Episode 27
When game companies select streamers for advertising campaigns, they typically use iTube as their benchmark. The reason is simple - there's a massive difference in audience size between Treble and iTube.
Compare a streamer with 5,000 live viewers but 1 million iTube views versus one with 10,000 live viewers but only 100,000 iTube views. Which would be better for promotion? It’s as clear as day.
Of course, there are exceptions. Streamers with highly loyal viewers, numerous followers who frequently watch Treble replays, and strong purchasing power can command higher rates even with fewer iTube subscribers.
Neither applies to me though.
iTube subscribers? I don’t even have a channel yet. No account whatsoever. My viewership? Just three days old.
I heard they run massive ad campaigns when launching new games…
Doesn’t apply either.
“What do you think, Seo-joon? Will you accept our offer?”
“Thank you for the generous offer. Honestly, I’d like to sign immediately, but…”
“…But?”
“I’m just a bit confused. Why are you offering me such favorable terms?”
Ten million won.
Not much by major standards.
But for the current Seo-joon, even one million would be good treatment. Just receiving an advertising offer was something to be grateful for.
“Haha. You’re quite cautious, Seo-joon.”
“Just curious, is all.”
There’s no such thing as a free lunch.
Seo-joon smiled casually but was ready to walk away from the deal if needed. He’d cooperate—but only to a point.
While Kim Yoon-chan might not have noticed, Eve Faimo seemed to read his hesitation.
“Hmm, seems I need to convince you,” Eve chuckled, her slightly wrinkled blue eyes crinkling pleasantly. “Simply put, this is an investment. Both Team Leader Kim Yoon-chan here and I have watched every one of your streams without fail.”
Kim Yoon-chan nodded beside her.
“We believe you’ll achieve tremendous growth. We want to establish this relationship early at the company level. Frankly, even if the teaser video is slightly delayed, it’s no major issue. By beta testing time, we expect you’ll have grown much more. A win-win situation.”
Straightforward.
Now it made sense.
This was groundwork—early recognition of potential. And also a gift of sorts.
“Yes. Literally just us right now. Other companies don’t know yet,” Kim Yoon-chan chimed in.
“I’m the president anyway,” Eve added with an easy smile.
The revelation shocked Seo-joon—she was the president?
Kim Yoon-chan began explaining contract terms as he passed over documents. Everything matched what they’d said earlier.
As explanations concluded, Eve made another offer:
“Seo-joon, while Dawn of the Assassins would be fine for advertising… may I recommend another game?”
“Which one?”
“For Harmony.”
For Harmony—a wuxia-style action game by Movie Soft set on a fictional continent.
“With your skills, you’d deliver incredible gameplay there too. I’d love to see that.”
Eve seemed more interested in watching Seo-joon play than promoting company games now.
“I’ll consider it seriously. But President… where are you from originally?”
“Ah, I’m French, actually.”
“Really? Your Korean is excellent!”
“I studied briefly in Korea.”
“I see. Is honesty a French virtue, then?”
“No,” she smiled. “Just thought honesty would work best with you.”
Remarkably straightforward.
The president certainly knew how to read people.
Gathering the contract documents with a smile as he stood: “Thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Eve replied.
“One last question—what if someone else collects all Fragments of Order within a week?”
Seo-joon suddenly thought of Lee Dong-soo.
“Hmm… Unlikely but possible,” Eve considered. “There is one promising user who doesn’t stream. We’d just ask them not to publicize it.”
Neither realized they were talking about the same person.
Nor that with Seo-joon cooperating now, contacting Lee Dong-soo had become unnecessary—he was only playing Dawn of the Assassins because of Seo-joon in the first place.
“Understood. Looking forward to working together, then.”
Eve shook his hand with a knowing smile.
“We’re excited for the synergy Movie Soft and you will create.”
Instead of capturing the ruler as requested, Seojun began enjoying the game by engaging in various activities within the Assassin's Dawn.
He still ignored missions and quests, doing as he pleased. When streamers noticed Seojun showed no signs of pursuing the ruler, some thought: What if I gather intel on the Fragments of Order first? That’d be huge. This mindset spread, creating a faint trend of challenging the ruler. Even Han Jimin’s employer—a YouTube editor—had the same idea.
The problem?
“That bitch.”
Jimin sighed deeply and sank into her chair.
[Make it feel more like this streamer’s style.]
[I fixed it, check now.][1]
[Hey][1]
[Look at this][1]
Two days had passed without being read. This had been ongoing for a month. She pressed her right hand against her eyes.
“Haaa… They say money turns family and friends into enemies.”
Jimin wanted to throttle her employer—someone she’d once shared dreams and hardships with. “I should’ve known when she kept nitpicking trivial things.”
A year and a half ago, Jimin was just learning video editing. She stumbled upon a small-time streamer and enjoyed their broadcasts until hearing they struggled with YouTube growth due to editing alone. Wanting to grow together, Jimin sent her work, marking their partnership’s start. The streamer proposed splitting YouTube revenue 50-50 instead of a stable salary—When we earn little, we suffer together. When we earn big, we thrive together.
“We shouldn’t have relied on a verbal agreement.”
Regrets were pointless now. For the first six months, Jimin obsessed over editing despite hardships. They had 217 subscribers then—no revenue in sight. Yet she and the streamer persevered. Jimin barely slept, uploading daily to grow the channel. As her skills improved, the channel caught YouTube’s algorithm. Six months later, they hit 30K subscribers and began earning.
“Things were good until then.”
Life stabilized for Jimin, and eight peaceful months passed. The channel neared 100K subscribers. Live streams gained traction too. But as income grew and they hired more editors, problems arose.
“People are so petty.”
Jimin stared at her monitor displaying footage she’d grown sick of—her former friend’s content. A month ago, they’d fought because Jimin was “taking too much” as an editor, despite building the channel.
“Pfft. She thinks managing a channel is easy.”
She closed her editing software. It was time to cut ties—this month’s earnings still hadn’t arrived. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
“What? ‘Make it feel more streamer-like’? You know I can’t do that with my skills—fuck!”
She’d trusted this friend. They’d survived hardships together, closer than anyone. She never expected betrayal. Trembling with rage, she wanted to cry.
“What do I even have left?”
Just savings from being too busy to spend… and her editing skills? Her vision blurred—it felt like her entire year-and-a-half effort was erased.
Still, work couldn’t wait. For the first time in ages, Jimin checked job boards… and froze at one posting.
“……”
Ironically, it was for the streamer featured in videos her ex-employer had sent—an incomparably skilled person seeking freelance editors, with potential for a permanent role.
“You’ll split profits too? Fine, let’s see you put that in a contract. Try exploiting me without one—I dare you.”
Jimin emailed Seojun immediately.
-You’re capturing the ruler tomorrow? Finally lololololol
-The real deal’s coming!
-After seeing others fail, I get why chat calls you OP T_T
-With your skills? Pickpocketing/mini-games were overkill.
-FR give me those skills if you’re wasting them!
“Alright everyone, see you tomorrow~”
-WTF!
-Twitch bastard!
-TB*
click
Seojun exited the capsule after ending his stream.
After washing up, he sat at his computer and checked his emails.
[The teaser video is complete.]
[(AD) ★1st prize in 929th draw/2nd prize in 996th draw★ Free 'predicted winning numbers' event!! Maybe it’s your turn this time.]
[Seojun, if you keep only streaming Assassin’s Creed Dawn, your channel might fail... Just some advice from a fan...]
[Report: mijhvn0216 used abusive language.]
The first email visible was from MovieSoft, stating the teaser was finished and he could now proceed freely. Most other emails were ads or viewers offering unsolicited commentary on his streams. There were no editor applications.
“Tch.”
After publicly recruiting editors, a handful of videos had come in on the first and second days. None appealed to Seojun. No matter how devoted a fan they were, he couldn’t hire an unskilled editor.
“At least I have two videos secured for iTube.”
One was a collaboration video edited by Lee Soo-han from Alpaca’s team, the other his first broadcast edit commissioned from an editor recruitment site. Seojun played the video from an editor named Han Ji-min.
His assessment: “No unnecessary flourishes, clean cuts. Are they a veteran?”
A voice spoke behind him. “Yeah.” Seojun had already detected Taewoo’s arrival through the faint sounds of movement.
“Planning to sign them exclusively?”
“Hmm…”
Seojun wanted to hand over his channel entirely to an editor—it’d be more efficient. Through Soo-han, he’d heard editors who were avid fans of the streamer they worked for tended to perform best.
“We’re in talks. Sent them a few test edits first—their skills are solid.”
“Really? Lock them down if possible.”
If he couldn’t find an editor, he’d consider joining an MCN.
“Yeah. But let’s wait a bit longer. They might decline the offer, though.”
They both stared intently at the monitor for a moment.
“True. Or you could scout directly—find someone among fans who’ve posted their own edits.”
After saying this, Taewoo patted Seojun’s chair and left for his room. He always checked on Seojun after streams ended.
Following Taewoo’s advice, Seojun logged into iTube and searched:
“What keywords?”
Unknown
Peerless
Dominator
Streamer fan edits
Etc.
Nothing relevant appeared no matter what he tried. Giving up, he searched for editor application videos instead—and spotted a familiar iTube username:
[PublicRestroomBrickSnatcherKing]
A longtime viewer who’d never responded to manager role offers. Seojun inspected the video: 157 views, titled simply “.”, with the description: “Editor application video for streamer Seojun.”
“Why public? And… I don’t recall seeing this in my emails.”
He rechecked his inbox and trash—had he accidentally deleted it? No, it was never there.
‘Let’s watch.’
After viewing it, Seojun propped his chin on his hand, deep in thought.
“This is seriously good! Why didn’t they email it?”
