Episode 12
Let's go back to yesterday.
"Got something to talk about?"
"What is it, man?"
Alpaca was conversing with Lee Soo-han, his editor and manager.
"The streamer we're collabing with has only been broadcasting for two days. Yet they're asking if we have full source material from their streams."
He was discussing the upcoming collaboration with a new streamer.
Soo-han voiced his skepticism.
Their usual new talent discovery content targeted streamers just beginning to gain traction.
Whether through competitions, collabs, or other opportunities—whenever small-time streamers started attracting notice.
Alpaca invited these streamers both to enrich his own content and support their growth.
Most viewers of these invited streamers were new audiences.
The content revolved around unearthing the streamers' past antics—their cringeworthy early-day moments—to generate laughs and foster camaraderie with newcomers.
That was the core of their new talent discovery formula.
The time required for streamers to gain recognition varied wildly.
But...
A streamer with merely two days of experience was unprecedented.
"But Soo-han, you're missing something here."
"What?"
"They're coming on more as a featured master guest."
"Master guest? You've never done that before. Wait, more importantly—two days streaming... Ah!"
Soo-han clapped as if struck by realization.
"A famous master just started streaming! What game are they expert in?"
Alpaca sighed.
If only Soo-han had watched today's stream, he'd know the full story.
But expecting Soo-han—who handled Alpaca's YouTube management, editing, and managerial tasks—to watch every broadcast was unreasonable.
However...
"Dawn of the Assassins."
"What? That game has masters? Pfft."
Soo-han didn't miss Alpaca's streams due to busyness—he actively avoided them.
His obsession lay with "The League."
Years of it.
"Knew you'd say that. But seeing the footage might change your mind?"
As Alpaca fidgeted with his phone, hinting at evidence, Soo-han snorted.
"Please. Being good at some assassination game means zip. Not watching. Not interested."
You'll have to watch during editing anyway.
Alpaca swallowed the retort.
"Since when are PvE games fun or hard? Those games are designed to be cleared with minimal effort."
PvE (Player vs Environment) refers to battling AI opponents—the antithesis of PvP.
Despite Alpaca's years of urging him to try Dawn of the Assassins, Soo-han persistently refused, claiming machine battles lacked thrill.
"So anyway, it's this master guest thing?"
"Yeah."
"Do what you want then. I'm queueing up another match."
As Soo-han turned toward his room:
"Ah, right."
Alpaca remembered his original reason for mentioning the collab.
"Can you lend your VR pod to tomorrow's guest streamer?"
"What? We have spare pods."
Soo-han's tone turned stern.
"They specifically need yours. You recently upgraded to the top-tier model. Their immersion rate's subpar."
"How does a master have low immersion rate?"
Immersion rate:
A metric measuring how realistically one perceives virtual reality.
The stereotype linking high immersion rates to VR prowess held partial—no, substantial—truth.
Some even scored above 100 on the scale.
These individuals became so immersed in hyper-realistic virtual worlds that returning caused disorientation—like divers suffering decompression sickness upon surfacing.
Dubbed "virtual decompression sickness," this condition typically afflicted those demonstrating exceptional VR performance through high immersion.
After brief hesitation, Soo-han snapped:
"Nah. No way."
"Why?"
"You expect me to let some scrub use my fresh-out-the-box premium pod before I've barely touched it?"
Despite casual play, Soo-han maintained elite-tier ranking in The League.
"They might outperform you."
But Alpaca knew objectively—streamer Jin Seo-joon would surpass him.
Few could replicate those movements even in PvE.
The issue was Soo-han's refusal to watch the footage or acknowledge defeat.
Sigh. I'll just offer mine.
His own pod wasn't inferior.
Even with Seo-joon's guaranteed victory, demanding conflict with his editor over pod access wasn't feasible.
Yet responding to Soo-han's question suddenly sent chills down Alpaca's spine as realization dawned.
Wait... He performed like that despite low immersion... meaning he achieved those plays in an incompatible state.
Wow.
So how much better are you at fighting in real life? Are you some kind of thug? Wait, you use a sword... Yakuza? In Alpaca's mind, he pictured a man with a large facial scar wearing a floral shirt and carrying a tanto knife.
“Hello, I’m streamer Alpaca.”
Alpaca’s eyes widened as he opened the door with slightly trembling hands. Seojun’s face looked exactly like his virtual reality avatar. ‘I thought the avatar was just tweaked from a real face scan like everyone else’s, but it’s literally identical! Fortunately, Seojun was actually a clean-cut, handsome young man—quite different from what he’d imagined yesterday. He felt almost guilty for his strange assumptions.
“Hello, I’m streamer Jin Seojun.”
Meanwhile, Seojun glanced around curiously. He wondered what the studio of this early-30s long-running streamer would look like.
“Hyung, long time no see. I came too.”
“Taewoo, it has been a while. Come on in.”
After shaking hands with Alpaca, Seojun followed him into a spacious living room. While it resembled an ordinary home at first glance, the space felt meticulously divided between work and leisure areas.
As Alpaca and Taewoo settled on the sofa, Alpaca headed to the kitchen to brew coffee. A door creaked open, revealing a rough-faced man.
“Hello. I’m the editor, Lee Suhan.” Suhan extended his hand with a smirk.
“I’m streamer Jin Seojun. Nice to meet you.”
Seojun felt the force in Suhan’s grip. A power move?
“They say your immersion rate’s low.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re good at games.”
“Well, decent enough.”
While editing yesterday’s collab teaser, Suhan had reviewed Seojun’s gameplay. To his annoyance, the skill on display had sparked his competitiveness.
Thud.
The tense silence shattered as Alpaca slammed cups onto the table. He shot Suhan a sidelong glare and motioned for Seojun to sit.
“Alright. Now that introductions are done, let’s discuss the stream. Did you see the teaser?”
Seojun nodded. The video—posted on Alpaca’s fan cafe and YouTube—had intercut Seojun’s flashy gameplay with Alpaca’s bold declarations. Brief but effective for hype.
“Thanks to you, Mr. Seojun, the response is explosive! Your skills breathe life into the footage—it’s thrilling to watch! Kya~”
Whether the hype was genuine would soon become clear.
“The editor did all the work,” Alpaca added offhandedly.
Suhan scratched his neck awkwardly. “Hahaha… Nah. But while editing, I noticed something—how’re you this good after supposedly gaming for just two days?”
“Well… Since this stays between us—I played years ago.”
Seojun saw no reason to hide his past.
“How long ago?”
“Seven years. Dabbled in The League back then.”
Alpaca fixated on “seven years,” while Suhan latched onto “The League.”
“Were you good? What tier?” Suhan’s eyes gleamed.
“Silver.” The tier housing average players.
“No way! Skills don’t magically revive after a decade!”
Seojun shrugged. Suhan relented—if he insisted… Yet the footage suggested Seojun’s current skill matched his own. Hence:
“Mr. Seojun… How about a duel in the training grounds?” Suhan’s gaze darted playfully, testing reactions. Seojun frowned, while Taewoo perked up with a sly grin.
“You wanna duel him? Why?”
“To gauge our skills!”
“Against HIM?!”
Taewoo burst into laughter!
Suhan glared, irritated. Alpaca glanced up from his thoughts. Seojun, however, understood Taewoo’s amusement—his mischievous grin now aimed squarely at Seojun.
“Hyung, don’t do it.”
“Huh?”
“Just… don’t. Snort.”
“……?”
Taewoo stared at Seojun, his smile brimming with playful mischief.
Seojun recognized the meaning behind that look.
It was asking permission to speak.
Since Taewoo was friends with them and there would be no evidence even if the story leaked, Seojun nodded in approval.
“This is another secret, but if you want to fight him in the training grounds, just challenge level 10.”
This was essentially Seojun declaring himself as Unknown.
Alpaca and Lee Suhan’s eyes filled with shock as they grasped the implication.
“Wait… seriously?”
“Of course.”
Taewoo promptly pulled out his phone, played a video, and handed it to Alpaca. Lee Suhan bolted upright to watch beside him.
A burst of exclamations followed:
“Whoa.”
“Oh.”
“This?”
“Is that Shin Hayeon?”
“Damn, we’ve got someone way more impressive here than we realized.”
“Now I’m nervous about today’s collab stream.”
“Hold on—he didn’t get hit once?”
“Totally one-sided.”
“Kyah.”
“That last move was insane.”
Alpaca alternated between watching the video and Seojun with growing conviction, muttering “seven years ago” before sinking back into thought. After finishing the video, Lee Suhan addressed Seojun:
“I’ll formally acknowledge you as my senior now.”
His previously competitive gaze had transformed completely.
“Huh?”
“In gaming, skill dictates hierarchy.”
Seojun flapped his mouth open and closed in panic. Strictly speaking, being treated as an elder wouldn’t be unreasonable either. He smacked the snickering Taewoo—just because he felt like it.
Lee Suhan checked his watch and jabbed Alpaca’s shoulder. “Hey, what’re you doing? The senior’s stream time is coming up.”
“Huh? Oh! Let’s start prepping. Here’s my streaming pod—”
“This way, Senior. We’ll ensure your comfort.”
Alpaca stared incredulously as Lee Suhan led Seojun to his studio. Now we have to reset all the configurations, that little shit.
Seojun followed Lee Suhan into the studio while Alpaca sighed and trudged to his own streaming room. He adjusted his pod settings and gathered supplies for their post-stream meal. Though his broadcasts leaned on improvisation, these logistical preparations he handled with military precision.
An AI that beat Shin Hayeon…
For some reason, Alpaca wanted to keep ties with Seojun beyond today’s stream. And if Seojun truly was that legendary player he suspected…
No. Getting carried away.
Alpaca shook his head and stepped into the capsule.
