[TS] Malicious Sniper

Ding-dong!

The fact that Barcode smashed through the 15th floor of Solo Queue with a score of 1500 left quite the impact.

Bam! Bam!

It was such a big deal that an article made it to the front page of Naver, the portal site you wouldn’t want to miss.

Even foreign pros who usually have the guts to try wouldn’t dare to touch the top of Korea’s Solo Queue, and it was a streamer—no less!

And to top it off, the fact that it was a female user who climbed that high started buzzing around overseas communities.

Barcode alone had every Leaguinator community hopping with excitement, regardless of nationality.

But such fame usually comes with backlash.

Existing fans were so high on their own hype that they began to throw endless praises at Barcode.

“Last year’s World Championship winning midlaner Showdown can’t even touch Barcode!”

“The legendary Raker’s partner has finally appeared!”

“With Yone from Barcode steamrolling the Challenger tier, if Barcode goes pro, winning the World Championship is a given, right?”

Meanwhile, Barcode, the one who made those achievements, was chilling during a Curry broadcast while typing out some nasty comments in chat.

But this mindless praise from the fans ruffled the feathers of pro player fans who usually didn’t watch streams.

Of course, it turned into a vicious cycle of slamming pros and streamers back and forth.

Wham!

“Professionals…”

I’d been lurking around various communities since I started getting tied to Curry as Barcode, so I was well aware of the ongoing controversies and knew how to solve them.

Yet I felt zero obligation to address the issue. I could if I wanted to, but it was too much hassle.

I dove into my cluttered email inbox that I left untouched.

I started sorting through heaps of promotional emails and payment confirmations.

What remained were several promotional offers and love calls from various teams.

After sorting the pro offers separately, I tackled the rest of the emails.

“Coffee ad? Nope.”

“Sponsorship for gaming chairs… I’ll hold off on this.”

“Computer ad with banner settings during broadcast? Delete.”

…

…

Ding! Ding!

“League cosplay outfit ad?”

While I was cleaning up, I found an interesting promotion, so I visited the site to check out the cosplay outfits.

At the top of the list were cringe-worthy outfits like the pop star Ara and League idol skins, but scrolling down yielded some more normal costumes with less exposure.

“…I’ll hold off for now.”

Of course, I didn’t plan on cosplaying myself.

Maybe someday Curry might want to cosplay, who knows?

No other intentions lurked behind that decision at all.

After I wrapped up sorting my emails, I checked the pro offers from various teams.

Each one expressed a desire to meet and talk and boasted of the best conditions.

The shiny phrases plastered on the emails only fueled my annoyance.

“At least offer me a contract as a streamer or something.”

If they had suggested that, I would’ve happily accepted—on the condition that not a single other streamer besides Curry would be involved.

“Curry surely deserves at least a house too.”

The apartment I visited during our collab felt quite cramped.

Of course, a 30-pyeong flat isn’t that small, but compared to my home in a country house, it felt cramped, plain and simple.

Click! Click!

How many times did I mechanically hit the delete button?

Before I knew it, all the emails I had separated had vanished. I closed my internet window.

Phew…

After stretching, when I randomly checked the time, it was exactly one o’clock in the afternoon.

When should I start the broadcast? I pondered before preparing the stream.

I had nothing to do anyway, plus, I had a plan to drop a hosting bomb on Curry today.

I would work hard, push out the stream, then enjoy watching Curry’s show afterward.

Could anything be more entertaining than that? A question lingered in my mind.

But dismissing it as unnecessary, I shook off my distractions and got the broadcast going.

As soon as I started the stream, Poof! the chat room was immediately flooded with “Bah~”.

What kind of life do these early viewers lead that they tune in right away?

If they had enough money, maybe they live as richly and satisfyingly as I do.

But if they don’t… well, I have no words for that.

As the opening song neared its end and I felt enough people had gathered, I turned on the mic.

“Ah. Hello everyone!”

Today’s stream is yet another Solo Queue, just like last time.

But before I could finish, a donation popped up.

{ FT roloster has donated 1,000,000 won! }

Without any message, just a pure “cool donation”.

But the nickname of the donor felt out of the ordinary.

FT roloster

SDVIMVFoanVzY1YwSVhjamMzUkt1ZXY3OUpHZHJ5SEdNU2pqSkRSOWtXY2ZNNStQL1R5S1JJZTNvZ2VJQlBTYg

They were a team active in the first division—one of the teams that sent me a love call.

“Oh. FT roloster, thank you for the 1 million won!”

[No reaction whatsoever, souls to the wind, lol]

[Barcode looks unfazed even by that million won, huh?]

[But is that for real?]

[Nope, not real.]

[What are you talking about, it’s real.]

[Whoa, it’s really real?]

[What, is Barcode here for recruitment?]

Even though a pro team sent in a significant donation, I wasn’t feeling happy about it.

What is this annoying feeling that something bothersome is about to happen?

‘Now other pro teams might…’

As soon as that ominous thought crossed my mind,

{ SFT T1 has donated 1,000,000 won! }

It quickly turned into reality.

{ DAG has donated 1,000,000 won! }

Is this some universal rule applicable to everyone?

{ GEM.G has donated 1,000,000 won! }

Had I known this would happen,

{ DAS has donated 1,000,000 won! }

I would have replied by refusing instead of just deleting!

Ugh…

Regretting it came hand in hand with rising annoyance.

*

What’s the most important aspect for a pro gamer?

A strong mentality that won’t waver?

Stable gameplay that doesn’t create variables?

An innate personality that nobody can tear down?

None of that mattered.

What was truly important was ‘skill’ alone.

Besides that, nothing else was needed for a pro gamer.

There are pros who have committed unforgivable actions in the past.

They deserved all the criticism they got, but the backlash was minimal.

In fact, even when the controversy erupted, the voices of criticism may have been louder.

But as time passed, the past was forgotten, replaced with the present.

A pro gamer with a shining personality but lacks skill.

A pro gamer who’s a complete jerk but is unbelievably good at the game.

Which of the two would be more popular?

Clearly, the latter would have the upper hand.

For pro gamers, ‘skill’ was everything.

If one had skill, popularity was merely a byproduct that followed.

And now,

A person of ridiculous skill appeared.

Suddenly emerging, this person toyed with renowned masters from the celestial realm.

This person helped remind everyone of the forgotten truth: even among challengers, ranks vary.

With star quality alone, they were already near the pinnacle, and that did not change even after the incident.

And as if to sweep aside a trivial incident, this time, they rose to the peak of the Solo Queue.

Star quality.

Overwhelming skill.

And the fact that it was a woman, not a man.

By now, the directors and coaches of pro teams acknowledged Barcode.

That’s why they sent out their love calls, yet no reply came.

Worrying and feeling anxious over the possibility of Barcode slipping away to another team consumed their thoughts.

The directors of the teams, who had long been lurking around Barcode’s stream, were on high alert.

However, they all agreed that openly making recruitment offers during a live stream would be beneath a pro team’s reputation.

Most directors thought this way, yet FT roloster, having a rough season, threw a curveball when they sent in a donation.

Throwing all decorum out the window, they tossed in a whopping 1 million won just to grab attention.

The typically sharp-witted SFT followed suit, sending in a donation next.

Observing all of this, directors across teams lost track and hastily followed suit with donations.

Thus unfolded the surprising incident of love calls from multiple teams.

‘This is so annoying.’

Feeling both exhaustion and irritation towards the mindless donation parade by the teams, I realized my fault in not replying, but at least they could try to think about why I didn’t respond.

Since I had no intention of going pro, that was why I didn’t reply. More importantly, barging into someone else’s stream like that was plain rude.

Deciding this was it, I slowly opened my mouth.

“Thank you for the donations, but I have no intention of going pro.”

“Looking at the folks who donated, they’ve all sent me love calls…”

“Have you given a thought as to why I haven’t replied?”

“I have so much to say, but I’ll keep it brief on this matter.”

It was an official broadcast and the counterparts were pro teams, so I chose my words carefully.

Still, my words carried a sharp edge that I couldn’t help.

And with this, I hoped to address the ever-present toxicity from my bad fanbase.

“And in the community, I keep seeing comparisons between me and pros, with many subtly belittling them. If I see those kinds of posts when lurking the communities, I swear I won’t turn on my cams again.”

Despite roughly ten thousand people watching the stream, messages in the chat were scarce.

How was I supposed to salvage this messed-up atmosphere? An idea struck me.

“I’ll wrap up today’s broadcast here.”

Choosing to flee instead of rectify, I promptly ended the stream.

*

After the love call incident, I didn’t stream for a while.

Aside from trolling in Curry’s chat or occasionally spending time on a Discord call, my presence stayed out of the public eye.

Honestly, I thought my image would plummet after the love call incident.

I mean, I openly dismissed the love calls from pro teams and made comments that came across as rude.

The fandoms of pro teams could’ve easily twisted that into a public attack on my image.

But unexpectedly, that didn’t happen; in fact, the blame shifted toward the directors from each team who mindlessly doled out donations.

How on earth did this happen?

Upon digging into the incident, the answer was simple.

The teams were far too clearly at fault to blame me, and moreover, my exotic yet stunning appearance brilliantly scattered any potential anger their way.

And thus, the incident wrapped up neatly.

I started getting ready to stream again after a long time.

Not just another Solo Queue stream, but a cosplay costume advertisement stream.

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