I'm Pretty, Aren't I?

"I'm pretty, aren't I?"

There's a saying that the beginning is half the battle. It means that taking the first step in any endeavor is difficult and arduous, and some say that as long as you get past that starting point, no matter how hard or grueling the task, it won't be as difficult as before.

That's right — yesterday, I had just embarked on a new challenge. I had chosen a different path from before: turning on the cam and broadcasting with my face exposed.

Stepping onto new ground inevitably brings fear and trembling. "New" carries the same meaning as "unfamiliar," after all.

And yet, I had finished the cam broadcast yesterday without incident. It hadn't even lasted a full hour, but regardless of the time, the fact that I had stood before a large audience, fully exposed, and spoken every word clearly was something worth noting. The very purpose of turning on the cam alongside the broadcast had been fully achieved. For a first broadcast, it was more than sufficient.

And now, back in the present, I sat in front of the computer, my legs trembling as I wrestled with a decision.

Should I turn on the cam? Or not?

Yesterday's broadcast had been pretty good. A little clumsy and flustered, sure, but I had managed to hold my own against the cheeky viewers in my own way.

But that was yesterday. Today, a new sun rises. Today, I had to turn on the broadcast again.

If yesterday was the first cam broadcast, then turning on the cam today would make it the second.

So why, then, did I feel even more reluctant to start the broadcast than yesterday? Wasn't the saying that the first time is the hardest, and everything after gets easier? That was a complete lie.

Then I realized something.

Yesterday, I had turned on the cam without any pressure, just shrugging and going for it. Today, though, I had experienced firsthand just how burdensome this was. That's why I was hesitating before even starting.

They say ignorance is courage. When you don't know anything, you have nothing to fear. I had thought, "What's the big deal?" and figured most streamers broadcast with their cams on anyway, so I'd turn mine on someday too — that was my quiet resolve.

But after one day of experience, I found it wasn't as easy as I'd thought. Having so many people watching you, even the smallest action like breathing becoming real-time fodder for chatter. It's hard to explain in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠detail, but my feelings were complicated.

As I sat there, I started wondering if I wasn't as talented at streaming as I'd thought, and all sorts of random thoughts flooded in.

When I didn't have a cam, I had been streaming fine — not perfectly, but fine.

Thinking about it that way, it was simply a matter of turning the cam off and broadcasting. But if I did that, the viewers' complaints would be deafening — that was obvious without even looking.

Even setting that aside, it felt like I'd be losing a little. If I boldly turned on the cam and then immediately turned it off the next day, wouldn't that look like running away?

I didn't want to take a break, and I didn't want to turn off the cam either. There was no reason to stake my pride on this, but I was realizing I was more competitive than I'd thought.

With that, I glanced at the computer screen, then at the sleek black lens of the cam, took a breath, and turned on the broadcast.

It didn't matter how it went — I'd just have to push through. I couldn't keep running forever.

And anyway, I had one idea in mind…

It was early morning, and the broadcast had turned on without warning.

People who had been waiting in advance even before the broadcast started erupted in cheers. At the same time, viewers began flooding in like a wave. Kayak's bang-on timing had set off notifications across communities everywhere, like bells ringing.

Unlike yesterday, Kayak appeared on screen from the very start of the broadcast.

There she was, sitting quietly in front of the computer, facing forward, with the room's scenery revealed through the cam just as it had been yesterday.

"Good morning, everyone. A lot of you are here on a Thursday morning. Two thousand people… Don't you all have jobs?"

"I'm sorry. Communication… communication is about sharing each other's daily lives, right? I was trying to communicate with you all and just…"

Then a donation came in. It was just five minutes after the broadcast had started.

The TTS of an old man's voice echoed through the broadcast. As if in agreement, the chat window was instantly filled with messages like "yep," "she is pretty," and the like.

Kayak just stared blankly at the spot on the screen where the donation appeared, as if lost in thought.

Even though ten thousand won — a considerable sum in streaming terms — had come in, she wasn't reacting? The viewers were growing puzzled.

Kayak took a deep breath, as if sighing, then squeezed her eyes shut and opened them once more before raising her voice.

"You're right. I am pretty."

"I, I'm pretty, that's why!"

That was the moment the viewers realized the streamer was acting strange today.