"Let's study together, Oppa!"
"It's already 3:00 AM, but if he's still studying, I'm not giving up on my exams either!"
"Oppa, don't forget to hydrate! Drinking water is important!"
In South Korea, the "Gongbang" (Study Broadcast) or "Study With Me" trend was massive.
It might sound a bit full of himself, but Min-jun knew his face was above average. Combine good looks with the prestige of being a Seoul National University (SNU) student and the sympathetic backstory of a hardworking orphan, and it would honestly be weird if he didn't go viral. Even his late grandmother had fully supported the idea when she was alive. Making money while studying for your own classes? It was the ultimate "killing two birds with one stone" life hack.
In a society where people regularly dropped thousands on plastic surgery to look flawless, his natural face was just good enough to stand out. He styled himself nicely—nothing too flashy, just clean and elegant, like a classic handsome scholar.
Thanks to taking that leap of faith into streaming, he was now making serious money. His monthly income was actually higher than most average office workers, entry-level corporate managers, and even low-ranked Hunters.
His channel was called "Quiet Study."
Why the boring name? Simply put, he was just too exhausted to talk. Between classes, exams, and life in general, the idea of constantly entertaining a live audience sounded like torture. So, he figured, why not see if people will pay me to just sit here and shut up?
And it worked. He wasn't the number one streamer in the country, but he was comfortably sitting in the top tier of study influencers.
His content was incredibly simple: a live stream showing 6 to 10 hours of him just studying at his desk or in the library. No talking. Just the quiet, ambient ASMR of turning pages, scratching pens, and low-fi beats. Occasionally, he would upload a vlog like "Exam Week Grind," "Eating at the SNU Cafeteria," or a basic "Library Tour."
Why did people watch?
Applying the psychology he learned in his classes, he knew exactly why they tuned in. Most came for the shared motivation—if this guy can grind for ten hours straight, so can I! But realistically, a huge chunk of his audience stayed for the visuals. The comments constantly compared him to K-Pop idols or actors, saying things like, "He looks just like Cha Eun-woo when he focuses!"
It was a little embarrassing to be compared to celebrities, but he wasn't complaining. Plus, ever since the multiversal Manager AI ability booted up in his head a few hours ago, he realized the system could subtly optimize his biological functions.
In simple terms: the Manager could literally clear his skin, fix his posture, and optimize his health, making him naturally even better-looking. He wasn't going to suddenly turn into some mind-controlling supernatural beauty who made people faint in the streets, but if he ever wanted to quit school and become an actor, he could easily pull it off.
But for now, he was happy being a streamer. How much did a quiet study channel actually make?
Here was the reality of the side-hustle:
First, there was YouTube AdSense. Since his videos were literally ten hours long, the watch-time was insanely high, which pushed ad revenue through the roof. With about 300,000 subscribers and 1 to 2 million views a month, his basic ad income hovered around 2,000,000 to 4,000,000 KRW ($1,500 to $3,000) a month.
But the real money was in sponsorships. Korean students are absolutely obsessed with aesthetics and productivity—fancy stationery, aesthetic desk setups, vitamins, and energy drinks.
He charged around 2,000,000 KRW just to casually use a specific brand of pen on stream. Integrating a study app on his iPad paid about 3,000,000 KRW. Taking a sip of a branded red ginseng health supplement? That was another 1,500,000 KRW. Just doing two simple sponsorships a month brought in roughly 5,000,000 KRW ($3,800).
Finally, there were live donations (Super Chats). His fans—mostly stressed-out high schoolers pulling all-nighters and lonely office workers—loved throwing money at the screen at 2:00 AM.
"Oppa, buy a coffee!" (5,000 KRW).
"Good luck on midterms!" (10,000 KRW).
Live tips added another 1,000,000 KRW ($750) to his bank account every month.
Total it all up, and a college kid sitting quietly at his desk was pulling in around 9,000,000 KRW (roughly $6,750) every single month. Even if he hadn't gotten a full scholarship, he could have easily paid his own way through SNU.
Of course, taxes were brutal. The government took a massive cut to fund the Hunter Association, military defense against dungeon breaks, and probably a few corrupt politicians' pockets. But still, life was stable.
[Report. The user's physical condition is deteriorating. You are approaching your limit. It is highly advised to log off and rest immediately.]
The Manager's robotic voice echoed in his head.
Min-jun knew he needed to sleep. But how could he rest right now? The hustle never stopped! It was exactly 3:00 AM, and his "24-Hour Exam Cram Study With Me" stream currently had 15,000 people watching live. The algorithm was heavily pushing his stream, and donations were rolling in.
If he slept, he lost money. He figured he could push through the fatigue. He was young, right?
He ignored the Manager and reached for his highlighter.
Suddenly, an agonizing, electric pain ripped through his chest.
"Ugh...!"
Min-jun gasped, clutching his shirt. The highlighter clattered onto the desk. He doubled over, groaning in pain, violently bumping the desk and causing the webcam to shake.
Before he could even process what was happening, a blinding, explosive pillar of pure blue light erupted from his body, completely whiting out the webcam and lighting up his entire bedroom like a supernova.
"..."
The 15,000 people watching live were dead silent for about two seconds. Then, the chat absolutely shattered.
[User_99]: WHAT WAS THAT?!
[StudyHarder]: IS THIS A SPECIAL EFFECT??
[Jina_Choi]: OPPA?? ARE YOU OKAY?! PLEASE CALL 119!
[HunterFan22]: WAIT... IS THAT MANA?!
The internet didn't just break; it exploded. Clips of the blinding blue light instantly flooded social media. Viewership spiked by the thousands every second as people rushed to the stream. Anyone who lived in this world knew exactly what that bright blue explosion meant.
Min-jun, the quiet SNU study streamer, was Awakening live on camera. And based on the sheer, terrifying intensity of the light, he wasn't just a low-tier grunt.
[Report. The Awakening process is complete. The user has awakened as an S-Rank Archer Hunter.]
Still clutching his chest, Min-jun stared blankly at the glowing blue aura radiating from his hands.
"...What the heck?"