Chapter Title: The Lowest Rank Dreamer
Kim Tae Kook adjusted his cracked headset for the third time in ten minutes, wincing as the left side produced a faint buzzing noise. It wasn't new. Everything about his setup was old—his secondhand phone, his laggy internet connection, even the chair he sat on had one leg slightly shorter than the others.
Yet, despite it all, the stream was live.
"Uh… hello… is anyone there?" Tae Kook said, leaning closer to the screen, his voice uncertain.
The chat was empty.
A single "0" stared back at him from the viewer count.
He forced a smile anyway.
"Today… I'll try again," he muttered, gripping his phone tightly.
The game loaded slowly—far slower than it should. By the time the match began, most players were already halfway across the map. Tae Kook's character lagged behind, stuttering forward like it didn't want to exist.
"Come on… come on…" he whispered, tapping faster.
A sudden freeze.
Then—
Defeated.
The word flashed across his screen.
Tae Kook stared at it for a long moment before letting out a small, dry laugh.
"That was… fast."
Still no viewers.
He leaned back in his uneven chair, which tilted dangerously before settling. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of his phone overheating.
Most people would have quit by now.
Actually, Tae Kook had quit before—many times.
But he always came back.
Because this wasn't just about games.
It was about being seen.
Outside his small window, the city buzzed with life. People rushed past, cars honked, laughter echoed from groups of friends. Everyone seemed to be moving forward.
Everyone except him.
At school, Tae Kook was invisible.
Not bullied. Not admired.
Just… ignored.
Teachers forgot his name. Classmates forgot he existed. Even when he spoke, his voice felt like it disappeared before reaching anyone's ears.
But online?
Online, things could be different.
At least… that's what he believed.
Back on the stream, Tae Kook restarted the game.
"This time will be better," he said, nodding to himself.
Match two began.
This time, he landed early—but accidentally chose the wrong ability. Instead of attacking, his character spun in circles uselessly while another player approached.
"Wait—no, no, no—wrong button—!"
Defeated.
Tae Kook froze.
Then slowly leaned forward again.
"Okay… okay, that was just a mistake," he said, his voice tightening. "Everyone makes mistakes."
Still zero viewers.
He hesitated.
Then opened his stream stats.
Total followers: 3
One of them was his own second account.
Another hadn't been active in months.
The third… he wasn't even sure was real.
Tae Kook swallowed hard.
"Why am I so bad…?" he whispered.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
For a moment, he almost ended the stream.
Almost.
But then—
A thought.
A memory.
A voice.
"Even if you're the worst now… that just means you have the most room to grow."
His father's words.
Tae Kook hadn't heard them in years, but they still lingered somewhere deep inside him.
He clenched his fists.
"…I'm not done yet."
Match three.
This time, he played slower.
Carefully.
He avoided fights, gathered resources, watched other players instead of rushing in blindly.
For once, he lasted longer than a minute.
Then two.
Then three.
His heart started to race.
"I'm still alive…" he whispered, eyes wide.
A small smile formed.
Then—
An enemy appeared.
Tae Kook panicked, pressing random buttons again.
His character stumbled.
Missed attacks.
Wrong skills.
Everything went wrong all at once.
Defeated.
The screen dimmed.
The silence returned.
Tae Kook stared at his reflection on the darkened screen.
Messy hair.
Tired eyes.
A boy no one watched.
No one cared about.
"…Why do I keep trying?" he asked quietly.
This time, there was no answer.
He ended the match.
But not the stream.
Not yet.
Instead, he leaned forward and spoke again—this time, not to viewers.
But to himself.
"I'm Kim Tae Kook," he said, voice shaking slightly. "I'm… probably the worst gamer streaming right now."
He let out a small laugh.
"But… I don't want to stay that way."
He paused.
Then continued.
"I want to be strong. Not just in games. I want people to see me. To know my name."
His eyes hardened.
"So I'll keep going."
And then—
Something unexpected happened.
A small notification popped up.
1 viewer joined.
Tae Kook blinked.
"…Huh?"
He leaned closer.
The number stayed.
His heart began pounding.
Someone… was watching.
For the first time.
He quickly sat up straight, suddenly aware of everything—his voice, his posture, even his breathing.
"Uh—hello!" he said, almost too loudly. "Welcome to the stream!"
No response in chat.
But the viewer didn't leave.
Tae Kook swallowed.
Then smiled.
A real smile this time.
"Okay… I'll try my best."
Match four.
His hands still shook.
But something had changed.
Now, he wasn't playing alone.
Someone was there.
Watching.
Even if it was just one person.
He moved more carefully.
Fought smarter.
Lost again—but lasted longer.
And when he lost this time…
He didn't look defeated.
He looked… determined.
Hours passed.
Loss after loss.
Mistake after mistake.
But he kept playing.
And the viewer count?
Still 1.
Never increasing.
Never dropping.
Just… there.
Like a silent witness.
Finally, Tae Kook leaned back, exhausted.
"That's it for today," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
He hesitated.
Then added quietly—
"…Thanks for staying."
No reply.
But he didn't need one.
Because for the first time—
He wasn't invisible.
As the stream ended, Tae Kook stared at the dark screen again.
But this time…
He didn't see a failure.
He saw a beginning.
Somewhere deep inside him, something had awakened.
A spark.
Small.
Weak.
But real.
And Tae Kook clenched his fists, whispering to himself—
"Next time… I'll be better."