“Is this... right?”

Seo Ho-Su continued moving the mouse a bit clumsily, his expression unsure. After a brief moment, a notification appeared on the monitor, indicating that a connection had been successfully established.

“Eh, ahhh. Can you hear me well now? The video’s coming through fine too, right?”

After appearing on a public broadcast, Seo Ho-Su had come to realize that he genuinely enjoyed the experience. To begin with, he liked meeting people and talking with them. Casual conversations suited him, and he found himself enjoying even the most trivial exchanges. When he saw the explosive response online after the broadcast, he didn’t hesitate to prepare an internet stream of his own.

The video itself had been transmitting smoothly for quite some time, but sound proved to be another issue altogether. His lack of familiarity with computers made itself evident in moments like these.

- Lmaoooooo.

- We can hear you!

- Looks great!

- Absolute wall against enemies, total idiot with computers. 😂

- Ha-Rin’s dad, who only knows how to protect people. 😭😭

After checking the chat window and confirming that the audio was coming through properly, Seo Ho-Su greeted everyone again, “Yes, thank you. Hello, everyone. I’m Seo Ho-Su, Ha-Rin’s dad.”

As viewers helped him fine-tune the remaining settings, his broadcast was already spreading rapidly through word of mouth. It crossed borders with ease and reached overseas audiences as well. Despite less than ten minutes having passed since the stream began, the viewer count had already exceeded one hundred thousand. Even now, the number continued to rise in real time, climbing steadily without any sign of slowing.

- Heyyooo!

- Hello!!

- Seo hi!

- Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su! Seo Ho-Su!

With so many viewers, the chat scrolled upward at a blistering pace, refreshing several times each second. Many of these people weren’t regular stream watchers, either. Seo Ho-Su’s name was already known across the world, so some people who had never once watched a live broadcast found themselves drawn in. Perhaps because of that, unlike most internet streams, the chat contained an unusually large number of polite and well-mannered messages.

Despite the hundreds of chat messages bursting onto the screen every second, Seo Ho-Su had no trouble reading them. From the moment he had entered the tower until the day it came to an end, he had never once dropped out of the top ten. With superhuman dynamic vision and lightning-fast reflexes, he caught every line of chat as it streamed past.

He wasn’t merely reading them at a glance, either. He could process their content, sort through them, and think about how to respond. That level of mental bandwidth came as no surprise. After all, this was the same man who had once stood at the head of a party, calculating thousands of incoming attacks as enemies swarmed in from all directions without pause.

As the countless reactions poured in, Seo Ho-Su felt a quiet but unmistakable sense of gratification rise within him. Many climbers would have found such attention embarrassing, but it felt natural to him.

After all, people possessed an innate desire to be recognized.

They had been thrown into an unfamiliar world and forced to climb the tower with their lives constantly at stake. Every step had been a gamble, their survival hanging by a thread. Although they hadn’t fully understood it at the time, they had inadvertently played a role in saving Earth itself. Now, the attention directed toward them served to fill that long-unacknowledged need for validation.

Scrolling past rapidly were questions about Seo Ho-Su and Seo Ha-Rin, but far more questions centered on a single name, Kwon Su-Hyeok.

Seo Ho-Su briefly scanned the chat before responding, “Ah, you’ll be hearing news about Su-Hyeok before long. For now, it’s under embargo.”

- Embargo?

- What’s an embargo?

- Wtf? Search it up, idiots.

- No hands? Just look it up.

- The international situation’s been tense lately. Is this because of Light Su-Hyeok?

Things had progressed far enough that he could safely say this much, but going into detail was out of the question. The likelihood of trouble was low, but it wasn’t zero, and there was no reason to invite unnecessary complications. With that in mind, Seo Ho-Su let his gaze drift back to the chat to shift the topic. Almost immediately, something caught his attention.

- Mr. Ho-Su! Why is the minimum donation amount set to 30 million won? 💀

- Tried to donate and literally jumped. 😣

- Looks like he set it that high on purpose so no one would donate lol.

Those asking were clearly familiar with online streams. They were accustomed to interacting with streamers through donations and expected the same here.

Seo Ho-Su scratched his cheek, an awkward smile tugging at his lips. “About the donations, um, I’m not streaming to make money. Haha. I just set it like that as a joke.”

From the moment he had decided to start broadcasting, he had planned to avoid donations. While donations were often a fun element that added energy to a stream, allowing them too early could disrupt the flow.

He had anticipated that many people would gather once he went live.

It was only natural. There were only a handful of people on Earth as widely known as he was now. If viewership gradually declined, he could allow donations later, but for the time being, it felt like too much to manage.

- Isn’t he doing this on purpose to get 30 mil tho?

- LMAOOOO. 💀

- Bruh, who’s casually dropping 30 million as a dono??

- You never know. If it’s Ho-Su, someone may actually do it

Seo Ho-Su shook his head with unmistakable firmness. “Hey now, that’s really not the case.”

As the conversation continued, the chat naturally shifted toward his public broadcast. There were comments about how entertaining it had been, how moving it felt to watch as a fellow parent, and requests for him to share more about the Tower of Ordeal or Kwon Su-Hyeok.

“You’re all really curious about Su-Hyeok, aren’t you? To be honest, I held myself back quite a bit when I appeared on that broadcast.”

- What are you even holding back for?

- Wait, did they info-lock it??

- Bet those broadcast station clowns pulled something again lol.

- Didn’t they even ask if it was government-funded? 💀

That wasn’t quite what he had intended to convey. Perhaps because this was his first time streaming, his phrasing hadn’t been as clear as he had hoped.

Seo Ho-Su quickly corrected himself, “No, it isn’t like that. I just really wanted to talk about Su-Hyeok. Not about his current status, but about what he actually accomplished.”

Lowering his voice slightly, as if letting the audience in on a secret, Seo Ho-Su continued. It produced an immediate effect, as the chat surged with renewed excitement.

- Huh?? Why are they blocking Light Su-Hyeok’s highlights??

- Didn’t they literally say to talk more about Light Su-Hyeok?

- Then just talk about it. What’s the problem?

- Is Ha-Rin’s dad your buddy or something? Watch your tone.

- Boomer alert?

- Then is the Saint your buddy? Also, don’t you dare drop Ms. Ha-Rin’s honorifics.

Even in a chat window racing upward like a wave, there were always people who somehow found the time to argue.

With eyesight like that, wouldn’t they have become ideal climbers?

The thought briefly crossed Seo Ho-Su’s mind, and he cleared his throat. Staying focused on the broadcast mattered more.

“Hey, let’s not fight.”

His chat reacted within an instant.

- Sorry.

- My bad.

Seo Ho-Su rubbed the back of his shaved head. “Well, they give you something beforehand, kind of like a script. It isn’t a real script, of course, but more like a list of questions and suggested answers. Back then, I answered almost everything by saying it was all thanks to Su-Hyeok.”

Anticipating their confusion, he immediately elaborated, “For instance, when they asked whether climbing the tower was difficult, I said it was fine because Su-Hyeok was there. When they asked whether I felt anxious after the ninetieth floor, I said I wasn’t because Su-Hyeok was there. That sort of thing.”

It wasn’t as if every moment in the tower had truly been easy. Still, it wasn’t wrong either. Thanks to Kwon Su-Hyeok, much of his fear and uncertainty had been eased.

“They told me that if I kept answering everything like that, the broadcast wouldn’t really work—”

- LMAOOOOO 💀💀💀

- Seo Ho-Su, certified Light Su-Hyeok simp.

- I mean... he’s not wrong tho ngl.

Seo Ho-Su nodded without hesitation. “That’s right. I’m not wrong.”

- The way he said it so bluntly makes it even funnier. 😭

- FACTS LMAOOOO.

- But fr tho, why did Ho-su suddenly go live? Did he have something to say?

- Yeah, for real?

- Same, I heard the Iron Wall went live and thought something was happening.

- Nahhh, if it were serious, wouldn’t it be a full-on press conference?

Seo Ho-Su hadn’t considered that possibility at all, so he hurriedly waved his hands. “Nothing’s wrong. I was constantly busy in the tower, and once I came back to Earth, everything suddenly felt quiet. Haha. And I do like talking, so... Oh?”

He cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes widening as his mouth fell open in disbelief.

He had set a minimum donation amount of thirty million won as a joke. Despite that, someone had actually donated that much.

[Daseung1976 just donated ₩30,000,000!]

- You’ve been through a lot all this time. Thank you so much!

Seo Ho-Su steadied his racing heart and took a slow, deliberate breath.

Every nation had joined forces to ensure that climbers lacked for nothing in their daily lives. However, according to that agreement, that support didn’t come in the form of raw cash. With or without his needs met, thirty million won was an enormous sum.

Of course, prior to entering the Tower of Ordeal, he had managed to save up more than that through years of careful budgeting and restraint. This was a single instant, though. What he felt now reminded him of his first moments in the tower. It was a faint dissociation, as if the world had momentarily slipped out of focus.

- Wow.

- Are you kidding, thirty million won? 😂

- Damn.

- This is insane.

- Ikr. Told them not to donate, but they still did.

- Mr. Ho-Su’s expression is way too cute hahaha.

As expected, the chat window descended into complete chaos.

“Umm, Daeseong1976... this is a bit sudden...” Seo Ho-Su started to respond, but then he realized that the amount itself wasn’t what truly mattered.

The message attached beneath it was most important.

“You’re thanking me, but I am grateful that you think of us that way. Still, I’m not exactly short on money, you know? You really didn’t have to do this—”

Only adding to Seo Ho-Su’s slightly dazed expression, another donation alert appeared.

[Daseung1976 just donated ₩30,000,000!]

- It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of money. Use it to buy our Light Su-Hyeok a nice meal later.

Seo Ho-Su let out an amused, almost playful smile. “What? Again? At this rate, you could grind up solid gold and still have leftovers. Well, if you say you have that much money, I suppose I won’t refuse.”

When he had first set the minimum donation amount, he had assumed there was no real chance anyone would actually surpass it. He never once imagined it would truly happen.

Still, since the donor had openly claimed to have more than enough money, Seo Ho-Su decided not to burden himself with unnecessary concern.

“Are you a business owner? Or perhaps a CEO? Either way, thank you. I won’t just buy Su-Hyeok one good meal. I’ll treat him to a hundred.”

As he voiced his gratitude to the donor, Seo Ho-Su also sent a quiet message of thanks to Kwon Su-Hyeok in his heart.

Thank you, Su-Hyeok.

He didn’t truly need the money, but having it was hardly a bad thing. In a small way, it felt like he had been acknowledged to that extent as well.

Seo Ho-Su’s thoughts began moving swiftly.

He had originally prepared several ideas for the broadcast. For instance, fitness content, stories from the Tower of Ordeal, and even discussions about martial arts novels or fantasy stories he personally enjoyed. Not all of it was designed to appeal to everyone. From the beginning, the stream had been meant largely for his own satisfaction. As time passed, the number of viewers would inevitably drop from its current peak.

In the end, he had settled on briefly talking about the tower before transitioning into a fitness-focused broadcast. Now that this had happened, however, Seo Ho-Su abandoned the plan altogether and began praising Kwon Su-Hyeok with unrestrained enthusiasm.

He had worried that taking it too far would turn people off to the stream, but judging by the response, that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

“Anyway, to get back to what I was saying earlier. You all know this already, but Su-Hyeok is far greater than we could ever imagine, right?”

As expected, the chat’s response was explosive.

- For sure.

- Tell us some Light Su-Hyeok stories!

- Even the same stories are fine!

- Yeah, it’s fun because everyone tells it a little differently.

- Ofc! When you watch the footage, you start thinking, “Oh, that’s what he was thinking at that moment.”

***

Since Thunder Axe was busy, they had permitted me to enter the garden through the tower whenever I wanted. I already knew its coordinates, so I didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

The instant Doppy clasped my hand, I transported us straight into his garden.

Warm rays of sunlight greeted us, followed by a clear, refreshing breeze. Gentle currents flowed into my lungs, calming me.

A soft rustle rose as the leaves stirred. The sound of foliage brushing together mingled with the pleasantly cool breeze, weaving itself into the lingering warmth in a way that felt refreshing rather than sharp. From farther off, the sound of a flute carried over on the wind.

The melody was dreamlike and beautiful, subtly shifting with the wind. As I listened, I realized the situation felt strikingly similar to the first time I had met Ryun. I turned my head toward the sound, and beneath a World Tree, an ent stood, watching us quietly.

It was Ryun.

Seems like he has been well.

Compared to the time we had spent together in the tower, his expression appeared noticeably warmer now. That was only natural. Passing time beside the one you loved was something that couldn’t be exchanged for anything else.

Someone had mentioned the same about me, in fact. I had been hanging out with Ha Hee-Jeong when Hendrick had dropped by, and he had remarked that I appeared visibly brighter. Anyway, while it had only been a short span of time for them, it had been a long while for me. That difference made the reunion feel all the more heartfelt.

As I exchanged a silent greeting with Ryun, Doppy released my hand and suddenly started running.

“Ryun! It’s me! Doppy!”