Viewer Count: 10,241

“I’m home…”

The rundown studio apartment was empty, as always.

The moment I shut the front door, I collapsed onto the floor.

I hadn’t even taken off my shoes. Leaning against the wall, I gasped for breath.

My whole body felt like it weighed a ton. Forget hidden boss or whatever—it was just terrifying.

I’d only gone into two E-class dungeons, and it felt like twenty years had been shaved off my lifespan.

“Haa…”

I barely managed to kick off my shoes and crawl into the room. In one corner sat my tiny fridge.

On top of it, my mother’s hospital bill stared back at me. Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.

The red ink stabbed at my chest.

‘But at least today’s pay was generous…’

I dropped the crumpled bundle of 50,000-won bills the party leader had shoved into my hand onto the floor.

500,000 won.

Cheap for the price of my life, but enough to put out the immediate fire.

But my eyes weren’t on the money. They were fixed on the blue window still floating in midair.

“……Insane.”

I rubbed my eyes.

Was that an extra zero? I traced each digit with my finger.

One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand.

Ten thousand?

In just the thirty-minute bus ride home, viewers had broken ten thousand?

The chat scrolled faster than it had in the dungeon—too fast to even read.

Ten thousand gazes.

And the pressure they created.

“Eek!”

A cockroach hiding in the corner suddenly bolted out, flipped over, and thrashed its legs.

Like it had been hit by industrial-strength bug spray, it twitched and passed out.

I stared blankly at it. I hadn’t done that.

It was these ten thousand viewers in front of my eyes—their unshakeable belief that I was the ‘strongest,’ their expectations manifesting as raw physical force. A sticky pressure filled the room.

“……What the hell is happening to me?”

I clutched my head.

At this rate, even glancing at a stray dog on the street would make it foam at the mouth and drop.

“First… I need a shower. Shower and some food.”

I chose escapism. Trying to logically unpack this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

The window wouldn’t go away anyway. These ten thousand viewers were spectators here to gawk at my every move.

‘Fine, watch if you want. What’s so special about me showering?’

I stripped down to my underwear, shedding my clothes like a snake’s skin.

The chat exploded again.

“……”

I was too dumbfounded to even get mad.

Compressed muscles?

It’s just convenience store triangle kimbap leaving me skin and bones, you lunatics!

I didn’t bother responding and headed to the bathroom.

I rinsed off with cold water and stepped out, hunger hitting me hard.

After all that in the dungeon, of course I was starving.

I rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out my last pack of ramen.

I filled a pot with water and lit the gas stove.

Bubble bubble. The boiling sound filled the silent room.

Boiling a single pack of ramen—the utterly mundane, pathetic routine of a broke singleton. I muttered blankly at the pot.

“Haa… today was really scary…”

I meant it. Bones nearly shattering, flesh almost torn off.

I’d survived purely by luck. I could drop dead tomorrow and no one would bat an eye.

But the moment that mutter hit the chat, a storm erupted.

“That’s not it!”

I grabbed my chopsticks and yelled at the air.

I was almost scared enough to piss myself! Why twist plain fear into whatever they want?!

But my shout got buried under “lololol perfect concept” chats.

I gave up and slurped the ramen straight from the pot like soup.

No kimchi, which sucked, but now wasn’t the time to care.

Just fuel for survival.

Even me eating ramen became prime interpretation fodder for them.

“……Cough!”

I choked on the broth while chugging it.

Swordsmanship basics? In ramen chopsticks?

These idiots’ brains are definitely broken.

I coughed, tears welling up.

The spicy broth burned my windpipe like hell.

‘Please… just leave me alone…’

I set the ramen bowl on the floor and covered my face with both hands.

These maniacs would read meaning into me just breathing.

Ten thousand viewers. The sheer weight crushed me.

This wasn’t a joke. Once it spreads, it’s over.

If my name becomes a meme, I’m done for.

And right now, in the ‘Hunter Gallery,’ nonsense about me was gaining traction with disturbingly plausible faces.

“Ah…”

I let out a sigh.

Now even my name was out.

‘BJKangMinsu’ was right there in the stream title, so it was only a matter of time, but hitting trending this fast?

With shaking hands, I opened my phone and checked the community.

One comment creeped me out the most.

Likes exploded under that single line. It jumped with every refresh.

Someone posted a meme synthesizing my glare. Another unfolded a map predicting my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠next dungeon.

This was no joke. My daily life was turning into their playground.

In the midst of it, texts from unknown numbers piled up. ‘Taking disciples?’

‘When’s the next stream?’

All insane.

I flipped my phone face-down. Vibrations didn’t stop.

One ad text was almost a relief amid strangers acting like they knew me.

The room felt the same, but it was like strangers filled everything outside the door. I double-checked the lock.

Peeked at the window. Was someone coming?

Every little noise made my ears perk up.

The chat was already a pilgrimage site.

“You crazy bastards…”

I wanted to hurl my phone, but a cracked screen meant 100k won repair.

I’m a poor F-class. Gotta endure.

I pulled the blanket over me and lay on the bed.

Ten thousand viewers chattering.

The ‘SSS-class Kang Minsu’ fantasy from the community.

It all felt too heavy, too overwhelming.

I just wanted to quietly earn money for Mom’s bills without drawing eyes.

“Tomorrow… convenience store shift.”

Better skip hunting for a while.

Dungeon in this spotlight? Either my true colors get exposed and I’m a laughingstock, or monsters rip me apart. Pick one.

I curled up under the blanket.

The blue window pierced through, still in my view.

Crazy bastards.

Sleep fled completely.

I closed my weary eyes, using their brainrot as a lullaby.

Hoping when I woke tomorrow morning, this was all a dream.

But even with eyes shut, the blue glow lingered.

My fingertips under the pillow stayed cold for ages.

No alerts, yet my ears itched endlessly.

The night stretched on.

Endlessly.