Chapter 6: Crisis comes as an opportunity

It wasn’t that I had never made a girl cry.

Whether it was intentional or not, I was someone who had a history of making girls cry.

My friends would always tease me, asking if I made another girl cry, and some even said they’d never met someone as lacking in empathy as me.

Why are they crying? I hadn’t done anything that bad.

Every time a girl cried in front of me, I had those small doubts.

In any case, a girl’s tears weren’t something I experienced often, but they weren’t entirely new to me either.

However, just because I was familiar with it didn’t mean I knew how to handle it.

No matter how many times I experienced it, the discomfort I felt when a girl cried never became easier to manage.

“Huuuh, you… you jerk! Huuuuh.”

Sua was sobbing and sniffling pitifully on the screen.

The viewers who had been busy teasing her just moments ago now suddenly changed their tone as if nothing had happened.

[Oh no, this is bad!]

[You can’t win against tears lol]

[Molu teacher, quickly apologize!]

[Molu doesn’t get it, huh?]

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

[This is a lifetime achievement lol]

[Typical tough guy behavior: teasing until a girl cries]

[Molu, the head of the male solidarity movement, wins again]

[Isn’t Molu the one who lost here?]

[This was a battle he could never win from the start]

No, you guys were the ones teasing her.

I didn’t do anything.

I let out a hollow laugh at their quick change of attitude.

The only thing I did was intentionally kill Sua in the game.

Most of the reason she was crying was probably because of the chat’s mockery.

“Sniff… You guys are worse. Isn’t that right? Yeah, both of you are just as bad.”

Sua sniffled and blew her nose, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Her eyes were red and swollen, making her look pitiful.

At that moment, a notification sound played, followed by a mechanical voice on the stream.

<SuaKnightCommander has donated 10,000 won!>

-If you feel sorry for Sua, let’s all shout “Sorry SuaSua!” together.

It was a donation, where a viewer sends money to a streamer along with a message.

If the streamer doesn’t turn down the volume on the donation sounds, the message is broadcast through mechanical speech, acting as a loudspeaker.

The donation’s effect, coming at the perfect timing, was excellent.

[Lol, yeah, it’s our fault]

[Sorry SuaSua!]

[Sorry SwaSwa!]

[Not sorry at all]

[Sorry, sorry! Sorry, sorry!]

The situation flipped in an instant.

Though there were a few strange messages, most of the chat was now apologizing to Sua.

Crossing her arms, Sua watched the chat with a smug expression, gesturing as if telling them to keep going.

Should I apologize too?

The question didn’t last long.

Since everyone else was apologizing, I couldn’t avoid stepping in as the one who directly caused Sua to cry.

Even if it was done to clear my name from the hacking accusation.

>>Molilru: SuaSua, I’m sorry.

I used the in-game whisper feature, which allows players to send private messages.

With over 5,000 viewers watching the stream, I figured my message would get lost in the chat, so I sent it through the game.

The effect was immediate.

“You psycho! I told you not to do that!”

Upon seeing my message, Sua gritted her teeth and shouted.

She seemed even angrier now—maybe I shouldn’t have apologized?

Women’s emotions really are hard to understand.

The chat responded with comments like “What a bold move,” “At least he’s sweet for worrying about her,” and “He may lack empathy, but he seems like a good guy.”

“…Fine, just don’t do it again. You did it because you’re a fan, right? But it was still too much.”

Sua seemed to calm down a bit. She uncrossed her arms and sagged, exhausted from all the yelling.

Apologizing was clearly the right choice. My father always said that most human relationships can be resolved through conversation.

As I was nodding in agreement with that thought, a statement I couldn’t ignore caught my attention.

“And don’t use hacks. Even if you’re not that skilled, you should play the game fair and square.”

>>Molilru: I wasn’t hacking though?

I whispered back before she even finished her sentence.

I had almost forgotten the reason behind all of this—my enjoyment of targeting streamers in games.

It was Sua who had framed me as a hacker.

Most of the players who dodged games with me in the draft lobby probably watched her stream.

If I could clear my name on her stream, all of this could be resolved.

But Sua scoffed, clearly not believing me.

“Oh, don’t lie. This is your first ranked season, right? Even if your main account was Challenger, come on.”

>>Molilru: Yes.

“Then show me your username. I want to see what rank you are in Challenger.”

When Sua told me to reveal my username, I couldn’t respond.

My original account—the one I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into, barely reaching Challenger every season despite my declining skills—came to mind.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to recover it.

But just like my missing parents’ and friends’ contact information, my original account showed up as if it had never existed.

>>Molilru: I can’t show my username. I have my reasons.

“Why not? Why can’t you show it? Oh, I know.

Let me guess. It’s not that you can’t show it, it’s that you don’t have a Challenger account, right? Lying is bad, you know.”

Sua dragged out her words, teasing me like a child.

She clearly thought I was lying.

To be fair, I wouldn’t have believed someone without proof either.

My account was gone.

Even if I told her the truth, it wasn’t something anyone could easily believe.

And I didn’t want to share my sob story with anyone anyway.

But I couldn’t back down now.

I needed to start another game right away.

At that moment, Sua continued.

“If you’re really not using hacks, then just prove it, right?

Oh, that’s right. Are you listening? If you can’t reveal your username, then you can prove it another way.”

>>Molilru: Another way?

What could that be? If there was such a method, I would’ve done it already. There was no need to drag this out any longer.

Nothing immediately came to mind.

Sua’s suggestion that followed was something I hadn’t even considered.

“Just start streaming. You can prove your skills live.”

Streaming, in other words, live broadcasting.

It was a method used to prove one’s innocence, especially by skilled amateurs or streamers participating in competitions.

In addition, I’d need a hand camera to prove that I wasn’t using any cheat programs.

“This could be a great promotion. If you’re really a Challenger, your stream could blow up. Wow, I’m a genius.”

[Just start the stream!]

[If you’re not going to stream, admit you’re hacking.]

[500 times the pressure.]

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

[The genius, Queen Sua.]

[You gotta stream, right?]

[This is neat.]

[A Challenger player suspected of hacking? This is huge.]

[There’s no way he’ll stream. He’s obviously hacking.]

Sua spoke as if she were doing me a favor, clearly not believing I wasn’t hacking.

The viewers’ reactions weren’t much different, though some seemed to think I might actually be a Challenger.

At this point, streaming was my only option.

It was a bit troublesome, but it was the simplest and most certain way.

It would allow me to show my gameplay directly and prove that it was all my own skill.

They say to strike while the iron is hot.

With my goal set, I ended the conversation with Sua and closed her stream, immediately preparing to start my own.

Then I realized something I had overlooked.

“Wait… do I even have the equipment for streaming?”

Streaming wasn’t something you could just do because you wanted to.

I searched my small house thoroughly, but of course, I didn’t have the necessary equipment.

Why would Ji-eun, a regular person, have streaming gear?

But Ji-eun did have something else.

Something very important for my life at this moment, as crucial as streaming equipment.

“Guess I have no choice.”

I sighed and pulled it out.

It was Ji-eun’s silver check card, taken from her wallet.

It had about 5 million won (around $4,000) in it.

I had verified the balance through the linked Internet banking account.

I hadn’t used it because it didn’t feel like my money, but right now, I had no choice but to use it.

I needed streaming equipment to clear myself of the hacking accusation.

I figured I could return the money later, somehow.

I resolved to put it back eventually and purchased the streaming equipment.

“I’ll pay it back.”

It felt like a gambler’s promise, and I could only sigh at myself.