Streamer Crazy About Slaughter - Chapter 76

Bleep bleep!

Slrk.

As I fumbled around for my smartphone that was loudly ringing, I couldn’t seem to find it for some reason.

Bleep bleep!

Clack!

Found it.

Ding.

I tapped the smartphone screen, placing my fingerprint on it, and finally managed to silence that loud sound.

“…”

My eyes were so heavy that I couldn’t open them.

4 AM.

Or was it 5 AM?

I couldn’t even remember when I had fallen asleep.

“From now on… let’s keep the schedule a bit looser.”

Muttering this, I swept aside the disheveled strands of hair sticking to me here and there.

Arranging my hair every morning was a chore, and I didn’t like the feeling of it tugging at me when I tied it up. It was better to leave it down while sleeping. But it was still annoying.

I forced myself to rise from my body, heavy like water-soaked cotton.

Soft.

I touched my cheeks, trying to awaken my hazy consciousness.

1 PM.

I knew what time it was because I had set the alarm.

Three hours until the broadcast.

Would it be okay to sleep a little longer? I thought that maybe an hour or two would be fine, and that it wouldn’t be a problem to start the broadcast. Such temptations continued to capture me, but I ultimately overcame them.

Once I accepted laziness, it would be endless, and it was clear that I wouldn’t be able to proceed as planned.

“Hah… ugh…”

Every time I moved my exhausted body, a m*an escaped naturally, and I frowned. I felt like my body was garbage as I headed toward the washroom.

Touching water that was cold enough to chill my bones would surely wake me up, whether I liked it or not.

……

After washing up, changing my clothes, and drying my hair, a good amount of time had passed.

2 PM.

I slowly turned on my PC to check the community and once again check my business emails.

I had mentioned that I would be receiving editor email applications before the broadcast.

So, until broadcasting at 4 PM, the deadline was still valid.

“…Someone really sent it.”

Checking the emails with a bit of doubt, I found about ten emails from editors who had applied while I was asleep.

Clack.

I instinctively clicked through the emails with indifference now.

Various personal circumstances and statements of strengths filled my view, but I ignored them all and played the attached videos first.

—Lin Tube! Kakang!

The intro was well-crafted from the start.

‘This person even made an intro.’

The phrase “Lin Tube” was a pleasant female voice, either recorded directly or dubbed, along with a refreshing sound effect that echoed when paired with pinging.

The content that followed was somewhat intriguing.

—Kakang! Kakang!

It showed parts of me pinging, which felt a bit like a mad movie?

After that impactful start, it edited footage of the duels I had competed in and a few remarks, and I couldn’t help but think it wasn’t bad as I watched.

Should I say it understood the points? It didn’t have that feeling of being extremely neat, yet it still possessed a charm that kept me watching.

‘Kim Ha-yoon.’

Thus, one more candidate editor to show on the broadcast had been added.

……

Aside from the first one I checked, Kim Ha-yoon, there weren’t any videos that stood out afterwards.

Actually, there were some decent ones, but the impact of Kim Ha-yoon’s video was so big that it felt comparatively lacking.

Clack.

Before I knew it, another last email was there.

—Applying for editor.

The simple subject line felt unappealing.

I had noticed it last night, but editors with flair typically had catchy subject lines.

Highlights, or something refined. At the very least, the format seen when you opened the email was at a different level.

———

— I sent this video late, and I had a drink last night. I don’t know if you will check this video, Lin, but I won’t say much more. However, I do want you to know this: I poured everything into this one video.

If you show this video on the broadcast and the reaction is good, then I’ll send another email about additional matters.

———

“What is this?”

It felt very much like a plea for emotional response or some sort of desperation.

And then I wondered how much effort it took to send just the video without any background or personal information. I had seen phrases like this countless times in the early morning, so honestly, I didn’t feel any particular emotion from such sentences.

If anything, I felt a bit of my expectations lowering; this often happened when someone lacked skill and appealed in other areas.

‘To ask to show the video during the broadcast feels odd…’

I opened the attached video.

—Kimochi…! Soko wa dame! Dame da yo…!

Startled by the super vivid flesh-colored display and loud moans, Serin immediately turned off the video.

It said they had a drink, but had they really lost their mind?

I never imagined they would send something like that.

“…Are they really insane?”

Claiming they poured everything into this one video.

***

Once the time came, I hit the broadcast ON button and, as always, delivered my line.

“…The broadcast started on Tuesday, August 3rd.”

Watching the videos for hours made my own broadcast lines feel quite desolate, and I thought I should change them later.

As the broadcast began, the chat window turned green, and messages started popping up simultaneously.

[Lin-ha!!!!!]

[Noona, I’m dying!!!]

[Why are you dying just as it starts lololol]

[I really enjoyed the collaboration yesterday!]

[Was that collaboration? I only remember Plea teaching Lin us so sweetly.]

[If it’s Lin’s voice, just replying is a collaboration, right?]

[For real lol]

[You crazy people lololol]

They always seemed lively, and I liked it.

Other streamers often reacted exaggeratedly to draw responses from viewers, but I had no need for that.

Just having them type in the chat felt like a show of interest that supported the broadcast.

“I’m always grateful for those who come right away as the broadcast starts.”

Adding another line to break the ice.

—Ding ding!!

“Crato has donated 50,000 won!”

《I’m a Plea broadcast viewer, and I really enjoyed the collaboration yesterday!!》

A donation suddenly came in.

“Thank you, Crato… For the 50,000 won donation. Even though you call it a collaboration, I can’t help but feel like I didn’t do anything. Plea really did everything.”

Having grown accustomed to donations, I now just thought people were giving them out of goodwill. To be honest, I still didn’t understand the psychology behind a donor.

‘50,000 won.’

With 50,000 won, you could order pretty lavish delivery food twice, right?

—Don’t donate. No reaction.

So, half-jokingly, I displayed a message on the screen.

“You might not know if you’re a Plea viewer, but I don’t do donation reactions. So unless you’re feeling generous, please don’t donate.”

Serin’s voice was so confident in saying, ‘I don’t want to earn money.’

Not long after starting the broadcast, the chat, which had just around a thousand people, began to rise so quickly it was unbelievable.

[Isn’t it amazing every time we hear Lin’s voice?]

[I find it more amazing that she keeps saying there’s no reaction lol]

[The white letters saying ‘no reactions’ have become familiar now lol]

[Is there really a streamer saying don’t donate just as the broadcast starts?]

[lolololol]

[Wow, but it’s crazy that someone donated 50,000 won right as the broadcast started??]

[Lin has quite a few big spenders in her room.]

[For real, there was someone who just tossed 2 million won yesterday.]

“Ah, and today’s broadcast schedule has three parts.”

—Part 1: Just chatting while checking the community (short, about 30-40 minutes).

—Part 2: Editor selection content, time undecided.

—Part 3: Another World Arena, if Part 2 drags on, it will be short.

At first, I thought I would display the schedule on the broadcast screen, but it seemed too cluttered, so I entered the schedule into the chat like a macro.

Every 10 minutes, a message about the schedule would pop up in the chat. Or if someone typed ‘broadcast schedule!’ they could check it.

“For Part 1, we’ll check the community for a short 30-40 minutes, then head right into Part 2. Today, we’re doing editor selection content for Lin Tube, as you all know, right?”

[Yeah, we know]

[Yesterday’s collaboration was also because of the Lin Tube editor, right?]

[How many application emails did you get?]

[Realistically, wouldn’t there be a line-up for being an editor for Lin?]

[There were about 100 emails, I think, though the recruitment period was so short.]

“The emails, including those that arrived before the broadcast, total about 200.”

I checked all the applications that arrived by around 3:30 PM.

The ones submitted close to the deadline all felt rushed based on the videos, so there weren’t any that I deemed suitable based on my standards.

Excluding prank emails and such, the pure editor applications reached an impressive competition ratio of 200:1.

“Among those, there are 11 videos for us to watch together with the viewers. Based on the advice I received from Plea during yesterday’s collaboration, exactly 11 applicants have passed the first round.”

The final 11 who broke through the 200:1 competition.

It felt a bit ambiguous to say first round pass, but that was the reality.

To become an editor for Lin Tube, one had to break through the 200:1 competition.

Considering that, given the recruitment period was only two days, it meant even more people could potentially apply.

[Wait, you checked all 200 emails in that time?]

[What kind of superhuman are you lol]

[Isn’t Lin also subtly using Plea’s name? It seems like it’s gonna work well.]

[Can we not mention Taz?]

[Why is Plea Taz lol]

[When you say first round pass, it gives me PTSD;]

[For real lol]

[If we calculate the period accurately, it hasn’t even been two days, right? It’s insane that 200 people applied in that timeframe.]

[Lin really is a large corporation, it hits me again lololol]

Seeing the chat call it a large corporation made me unknowingly contemplate that.

On the same level as the competition ratio of famous corporate giants.

Even giving preference to experienced candidates.

Looking at the personal circumstances and other details of the 11 applicants led me to see that 10 of them had experience and only 1 lacked substantial experience.

So it seemed likely that, even if they selected an editor, it would be among those 10 experienced individuals; I vaguely felt that way.

It’s not easy to be satisfied right away; in the end, human emotions can’t be helped.

You might think it’s harsh, but that’s reality.

‘…Newcomers always wonder where to gain experience, but I won’t worry about that.’

Serin, who was actually thinking that, was merely.

A rookie streamer just four days into her broadcast.