Game Academy
As the pile of coins climbed past one hundred thousand in the blink of an eye, boosted by a flood of mission rewards and extra sponsorships, it was no longer all that surprising. He had expected this much, after all.
"Thank you. I really couldn’t have made it this far without your support."
He spoke calmly and closed his eyes for a moment. He had been pushing himself to the limit every round, and with the added strain of working longer than usual, a warm heaviness was beginning to settle over him, dragging sleep at the edges of his mind.
For a streamer who had just received that many coins, his reaction probably looked disappointingly bland.
- The Godfather squeezed his eyes shut. This is a sign of deep satisfaction.
- Gotta go top up my coins lol.
- Bring me the booze and the doghouse, now!!
- Is that all the level you lot have...? This is so boring I want to quit.
- First time making an overseas payment, so I’m not used to it. Please wait a moment.
No one complained that his reaction was lacking.
Most streamers were expected to perform the so-called clown routine without batting an eye, but there were exceptions. Active pro players at the peak of their careers were one of them.
They would turn on streams now and then for team promotion or image management, but they didn’t bother with silly voices or exaggerated banter just to entertain viewers. They won fans over with pure skill, and that was enough.
For them, a simple "thank you" was all any donation really needed. If a huge amount came in, even a single thumbs-up could send viewers into a frenzy.
['Ratopia' donated 2,500 coins.]
['OlmartCEO' donated 1,500 coins.]
['LotteryFourthPlaceLifeAchievement' donated 2,000 coins.]
So no one demanded some special reaction just because they were tossing him donations. By now, Yeongho had already shown a level of skill beyond even active pro gamers, and he had achieved a record that might never be broken.
To the viewers who had followed him live, simply standing there quietly made him seem impressive and heavy with presence. No one had the nerve to throw around a few tens of thousands of won and demand he do tricks like some pet monkey.
The chat scrolled on and on.
Yeongho let out a faint smile and enjoyed the praise and cheers that kept pouring in for a while longer.
* * *
"The edited videos will be uploaded here, like this. I created the channel as SJ DAD, using your name as-is, hyung-nim."
"Oh. Nice."
Listening to the manager’s explanation while watching the footage he showed him, Yeongho smiled with clear satisfaction.
The YouTube channel, SJ DAD.
It was a space where the raw videos recorded while Yeongho streamed on Ppajijik could be edited and uploaded separately.
Of course, there were plenty of people who watched live game streams in real time.
But if you counted the viewers who preferred to search for a video and watch it whenever they felt like it, the difference was so large the numbers barely even compared.
Ppajijik, a real-time streaming platform, and YouTube, a video-sharing platform, were built around completely different habits from the start.
Sure, Ppajijik also let people search for replay videos, and YouTube could technically host live streams too.
But because the specialties were split, there was still a huge difference in user pools.
If you wanted to maximize profit as a professional broadcaster, the trend was obvious: not only stream live on your home platform, but also upload edited videos to YouTube and chase both targets at once.
"Honestly, I’m not that great at editing myself. Up until now I’ve been handling things roughly on my own for Pinam, but with hyung-nim added on top, I think we need a proper specialist, so I’ve been looking into outsourcing."
"It looks great already."
Pinam’s friend, who was helping out as both editor and manager, looked like he had his own share of trouble now that he had to cover two people instead of one. It was understandable.
Still, to Yeongho, nothing about the edited videos looked strange or problematic.
At most, he just felt a little embarrassed seeing himself through someone else’s eyes.
Of course, since he didn’t exactly spend his free time watching YouTube, his standards might not have been all that sharp to begin with.
"When a real expert gets their hands on it, it makes a difference. Skilled editors are important people who can decide whether content succeeds or fails. A live stream is over as long as the streamer is good, but with YouTube videos, editing quality accounts for half the appeal."
"Ah... I see. I still don’t know much about it, so I’ll trust you to handle it properly."
"Of course! I’ll absolutely bring in someone talented and set everything up with killer editing!"
The channel had only just been created, and aside from the page with the raw broadcast videos, there were only two edited uploads, each about twenty or thirty minutes long.
Maybe that was why the subscriber count was still a humble few dozen.
As Yeongho was thinking he should mention it on stream and promote it later, Pinam came striding over and called out to him.
"Ah, hyung-nim! I asked around with some people I know, and this place has the best reviews, and it’s not too far from your house—"
From the way he started talking, it was about the game academy they had discussed before.
A specialized training school for players, supported by a pro team.
Apparently it wasn’t far from his house, either.
And it didn’t sound like one of those fake academies some random jokers had thrown together; it seemed to be a real academy run with an actual curriculum.
I should take Jaemin there once.
His son definitely didn’t seem talentless, but he still hadn’t really been exposed to Legend of War in earnest, so there was nothing Yeongho could properly tell him yet.
He had already felt bad, worried he might have dented the boy’s confidence for no reason. If Pinam had helped him learn that a place like this existed, then that was fortunate.
It would be best to leave questions of talent to a professional instructor and simply support him as a father.
"Thanks. I keep getting help from you, Pinam."
"Ah, come on, what are you talking about? But from what I heard, their training is solid, though the place is apparently a little strict compared to others."
"Is that so?"
"They only select kids with the makings of real pro players, so if someone falls behind even a little, they tell them to quit right away. It’s not some business driven purely by money."
"Hmm. But if the goal is really to go pro, isn’t that exactly how it should be?"
"True. But from a student or parent’s perspective, it could feel pretty harsh, so I thought I should tell you in advance."
Yeongho could see what he meant.
Still, if it was a job where real talent mattered that much, then harsh as it was, that might be the right way to do it.
Honestly, it made the academy sound more trustworthy than a place that would keep feeding people false hope while milking them for tuition.
If Jaemin were judged to be someone who wouldn’t make it as a pro, then as disappointing as it would be, the right thing would be to soothe him carefully and help guide him toward another path.
That, surely, was the role of a parent.
Turning those thoughts over in his head, Yeongho memorized every detail Pinam had told him about the academy.
* * *
"Jaemin. Tomorrow after school, let’s go somewhere together for a bit, just you and me."
"Huh? Where to...?"
When Yeongho got home and called for his son, Jaemin flinched in surprise and faltered, his eyes darting around nervously.
He had always been a little cautious around his father, even for his age.
But after the last incident, every time they faced each other he seemed especially withdrawn, which only made the already awkward distance between them feel even wider.
"There’s an e-sports academy nearby. I thought you could go take a test there, and maybe register if it seems necessary."
"Oh!?"
At Yeongho’s words, Jaemin looked up sharply, the uncertainty in his gaze snapping into focus.
"A game academy...? But I’m already... I mean, pro gamer stuff..."
Yet after that brief burst of shock, he lowered his head again, shrinking back in on himself.
Watching him, Yeongho scratched his head, let out a short sigh, and spoke again.
"Didn’t you say you wanted to become a pro gamer?"
"Well... as you saw last time, I don’t really seem to have much talent..."
"Jaemin. Whatever path you choose, you’re almost guaranteed to run into people with outstanding talent who are ahead of you. Are you planning to give up every time that happens?"
"...No, but."
"Your dad somehow ended up playing games, and weirdly enough, I’m doing better than other people at them. But I still don’t know enough about VR games to judge someone else’s talent."
"......"
"So if we really want to find out properly, let’s have a professional evaluate you once. If, after that, you still want to give up, then I won’t say anything about it."
As he listened to the words that followed, Jaemin slowly lifted his head and met Yeongho’s eyes.
"Before you get scared and give up, shouldn’t you at least try what you can? That way, you won’t leave any regrets behind."
"...Is that okay? Even going to the academy for a little while must cost a lot."
"You little—"
His older sister Seonhui was at least attending one academy already, but Jaemin still hadn’t been able to enroll in one.
Up until now, they simply hadn’t had the financial breathing room to send both children.
Maybe that was why, when he saw his son worrying about money, Yeongho’s face darkened with bitterness before he quickly smoothed his expression again.
"You said you watched Dad’s stream, right? You know it’s doing really well, don’t you?"
"I... do? But you still haven’t even gotten your payout yet."
That was true enough.
Still, thankfully, this world had credit cards, and the actual money wasn’t withdrawn until the following month rather than the month of payment itself.
"You don’t trust your dad? Come on, what kind of father do you take me for, worrying I can’t even send you to one little academy! And when I said it before, the situation was a little... different, but from where I’m standing, Jaemin, I don’t think you’re untalented."
"...Then I’ll, uh. I’ll give it a try."
At last, a spark of life returned to Jaemin’s face.
Come to think of it, how many aspiring pro gamers were there who hadn’t at least looked into an e-sports academy?
Making money mattered, yes, but knowing how to spend it mattered just as much.
Once the payout came in, academy tuition would be more than manageable, so he found himself hoping his son would regain his confidence and do his best for the sake of his own dream.
Watching Jaemin’s face light up with anticipation, Yeongho’s own lips naturally curved into a smile.
And then, the next day.
As a special broadcast to celebrate reaching Predator, he held a live audience match in the basic battlefield mode during the daytime stream.
Then, using the free time before his evening broadcast, he headed out with his son to the e-sports academy Pinam had introduced.
When he told the counter staff he wanted a consultation, they guided him to a counseling room, and before long a man walked in.
"Hello. I’m Kim Siho, one of the instructors for the pro debut class."
"Ah! Hello."
The man looked like someone who might become his son’s teacher, so Yeongho bowed to him politely and with great respect.
"Oh? Taniutus? Right?"
After the brief introduction, Jaemin seemed to recognize the instructor and spoke up.
"Oh~ so there’s still a student who recognizes me."
"You played top lane for DX, didn’t you? I’m a top laner too, so of course I know you."
"Exactly. Top is where men belong. You’ve got a good eye, kid. Hahaha!"
He must have been a retired pro player, and thanks to Jaemin recognizing him, the mood grew fairly warm.
The consultation itself wasn’t very long.
Talent as a gamer wasn’t something you could simply measure with a machine and have spit out a number.
Apparently, even just the aptitude test for the debut class required about two weeks of observation.
"If you proceed like that, the cost will come out to roughly this much..."
As the instructor explained while opening a catalog booklet about the size of an A4 sheet, Yeongho studied the column with the price written in it.
Then his smile froze in place.
Th-this price... is this right?
He knew academy fees for kids usually ran into the hundreds of thousands of won.
But this was his first time dealing with a game academy, so he hadn’t known what to expect, and the price listed was enough to rival any respectable all-purpose academy.
For a two-week course, it was close to one million won.
And if he later got into the official debut group, the classes would be divided by track.
If he took the most high-quality intensive course, he’d be looking at nearly two million won a month.
Of course, that was only the first month’s fee, and the price would be discounted quite a bit if he kept taking classes.
Even so, it was not the kind of amount anyone could call trivial.
That’s basically an office worker’s monthly salary...
Still, once the payout came in, it wasn’t an impossible sum.
The money he had earned from streaming so far already exceeded ten million won in pure profit alone.
Since he was in a position where he could afford the expense, it didn’t feel wasteful if he thought of it as an investment in his child’s future.
It was only that the financial instincts he had built over the years kept shouting in one corner of his mind that this was awfully expensive for academy tuition.
At any rate, he had told his son to rely on his father, and now that they had come this far, he couldn’t exactly change his tune.
If my wife finds out, she might faint.
Thinking that to himself, Yeongho slowly reached into his wallet with trembling fingers and took out his card.
---