A World Where Yawns Intimidate
“Yaaawn...”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
It was a yawn packed with all the world's laziness and exhaustion, my slack jaw feeling like it might pop off.
Last night, ten hours of graveyard shift at the convenience store.
Then, right after clocking out, I got dragged straight into a D-class dungeon.
No sleep meant my eyes were gritty, and my head felt foggy like it was shrouded in mist.
But then that yawn echoed down the dungeon passage—and something weird happened.
Shiiiing.
The shadows lurking in the darkness ahead twitched all at once and staggered back.
'Huh?'
I rubbed my eyes and stared blankly ahead.
Did something... just move?
Current Viewers: 14,352
Viewers are shocked by your nonchalant boredom.
'Unspoken pressure my ass. I was just really sleepy.'
I protested inwardly, but the air pressing down around me was already beyond my control.
The yawn had escaped, and the viewers' wild assumptions crushed the atmosphere even heavier.
“U-um... Minsu-nim?”
The party leader approached cautiously from beside me.
His face was already pale as a ghost.
“Did you just... dismantle the ambush ahead with a single yawn?”
“Pardon? No, I was just tired...”
“Ah...! Of course you'd be exhausted. Holding back your power like that must consume a ton of mental energy.”
The party leader nodded to himself and let out a short gasp of admiration.
“Disrupting the balance of hidden foes with one yawn...”
Now my yawn was a sonic attack.
I didn't even have the energy to explain, so I just nodded.
“Y-yes... sure, let's say that.”
“Ooh! As expected!”
The party members cheered at my affirmation and reformed their ranks.
Even with my single yawn, they were signaling each other: 'Sonic detection complete!' 'Area secure!'
All I'd done was trudge along fighting off sleep, but in their eyes, I looked like someone toying with the dungeon even while drowsy.
My neck was stiff, and my eyelids felt heavy enough to slam shut any second.
Midway through the dungeon, we reached a vast underground cavern.
A massive swarm of bats hanging from the ceiling spotted us and screeched as they took flight.
D-class monsters: Vampire Bats.
Hundreds charging in a flock—real headaches.
“Everyone, defensive formation! From above!”
The party leader raised his shield.
The members tensed and aimed their weapons.
But I was too sleepy to even lift my head.
Bats incoming or not, I just wanted to collapse on the floor right then.
“Uuuugh...”
I staggered with my gear bag slung over my shoulder.
My legs gave out, and I wobbled, tilting sideways.
Viewers are in awe of your Drunken Fist-like movements.
As I stumbled, the bats diving from the air fell into chaos.
They'd been plunging straight down, but their target suddenly veered unpredictably.
Psssh! Thud!
The tangled bats collided midair and rained down.
I flailed my arms to steady myself.
By sheer luck, one swing clipped the wing of a bat diving right at my head.
Wham!
“Kieeeek!”
The bat smacked into my hand and ricocheted into the wall.
I shook my stinging hand and grimaced.
“Ow, damn... why'd you crash into me?”
My irritated mutter.
And the lazy swat of my hand.
The remaining swarm freaked out and fled to the ceiling.
Hundreds of vampire bats, scattered by a single human's gesture.
Viewers' cheers echo off the dungeon ceiling.
Current Viewers: Breached 15,000
“M-Minsu-nim...”
The party leader stared at me in a daze.
“Did you just read their flight paths, strike a key one, and collapse the entire swarm?”
“...Pardon?”
“Incredible! At that level, you're juggling the whole battlefield like it's on your palm!”
No, I just tripped.
But I was too worn out now.
Fine, believe whatever you want.
“Let's... hurry up and finish. I really need to sleep.”
I said it with utter sincerity.
Yet the party took even that as “the leader's decisive order for swift, precise execution,” and dove into the remnants with renewed fervor.
I never knew my honest plea could sound like such a polished tactical command.
The dungeon cleared faster than expected.
Party members swarmed me—some thanking me, others asking for my contact.
I mumbled excuses and bolted for the exit, squeezing onto the subway like I was fleeing.
Only after flopping onto a platform bench did I finally catch my breath.
On the way home.
Dozing off on the subway seat, I checked my smartphone.
Ding.
“Huh?”
I rubbed my eyes and double-checked the screen.
My balance had gone up.
Today's pay hadn't come in yet?
'Viewstream settlement again?'
I'd seen a few thousand-won deposits before.
Back then, I figured it was a glitch or misplaced event points.
But this amount was different.
'No way...'
I suddenly recalled the [Sponsorship] messages popping up mid-stream.
Those 100,000-won shouts—did some actually convert to cash?
“Nah, no way. Probably just game money.”
I shook my head.
No one tosses around 100k that casually in real life.
Plus, I didn't even remember linking a broadcast account properly.
Auto-deposits creeping in felt creepier.
Bank glitch or voice phishing, maybe.
'Gotta check at the bank later.'
I brushed it off and closed my eyes again.
But my mind stayed oddly clear, that 120,000 figure looping endlessly.
Yet in my account, real money from viewers was steadily piling up.
I shut the notification and pocketed my phone.
Still, that 120k number danced before my eyes.
The next day.
Hunter Management Bureau headquarters, analysis room.
“Team leader, take a look at this.”
A young analyst urgently beckoned the team leader to the monitor.
“What? Another data glitch?”
The team leader ambled over, sipping coffee with clear annoyance.
“No glitch. These readings are impossible numerically, but they're real measurements.”
“Zero combats but 100% clear rate?”
The team leader scowled.
Made sense for a porter to skip fights, but every party member emerging unscratched? Impossible.
Especially recent D-class dungeons—tough ones.
“And it gets weirder.”
The analyst played another video.
Dungeon entrance CCTV from yesterday.
Kang Minsu stops—and the charging armored boars freeze and prostrate en masse.
“This... manipulated?”
“Raw footage. Mana wave analysis shows abnormal pressure waves around Hunter Kang Minsu. Doesn't fit standard ranking charts.”
“He's F-class.”
“Exactly. Yet F-class presence spikes party survival and monster evasion rates. Seamlessly.”
The team leader stared piercingly at the monitor's Kang Minsud.
A sleepy, yawning, stumbling young man who looked utterly ordinary.
But the data screamed he was no mere porter.
“Gauge malfunction, maybe. Or... a monster hiding its power.”
The team leader rubbed his chin gravely.
“Report to the director. Summon this Kang Minsu for re-measurement.”
“Pardon?”
“Schedule a rank re-evaluation. We need to see what lurks under that F-class shell with our own eyes.”
The team leader's eyes sharpened.
The Hunter Management Bureau's gaze had finally turned toward Kang Minsu.