Chapter 50: A controversial issue has arisen

“Why did you say that back then…?”

“Uh, w-well, that…”

“Feel free to just speak openly…”

“Y-yes, um…”

A quiet neighborhood café, particularly a secluded spot.

For a moment, Da-young congratulated herself on picking a spot that wouldn’t draw attention.

• Heh, look at this, Da-young. What a sight to behold.

The sarcastic comment came from Pepe, observing the situation from her bag.

Frustrated, Da-young took a cold shot of her Americano in one gulp.

‘To what extent? Let’s say it was like cancer cells themselves needing chemotherapy after catching cancer.’

‘Seriously, unbelievable.’

Da-young clicked her tongue, recalling yesterday’s grand conclusion to the self-proclaimed “Galaxy’s Strongest Editor Contest.”

‘How did things turn out again?’

At one point, the participants erupted in chaos over a single comment from the infamous A-jin Editor.

[DynamicRodong donated 5,000 won!

-A-jin, you dumb [censored], who do you think you are calling me trash? Where do you even live?]

[Wow, called trash, lololol.]

[Isn’t A-jin beyond redemption?]

[DynamicRodong, which number are you, anyway?]

[This is full-blown drama.]

[Editors battling it out among themselves… magnificent.]

While watching Friede’s stream, another editor even sniped at A-jin with a donation, turning the whole thing into a complete mess.

After all, these editors are people who’ve honed their video editing skills through blood, sweat, and tears in the competitive industry.

At least for those who made it to the finals—except for A-jin—they weren’t the kind to be dismissed as amateurs by a young girl.

They carried a sense of pride about their work in the field.

Naturally, comments crossing the line, especially from competitors, were unacceptable.

“Okay, everyone, please calm down.”

Clap! Clap!

With a sharp clap, Friede caught everyone’s attention.

Friede didn’t ban A-jin or the unknown editor who had sniped at her, nor did they impose penalties.

After all, it was a competition, and they felt a bit of provocation was tolerable.

It wasn’t outright profanity.

“Alright, we’ll start the voting now. It’s 7 minutes past the hour, so voting will begin at 10 minutes and end at 20 minutes.”

[Exciting.]

[Loading the bullets.]

“Duplicate votes won’t count, so our host will filter them.”

“Here we go!”

“Who are you voting for?”

[Hold on, don’t spoil it!]

[It’ll all be revealed through the missions anyway.]

[But who’ll win first place?]

[No idea.]

[Probably one of 1, 5, 6, or 7.]

[But 3 isn’t bad either.]

The time was nearing.

Friede glanced at the viewer count panel.

Currently, 18,687 live viewers.

‘Huh, we’ve passed 10,000 viewers already.’

Immersed in managing the stream, Friede often forgot to check the live viewer count.

‘This needs some control.’

If left unchecked, the mission voting could descend into utter chaos.

To prevent disaster, Friede adjusted the upper limit for mission votes and disabled multiple entries for the same mission, then started prepping.

“It’s 10 minutes now. Let’s begin voting. Everyone, submit your missions.”

As soon as the clock struck 10, Friede activated the timer.

The camera focused on the timer for transparency.

***

[YoungNoonaAndOldDongsaeng donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 4!]

[BearSoupIngredientPuu donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 7!]

[ZekeCarterBelt donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 7!]

[MidrEatingNoona donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 6!]

[CustomerKOUntilTheEnd donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 1!]

The mission messages rolled in one after another.

Because the notification sound had been muted in advance, there were no noise disturbances.

Although the mission amounts for votes weren’t exorbitant, the speed at which the mission window moved to the next page was intense.

With the votes updating in real time, neither Friede nor the viewers had any idea which editor would take first place.

The uncertainty only heightened the curiosity of those watching.

[DynamicRodong donated 10,000 won!

-Vote for No. 4!]

[Wait, was Rodong number 4?]

[Lololol.]

[Raise four, comrades!]

[RIP.]

[Well, number 4’s video was well-made, at least.]

As the situation grew more amusing, Friede suppressed a chuckle.

The viewers, sharp-eyed as hawks, spotted the vote from DynamicRodong—the same person who had sniped at A-jin through donations—and swarmed the chat with playful banter.

It was remarkable how they caught the constantly changing mission message in real time.

“Alright, that’s it. Voting is now closed. Thank you for your efforts. Before we announce the results, I have a few things to say.”

As the timer signaled the end of the 10-minute voting period, Friede closed the mission window.

With only the tallying left, Friede smiled warmly at everyone and spoke.

“First, I’d like to thank all the editors who participated in this contest. Honestly, I wish I could select all of you, but unfortunately, that’s not possible. If there’s another opportunity in the future, I’ll be sure to reach out again.”

This is how things often go.

When something you’ve poured your heart into doesn’t pan out, the disappointment can be overwhelming.

The aftermath of failure in creative pursuits can linger for months, such is the weight of this work.

Adding to the sting was the pre-announcement that the rewards would be far higher than the usual pay for editors.

But the participants had shown such dedication.

It wouldn’t feel right not to give some words of encouragement to those who didn’t make it.

Deep down, Friede silently wished for the best in their future endeavors.

Sipping what remained of a now-cold coffee, Friede continued their thanks.

“And to all the viewers who participated in the voting, thank you as well. This contest was so lively and successful thanks to your support. Through this, I’ve realized how much love this stream receives… I’ll do my best to keep improving.”

[Noona… as long as you’re happy.]

[‘Happy,’ not ‘happens,’ you idiot.]

[Yeah… that’s all that matters.]

[Why’s the mood getting like this?]

[Why do my eyes feel stuffy…?]

[I’m witnessing the tears of a generation.]

Riding the gentle wave of emotion in the air, Friede began tallying the results.

‘Still, there are hundreds of votes.’

So many people participated.

Truly, it was something to be grateful for.

After tweaking the panel, the results were immediately displayed.

The viewers eagerly watching the broadcast finally saw the outcome.

The grand winner was…

“A-jin!”

The controversial female editor who had disparaged every other contestant as amateurs.

She clinched first place with nearly double the votes of the runner-up.

[A-jin-kun, you did it.]

[Mom always believed in you.]

[She only won because she’s a woman, right? Disgusting.]

[Lmao, old dudes pretending to be moms is peak cringe.]

[If the margin’s double, maybe she had a point about amateurs.]

It really was a significant difference.

Even Friede hadn’t expected the gap to be so wide.

It showed just how much A-jin’s video had resonated with the viewers.

Or perhaps, her adorable yet somehow infuriating voice from earlier had played a part.

Whatever the case, it was a surprising result.

And now, it was time to wrap things up.

“To everyone who participated in the voting, I’ll be sending out pizza gift cards to all of you. Initially, I planned to reward only those who voted for the winner, but given everyone’s enthusiasm, I’ve decided to include everyone. Also, for the editors who unfortunately didn’t make it, I’ll be sending special gifts to show my appreciation. Thank you for making time in your busy schedules to make this contest shine.”

[Yesss! Free pizza, let’s go!]

[Our Friede is so generous.]

[She’s loaded, huh?]

[Even if she wasn’t rich, she’d make money in no time. No worries there.]

[The custom model she’s using screams money. This checks out.]

Amid the excitement over free pizza, it seemed like the contest was reaching its conclusion.

“A-jin, if you’re watching right now—oh, you’re here.”

Spotting A-jin’s username among the participant list, Friede casually called out.

“Congratulations, A-jin! Would you like to share a few words?”

• A-jin: Yes…..

Her message was oddly full of unnecessary ellipses.

When A-jin joined using the pre-generated voice chat code, the viewers erupted in cheers.

They had been waiting, already smitten by her shy yet adorable voice.

And let’s not forget, this was the same girl who had boldly called other editors amateurs.

Everyone was curious about what she might say next.

That’s when it happened.

[DynamicRodong donated 5,000 won!

– A-jin, you [censored]! Congrats on first place, but calling us amateurs was crossing the line. Apologize.]

DynamicRodong’s sharp rebuke echoed through the stream in a robotic tone.

‘Ah, so he really is an editor.’

[Lol, Rodong was sulking.]

[Friede said she’s giving out gifts, so cheer up, comrade.]

[What other streamer would be this generous?]

[That’s probably why he’s mad. The girl who mocked him as an amateur is now sitting pretty at the top.]

[True, that must sting. Lolol.]

As DynamicRodong’s presence reignited the mood, a sudden sound interrupted.

“Mi… Mi…”

A hesitant voice rang out, cutting through the noise.

It was A-jin.

[‘Mi’?]

[Is she going to say sorry?]

[Well, yeah, calling people amateurs was a bit much.]

[Guys, don’t cry when A-jin apologizes.]

Teasing her lightly, everyone waited for her next words.

Then, in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a shout, A-jin’s words reverberated through the stream.

“Crazy editors! You’re all amateurs anyway!”

― A-jin has left the room.

What remained was a collective silence from the viewers and participants alike.

[DynamicRodong donated 5,000 won!

-I can’t believe I lost to this mess.]

With DynamicRodong’s silent cry of frustration, an awkward hush settled over Friede’s stream.

That day, a new controversy entry was added to the Friede Wiki.