LS 76

Dohee kept his mouth shut.

Some people might think about it as simply as Jinhee did. Streaming again isn’t hard. He still had all the equipment. So why not just do it? It was something he used to enjoy.

But it just wasn’t that simple.

Maybe if he actually tried again, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. He had thought that many times, but somehow the words “I’ll do it” never came easily.

Still, hearing people say they wanted it, hearing that someone might still be waiting for him.

Dohee was human too. He felt himself wavering. And before he could reply, Jinhee jumped in again.

— “Wouldn’t it be cool if you streamed the Demon Hunter first clear?”

“…”

— “You’d get a ton of viewers, and it would be a clean way to prove it. For the people who’ve been waiting for you, there’s no better gift.”

Streaming the Demon Hunter first clear… that had never even occurred to him.

When someone clears a new raid dungeon for the first time, the system sends a server-wide announcement.

Something like:

[World][System] The ‘Human’ raid team has successfully achieved the first clear of the dungeon ‘Snow Witch of Vengeance’!

Before entering the dungeon, the team could input a raid name, which would then be etched on the “Adventurer’s Monument” at the dungeon entrance in the order of clears.

In other words, there was no real need to prove anything via livestream.

Dohee finally spoke.

“There’s no real reason I have to stream just to prove anything.”

There was a thump from the other end of the phone, Jinhee slapping his chest in frustration, something he always did when exasperated.

— “Goddamn it, you idiot. That’s not what I meant. Of course you don’t have to stream for proof. The system shows it anyway. What I’m saying is–haa, you fool.”

“What.”

— “People want to see you. They liked watching you stream. Demon Hunter? That’s just an excuse. Don’t pretend you don’t get it.”

Jinhee let out a sigh that sounded like his lungs were burning.

Dohee sighed lightly in return.

Of course he got it. He wasn’t pretending not to.

And he knew Jinhee wasn’t saying all this for no reason, he was worried about him. That’s why Dohee couldn’t bring himself to brush him off.

After a short hesitation, Dohee spoke first.

“Streaming again wouldn’t be hard.”

— “Then just–”

“There are people who want to see me, yeah. But there are also people who don’t. I didn’t stop because of some big reason. I just got tired of being baited, harassed, cursed at all the time. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad now. It’s already been two years. I bet 80% of the people who used to hate me quit already. But still… I’m human too. If something happened once, it could happen again. That thought alone is exhausting.”

Baek Dohee, for a game streamer, had a surprisingly solid fanbase.

He didn’t even play many games, just Sword of God, with a support main that was basically the only one of its kind.

And yet, his subscriber count kept climbing.

Not just support mains but players who liked dye customization, PvP enthusiasts, and even those who simply enjoyed his mundane chatter flocked to him.

Even non-SoGod players came to watch him just for fun.

Before he knew it, his “casual streaming” had grown a decent following.

He began putting effort into content, collaborating with other users like Jinhee and Yapdeuk, and even formed a fixed raid team when he was part of Xeno.

The synergy boosted everything, and subscribers flooded in.

People called him “the streamer I want to keep to myself,” and yet still celebrated when GoingSupporter’s channel became more popular.

Dohee never thought it was all thanks to his skill or popularity.

He figured luck had a hand in it too, and that loyal subscribers who spread the word were a big part of it.

What he really loved… was not feeling alone. He used to feel that way often. But ever since he started streaming, that feeling had no room to exist.

Every day felt the same, but also not.

He was busy keeping up with new updates, experimenting with new dyes or supporter builds, and it was all genuinely fun.

Most of all, he loved the feeling of being loved.

Yapdeuk, GoingSupporter, Yeohoo’s former character BaekssiFox, and Jinhee, all of them had been core members of the Xeno raid team.

When those relationships started to fracture, it hit hard. Not financially, or in subscriber numbers. No, it was emotional.

Maybe “emotional” sounded laughable for someone like Baek Dohee, who always did whatever he pleased. But it hurt.

After the Corrupted Hana clear, when he started getting sidelined in loot priority and subtle disrespect toward supporters reached its peak, he finally snapped on stream.

He swore.

Once it started, it was hard to stop.

People who had never even played a support accused it of being an easy class or made snide remarks like, “You’re just in it for the freebies, huh?”

It felt like all the effort he had poured into raid first clears was being trampled on.

Even now, support mains were rare, but back then, they were even rarer.

High-level supports in upper-tier raids were nearly nonexistent.

Players who had never tried it themselves were easily swayed by public opinion, and the image of supports only got worse.

Standing by and doing nothing was hard. Once a class’s perception tanks, it’s almost impossible to fix.

Supports dealt buffs and debuffs, chipped in some light damage – not quite DPS – and light healing, not quite a healer.

Their synergy came from matching with a good party.

Explaining all that point-by-point left Dohee exhausted.

Sure, the cursing was his fault. He could have held it in.

He could have spoken more calmly.

Maybe if he had, things would have gone differently.

But if he could turn back time…

He knew he still wouldn’t be able to hold it in.

If he hadn’t sworn, if he had calmly listed the supporter’s strengths, if he had just swallowed the unfair treatment.

Would it really have been better? Probably not.

If that footage had shown him silently enduring unfair treatment during a raid, the supports who looked up to him might have faced the same.

That was what he really couldn’t stand. He never asked for recognition. But if he couldn’t be appreciated, then at least he shouldn’t be dismissed.

No class in a game is perfect. If they were, there’d be no need for balance patches. But there should be respect.

Not just in games, in life. You don’t belittle someone else’s effort or passion. That’s basic decency. And that was the part that made Baek Dohee angriest.

In the end, he couldn’t hold back, and he accepted that with that came backlash and hate.

At first, he told himself it was fine.

He was popular, with lots of fans, and people talked about him constantly. But the weight of it all eventually wore him down.

He didn’t expect it to come back and bite him like that. Yapdeuk had a subscriber count close to his.

Their names often appeared side by side on trending lists and recommended streams.

Dohee didn’t remember it all clearly, but Yapdeuk had his share of obsessive fans too.

Maybe that’s why…

After that live stream, Baek Dohee was buried in hate, trolling, and harassment for a long time.

The word “harassed” was the only way to describe it.

He always thought he had high self-esteem, that he didn’t care what people thought.

But that wasn’t true. He liked being loved. He liked being noticed.

He was just a typical person, filling the emptiness in his heart through communication with others.

He thought he knew himself well, but it turned out he had lived all this time clueless. Telling himself “It’s fine, it’s fine” didn’t fix anything. By the time he opened his eyes to reality, he had already been pushed to the edge.

One more step back, and he would’ve fallen.

When the comment sections were filled more with “Quit already,” “Stop dragging supports down,” “You’re not even entertaining,” “You’re so annoying,” than with “I support you,” “I love you,” “You’re amazing,” “You’re fun”.

That’s when Dohee made his choice. To run. To turn away. Better to survive than fall into the abyss. That was all it was. He couldn’t overcome it.

Fighting back with strength and rising above adversity, that only happened in shounen manga. This wasn’t a story.

To keep streaming while being cursed out by thousands was a fantasy. And even now, Baek Dohee still believes that. Ironically, once GoingSupporter quit streaming and went dark, all the hate and criticism washed away like it had never existed.

Pointing fingers was easy. Forgetting was even easier. And the only people left were the ones who missed him.

Even knowing all of that, Dohee still couldn’t bring himself to say “I’ll start streaming again.” Because trauma doesn’t just disappear. That doesn’t mean he regrets it.

Even if he could go back in time, the same things would probably happen again.

All he’d really learned in the past few years…was how to accept everything that had happened with a calm heart.