LS 99

“…What?”

What kind of bullshit was this now? Dohee’s face twisted in a scowl. His head was starting to throb.

After the Corrupted Hana incident, things had fallen apart with Kim Hawon, and they eventually cut ties altogether. But before that, it wasn’t like they had a bad relationship. There wasn’t even anything worth being jealous about. They were both first-wave open beta players, and while they’d started playing SoGod around the same time, it was Yapdeuk who began streaming first. Dohee had only gotten to know him because there weren’t many SoGod streamers at the time, and among them, Yapdeuk had gained a fair amount of popularity.

Even after Dohee started streaming and grew close to Yapdeuk, the latter always had more subscribers. Their live viewer counts were similar – they’d sometimes compete on real-time rankings – but Yapdeuk still had more long-time fans and earned more donations. Dohee had assumed that losing the public opinion battle during the support class controversy was just because of that. But now Jinhee was telling him that wasn’t the case.

He didn’t know what to make of this unexpected revelation. Pressing his temple, which throbbed with pain, Dohee spoke.

“What are you talking about? You know we got along.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jinhee’s voice was firm.

“You did get along. You and him. But relationships are weird, Dohee. Wouldn’t it be great if both sides always felt the same way? But that’s exactly why things get messy.”

“…”

“I bet others besides me noticed it too, that he had this low-key inferiority complex toward you. Back then, you two were always hanging out, so I wasn’t sure either. But after I heard this latest thing? I was just… done. Seriously. The whole ‘he hated support players leeching XP’ thing? That was all just an excuse. He just hated seeing you do well. He was waiting for a reason to go after you.”

Jinhee had worked himself into a huff. Dohee just stared, dazed, and asked quietly,

“…Why?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why? He had more subscribers, more live viewers, more long-time fans, better Nutube views. It’s not like he sucked at the game either. So… why?”

He genuinely didn’t get it.

It had never once occurred to him to think in that direction. Dohee had never felt inferior to someone else. To be honest, maybe it was more accurate to say he’d never had the time for feelings like that.

He might have seemed like someone who coasted through life, but Baek Dohee had always worked hard at everything. He lived with intensity. Whenever he started something, he gave it his all. He was always so focused on moving forward that he didn’t have time to look around.

Sure, he’d admit it: he wasn’t great at noticing how other people felt. Even as a kid, Yeohoo and Yeojin had sometimes told him he could be a bit cold or thoughtless. Try paying attention to others. Try thinking about how they feel. He’d just scoffed or laughed it off. He was so exhausted from the attention he got that he didn’t want to pay any to others.

Now that he thought about it, he really was selfish to an absurd degree.

He wanted love and attention but didn’t want too much of it. He didn’t want to have to care about others, either. Was this his punishment for being that way? Or was the universe mocking him for thinking life would be easy?

His emotions were a mess. Anger surged up to the top of his head, only to leave his chest feeling hollow. He didn’t even know what to call this feeling. An inferiority complex? Kim Hawon? He never noticed any of it. He was mad Dohee did well? Why? Weren’t they helping each other out, building synergy together? What about all those nights sharing drinks and talking about their lives?

His head was suddenly crowded with memories.

Jinhee, lips parting as if to say something, just let out a deep sigh and spoke with a bitter look on her face.

“People with more to lose tend to be more afraid.”

“…”

“I mean, for me, SoGod wasn’t even my main game, so I never really felt any sense of competition. But you? You were. You were both focused on SoGod, and your subscriber count shot up really fast. Even though he uploaded more Nutube videos, yours hit big more often. Your real-time live rankings were solid. At some point, he must’ve started comparing himself to you. You know how I realized? One day, he said something to me.”

“What’d he say?”

“Something like, ‘Right now Dohee only streams with a hand-cam, but if he ever shows his face, he’ll probably become way more popular than me. Must be nice being good-looking too.’”

“….”

“He said it as a joke, smiling, but it hit me. Ah, ‘Kim Hawon has a complex about Baek Dohee’. He told me you were lucky, too. That your class was rare, your skills were good, and you just happened to hit it big faster. But all I could think was: this guy really resents you.”

“…Ha.”

A laugh escaped, short and bitter. He never once suspected it. Jinhee downed the last of his coffee like water, then licked his lips and went on.

“You’re usually so perceptive. I figured maybe you’d already sensed it… Guess not. Either he hid it really well, or you two were just that close, and it never even crossed your mind.”

He scratched his head, eyeing him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He meant it. It was better to know. Some people might rather not, but Dohee wasn’t one of them. If Jinhee hadn’t told him, he might really have gone his whole life never knowing. Even though the support class debate had torn them apart, Dohee had never really hated Kim Hawon. They’d fought over the full clear simply because he couldn’t stand the idea of losing to someone who looked down on his class.

That was all. That was everything.

If Jinhee hadn’t spoken up, he probably would’ve gone on telling himself, Yeah, he had a temper, but he wasn’t a bad guy.

“Really. Thanks for telling me.”

“…Glad you see it that way. I was worried I’d just seem like I was trying to start drama.”

“Drama? As if. Like we even have a relationship left to stir up.”

Dohee let out a dry chuckle.

So that was it. It finally all made sense.

The relentless wave of hate comments and trolls. The live chat that never calmed down. The way it immediately stopped once he quit streaming.

That was all… yeah. That’s what it was.

A strange, hollow feeling washed over him. He wasn’t even angry anymore. That time had passed. Knowing now didn’t change anything. It was over. Dohee let out a soft sigh.

Inside, everything felt so loud.

💎

He had dinner with Jinhee.

He turned down his offer to get drinks and instead headed to the internet café where Moonhyuk was working. When his mood crashed like this, ridiculously enough, the first person that came to mind was Moonhyuk.

And he really wanted to see him.

As soon as he stepped into the café, their eyes met. Moonhyuk’s blank expression broke into a smile, and in that split second, Dohee felt glad he’d ditched Jinhee and come here instead. The thorny feeling in his chest melted almost instantly.

Moonhyuk brought him a free iced Americano using his employee privileges and asked if he’d eaten dinner. Who was worrying about who here?

“I ate well. What about you, hyung?”

“Me? Just… cup noodles.”

“Why? Why didn’t you eat real food? Don’t they have fried rice or something here?”

“Just…”

“Just?”

“I didn’t have an appetite… I ended up throwing out half of it.”

Moonhyuk looked totally downcast as he said it. Dohee vowed then and there: I will eat dinner with him every day, no matter what.

At the same time, he felt a bit happy. Moonhyuk could eat two bowls when they ate together, but without him, he couldn’t even finish cup noodles. It was silly to be happy about something like that, but, well, what could he do?

Since it was a weekday, the internet café quieted down after midnight. Dohee logged in and ran Moonhyuk through some hunts himself. Level 130 was just around the corner. The Demon Hunter update was less than five days away. On the weekend, they’d run one last raid with the guild to sync up. It was time to push hard.

Watching his little support sapling – well, no longer little – grind diligently and gain EXP by his side filled Dohee with pride. Everything about Moonhyuk was precious now. There was no point pretending otherwise. Just watching him walk around made Dohee proud.

They were finally alone, enjoying a quiet hunt together, but every now and then, thoughts of Kim Hawon crept in.

It was already a given that they’d be competing with Xeno for the Demon Hunter full clear. There was no way he was giving it up. At first, he’d told himself “Whatever, it’s just a title,” but not anymore. No way he was letting Xeno and Kim Hawon have it.

He wasn’t angry. But he was insulted. And those were two different things.

Xeno’s full clear was one thing. Kim Hawon was another. But Dohee had already begun thinking about how to make sure Kim Hawon got what he deserved.