I Became a Malicious Streamer

I had not always been one to make a woman cry.

Whether it was intentional or not, I had a history of making women cry.

My friends were always quick to tease me, asking if I had made yet another woman cry.

They even said they had never seen someone so lacking in empathy as me.

But seriously, why do they cry? I hadn’t even done anything that terrible.

Every time a woman cried in front of me, I would have these small, nagging questions.

Anyway, while I didn’t encounter a woman’s tears often, I had experienced them enough to be somewhat familiar with the situation.

But just because I was familiar didn’t mean I had a clue what to do.

The awkwardness that arose when faced with a woman’s tears never grew any easier, no matter how many times I experienced it.

“Hueeeh, you… you terrible jerk! Heeek.”

Through the screen, Sua was sobbing, her nose sniffing as she cried pitifully. The viewers who had been busy teasing her just moments ago suddenly shifted the conversation.

[F*cked up!]

[I can’t beat this juice lol;]

[Quickly say you’re sorry, Mollru!]

[Mollru doesn’t know?Lru]

[The man who made Sua cry, who could he possibly be?]

[This could be a major life achievement ㅇㅇ]

[Real man characteristic: bullying until a woman cries]

[Mollru, representative of Male Alliance ㄷㄷ One glorious win]

[Isn’t Mollru the one who lost?]

[It’s a fight he can never win.]

Wait, you guys were the ones teasing her!

I hadn’t done anything!

Their quick switch in attitude made me snicker.

I was just guilty of killing Sua on purpose.

Most of her crying was probably due to the mockery in the chat.

“Hmph.. you guys are worse. Isn’t that right? Yeah, you’re both equally bad.”

With her nose stuffed, Sua wiped the corners of her eyes with a tissue. Her eyes were red and looking overly pitiful.

Just then, a sound effect played on the broadcast, and a mechanical voice began.

< Sua, the Commander of the Sua Brigade, has sponsored 10,000 won! >

– If everyone is sorry for Sua, should we shout “I’m sorry, Sua?”

This was a donation where viewers send a certain amount of money along with a message to the streamer.

Unless you mute the donation sound, the message gets sent out mechanically on the broadcast, so the donation practically served as a loudspeaker as well.

The timing of the donation was perfect.

[Ah haha, right? We were wrong!]

[Sorry, Sua-Sua-]

[Sorry, Sua-]

[Not sorry at all-]

[Sorry, sorry~ Sorry, sorry~]

In an instant, the situation flipped.

There were some strange comments in between, but generally, the atmosphere was filled with apologies for Sua. As the chat continued, Sua folded her arms, adopting a gesture as if wanting to see more.

Wait, am I supposed to apologize too?

The thought didn’t linger long. Everyone was apologizing, and I couldn’t ignore my own role as the one who made her cry, even if I was only doing it to clear my name.

>> Molilru: Sorry, Sua-Sua.

This was a whisper function allowing me to message a specific user directly.

With over 5,000 viewers watching, I figured my message would get lost in the broadcast chat, so I sent it through in-game chat. It definitely made an impact.

“Y-you crazy psycho? I told you not to do that!”

Seeing the whisper I sent, Sua yelled at me with gritted teeth.

She seemed more angry than before. Did I apologize for no reason?

I really can’t figure out women’s minds!

In the chat, comments about me being a real man popped up, while others remarked how sweet it was that I still cared. Some said I seemed to be lacking in empathy, but they thought I might actually be a good person.

“…Enough already, don’t do that again. Were you just a fan of mine? Regardless, that was just too much.”

Sua appeared to have calmed down a bit. She unfolded her arms and seemed exhausted from yelling loudly.

I guess apologizing was the right choice. My father was right when he said most relationships could be mended through conversation.

Just as I nodded along, a voice I couldn’t ignore reached my ears.

“And please, don’t use aimbot. Even if your skills are lacking, a person should play the game fair and square.”

>> Molilru: I’m not using aimbot!

Before Sua finished her sentence, I sent a whisper back.

I had entirely forgotten the origin of why I had started all this because I was so caught up in retaliating.

After all, Sua was the one who labeled me a hacker in the first place.

Most of the people dodging me in the pick screen were likely viewers of her stream.

If I could clarify things on her broadcast, this whole issue could be resolved.

But before I could even finish my thought, Sua let out a derisive snort.

“Come on, don’t kid around. I saw you were ranked in the first season, but even if your main account is a Challenger?”

>> Molilru: Yes.

“Then tell me your nickname. I want to see what rank you are in the Challenger.”

Faced with Sua’s demand to reveal my nickname, I found myself unable to respond.

My original account—the one that barely scraped into Challenger every season through sheer effort—was what came to mind.

Because of all the blood and sweat I put into that account, it was hard to even think about.

I had tried to search for it but found only a message saying it didn’t exist, much like the contact information of my missing parents and friends.

>> Molilru: I can’t share my nickname. There are circumstances.

“Why not? Why can’t you share? Oh, I get it. Let’s take a wild guess. It’s not that you can’t share; it’s because you don’t have a Challenger account, right? If you’re lying, you can’t use it.”

Sua spoke like she was teasing a little kid.

She was clearly thinking my words were a lie.

Honestly, if I were in her place, I wouldn’t believe someone without proof either.

I could say I had an account, but it was gone.

Even if I explained the truth, she probably wouldn’t believe me.

I didn’t want to share my story with others either.

But I couldn’t back down now.

I needed to get back to playing the game!

At that moment, Sua continued speaking.

“If you’re not a hacker, just prove it, right? Oh, that’s it. Hey, are you listening? If you can’t share your nickname, then find another way to prove it.”

>> Molilru: Another way?

What could there be? If there were something like that, I would have done it a long time ago instead of stumbling around like this.

Nothing immediately came to mind.

Then, Sua suggested something I hadn’t thought about.

“Just stream! You can prove your skills in real-time!”

Streaming—meaning live broadcasting.

Using that as a way to verify I’m not using aimbot.

Typically, this was a method used by talented amateurs or streamers during tournaments to prove their innocence.

Of course, I’d also need a camera to show my hands as proof that I wasn’t using any hacks.

“This is enough for some decent self-promotion. If you’re a real Challenger, you’ll blow up! What’s the matter, I must be a genius.”

[Come on, stream!]

[If you don’t stream, then stop playing, okay? ㅇㅇ]

[Pressure’s on 500 times more]

[This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity]

[Great genius, the holy Sua]

[Should I stream…?]

[Looks good and clean ㅇㅇ]

[Challenger who gets accused of hacking, can’t stop this]

[Are you really going to stream? Liar!]

It seemed like she was just benefiting from all of this, and she couldn’t even imagine me being a hacker.

The viewers’ responses were quite similar, but some probably wondered if I might indeed be a real Challenger.

With this development, it seemed that streaming was the only option left.

It was somewhat tedious, but the simplest and most reliable way was right in front of me.

I could show my gameplay directly and claim it was my real skill.

They say strike the iron while it’s hot.

Now that I had my goal, I decided to end the conversation with Sua and shut down her stream before getting ready to start my own.

But then I realized one crucial fact that I had overlooked.

“Do I even have streaming equipment?”

It wasn’t as simple as just wanting to stream.

*

Though I rummaged through my tiny living space like a rat,

it was obvious there wouldn’t be anything.

Why would Ji-eun, an absolute nobody, have broadcasting equipment?

Instead, she had something else.

Something extremely important in my life that could serve me just as well as any broadcasting gear.

“I guess I have no choice.”

With a sigh, I pulled it out.

The silver check card I took from Ji-eun’s wallet.

It had around 5 million won in it.

I had verified it through the linked internet banking account.

It felt like money that wasn’t mine since I hadn’t used it till now, but I was in no position to worry about that.

To shed the suspicion of hacking, I needed broadcasting equipment ASAP.

I could always return the money later, right?

Somehow… I’ll make sure to pay it back.

I vowed with a determined heart and finalized the purchase for the streaming equipment.

I would pay it back later.

It felt like a risky gambling decision, and all I could do was sigh.

---