Chapter 47

Chapter 47

 

—–CROW—– 

 

“This will be over quickly.”

 

Expensive entertainment content.

 

I’d tried many different types of content, but most didn’t get many views.  However, videos filmed in busy areas with public participation were doing surprisingly well.

 

Especially the punching machine videos. The ones where I offered a 3 million won cash prize (for a machine I’d bought used for 300,000 won) were getting a much better response than others.

 

‘I usually only offered 200,000 to 300,000 won, but this time I bumped it up to a million.’

 

It was a bit of a stretch, but…

 

I’d already milked the “strength challenge” content dry, so I needed to go big to leave a lasting impression and end on a high note.

 

After this video, I planned to sell the machine I’d been using for two years and move on to different content.

 

I’d already filmed most of the footage.

 

I started with younger boys and girls trying the machine for fun, then gradually introduced men with higher scores.

 

And the finale would be the giant in front of me, with his score of 988.

 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a smooth, stable flow.

 

I was about to count down from ten, hand over the million won, and wrap things up when…

 

“I’ll give it a try.”

 

A clear, sweet, and slightly childish voice drew everyone’s attention.

 

A relatively short woman with her face hidden behind a black mask and sunglasses.

 

She wore a beige coat that reached her thighs and black pants, her long hair swaying gently.

 

‘Seriously? Now?  Is she just curious?’

 

This would be a pain to edit later.

 

I needed to maintain the current energy and end the video with applause.

 

If this woman played and then left, and I had to restart the countdown, the energy wouldn’t be the same.

 

But I couldn’t stop her. Ugh, what could I do?

 

The final product might be a bit anticlimactic, but if I stopped her now, it could damage my reputation.

 

In this age of readily available information, especially in a place like Hongdae with so many eyes watching, if I kicked her out, it would be all over the internet, and I’d be bombarded with criticism.

 

For a YouTuber, controversy was the worst-case scenario.

 

“Wow!! We have a new challenger! Could you tell us how old you are?!”

 

“?? Do I have to?”

 

‘What’s that about?’

 

She didn’t *have* to say…

 

But there was such a thing as atmosphere.

 

This was being filmed, so even if I couldn’t ask for her name, she should at least state her age before challenging the high score, right?

 

She tilted her head, seemingly oblivious to the cameras around her.  It was frustrating, but I forced a smile.

 

Well, at least take off the sunglasses and mask.  Was she that ugly?

 

I hoped she wasn’t here to cause trouble.

 

I’d heard stories about trolls and troublemakers.

 

I’d learned about them from other YouTubers I knew.

 

Was this woman one of them?

 

“Is this…a broadcast or something?”

 

‘She just realized that now?’

 

“Ahaha, yes, it is~!  Have you heard of Wharton on YouTube?”

 

“??? No??”

 

I thought I was a somewhat established YouTuber with 100,000 subscribers… Her blunt response, as if she had no idea who I was, left a bad impression.

 

Ugh, I couldn’t kick her out.

 

“Oh, if it’s a broadcast…wait a minute.”

 

I hoped she wasn’t going to back out now that she knew it was being filmed.

 

That would kill the mood.

 

Just as I was starting to panic, she handed me her shopping bags and took off her sunglasses and mask…?

 

‘…Huh?’

 

“Where should I look to say hello to the camera?”

 

The youthful girl looked back and forth between the three cameras.

 

She looked no older than a teenager, with a small face, delicate features, and flawless skin.

 

She was so pretty that even I was speechless. She could make boys cry at school.

 

“…Hello?”

 

“Oh, yes!  Look at the camera right in front of you, with the microphone!”

 

A troublemaker? With a face like that, I’d welcome her with open arms.

 

And it was understandable that a young student wouldn’t know me.

 

I wasn’t some narcissistic YouTuber with millions of subscribers, expecting everyone to recognize me.

 

She took the microphone I offered, smiled brightly, and waved at the camera.

 

“Hello~! I’m a 15-year-old middle schooler here for the 1 million won~!”

 

“Wow! 15 years old!  So you’re in your second year of middle school?!  But the current high score is 988… Do you think you can do it?!”

 

“?? I just need to get 999, right?”

 

“???”

 

Well, she was right, but…wasn’t that practically impossible?

 

Even a grown man could barely reach 700.  Could a 15-year-old girl do it?

 

She didn’t look that big under her coat.

 

She looked rather slender… Was she really up for this?

 

“S-she says she can!!  Then let’s begin right away!”

 

“Okay! Mom~ Dad~! Your daughter is going to bring home 1 million won~!”

 

With an energetic shout, she stepped up to the punching machine.

 

She pulled back her right fist, assuming a somewhat decent stance, as if she’d had some training.  And then…

 

*BAM!!!!*

 

“???”

 

“???”

 

A deafening roar ripped through the air.

 

It was so loud and sharp that it startled not only the spectators but also passersby, who stopped to look.

 

What was that?

 

Did the machine just shake?

 

“?? It’s not coming back up. Is it supposed to do that?”

 

No way.

 

My trusty punching machine, my companion for nearly two years, had met a heroic end.

 

I was worried that I’d gotten too carried away, wanting to put on a good show for the camera, and punched too hard.  I nervously glanced at the frozen emcee and asked cautiously.

 

Honestly, how could I hold back when it was being filmed?

 

Like the old children’s song, “I wish I could be on TV,” everyone had a bit of a desire for attention, didn’t they?

 

That’s why I’d even taken off my mask and sunglasses.

 

I wanted to dramatically throw off my coat too, but I was only wearing a sports bra underneath, so I held back, worried about censorship.

 

Like a monkey putting on a show for applause, I’d gotten excited and punched with…about 40% of my strength.

 

‘?? Why isn’t the score showing?’

 

The impact had sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Ah, that felt good,” I thought, proud of myself. But the display went dark.

 

And the punching bag, now dented and torn in the shape of my fist, didn’t return to its original position.

 

Even for a beastly, impulsive person like me, with a semblance of human intelligence, it was impossible to miss the obvious.

 

Ah, I broke it.

 

So, the monkey putting on a show was actually a gorilla.  Shit. I was fucked.

 

Repairing this thing would probably cost over a million won.

 

I was fiddling with my hands, worried that I’d have to pay for the repairs instead of receiving the prize money, when the emcee burst out laughing.

 

“Haha.  Well, it seems like it’s broken!  But with a punch like that…it’s no wonder!  You almost destroyed the whole machine!  I think the winner of the 1 million won is…wow, our middle school student challenger!”

 

Phew, that was a relief.  He didn’t seem too angry about the broken machine.

 

He seemed almost happy that the flimsy, probably made-in-China machine couldn’t withstand my inhuman gorilla punch.

 

The crowd cheered and complimented me, so I raised my hands and jumped up and down confidently…

 

“I don’t accept this.”

 

“?”

 

“???”

 

The weak, muscular guy who’d only scored 988 glared at me, his pride clearly hurt, and protested.

 

Hey, you didn’t break the machine.  You’re just a loser who only scored 988!  Accept your defeat gracefully.

 

He was a typical example of a man whose fragile ego couldn’t handle losing to a young girl.  A budget version of Burari, the muscular pig.

 

His face turned red, his brows furrowed, his forehead wrinkled…he looked like an octopus.

 

If he didn’t have any hair, he’d be a bright red, hairless octopus.

 

“I have the highest score. Are you being biased because she’s a girl?”

 

“No, that’s not it. She won because her punch was strong enough to break the machine…”

 

“It broke because so many people used it.  Are you rigging this? This is a scam!”

 

“Wow…”

 

Wow, that was amazing. He was making up excuses because his pride was hurt.  I was genuinely impressed.

 

It was like watching a pathetic beast, drunk and crying, “The world did this to me!!”

 

But he was so persistent, it was embarrassing, even for a former male like me.

 

This was just for fun, for the show. It wasn’t even his money. Why was he so angry?

 

If he didn’t win, he should just accept it and clap.  That’s what a real man would do.

 

And he was making things difficult for the emcee, who was supposed to give me the money.

 

I had to step in.

 

“If you have a problem, let’s settle this with a duel!”

 

“What?”

 

“…Excuse me?”

 

Sigh, I’m sorry, Mom. I promised I wouldn’t do this again. I was supposed to be a civilized person.

 

But for 1 million won…Mom would understand, right?

 

If reason and conversation didn’t work, the only solution was the primal law of the jungle: brute force.

 

I had no choice but to teach this foolish, budget Burari the meaning of “survival of the fittest.”  He was trying to steal my 1 million won, after all.

 

—–CROW—– 

 

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