Chapter 10: “When Buckwheat Blooms” and the Suffering Viewers

Some entertainer once said,

“Everything that falls has wings.”

Because falling is a result of flight.

Who the hell said that?

If I could, I’d shove his face in front of my screen and show him this.

[You have been demoted to Yellow Rank 3 in solo/duo ranked games.]

When did I ever soar?

[This doesn’t look good…]

[Replay ON]

[Host doesn’t seem to be in good condition.]

[Losing 12 games in a row, lololololol]

[Take it easy.]

[Bad luck with the team for sure.]

[KDA is still intact despite the mess. Is this a sage?]

[Currently Yellow Rank 1, but host’s play seems off.]

[Their game-reading skills are great, but why is their control so bad…?]

[Let’s quit the game and move to voice chat.]

“…One moment, please.”

Even though my fingers trembled from the consecutive losses and another demotion, I held myself together.

Despite the anger boiling inside me, I forced myself to keep calm.

After all, a “saintess” doesn’t lose her temper.

Then, I muted my mic.

“Dammitttttt!!!!!!!”

Me? Yellow 3?

I can’t accept it.

This must be someone’s conspiracy.

A trick of the gods!

Yelling didn’t change a thing, though.

I just caught a glimpse of the “saintess” in a cracked mirror at the corner of my room, noticing yet again how much her crude cursing didn’t match her delicate face and body.

What the hell is the problem?

My period? It’s been days now, almost over.

The viewers? Those who used to get under my skin have long since been banned or buried under others, leaving only those who praise every little thing I do.

I turned the mic back on.

“I’ll play another game…”

I glanced at the chat, where a few trolls were starting to make noise, sensing an opportunity.

The critiques ranged from mild confusion over my gameplay to accusations of being bad, using hacks all along, or even speculation that I’d brought in my sister or a friend to play as me.

The last bit—that I was streaming under someone else’s name—was plausible enough that a few viewers were even buying into it.

I couldn’t even be mad.

If I were in their shoes, I’d probably be suspicious too.

If there was a streamer who hadn’t played for almost a month, bought a mic, and started losing 12 games in a row with a female voice, I’d be pointing fingers too, calling them a faker.

Calm down.

Let’s keep calm.

I’ve played this game for ten years, after all.

Even though I’ve spent all that time stuck in Yellow Rank 1 with my highest rank being a mere Orange 150, I’m not the kind to fall all the way to Yellow 3.

No need to explain myself.

I just have to prove it with skill.

I queued up for the next match.

Checked my usual trait build.

Entered the game.

“I’m definitely winning this time.”

Everyone’s going down.

This time, I’m dead serious.

[Match has ended. Red Team, the Empire of Astaroth, has claimed victory!]

[The Sephirot Empire will disappear from this continent alongside the shattered World Tree.]

[‘Gyeonhwon (Taejo Wang Geon)’ has donated 1,000 won! “Lost again!”]

[lolololol]

[“I’m definitely winning this time.” (something she actually said)]

[This is pure treason, lmao]

[Call 119!!! Call 119!!! There’s a fire in her match history!!!]

[Losing streak of 13? That’s rough.]

[Where’d that insane aim go…?]

[You don’t have to play nice for any catfishers. Live your own life!]

[Love it when she’s all sulky.]

[Hey, stop playing that trash game and get on voice chat! Stop playing that trash game and get on voice chat! Stop playing that trash game and get on voice chat! Stop playing that trash game and get on voice chat!]

[What the hell is “voice chat,” you weeb?]

[It’s a magical content idea where the host doesn’t get stressed, and we all get to enjoy the game without the risk of getting cancer from watching her gameplay.]

[Host, wanna try the Eloheim Priest build?]

I wasn’t even angry anymore.

After all, this time, I had definitely lost the game due to my own mistake, right after boasting so confidently.

At a critical moment in the late game when the outcome was about to be decided, my aim slipped, and the saintess’s healing restored the enemy tank’s health to full, which ruined the game.

Of course, my teammates were furious, and even the viewers weren’t defending me.

Not a single “You did well” comment popped up in the chat.

I wanted to die from embarrassment.

I have to break this losing streak.

With a single-minded determination bordering on obsession, I queued up for the next game.

I could see the viewers raising a commotion, but I didn’t care.

I needed to escape this humiliating Yellow 3 rank as soon as possible.

The matchmaking took less than 20 seconds.

Without hesitation, I hit the accept button.

[Player ‘Dootdoot’ has joined the room.]

[Player ‘DilucZhongliTartagliaAlbedo’ has joined the room.]

[Player ‘NightoftheTwentyFifth’ has joined the room.]

[Player ‘Saintess’ has joined the room.]

[Player ‘RunRunWitch’ has joined the room.]

[Player ‘OneShotOneKill’ has joined the room.]

[RunRunWitch: Hello]

[OneShotOneKill: ?]

[DilucZhongliTartagliaAlbedo: lol]

[Dootdoot: lol carry us]

[OneShotOneKill: NightoftheTwentyFifth… you’re Yellow 4, with 0 points…]

[NightoftheTwentyFifth: So what?]

[OneShotOneKill: You’re dead… ^^]

[NightoftheTwentyFifth: What are you saying, are you crazy?]

[RunRunWitch: We haven’t even started and you’re already fighting, lol]

[Saintess: .]

Just how far had I fallen?

Without a second thought, I dodged the game.

“Sigh…”

Seeing trolls like OneShotOneKill, who would lose their minds at the sight of Yellow 4 or Green 1 players on either team, meant I had dropped that far.

Once the initial heat and drive had been extinguished by external factors, all that remained was an awkward vibe in the chat and a strange sense of post-game clarity that I’d never experienced in this body.

With the storm of intense emotions passing, a cool-headed rationality settled in, and my unnecessarily sharp mind began to naturally explain why things had come to this point.

This new body of mine was too perfect.

Incredible eyesight.

Reflexes that bordered on precognition.

Unwavering focus.

And reaction speed that would humble even wild animals.

Every one of these attributes could shine in this game, Rainbow Tales.

I had the insight to see through opponents’ moves and strategies.

Physical prowess that surpassed most cheaters.

And ten years’ worth of encyclopedic knowledge in my head.

In theory, I should have been able to reach not just Orange but surpass Red and achieve Rainbow rank.

The problem was that I wasn’t used to this new body.

Just like how I kept stumbling with these unfamiliar, longer legs, I couldn’t yet control all the new parts of this body.

What am I trying to say?

I was disabled.

Or rather, I had been disabled.

In recent times, especially online, terms like “crippled” or “broken” are often used as slurs to insult, but in my case, I was genuinely, literally disabled.

A severed nerve had left me unable to use four fingers on my left hand and three on my right.

I couldn’t help but flinch when a viewer joked, “Is the host using the hunt-and-peck typing method?”

Because, in fact, I was really typing with just my two index fingers.

There was no reason to be hurt or pitied.

If I’d been born this way, I could’ve blamed my parents, but it was my own fault.

Anyway, it had been almost ten years since I became like this.

For over 3,000 days, I tried everything, but those fingers had remained still as stone.

But now, they were wriggling around like live fish in this new body.

For me, it was maddening.

My poor performance stemmed from that—these unfamiliar, barely controlled finger movements.

I could definitely understand the direction and force of the blade headed for my character.

So, I’d try to parry with the secondary weapon, the mace, which I hadn’t used much before.

But my fingers fumbled, pressing the wrong key or even two or three keys at once, resulting in me stupidly getting hit by attacks I’d anticipated.

Or I’d predict the direction in which my teammate, who was in the thick of battle, would move.

I’d assess the incoming damage, factoring in the opponent’s equipment, stance, exerted force, and mana, and calculate the most efficient heal I could manage with my remaining mana.

But then I’d struggle with inputting the commands to adjust the healing amount.

Or the extra force from three fingers I hadn’t used before would make the mouse move more, causing my aim to miss.

All these issues related to my fingers.

I couldn’t exactly cut off my fingers just to play better, so I had no choice but to get used to this body somehow.

After some thought, I closed the Rainbow Tales client.

With the dodge penalty, I couldn’t queue up for a match immediately, and now that I had identified the issues with my body, I was determined to find a solution.

The chat instantly became lively.

Comments popped up, with people expressing relief at finally escaping that hell and others eagerly asking questions, wanting to interact.

As if to show them something impressive, I opened Hangul Typing Practice.

“So, you’re saying you’re short on staff to create new content on the platform itself, right?”

“Yes, we tried something similar last year, but it didn’t go too well. The viewers weren’t thrilled, and one of the winning team members caused a scandal, so we only got flak for it.”

The Berserker Build One-Trick Player—his in-game nickname was Berserker, or Kim Sang-hyun—was speaking to someone for the first time in a while, having turned off both the broadcast and game.

Of course, the call was taking place on Discord.

On the other end was Kang Jun-tae, a commentator who occasionally appeared in official Rainbow Tales pro matches. He had an awkward sense of humor, which made him not very entertaining, but no one could rival him in analyzing game flow. This had earned him the viewer-given nickname “Scholar,” which he even used as his in-game ID.

“We had an internal meeting, and for this second tournament, we decided to organize team selection as an auction.”

“An auction?”

“The streamers acting as team managers will use points to buy players. If one manager declares they want to buy a player for 100 points, other managers can bid higher or choose to save points for other players.”

“Just like a real auction. What if someone spends all their points on just a few players?”

“The number of streamers acting as players is fixed. We plan to have about eight teams, with a total of 48 players coming up for auction in order.”

Kang Jun-tae took a small breath and continued.

“Each manager will get around 1,000 points. If they spend 500 points on two players, they’ll have to make up the remaining four with leftover players that no one else bid on.”

“Interesting.”

“Players who aren’t picked by any manager will go unsold and reappear at the very end of the auction. It should create a fierce competition, making it fun to watch—at least, that was the consensus in the meeting.”

“That does sound interesting. But what do you mean by being short on staff?”

“We’ve recruited streamers to act as team managers, but we still need players. Gathering 48 streamers who broadcast is a bit tricky. Ideally, we want players who are free of any major controversies and have some promotional value, like you, Sang-hyun.”

“Ahem.”

“I mean, even I get teased for being boring, so my credibility in scouting is shaky. That’s why I reached out to you. It’d be amazing if you joined yourself, but even if you’re not interested, I thought you might help introduce some people.”

“I don’t have much going on aside from streaming, so I’d be happy to join if you invite me. But are there any conditions for the other players?”

“Yes, we created a rule to make it more interesting. No team can have two players from the same rank. Since it would be unfair if pro players joined, we’re capping the players’ maximum rank at Orange. Managers will build teams with one player from each rank: Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Purple, as of the tournament announcement date.”

“That’s… definitely intriguing.”

“We currently have about 35 players recruited, but only two of them are Yellow rank. To apply the rule, we need to fill eight spots, so it’s a bit tricky. That’s another reason why I reached out to you.”

“It was driving me crazy.

My poor performance was entirely due to my unfamiliar fingers, which refused to respond in a controlled way.

I could read the direction and strength of the blades aiming for my character, so I tried to parry with the mace—a sub-weapon I normally wouldn’t use.

But my fingers fumbled, pressing the wrong keys or even multiple keys at once, and I’d end up getting hit by attacks I had otherwise predicted.

During team fights, I could anticipate where my teammate would move, estimate the incoming damage based on the opponent’s equipment, posture, effort, and mana, and calculate the most efficient heal I could cast with my remaining mana.

However, I struggled with inputting the commands to control the amount of healing, or my mouse would move too much, causing my aim to miss due to the strength in my unused fingers.

It was just one of many finger-related issues I faced.

I can’t exactly just chop my fingers off, so I’ll have to get used to this body somehow.

After some thought, I closed the Rainbow Tales client.

I couldn’t join any matches due to a dodge penalty, and now that I knew the problem with my body, I was determined to find a solution.

The chat suddenly became lively, with people cheering about escaping from the hellhole, eager to communicate.

To put on a bit of a show, I opened Hancom Typing Practice.

“So, you’re saying there’s a lack of manpower for creating new content on the platform?”

“Yes, we did something similar last year, but the results weren’t great.

The audience reaction was lukewarm, and one of the winning team members caused a controversy, so it ended in a mess.”

The player known as Berserker, Kim Sang-hyun, was finally talking to someone outside of broadcasting and gaming.

Of course, it was a conversation over Discord.

His conversation partner was Kang Joon-tae, an analyst who occasionally appeared in official Rainbow Tales pro matches.

His nickname in-game, “Seonbi” (a term for an upright scholar), was given by viewers due to his serious tone and lack of entertainment value, despite his skill in analyzing the game flow.

“We had an internal meeting and decided to organize teams for the second tournament through an auction format.”

“An auction?”

“Yes, streamers in the role of coaches will use points to buy players.

For example, if one coach bids 100 points for a player, another coach can bid more points to compete, or they can save points for later.

It’s like a real auction.”

“What if they run out of points because they spend too much on a few players?”

“We have a set number of players for each team, around 8 teams.

A total of 48 players will be up for auction one by one.”

Kang Joon-tae took a deep breath and continued.

“Each coach will have around 1,000 points.

Let’s say they buy two players for 500 points each; then, they’ll have no choice but to take the rest from the pool of unselected players who weren’t popular with the coaches.”

“Wow.”

“Players who aren’t picked will be auctioned again at the end, creating intense competition.

We believe it’ll be fun for the audience to watch.”

“Sounds like it.

But you said you’re short on people?”

“We’ve already got the streamers to act as coaches, but we still need players.

It’s a bit tricky finding 48 streamers.

We’d prefer recognizable names who could draw viewers and avoid controversy, like you.”

“Ah.”

“And honestly, as someone who’s mocked for being ‘boring,’ my recommendations alone may not inspire confidence.

That’s why I reached out to you, Sang-hyun.

It’d be great if you could participate, but even if you’re not interested, I’d appreciate any suggestions.”

“Well, I’m not up to much outside of streaming, so count me in.

But don’t expect too much from me on finding others.”

“Can I tell them you’re confirmed, then?”

“Of course.

I wouldn’t let my ‘Berserker’ name miss out on this.”

“Thank you.

I’ll keep you updated on any new developments.”

“Oh, by the way,” Joon-tae continued, “the character nicknamed ‘Saintess’—since you two get paired up often—is that person interested?

It’s a bit awkward for us to reach out to them directly, but I thought you might know them.”

“Huh? That… person?

They don’t usually do voice chat, so they’d be unlikely to participate in team games.”

“I heard that from yesterday, they’ve started using a mic.”

“No way.”

Sang-hyun was adamant.

There was no way.

For ten years, that net-kama had stayed under the radar, typing chat messages too disturbing to look at directly.

No matter what personal transformation they’d gone through, they would never break their persona.

Broadcasting with a male voice now?

Sure, they had toned down their lewd remarks and were even using a sub-weapon lately, but they were still “Saintess” at the core.

After ending the Discord call, Sang-hyun couldn’t contain his curiosity and typed “Saintess” into the search bar.

He found her live broadcast immediately, titled “Training.”

What training?

This gamer wouldn’t be streaming anything other than Rainbow Tales.

He entered the stream, and a voice started to play.

“A festival is… in the middle of the sky… yet the market is already… huh, deserted.

The hot afternoon sun spreads over the exhibition…

Back in the village, almost everyone has gone…”

The voice was exquisite, a pure, sweet tone he had never experienced before.

It caressed his ears, fading too soon, and he already missed it, wanting to hear it forever.

The chat was in chaos:

[Someone, save me from this!]

[Is this some new form of torture?]

[This is a cyber torture stream.]

[Was looking for some serious gameplay but found this instead.]

[Her voice is amazing… but also… why?]

[Older sister, read my chat…]

[Back in my day, Cheongsando was standard practice.]

[Anyone else here know Hancom Typing Practice? Ah, the good old days.]

[My spirit is broken but my heart is singing.]

[Can’t believe this is real—less than 100 WPM.]

Sang-hyun’s head spun, overwhelmed by the contrast of her delicate, unfamiliar voice reading out “When Buckwheat Blooms” with her chat’s frantic reactions, barely able to look away, maintaining a viewer count of 150.