Moteok (1)
We chat idly for a bit, and the moment Maru arrives, we kick off our escape preparations.
"Let's go, everyone. If you die from here on out, that's it—straight to stream end."
"I'm shaking so bad. Please, please don't let it be a one-shot kill."
Moteok is making a huge fuss... Is it contagious? Now I'm shaking too. Stream end if we fail now? Whew... This is where it really begins. Suddenly, the nerves hit me hard. I always screw up when I'm tense. This is bad.
"No chance for retries?"
"None."
I ask just in case, but Maru shuts it down flat. I've never seen her this firm before. She's dead serious too. But... that makes it even worse. Based on the data so far, if I rank our skills... Moteok dies first, then Maru, then Raming... leaving me all alone. What am I supposed to do solo? Disaster. I haven't prepped anything—not even escape lines or solo mutters. Everyone's gotta survive to the end. I'm so tense I keep gulping hard.
"Alright then, let's roll out. Everyone aboard."
We pile into the car in perfect sync...
"I'm number three, remember."
"Oh yeah? When'd we decide that?"
"We set it last time. Move. Ugh, you're such a pain."
Raming scolds Moteok. Things are already creaking before we even start. Wait, no—they don't know yet. Like in movies, dramas, or anime, the fun team turns dead serious in a pinch and powers up. They just don't know.
"Fine, I'll take four."
"Good. Remember: you're four, I'm three. Got it?"
"Yeah."
The second we're in the car, Moteok drops the opener.
"We have to escape, okay?"
That's a total flag. In movies, anyone who says that dies first.
"You're doomed... Farewell, Moteok."
I mutter under my breath.
"Huh? Outta nowhere? Why me? Boss!"
"Uh... You heard that?"
"Of course I did. You think that wouldn't carry?"
"Yeah."
You heard that? I whispered super soft. Her ears are sharp. Gotta explain now.
"The one who plants the flag always dies first. You just planted one."
"Gasp."
"Right?"
"No, wait—then who...! Who! Save me! What do I do?!"
"Accept your fate."
I reply firmly. Can't fight destiny. She planted the flag; she owns it.
"That's too harsh! You called us comrades earlier!"
"Sorry."
"Yeah, who told you to flag?"
Even Maru's siding with me now. It's over. Fate sealed.
"No way... You guys... ditching me? Your comrade?"
"Not ditching. Entrusting to fate. How can mere humans defy the world? If we were strong... this apocalypse wouldn't have happened. Accept it."
It flows out of me smooth. I'm amazed at my own words. Save this. Gotta jot it in my notes with the timestamp—revisit later. Savor the chat reactions. Maru, Moteok, Raming, my stream—lick 'em all clean. Hehe.
"No way to survive? Save me, please. I wanna live! If I escape... I'll become a singer. Sing hope's song on a big stage."
Singer—cool! Epic dream. How thrilling would that be? Ten thousand screaming fans...
"Ooh, awesome. Make it happen. I'm going bakery VTuber."
"Bakery VTuber? What's that?"
"~ Boss picked it for me. Said I'd rock as a VTuber."
"What about me? Boss, me?"
Gotta consult again? Fine by me. Hmm... What suits Moteok?
"You're no good as a VTuber. Nope. Be a singer instead."
I say firmly. Not that it suits her... We got enough VTubers. Too crowded. That's my beef. No grand reason. But Moteok perks up thrilled.
"For realz?!?!"
"Yep. Singer. Stage name: Mother of Music, MozarTteok."
If memory serves... Full name Moteok, RP as Mother of Rhombus? Goddess? One of those. Kept the concept, tweaked the naming.
"Nooo!!!! You just made that up? What kinda sense?"
"Huh?"
"MozarTteok slaps."
"Does it?"
Mozart's basic knowledge, right? Twinkle twinkle little star~ You don't know? I do.
"Everyone out. Told ya—death means link out. We must escape."
"Already?"
"'Already'?"
We've arrived at the escape zone before we know it.
"One pic before we go? Just one."
We duck into a nearby tavern on Raming's say-so. Family photo style: me center chair, everyone around. ...That was our last survival shot.
Escape fails. We punch through to the zone fine, but three minutes post-button... panic city. Maru and Moteok get zombie-swarmed and die. Raming and I fight hard but get bit in the end—no escape.
My first collab ends like that. Thought it was real stream-end. Nope. We regroup at the end, chat, log off. Swore to meet again. Moteok secretly hopes no Korean promises as we wrap.
＊＊＊
Two weeks fly by since the collab. Next day, I start coordinating our meetup. Actually, Maru and Moteok handled it... I just watched.
Was supposed to be last week, but Moteok and Raming's agency ads clashed—canceled. Rescheduled: today.
But sadly, no Raming—my friend. Bad cold, off-stream two days, resting today too.
So lineup: me, Moteok... and Maru. Three of us.
These two weeks, massive effort: makeup practice. Seeing Maru and Editor-nim made up... shocked me. Felt left behind, so YouTube tutorials nonstop.
First tries? Full Japanese geisha caked white. Figured: skip the whitening stuff. Eyes? Too focus-heavy. Removal? Not just wipe—cotton with lip & eye remover. Didn't know at first, eyes stayed smudged—why? why?!—YouTube and viewers saved me. Bought viewer-picked stuff.
Still wonder... how do viewers know this?
Lipstick next—real ambush. Thought just swipe on. Nope: lips ballooned. Panic. Tried tint? Decent. Settled on that.
But makeup's a pain. Takes forever. Hack: mask. Heard masks mean no makeup... But masks are for sickos. Annoying—I'll yank it off. I know me. And they'll ask if I'm sick. I'm not. So... mask or no?
"What to do? Hmm..."
Obviously, no makeup. Could if I tried—practiced. But not show-ready. Procrastinated... catastrophe.
Would've been happy clueless. Maru and Editor-nim made up—bugs me. Ignorance is bliss.
"Hmm..."
Time ticks. Gotta go now for train to Seoul. Decisions: makeup later. But wear Maru's gift clothes. Progress! Seon-ah best. Fist pump, out the door.
Oof. Back in.
"Sorry Maru-nim. Can't do this."
Her clothes? Freeze to death. No choice—strip, thermals, black pants, tee. Thin jacket, puffy coat. Warm now.
"Still chilly... Better than before though."
Chilly but improved—head out pumped.
＊＊＊
Arrive at meet spot. Cafe from last time with Maru—post-shopping. I agonized then: Should I pay? Say it? She covered. Anyway.
Inside: packed.
*Riiiing.*
Sudden phone. Check: Moteok. Accept to answer... hangs silent. Then a woman approaches, stops right in front.
Wh-what? Move aside.
Her face... stunning beauty. Not swallow-phone-number stunning. My face rankings: 1st Editor-nim, 2nd Maru, 3rd her. Last of three means ugly? Nah. Pretty for sure. But beauty's relative. Unavoidable.
Ranking shaky though—can't 100% trust. Tried makeup myself. Women's makeup is a scam. 180-degree flips easy. Boosts prettiness 10x. Can't believe till bare-faced... She's pretty made-up.
"Seon-ah-nim. It's me. Me. Voice not ring a bell?"
"Oh! Got it!"
Moteok. Rose scent wafts.
"This way, this way. Just got here too. Seat over there."
"But how'd you know it was me?"
"Just... gut? Felt like Seon-ah-nim?"
"Whoa!"
Insane. Women's intuition this scary? Mom always said grilling Dad. Seeing it... wild!
Me and Moteok sit.
"Phew, hot. Sweaty."
Moteok sheds puffy. First in my sights: Moteok's... chest.
"Whoa!"
Gasp slips out. Violent size. Clothed, yet bulging clear. Baggy hides size... but her tight white tee? No mistaking. Way, way bigger than mine. Overwhelming. Real talk: bathhouse, melons bobbing. For real.
She lifts arms back to ponytail... eyes lock on chest.
"Whoa!"
"..."
Moteok freezes mid-ponytail, blank-stare at me.
Did I mess up? Again? That dumb face—like Mom, Dad, bro when I screw up.