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Chapter 24 of 100

Chapter 24 - Broadcasting is Profitable (1)

8 min read2,033 words

In the early morning, as dawn broke,

many people were stretching, and Choi Byunghoon joined them.

However, what set him apart was this:

“Ugh... It’s done.”

It was a stretch to loosen his stiff body after an all-night work session.

He had just finished uploading the edited video of the final chapter and ending of Bio Crisis.

Despite the deep fatigue weighing on his body, he did not head to bed. Instead, he moved the cursor to the 'Community' section of his channel.

[What game should we play ‘Perfectly’ next?]

[Hello! I’m the editor and channel manager.

Please freely suggest any games you’d like to see Purple play!

I will convey your valuable opinions.]

[Participants – 3,238]

[View Results ▽]

What mattered more to him was the number of participants rather than the voting results. Considering it was a poll posted in the early hours, the participation rate was quite impressive.

‘Yesterday’s broadcast ended with around 2,300 people, with a peak of about 2,900...’

The number of viewers naturally decreased as the broadcast went on late into the night.

‘Still, more people stayed until the end than I expected.’

A faint smile appeared on his lips. This, including the community response, was evidence of an increase in loyal viewers.

‘2,600 people. Once the vote is over, I can gauge which game will attract the most new viewers.’

This was the reason he posted the poll.

By subtracting the number of loyal viewers from each item’s voting results, he could get a rough estimate.

‘I’ll discuss the rest with the kid during our meeting...’

Choi Byunghoon left a message for his still-sleeping friend and yawned widely.

“Ow... I’m exhausted.”

He finally went to bed, and sleep quickly overtook him.

* * *

Early afternoon.

Lee Kyungbok was sitting across from Choi Byunghoon in a cafe he often visited.

“When did you prepare this?”

“Well, this is all thanks to my skills.”

He was looking at the materials Choi Byunghoon had organized, which neatly presented the results of the poll conducted on Qube in graphs and numbers.

“Hmm... But the number of participants is lower than I expected. We have 160,000 subscribers, right?”

The number of subscribers for the 'Perfect Play' channel had increased by 30,000 from the previous count, thanks to the addition of multilingual subtitles and the completion of the hidden route story in the last video.

“Even if most of them are foreigners, it’s less than 10,000?”

However, the number of people who participated in the poll was less than 10,000. Given that the announcement was in Korean, it was a bit low even if no foreigners participated.

“Hey, that’s normal.”

“Normal?”

“Think about it. What Qube subscribers want is not ‘Purple’ but ‘videos.’ It’s natural that only a few subscribers check the community section.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah, man. I was actually surprised by how many people participated.”

“You think this is a lot?”

“Of course. Even million-subscriber Qube creators have a participation rate of less than 20%. We have fewer than 40,000 Korean subscribers, and the participation rate is close to 25%.”

Lee Kyungbok nodded at his friend’s words.

“Ah, I didn’t know that. It means a lot of people like us enough to participate.”

“That’s right. But don’t get too excited about it.”

“Why?”

“Not all of them will watch the broadcast.”

Choi Byunghoon lightly adjusted the smart link to display the graph in hologram form.

[1st – Deva (2,126 people)]

[2nd – Elden Soul (1,981 people)]

[3rd – Gunner Ground (1,722 people)]

[4th – Falling People (1,311 people)]

...

The numbers were listed below in order of rank.

“As you can see, tastes vary. Even the top choices have a maximum of 2,000 people. Changing the game will likely reduce the number of viewers.”

“Well, that’s true. Most of them came to watch Bark.”

“Exactly. Plus, this poll was for Qube subscribers, not the live audience. The number of viewers will drop more than expected.”

Choi Byunghoon said this while subtly observing Lee Kyungbok’s expression. His friend nodded seriously.

‘Even a mental giant might be disappointed.’

Choi Byunghoon had a reason to point out the reality. He had seen many streamers rise and fall and knew how they could fail.

‘The second content is more important than the first.’

When the first content goes well, streamers are filled with hope and enthusiasm. However, it’s natural for viewers to leave after one content ends.

However, streamers often have a hard time accepting this.

‘When the number of viewers decreases, they get anxious.’

Did I do something wrong? Is the timing the problem? Streamers try to find reasons in various ways.

Wrong judgments lead to wrong results. Streamers forget their strengths, follow other streamers, or take risky actions, and frequently change their broadcast times, leading to their downfall.

‘That’s the start of a vicious cycle.’

Naturally, viewers who stayed will leave when they see this, and the streamer will get anxious again, repeating the wrong choices.

And they will eventually leave the broadcasting industry quietly.

‘Kyungbok’s mental strength means that won’t happen, but it’s still necessary to lower expectations.’

Most streamers who rise quickly don’t have people to help them. But Lee Kyungbok had Choi Byunghoon.

Choi Byunghoon collected data to support his friend and editor.

“Hmm... Then there’s nothing we can do.”

Meanwhile, Lee Kyungbok finished his contemplation and spoke.

“Yeah, so don’t get your hopes up for today’s broadcast...”

“Let’s take a break this weekend.”

Before Choi Byunghoon could finish his sentence, Lee Kyungbok suddenly announced a break.

“...What?”

He blinked and looked at Lee Kyungbok. Naturally, weekends, with more free time, attract the most viewers.

But a break?

“I need time to think about what game to play next. I appreciate the subscribers’ votes, but I need to find something that interests me.”

Lee Kyungbok calmly explained his thoughts.

“I need to enjoy what I’m doing for the broadcast to be fun.”

A streamer’s enjoyment leads to the viewers’ enjoyment. Lee Kyungbok had no intention of breaking this principle.

“I’m sorry for your efforts, but it feels like the order is reversed if I play what people want.”

“No, there’s nothing to be sorry about...”

“And you need a break too.”

“Huh?”

Choi Byunghoon blinked. Why was he suddenly the topic?

“To be honest, I don’t know much about video editing, but you’ve been working too hard lately.”

Lee Kyungbok was well aware of his friend’s lifestyle. He easily noticed that his friend had been cutting back on sleep to focus on work since the broadcasts started.

“We’re not planning to make a quick buck and leave. I want to do this for a long time, so let’s manage our condition. If someone sees this, they might think I’m a black company CEO.”

Lee Kyungbok chuckled as he recalled a chat message.

Choi Byunghoon felt as if he had been hit on the head.

‘I was the one who was anxious.’

He had thought he couldn’t afford to miss the momentum Lee Kyungbok had created. This led him to monitor the live chat and work on videos even after the broadcasts ended.

And that wasn’t all.

He checked the community responses during breaks and barely ate or slept properly for the past week.

‘I thought I needed to row while the tide was high.’

It was a kind of obsessive thinking.

He felt he needed to show results since he had brought his friend into this industry. The visible success made him even more obsessed.

But upon reflection, he realized it wasn’t necessary.

‘This guy can create momentum anytime.’

Lee Kyungbok was a genius on a different level. He didn’t just ride the wave; he created it.

Accepting this fact made him feel incredibly relieved. A smile naturally formed on his face, touched by his friend’s concern.

“Well, with my skills, I can manage that, right?”

“Really? So that’s your normal face?”

“Ha, if I manage myself properly, I can’t be an editor, can I? I’d be a pro at live streaming.”

“High BS content, huh?”

Lee Kyungbok joked, and Choi Byunghoon responded in kind. After a light-hearted chat, Choi Byunghoon returned to a serious expression.

“Hey, since we’re talking about the break, I have something to discuss.”

“What is it?”

“Remember the trolls you saw in the chat window last time?”

“Trolls? Oh...”

Lee Kyungbok frowned slightly.

It was during the boss fight with Overlord, after he declared he would fight without a rocket launcher, and when Overlord entered phase 2.

When other viewers suggested finding a rocket launcher, the trolls used his words to provoke and irritate him.

“You know, they do all sorts of things to avoid being caught by the moderation bot.”

Choi Byunghoon’s tone was slightly rough, recalling the unpleasant experience.

“Indeed, the moderation bot’s filter wasn’t effective.”

“Right. Fortunately, you overpowered them with your skills, but the presence of trolls can ruin the mood for other viewers.”

“That’s true. They distract from the game.”

“Exactly. When you played Bark, your skills were already proven, so it didn’t become a big issue. Viewers knew you could handle it.”

“Hmm... When we play the next game, the trolls will be more active?”

“Yes. Why? Because it’s a new game, and viewers don’t have a basis to support you.”

“So, we just need to show them, right?”

“Yes, but among the new viewers, there will be trolls. They target rising streamers as their prey.”

Choi Byunghoon, as an editor, understood the nature of trolls. They cause trouble to get attention from the streamer and other viewers.

“Established streamers with a strong fan base don’t react. If they do, it might backfire. But if you try to respond, the reaction is flat and you don’t get much attention.”

“Exactly. A streamer with a decent number of viewers but a shallow fan base is a good target for them.”

“Right. That’s why I’m saying...”

Choi Byunghoon leaned forward with a serious expression.

“I mentioned before, but we need a manager now.”

“A manager...”

The need for a manager.

This was a topic they had discussed before.

Choi Byunghoon manipulated the smart link to display a holographic email.

“What’s this?”

“I saw an email from an MCN this morning.”

“An MCN?”

“It’s not a big one. It’s a new company.”

Lee Kyungbok shook his head firmly.

“Hmm... I don’t want to be tied down to anything yet.”

If they joined an MCN, a manager would be assigned. The MCN would also handle advertising and sponsorship contracts, channel management, connecting fans and creators, and preparing for external events.

However, Lee Kyungbok didn’t need such help yet.

“Lucky for us, I agree.”

“Why are you showing me this, then?”

“...Would I cut this on my own?”

“Oh, right.”

“And with your popularity, a bigger MCN will definitely contact you. There’s no reason to sign with a new one.”

Eventually, as the broadcast grows, a contract with an MCN will be inevitable. But Choi Byunghoon was confident that Lee Kyungbok was currently undervalued.

Once his true value is recognized, a major MCN will definitely approach him.

“Anyway, back to the manager.”

“You’re cutting the contract? So, you want to hire someone separately?”

“Yeah.”

“...Do you have someone in mind?”

Choi Byunghoon’s immediate answer made Lee Kyungbok ask.

“Joo.”

“...Park Joo?”

“That guy is trustworthy, isn’t he?”

Park Joo.

Like Choi Byunghoon, he was a 10-year friend of Lee Kyungbok. Unlike the two of them, he was good at studying.

“Hmm... Will he quit his well-paying job and come here?”

“He will. He’s a master of calculating his moves.”

“He will?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he’s making more now than his current salary. Plus, the work hours are flexible, and there’s less stress.”

“Making more?”

“...Haven’t you checked our earnings so far?”

“Oh.”

Choi Byunghoon’s question made Lee Kyungbok finally think about the money. He had been so engrossed in the fun of broadcasting that he hadn’t checked.

“How much is it?”

“Really... Check it yourself.”

Choi Byunghoon chuckled and shared the earnings status via the smart link.

Lee Kyungbok’s eyes widened.

“...This much in just a week?”

The amount was much higher than he expected.