Chapter 33
Bus stop.
With his hood pulled low to hide his face, Lee Geonyeong stared intently at his phone.
A blue bus approached the stop.
He opened the route he'd searched online and double-checked.
‘Is that the right number?’
Still uncertain, he boarded the bus.
It was his first time taking public transportation in years.
Beep.
[Fare: 1,200 won]
The bus fare displayed on the screen.
‘It used to be 720 won….’
Geonyeong felt the reality of having become an adult in the years that had passed since the last time.
It had already been two years since he became an adult, but shut up in his room, he had never really noticed.
‘Pretty empty.’
He took an empty seat, pulled out his earphones, and plugged them into both ears.
Then he opened iTube and went to his watch history.
[What's a Parry? - Dawn of the Assassins (Shadows in the City) #1]
It was a title that made him laugh the moment he saw it, since he already knew the whole content from watching Seojun’s stream from the beginning.
A video of the streamer Seojun edited by someone other than him.
The day before, while doing extra work to send the edited version to Seojun, he had watched it over and over, but even now, heading to meet him, he played it one more time.
From the start, a fast-paced violin background track played as Seojun climbed a clock tower by scaling its wall.
‘They really did a great job with this.’
It was a dedicated intro for Dawn of the Assassins made by the other editor.
It was also included in the video he'd worked on.
The scene showing Alteon’s nightscape began to transition rapidly.
It looked just like the intro of a hero movie company.
Scenes from Seojun’s gameplay so far flashed by quickly, and a single logo appeared.
[Jin Seojun iTube.]
The slick intro instantly pulled viewers deeper into the video.
‘They said they have experience... I wonder if we’ll end up working together.’
After that, Seojun showed himself playing like a typical first-timer, and chat messages laughing at him popped up.
Then the users’ nicknames appeared.
White-Horse-Rider Patient, Big Block, and his own nickname.
Brick Snatcher King.
‘Ah. So embarrassing.’
He paused the video for a moment.
Online, that nickname was something he was proud(?) of.
But knowing that the people he was about to meet knew his real identity made him cringe.
And he also thought he was pathetic himself.
‘Anyway, they really made it well. I’m jealous.’
The comments were positive, too.
When he reached his destination, he stopped the video and got off the bus.
“I’m plenty early.”
They had agreed to meet at a café.
As Geonyeong headed to the meeting spot, he thought.
‘This is my first time signing a contract like this—how do I do this? And the other editor is really good... Will I even be useful?’
Anxiety crept back in.
He had gotten too used to his comfort zone.
‘But if I let these thoughts devour me and stop walking now, I’ll never get anywhere.’
Geonyeong opened the café door.
Then he sent a message to the group chat saying he’d arrived.
A woman sitting by the window looking at her phone began to glance around.
Then she spotted him standing at the entrance and waved.
“Hello.”
Geonyeong tried to answer but froze for a second.
It had been so long since he’d talked to anyone besides his family.
“Yeah... *ahem*.”
“I’m Han Jimin. Nice to meet you.”
“Yes, hello. I’m Lee Geonyeong.”
His voice kept shrinking like a decrescendo.
But before long, the atmosphere flipped.
“No way. That really happened?”
“I’m telling you. A total scumbag, right? Showed his true colors once things got good. I went through so much trouble to build that channel. There was barely any revenue, so I had to work part-time and somehow kept it going, just barely managed to grow it.”
Jimin vented, and Geonyeong chimed in.
Meeting someone in person, Geonyeong realized that chatting comfortably like before wasn’t that hard after all.
“So the gist of what I’m saying is this: don’t volunteer to be a slave. Mm-hmm.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Geonyeong was twenty-one, Jimin twenty-six—a decent age gap—but they seemed to click well.
To Geonyeong, Jimin had started working earlier and had visible results, making her seem far more mature than her age.
“If they try to force passion pay on you under the excuse of revenue sharing, just say no.”
“But still….”
Geonyeong wanted to work with Seojun, the first person who had acknowledged him.
“You did the second video that went up today, right, Geonyeong?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check the reactions?”
“No. I’m kind of scared of people seeing it.”
“You seem talented. You could do well working elsewhere, too.”
Mm-hmm.
Jimin nodded.
“And honestly, a new streamer is more likely to lowball you than properly take care of two editors. The streaming seems to be going well, but who knows how long that’ll last. The channel isn’t even generating income yet, so there’s no way they’d invest in editors. Don’t expect too much.”
“Then why did you come here yourself?”
“If they try to exploit me like everyone else did, I’m here to give them a piece of my mind.”
Geonyeong had to look away from the fiery glint in Jimin’s eyes—it was a bit intimidating.
It seemed like she had a lot of pent-up resentment from her former employer.
“Um….”
Seojun-nim probably fights well in real life, too.
Geonyeong swallowed the rest of his words.
Just then, light flashed on both their phones at the same time.
Ding.
It was a message from Seojun saying he’d arrive soon.
* * *
“Boss, are you serious? You could end up taking a huge loss on this.”
Jimin asked the same question for the fifth time.
“I told you, it’s fine.”
Seojun gave the same answer for the fifth time.
“Really?”
“Yes. We even have a contract.”
“Boss! I’ll follow you with absolute trust for life! My loyalty!”
Next to him, Geonyeong stared at Jimin in disbelief as she gleefully signed the contract.
“No, but….”
The terms Seojun had proposed were simple.
Both editors would manage the entire channel.
Minimum base pay, but in exchange, 25% of the channel’s revenue as incentives.
Unless there was some breach of responsibility, the contract would continue automatically—superficially, conditions that seemed unfavorable to Seojun.
Geonyeong poked Jimin’s arm with a look that clearly demanded an explanation.
Then Jimin said in an excited voice.
She seemed thrilled.
“He’s a god, hyung!”
Now what’s with ‘hyung’?
You’re older than him, and you’re a woman.
“Not that.”
“Snatcher King-nim. What are you curious about?”
Seojun, who’d been watching, spoke up.
“Uh, hyung-nim—I mean, boss. My name is Lee Geonyeong, remember?”
“And your ID is Brick Snatcher King.”
Seojun grinned an infuriating grin.
It was the same expression he wore when he pulled a fast one during a stream or messed with his viewers.
Every time his nickname came up, Geonyeong would glance around self-consciously, and noticing that, Seojun deliberately said it louder—making Geonyeong want to smack him.
“Sigh... Anyway. Even someone like me who doesn’t know much thinks you don’t really need to share the revenue, Seojun-nim.”
That was exactly the part Jimin had explained to Seojun multiple times.
That even without splitting the revenue, he could probably find an editor.
And Geonyeong would have accepted even without incentives.
“Well, as long as Snatcher King-nim works hard, it won’t be a loss for me.”
Seojun had made his own calculation.
iTube was just one of a streamer’s income sources anyway.
In that case, rather than wasting energy trying to grow a channel he didn’t even know well, wasn’t it better to hand it all to the editors and focus on his broadcasts?
There really were cases where people like Alpaca had succeeded this way.
It was also the reason people signed up with MCNs even though it meant sharing iTube revenue.
“Let’s see, boss... The views! It’s already passed 10,000! It took me months of going crazy just to barely break the 10,000 barrier!”
Next to him, Jimin was signaling Geonyeong with her eyes to hurry up and sign.
Eventually, Geonyeong let out a hollow laugh and signed the contract.
“Let’s go for a company dinner right now. Boss! I’ve got some money I squeezed out of that rotten bastard last time. I’m treating today!”
That night, Geonyeong, who had never drunk before, got completely wasted.
* * *
“What? I’m an arrogant madman? Then you’re just a plain madman. Ha-ha-ha!”
A handsome man, the kind who’d be taken for a noble’s son if he walked down the street in ordinary clothes, let out a hearty laugh.
Amid a battlefield of spattering blood and torn flesh,
a strange sight was unfolding.
Two young-looking men, surrounded by dozens of enemies.
At first glance it seemed like an ordinary battlefield, but what stood out was that the many foes encircling the two men hesitated to charge, instead watching warily and staying on edge.
However, anyone who knew the two men’s identities would think this natural.
“Shut up and clear the way.”
On the back of the one who said that was the character for ‘Righteousness’ (正).
On the back of the madman—no, the handsome man—laughing boisterously was the character for ‘Heaven’ (天).
These two were none other than the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Sect, the greatest faction in the martial world, and a renowned prodigy of the orthodox sects.
In this crisis, they had formed a temporary alliance.
The memory cut to black again.
And like a flashback, the bastard’s face surfaced.
His eyes, always filled with arrogance and certainty, looked at him.
“That annoying face of yours never ages.”
“If you hadn’t been in the orthodox sects, cooperation in this situation would have been impossible.”
“You lunatic. You think you’re orthodox?”
“We are too much alike, you and I.”
“Have you forgotten I’m ten years older? With that rotten attitude of yours.”
“My old friend…….”
* * *
Seojun woke from his sleep.
“Ah. It was a damn dream….”
Still lying down, he pressed his temples.
His head throbbed.
He frowned at the face from his past life that flickered clearly, as if ruminating.
“Of all dreams to have, why that one. Tch.”
Seojun clicked his tongue.
The dreams were ominous tonight.
And not just ordinary ominous.
“Should I just skip streaming today too?”
Seojun had taken the previous day off.
It was definitely not because he wanted to tease viewers eager to see the quest wrap up.
Really.
He’d simply had to rest because he was meeting the new editors.
There was absolutely no other intention.
None at all.
[Of all days to take a break. What a real a-h-le]
[Please turn on the stream soon.]
[Open up, streamer, I'm cold...]
[From now on I'll never nitpick anything you do! So please come back...]
Well, maybe just a little.
Smiling, Seojun closed the community page and opened a chatroom.
[Brick Snatcher King: Day 4 streaming times—1 hour 23 min, 27 min, 34 min. Please confirm.]
[Han Jimin: Confirmed!]
.
.
.
There were countless other conversations besides.
Mostly, Geonyeong asking Jimin about various editing techniques, but when it came to the source material of Seojun’s broadcasts, Jimin was the one asking Geonyeong.
Full of passion, huh.
Seojun stretched, then got out of bed and washed up.
The time was 8 a.m.
“Too late to go exercise.”
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
As he ate a simple breakfast of cereal, the front door opened.
It was Kim Taewoo, back from his first morning workout in a long while.
Ever since high school, Taewoo had followed Seojun around, but since they became adults, he only went when he felt like it.
“Hey, you crazy bastard.”
What’s with him this early in the morning?
“Did you know Lee Dongsu is a professional Freefall player?”
Freefall?
He’d heard that name somewhere.
“Is that the team Shin Hayeon is on?”
“Yeah.”
He’d heard it was a dynasty that had lasted from the PC era all the way to the current capsule era.
“Really? No wonder his movements had such sense.”
“Thanks to you tormenting him with sparring.”
It wasn’t torment, it was teaching.
“We got close talking behind your back. Even had steaming hot gukbap together.”
Seojun thought.
Why do all my friends turn out like this?
“Oh! And this is confidential among the players, but apparently Shin Hayeon did nothing but train in the sparring arena for a whole week and finally beat you.”
“Oh?”
Seojun’s AI was naturally not at Seojun’s real skill level—if Seojun fought again, he could win easily—but it was still higher than Hayeon’s level.
She hadn’t been able to beat it for a week, after all.
But in the end, she had overcome the AI.
‘Hmm, we seem to have some kind of connection.’
It meant she had grown past her limits.
As a distant senior in martial studies, it pleased him to see a junior progressing like that.
And so.
‘As a senior... I ought to be of help. Heh heh.’
Seojun finished his food and stood up.
“What are you doing? Why are you getting into the capsule?”
“Ah. Just going to loosen up a bit.”
Seojun stayed inside the capsule for quite a while after that.
It was way more than just loosening up.
Feeling inexplicably uneasy, Taewoo turned on his phone and went to a site related to the sparring arena.
Then he gaped in genuine awe.
“Is he insane? What is he thinking.”
On the sparring arena rankings were the three characters Jin Seo Jun.