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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Conversation with Viewers (1)
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#Conversation with Viewers (1)
「Function Usage Guide (AI): This is a notification for user registered as B-612, Han Gyeowol, in the "Day after Apocalypse" world. The chat window you're currently viewing has user-set filtering enabled. Messages lacking meaningful content, repeating the same content, reported multiple times by other viewers, or manually blinded by the user will not be displayed. If you'd like to change settings, please call the control AI.」
「YeoMinROCK: Oh, seeing the Christian mark pop up means the streamer left the chat open.」
「Han-US Alliance: BJ is heeeereeeee!」
「Winter (Host): Hello, everyone.」
「DodoCuteBear♡: Kyaaang~! Hiii cutie oppa-yang! Loving the stream yo~ Ppuu♬」
「YourMom: Hey host.」
「Winter (Host): Hello, DodoCuteBear♡ and YourMom.」
「YourMom: Yep yep.」
「JessicaFullTime: BJ caaaameeeee!」
「SnowfieldFox: ?」
「BlackBroJi: It's you!」
「Mustafa: Confess your sins!」
「KimMiyeongManager: Spill it!」
「Jjarappappa: Spill it what lolololol」
「LooksGood: These retards syncing up like retards lololol」
「SnowfieldFox: ?」
「JessicaFullTime: Wuuuuwahhh waaahhh.」
「Winter (Host): What's wrong?」
「JessicaFullTime: What's wrong she says! Host, come on, let's fuck already!」
「Winter (Host): Fuck? A typo for the game...? ...We're already playing the game, so what else do you mean...? I don't plan to log into any other worlds besides "Day after Apocalypse" for a while, but if you tell me your preferred world, I'll keep it in mind for later.」
「BlackBroJi: BJ so pure lmaoooo」
「ChiliBeanHater: Pure my ass. Y'all just using outdated memes, you boomers.」
「ChiliBeanHater: Pure my ass. Y'all just using outdated memes, you boomers.」
「JessicaFullTime: Kids these days don't know "fuck" huh? You know, the thing that's good for guys and good for girls too.」
「Winter (Host): ...Are you talking about sex?」
「SALHAE: That's right! Why you ignoring me!」
「Winter (Host): Pardon?」
「SALHAE: I went all out and blew 100k on stars to post that quest... and you canceled it right away. Why you do me like that fr. ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ」
「Winter (Host): Ah...」
「SALHAE: After rent, food, commute, insurance, savings, housing deposit, utilities, etc., I got 200k left for pocket money, and I spent half on that. It's a fortune for me.... A 30-year-old ajusshi with no girlfriend prospects, let alone marriage, who just wants to slap the salami with a VR headset on, and you kick it away. Your stream doesn't lag, it's fun and all, but now my onahole's collecting dust with no cum on it, feels so empty.... Might end up raping Namsan Tower at this rate.... ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ」
「SnowfieldFox: ;;;;」
「Wilma: *sob* Yeah. Awaken, host. ㅠㅠ」
「Winter (Host): It's not because the money was small.... I just thought accepting it would break my immersion for a while. Sorry if I upset you.」
「DoomChitDoomChit: That's your issue. Once you start the stream saying you'll take donations, shouldn't you do what the viewers want?」
「Storm224: Shut your bullshit, DoomChit. Fuck, so many channels I liked blew up cuz of troll cunts like you paying to post shitty quests and backseat gaming.... He'll jerk off when he's ready to.」
「TastyLaw: ㅇㄱㄹㅇ Gotta admit Storm224's right, this stream is legit insane fun ㅇㅈ? BJ's improv is god-tier ㅇㅈ? ㅇㅇ ㅆㅇㅈ~ Unwanted meddling is the worst, tbh if you can't admit that you're a boomer newbie lololol whatever」
「Winter (Host): ?」
「SnowfieldFox: ?」
「Function Usage Guide (AI): Filtering option addition notice. Select block category for TastyLaw or use online environment search to interpret meaning.」
「Function Usage Guide (AI): Search activated, but auto-interpretation impossible per translation guidelines. Attempting translation engine update.」
「Function Usage Guide (AI): Update failed. You are using the latest engine version. Manual interpretation recommended.」
「DoomChitDoomChit: What the hell is that dog barking.」
「ActiveXFuckOff: Don't do that shit.」
「DemandRightsNow: ㅇㅇ Don't. I don't wanna see the channel explode. Even the top star-earning old fogey fucks up the flow with constant jerking, it's annoying af. I'd get it to some extent, but it's too much.」
「NoNickDrips: Keep it up host. Love seeing a host with backbone. Just keep doing you.」
[NoNickDrips gifted 100 stars.]
「Winter (Host): Thank you. Glad so many understand.」
「DeepOne: Still, 1k stars ain't chump change, and you shot it down without a second thought lmao. BJ's a total pumpkin head ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ」
[DeepOne gifted 5 stars.]
[ActiveXFuckOff gifted 10 stars.]
「OldConservative: But a week of streaming and zero sex.... Feels like blue balls torture.」
[SnowfieldFox gifted 100 stars.]
#Journal, Page 45, Camp Roberts
I heard I was getting a medal. The Silver Star and Valor Device. Apparently, these two are often awarded together for exceptional battlefield valor.
The U.S. government classified the giant monster I took down as a special variant and named it "Grumble." They said these things were popping up simultaneously all over the contaminated zones, and I'm the only one who killed one with just a rifle and grenades. The rest required attack helicopters or tanks to smash. According to the public affairs officer.
The public affairs officer who came from Washington for the ceremony always wore a gas mask. He only ate food he brought himself. He seemed extremely uneasy just being inside the quarantine line west side.
No airborne transmission cases have been found yet. If it were as contagious as he feared, the camp would already be hell. Everyone inside the barbed wire lives without masks.
He didn't just bring the medal. Along with a personal letter from the U.S. President, I also received citizenship papers. And if I wanted, they offered a wartime commission to officer status. The only price: a loyalty oath to America. Of course I said yes. I'd planned to join the U.S. military since accepting auxiliary status. Might as well go for officer over regular enlisted. So the ceremony doubled as my commissioning as a second lieutenant.
I got all kinds of congratulations from familiar Americans. According to Lieutenant Capston, there was good reason my medal was approved so quickly.
I was a billboard for the refugees. That alone, but now with the Grumble causing heavy casualties, it's different. I need to play the same role for U.S. troops and citizens. The emergence of this special variant—leagues above previous ones—is stirring up considerable chaos even in safe zones. They plan to make me, the sole Grumble slayer, a hero to calm the blind panic.
Plus, to stem worsening public opinion on refugees and serve as a national role model for them. I get it. The government's planning to hire refugees as mercenaries on a state level. So far it was the camp commander's ad-hoc measure, but now it'll be official policy.
Still, jumping from auxiliary to second lieutenant straight away? Billboards shine brighter the flashier, but this feels excessive. And I'm a minor. U.S. government's hurting bad. Anyway, no harm taking what's offered.
At the award and commissioning ceremony, some faces were notably sour.
First, Captain Markert. Seeing me in officer dress with rank and medals, he scowled openly. No wonder—he withdrew disastrously, and I cleaned up after. Other commanders wrecked by Grumbles got force majeure passes. But rumors say he lost a lot of respect from his men. Officer who abandoned troops and ran.
He never had much anyway.
Maybe that's why no one hung around the captain. Dodging superiors just hurts the subordinates, but he can't feel great as a superior either.
Among the refugees mobilized for the best photos, plenty looked sullen too. Not hard to guess their affiliation. To strengthen bonds, groups often share tattoos or marks.
Amid flashing cameras, the battalion commander read the president's letter aloud. Roughly like this:
"You risked your life—not duty—for 34 American citizens, saved America's sons from a formidable foe, and confronted a new national security threat with extraordinary courage and skill. As President, I thank you for your awe-inspiring resolve and sacrifice, and repay with fitting honor. I look forward to your faithful service as a citizen henceforth. God bless America."
Hard to be optimistic about the future, but hostile groups will have even less chance to touch me. People around me will acknowledge me more sincerely too.
#Executive Order 9066, Camp Roberts (1)
Officer uniforms were now an option, but Winter still wore combat gear. Uniforms were better for pure efficiency—leadership buffs. But Winter found it childish.
He accepted the offer for officer quarters. Captain Markert gave pause, but it was to build rapport with officers. If the camp collapsed or America fell to anarchy, best to have ties with those holding the most combat power.
"Hey, kid Second Lieutenant. Where to?"
A cheeky salute and casual greeting. Sergeant Cohen, still on crutches. This was how U.S. soldiers generally treated Winter. Not malicious refusal to acknowledge—not at his age. Admiration for the young guy's feats mixed with playful affection.
Not their direct CO anyway. They were National Guard; Winter was federal dispatch officer. No need to get formal and piss people off. Prove with record and skill. For now, just a warm smile.
"Got orders to form a volunteer platoon. Taking applicants from refugees."
Winter was pure billboard, hard to slot into existing U.S. structure. Even flashy record invites backlash. So command's idea: trial a permanent platoon of nothing but refugees.
Handy precedent: Korean-American Colonel Kim Young-ok leading Japanese-American volunteers in WWII. Battalion commander straight-up said aim to be the second coming.
Seems discriminatory, but it's privilege. Winter had full pick authority. Selectees get the quasi-U.S. status Winter had pre-commission. Given refugee conditions, plenty would jump.
In "Day after Apocalypse," if a government holds and player's a refugee, their feats affect refugee treatment and regime lifespan. One person sway that much? Protagonist perks. Butterfly effect explains it.
"Come with? Escort ya?"
Grinning black face seemed shady. Thought he was straightforward, no hidden agendas, but apparently not. No malice. Updated favorability said no hostility. Guessed his intent but played dumb to confirm.
"What do you mean?"
"Not Harvard smart, but I know street rat vibes. Grew up in the slums. Camp's full of folks dying to fuck over the kid LT. Can't let that slide between bros, right, sir?"
Slang and formal mixed messily, but warm consideration. U.S. escort smooths tons. Deters harm too. Winter smiles again.
"Appreciate it, but rest up. Escort's kid privilege, and I'm no kid. If underestimated, overcome with skill."
"Whoa, striking a pose."
"Was it cool?"
The last line, struck perfectly, burst the black sergeant's laughter. He grinned, offered fist. Yo, cool bro. Slum black style: call blood or not "brother" when tight. Winter bumped fists.
Wished quick recovery, parted. Not long after, Sergeant Elliot approached awkwardly, hesitantly. Thought they'd bonded post-Paso Robles, pre-San Miguel. Unlike limping Cohen, injuries healed. Returned salute, asked what's up. Elliot's question:
"Heading to refugee zone? Uh, wanna, um... I come with?"
Winter laughed heartily, said thanks but no.
"And when it's just us, be casual."
"Even with a meteoric kid LT, gotta separate duty and off-duty. Already hard earning respect. Maybe off-hours personal meet."
"Got it. Truly thanks."
VR nears reality, but this feels unreal. Can't be this many good folks. Winter saluted Elliot off, headed to refugee zone with lighter steps.
============================ Author's Note ============================
1. Noblesse at 18th, so pushing hard to hit 15th maybe. Just rest till Monday now...?
2. Hitting recommendations might help. Will it? Won't it?... Meh whatever...
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