Aftermath

"Ugh…"

I was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. The phrase "sucked the air out of the room" fit perfectly. I'd thought I'd built up some social skills from my personal streams, but apparently, a fake can't stand up to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the real thing. Like a doppelgänger vanishing when faced with the original, that's exactly what happened to me.

The broadcasting industry folks were natural extroverts, and my artificially trained social skills had me completely drained by the time the broadcast wrapped up.

The actual filming didn't take that long. There were breaks orchestrated by the staff, and I'd thought, "Okay, they're not overworking people." That was true, at least up to a point. Really.

Things changed after the break. That is, from the moment the guests, including me, finished our introductions.

After I made the minor mistake of standing alone while everyone else sat down, people suddenly seemed to zero in on me. Well, "people" was an exaggeration—it was just the five permanent panelists—but it felt like they'd locked onto a target.

Not literally charging at me, but that's the impression I got. Like I was being singled out.

The cast members who'd welcomed me warmly before filming suddenly shifted their demeanor. Their eyes changed, taking on the predatory gleam of someone who'd spotted prey. Camilla's heightened senses confirmed it, so I knew it wasn't my imagination. Though "looking like they wanted to devour me" might've been a bit dramatic.

I wasn't stupid—I could guess why the panelists were directing so many comments my way. They probably saw me as a good character for the show. From my perspective, I couldn't quite grasp it, but whatever. Standing alone while everyone else sat down wasn't that funny, was it?

Still, these were professionals in this field, so I wasn't going to argue. It would've been ridiculous to say, "I'm uncomfortable with all the attention on me," when I'd volunteered to be on the show.

The only regret was not achieving my original plan. I'd intended to support the struggling idol Slubi as much as possible and give her plenty of screen time.

But that was out of my hands now. All I could do was play her songs on my stream later and give her a quick promo during my "Nogari" segment.

"Great work today."

"You were hilarious! Let's do another show together!"

"Unnie, here's my number. Let's keep in touch—"

I exchanged pleasantries with the permanent panelists, said goodbye to the other guests, and was about to turn and leave after nodding to PD Park Suhyeok, who'd recruited me.

"Ah, Kayak, you worked hard today. I knew you'd do well from the moment I saw you. Turns out it wasn't that hard, right?"

He'd been giving instructions to the staff, but when he saw me, he jumped right in with that line. His bright expression suggested he was pretty satisfied with today's footage.

But I found his suddenly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠friendly demeanor suspicious and asked, "You told me to do it, right? To deliberately make me suffer."

It was a reasonable suspicion. Back during the meeting, PD Park Suhyeok had openly admitted he was my fan.

But viewers, no matter how nice they seem, always have a dark side—they secretly hope their favorite streamer suffers. In other words, they're basically abuse fans.

I'd forgotten that, given his position as a TV PD and his gentle demeanor when we first met, but he was still a viewer. It wouldn't have been strange if he'd enjoyed watching me get roasted on a larger scale.

But Suhyeok shook his head, looking puzzled. "Huh? I didn't say anything like that? Our show is pretty free-form, so unless there's a serious issue, we let the cast handle things themselves."

"Really…?"

"And 'make you suffer'? We just thought you had talent and would be great for the show."

"That's what it felt like."

"I guarantee you, once this airs, people will be going crazy trying to figure out who you are—"

He seemed more talkative than during our meeting. A sign that today's filming went well, I suppose. I brushed off the director's excited predictions about Kayak going nationwide and said my goodbyes.

"Anyway, I'm heading out, PD-nim. Thanks for recruiting me."

"Since you're here, I have another show—there's an opening next month, would you consider—"

"No, I'm good."

"Come on, let's talk over coffee—"

"Great work today!"

Maybe later, but right now, this was enough. I didn't need more exposure. Sensing he was trying to recruit me again, I quickly made my exit.

After that day's filming, Kayak took a short break. She'd been mentally exhausted.

But her viewers were left in the dark, hit by a bolt from the blue. A "break" meant putting everything aside to rest—no personal streams, nothing. Just a brief notice saying she'd be taking a short break, with no mention of when she'd return.

That's why her fans started panicking. There was no clear reason for the hiatus, and a streamer who'd been doing so well suddenly went on a long break.

Of course, Kayak hadn't specified how long she'd be gone, but by now it was already the third day of her hiatus. For those waiting for her stream, it was already a long enough absence.

Some worried about her mental health, citing her notice that said "I'm tired."

Not entirely wrong—Kayak really had been mentally exhausted. Just not to the degree her viewers were panicking about.

She was currently resting quietly in her room. Watching movies with potato chips and canned beer, grinding builds on an alt account unknown to her viewers, dropping comments on Ririyang's stream. A true break, in every sense.

Even so, KayakTube videos kept uploading. One video a day. A daily upload was an unbroken rule since the channel's creation, the driving force behind its rapid growth.

The strange phenomenon continued: the streamer was on hiatus, but videos kept appearing. Though it was clear they were squeezing out whatever content they could—the most recent video was of a game she'd played three months ago. Fans praised the editor and devoured the videos.

Still, several comments asked if something had happened to Kayak, and they got lots of likes. That was the mainstream viewer opinion.

Yu Sia, who was sensitive to community reactions and monitored everything, couldn't miss this. Knowing the reason for her boss's hiatus, she contacted Kayak to calm people down while also ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looking for a way to build anticipation.

And so, a long post appeared on KayakTube's channel community. In summary: Kayak was healthy, and something huge was coming soon.

"Something huge." That was the spark that reignited the eagerly waiting viewers' excitement.

With this new teaser, viewers started speculating wildly.

Then someone posted a thread with the urgent-looking title "Gallery Owner's TV Appearance."

Shortly after, new posts appeared above it—videos attached, featuring Kayak.

Very TV-like videos. Short teasers with sound effects and subtitles. In them, Kayak was talking, dancing, introducing herself.

An unexpected twist no one had predicted. Despite being only a minute long, the teaser caused quite a stir among Kayak's fans lingering in the gallery.