Chapter 208
The heightened awareness that kicks in when someone is targeting you is a vital survival instinct.
That’s why Seojun, who had honed every sense to its absolute limit, noticed it the moment he grabbed the doorknob.
The moment he opened this, someone would come flying at him.
‘What a brute.’
Click.
So Seojun swung the door wide open. Let them come.
As the turning doorknob clicked and the two separated spaces became one, the waiting assailant hurled his whole body forward.
The hectopascal kick.
That seemed to be what they called it.
The assailant didn’t hold back out of consideration for Seojun, nor did he prepare for any potential mishap.
Even he knew it.
“You think I’d get hit by that?”
That Seojun wouldn’t get hit.
Taewoo, having flown past the dodging Seojun, landed.
Thud.
A moment where one might worry about complaints from the downstairs neighbor.
“He dodged that too.”
Still a bit of a brute. Who on earth plays pranks like this?
Seojun clicked his tongue and looked back at Taewoo, only to be momentarily overwhelmed by the look in his eyes. It was because a hint of sincerity was visible.
“That... wasn't a joke?”
Knowing that guy, he might actually believe he could win the next match with that move.
Even for someone with low intelligence, no way, really.
As Seojun seriously covered his mouth with one hand and muttered, Taewoo grumbled.
“What’s that. Stop talking nonsense and have some chicken.”
Seojun, sitting on the bed, gestured out of the room. Taewoo’s gaze shifted sideways.
There lay the leftover chicken Seojun had been eating mid-game.
“What’s that? When did you eat it?”
“When you were losing. I stepped out for a bit to eat and watch.”
At Seojun’s deliberately needling choice of ‘when you were losing’ instead of ‘during the match’.
‘Is he doing that on purpose? Or is it subconscious?’
Taewoo just let out a hollow laugh.
“Ah. Hahaha. So that’s why I didn’t notice. Hahaha.”
The topics viewers chatter about change rapidly.
While the Rich-Poor Gap was eating and drawing aggro, Taewoo was probably in a moment where he couldn’t see the chat, so it’s understandable he missed it. After the game ends, unless the teammates are talking about being hungry, the chat brings up that the Rich-Poor Gap already ate, and the conversation flows from there, the topic is unlikely to resurface.
“That’s how it happened. I already ate. So you eat alone, Taewoo.”
“I see. Hahahahaha.”
“Oh? You ordered the same thing I ate?”
“Hahaha.”
“I’ll believe it. You are indeed my friend.”
As Seojun kept needling him, Taewoo finally exploded.
“Believe what, you bastard! You told me to order that! That! That chicken with the cheese powder on it!”
“Did I?”
“No, if you were going to eat beforehand and tell me to eat alone, then why the hell did you spam my capsule messages telling me to order it!”
[Jin Seojun: chicken go]
[Jin Seojun: chicken go]
[Jin Seojun: chicken go]
.
.
That’s right.
The truth was, Taewoo would have been fine not eating anything and just sleeping today. No, he had intended not to eat.
He was exhausted from the aftermath of the match.
And when you’re tired, you should rest, not make your intestines and body work by consuming food.
Still, because his friend told him to, he went through the hassle and ordered it. He even set out a side plate, cup, and utensils in advance since his friend was coming out late.
And yet?
“You son of a... .”
Just as Taewoo was getting up from the bed to launch another hectopascal kick, Seojun leisurely walked out to the living room and sat at the kitchen table.
“It was a joke, I was going to eat too. Come quickly and eat.”
A sudden surge of sorrow about his own life welled up inside Taewoo.
“Crazy bastard... .”
Perhaps it was because he instinctively knew he could never truly retaliate against that guy in real life.
* * *
“You’re eating again? It actually goes in?”
“I’m the type that uses a lot of energy in virtual reality.”
“What is this crazy bastard saying.”
“If you answer every question I ask with ‘crazy bastard,’ how am I supposed to react?”
Seojun chuckled and gulped down some cola.
Certainly, Taewoo was the one answering offensively, but the victor was Seojun.
Because Taewoo had already lost the moment he ordered that chicken.
That’s how it is.
When guys are just shooting the breeze without thinking, the one who gets upset first loses.
Truly unreasonable.
“Ah. Congrats on your Jipaljikkon team making it to the semifinals. You didn’t live up to the name after all.”
“Right. Congrats to you guys too. For making it.”
Taewoo looked at Seojun with a newfound perspective.
Seojun had already become one of the streamers who drew the most viewers during matches.
‘Well, even I would probably watch his stream.’
Hadn’t he occasionally broken through the 100,000 viewer wall that even Taewoo hadn’t surpassed yet?
‘He’d be a championship contender.’
Their team, Jipaljikkon, had also beaten Heavy Mental, another championship contender. They had advanced past the group stage.
But it had been a tough fight.
Their strategy and goal had been 2 wins. They gave their best in every match, with no throwaway games.
Even so, the result was 1 win and 1 loss.
The single win was largely thanks to Keril’s carry, capitalizing on early mistakes, so luck played a big part.
Not to say they would have lost without those early mistakes, but the longer the game dragged on, the fate of the three teams that ended 1-1 was unknown.
In the end, Group B could be summarized as an extremely close call.
Then what about Group A?
‘A landslide victory.’
Well, there’s the word ‘if,’ but Taewoo knows. It’s meaningless.
Ultimately, the one who managed to make Keril do it unnoticed was his friend.
The one who pulled off the ‘gang-seung’ (intentional feeding) was also Seojun.
Facing a team like that?
Suddenly feeling his temper rise at the thought, Taewoo jabbed a finger at Seojun.
“You crazy bastard. So you’re the one blocking my path! I knew this would happen! I shouldn’t have taken you in as a streamer.”
“Wow.”
“But it won’t be easy. I’ll show you why a senior is a senior.”
“Crazy bastard.”
Taewoo quickly regained his composure, put down his chopsticks, and stared straight at Seojun.
Winning against his friend wasn’t just about mechanics alone. You could see it just from the attempts he made to secure victory by any means.
It was simply that his mechanics, his skill, and his brain were so outstanding that the range of attempts he could make was wide and bizarre.
‘Keril of Analysis said so, so it must be true.’
Keril of Analysis.
Taewoo trusted that young teammate.
Though there was nothing he could do about Bangmangi.
The jungle position, where the Goblin resides, has the strongest influence across all lanes, doesn’t it? If they made or didn’t make the same number of mistakes, the truth was Bangmangi had the advantage.
But the Rich-Poor Gap is different.
“We will win.”
Can’t retaliate against his friend in real life?
Then he can just do it in the game.
He knew the circumstances, but in his current state, even if he didn’t win the championship, he’d likely be able to amass 100 million soon.
“Alright. Let’s settle this cleanly. I’ll forget that you tried to assassinate me with a hectopascal kick and failed.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Taewoo readily admitted to the charge of his assassination attempt.
“So, to celebrate making it out of the group stage, buy me some meat tomo... .”
“Shut up.”
Taewoo raised his middle finger straight up, using hand-sign language to express the Chinese character for mountain (山).
* * *
The next day.
Upon seeing an email, Seojun fell into thought from the morning.
[Hello. This is Im Gangsan, director of Last Chronicle.]
The moment he saw the email’s title, he knew it was an advertisement proposal.
It wasn’t uncommon for Seojun, who had received love calls from indie games, to get an email directly from a game company’s director.
However, a misunderstanding was cleared up upon closer inspection.
First, Last Chronicle was a large-scale game.
An MMORPG, to be precise.
Due to the nature of this genre, an indie developer could never make it.
A literal translation of MMORPG is Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game.
In other words, the reality is that smaller companies can’t even touch it.
He was first surprised that the director of such a game sent an email.
The second thing was the compensation.
“40 million won.”
Hadn’t he heard that a few major corporations paid around 40 million?
It was high.
For Seojun, whose core fanbase wasn’t at the major corporation level.
Third was the condition.
“It’s not 40 million for nothing, I see.”
The game company wanted him to participate in the first clear race.
It wasn’t just a one-time advertisement.
“Hmm.”
The first clear race.
Seojun knew what it was, too.
The highlight of an RPG raid.
Honor itself.
The thing that drives gamers of that game crazy.
“Indeed, now that we’ve reached the semifinals, it is time to think about the next game, but...”
If he lost to Taewoo, he’d have to find new content just three days later.
But what mattered was the game.
“Ultimately, if it’s not popular, it’s probably better not to take it.”
Even Seojun, who had never played an MMORPG, knew this.
That this kind of thing has no answer if people don’t gather above a certain level.
“There’s also an option for an additional 50% of the fee if I win. To sum it up, I have to keep at it until the first clear for 60 million won?”
Calculating it, it’s a loss for him. He should receive more. But if the game was just playable, Seojun judged it would be quite okay.
In the end, it was a matter of deciding after trying the game and seeing if it suited him.
“That’s what I thought, but why did he want to meet today, no matter what? Or tomorrow? Asking to contact him whenever I have time? As soon as possible?”
He couldn’t understand.
Couldn’t they meet after the semifinals?
Meeting then would be right before the finals, so maybe it feels more pressuring?
Since meeting was no problem, Seojun sent a reply via email and went outside.
And that afternoon.
“Hello, I’m Im Gangsan.”
“Yes, hello. I’m streamer Jin Seojun.”
Seojun was able to meet the person who had rushed all the way near his place in a single step.
* * *
Im Gangsan was nervous as he looked at the streamer sitting across from him in the cafe.
He had already looked into all the most popular streamers of Rios currently drawing attention.
So he knew quite a bit about Seojun, who was sitting in front of him.
Seojun was on the list of streamers to be contacted first.
However, after hearing what his junior said, he simply re-examined past records.
And realized.
‘If it’s that streamer, there’s a possibility he’ll get the first clear.’
It’s an undeniable reality that the best scenario is for a streamer, who can let tens of thousands of people enjoy that moment simultaneously, to get the first clear, rather than just the average user.
It wouldn’t particularly harm fair competition.
It was just that, if possible, that would be better, and from that perspective, that streamer was the person with the highest potential.
‘Of course, he’s not a strategy expert, so the probability of failing the first clear is higher, but even so, the promotion would be certain.’
He decided to contact him.
He accepted that this was the best move, and because of CEO Lee’s outburst, he came to meet him right away today like this.
“So... . Last Chronicle is... .”
However, the more he explained the game, the more the other person’s expression sank into a labyrinth, making Im Gangsan increasingly tense.
Had something gone wrong?
Were the conditions a bit unreasonable?
If he just leveled his character intermittently before the raid update and did the ad broadcast for just one day of the raid, the conditions weren’t that bad.
What was the sticking point?
After finishing his explanation, Im Gangsan waited for Seojun to speak. He was confident in his persuasion skills.
Finally, Seojun’s mouth opened.
“But the game... .”
And the moment he realized the problem wasn’t the conditions but something about the game itself, Im Gangsan was able to deduce why Seojun felt reluctant.
It was obvious. Wasn’t it a chronic problem of Korean RPGs?
The thing that Western users are deathly sick of.
The thing that turns gamers into black cows.
But this was the one part he could answer with the most confidence.
So he cut Seojun off and sent a look that said, ‘Put your worries aside.’
“Last Chronicle isn’t heavily pay-to-win. Spending money? You really don’t have to. Even completely free-to-play... .”
“... .”
“... .”
“Um... . Spending money?”