First Stream Experience

Ding—!

The notification chime on my phone yanked me out of sleep.

I hauled myself up off the mattress and checked the screen.

A message from the local secondhand marketplace deal I'd closed yesterday.

Right. So it hadn't been a dream.

…Though I really wished it had been.

Current time: 2 p.m.

Time left… one hour?

"What the hell—it's already two in the afternoon?!"

I'd crashed around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one in the morning, which meant I'd just slept a solid thirteen hours.

"Shit, I'm screwed."

I shot up off the mattress and made a beeline for the bathroom.

I cranked the shower on, soaked myself down, and started scrubbing every inch of my body raw with body wash.

And then a thought hit me mid-scrub.

"…I'm not getting a single dirty thought?"

Strictly speaking, I was looking at a woman's naked body—and yet, weirdly, nothing lewd crossed my mind at all.

It just felt like my own body. The one I'd always had.

Had I already gotten used to being a woman…?

"…N-no. I'm a guy. It's just because it's my body, that's all."

I chanted it to myself like a desperate mantra, finished washing, and got dressed.

One more snag, though.

The only clothes I owned made my chest stick out way too much.

"…Fuck. Next time I gotta buy underwear too."

The list of things I needed to spend money on just kept growing.

It was 2:30. Mugunghwa Park was about a twenty-minute walk, which left me ten minutes to spare.

No time to overthink it.

"Ah, screw it—I'll just wear two shirts."

I layered two black tops over each other and stepped out the door.

Outside, the weather was bright and clear.

Bright enough to cook a person alive.

Sunlight licked every surface of the world, and the temperature was pushing thirty degrees Celsius.

And there I was, running through it.

"God, it's hot! And why the hell is this hair so long—"

All I could do was seethe at the strands whipping around my face.

In front of Mugunghwa Park, a man stood waiting with a PC tower and assorted gear stuffed into shopping bags.

"Ugh… why isn't this person here yet."

They'd agreed on 3 p.m., but even at 3:15 there was still no sign of the buyer.

"I mean, at this point shouldn't I be charging extra? Making someone wait like th—"

"Sorry I'm late!"

In the distance, a woman came sprinting toward him.

One hand clutched her long hair back as she ran for all she was worth.

She was about 160 centimeters tall, and the bright sunlight glancing off her skin made it practically glitter—no exaggeration.

A slender face. Large, vivid black eyes. Cheeks flushed from the run, lips slightly parted.

With every step she took closer, the man's heart started hammering harder.

Then she was right in front of him, catching her breath.

"Hah—hah—sorry. I ran a little late."

"……Ah—n-no!"

The moment he saw the woman bowing her head and gasping for air in front of him, his voice jumped a full octave.

"A little late is totally fine! Life happens, right? Time is relative anyway, isn't it? Ahahahaha!"

"Hah—thank you for understanding. Um, the stuff…?"

"Ah—h-here. Here it is."

When she asked, he fumbled the shopping bags and the PC tower into her hands.

"Ah… thanks. It works okay, right?"

"Yep yep yep, of course. I tested everything yesterday."

"Got it. Thank you."

She took the bags. The unexpected weight nearly tipped her over, but she caught her balance again.

"Well, take care on your way."

Just as she was about to leave, something snapped tight in the man's head.

Am I ever going to meet anyone prettier than this woman for the rest of my life?

Maybe this is my last shot.

He mustered his courage. Or rather—with a face like hers, he had no choice.

"Um… hey?"

At his voice, the woman turned.

The look on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her face made it painfully clear she was barely holding it together.

"Uh… if it's okay, want me to help carry that?"

"I'm fine. I can manage on my own."

The answer that came back was cold, flat rejection.

Something about the force of it felt oddly macho.

"Th-then… at least let me get you a taxi."

"I'm fine. Take care~"

And just like that, she receded from his field of view—leaving nothing behind in his chest but a bruise and a dull ache.

"Fuck, this thing is filthy heavy."

Back home, I chugged water and thought it over.

Becoming a woman had cut my walking speed and my strength right down.

The park that used to take me twenty minutes on foot had taken over half an hour—and just hauling a single PC tower home, I'd had to stop and rest several times just to make it.

Thanks to that, I was soaked in sweat all over again.

"…How much cash did I torch just to buy this hunk of junk."

A graphics card two or three generations old, and an i7 for the CPU.

Still, for streaming, it wasn't a bad setup.

Ding!

My phone buzzed again.

"Ugh, why does this guy keep talking—it's so goddamn annoying. He was the one who wanted a clean, no-nonsense deal."

I blocked him and put the phone away.

"Now to assemble~ this thing~"

Classic real-man move: humming while you talk to yourself.

I set the computer up in the corner of the desk, plugged in a few cables, and—

Vrrrm—

Multicolored LEDs flared to life as the tower spun up.

"Nice. Everything's ready."

A bright Windows wallpaper filled the monitor, accompanied by the boot chime.

Looking at that clean desktop—like it had just been freshly formatted—settled something in my chest.

"Now~ install the streaming software~ make an account~"

Luckily, the internet was crawling with guides on how to start streaming from scratch.

There was only one thing that stopped me cold.

"What do I use for a nickname?"

That. The nickname.

Ever since I was a kid, this had been my weakest skill: coming up with nicknames.

Even for some random RPG, I'd sit there for two hours just trying to cook up something cute.

"…I've got absolutely nothing."

I opened the platform I was signing up for—Shashark—and scrolled through other people's nicknames.

"Ryuha, XX… OO… Myomyo… Kuro-chan… how the hell do people even think of this stuff?"

Did everyone do Kumon as kids or something?

When nothing came to me, I gave up.

"Keep it simple. It's not even my real name anyway."

I just typed in my real name as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠woman.

Not like anyone was going to recognize it anyway.

"So… is that everything set up?"

Stream settings done, streamer name locked in. All that was left was to hit go live.

I glanced again at the pale blue window stuck in the corner of my vision.

Not much time left on the clock.

"Fine. Let's just get this over with."

I hit the Start Broadcast button.

The stream screen that came up showed absolutely nothing.

Well—of course. The mission condition was only to start a broadcast.

Cam on or off, mic on or off—as long as the stream itself was live, who cared?

"See that, Status Window? That's modern logic for you."

And as if answering me, the blue window in the corner flushed green.

"…Stat points?"

A status window appeared on the spot.

It had felt RPG-ish from the start, and apparently leveling up let me pump points into stats.

"…What the hell is 'Sense of Shame' even supposed to be."

That one stuck out, but I deliberately refused to touch it.

Some gut instinct told me poking that particular stat would poke something dangerous.

Of the whole list, only one was straightforward.

"Gaming Skill? Yeah, I'll take that."

Streaming was just playing games, right?

Every stream I watched worked the same way—play a game, read chat, hop into a viewer match every now and then. That was about it.

Without much thought, I tapped Gaming Skill with my finger.

"Yes."

The status window flashed the moment I answered. Then… nothing happened.

"…What changed?"

I couldn't feel a single real difference. Maybe the mouse in my hand felt a little lighter?

"I'll try a game later if I get the time. For now, how about we shut this stream down?"

Mission complete, level-up done—no reason to keep staring at this screen.

Wearing a winner's smile, I hovered the cursor over End Broadcast.

Click.

Nothing happened.

"…Huh?"

I clicked again. The computer didn't react at all.

"What, is it broken? What's going on?"

Bought used and got a cheap mouse for my trouble, huh. I was about to slam the thing against the desk when—

The blue window reappeared in my vision.

"I can't end the stream until I succeed?"

So what. Am I on the clock here?

Whether the stream was on or off, I just had to leave it running.

Electricity bill goes up a little—big deal?

Thinking that, I stood up from my chair.

"Huh?"

My ass wouldn't leave the seat.

I pushed. I twisted. My thighs might as well have been glued down—they didn't budge an inch.

The status window floated up again.

"You… you—"

A voice thick with rage. Tears welling up. And then I poured every last scrap of resentment into a single howl.

"You fucking piece-of-shit Status Windooooowww—!"