Chapter 7

The VR Broadcasting Gallery.

Sometimes mistaken for a VTuber gallery, this place was strictly for watching broadcasters who stream using VR.

What they mainly watched were cam broadcasts. They didn’t even watch VTubers in the first place.

Of course, with VR games becoming mainstream, avatars became widely popular. Because of this, the VR Broadcasting Gallery’s aversion to VTubers wasn’t as severe as before…

But still, if they didn’t like it, they didn’t like it.

Avatars, VTubers, they just didn’t want to watch broadcasts that didn’t give them dopamine.

That’s exactly what the VR Broadcasting Gallery was.

Talent is always rare.

There were many broadcasters, but the ones featured in the VR Broadcasting Gallery were always similar.

It was that hard to find someone entertaining. No matter how much they cursed, they always came back to watch that person.

But people can’t always maintain the same form.

Even GOAT-tier athletes have times when their performance isn’t great.

Broadcasters were no different.

*“Why is Pusi so boring lately?”*

*“Can’t he just stop playing Eternal World?”*

*“It’s so hard to watch whenever he plays that.”*

*“-1 death and he immediately mutes and starts blaming others lol.”*

*“Anyone below Diamond should get slapped every time they blame others.”*

*“┗This idiot thinks losing is someone else’s fault lol.”*

Everyone had their own niche.

And their own game.

Even if it was the current world’s number one game, if it didn’t suit someone, it just didn’t suit them.

The gallery owner of VR Broadcasting Gallery, Ga Joon-sik, was one of those people.

A person who, due to pure talent issues, didn’t suit competitive games. Yet, he still loved competitive games.

So, even though Ga Joon-sik knew the viewers disliked it, he consistently brought *Eternal World* as his streaming content.

Rozon uploaded a video right during the peak of *Eternal World*, when the VR Broadcasting Gallery users were criticizing it.

As mentioned earlier, the people featured in the VR Broadcasting Gallery were always similar, but it wasn’t always the same people.

The gallery periodically discovered broadcasters who they flocked to for fun and then promptly forgot about. It wasn’t intentional, but it naturally happened that way.

The reasons for being chosen as this “toy” were varied. In other words, there were no set criteria.

However, there was a commonality.

It had to look fun. Not that the broadcaster was fun, but if the situation looked entertaining, the VR Broadcasting Gallery users would go to watch the broadcast.

A man who had been in the VR Broadcasting Gallery for a year went to watch Han Yoorim’s broadcast for exactly that reason.

It wasn’t some incredibly entertaining situation, but since there was nothing else to watch lately, he turned on the stream just to kill time for the day.

And he was shocked.

Not only did Han Yoorim pick Isahyang, as if mocking her sniped opponent, but her gaming skills were far beyond what he had imagined.

*“Is that even possible?”*

The man was amazed as he watched Han Yoorim, at level 1, take down a tier 4 objective.

The man’s *Eternal World* tier was Diamond 3.

While it was a tier that got flak from Master-tier players and above, Diamond was still considered high rank.

He knew the basic mechanics of the game.

To take down a tier 4 objective, you usually needed to reach level 3.

The reason was the ranged auto-attacks from the tier 4 objective’s boss mob.

*Eternal World*’s auto-attacks weren’t targeted. This was different from typical AOS games.

But in practice, they were targeted. It was similar to how in FPS games, if your aim was accurate, the opponent couldn’t dodge the bullets.

Of course, FPS games had movement too… but that was just to confuse the opponent’s aim tracking. If the opponent wasn’t fooled, the movement meant nothing.

*Eternal World* was similar.

If your aim was accurate, the auto-attacks usually hit.

Well, it wasn’t impossible to dodge. Unlike typical FPS games, *Eternal World* had diverse movement options. In theory, you could dodge auto-attacks.

And in reality, you could theoretically dodge a bullet fired right in front of you.

From what the man knew, the difficulty of those two things was about the same.

Auto-attacks were hard to dodge. The tier 4 objective’s boss mob fired ranged auto-attacks. That’s why you needed to level up to take it down.

This three-step logic established the standard strategy of reaching level 3 before taking down a tier 4 objective.

But Han Yoorim broke that standard.

The man remembered how many times Han Yoorim dodged the boss mob’s auto-attacks.

She dodged 3 out of 5 attacks, and her health was still hanging by a thread.

If she had been hit even one more time, she would’ve been executed by the objective.

This wasn’t something you could just copy if you wanted to.

Dodging melee neutral mobs while also dodging ranged auto-attacks?

He doubted even pros could do that.

*“Well, pros can’t use this strategy anyway. The early-game design is too obvious.”*

But that didn’t diminish his amazement.

Han Yoorim, who had grown steadily, flew around in the ensuing 4v4 skirmish.

Using Isahyang’s alpha and omega, the 2nd skill [Gun Guard], Han Yoorim perfectly blocked the enemy’s attacks and immediately went on a killing spree.

There were many comments in the gallery asking why the enemies kept spamming skills at Isahyang, but that was a case of knowing one thing but not the other.

The man understood Han Yoorim’s opponents.

She was the type of player who could dodge point-blank auto-attacks. The only way to kill her was to spam skills when she was briefly crowd-controlled.

It was like a pitcher with limited options throwing bad pitches.

[Victory]

Han Yoorim, who had utterly destroyed her enemies, seemed satisfied with her play. She glanced at the victory screen for a moment before queuing up again.

The man was equally satisfied.

He had only planned to kill time for the day, but this was beyond his expectations.

*“Is her mic off?”*

It wasn’t like some 20-year-old internet broadcast, and no-mic streams were a bit off-putting.

But her skills were so satisfying that he didn’t mind.

One game, two games, three games… Han Yoorim’s carry continued.

The viewers cheered. The gallery was flooded with posts about Han Yoorim’s stream.

It felt like this moment would last forever.

*“Yo, Pusi’s playing a horror game today lololol.”*

*“This bastard finally stopped playing Eternal World lol.”*

*“-The café’s on fire, gotta put it out.”*

*“-Finally, something to watch.”*

But it didn’t.

As soon as Ga Joon-sik, the founder of V-TV, a VR-exclusive streaming platform, went live, the viewers disappeared like a mirage.

The viewer count, which had surpassed 3,000, didn’t just halve—it dropped to around 200.

Only then did Han Yoorim nod and end her stream.

*“That was hard to watch.”*

Now, time to think about the next game.

*

Han Yoorim’s debut was like a storm, but it didn’t leave a lasting impact.

It was expected that the next time Han Yoorim went live, fewer than 100 viewers would watch.

Maybe even fewer than 50.

The viewers were that cold. No-mic, no-cam streams had no reason to be watched, no matter how skilled the player was.

It wasn’t like the old days—nowadays, there’s an overflow of content to watch.

If people watched just because someone was skilled, pro gamers would’ve been the top streamers.

But that wasn’t the case.

Yoorim did gain some benefits after all.

Han Yoorim left a strong impression on thousands of viewers. That alone was a huge asset. It would definitely come in handy someday.

Her followers also skyrocketed in an instant. Some people stream for two years without gaining followers, but hers surpassed 5,000 in just one day.

Not to mention the dozens of regular viewers?

This was a fantastic start for a broadcaster.

Any broadcaster would find the initial period, when they’re talking to an empty void with no viewers, the most challenging.

She got past that phase in just two weeks, which was a pretty solid start.

So, Rozon couldn’t help but feel envious of Han Yoorim.

Rozon had also caught on to the series of events. He held his pounding heart and did some digging around.

Rozon didn’t do live streams. No matter how much he streamed, his viewer count didn’t increase, so there was no reason to do it.

He just edited recorded gameplay and uploaded it to MTube. He posted quite a lot of videos that way over a year…

But that didn’t mean Rozon disliked live streaming.

In fact, Rozon wanted to do live streams.

Meanwhile, Han Yoorim hit a peak of 3,000 viewers in just two weeks of streaming. Compared to his peak of 4 viewers, it was a completely different starting point.

If I had that kind of opportunity, I would’ve kept streaming live. Isn’t there any way?

Lost in thought, Rozon slapped his forehead and made a video to upload on MTube.

The title was [Apologizing to Han Yoorim].

If the video got a response, he’d do a detailed apology on a live stream and use the gathered viewers to continue broadcasting.

The plan was perfect.

A day passed, and Rozon checked the video’s views.

181.

Not more, not less—exactly the average number of views Rozon’s MTube videos got.

—

Mos clicked his tongue.

“It’s not my fault, but I feel kinda sorry. You know what I mean?”

—

Honestly, you only reacted because you sniped her, lol.

You just talked smack during the live stream. You didn’t even make a video and upload it to MTube.

—

“But I was the one who mediated, right? I turned on the stream when her name came up on the game forum, and the chat scared the hell out of me.”

—

But judging by how the chat was going wild while you were playing, it didn’t seem like you cared much, lol.

It’s not like you turned off the chat—you even picked Isahyang and teabagged.

—

“Anyway. So, even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I feel a little sorry and want to do something. Got it?”

Mos spoke to his viewers and opened Han Yoorim’s streaming channel. She wasn’t live, but the donation feature was open.

Mos coolly donated 100,000 won.

“This is me being a total simp. Admit it.”

—

Mos is the simp, lol.

—

Honestly, Mos didn’t do anything wrong in this situation. It wasn’t even something you could call an “incident.”

But because of that, it was awkward to make any kind of gesture.

If Mos went to Han Yoorim to apologize, he’d immediately hear, “Why are you apologizing?”

So, Mos chose to go live and donate to Han Yoorim.

He didn’t apologize, but he still did something to show he cared.

No one told him to do it, but it made him feel better.

Mos looked at the chat and put a cigarette in his mouth.

He planned to get his nicotine fix and continue streaming.

—

Han Yoorim: Thank you for the 100,000 won.

—

And then he dropped his cigarette.

A username he shouldn’t be seeing was there.

“Is that… for real?”

—

?

???

Nicknames can’t overlap.

What’s going on?

—

Mos quickly snapped out of it.

It was Han Yoorim, who had shown a hard-carry performance with Isahyang while staying silent.

She must’ve figured out the flow of events, so it wasn’t strange that she found out about his stream.

Since he donated as Mos, his main account, she probably came to check it out. It was understandable.

“I feel like the incident got bigger because of me. I’m sorry, so please accept this.”

It was a humble statement. Surely, the other person would respond by saying it wasn’t Mos’s fault…

—

Han Yoorim: If you’re really sorry, can we do a 1:1 voice chat? There’s something I want to say.

—

Nope.

What’s this?

Caught off guard, Mos obediently gave Han Yoorim his voice chat ID.

Ring ring.

The call connected, and the other person answered.

“Hello?”

[Hello, Mos.]

“Huh?”

Mos blinked. Like someone who just encountered something unexpected.

The viewers were the same.

—

?

??

Wait, Han Yoorim is a girl?

I thought the nickname was just for fun because the chat was making sexual jokes.

Does this make sense?

—

Mos, his viewers, and even the forum users—none of them had thought Han Yoorim was a girl.

Her skills were just too impressive.

“You said you had something to say.”

[Yes.]

Mos calmly waited for Han Yoorim’s response.

Her being a girl was surprising, but he didn’t let it shake him.

People like that couldn’t last in a close-knit community for nearly 10 years.

They’d get caught up in the periodic “queen bee” events and end up leaving.

Anyway, what did she want to say? As Mos wondered, Han Yoorim asked,

[Why didn’t you play the game?]

“…?”

Mos furrowed his brow.

What is she talking about?

I didn’t play the game?

Is she saying my Scout gameplay wasn’t human-like?

“Uh, what do you mean?”

[You didn’t play, right?]

“So, what exactly—”

[<Excel Busters>. You didn’t play it, right, Malangmabang?]

<Excel Busters>? What kind of game is that?

But there was one thing he knew.

Malangmabang—that was his old nickname.

But it was from about 7 years ago. He had changed his forum nickname to Mos a long time ago.

Mos asked to confirm,

“What’s your forum nickname?”

[I’m just a lurker, so I don’t have one.]

“No way. Who lurks in a close-knit forum for over 7 years? What’s your nickname? Or just tell me your IP.”

Mos shouted in excitement.

The chat was the same.

—

Holy crap, she’s one of us?

—