A dark room.
A single man hunched over the glow of his monitor.
It was Lee Young-cheol, known in the internet broadcasting world as New York.
Born with a silver spoon, this guy was surprisingly just a fresh-faced 22-year-old college student.
Even more astonishing, he was a top student admitted to the law department of Korea University, the nation's most prestigious school.
And yet here he was...
"Damn it!"
Locked in a chicken game with some anonymous viewer.
Rumors had spread recently that he'd somehow scraped together billions in donations, so everyone assumed he'd taken out a loan shark. After all, no ordinary person could make that kind of money legally in such a short time.
So that guy was bound to get caught if they sicced a tax accountant on him.
The problem was, this platform's anonymity and security were ironclad. To dig into one person, he'd have to hire someone himself for some illegal work.
Lee Young-cheol's parents were renowned as upstanding business owners.
If their only child got busted for something illegal, they might even disown him.
"Where the hell did he get that money? Did he really take out a loan? Is he insane?"
The one in this chicken game with him went by the nickname Bukppudeupppu, a major Big Spender.
Back in Choa's room, he hadn't seemed like much. He'd occasionally drop over 10,000 Bubble Gifts, but that was fleeting.
A true Big Spender was someone who consistently showered tens of thousands.
"This is weird. Really weird... Normally, he'd have run out of cash by now."
Thirty minutes into the showdown already.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Bukppudeupppu gifted 210,000 Bubble Gifts.
What started at 30,000 had ballooned to 210,000.
One more top-up, and it'd blow past 30 million won.
The drought of funds was starting to press in. Lee Young-cheol checked his account balance, agonizing over whether to push on or bail.
Quit here, and his pride takes a hit, but he keeps the money.
Keep going, and pride's iffy while the money's definitely gone.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Bukppudeupppu gifted 240,000 Bubble Gifts.
Curse words bubbled up to his throat.
How much illegal crap had that guy pulled to print money like this?
Having business-savvy parents, he'd long realized total assets and liquid cash were worlds apart. Even with 10 billion in assets, you couldn't mobilize it all.
But this Bukppudeupppu was like pulling "show me the money" endlessly in Starcraft—endless funds that defied logic.
Lee Young-cheol squeezed his eyes shut.
Lose here, delete the account, make a new one. People remember winners, forget losers quick enough.
Simple as starting over.
"Fuck, I'm so pissed I won't sleep!"
He'd decided.
Lee Young-cheol resolved to keep pushing.
Checking his account, he saw nearly 600 million won. He can't have that much, right? He had to console himself.
"Yeah. Unless he robbed a bank, no way."
If he had that much, why struggle with 10,000 Bubbles in Choa's room?
Didn't add up.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙New York gifted 240,000 Bubble Gifts.
Big spend on 240,000, fired off in Han Yu-jeong's room.
But then...
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Bukppudeupppu gifted 270,000 Bubble Gifts.
Casually bombing with more Bubbles again.
"You psycho... 30 million in cash like it's candy money?"
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙New York gifted 270,000 Bubble Gifts.⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Bukppudeupppu gifted 300,000 Bubble Gifts.⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙New York gifted 300,000 Bubble Gifts.⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Bukppudeupppu gifted 330,000 Bubble Gifts.
An endless chicken game with no end in sight.
Lee Young-cheol never dreamed it'd come to this.
Han Yu-jeong was a fairly famous magazine model with stunning looks, so he'd dropped by her stream a few times before. Unlike Choa, she was at her peak, making it hard to get in.
He'd hooked up with various Female Cam streamers.
Of course, he'd paid, so he expected something in return.
Who gives away tens of millions for free?
Using dinner dates as excuses, he'd sweet-talked his way into overnight stays. They seemed satisfied enough to leave their numbers for more meets.
"If I'd known, I'd have stuck to my usual rooms..."
This was a losing game, not even breaking even.
Weird, too. Opponent ranked 3rd among Big Spenders, him at 55th.
His balance was plummeting in real time.
In the end, he tapped out with GG.
"I lost. Lost! Fuck, how does this make sense? How'd he scrape that much in a year?"
If you could amass that, who'd ever stay poor?
Lee Young-cheol had no clue.
That Bukppudeupppu had won 15 billion on lotto, then raked in 3 trillion from Bitcoin profits.
No matter how much he spent, his coins mooned faster, earning more than he burned.
"Ah, screw it! Whatever!"
He hurled his innocent keyboard across the room.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The long, grueling chicken game finally ended.
'Oh... he's got some guts? Born with a silver spoon or what?'
Was I spending too recklessly lately?
The Big Spender showdown had burned a pretty penny.
'But I won!'
I'd settled an old grudge with my own hands. The real prize? New York was Choa's top Big Spender.
With that massive loss, she wouldn't see donations from him anytime soon.
Worth the win alone.
I logged out, snuck into Choa's room. She already knew the outcome—face dark as night.
I could read her mind clear as day.
Her biggest donor gone, she'd be drowning in self-loathing.
Checked her stream start time.
Six hours in already.
Yet only 500 Bubble Gifts popped.
'Heh heh heh, with New York, it'd be at least 30,000... 500? Pathetic.'
A tickle rose in my throat.
I whooped and galloped around the living room like a wild foal.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
I'd vanquished a lifelong enemy alone, no help needed. Dopamine flooded my brain; I was trembling from toes to scalp, pleasure overflowing more than any solo session.
"This... this is why I can't quit internet broadcasting!"
Sweeter than hitting lotto.
Sweeter than 3 trillion from Bitcoin.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Hee hee hee hee hee hee!"
Late night.
Screaming like a madman—would someone call the cops?
This was Hannam-dong, where tycoons lived.
Soundproofing was top-notch; no leaks no matter how loud. Makes sense for an 18 billion won pad—if it lacked that, it'd be a rip-off.
Gasping for air.
I calmed, rummaged the fridge.
Pulled out the whiskey and snacks I'd saved for this day.
Chivas Regal Royal Salute 50, untasted by common folk.
First unveiled at Queen Elizabeth's coronation, this blended 49-year malt and grain whiskeys, aged another decade for the 50th anniversary.
255 bottles worldwide.
I'd snagged one.
Through dark channels.
"Hee hee hee~"
13 million won a bottle.
I savored it elegantly.
While eyeing Choa's chat on the monitor...
💬 Comments— AnonymousBu---------God!— AnonymousNew York got fleeced by Bu-God lololololololol— AnonymousWow! Is it true Bu-God got hit with a Romance Scam?— AnonymousShe'll do anything for cash lolololololol— AnonymousNew York's money~~~ gone?— AnonymousBu---------God!— AnonymousBu---------------God!
"Hee hee hee~"
Laughter wouldn't stop.
A precious drop of 13-million-won whiskey trickled down my chin to the floor. Seeing her dejected face? Pure bliss.
I shut down the PC and hit the bed.
Buzzed just right for sleep.
Tonight, drowsiness crept in sweetly.
"Revenge isn't over yet."
Damn it, Choa's stream hadn't tanked.
She'd rebound easy enough.
Female Cams were cockroaches—crawl from the gutter back to the stars.
I'd seen it firsthand.
"Wonder what category she'll jump to next."
People might say I'm overkill for a mere Romance Scam grudge.
Real men let go coolly.
Fair point.
But I'm a loser guy.
I see myself that way.
Friends called me timid since school days.
I won't deny it. Loser guy? So what? I've got 3 trillion at my fingertips...
Egg versus rock? Nah.
I've got a nuke.
Wouldn't it suck to die heroically without firing?
"Heh heh heh..."
Before I knew it, the warm teddy bear from my childhood snuggled in my arms.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Oh god...
That day came.
The special day I hated most.
Chilling with internet broadcasts as usual.
When an old classmate called after ages.
Park Seong-ho.
My last remaining best friend, back when I had any.
"Do-jun, it's Seong-ho. You know about the high school reunion this weekend, right?"
"Uh, yeah? R-Reunion?"
Even Seong-ho, my closest bud, asked cautiously.
"Yeah. You haven't shown up in three years. But this time, you should. I miss you, and if we're not cutting ties forever... just once..."
True, I'd skipped three years with the sick excuse.
The issue was...
"Seong-ho, would the others even want me there?"
"..."
Call me pathetic, but I was a ghost to them.
Plus, I'd confessed to my crush and got brutally shot down.
Her showing up? No thick skin could handle that.
Utter humiliation, total trauma.
Chilly silence.
Even Seong-ho couldn't refute that...
Wait? I'm the 3-trillion rich guy? Richer than chaebol heirs? What do I have to fear?'
Shorter than average?
Pockmarks on my face?
Petty, narrow-minded loser vibe?
So?
World runs on money.
I shook my head.
No one in Korea had more liquid cash than me.
Not 3 billion—3 trillion.
"Got it. I'll come this time."
"For real? You're actually coming?"
"I'm coming, I said! Geez, grilling me like a detective."
"Ha ha ha, cool. I'll tell the others."
Thanks for the heads-up.
Time flew, weekend arrived as hoped.
Reunion day.
But a snag.
"Ah, what now..."
Fuck, the ride was a LaFerrari Aperta worth 11 billion won.
Show up in that? Interrogated for hours by classmates.
Me, rolling up in an 11-billion hypercar?
Insane. Total madness!
Lotto win was secret from family; no broadcasting to strangers.
"Just take a cab like a normie."
What's the big deal?
I'd decided: show face for my friend's plea, nothing more.