Fenrir Translations
Becoming famous inevitably means attracting public curiosity. For Yujin, stepping into the Dark Zone and climbing through various ranks—KSM and the Asia preliminaries—only intensified that attention.
But stirring curiosity and satisfying it are entirely different matters. Unfortunately for her curious audience, Yujin had no intention of divulging her past. Though she was gradually resolving issues with her military background, she saw no reason to broadcast those details. In essence, Yujin was under no obligation to quench the public's thirst for answers.
The pressure was mounting, but the valve remained tightly sealed.
Yet the unexpected is the only certainty in life.
Hints about Yujin’s past—unknown even to Dice and Harmony—emerged from an unlikely source. And to make matters worse, her YouSpace channel was skyrocketing. In just two months, she’d amassed over 1.5 million subscribers solely through her skills. Her Omega rank achievements in all main missions attracted a global audience, helping Logan’s interview spread quickly.
If there was one thing that polar bear hadn’t considered, it was the sheer magnitude of public interest centered on Yujin.
In the end, it was as if a bomb had shattered the dam of silence, with Logan’s cryptic comments acting as the detonator. The interview served as a much-awaited relief for millions who were parched for any details about Yujin's mysterious past. This led to a wildfire of speculation across Dark Zone-related forums.
Though even the wildest theories couldn’t uncover the truth, the possibility that Yujin might have been affiliated with a secret military unit was too irresistible for many.
And half a day later, Yujin casually mentioned Logan in an impromptu interview, fueling the flames even more.
The fire had begun to spread.
It was an unseasonably warm day as November approached.
"It's live! Let's go!"
"Now's our chance!"
Chaos. In a flash, over a hundred thousand viewers flooded Yujin’s stream—twice her usual audience. Not only were regular viewers present, but a host of newcomers eager to ask about her military background had joined in.
The chat exploded, messages piling up so quickly that individual comments were unreadable. And just then, Yujin displayed the content for today’s stream. It was brief and straightforward.
Below that, a warning flashed:
A bombshell of a statement.
Predictably, trolls attempted to flood the chat with inflammatory comments, but the sheer volume of viewers worked against them. Their messages disappeared in the scroll before anyone could even read them, and the bots and auto-moderators were quick to ban dozens at a time.
In about five minutes, the viewership stabilized at just under 100,000.
Meanwhile, the chat shifted to a different tone.
Viewers began speculating about Yujin’s whereabouts. Yujin had long since concluded that the best way to deal with the topic was to say nothing. Addressing it logically wouldn’t work; an audience is like a living organism, driven by whims rather than logic. Telling them not to think about something would only make them think about it more.
How much time had passed?
"Testing, testing. Alright, everyone see me? Today’s content… yes, as we did before, we’ll play Sad Frog Island. Type in chat to sync your character."
The topic of her military background faded from the chat.
Sad Frog Island was a platform game where viewers could directly interfere with Yujin’s progress. They could throw punches, kicks, and even swat her with a tail. There was a reason it was called a "reward game."
As Yujin navigated the island’s cliffs, sad frogs rained down, potentially aiding or hindering her. Unsurprisingly, most chose to hinder.
The viewers were like that.
"Let's communicate—!"
"Hug me! Hug me! Hug me—ugh, gah!"
"Oh, come on!"
Each frog had an ID above it, with hundreds of unique frog avatars swarming around Yujin. They couldn’t touch her avatar directly, but they could make sounds and block her path. Even without tactile feedback, the frogs provided ample annoyance.
Bang!
"Aaaaah!"
"This is industry payback… aaaaaaah, I’m falling!"
"Teacher, hurry! We’ve cleared the path!"
Every swing of Yujin’s arm sent frogs flying. She bulldozed through them, leaving even the bravest frogs hesitant. The viewers engaged in a fierce battle between those trying to help and those causing chaos.
Sometimes, Yujin might even carry a viewer along.
It happened right before her eyes.
"...?"
Among the chaotic IDs, one yellow-haired frog stood out with just four uppercase letters. Their gaze met briefly before the frog hurriedly looked away.
How did they get in here? Yujin wondered, and she used her session master privileges to change the frog’s avatar to a standard SD frog. The frog was simply too ugly otherwise.
She strode over to the puzzled frog—of course, it was Dice—and picked her up, giving her a bemused look.
Embarrassed, SD-Dice muttered softly.
"I just got bored and saw you were streaming…."
"Of course."
Yujin playfully squished Dice’s cheeks, setting up a pairing for the obstacle course. She opened a private voice channel, away from the stream.
"I thought you'd ask about it, but you haven’t."
"I figured there was a reason you hadn’t told me. Sure, I’m curious, but it’s not the kind of thing you ask casually, right?"
"Hmm."
Maybe Harmony felt the same way.
Yujin checked, seeing that Harmony was streaming separately. She appreciated the discretion both had shown—she wouldn’t mind if they asked, though.
They were thoughtful people, both of them.
But knowing the truth required a certain readiness.
"If you want to know, take a course on interrogation resistance and keyword obfuscation. Bring a signed NDA, too. It’s not casual information."
"Uh, um…."
The truth was a heavy burden, one even the wildest predictions couldn’t shoulder. Yujin’s past, even adjusted to fit this world, wasn’t something she could casually share. It was better left to imagination.
Dice, after a moment of contemplation, added quietly,
"So… all the things you’ve taught us…."
"Don’t draw conclusions."
It had taken her two months to realize she might have taught them things she shouldn’t have. But there was a bit of justification.
"It’s not like you’ll use this in real life. You can’t even try."
"Now that you mention it, yeah. It’s impossible to replicate in reality."
Boom!
Boom, boom!
Even if one in a hundred was chosen, that still left a thousand frogs. Together with Dice, Yujin stomped, kicked, and shoved the endless stream of frogs falling from the sky.
Clearing the path didn’t make the game any easier. Sad Frog Island’s traps and mechanics were crafted to frustrate, turning even Yujin and Dice into a comedic duo.
For example,
"Yujin, grab my hand!"
"What do you mean, grab your hand? Just jump—whoa!"
"Ack, Yujin—!"
BANG!
A spinning log trap sent Yujin flying, her avatar diving off a cliff and into the virtual ocean, her polygonal form scattering on impact.
Dice had her moments too.
"Yujin, catch me! I’m jumping!"
"Alright, but make sure you jump well."
"Of course—"
CRUNCH!
"Uh, uh!? Aaah, Yujin—!"
"Sheesh."
SPLASH!
Due to lingering on a rotting platform, Dice ended up diving into the waters below. She respawned at the far end of the map, right into the arms of the frog horde.
It took her a full three minutes to return, during which Yujin turned into an anti-aircraft gun, swatting frogs mid-flight.
As Dice struggled, Yujin considered whether they should have just played a co-op game.
By then, the viewers had long forgotten their initial purpose.
Just as planned.