ASMR

Kayak's million-view milestone sent more than a few ripples through the Twish scene.

Hitting a million views in a single day—twenty-four hours flat—was never an easy feat. Granted, it hadn't been on Kayak's own Vtube channel but on Jeonghwan's, which already boasted five hundred thousand subscribers. Even so, it remained an extraordinary achievement.

Kayak herself didn't think much of it. Everyone around her, though, was losing their minds—and that reaction said more about the viewers' greasy, childish instincts than anything else.

It was the usual ranking game: who was the bigger streamer. The yardsticks were live viewership and Vtube subscriber counts, and so the chatter started bubbling up with predictable regularity. Shouldn't Kayak be slotted into Twish's Four Heavenly Kings—the Four Emperors? Drop one of the current members, or just expand the roster to five.

That talk alone meant her weight class had grown.

She'd streamed before, sure, but a streamer who had only just been broadcasting in earnest for under a year was now eyeing a "king" seat without getting steamrolled by the corporate giants. An absurd situation. Every step of Kayak's path so far had cut straight through the Twish scene, and even the antis who quietly disliked her had no choice but to shut their mouths. Calling her ugly, calling her bad at running a Vtube channel—once or twice was one thing. There was simply nothing left to attack.

How do you trash someone who has proven everything and become airtight? Even Streamer Gallery, where roasting and sniping at streamers was a daily sport, threw up both hands when it came to Kayak.

And so, even while the infamous Streamer Gallery was crowning Kayak as Twish's new king—

Kayak's stream went live.

It happened four hours after the boxing video on Vtube hit a million views.

They say you go to sleep and wake up to a different world. That was exactly what this felt like.

Of course, I was someone who had literally gone to sleep and woken up in a different world—but still.

The content had been a success. An enormous one.

I'd only found out after the editors messaged me and I heard Jeonghwan—the actual owner of the channel—practically vibrating with excitement on the phone. I'd heard the video had gone up, sure, but I'd only checked it once at the start and hadn't been tracking the numbers after that.

As for how I felt… I was happy. What feels better than doing something and watching the results land clean? More than anything, I was proud that a decision I'd made myself had produced this. Out of all the ads that had come in, I'd just picked the one that looked interesting—but it was still a path I'd chosen.

I'd felt it last time too: maybe I quietly had a good eye for this stuff. Maybe I was gifted at picking people and picking projects. I rolled around on the bed entertaining that completely unserious thought.

Anyway—good results meant a good mood. With nothing else to do, I decided to go live. Strictly speaking, this was also thanks to my fans and viewers helping out in all kinds of ways, so I figured I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠throw in a thank-you while I was at it.

I went live under a title far grander than usual.

Like a general returning from victory in a triumphant parade, I flipped on the cam and even struck a little pose. The voice donations that started sliding in right on cue were a free bonus.

"Ahh, hello everyone. The streamer with a million views… Kayak here."

I deliberately struck an ahem-ahem pose and tilted my head this way and that with a haughty air. No real reason. I just felt like it today.

Then, out of nowhere—what am I even doing—embarrassment crashed over me, and I sat down properly and started talking at a normal pace. I was supposed to just sit and say what I'd planned to say. What was all the theatrics for.

"S-so, first of all, thank you. It's all thanks to you guys. Without you, it never would've hit Trending, and it never would've hit a million this fast. Jeonghwan was over the moon because of you, too…."

"A Kayak Challenge?"

From what the chat told me, it went like this.

Some famous TikToker had posted a video about wanting to get good at boxing, hitting a sandbag—and a clip of me boxing was in it. People who saw that started uploading their own sandbag videos the same way, and it spread and spread until it turned into a kind of challenge.

Good. A virtuous cycle, if you wanted to call it that. Stuff like this had almost certainly helped the Vtube video hit a million and climb Trending.

"An event? Hmm, it's a good thing and all, but I never made any promises in the first place…."

An event. It had felt pretty random to me, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but the viewers clearly disagreed—they flooded the chat in seconds and started leaning on me hard.

But I hadn't prepared anything for today. I'd originally planned to take the day off and only flipped the stream on for a quick thank-you.

Viewers demanding an event on one side. Me with zero intention of doing one on the other. How was I supposed to handle this.

Pro streamers were elite at managing their audiences. A little stick, a little carrot—meeting the viewers' needs while still getting what they wanted. I'd watched that balancing act more than a few times and been impressed.

I had a decent amount of streaming experience under my belt now myself. I couldn't orchestrate it as beautifully as they did, but I could at least fake it.

"I was going to take the day off, but I missed you guys and came on to say thank you… are you not happy to see me?"

I locked my eyes on the cam, dropped the corners of my eyes, and put on a faintly sulky expression. The chat window immediately started convulsing.

Public opinion cooled off at high speed. The people still spamming "don't fall for it" went quiet after about ten solid seconds of staring at the cam.

Looking at it like this, Camilla's face really was something else. It even worked for calming down a chat.

"Today's stream… maybe just some chill Abyss and then I'm out? Queue up, talk a bit. Abyss again? This person only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever plays Abyss?… What's wrong with Abyss. Easy-mode content, you say? Oh, so you just now figured out I'm an easy-mode streamer?"

For playing with zero prep, there was no game like Abyss. That was probably why people called it a god-tier game.

Even the viewers complaining right now would lock in the second I actually booted it up. They always had.

But my plan to play Abyss and chat with the viewers never got off the ground.

"Ah."

Just like the chat said—Abyss was currently under emergency maintenance for server issues.

Two hours until it came back up. I'd originally planned to play for about two hours and then bounce.

So what was I supposed to do until then. Nothing in particular came to mind. Maybe just end the stream and come back tomorrow.

I was still mulling it over when a viewer dropped a donation large enough to make my eyes go wide and requested something completely different.

"ASMR?"