I'm Here Again!

Reina's DM popped up on the screen. "Don't edit that stream."

I stared at the sentence for a long time.

A client telling me to reject another client's job? That's crossing the line. No editor could accept a request like that.

But Reina knew that. The fact that she sent it anyway meant she wasn't expecting a reply.

Her reply came fast. Like she'd anticipated it.

I rested my hands on the keyboard and typed nothing.

This question again.

Sohwa had asked it. Now Reina too. They both knew it wasn't a question for an editor, but they asked anyway.

Reina went silent for a while. Then one line appeared.

I closed the DM window. My head was a mess.

This wasn't about contracts. These people were demanding something from me through editing. I still didn't know exactly what.

Better not to know.

The next afternoon. A DM notification. Unknown nickname.

'Harukong_OfficialAccount'

Two exclamation points in the first line. The "benefactor" title gave me pause for a beat, then the nickname jogged my memory.

Harukong. A super low-tier VTuber I'd edited for once, half a year ago. Followers under 500 back then. Paid a third of my rate.

"Yeah."

"Changed my life" felt a bit over the top. But from Harukong's perspective, maybe. My edit had jumped her followers from 500 to 5,000.

"I just edited once. The rest is you."

The exclamation points kept multiplying. I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette.

I nearly sighed. This wasn't about work. It was just a check-in.

Smoke caught in my throat.

"...Pardon?"

No such promise. It was Harukong's solo vow. Half a year ago, she might've said something like "I'll treat you when I'm big." Casual farewell talk. Like "see you later."

What the hell.

I stubbed out the cigarette. Weird one. But different from Sohwa or Reina. Pure, sunny, no ulterior motives. That made it more disorienting.

Seemed endless, so I closed the DM.

Harukong's raw arrived an hour later. Low-budget indie game playthrough. 1 hour 20 minutes.

I hit play. Avatar in cream hoodie zip-up, caramel brown hair in twin-tails, bean-shaped hairpins on top. Big round eyes with constant sparkling circular highlights.

"Hi, it's Harukong!"

Bright voice. Nothing like Sohwa's low calm or Reina's pressing tone. Like the girl next door chatting right beside you.

"Today I'm solo-clearing this game. Let's do it together!"

"Let's do it together." That's Harukong's core content. No special gimmicks, no dramatic edit points. Just the feeling of playing side-by-side.

I watched about 30 minutes. Harukong muttered to herself a lot while gaming.

"Huh, what's this."

"Ugh, this is tough."

"Ah..."

"Just try it?"

Previous editor had subtitled every mutter, making it cluttered. These were edited out—no subs.

I pulled up the timeline and started.

First rule: Leave mutters unsubbed. Make viewers wonder what'd she say? and post in comments. Comments fill themselves.

Harukong's content thrives on chat as viewer conversation. Don't spoon-feed subs. A touch unfriendly suits her.

Second rule: Minimal cuts. Almost none. Instead, rhythmically arrange her laughs, flusters, quiet focuses. Give that I'm right there vibe.

Third rule: Layer BGM. But inaudibly. Low-frequency track at -0.2dB or lower, like ambient noise. Unnoticeable, but air feels denser without it. Viewers stick around, no reason why.

Six hours. Light workload for the rate. Others might finish in two. But Harukong needs this. Heavy touch without seeming touched.

Sent the final cut.

Reply in 30 minutes.

"...Okay."

"Others say that too."

"Yes. Freelancer."

"Can't say. Client privacy."

Harukong's replies slowed. Exclamations gone.

I pulled out another cigarette.

"No order. All independent contracts."

"...Pardon?"

I froze over the keyboard.

True. Half a year ago, first time taking a 500-follower Hakko job. Before that, minimum 2k. Harukong at a third rate—I had every reason to decline, but accepted. Something vulnerable in her footage. Still can't pin it down.

I stared at the DM.

"No, not that."

"..."

I lit the cigarette, then put it out. She's assuming I'll drop her. No resentment, no grudge. Just preemptive forgiveness.

That felt worse.

First time someone's said "stopping the tears" so matter-of-factly.

Exclamations back. I closed the DM and cracked an energy drink.

I paused at the last comment. Fingers over keyboard.

'No clue where Han-cut even lives.'

Joke. But knowing it's a joke didn't stop my heart skipping a beat.

I posted anonymously.

5 seconds.

Heart raced second time.

Quick retort. Too quick raises flags.

3-second pause, another line.

Good. Suspicion buried.

But in between, a new one.

I stared at it. Not a joke.

Closed the gallery, checked DMs. Sohwa, Reina, Harukong. All three lit up.

Sohwa: Doing a strategy sim stream.

Reina: Don't take that stream.

Harukong: Don't forget me.

Different demands. One common thread: None for an editor.

I shut off the monitor. 2 AM. One rule unbroken in 3 years: Files in, delivery out. Done.

First crack now. Worse: I noticed it shaking.

Notice means too late.

Grabbed smokes, headed to balcony. Night air thick. Neighborhood quiet. Workshop deep in apartment complex—barely hears road noise at night. Occasional cat yowl. Convenience store chatter sometimes.

Smoking on balcony, distant lit convenience store sign caught my eye.

'○○ Convenience △△ Branch'. My usual for late-night energy drinks.

Unclear why so vivid tonight. Stubbed smoke, went in.

DM ping. Sohwa.

Out of nowhere.

Fingers stopped.

Heart thudded hard.

I closed the DM. Sat frozen at the monitor.

Sohwa's 'nearby convenience store'.'Bright sign at night'.'Walking route'.

Exact view from my balcony moments ago.

The store right by my workshop.

Sohwa's in my neighborhood now.