The two guys looked unusual compared to everyone else around.
One hand gripping a phone mount.
I realized they were streaming live and caught on that they were doing what they call street streaming.
'The iron rule of street streaming is to never show regular folks on camera...'
Street streaming—a shorthand for outdoor broadcasting.
To avoid any legal trouble over portrait rights violations, the standard is to only show yourself on screen.
But these assholes were blatantly filming me and Kang So-yeon.
"Mind if we get your phone number, maybe?"
A viewer mission!
The kind where they score Bubble Gifts every time they snag a girl's number.
This could land me in hot water if I'm not careful.
The problem was, they didn't look like your average guys.
What guys call "style"—tats, smokes, and piercings.
A mashup of tattoos, cigarettes, and piercings. Word on the street was, anyone rocking all three was a walking science experiment. Women hated the type.
Somehow mustering courage from God-knows-where, I stepped in front of Kang So-yeon.
But then...
My resident loser-guy curse reared its ugly head.
"U-Um... F-Filming a r-regular person's f-face without p-permission is... i-illegal..."
"What? What'd you just say?"
Terrifying.
My heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
Tattoos come in all flavors.
Theirs were impossible to hide—even with long sleeves and jackets—starting at their hands, crawling up their necks, and dipping below their pants.
Guys like that? Probably fresh from some shadowy syndicate, now slumming it on internet broadcasts.
And those designs...
'Fuck, dragon and mugunghwa tattoos straight out of a movie...'
What kind of combo is that?
Of course, I didn't say it out loud. That'd be suicide.
They towered over my 180cm frame, necks thicker than my thighs from who-knows-what workouts. When they scowled, I nearly pissed myself.
"Y-You're s-streamers, r-right? W-We don't w-want to be f-filmed..."
My voice trailing off into a mumble.
They had that look—like, 'This punk? Should we break a leg or what?'
Luckily, this was a café.
A spot crawling with people.
One whiff of trouble, and everyone's whipping out smartphones to film.
"Ha, what a fucking joke."
The slicked-back blond guy from the duo approaching us.
He must be the one streaming on his phone.
Growling like he was about to murder someone.
"Where's this otaku bitch-boy get off showing off in front of his girl?"
"..."
"Fuck, this pisses me off."
"Yo, let's bounce. Everyone's staring."
One wrong move and their stream's toast, so they shot me a death glare and slunk away. My legs nearly gave out.
Killing intent spiderwebbing from their eyes.
That shit was real.
Not just poser ink—these were syndicate marks to ID members.
"Do-jun, thank you..."
Tears welling in Kang So-yeon's eyes.
She steadied herself on my shoulder, face etched with worry.
"Y-Yeah... I'm fine. G-Glad no one got hurt..."
This was the moment to scoop her up, whisper in her ear, 'For you? This is nothing,' and set the mood.
But my damn loser vibe wouldn't let me.
Oh God.
Why must you test me like this?
Right then, a fire ignited in my chest.
Things had been perfect until those scumbags crashed the party.
A total loner virgin who'd never even been on a date.
Finally taking that first step...
And some hyena bastards shattered my shot at happiness.
'Two ex-gangster street streamers...'
Narrows it down.
Under 30 tops.
Search by keywords or category? Ten minutes flat.
"Do-jun, let's head home for today. You're drenched in cold sweat."
"Y-Yeah..."
Plan was coffee and dessert here, then a trendy flick. Post-movie? Dinner time.
Hit a cozy restaurant, steak and wine to seal the vibe.
All ruined by those pricks.
'I'll kill 'em. Get revenge. You dogshit bastards.'
Not with fists.
I'm rank 3 Big Spender. Bubble Gifts'll deliver justice.
They'll dance to those bubbles—they're slaves to 'em.
'Gonna destroy you.'
My eyes flashed cold blue.
'Time to show you real power play.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A cramped two-room for two grown men.
Two rough-looking dudes pounding soju and shrimp snacks spread on newspaper.
Reason? Shit earnings today.
Some loser tanked their usual 20k Bubbles down to 500.
Cash after exchange and fees? 35,000 won.
Less than day labor at a site.
Had them fuming.
And split between two.
"Man, that fucker ruined our daily take, right?"
Koo Seong-hwan chugging straight from the bottle.
Streamer name: Gangster Uncle.
Edgy title to hook eyes. Pulled views with wild stunts no one else dared.
Why do folks watch internet broadcasts?
Vicarious thrills.
Mukbangs? More girls than guys. Can't eat without gaining weight—diet or health—so they live through someone else devouring the goods.
Street streaming's the same.
Spot a hot girl on the street, snag her number? Male fantasy fuel.
Don't we all daydream?
What it'd be like dating her.
Show viewers that, rake in Bubbles as pay.
"But Seong-hwan."
"Yeah?"
"Wanna quit street streaming?"
"What? Outta nowhere? Now?"
The guy across from Koo Seong-hwan.
Small head, but sleazy vibe.
Kim Tae-kkung.
Not his real name—syndicate nickname.
Who knows why.
"We've hit the cop shop over ten times just grabbing civilian numbers. Platform's warned us how many times?"
"Fuck, you wanna quit over a ban?"
Riled up, Koo Seong-hwan shoved back, grabbing Kim Tae-kkung's collar.
Dragged like a ragdoll from the force.
They'd quit the syndicate, tried everything.
Delivery, parcels, welding, construction, interiors.
Nothing they hadn't done.
Busting ass got under 3 mil a month.
Might as well stayed in the life.
Quitting street streaming hit Koo's nerve.
"Nah... These days, trendy game called LoL has tons of casual viewers. Or that old Starcraft we used to crush."
"Starcraft?"
"Yeah. Some college thing—pros teaching streamers."
"That fun?"
"..."
Heard of the Starcraft college by major streamers.
Decent idea, but unproven, so they'd watched from afar till Kim pushed to try.
Koo crossed arms, pondering.
"Tae-kkung."
"Yeah?"
"Games... Think skill means Bubbles rain?"
"?"
"Think. If pure skill popped Bubbles, why girls outdonate guys?"
"!"
"Check girl streams—amateurs near pro level. Bubbles? Thousands a month. Tens of thousands in cash!"
"Seong-hwan, you don't mean..."
"Get it now?"
Koo's Starcraft ladder: A-rank.
But A means A opponents.
Start at bottom F? Different story.
Kim Tae-kkung's eyes bulged, catching on.
"Hide our skill?"
"Yeah. LoL example: Challenger entry? Face Challengers—50/50 winrate. But hide, start Bronze? Who we face?"
"Bronze, duh."
"Right. Winrate?"
Obvious—no brain required.
Challenger in Bronze? 100-0.
Jaw on floor, Kim couldn't contain excitement.
Play right, bundles of cash.
Koo smirked arrogantly.
"Viewers are sheep. Limited cam view. Show just enough—not too good, not too bad—they'll go nuts."
"!"
"Call us college aces, shower Bubbles."
Maybe tens of thousands monthly.
Hundreds. Even hit the million-dream.
Scam-adjacent, but survival trumped conscience.
They didn't know it'd kill their streaming careers early.
"Start today."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Parted tearfully from my first love, Kang So-yeon, and headed straight home.
Didn't even shower—booted the PC, scanned my usual internet broadcasts.
'Lemme see. Street streaming's under visible radio category...'
Thought it'd be quick. Nope—flipped through, no sign of those pricks.
'Off today?'
Plenty of time.
Tomorrow, day after—whenever.
"Huh? Starcraft streams blowing up?"
Me? Former semi-pro hopeful.
Call it bragging, but introverted cheapskates like me? Basement dwellers game or jerk it.
Secret: I was top 0.1% of S-ladder Terran.
Starcraft's three races:
Terran—humans.
Zerg—monsters.
Protoss—AI bots.
Terran main here.
Hopped into a stream—familiar guy with cam on, deep in a match.
The tattooed asshole from earlier.
"Pfft, what kinda skill is that?"
Godawful.
Ladder F—bottom tier.
Mouse jerky, fingers crawling on keys when they should fly.
Resources pile up, ignoring basics.
'Something's off.'
Expected a loss—opponent crumbled smooth.
💬 Chat— Viewer1Whoa, a win?— Viewer2Gangster Uncle's got Star skills?— Viewer3Eh? That's good? Looks trash.— Viewer4
Still got talent. Check girls playing—nuts, right?
— Viewer5
LOL true. Fairy level.
Chat buzzing, shocked by the win.
"Why switch from street streaming to Starcraft? Non-majors don't pull big monthly... Weird."
Fishy.
Felt like something shady brewing in internet broadcasting land.
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