novelraw Chapter 24 : Broadcast Turns Into Money (1)
Chapter 24 : Broadcast Turns Into Money (1)
Broadcast Turns Into Money (1)
Early morning, at dawn.
As many people stretched to greet the new day, Choi Byeonghun joined them.
But there was a difference for him.
"Kkuuuu... It's done."
His stretch was to relieve the stiffness in his body after an all-nighter's work.
He had just finished uploading his edited video covering the final part of Bio Crisis—chapter 5 and the ending.
A heavy fatigue still pressed upon his body, but he didn't head to bed. Instead, he moved the cursor to his channel's 'Community' section.
[What game should be played 'Perfectly' next?]
[Hello! This is the editor and channel manager.
Feel free to suggest the next game you want Purple to play!
I'll be sharing your valuable opinions.]
[Participants – 3,238]
[See Results▽]
What he cared more about than the poll's outcome was the number of participants. Considering the poll was posted at dawn, the engagement was quite high.
'Yesterday, the broadcast's ending had about 2,300 viewers, with a peak at around 2,900...'
With the broadcast running late, some viewers leaving had been inevitable.
'Even so, more people stuck around until the end than I expected.'
A faint smile tugged at his lips. Wasn't this proof that loyal viewers were increasing, including those reacting in the community?
'2,600 people... Once the poll ends, I'll have a sense of which game brings in new viewers.'
That was the reason he had posted the poll.
By subtracting the loyal viewers' number from each poll option's total, he could estimate possible influxes.
'I'll discuss the rest with that guy at the meeting later...'
Choi Byeonghun left a message for his friend, who was probably still asleep, before letting out a long yawn.
"Whew... This is killing me."
He closed his eyes.
Sleep swept over him in an instant.
* * *
Early afternoon.
Lee Gyeongbok was sitting across from Choi Byeonghun at their usual café.
"When did you find time to put this together?"
"Hey, it's all about experience."
He was looking over the data that Choi Byeonghun had compiled—an easy-to-read breakdown of the Q-tube poll results in graphs and figures.
"Hm... But the number of participants is lower than I thought. We have 160,000 subscriptions, right?"
The Perfect Play channel's subscriptions had jumped by 30,000 compared to before, thanks to the previous video getting multilingual subtitles and the full hidden route story uploaded.
"Even if most are international, is it not even ten thousand?"
Yet, the number of poll participants was just under 10,000. Since the poll had been posted in Korean, it was possible foreigners hadn't participated, but it still felt like a small amount.
"Hey, that's normal."
"Normal?"
"Think about it. Q-tube subscribers want the 'videos,' not 'Purple.' Of course only a few subscribers check the community."
"Well, that's true."
"Yeah, man. I was actually surprised that it was that many."
"That counts as a lot?"
"Of course. Even Q-tubers with a million subscriptions have participation rates below 20%. We have fewer than 40,000 Korean subscriptions, but a 25% participation rate."
Hearing this, Lee Gyeongbok nodded.
"Huh, I didn't know that. That means a lot of people like us enough to participate."
"Exactly. But don't get too excited."
"Why not?"
"They're not all people who'll come to the broadcast."
Choi Byeonghun casually adjusted the smart link, displaying a graph as a hologram.
[1st – Davaec (2,126)]
[2nd – Elden Soul (1,981)]
[3rd – Gunner Ground (1,722)]
[4th – Falling People (1,311)]
...
Below that, tally counts were shown by ranking.
"As you can see, tastes are divided, right? Even for the top spots, there's barely 2,000 votes. When you change games, viewership will drop."
"Well, sure. Most people came for Bark."
"Yeah. Also, remember, this is just Q-tube subscribers. They're not all live viewers. There'll be a bigger drop than you think."
Watching his friend's serious expression, Choi Byeonghun observed quietly.
'Even if he's mentally tough, that's got to sting a bit.'
Still, he had a reason to face reality together with him.
He'd seen the rise and fall of many streamers who became popular overnight, and knew exactly how they crumbled.
'What's more important than the first content is the second.'
When the first content succeeds, the streamer gets hopeful and enthusiastic. But after it ends, it's only natural for some viewers to leave.
But streamers don't accept that reality easily.
'When viewers drop, you get anxious.'
Was it something you did wrong? Was the timing off? The streamer tries to find the cause in all directions.
Wrong conclusions lead to wrong results. The streamer forgets their strengths, starts copying others or acts rashly, changing broadcast times frequently, and starts to unravel.
'That's the start of a vicious cycle.'
Naturally, even loyal viewers leave when they see that, leading to more poor decisions as panic sets in.
And ultimately, they leave the broadcasting industry in silence.
'Even though with Gyeongbok's mentality, I doubt that'll happen, it's better to set expectations low.'
Most streamers had no one to support them after their initial burst. But Lee Gyeongbok had him.
Choi Byeonghun gathered this data to support his friend as both a friend and an editor.
"Mmm... Guess there's no helping it."
Amidst this, Lee Gyeongbok finished thinking and spoke up.
"So, don't get your hopes too high for today's broadcast..."
"Let's take this weekend off from broadcasting."
Before Choi Byeonghun could finish, the announcement came out of nowhere.
"... What?"
He blinked at Lee Gyeongbok. It was only natural for viewership to peak during weekends, when people had more free time.
And yet, he wanted to take a break?
"I need some time to think about what to play next. I appreciate the subscriber polls, but I want to see what I'm actually drawn to."
Lee Gyeongbok calmly explained his thought process.
"I have to enjoy what I'm doing to make the broadcast fun."
The streamer enjoying himself was the prerequisite for viewer enjoyment. Lee Gyeongbok had no intention of breaking that rule.
"I'm sorry after all your effort, but I think I had the priorities backwards—playing the games people request."
"No need to apologize but..."
"Besides, you need a break too."
"Huh?"
Choi Byeonghun blinked. Why was the topic shifting to him suddenly?
"Honestly, I don't know much about video editing, but you've been working way too hard lately."
Lee Gyeongbok knew his friend's routines well. He could easily sense that ever since the broadcast began, his friend had been sacrificing sleep and pouring all his energy into work.
"We're not just doing this for a one-shot cashout, right? I want to keep broadcasting for a long time, so let's manage our condition. Otherwise, people might think I'm a black company CEO or something."
Thinking of the stream chat, Lee Gyeongbok chuckled.
Hearing this, Choi Byeonghun felt as if he'd been hit over the head.
'Turns out I was the one being impatient.'
He'd convinced himself he couldn't let go of the momentum Lee Gyeongbok had created. That's why he'd been pulling all-nighters, editing videos during the live broadcasts and even after they were over.
And that wasn't all.
He called it "resting" by checking out community reactions, but for the last week he'd been skipping proper meals and cutting back on sleep.
'I just thought you need to row when the water comes in.'
It was almost an obsession.
Thinking that, since he was the one who got his friend into the industry, he needed to show results. And he grew increasingly intoxicated by that visible success.
But after re-examining it, he realized there was no need for that.
'This guy could bring in momentum whenever he wanted.'
Lee Gyeongbok was a genius operating on a different level. He didn't wait for opportunities to come—he drew them in himself.
Accepting that fact brought him peace. The care his friend showed naturally made him smile.
"Hey, with my experience, you think I can't take care of myself?"
"Oh? So that's how your face normally looks?"
"Hey now. If I really looked after myself, I'd quit editing and go for a boy-cam stream, you know?"
"That's pretty brash talk, huh?"
The banter continued, but then Choi Byeonghun returned to a serious expression.
"Hey, since we're talking about taking a break, there's something I wanted to discuss."
"What is it?"
"You saw those toxic chats last time, right?"
"Toxic chats? Ah..."
Lee Gyeongbok's glabella furrowed slightly.
It had been during the boss fight with Overlord, when he announced he'd fight without a rocket launcher, and Overlord entered phase 2.
Other viewers tried to recommend the rocket launcher, but then some chats took his words and began to provoke and escalate things.
"You saw it yourself—those jerks will do anything to avoid getting flagged by the moderation bot."
A bit of roughness entered Choi Byeonghun's tone, perhaps recalling his own irritation.
"The moderation bot wasn't able to filter them out."
"Yeah. You took them down by skill, but those toxic viewers ruin the mood for everyone else, too."
"They really do. Kills my focus on the game for no reason."
"Exactly. It didn't become a big deal during Bark because your skills were already proven—viewers knew you were up to the challenge."
"Mmm... So you think those toxic types will be bolder with the next game?"
"Right. Why? Because it's a new game, viewers won't have a reason to defend you."
"So shouldn't I just prove myself again?"
"You should, and you can—but with new viewers coming in, toxic chatters are inevitable. They target rising streamers like you, who are gaining traction."
As an editor, Choi Byeonghun was well aware of how toxic viewers operated. In the end, stirring up fights was all about getting attention from the streamer and other viewers.
"Established streamers with big fanbases don't budge—they even get backlash from trying too hard. On the other hand, bothering low-tier streamers doesn't get a reaction, so it's no fun."
"My stream fills that gap—it has decent viewership but a shallow fanbase, so it's a great playground."
"Exactly. So, what I'm saying is..."
Choi Byeonghun leaned forward, face serious.
"Like I said before, it's about time we get a manager."
"A manager..."
The need for a manager.
It was a topic that had come up once before.
Choi Byeonghun manipulated the smart link again, bringing up an email via hologram.
"What's this?"
"I saw it this morning—an email from an MCN."
"From an MCN?"
"Not a big one. Looks like a startup."
Lee Gyeongbok shook his head, face stiff.
"Hmm... I don't want to be tied down somewhere yet."
If you signed with an MCN, a manager would be assigned. They'd also handle advertisements or sponsorship contract intermediary, q-tube channel management, connecting fans and creators, arranging external events, and more.
But to Lee Gyeongbok, that kind of help wasn't needed yet.
"Good, I agree."
"Then why are you showing me this?"
"... So I can cut it off at my level?"
"Oh, right."
"And with your potential, it's obvious you'll get contacted by bigger MCNs later. There's no point tying yourself up with a tiny startup now."
Once the channel grew, signing with an MCN would be inevitable. But Choi Byeonghun was convinced Lee Gyeongbok was still underrated.
Once his value was known, a large MCN would definitely approach first.
"Anyway, back to the manager."
"You said you'll cut the contract? Are we recruiting ourselves?"
"Yeah."
"... You already have someone in mind?"
Lee Gyeongbok asked at Choi Byeonghun's immediate answer.
"Juho."
"... Park Juho?"
"He's someone we can trust."
Park Juho.
He'd been friends with both Choi Byeonghun and Lee Gyeongbok for ten years, but unlike them, he was good at academics.
"Hmm... Will he really quit a good job for this?"
"I think he will. The guy's good at scheming, you know?"
"He'll actually come?"
"Yeah. I don't know all the details, but he could make a lot more than his current salary here. Plus, the work hours are flexible and the stress would be much lower."
"Make more?"
"... You haven't seen how much we've earned so far?"
"Oh."
At Choi Byeonghun's question, Lee Gyeongbok finally considered the money. He'd been so absorbed in the broadcast's fun that he hadn't checked it at all.
"How much?"
"Haaa... Just check for yourself."
Letting out a wry chuckle, Choi Byeonghun shared the earnings via smart link.
Lee Gyeongbok's eyes widened.
"... This much in just one week?"
The amount was much higher than he'd thought.
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