Chapter 5: Motivation (5)
Part 9
“League?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you say you haven’t played in a while? How far do you know the champs?”
“Up to Seraphine.”
“For that reason, folks, today we’re playing League for my poor family member living cut off from civilization!”
Sanghyeon’s gaze, which had been on me, flicked back to the monitor.
He wasn’t looking directly at the camera, but somehow the angle made it seem like he was facing the viewers head-on.
On screen, it looked slightly like he was looking down from above, but whatever.
“Your streaming voice is so different from your normal voice.”
“…Sis, have you never watched my stream?”
“Your stream’s boring.”
When I asked if there was anything I should be careful about since I’d be on the stream, he’d said, “Just act like you normally do.”
Acting normal sounded easy enough, but now that I was here, it felt oddly awkward.
Was it because I knew people were watching?
In the corner of the camera feed, my legs and a bit of my side were visible where I sat on an extra chair.
My fidgeting fingers on my lap seemed to betray my nervous state, making me feel embarrassingly exposed.
It was probably too late, but my voice felt stiff too.
What’s going on?
The chat was scrolling like crazy—is this okay?
“Boring? I’ll have you know I’ve got hundreds of thousands of subscribers.”
“That’s a lot?”
“Ugh… Folks, look at this. I bring home the cash, and this is how my family treats me.”
Whether he knew my inner turmoil or not, Sanghyeon tossed out comments and chuckled as if nothing was wrong.
His eyes subtly darted up and down, probably scanning the fast-moving chat.
Judging by his reaction, the viewers’ response didn’t seem too bad, which was a relief, I guess.
“The problem is you don’t play games, Sis.
Is it weird for someone who doesn’t care about games to find a gaming stream boring?”
“…Fair point.”
“Hey, don’t bully my sister. She’s right.
You guys have been with me for years—who’re you rooting for, me or her, huh?”
While I was quietly pondering what “acting normal” meant, Sanghyeon kept talking to me casually, as if it was nothing.
I thought he wasn’t paying attention, but maybe he noticed my awkwardness and was trying to ease me into it.
The way he kept up with the chat—barely readable to me—while responding was both impressive and endearing.
I didn’t know him inside out, but I thought I knew my family well enough.
Seeing this mature side of my brother, whom I’d always thought of as immature, felt oddly fascinating.
He’s grown up, hasn’t he?
“This won’t do. I need to make her feel my authority, not as family, but as a person.”
“Ugh.”
“Wow, did you hear that, folks? I’m trying hard, and she goes ‘ugh.’
This is the true nature of the person you all called a soothing angel based on her voice.”
What a clown.
Somewhere along the line, I noticed my fidgeting fingers had stopped trembling.
He’s more reliable than he seems.
“Alright, alright. Do your best. Make me interested in games.”
Maybe because I’m shorter now, stretching to pat his hair felt slightly awkward.
The slightly curly texture.
Forgetting the screen for a moment, Sanghyeon turned to me with a blank expression, then spoke with a hint of disbelief after a brief silence.
“…Sis, come on. At this age?”
“I used to do it all the time when you were little.”
“I’m not little anymore.”
Exchanging silly banter, I let out a smile without realizing it.
My scattered thoughts finally felt like they were settling.
The chat, which I’d thought was just endlessly scrolling, slowed down enough for me to catch glimpses of it.
I couldn’t read every line, but it seemed to be warm comments about our sibling dynamic.
“Sis… I’m… dying? What does that mean?”
“Alright, let’s queue up! Sis, any champ you want to see?”
“No, why are people suddenly saying they’re dying?”
“How about champs after Seraphine? Ever seen Viego?!”
Answer my question, please.
Part 10
Peaceful.
That was the impression most viewers had watching Cheungjeokun and his sister, Yoonseo, interact.
Her voice was a bit high-pitched but soft and gentle, the kind that put listeners at ease.
Cheungjeokun, who often got overly hyped and shouted like a maniac, was noticeably calmer today, perhaps out of consideration.
“Hah! That’s how you top solo! Straight to a gang win!”
“Wow, you got a 3250 RP skin right off the bat? Even I, a non-gamer, heard people call it a cash grab.”
– If it was a Sona remake, it wouldn’t have gotten so much hate.
– Fight me! That thing’s so annoying.
– Stealing KDA’s center spot was too much, lol.
“Hold on, wasn’t the center Ari?”
“…Guys, I just outplayed the enemy jungler and survived. Hello?”
– Champ’s OP.
– Champ’s OP.
– When’s Viego getting nerfed?
“You guys! I’m the star of this stream! Stop chatting and praise my dazzling plays!”
Despite his exaggerated shoulder-shaking complaints, Cheungjeokun’s face betrayed a suppressed grin.
Some might’ve thought Yoonseo had a gloomy vibe or something off about her, based on Cheungjeokun’s past comments.
But now, viewers saw her as just a guest, nothing more.
All that was visible was part of her arm, a bit of her side, and a glimpse of her thigh between the desk.
Her soft-spoken replies to occasional questions were all she contributed, yet viewers felt they somehow knew who “Cheungjeokun’s sister” was.
A transparent person.
That was the first impression solidifying around her.
– Can’t we just see your sister’s face once?
– Why do people keep asking when he said no?
– Even the complainers are curious, lol.
About fifteen minutes had passed since Yoonseo’s appearance.
The topic had come up during the brief pre-game chat, and Cheungjeokun had warned against it, so his smile froze when it resurfaced.
“Hey, don’t fight, guys.”
The chat heated up instantly.
A few users using excessive profanity were banned, and while managers and Cheungjeokun tried to mediate, the spark showed no sign of dying down.
“Come on, no means no. I went through all that to bring her here, and you guys are doing this? We agreed not to.”
The debate—not quite a debate—intensified.
As the number of banned users grew, Yoonseo, who’d been silently watching, spoke up just as Cheungjeokun started to get genuinely annoyed.
“Sorry, everyone.”
His character, which hadn’t stopped moving since the game started, froze.
His gaze, never leaving the screen, turned to Yoonseo, full of questions.
“I’ve got some personal reasons, so showing my face is a bit tough.
I can’t go into details, but I’ve already caused a lot of worry.”
Two weeks in a coma.
Psychological instability.
Her brother’s concern about her appearing on stream.
Thinking of those, Yoonseo’s words created a ripple far bigger than she’d expected.
“…Haha, did I make things awkward?
…Sanghyeon, the chat’s not broken, is it?”
“No, uh, yeah. It’s fine.”
The overheated chat froze, as if doused with ice water.
It didn’t stop completely, but sparse “ah…” comments replaced the fiery energy from seconds ago.
“Did I say something wrong…?”
– No no no no no!
– It’s okay, Sis!!!!!
– We’re so sorry…
– I’m even sorrier, Sis!!!!!!!
“Huh…? What?”
The sudden shift in mood.
A wave of crying emojis.
Knowing it was the effect of his half-true lies, Cheungjeokun prayed Yoonseo wouldn’t notice the cold sweat on his back.
“Sis, just say thank you.”
“Thank you…?”
Amid guilt and confusion, Cheungjeokun said this.
He couldn’t guess how the viewers’ image of his sister had shifted, but seeing her follow his words earnestly as the chat spammed “cute,” he thought, “This is probably fine for now…?”
He decided to bury the truth of today in his heart.