Chapter 23…
After Lee Ji-han posted the notice about his streaming break for the new capsule and the announcement regarding the interviews—
Countless streamers wrote applications, either to become “Zombres’ vanguard” or to ride Lee Ji-han’s fame, desperately aiming for success.
Nickname, Zombres experience, channel link, and reason for being chosen.
It was the standard format set by Kim Ppongdda and Kim Suho.
Ji-han specifically wrote that he would focus more on the “reason.”
And so, the three of them spent their time busily putting together the interview content.
Since they had agreed to do this together, even Ppongdda kept the embargo.
Whenever viewers asked during his streams if something was going on, he brushed it off in his usual fiery way—
“Damn it! How much do you think about me, huh? Always acting like you care! What!? Hey, get lost! Get lost! Or ask through a donation!”
He put on every bit of his wild act to protect their secret.
Then the new capsule finally arrived at Ji-han’s home.
After installation and customization for Ji-han were complete, the deadline for applications drew near.
“Haah, I feel like I’m dying.”
“Still, it’s easier with the three of us together, right?”
“Yeah. For real, now it is.”
The three men, who had made a café their hideout, were already close friends.
Living nearby and being the same age was a huge advantage.
They’d lived through the same era, shared common ground, and that pulled them even closer together.
Of course, Ji-han, who had been exempt from the military, could only take part in those conversations in a small way.
“But a gymnast? Even part of the reserve team?”
Since Ppongdda had a lot of interest in Ji-han, he grew even more fascinated as he learned new things about him.
When he first found out Ji-han had been in the reserve team—
And when he learned Ji-han was once an athlete who broke all the unofficial domestic records—he got chills.
“Ah, so that’s why you could pull off those moves in Zeg. Same with Zombres. Now I get it. I thought you were some kind of martial arts master.”
While openly praising him, Ppongdda naturally carried the conversation forward.
“…Oh, hyperfocus. That’s a thing? Sounds really tough to deal with.”
He gave sincere comfort when hearing about Ji-han’s illness that had forced him to quit sports, and also about the unreasonable treatment he had faced at work.
Just because Ppongdda was called a troublemaker didn’t mean he really was one.
While preparing joint-stream content, they were growing genuinely closer as people too.
“But Ppongdda, did you prepare the interview content?”
“It’s Zombres, right? The game we’ll play together. So, Suho, what do you think is necessary to become part of the vanguard?”
Ppongdda, who had said he would take full responsibility for the interview plans, grinned as he asked.
“Ji-han, you know?”
“Mm, not really?”
Ji-han asked back with a much more relaxed smile.
“Zombres has basic FPS elements. So first is aim.”
“Wow, no wonder you’re an FPS streamer.”
Suho clicked his tongue.
That was how deeply Ppongdda was immersed in the FPS genre as a streamer.
“Second is creativity. People who can really show off the fun of Zombres. Like in a crafting competition—gather given resources within a set time, that sort of thing.”
Ji-han’s face lit up at that.
“That sounds super fun.”
“Right? I knew it’d be your thing.”
Ppongdda grinned at Ji-han.
Seeing that, Suho felt a quiet sense of relief.
He had thought that if someone else took the lead after he suggested the joint content, Ji-han’s self-esteem might take a hit.
But Ji-han was enjoying it far more than Suho had expected.
Of course, Ji-han was truly having fun with all of this.
Every day was filled with new experiences.
Even this tedious preparation time was as enjoyable as playing a game.
“And lastly—personality and aptitude.”
“Pffft!”
Suho burst out laughing.
“A personality test?”
“Well, it’s just an interview really. Didn’t Ji-han say so himself? That he wants to see how sincere, how desperate, and how serious they are about this.”
Ji-han nodded at those words.
“That’s why I thought, even if we skip everything else, we absolutely have to do the personality check.”
“Yeah, I’ve been filtering by paperwork already, but there are plenty of people with no data at all.”
Suho frowned, clearly troubled.
In fact, since the deadline closed, the three of them had been racking their brains to select applicants who’d pass the document screening.
“Known trolls or low-quality streamers, I’m excluding them right away. But like you said, Suho, the smaller ones are harder to figure out.”
“Which is why we’re digging into their channels and watching their VODs, right?”
Indeed, their phones were practically overheating.
They had been combing through streams nonstop to figure out what kind of people the applicants really were.
“This feels like we’re interviewing for some massive server.”
At that remark from Ppongdda, the other two turned their eyes to him again.
Ji-han in particular had shown huge interest the last time “big servers” were mentioned.
“You’ve done interviews for those?”
“Yeah, some acquaintances asked me to help. There are guys who specialize in running massive servers, you know? Roleplay fanatics.”
Ppongdda clicked his tongue.
“Roleplay”—the word made Ji-han tilt his head in curiosity.
“You do that too?”
“Of course. For example, the upcoming Life Server—you have to roleplay there. Even if not, TikiTaka is opening soon. Ever heard of UFC?”
“The martial arts competition? That old trend?”
“Right. That’s the real thing, isn’t it? And you know WWE?”
“Oh, yeah, that one I know. Pro wrestling. Still going strong, with tradition.”
“Exactly. That one’s scripted. So you can think of a big server as a mix of UFC and WWE.”
It was a slightly awkward comparison, but nothing explained it better.
“So, you set up situations ahead of time?”
“Not with a full script, but you read the room, match the banter. Some even toss lines back and forth like ad-libbed scripts.”
While carefully filtering interviewees, Ppongdda was also kind enough to explain all this to them.
“Ji-han, you’re really interested, huh?”
“Sounds fun. I’m excited.”
“Even if you don’t pick one of my students, I might just adopt you as my son and bring you along. I’ll call you when it opens.”
“Wait, son?”
Explaining further would’ve taken too much time, so Ppongdda just laughed it off.
“It’s a thing. Ask Suho later.”
“Oh, come on! Ji-han gets too obsessive once his curiosity’s sparked!”
Suho joined in the playful banter.
And once again, the three burst into laughter.
In that cheerful atmosphere, the preparation for the interview content continued smoothly.
