Otaku Basement Treasures and Pajama Persuasion
The shock I felt in front of the display case decorated with figures from the copyright basement was bigger than I'd expected. If all these displayed figures were sold, it'd fetch a fortune in the billions. Most of them were limited editions, and unless the original work had bombed for some reason, their secondhand value often exceeded the original price—so it made sense.
Even excluding the limited editions, they were mostly large, intricately sculpted figures. Anyone into subculture genres would feel like they'd died and gone to heaven.
"Haru, didn't I mention? My mom and dad are pretty serious about this stuff. Mom even did cosplay as that magical girl thing back in the day and that's how she met Dad..."
Jisu said it casually with a laugh, but honestly... even I, who had zero greed for figures, found myself wanting one.
Right in the center of the figure display case— not a limited edition, but a photo. Looking closely, it showed a woman with brown hair similar to Jisu's, but her outfit wasn't everyday wear. It was a magical girl costume straight out of an old anime.
Whoa, that figure... The photo quality wasn't bad for an old camera. Staring closer, I recognized it from Lee Haru's childhood memories—an anime.
Wow, this is... true pure love?
Unlike those guys online insisting 'Rudeness, but it's pure love' while ending up married to someone else, this was the real deal. They shared hobbies in subculture, met by chance at an event, and got married. Pretty unique.
Honestly, I toyed with telling Jisu I made Chonghong, but no—I wasn't a creator. I was just sharing songs from a man's memories with others... basically a plagiarist.
"That's an Iru figure."
The displayed figures weren't all they had. Around the cases, unopened figure boxes were piled into mountains. The displays held the high-end stuff, while these more affordable ones came in threes or fours of the same kind.
"Oh, you like this stuff? He buys three of each—for collecting, displaying, and storage. Want the extra one?"
"Uh... yeah? But it's your parents'..."
"It's fine. Dad said anything with four or more is okay for me to use."
I tried to refuse out of politeness, but Jisu handed me the vampire version Iru figure. Sure, it was "affordable" compared to the display pieces, but it wasn't some cheap 10-20k won knockoff—it was over 50k won. I could've bought it with allowance, but receiving it as a gift felt profoundly touching.
We finished our bizarre treasure hunt in the basement and headed back to the first floor. By then, the night air had turned chilly. Spring or not, nights were cold. Jisu saw me off to her front gate, looking reluctant.
"Haru, today was so much fun. See ya! Next time, sleep over. Mom and Dad would love it. Okay?"
"Sure. I'll crash here sometime."
She kept waving until I was out of sight—kinda overwhelming. Honestly... not as Lee Haru, but from the man's memories, it was a pricey figure, so it weighed on me even more.
Leaving Jisu's, I walked home and pulled out my phone to open NewTube Studio. Separate from the fun time with Jisu, I wanted to prep the next song.
"I know Jisu has no hang-ups about this culture, but enjoying it is different... What song would even someone like her listen to without issue?"
I muttered to myself, but nothing came to mind. From memories, lyrics-wise shady ones like God's Requiem, or something Cinderella-ish like Magic Spell popped up—but both were VTuber originals, high-difficulty tracks needing vocal programs.
Countless melody fragments swirled in my head, but suddenly, I realized the first step to sorting this. No matter how great a song, if I couldn't protect it, it was useless.
Once home, I locked my door—just in case Mom or Dad popped in—and logged into the so-called Korean Music Copyright Association site. Essential for continuing this.
Registering here meant I could collect some royalties, however small, and if anyone infringed my songs, they'd fight for me—a solid ally. I wasn't expecting big payouts, but protecting my songs was enough.
Even in the man's memories, there were plenty of cases where songs got stolen and copyright-bombed. As an enemy, they were exhausting; as an ally, unbeatable.
Thinking of copyright bombs suddenly gave me chills. I could already hear the backlash brewing on the Vocaloid Gallery.
Beyond that, there were scumbags pre-registering unregistered songs first. That's why this was crucial. Deadly foe or ultimate guardian—pick your side.
I moved the mouse to start the copyright registration process. After real-name verification, my brain froze. Membership fee? Not a big deal, I could pay. But the real issue: Lee Haru's status was minor.
"Meeeooow..."
A weird sound slipped out as I agonized. What now? Parents had no clue what I was doing. Did I have the guts to tell them? Waiting till adulthood? No guarantee they wouldn't take it away.
It's 9 PM now.
Too early for them to sleep. Objectively, who to convince? Normally, you'd think Mom for permission, but not here.
Mom's kinda conservative...
Especially since she'd grumbled more than once about people making money online. Dad it is. High up at a game company, he'd be more progressive.
Gotta... do it, right?
Just barging in with "Do it" would fail. So, how? I hated it, but... aegyo time.
Oh heavens!
I wanted to curse the sky, but honestly, I was grateful to be young—no regrets there. Life is potatoes... no, life is thanks, right? Unless I get jumped by a delinquent kid, I'd keep believing that. Shaking off a sudden urge for boiled potatoes with soy sauce, I changed into pajamas.
Phew... animal PJs after a year?
Even as Lee Haru, they felt off, so despite parents buying them, I'd crank the boiler instead. Tossing my comfy tee and dolphin pants aside, I slipped into the cat pajamas—with tail and ears.
Sure, you might think the man's lingering identity balks at dolphin pants, but they're too comfy—identity be damned. Verdict on animal PJs: simple.
...Humiliating.
But the world demands a price. 'That's right, Lee Haru!' some voice seemed to say, but everything's equivalent exchange. If one bout of aegyo protects these recreated songs in this world, I'd burn this body to ash.
Truth be told, post-memories, I hadn't seen Dad much. Game company meant overtime galore, separate room—basically absent except sleeping all weekend.
"Pardon? Director-nim, practicing dances for game promo? Together? Even so... two guys in their 40s dancing—users would like... like it?"
The voice beyond the door sounded off.
Game directors need dance skills as basics these days, huh...
As I grabbed the door to enter, his phone rang, so I waited outside till it ended. Then, I made my presence known.
"Ahem... coming in."
-Creak.
Tense. He was the same Dad from Lee Haru's life, but I was nervous. Wait, not nervous... pajama shame.
Even that weird kid's public execution from before felt less mortifying—name forgotten again. Deep breath, then I unleashed it: eyes wide and sparkly, utterly harmless baby animal gaze recreated perfectly.
"Daaaad... I have a teeeny request..."