers were forever comparing them; they had to compete, and they had to grind their teeth over rumors. After about a year of that, by the time both had more or less found their footing on Shindaeryuk TV, the paths of their broadcasts had grown quite different. Mia, who aside from Lac and Clemoomoo had next to no friendships with other BJs, streamed alone. Yumi, by contrast, appeared as a guest on countless broadcasts, cultivated her connections, and on the strength of that network pulled ahead of Mia.
Into that situation dropped the StrikerCheolsu incident.
Yumi had kept up a considerable friendship with that BJ as well, and the leaked contents of his phone included his chats with her. A large share of them were her cursing out other BJs and talking behind their backs — and Mia accounted for about twenty percent of it. Naturally the whole thing became a serious issue, and Yumi apologized. She ran three official apology broadcasts, shut down the YouTube channel she had been operating, and announced that she would lie low for the time being.
Then, some three or four months later, once the incident had faded to a degree from everyone's minds, she used her connections to appear on a major-agency BJ's broadcast and ran yet another round of reputation laundering. Squeeze out a few tears on the live show, certify that she had been through so much she had lost a great deal of weight, and Yumi's fans, together with the major BJ's fans borrowed through those connections, would swarm in as a pack to coo there, there and hand her a pardon.
Truly absurd. The people actually involved, Mia among them, were sitting there doing nothing, and viewers had the nerve to step forward and forgive her however they pleased.
Anyway, that was how Yumi made her comeback. For a while she streamed meekly, watching her step, and once enough time had passed she returned to her original style — the kind that latches onto famous BJs wherever she can and sucks them dry. After that incident, Mia said, she had no interest at all and no wish to get tangled up, so she did not so much as mention Yumi.
And then, some trick of fate? In this tournament, Yumi had joined as the jungler of Alt+F4, the team slotted in last.
"You know what kind of rumors that bitch has been spreading lately? She says I was actually the rude one first, that I cursed her out, so she only did it back. That there was no evidence back then, so she apologized and took the whole blame on herself."
"So she has evidence now?"
"No! That's what makes me even madder. That's her style. Call her out because you heard a rumor, and she'll slip out of it all smooth, saying nothing of the sort ever happened. Then she'll start bawling about how you still haven't let it go and play the poor little victim. She's been like that forever."
Through the phone I could hear Mia grinding her teeth. She sounded furious. I pushed bedtime back and soothed her as hard as I could, and at last, with a deep sigh, she came to the point.
"On yesterday's broadcast, when she was going over last week's practice-game results, she deliberately barely mentioned our team at all. The second a viewer pointed it out, she flat-out said the support was the weak point?"
"Ah, someone in my chat told me earlier, so I watched it. She was saying it like a joke, though."
"Unnie! You're not even a man — how are you this dense? She's needling us on purpose. It's a backhanded dig, while she pretends it's a joke."
"Huh? Ah... you think so?"
Was this that so-called girl-speak, the kind only women were supposed to understand? I felt genuinely wronged. Still, I did what I could to let even a little of Mia's anger cool.
"You're not mad, Unnie? She wasn't only talking about me. In that game she was sticking her nose in the air, saying she and you were neck and neck. I seriously cannot believe the nerve..."
"Eh, well. That can happen."
Yumi was a Gold-rank jungler. Gold 3, at that — a level of skill it was embarrassing even to describe as close to Platinum. That particular game was one where Lac had been completely shut down by Alt+F4 on a personal matchup, so I had spent it covering bot and never got to make a real impact. The next game, I had landed a gank on mid and one on top, pulled ahead in the fights over objectives, and put a clear jungle difference on display. She must have been the sort blessed with a convenient selective memory, one that kept only the games which had favored her.
"She framed it like a joke, but she also called our team the easiest sacrifice for a first win."
"Just ignore her. We'll win when it actually counts."
"I don't get it. Does she have no conscience?"
"..."
"I never once said I forgave her, so why does she shove her face in so shamelessly? And talk about me like nothing ever happened... I really cannot understand people like that."
"Yeah. I know. So don't stress yourself out and burn emotional energy over some weirdo like her."
"I know that, but..."
On stream Mia always came off childish, blunt, and lively, but every so often, late at night, she would call and show me this fragile side. It ached. Really — what was any of this even for? The Special Mission I had been ready to give up on. I caught myself thinking I ought to weigh it a little more seriously.
This tournament was a good opportunity. Across two days, an average of thirty to forty thousand viewers would pour into BlameTheSupport's broadcast, and while the matches were underway every single participating BJ would get a chance to be noticed. That was why I had boldly upgraded my looks ahead of my voice. It was the easiest way to plant a strong impression, and a favorable one, in viewers who did not know me.
That was the full extent of it — the expectations I brought into this tournament. The words were modest, of course, but the payoff would be sweet enough. Even at the low end my viewer count would climb by a hundred or two hundred, and for a few days the flow of Water Balloons would feel it too. Beyond that, though, I had no thought of grinding or obsessing. I had already invested plenty of points, and I needed to be thinking about the next stage.
Hand them a Special Mission this garbage, and of course my motivation tanks.
You must not disparage the Goddess's grace.
But what had happened yesterday changed my mind. Or rather — maybe I should say I got a little heated. A Gold-scrub jungler dared to take me lightly?
Going to look up the replays of that person called Yumi after yesterday's call ended was rather unbecoming.
"What's unbecoming! I was trying to fact-check properly."
Hearing it secondhand from viewers was one thing. Seeing it myself, I got properly angry. I thought I understood what Mia had meant. Her mouth called it a joke and her lips were smiling, but her eyes were not — a sneer, a gaze that looks down on people. I knew that look well enough.
The crazy-dog senior from the army. Manager Park with his M-shaped bald spot. And that bitch Park Boram, who'd worked the shift before mine at the convenience store.
People who, at bottom, thought nothing of wounding someone else.
"...I don't want to get emotional like this."
Still, I wanted to land one clean blow. The method was simple. Lump the Alt+F4 team in with Yumi and smash the lot of them. And we advance to the finals.
In truth, our record against Alt+F4 stood at one-to-one. Focus, make no mistakes, and even as we were they were a team we had a real shot at beating.
But that damned personal matchup. He's perfectly fine against other teams, and yet Lac just has to slip up against them.
When Lac wavered, Mia — built specifically to prop up the marksman — crumbled right along with him. Then the game was beyond saving. I had to find the opening on the top side of the map.
Both teams' top laners are Gold versus Gold. Mid is nearly even, too... So in the end I have to blow the gap wide open in the jungle. Wide enough that even a mistake on bot won't matter.
In the end, the answer was points. How many I could scrape together in the week we had left, and how far I could push my in-game ability with them.
It is a rare Special Mission, so please do give it your all.
"...Every single time, I swear I want to punch something."
A System Helper, if nothing else, who knew exactly how to raise my combat power.