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Malicious Sniping Stream (18)
It had been a week since I delayed signing the contract with Cheongseol MCN.
They had acted like they’d be my soul’s partner, so why hadn’t I signed yet?
Simple.
The CEO of Cheongseol MCN, Kang Do-kyun, had said:
“You can sign after the ads are finalized.”
Honestly, what a ridiculous company.
Reading through the contract word for word so that the streamer doesn’t get the short end—that much I could chalk up as a gesture of trust.
But to say they’d secure the ads even if I didn’t sign with them? That felt less like trust and more like emotional nonsense.
‘That’s why I need to check for myself.’
If this MCN is the type to cling onto me like a mosquito, then that’s a problem.
“Welcome, Sphinx. Please look around freely, I’ll have the materials ready shortly.”
As expected of a new MCN, both the CEO and staff were buzzing with activity.
—“Yeah, if you do it this way, there’s no way you can lose, right? It’s a guaranteed carry!”
…Wait, they’re working, right?
All the staff were watching livestreams.
“We’re scouting new streamers to join us. Before a contract, we test how audiences respond by checking chat logs. Turns out it’s very effective.”
“…Are you saying what you did with me became your standard manual?”
“Yes. In fact, I believe it was thanks to that process you came here today.”
The vibe was different now.
Last week, he seemed cautious around me. Now he spoke openly, like we were long-time business partners.
And instead of being off-putting… something about it actually intrigued me.
“Confident, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t this what you like? Confidence.”
Ha… this guy. He knows me too well.
“Come this way. Before we talk ads, I’ve prepared a gift.”
Gift? We haven’t even signed yet, and he keeps giving me things?
I followed Kang Do-kyun to a corner, where something unusual caught my eye.
‘What the… is that?’
A pyramid made of stacked lunchboxes and empty cola cans.
And sitting cross-legged with a hunched neck, emanating a potent body odor… a woman.
‘…Wow. Just how skilled must she be for the CEO to keep her here?’
No sane boss would let a hikikomori like this stay otherwise.
“Let me introduce you. This is Editor Miso.”
“Uh… h-hello.”
Apparently embarrassed, Miso hurriedly sprayed deodorizer around.
This was… not the image I had in mind.
“Video’s ready. Take a look.”
She wheeled her chair aside, showing me the screen.
A video? Ah, so this is the so-called gift.
Let’s see.
The vertical format suggested it was a Shorts video.
I pressed play, and a familiar anime-style OST rang in my ears.
Insert song: Justice Realized.
—“Malicious Strength Ranking: Victims of Sphinx.”
‘…Strength ranking? What the hell?’
Legend of Heroes cutscenes flashed by, followed by faces.
Malicious Strength Ranking, Top 4 — Emperor Sword.
A 900k-subscriber ex-pro turned streamer who insulted Wizard and tried to break into livestreaming. But Sphinx baited him into unleashing disgusting slurs, all exposed live.
‘Ha… unbelievable.’
Top 3 — Kang Bulldozer.
He faked a “dodge hack” scandal by using a zero-accuracy program against fellow streamers. Everyone blamed 600k-subscriber Makshin… everyone except Sphinx, who caught the trick and exposed him.
Over-the-top captions, epic music, and high-quality highlights—honestly, it was mesmerizing.
Top 2 — Project AD.
A copycat company, growing by cloning trending games and stories in high quality…
Top 1 — Bad Boy MCN.
Tainted by drug use, scandals, and privacy violations of its streamers…
To be honest, seeing my face pop up in the middle of this was embarrassing and humiliating.
But one thing was clear:
“There’s no way viewers could resist clicking on this.”
“…But hey, is this even okay? You can’t just name-drop Bad Boy MCN or Project AD like that.”
“Ah, you misunderstood when I called it a gift.”
He grinned slyly.
“This is just a fan video. Same style as the one I showed you before.”
So, not on the main channel, but their so-called “fan channel”?
“…You’re seriously malicious.”
“Haha, thank you. Learned a lot from watching my favorite streamer.”
Not exactly a saintly company.
They used whatever they could—but knew where the line was.
If that’s what I thought… hadn’t I already made my decision?
“Let’s sign. Bring me the contract.”
Forget the ads.
“The only place fit for a malicious streamer like me is here.”
“Understood. I’ll bring the contract and ad paperwork.”
It was only a one-floor office. Having seen everything, I followed him toward the conference room.
—Poke. Poke.
Something jabbed my arm.
“…Wanna listen to this?”
Editor Miso offered me her wireless earbuds, poking me with her phone.
Honestly, they didn’t look very clean. But as a socially adept streamer, I smiled and put them in.
‘Eh? What’s this?’
I expected video feedback. Instead, music played.
“My love for you, like the waves,
it crashes and seeps inside.
Even broken memories, even their shards,
in the end, they flow to you… then vanish.”
“…How is it?”
“Uh… it’s good.”
“…Be more specific?”
“W-what do I say… it’s like it pulls you in emotionally. I’m not a music person, but this singer’s tone is… really captivating.”
“Hehe… then I’ll add more effects to your videos.”
Cheerful, Miso quickly re-edited the Shorts clip, layering flashy effects onto the fight with Kang Bulldozer. Before I knew it, the video looked movie-quality.
“Mon, Wed, Fri. 8 PM.”
“…Sorry?”
“If you’re bored, come listen to more. I’m streamer Marie.”
The only streamer in Cheongseol MCN… was her.
And she wasn’t even full-time—an editor-slash-streamer hybrid.
‘Wait… I haven’t signed yet. Should I back out?’
But watching her edit…
“The video quality was simply too good to refuse.”
* * *
Romance.
Tae-seop Oh, CEO of Mystery Circle, loved the word “romance.”
What is a gamer’s romance?
Failing again and again to a difficult boss pattern, retrying endlessly.
Exploring every hidden nook of a map to find secrets.
“Please, CEO! Gamers don’t like that anymore!”
“…Huh? Don’t like it? But didn’t Star War get great responses?”
“That’s because we built a perfect navigation system! You wouldn’t compromise on difficulty, so we had to!”
He sighed.
For him, only endless retries followed by victory gave true satisfaction. High difficulty increased immersion, which in turn drew players into the story.
“What ruined us is your stubbornness! That’s why this company’s dying! Do you get it?”
“…But, but I put so much into every object. It hurts when people just skip past them…”
“Argh!! Who said they have to skip? I’m saying add convenience so they can enjoy everything! Forget it. Thank you for everything.”
“What? No, wait! Don’t do this! I warned you!”
“I resign, CEO. I don’t know why I had to run this company like I was the boss. I endured for the high pay, but finances are failing too. I’m done.”
Coldness crept into his body.
Yes. Fear.
Was this fear?
‘If she leaves… our company really will collapse!’
Even drunk on his “romance,” he knew what was important.
For once, the word “romance” vanished from his head.
Focus.
Genius.
That’s what they’d always called him since school. His brain lit up, racing for a way to keep her.
“Our situation isn’t that bad! Didn’t you see Star War hit 16th place on the platform rankings?”
“…So you do care about sales a little. Do you know why it hit 16th?”
He racked his brain—but couldn’t think of a reason.
Of course. He was never a “communication genius.” He was just a guy who made games alone since school.
“I knew it. You wouldn’t. You were too busy sinking everything into your romantic open-world RPG.”
“That’s…”
“I’ll do a one-month handover, then I’m gone. And don’t spam-call me with busywork again. Only call if it’s really important.”
“…Alright.”
“Good. Since I’ll be busy, I’ll go now.”
Her tied-back hair swayed, her heels clicked away.
Please, don’t go.
No matter how many times he begged, the despair told him it was useless.
‘Ah… so this is it.’
This is how players felt, failing dozens of times to reach a hidden route!
“Everyone, gather! Let’s have a meeting.”
For now, he shelved romance.
At this moment, he could accept any idea—if it would stop Seo Ji-yoon from leaving.
“…Anyone have suggestions?”
All eyes turned to Sales.
Everyone but the CEO knew why Seo Ji-yoon was upset—and how to calm her.
“What about hiring a streamer for ads?”
“Ads? But we don’t have a new release.”
The so-called genius of game-making. But in anything else, utterly clueless.
Normally, convincing him would be as hard as clearing Star War’s hidden route.
But luckily, they had an outside document.
“CEO, look at this.”
He read it with a bored face.
PR material for a small streamer from a new MCN.
A streamer with only 30k subs? What’s the point?
“…Sphinx? Are you saying Star War hit 16th thanks to this streamer?”
“You didn’t know? Director Seo Ji-yoon told you many times…”
Finally, the truth of her anger clicked.
Cheongseol MCN. That was it.
The documents were neatly organized.
The impact of a single streamer’s actions on sales—no, more than just impact.
Because of his clearing the hidden route, all their games hit the platform’s top 100.
“…So the idea is: let their streamer advertise our hidden route, buy time, adjust difficulty, and fix finances?”
—Gulp.
Some staff swallowed nervously.
A rookie MCN daring to lecture a major gaming company’s CEO… and even proposing an eight-digit ad fee for a sub-50k streamer?
Ridiculous.
“This is genius! Romantic! I love it!”
“…What?”
“The ideas are great. While the ad runs, we’ll patch with subtle hints. Perfect.”
Cheongseol MCN understood CEO Oh better than his own staff did.
He leapt up and declared:
“Excellent! Start the ad immediately!”
“…How exactly should we run the ad?”
He might not have realized it before, but Sphinx was the first to ever clear the hidden route in his game.
“You… really didn’t know that?”
“Director Seo told you, repeatedly…”
He couldn’t hold it in. For the company’s survival, the word burst out again:
“Romance! Have him clear every hidden route, savoring all the content with romance!”
Would the public ever know?
That the fate of a giant like Mystery Circle now rested in the hands of a single streamer?
