I Have a Reason to Hate Streamers Chapter 6

The tenth encounter with BluetoothShowerhead wasn’t particularly pleasant.

Even though his death penalty had been lifted for quite so ti, he still hadn’t logged in.

He only logged in two full days later, allowing to finish the last of the ten kills.

Honestly, what an inconvenience.

He must have thought I had no other targets to kill besides him.

It would have been nice if we could have just exchanged a few easy kills to complete the contract quickly.

I had a pretty good idea of what he was trying to do.

He likely tried to gather his guild mbers for a revenge attack.

But since he took too long to log back in, I started picking off his guildmates, and the ones who were supposed to help him all ended up as corpses alongside him.

“I hope we don’t et again.”

“Is... is it really over this ti?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that up to ?”

[You have forcibly killed adventurer BluetoothShowerhead.]

This is the difference that cos with experience.

I don’t just go around killing random players who aren’t strears or pro gars for no reason.

This is why I’m paid well.

With this unexpectedly long job finally done, I stretched and completed my collection of the paynt.

The tension drained from my body, and I felt oddly sluggish.

[System: 45 hours have passed since your last login.]

[System: Excessive gaming can harm your health. We recomnd taking a break.]

[System: Sweet dreams are better when your health is maintained.]

Maybe it wasn’t just in my head after all.

I had been logged into the ga for almost two full days. It made sense that my body was feeling tired.

I could push myself to keep going, but today, I decided to manage my stamina.

If I grabbed sothing to eat and went to sleep... I'd probably be out cold for at least 10 hours.

By the ti I woke up, it would be the weekend.

I had to go to the hospital every Saturday, and at least on that day, I needed to look sowhat human.

I couldn’t afford to be completely wiped out from gaming by the ti I went.

Just as I logged out of the ga and opened the connection device, a large shadow lood over .

“I was wondering when you’d co out.”

“Eek!”

“What’s got you so scared? You look like you’ve seen sothing you shouldn’t have.”

Sitting on my bed was a large man.

He wasn’t a stranger. In fact, it was the opposite—he was soone I knew all too well, which made it worse.

It felt like my wrecked lifestyle had been discovered by my parents.

It was Jung Seok-won.

He used to be my coach when I was part of the national team and still serves as a ntor to .

He’s one of the few people I still have connections with.

“With that big fra standing right in front of , how could I not be startled? I told you before, things feel different now that there’s such a size difference between us.”

“Well, I’d like to give you so space, but there’s not much room in here. And when you react like that, it makes feel awkward, like I’m committing a cri.”

“Well, you kind of are. It’s called trespassing.”

“You’re the one who gave the door lock code. And seriously, clean this place up. You’ve turned your room into a pigsty.”

“…”

Using the state of my room as a weapon—that was just unfair.

A low blow.

Only then did I really take in the state of my room.

The pile of trash I had let stack up was gone, and the old sll of ran broth had vanished.

Instead of the expected stench, the savory aroma of soybean paste stew filled the air.

Co to think of it, I didn’t have anything as luxurious as soybean paste in my house.

So, Coach Jung must have bought it and made the stew himself. It was obvious he had done the cleaning, too.

A sense of guilt squird inside my chest.

“I didn’t totally neglect the cleaning…”

“Oh? And what exactly did you clean up?”

“I was just about to do it. And besides, there are no bugs crawling around.”

“Just because you don’t see them doesn’t an they aren’t there.”

“Ah.”

My head hung low on its own.

Looking down at the floor, I was surprised once again.

I could see the floorboards. There was no dust.

I had forgotten what my room actually looked like underneath all that ss.

The realization filled with embarrassnt once again.

I said what I needed to say.

“So... um. Sorry.”

“Good. As long as you know. I get that you’ve been going through a lot, but don’t overwork yourself. I’ve been busy and couldn’t co by lately, but living off ran isn’t good for you.”

“I’m taking supplents. And ran isn’t as bad as people think.”

I wasn’t lying.

Ran is surprisingly nutritious.

Sure, it’s high in carbohydrates, but as long as you manage the calories, it’s not that bad for you.

Cooking and preparing healthy als takes ti.

I didn’t have that kind of ti, so it was more efficient to just rely on ran and supplents.

Not that I expected Coach to accept that reasoning.

“I figured you’d say sothing like that. Are you eating proper als at all? You look skinnier than last ti.”

“Isn’t being thin better than gaining weight?”

“That’s sothing you say when you actually look healthy. Anyway...”

Coach Jung’s nagging seed like it would never end.

As the verbal storm continued, I had a mont of clarity. This couldn’t go on.

No one knew better than I did how much of a ss my life had beco.

Trying to dodge every point he made was a losing battle.

Ti to change the subject.

In a very decisive way.

“Uh... how about we eat first? Honestly, I ca out of the ga because I was hungry.”

“Hah, fine. Let’s eat first. I brought so of your favorite boiled pork, too.”

“Boiled pork? I thought all you could make was stew.”

“My wife made it. When I told her I was stopping by your place, she prepared it this morning.”

“Oh.”

That was great news.

To be honest, Coach’s cooking wasn’t great.

As a forr sailor, he only felt satisfied if the food was incredibly salty.

I used to tolerate that kind of food, but ever since my body changed, my taste buds had beco more sensitive, and I couldn’t handle overly salty dishes anymore.

It had gotten to the point where I could barely stand eating anything spicier than mild ran.

The first ti that happened was quite a shock.

I picked out my usual spicy ran, but I couldn’t even finish half of it before chugging an entire carton of milk.

It was a mont when I felt my soul shattering.

It wasn’t even so super spicy ran, just a regular, widely sold brand.

“S-sir! Are you okay?”

“Ugh, I’m f-fine... really…”

“Maybe you should have so juice? Sothing sweet might help.”

“No... I can’t... fit anything more in... ugh!”

My tongue had gone numb, and I couldn’t feel anything but pain.

And to make things worse, my pride wouldn’t let admit defeat.

I had chugged so much milk that my stomach was bloated, and I ended up dry heaving.

Sticky saliva dripped from my mouth, and I had to hold back tears in front of the convenience store clerk.

No way was I going to cry from eating sothing spicy in front of a stranger.

Especially not from a simple bowl of ran.

Looking back, the tears I shed that day weren’t from pain—they were from losing my dignity.

To think that once upon a ti, I could boast about my spice tolerance!

Making my spice-intolerant friends eat ultra-spicy tteokbokki as a punishnt used to be my life’s joy.

Now, I’d beco so weak that just the sll of spice made dizzy.

Thankfully, I’ve gotten better since then.

Now I can eat mild ran without much trouble.

But anything beyond that is still too traumatic to attempt.

I doubt that’ll ever change.

...Anyway, when it ca to Coach’s wife’s cooking, it was a different story.

They say couples complent each other’s weaknesses, and Coach’s wife definitely made up for his lack of cooking skills.

“Just wait a bit. The soybean paste stew will be ready soon. I put so kimchi in the fridge too, so make sure to eat that later.”

“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”

“Good.”

As we waited for the food to finish, I felt increasingly restless.

The sll of freshly cooked rice.

The scent of the at wafting from the steaming container as soon as it was opened.

The nutty, salty aroma of the soybean paste stew.

Was it because it had been so long since I had a proper al? Or was it because I had gone too long without eating while gaming?

Gulp. The sound of swallowing echoed loudly.

In the brief mont of silence, my stomach growled loudly, demanding to be filled.

Coach heard it all and gave a pleased smile.

“Well, looks like we’d better eat fast, huh? Sounds like you’re starving.”

“Well, yeah. It’s been a while since I last ate.”

Damn this body.

With this female body, my face heated up quickly, and embarrassnt showed easily.

I felt my cheeks burning as I bowed my head in sha.

Coach laughed heartily, showing his teeth.

“Haha! That’s right, you used to eat like a champ when you were a player.”

“Don’t bring that up... but yeah, I guess I did.”

“Let’s set the table. Actually, no, sit down. I’ll handle it.”

Sadly, the boiled pork tasted amazing.

It was so good that I felt disappointed by how much my appetite had shrunk.

I finished my bowl of rice without once raising my head.