Eyes Behind the Mask
The morning of the same-room collab. I open my eyes and immediately see the mask hanging on the wall. Black mask, black hood. I set it out last night. I get up, wash my face, brew coffee, smoke a cigarette. I try not to think about anything in the meantime. The fact that I'm heading to the collab site occupies too much space in my head—if I face it head-on, my feet might freeze. Moving my body without confronting it is my only strategy for today.
Ten a.m. DM. Reina.
The address arrives. Seongsu-dong. An hour from the workshop.
I read that sentence again. Reina was treating me as her personal guest today. Her guest at her studio, whom she'd come down for herself and escort upstairs. This wasn't a business relationship.
I pause for a beat.
"......Why."
A beat.
I reach for a cigarette. Reina was welcoming me as her guest today, yet she was warning me first that her guest was here to see someone else. This was information that hurt her. If she hadn't told me, I'd arrive at five, see Sohwa, and panic—and that panic could affect the collab stream. Reina had blocked that effect in advance. A judgment prioritizing the collab's success over her own feelings.
"Reina-ssi, thank you."
The DM window closes.
Three p.m. I grab my mask and hood and leave the house. On the taxi ride, I think about cigarettes four times. I don't take one out. The building with the studio is six stories tall. Tucked in a quiet alley in Seongsu-dong, no agency logo on the exterior. VTuber agency studios usually skip exterior logos for security.
I stand at reception and say, "Han-cut."
The staff glances at me. Not many people show up in a mask and hood announcing a one-word name. But there's no surprise on her face. She'd been briefed.
"Please wait a moment."
She picks up the intercom. "Han-cut-ssi is here. Yes, understood."
She hangs up and turns to me. "Reina-ssi is coming down now."
I wait off to one side of the lobby. The elevator numbers drop: 4, 3, 2, 1. The doors open. One woman steps out.
A bit above my shoulder height. Wine-red bob hair, dark and deep. Bangs swept back from her forehead. Deep-colored blouse, black slacks. A face I'd never seen. But I knew right away. The wine-red bob matched her avatar perfectly. Her eyes were narrow and sharp. Just like the avatar design.
Reina steps toward me and stops. "Han-cut-ssi."
Her voice is exactly like on stream. Low, pressing tone. First time hearing it off-screen.
"Yes."
"Thank you for coming."
"Yes."
Reina doesn't offer her hand. No handshake. Instead, she steps toward the elevator. "This way."
I follow. We ride up in silence. Reina leans against the elevator wall, one hand in her pocket, the other hanging loose. It looks indifferent. But somehow, I sense it's the pose she takes when she's most tense. Why do I sense that? Saying it's because editors read people is just an excuse.
"Fifth floor."
The elevator stops.
Fifth floor. Down the hall to the door. 'Studio A.' Reina taps her card, and it opens. Spacious inside. Two desks up front, three monitors each. PCs running avatar software, capture boards. Lighting setup and small sofa in back. Acoustic panels on the ceiling. Textbook VTuber studio layout.
Min Seo-jin stands at the left desk. A woman sits at the right. Sohwa.
Sohwa stares straight at me as I enter. Lavender-tinged silver hair down just past her shoulders. Pale purple irises. Small mole under her right eye. Her real self matches the avatar design. Whether the avatar was modeled after her or she styled herself to match, who knows. Both common in the VTuber world.
Sohwa's lips part slightly from her seat. But she doesn't speak. Min Seo-jin moves first.
"Han-cut-nim, you've arrived."
Min Seo-jin—we'd only DM'd before. Her real voice is calm and dry. Matches the impression from messages. Dark brown ponytail. White shirt, black slacks. No expression, but her gaze lingers on me a beat longer.
"Yes, hello."
"This is Sohwa-ssi."
"......Yes."
Sohwa stays seated. Doesn't stand. Looks like she started to, then stopped.
"Han-cut-nim."
That's Sohwa's first words to me.
"Yes."
"Can I stand now?"
"......Yes."
Sohwa rises slowly. Petite build. Her head reaches my shoulder, maybe. Wearing a cream-colored dress, not pale purple.
"Hello, I'm Sohwa."
Her voice is the stream voice. But half a tone lower. Means she's tense.
"Han-cut."
My voice comes low through the mask. Sohwa stares at me for a long time. Only my eyes visible above the mask, but her gaze locks straight on them. Then she bows her head slightly.
"Thank you for showing yourself."
"......Pardon?"
"For coming here today."
"......Yes."
"First time seeing Han-cut-nim's eyes."
I'm a beat late. Eyes. Not face, not voice—eyes. Sohwa had zeroed in on my eyes alone, and phrased it precisely as "first time."
"Yes."
"That's enough."
Sohwa sits back down. Reina speaks a beat behind me.
"Han-cut-ssi's spot is here."
Reina points to a small desk by the back sofa. Perfect view of the whole studio. Diagonal line of sight to both their backs. The spot for an editor observing raw footage live.
"Thank you."
"Thirty minutes till stream start. Take it easy."
I sit at the back desk. Reina and Sohwa return to their spots, checking avatar software. Min Seo-jin has a brief talk with Reina's agency manager. Five people total in the studio: me, Sohwa, Reina, Min Seo-jin, and one Reina agency manager.
Thirty minutes crawl by. Sohwa glances back at me once. Just once. Our eyes meet, then she turns to her monitor. That's it. Nothing more. That was Sohwa's promise for today. She'd asked for one look, I gave it, she took it. I know she's not the type to be satisfied with that. But she knows how to pretend she is. People who can act are scarier—and I learned that three years ago.
Six p.m. Stream starts.
"Hello, this is Reina."
"Hello, this is Sohwa."
Their voices overlap. Monitors show two avatars side by side. Wine-red bob Reina. Lavender-silver Sohwa.
Ten seconds in, concurrent viewers top ten thousand. Reina's core fans and Sohwa's flooding in together.
"Today, I'm playing a co-op game with Sohwa."
Reina starts. Low, composed tone. On-stream Reina isn't the elevator Reina. The one with hand in pocket looking indifferent now faces the monitor straight-on.
"First time playing co-op with a senior. I'll probably mess up a lot—is that okay?"
Sohwa follows. Her usual stream tone, a hint of tension. But chat reads it as "excitement."
"Mess up as much as you want. We're in it together."
Reina replies.
"Thank you."
"Let's start."
Game begins.
The collab unfolds exactly as planned. Reina leads the gameplay, Sohwa handles reactions. Reina analyzes, Sohwa plays the "dutiful junior following senior." Fans love this: mid-tier mentoring hakko. But balanced to look like mutual growth. Reina nails the balance—gives Sohwa speaking room, but takes reins at key moments.
Around thirty minutes in, I notice something. Reina glances back occasionally. At me in the back. Camera angle hides it from viewers. Avatars face front; even if she turns, they don't. But her real gaze flicks back for split seconds. Once, twice, three times. Third time, our eyes meet. Reina's lip corner twitches faintly—not a smile, more "I see you seeing me." Then back to monitor. No impact on gameplay. But I log all three moments. In editing, I'll check for changes in her tone or pace. If any, handle carefully. Viewers won't know, but I do. Those moments left in the edit become fodder.
One-hour mark. Reina's first failure in-game. Co-op means one fail resets both. She exhales short. "Ah, I died."
"It's okay, sunbae-nim."
"Sorry."
"No, I fail here a lot too."
Chat warms up. Reina's fail was real, but the "sorry" had a touch of acting. She rarely says "sorry" on stream—usually emotionless "let's redo." Today was different. She chose that word. I know why: fans crave it. "Reina softening for junior." Core content of this collab. Reina sacrificing her brand a bit to boost Sohwa. Taking the hit to her image to carry the stream. I watch from the back. Reina doesn't fear showing me her limits. But that "sorry" to Sohwa came after a hesitant beat. What she really fears isn't me seeing her—it's dropping her armor in front of Sohwa. It reads itself, whether I want it to or not.
Two-and-a-half-hour mark. Game hits story section—heavy dialogue. Why Reina picked this game.
"Sunbae-nim, choice here—what do we pick?"
"Follow your judgment. No wrong answer."
"......My judgment."
"Yeah."
"My judgment's not great."
"It's not bad judgment—it's that you haven't tried."
Stream dialogue, but it feels aimed at me. "You haven't tried." Sounds like to me. I'd spent two days agonizing over continuing Sohwa. Pretending to agonize while just delaying judgment. Labeling delay as agony. Reina knows. Whether intentional or coincidence in the stream, it hits the same weight.
"......I'll go with sunbae-nim's words."
Sohwa answers.
"You can judge for yourself."
"No, today I want to follow sunbae-nim."
Sohwa's line paints the fan picture. But to me, it lands different. "Today I want to follow sunbae-nim." She doesn't want to judge now. Her judgment might rebound on her. So she hands it off. To Reina. And to me. To me. Two days, she left her break to my judgment, the collab to my judgment, continuing as client to my judgment. Giving me all the judging, taking only the result. That's how Sohwa protects herself.
Three-hour mark. Stream nears end. At the ending screen, Reina says, "Thanks for doing this with me today."
"No, thank you."
"Let's do it again sometime."
"Thank you."
"Thanks to everyone who watched today."
Stream ends. Studio goes quiet. Reina and Sohwa glance at each other, then both turn back simultaneously. Both look at me. One doesn't smile, one smiles faintly. Reina's the one who doesn't.
"Han-cut-ssi."
Reina first.
"Yes."
"How was the stream?"
"You did great."
"No issues for editing?"
"Clean."
"Good."
Sohwa rises slowly, unlike Reina's direct stride. Stops in front of me, bows once.
"Han-cut-nim, thank you for today."
"......Yes."
"Can I ask one thing?"
"Yes."
"Did you watch me during the stream today, Han-cut-nim?"
"......Yes, I did."
"From behind?"
"Yes."
"I looked back once."
"Yes, I know."
"Only once. I kept the promise."
"......Yes."
"Han-cut-nim."
"Yes."
"Now you have to answer."
I freeze a beat.
"About whether I'll keep handling Sohwa-ssi."
"Yes."
Everyone in the studio looks at me. Reina. Sohwa. Min Seo-jin. Reina's manager. Four gazes fixed above my mask.
I endure them, thinking. This decision isn't just "keep client or not." It's answering "Am I still the right person to edit Sohwa?" The question I couldn't answer for that VTuber three years ago.
I'm not ready. But I have to answer. I open my mouth.
"Sohwa-ssi."
"Yes."
"I—"
Min Seo-jin's phone rings. Agency tone. Managers silence phones during streams. This is emergency line.
Min Seo-jin picks up. "Yes, Manager Min Seo-jin. ......Yes. ......When."
Her voice drops a beat. Dry Min Seo-jin going drier means bad news. I could tell from DM tones alone.
She ends the call, approaches me.
"Han-cut-nim."
"......Yes."
"Call from the agency."
"What about."
Min Seo-jin pauses a beat.
"Tomorrow morning, an 'official statement on editor' goes up on the fan cafe and Sohwa's channel."
My breath stops.
"......A statement I don't know about."
"Yes."
"Who decided."
"Team leader Park Jin-woo."
Studio freezes solid. Sohwa grips her chair back. Reina steps back.
"What's it say."
Min Seo-jin faces me straight.
"'Contract with Han-cut editor will be concluded.'"