What's Your Type in Men?
The question of who I am carries more than one meaning.
It can ask what identity a person called me actually possesses, what meaning that person is supposed to live by, or even why that person exists at all.
The problem of what identity I hold is, at its core, a thought about a human being's uniqueness — the features that set me apart from everyone else. Not the kind of eccentricity an artist might cultivate for spectacle, but the attributes I can reasonably call my own. Those, I think, are what we mean by identity.
Truthfully, I still don't know what it feels like to be sure of one. Am I Harin? Or someone wearing Harin's skin? If I had to pin it down, I'm a hybrid of Harin and whatever I used to be.
Here, though, no one saw me as that I. I had no choice but to be Lee Harin. Her body, without her memories. A half-finished person.
Which is why, under the barrage of questions pouring in, I couldn't give anyone a complete answer.
"Probably not."
Watching the donation pop on Jump's stream, I had no choice but to give a vague answer. I hadn't seen a student ID anywhere, so she likely wasn't in college. Still, if she were, the semester would be starting soon — something I'd have to look into.
Watching the chat roll by, I could more or less read the temperature of the stream. They weren't even bothering to hide how freely they tore into the streamer.
"Hey, what's wrong with my stream? I'm pretty popular, you know."
Even the kind of comments that wouldn't have been strange to get angry over, Jump answered like he'd heard them a thousand times. This was probably just the usual atmosphere of his broadcast.
The question came out of nowhere, and I couldn't help but hesitate.
I might have looked like a woman, but my mind was still a man's. If someone suddenly asked me my type in men... what was I even supposed to say?
"You don't have to answer a question like that."
Jump must have figured it was an uncomfortable one. Unexpected, sure — but not something I couldn't answer. Saying I had a type didn't mean I was obligated to date anyone.
"I've never really thought about a type, but... if I had to pick, maybe a guy who can go five times a day?"
"...Excuse me?"
"It's a joke."
"W-what kind of joke is that..."
The reaction was not what I'd expected. Had I said something that weird? I'd thought it was a fairly original answer, considering we were on stream.
Jump stammered like he'd been caught off guard, and the chat went up like someone had dumped gasoline on a fire. Next time, I was going to have to pick my answers a little more carefully.
"No comment on that. I don't think I'll be sharing the custom, though."
The idea of running into someone on the other team with my exact face already felt wrong. And considering the harassment that had shown up in the community comments, putting my face out there didn't seem like a great idea.
Before long the chat had split into two camps and was tearing into itself. Since I hadn't given them anything solid, they were trying to arrive at a conclusion they could live with on their own. I couldn't understand why anyone cared that much about a stranger's face.
I'd figured the whole thing would die down if I just waited. Instead, one donation turned the spark about my face into an interrogation of Jump.
"That's... no comment from me either. More to the point, if Unknown doesn't want to answer, what am I supposed to say when you ask me instead?"
I thought I heard Jump mutter, under his breath, Ha, I wanna end the stream...
Whether the viewers hadn't caught it, or they just believed he wouldn't actually go offline, I couldn't tell. Either way, nothing in chat called him on it.
"I'm not some maniac for content, and Unknown was kind enough to come on my stream. I can't just say whatever I want about her."
Calming the viewers down looked like genuine labor. Then again, why would people hiding behind anonymity ever think about the aftermath? They'd say anything — even the ugly, line-crossing stuff — just to scratch the itch of curiosity right now. A glance at chat was enough: curses on one end, people offering money for a tiny hint on the other.
I was partly to blame, so I opened my mouth to throw him a little help.
"A lot of people seem curious about my face... If there's a customization feature, I'd imagine most people use it the same way they'd put on makeup before going outside."
I hadn't lied. There were people who didn't wear makeup when they went out. There were probably plenty who left the customizer completely alone, too. And I hadn't said a single word about having touched mine. I'd only offered a guess — that most people probably would.
Even so, chat settled down somewhat. I hadn't given them a real answer, but they'd decided it was one and talked themselves into accepting it.
Streaming, huh.
I hadn't given it any real thought. The idea of making money while playing games did interest me, but there was a reason people said taking other people's money was the hardest work there was. For someone whose only claim to fame was a mercenary's memories, broadcasting looked like a steep climb.
That didn't mean I had no interest at all. With no income to speak of, streaming was, in its own way, a counterpoint worth considering. I could earn money playing games, and I wouldn't even have to leave the house. Going outside piled on more fatigue than I'd expected, and I still hadn't fully adapted to Lee Harin's body. Taking a part-time job right now wasn't a realistic option.
But everything has an order to it. The world had a habit of punishing people who jumped in just because something looked interesting. Before I started anything, I needed to be careful.
"I'm still thinking about streaming... I might. I might not."
I hadn't given them anything definite, but the mere possibility seemed to be enough for the viewers.
Watching the chat fly by that fast, I could practically hear Jump's sigh from here. Herding more than three thousand viewers was clearly no easy job.
"Uh... Unknown, should we move on to actually playing the game?"
Jump was trying to yank the chat off the streaming talk. I'd been under a question barrage for about an hour myself and was starting to wear down, so I had no reason to refuse.
"Sure."
"I'll send the invite as soon as you log in."
I took off the headset I'd been wearing and walked over to the Connector beside me.
Vmmm—
The hum of the Connector spinning up filled the entire studio apartment.