I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun
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Chapter 115 Table of contents

[General] Today’s Yujin... Gambit Analysis Compilation .gif

<Yujin sitting casually, running countless simulations and extracting data> <Gambit’s automated algorithm glitch moment> <Gambit looking at Yujin with sparkling eyes, despite receiving critique>

From today on, I shall call light itself “Yujin.”

[All Comments] [Sorted by Latest]

 

<[Xi impressive//Whale] has donated 50,000 won.>

 

<[TK1//Eraser] has donated 40,000 won.>

 

"...Thank you so much to Whale from Xi and Eraser from TK1 for the 50,000 and 40,000 won donations. I hope this feedback was helpful, not just to you two, but to everyone watching."

Something…

Something felt like it had spiraled out of control.

Pro players lurking in the chat were suddenly coming out of the woodwork. The reactions fell into two categories: those envying Gambit like crazy, and those who gained some insight from the public feedback. The latter group, of course, were the ones tossing substantial donations my way.

But that wasn’t the only thing. Broadcast rooms like this one are temporary—created at the start of a match and disappearing after the game and interviews are finished. Viewers usually get a prompt asking if they want to jump to another room or return to the lobby once it’s over.

Which led to an unexpected result.

 

"Wow! We’re currently the number one Dark Zone stream in Korea!"

"...This isn’t the best time to have that many viewers."

 

Dark Zone.

A virtual reality game. In other words, a game where you physically move. Despite all the motion assist features, the one controlling the body is still you, and fatigue gradually builds up.

Especially since we’ve been working on improving Harmony’s skills with intense training since the weekend, our stream time has been cut short. Throwing someone into a main mission after six hours of grueling practice tends to drain them pretty quickly.

In short, what I’m getting at is that our usual 9 to 11-hour broadcast had been reduced by half, mostly due to Harmony’s mental exhaustion.

It’s currently 8:30 PM in the real world. Considering that Harmony and I started streaming around 6 PM, today’s session had run for about six hours.

Even someone as tough as Harmony, who had endured her fair share of bad games, was nearing her limit.

"I was planning to log off and rest, but of course…"

 

<[ReadyForCompany] has donated 10,000 won.>

 

"I think you all know by now that I’m a realist."

"Wow, a realist! Isn’t that even stronger than a duelist?"

"…Please don’t start with that nonsense."

So there were duel memes here too, huh?

I glanced over at Harmony. Her eyes had that hazy, far-away look, and it was clear she was hitting her limit. We wouldn’t be able to continue the main mission tonight—not when she was so tired she probably couldn’t even aim straight.

After tonight’s stream, I’d need to rework her training schedule a bit.

I gently patted Harmony’s back as she slumped beside me, using my tail to create a makeshift cushion for her. As she leaned back with a small groan, I turned my attention to the viewer count.

It was approaching 80,000.

Taking a deep breath, I sent Harmony a private message.

 

It was time to wrap things up.

I carefully spoke up.

"Harmony will be signing off for today. I’ll continue the stream for a bit longer, but we’ll skip the main mission."

"Goodnight, everyone… see you tomorrow…."

Ssshhh.

Harmony slowly faded out of the virtual space. The chat, however, exploded into chaos for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I had meant to switch over to a private chat room for a bit, but I was too curious about why everyone was suddenly spamming "O" and "ㅗㅜㅑ."

The answer came quickly.

"…Why do you guys care so much about this?"

 

"If you’re curious about textures, maybe visit a reptile zoo or something."

It was my tail. The one I had curled around to support Harmony’s back as a makeshift chair. Now that Harmony had logged out, the tail remained, perfectly visible to the viewers.

Of course.

Anyway, there was no reason to stay in Dark Zone any longer. I considered doing some side missions, but I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to commit to anything major.

When I opened my eyes again, the environment had shifted into a deformed version of my personal studio. The thousands of viewers hoping for more Dark Zone action were beginning to leave.

No reason to stop them. They weren’t my usual audience anyway.

It was just a brief farewell in my mind.

The viewer count kept fluctuating as thousands left and new ones joined. But the ever-shifting number didn’t bother me in the slightest. I sank deeper into my chair.

Handling the emotions of 150,000 live viewers all at once had been more exhausting than I expected.

"Before we move on to today’s content… I thought I’d share some behind-the-scenes thoughts. It won’t be much, so don’t expect too much—I’m not great at talking."

 

I had a feeling I wouldn’t have much to say.

Where should I even start? If I had more ambition in streaming, I might be worried about what to say to keep the audience engaged. But what would be the point?

This was just a hobby.

So instead of saying what the audience wanted to hear, I’d simply speak as I always did. No need to hold back people coming or going.

Let’s start with this.

"As for today’s feedback session… I don’t think broadcasting is really my thing. Liquid and Meerkat were incredibly considerate, but the commentary was just dry facts. Probably not the most exciting thing to watch."

Most people probably have a similar image of commentary. Casters raising their voices, building excitement and guiding the audience through the match. Making it more accessible and immersive.

Given the direction modern commentary has taken, today’s session likely fell short. I’m sure both the viewers and my fellow casters understood that, but still, I couldn’t help feeling a little unsatisfied.

But that dissatisfaction came from the gap between my style and modern commentary. I wasn’t going to bridge that gap.

No need to dwell on that.

"After last night’s stream ended, I stayed up pretty late trying to get comfortable with the idea of commentary, but it’s tough. There’s pros and cons to only having one day to prepare. On the plus side, I didn’t have to drag out the effort."

If the special broadcast had stretched on for a week, it would have been a nightmare. Sure, I could have gotten deeper into the analysis and synced better with the casters during rehearsals.

But this is a time for focus. It may have been a good experience, but if it didn’t align with my goals, it was meaningless.

Especially considering the current state of things—the hidden lock that was slowly but surely opening itself.

"Getting back to the feedback, it went as well as expected. It was my first time analyzing someone outside of SSM, and there were more points to address than I thought. It was a rewarding session."

 

I continued to chat with the viewers, the conversation flowing as naturally as ever.

As expected, reality and expectations often differ. Words aren’t just thoughts—they resonate, they provoke. As long as I keep talking, more ideas will surface.

Gradually, the viewers began trickling out. For countless reasons I couldn’t even imagine, but… what’s there to be upset about?

The sand slipping through my fingers was never really mine to begin with, so why cling to it?

The stream wasn’t even 9 PM yet, but with each passing word and minute, it felt like the day was drawing to a close.

And so was the preliminary rank.

I may have wrapped things up a day earlier than most, but it was clear that everything was winding down.

A new week was waiting, along with the next big event: the KSM.

"It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?"

Time passes, things end, and new beginnings arise.

Looking back at the past week, so much had happened. My first real encounter with pros since the scrim, and the realization that I could keep up with them. Numerous offers followed, and so much more.

But there’s no need to dwell on it. More is coming.

I exhaled softly, gazing outside. The real-world sky was dark, but dotted with stars tracing their own paths.

It was quiet.

I spoke softly.

"A week has ended, and a new one is about to begin. I hope next week brings you all even better things than this one did. So, let’s meet again tomorrow."

I stood up.

Dragging out a stream wasn’t my style.

I glanced at the chat, still full of energy. But the time to let go had come. After all, what’s left after a bright fire burns out?

Only ashes.

So, I looked forward to tomorrow. And to the next time.

"Goodbye."

Click.

And just like that, the stream ended.

The preliminary rank was over.

Quietly. Without a fuss.

 

Of course, only Yujin felt that way.

Chapter written by
Fenrir Translations
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