Chapter 12: “You Can’t Be Satisfied with the First Bite”

Ego search.

The act of searching for your name or a similar nickname on social media or other internet sites.

It’s something usually done by public figures or celebrities who have gained a certain level of recognition, but the exact reason for doing it isn’t well understood.

It could be to get an objective evaluation, to check one’s reputation, or simply out of boredom.

Ultimately, the reason varies because we’re all different. We were born unique.

However, there was one person who knew exactly why they ego searched.

Someone who couldn’t contain their inherent attention-seeking tendencies, who, despite being shy, always created a stir.

Someone calculated yet smart.

This person, who could be described with all sorts of adjectives, had a habit of occasionally searching for “CamillaIsWeak,” “Kayak,” or “Camilla” in the gallery.

Yes, why pretend otherwise? That person was me.

“Hmm…”

It was a rather habitual routine.

It was the day after filming with Taker ended.

While having a short meal and looking for something to watch, I unconsciously headed toward the Abyss Gallery.

In truth, it was a site that felt like home to me.

You might wonder how a mere community site could feel like home, but that’s exactly how I felt.

Well, how I used to feel. That feeling is no more.

Let’s briefly look back at the past.

The day I became a girl who looked exactly like Camilla, and simultaneously, the world flipped upside down, the first thing I did was access the Abyss Gallery.

It’s not like I planned to post something ridiculous like, “I suddenly turned into Camilla, legendary LOL.”

I was just anxious, though I pretended not to be.

How could I not be anxious when the world had turned upside down overnight?

Just as animals head to shelter when a natural disaster approaches, or people seek comfort by returning home after a difficult ordeal, for me, Abyss Gallery was my mental refuge.

So, the moment I became a girl for the first time and realized this wasn’t a dream, I logged onto the gallery.

And I faced it.

A site that had transformed, just like me.

A sigh escaped me.

It was like a young adult returning to their hometown after a long time, only to find it completely changed.

That feeling was utterly wretched, fearful even.

So, I hastily closed the gallery as if fleeing.

I never logged in again after that.

Now, for the first time in a long while, I found myself there again.

Without realizing it, I had entered the site for a quick glance.

This time, there was no intent to run.

Unlike the confusion I felt on that first day, I had already somewhat adapted to the changes.

The gallery I returned to hadn’t changed in a bad way.

It felt like a once deserted village had suddenly developed into a grand metropolis.

Instead of the musty yet familiar scent of my hometown, what greeted me was the grandeur of a city.

“Tips for new players getting into the game Ver. 8.0.”

“Just carried my team in a casual game LOL.”

“Stop playing Miriam below Gold rank, please.”

It wasn’t… that bad.

The gallery, once stagnant with maybe one post per hour, now felt more alive—like a gallery where real people existed.

In the past, it had been bleak.

Like a dead community where you just kept seeing the same few people over and over again.

“Tips for new players… Still there, huh.”

Finding old memories in a place that had changed was its own kind of fun.

I wondered if this guide, which had gone through numerous revisions, was the one I had originally written.

I remembered updating it to Version 2.0, but now…

After that, someone had continued writing, keeping the guide alive.

It was a relief.

“Hmm.”

The newbie tips guide was pinned to the top of the announcements.

I felt a slight sense of pride, like a craftsman who had passed down their skills to the next generation.

It was like finally getting recognition after all this time.

Back then, I had only hoped the game wouldn’t die out, never imagining it would thrive like this.

All of it.

The fear I felt when I first fled from the unfamiliar community seemed pointless now, as I found myself deeply entertained, reading through post after post.

Newbies seeking advice, random trolls with unclear motives, rank certifications, even discussions about streamer GoldCup.

Dopamine. Dopamine was flooding in…

Caught up in the pure joy of the community, I couldn’t snap out of it for a while.

“Ah.”

Then I remembered the original reason I came here and slowly moved the mouse to the search bar.

I had logged onto the site to search for my name, but I had forgotten and gotten completely absorbed in everything else.

However, there was no need for me to search for “Kayak” or “CamillaIsWeak” in the search bar.

Because right in front of me, there was a post with my nickname.

“Kayak, start your stream already!”

It was like the saying, “I did hit the person, but I didn’t expect them to die.”

No, that sounds too criminal.

Forget it, I’ll just move on; as long as the feeling is conveyed, it’s fine.

Anyway, it was something like that.

I had planned things to some extent, but I hadn’t anticipated this level of impact.

Really, I hadn’t.

By this point, I’d read through all the posts in the gallery, starting with the recent popular posts, then focusing on everything related to me.

Of course, not all the comments were nice.

There were some negative ones.

But…

“They’re calling me the gallery master… haha…”

Most of the reactions were positive, which first surprised me, and then made me laugh.

I mean, isn’t it funny?

They were calling me the gallery’s queen or even the gallery itself.

And, technically, they weren’t wrong, which made it even funnier.

“Kayak, start your stream already!”

These were the posts people who liked me were repeatedly putting up.

The message was clear—they wanted me to start streaming.

I did intentionally reveal myself on Taker’s stream, but I didn’t expect this many people to remember me.

At most, I thought the reaction would be something like, “Who’s that Camilla? She’s pretty good.”

I imagined when I eventually started streaming, I might hear something like, “Oh, this is that person from back then.”

I hadn’t realized that all these posts had been going up about me without my knowledge.

It was overwhelming to see such strong reactions, yet… I was happy.

I was happy that people still remembered that outrageous stunt I pulled back then, treating me like an OG, and encouraging me to stream again.

Seeing so many people—people I didn’t even know—wanting me to stream made my shoulders lift a little, even though I didn’t think I was the type to be easily swayed by others.

Without realizing it, I was starting to feel proud, and that made me decide to start my stream earlier than planned.

Originally, I was going to stream tomorrow evening, but I suppose starting a little sooner wouldn’t hurt.

“Maybe I should leave a post.”

I mean, it’d be a bit awkward if I started streaming and no one showed up, right?

And so, I used a rather shady trick that I hadn’t employed in a while.

It wasn’t really allowed, but promotion was a serious matter.

Honestly, it’s fine as long as you don’t get caught.

I turned on the pre-set stream and quickly posted something.

“<ᄋᄋ(113.39) Kayak started streaming! ᄃᄃᄃ Go to Twitch and search Kayak ᄀ>”

For a moment, I became an overseas resident, then returned to Korea.

A temporary account, not my usual fixed nickname from the gallery.

This was a technique that anyone who had spent a fair amount of time in the gallery had inevitably learned.

It was called the “Temporary Account Clone Technique.”

“Why isn’t anyone coming…?”

I muttered out loud without realizing it, and then quickly shut my mouth in surprise.

It had already been 10 minutes.

I had taken the plunge and started streaming, but five minutes passed, then ten, and still, not a single viewer had joined.

Zero.

I just blinked, staring at that ever-present number: 0.

Well, things don’t work out that easily, do they?

There was no way a stroke of luck would bring dozens, maybe even hundreds of viewers to my stream just because I started it.

Besides, my fame was only half-baked.

I had streamed briefly before, met the streamer Nicang in Abyss, appeared on Taker’s show, and, lastly, gained some notoriety in the gallery.

Actually, now that I list it out, it’s quite a lot.

So why wasn’t anyone coming?

Even my big, risky move of committing a “crime” in the gallery didn’t seem to have any effect.

I had taken a bold step, but it seemed to be in vain, which was disappointing.

“Guess I’ll just play a game.”

Muttering that, I queued up for a game.

I had planned to chat with the viewers a bit before playing, so that if anyone joined mid-game, I wouldn’t be too distracted to talk.

But, as always, life doesn’t go as planned.

Without the ability to talk endlessly like professional streamers, all I could do was play the game.

Maybe someone would join while I was playing.

If someone did, I’d talk then.

If no one came… well, I could just try again tomorrow.

Eventually, people would show up.

After all, you can’t expect success from the very start.

However, contrary to her resolve, it didn’t take long for viewers to flood into Muna’s stream.

[Kayak! Kayak! Kayak! Kayak! Kayak! Kayak!]

[The Kayak who started streaming to protect the gallery….]

[Just worshipping the goat here.]

[Here to see how good she is.]

[Why isn’t this person talking?]

[She used to be no-cam, no-mic before, looks like it’s the same now.]

[At least turn on the mic….]

The news had spread back to the gallery because someone who saw Muna’s post and tuned into the stream immediately reported it back.

“Ah, too bad, I almost got that kill.”

But Muna, still unaware of this, kept playing her game in silence, not checking the chat.

The microphone she had prepared for the stream was still off.