The First Broadcast
The chaotic afternoon passed in a whirlwind of glamour—my walk home from school, the legal guardian stuff, and all that jazz.
Finally... tomorrow, huh?
I'd wrapped up the dramatic showdown with Dad. He promised to take Mom out for at least dinner tomorrow, giving me plenty of time to record. Just order delivery or eat out for meals, he'd said.
Before tomorrow's stream, I fired up the dashboard for the internet broadcasting platform I'd just signed up for. Kept my streamer name as HALU, same as always. No cam anyway, and I had zero interest in reeling in viewers with my looks—ugh, the thought made me cringe—so I skipped the profile pic entirely.
Honestly, what I cared about was recreating the songs from that guy's memories, not grinding camgirl cash. Our family was loaded enough that Lee Haru didn't need to stoop to that.
"Will... anyone even show up?"
A tiny flicker of anxiety crept into my cocky confidence. From the guy's memories and all the usual streamer sob stories, breaking out took forever.
I wasn't sure I could mumble to empty air like, "The reason I put this lyric here is..." And no way did I want to grind away in lonely solitude.
I started sorting sources for tomorrow's stream. Basic setup for the MR tracks I'd voice over with the mic, and all that.
Truth be told... my method was freakishly abnormal compared to other producers. Most folks take ages on MRs and vocals, but mine was basically just recreating from memory—not quite point-and-click, but tuning the sounds in my head to the program's instruments.
That's why I worked at ludicrous speed. With the answer key in my brain, it was just following the solutions.
While prepping tomorrow's stream, I itched to check the gallery... but held back. Those cursed images from yesterday still haunted me. Sunset time now, so slim chance, but what if?
Instead of the Vocaloid Gallery, I opened the NewTube Studio comments.
"Please don't..."
The idea that someone crushing on me could hurt them... I smirked at the NewTube comments, dusting off the mic I'd ordered and used once. Not Dad's company studio, but with parents gone tomorrow, it'd be perfect.
Weekend afternoons? No one gripes about noise, even with floor complaints. Everything was flawless.
*
Saturday morning 10 AM finally hit. Mom and Dad headed out hand-in-hand. Movie theater date, probably?
"Me and your dad are going on a rare date, so fend for yourself~"
"Yep."
Info straight from Dad. No clue how he lured Mom out, but he flashed me a thumbs-up on the way.
Thumbs up, Suhyeon... wait, no, that's not it.
Order lunch around noon for perfect timing. If viewers showed, chat over food. Total genius IQ 200 stream— what if 1000 watchers on day one? Delusions. Set to screen-share only.
Platform settings were a pain for monetization. Minors get screwed in Korea. NewTube handles it fine, and I wasn't desperate for cash anyway, so skipped it.
This stream was just to escape solo drudgery. Deep breath, mouse on "Start Broadcast," click.
[Vocal Recording in Progress] [ON AIR]
Red text blazed top-screen. As expected, viewer count bottom-right: 0.
"Ahem... ahh."
Voice to empty void felt lame. How do I even sing now? But I'd belted fine at breakup declaration, so chalk it to stream nerves.
It's fine. Everyone starts like this.
Pulled up familiar MR program, started recording. Chat dead silent, zero viewers. Difference from past? Stream on or off. Same: zero interest.
Solitude flew by; recording done in 90 minutes. Trimmed flubs, spliced perfect takes, MR integration left—fired up delivery app.
"Sushi?"
Normally an inner thought, but stream on, so aloud for chat vibes.
Viewers still zero, but persistence. Seoul prices steep, but quality worth it—ordered.
"Delivery!"
"Coming."
Delivery guy breezed past apartment gate somehow, knocked.
[Lunch Break & Rest.]
Quick title swap, snapped sushi pic, uploaded to cloud and monitor.
-Nom nom.
Guy's memories? Taste buds meh. "Tasty if tasty." Saved cash, but Lee Haru? Gourmet palate—loved spicy mara tang and tteokbokki, yet dissected sushi nuances. Pic up just in case.
It worked.
First chat ever—heart stopped. First viewer!
"Uh... ah! Hi! Hello!"
But dipped after "looks delicious." Damn... expectations kill.
Next hour, peaked at 2 viewers. Two whole people watching? Grateful AF. Dove into editing.
Objectively, zero streamer charisma. No broadcast history as guy or Haru—multitasking fail.
Focused? Silent. Glanced at chats occasionally.
"Uh... yes? Girl."
Answered Anonymous 2's sporadic chats mid-work. Viewer count +1. First Q gender? Creep? Nah, comp fan. Chatted with Anon 2, new "Bitdum" jumped in.
Pondered Bitdum's Q. Age fine? First real ID viewer—hype rising. Not original here, but this world? Sure.
"Ah... yes, original! 17."
Anon 1 ghosted, but Anon 2 and Bitdum chat turned editing backseat. Shared hobby joy, but Bitdum's reply? Wild.
"...?"
Permanent ban Bitdum, announced stream end, killed it. First broadcast? Epic flop.