Gwanjongcheonma’s Game Broadcast - Chapter 169

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 169
“U-uh… uh-uh…!”
How long he had yearned to hear those words.
Ryu Hyeon could not lift his face, only a mournful sound escaped him.
The massive, tightly wound knot that seemed impossible to untie was unraveling, layer by layer.
Ryu Hyeon wept like a child.
Not just tears—his face was a smear of snot and saliva.
It would take time before he could compose himself.
Hae-rang stepped back from Ryu Hyeon and examined the Capsule.

The Capsule displayed its message,
while the monitor screen showed the ending sequence of Milksong.
After a brief blackout,
the footage of their gameplay and defeated bosses appeared in succession.
At the end, a figure who appeared to be the Developer made a thumbs-up gesture and vanished.
Someone out there had poured more than a thousand hours into Milksong.
If they saw this scene, they’d want to break their thumbs in envy.
‘Using the Lion’s Roar by wringing out the Heavenly Demon Divine Art—that was the right call.’
When Ryu Hyeon approached to open the Capsule door, Hae-rang nearly panicked.
If the game had ended while he was still inside, there would have been no proof of anything.
Hae-rang’s choice had been the Lion’s Roar.
Even without shouting loudly, a voice infused with the Lion’s Roar resonates deeply in those who hear it.
It was already proven martial arts from the press conference with Singularity.
‘Still, this really is a well-made Capsule.’
To think a Capsule could withstand the Heavenly Demon Divine Art of three generations.
The thought crossed his mind that even without a new model, taking this one with him might be worth attempting.
But that would contradict the purpose of why he had come here.
‘Thank you for enduring.’
Hae-rang stroked the Capsule once before turning away.
Ryu Hyeon, having already composed himself,
stood exactly as he had when they first met.
From his lips came a voice still wet with emotion.
“I’m grateful.”
Grateful for what, exactly—
Hae-rang did not press him to say.
“The very same words can carry different meanings, depending on who speaks them.”
Ryu Hyeon’s gaze drifted past Hae-rang’s shoulder to the Capsule beyond.
“It wasn’t because of the Capsule. The Capsule has no defects. The fault doesn’t lie with whoever made it. That’s what I heard countless times over the past few years. Even when a doctor said it, I refused to accept it. Do you know why?”
Hae-rang already knew the reason.
That was why he had proposed something like this to Ryu Hyeon in the first place.
“No one actually stepped forward themselves.”
“Sharp as always. That’s right. The Capsule has no problems. But among those who said so, not a single one was willing to board the Capsule themselves. Not one.”
Not a soul was willing to enter the Capsule in which his grandson had died.
Some feared the possibility, however remote, of an unknown variable,
while others openly treated it as something cursed.
“Then you—a complete stranger—appeared and said you’d ride in it. I was absolutely astounded.”
“Were you so astounded that you ripped out all your hair?”
“That, I apologize for. I thought I was saying things I didn’t mean at the time.”
Ryu Hyeon straightened his posture.
Then he bent at the waist to a ninety-degree angle, lowering his head.
“I offer you both my apologies and my gratitude. Everyone said the Capsule had no defects, but you alone proved it with your own body. You are my one and only savior.”
“I’m glad I could be of help.”
“May I ask you something?”
“Please do.”
“How could you be certain? That the Capsule wasn’t dangerous, I mean. The smoke rose considerably during the game, didn’t it?”
“I’m used to it. The Capsule at home often exhibits overload phenomena as well.”
“Is the Capsule at your home a regular model?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Well, that’s why you thought to seek me out. But the Capsule you have at home and the one I built are fundamentally different. Past experience with overload doesn’t guarantee safety.”
“That’s unbecoming language for a craftsman.”
“Hmm?”
“A demon sword that wounds its master. A famous blade that everyone covets. Both are equally difficult to wield. But to become the greatest swordsman of Gangho, one must overcome all such difficulties.”
“Suddenly talking about swords out of nowhere…….”
“A Capsule is no different to me. The moment I pilot one for the first time, I can tell whether it’s a demon sword or a famous blade. More than that—whether it’s a machine I can handle well.”
“You can tell all that just by piloting a Capsule? A Capsule you’ve never tried before?”
“This machine cannot dare to harm me. Because I had that conviction, I pushed it to the extreme.”
“Heh…….”
Air leaked from Ryu Hyeon’s mouth in a deflated whisper.
The Capsule couldn’t dare do anything to him.
What arrogance that took.
And yet, in his play just moments ago, Hae-rang had proven every word.
Even as he’d driven the Capsule to its limit until wisps of smoke billowed forth,
Hae-rang’s body bore no damage whatsoever.
“So. How was the sword I made?”
Perhaps because his doubt had been answered,
Ryu Hyeon’s expression brightened considerably.
In one sense, he resembled a child waiting for his homework to be graded.
Hae-rang had already proven his skill abundantly.
What remained was only his assessment of the Capsule.
“Have you heard of the EX Capsule?”
“Mm. I’ve heard of it. A new generation machine that surpasses the general-purpose high-end Capsules, or so I’m told.”
“I was invited to America by Gonau Soft. I piloted the EX Capsule at their headquarters.”
Ryu Hyeon’s face flushed.
“Why bring up the EX Capsule all of a sudden? You’re embarrassing me. I know this one I’m flying is completely outdated.”
“No.”
“Hmm?”
“Even that magnificent EX Capsule never gave me such a sense of freedom. Certainly the interface was responsive, and the sensations more vivid, but yours was the only Capsule that made a player want to dance through the sky.”
A small tremor ran across Ryu Hyeon’s lips.
Masterpiece.
What sweet, beautiful words to hear.
And not just from anyone—from a gamer he respected.
“I’m already looking forward to it. What your new Capsule will feel like.”
“I haven’t even said I’d give it to you, and you’re already expecting to receive it.”
Even as he said this, Ryu Hyeon couldn’t stop clearing his throat.
He didn’t want to show his pleasure,
Yet his joy was impossible to hide.
Whether blacksmith or Capsule craftsman, it was the same.
Every maker wishes his masterpiece to be wielded by capable hands.
Better to die clutching it than hand it to some mediocre fool.
There was nothing to deliberate.
The man before him was without question the finest gamer he had ever witnessed.
“Very well. I’ll entrust you with my greatest masterpiece.”
Ryu Hyeon extended a hand worn like burnt firewood.
His fingers bore scars and calluses scattered across their surface,
And carried a faint scent of oil.
Hae-rang knew all too well that this was the badge of honor bestowed upon a craftsman.
“You won’t regret it.”
Hae-rang grasped the offered hand with firm resolve.
* * *
A massive building situated in the heart of Gangnam.
LICA Total Agency occupies the topmost floors of that structure.
A mega-agency that contracts not only with the entertainment industry, but with sports figures and celebrities of every stripe.
In particular, it is the firm that has enlisted the most of those called the “Singularities”—the current trend.
“Surprise!”
A middle-aged man with silver-streaked hair plays the clown for a woman about his niece’s age.
Anyone passing by would feel their face burn with embarrassment, but there’s no such worry here.
This was a VIP room where no one from outside could see or hear a thing.
“The advertisements haven’t decreased—they’ve actually increased!”
Ding-ding.
It sounded as though his hands were ringed with bells.
A man known as the living legend of Rika Total Agency.
Beneath his graying hair, his impressive facial features were unmistakable.
Kim Hee-sung.
He was a director at Rika Total Agency.
Normally at this level, one would transition to administrative work rather than fieldwork,
but those who had reached his standing still had Kim Hee-sung managing them directly.
“Be honest with me. You were a little scared too, weren’t you?”
“Well, yeah.”
Ye Da-hong sat across from him with her legs crossed.
“You have no idea how shocked I was when you said you were leaving Singularity. But I got over it quick. You know why? Because I believed in you.”
“Director, you’re getting on in years now—maybe adjust how you talk. I honestly can’t tell if I’m having a conversation with the director of Rika or chatting with a nail salon owner outside my apartment.”
“Come on, don’t say that. I’ve been in this business for thirty years, and I owe it all to this warm, considerate way of speaking.”
“Right. Sure. So I just sign here?”
As if this were old news.
Ye Da-hong pursed her lips and jutted her chin forward.
Her eyes scanned the new contract terms.
“Since you checked everything beforehand, there shouldn’t be any issues.”
“Of course not. I twisted the Legal Team’s arm yesterday and got approval in a day.”
“That’s impressive. Ah, good—the advertising shoot is scheduled strictly after the Capsule Cup. It’s all correct.”
Ye Da-hong signed the documents and stood up.
“You’re leaving already?”
“I have to. The Capsule Cup is right around the corner. Right now I’m only doing Iron Fist training besides eating and sleeping.”
“Why work so hard? Just being on the National Team is already enough—”
A flash.
Faced with Ye Da-hong’s murderous gaze, Kim Hee-sung clapped his hands together sharply.
“You can’t be satisfied! No way! That’s right! Our goal—that long-held dream of winning the International Competition—is right in front of us!”
“Have you already forgotten why I left Singularity?”
“Come on, of course not. No way that’s possible.”
Kim Hee-sung waved his hand dismissively, making light of it.
Then, as if remembering something, he asked.
“By the way, how come there’s no news about that player’s endorsement deal? I haven’t seen a single article about it.”
“Which player?”
“You know, the Attention Seeker… what’s his name again?”
“Gwanjong Cheonma. Cheon Hae-rang.”
As if only now remembering,
Kim Hee-sung clapped once more.
“That’s it, Cheon Hae-rang. How come there’s no news about his endorsement?”
“Maybe he’s planning to shoot after the Capsule Cup like I am. Unless he’s lost popularity?”
“Still, you’d think I’d hear something about a contract signing. I keep my ear to the ground in this industry. But I haven’t heard a thing.”
“Stop worrying about other people’s rice bowls and focus on keeping your own pet in line.”
Da-hong chuckled and opened the VIP room door.
“First the calls dried up after I left Singularity, and now they’re coming in every day since I rejoined the National Team. If this keeps up, my pet’s going to run away.”
“Hey! Don’t joke like that with the door open! What if someone else hears—!”
“Ha, see you next time.”
With a bright laugh, Ye Da-hong closed the door.
Beads of cold sweat formed on Kim Hee-sung’s temples.
“That scary woman. Even the tiniest slight, and she goes and says it straight like that.”
Kim Hee-sung snorted softly, then immediately pulled his laptop closer.
He’d tried to ask through Ye Da-hong without being obvious,
but it hadn’t worked.
There was nothing for it but to act directly.
Ding-dong!
Don’t call it old-fashioned sales.
The most genuine way to reach someone isn’t email, or a call, or a thread.
It’s showing up in person and letting them see your face.
No matter how times change, this kind of hands-on effort has the highest success rate.
“I’m completely sincere about this—I just want to have dinner together! It’s because I’m a genuine fan of our Cheon, and I want to buy him something delicious!”
Hae-rang, who had been staring blankly at Kim Hee-sung,
soon broke into a bright smile.
“Of course.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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