28. A Hunter Taking a Break

"Send me just one photo."

I fire off the KakaoTalk message to Seon-hwa.

-8 minutes later-

She sends a selfie right away, no hesitation—like she snapped it on the spot. She's in light homewear, but her face is fully made up.

Even at home, she does her makeup. Blame the streams?

And the angle—she's subtly avoiding the camera lens, pretending not to notice it. She's definitely got a few unpublished shots stashed away.

Even after we've gone all the way and started dating, she keeps hiding her hand. Seon-hwa's tsundere vibe shines through. And damn, it's adorable.

"So cute."

So damn cute. I plant a few kisses on the photo, tempted to bite her for real.

"Hooah."

I've got a girlfriend now. Two fuckbuddies, even. Who knew my life would hit this peak? Dopamine overload's got my head spinning.

I roll around on the bed like a kid, finally exhaling in satisfaction.

But the afterglow doesn't last.

"Haa... reality's still a shithole, though."

Put down the phone from our lovey-dovey chat, and the cramped room stares back. Depression crashes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in.

Hanging with these famous women has shown me something clear.

...I'm pathetic.

A single-room rental. Cheap at 350,000 won a month, but it's a tiny, rundown studio. My net worth? Under 3 million won. The bank account feels like a brutal winter gale.

Meanwhile, the women I see? Fancy houses, designer clothes, luxury makeup. We're not even playing the same game.

I've dug into their finances myself—how big the gap really is.

Internet revenue calculators make it easy. Rough estimates pop right up.

Starting with Seon-hwa.

My jaw drops. Note it's per month, not year. She's punching above top corporate salaries with violent swagger. Sponsors or ads could push it higher.

Next, So Yu-na, the cosplay specialist.

Yu-na's too spicy for YouTube cash, but her occasional merch drops make bank. Could be less than Seon-hwa... or way more.

Then the mega-whale, Ha Yeon-su. Digging into her numbers made my head spin.

Looks similar at a glance, and streams surprisingly low. But Yeon-su's everywhere—running a studio in central Seoul, high standing in associations, constant media exposure. Guest spots on major broadcasts left and right.

That's just the tip. Studio profits, appearances, ads, sponsors, etc. My math says she clears 200 million won monthly easy. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Might be off, but from blackmailing BJs, I know the ecosystem. Close enough.

Think luxury import car per month.

Two Yeon-su episodes hit me while researching. Blackmailing this cash machine... and her doing adult streams in just a mask. Either leaking would've been a massive firestorm.

Looking back, that was insane. Dizzying.

Yoon Mi-na's SNS-focused, so contract ads are hush-hush. But her clothes scream she outearns me by miles.

For reference, my monthly haul:

More than you'd think—entry-level salary territory. But I blew most of my Hacking Tool savings, so now I'm broke. Barely 3 million in the bank. Those monster numbers crushed my motivation.

Long story short: my situation's a sewer compared to theirs.

So I decide.

Time to start streaming.

Plenty of free time outside gym and girls. Can't keep showing up to them looking like this—face stays flat.

Case in point: yesterday at Seon-hwa's.

Couldn't offer to replace it or buy something else. Grumbled in the shower about a scrap of fabric costing 760k.

Back home, analyzing earnings crystallized it: we live in different worlds.

This sparks deep thoughts. Leads to: I'll stream too.

No guarantee of their success level, but worth a shot. Gotta recoup that 20 million won.

Fire up the Let's Enjoy Together! app I dropped 20 mil on. Review functions beyond streaming.

I mutter along, then tilt my head at the last line.

"Gold Lion?"

Ding-dong!

Perfect timing—the bell. "Delivery!" A box thuds outside.

I dash out, grab the microwave-sized package, haul it inside.

"Whoa?!"

Slice the tape clean with a cutter. Inside: a real Gold Lion mask.

Curious, I try it on—way lighter than it looks.

Not actual gold, right?

Wishful thinking. Surface is softer than expected—not cotton or foam, not metal. No clue, so I press it on tight.

A new world unfolds.

Somehow, full field of view—clearer, sharper than naked eye. No narrow doll-eye slits.

Edges show streaming interfaces, my vitals. Total game-changer. Like VR gear. Nah, more Iron Man suit.

Swiveling my head, Iron Man-style analysis pops up on objects. Crisp crimson digital text reports everything.

"Fuck, this is insane..."

Now I get the 20 mil price tag. Gotta test full features live, but this mask alone's worth it. Convinced.

Hot breath fogs from the Gold Lion's mouth. Unexpected jackpot. Adrenaline surges—I can't contain the hype.

Calm down... got precious gear now. One thing to do.

"Pew pew! Hey, Jarvis! Analyze the situation! What!? Enemy ambush ahead?! No choice—launching, whooooosh!"

I play solo Iron Man in the room. Regressing to childhood, I bounce on the bed like mad.

Exactly 10 minutes later, maturity equivalent to my 24 years hits like a hangover.