The First Outdoor Stream
Saturday afternoon, 1:50 p.m.
At last, the time for the outdoor broadcast had arrived.
I had not even started the stream yet, and already nearly a thousand viewers were waiting in the lobby. Some of them were surely there for the drama, but plenty of them had to be genuinely looking forward to my outdoor stream.
I left the house in the same short-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants I had worn for the rehearsal. The only difference was the extra phone in my pocket—a secondary handset.
I had realized, a little late, that checking chat on the same phone I was using to film was impossible. So I had scrambled through the secondhand market and grabbed a cheap spare unit for the purpose.
In one hand I held the smartphone gimbal; in the other, the secondary phone for reading chat. I took a light breath.
Time to hit the go-live button.
The title I set was simple.
Unknown's First Outdoor Stream
All right. Here we go.
Whirrrr—
The gimbal leveled itself smoothly, and the peaceful scenery of the neighborhood alley filled the phone screen. I lifted the secondary phone and checked the chat.
After a quick glance at the chat, I slipped the secondary phone back into my pocket.
I could not see the chat window, but the TTS rolled through the speaker and into my ear with perfect clarity.
"I will say it again: I am not a hikikomori…."
Jeong Eun-gyeol might have been one. I most certainly was not.
…I could not think of a single reply to that one. Ignoring a donation that large felt wrong, though.
"Ah… well. Thank you for the fifty thousand. Shower and cologne both—your room's air quality must have improved considerably, sir. That is a fine thing."
A few more donations, large and small, popped off after that. Gratitude for donations did not count as an opening line, so the real first words still needed saying.
And delivering lines outdoors, I discovered, was not as easy as it looked. Rambling at a monitor inside a room and standing alone on a sunlit street muttering into a phone were difficulties of entirely different species.
I checked that no one was walking past, cleared my throat once, and opened my mouth in a voice smaller than usual.
"As announced, I have come outside. The purpose is to stroll the streets with all of you and converse on various topics. As for where this is—that, of course, remains a secret."
The donations offered no particular reaction, so I pulled the phone from my pocket again and checked how people were responding.
They thought I was scared?
Well… I would admit it honestly. Even with no one around it was this bad; how on earth did streamers who went outdoor in crowded places manage it? My respect for them climbed a notch.
Still, I could not stay frozen forever. I had no intention of tanking the broadcast. Time to pull myself together and push on.
I cleared my throat, braced my core, and spoke.
"Correct. Today is also the occasion on which I prove I am not a wild boar. And as many of you fear, I am not cherry-picking deserted routes, so rest easy."
"Proving it with a face is the work of amateurs. True proof is made through circumstance and reaction. Shall we move?"
With that I set off. Right—I must not forget to say this either.
"While I am walking it will be difficult to check chat, so please bear with me. Carrying two phones is cumbersome. And if any of you leave nonsense in the chat assuming I cannot see it… you will regret it later."
A few grumbles arrived by donation, but holding a phone in each hand was more than my stamina could support. It could not be helped.
I walked the street carefully, avoiding any glass that might reflect my image. Dead air was unacceptable while moving, so I had to keep talking even if the words were useless. Conveniently, a pedestrian was approaching from the opposite direction.
A middle-aged man who looked to be in his mid-forties. He stared blankly at me muttering into a gimbal, then shook his head hard and walked past.
"Did any of you notice something about the passerby who just went by?"
"Nietzsche said that absolute facts do not exist—only subjective interpretations. Interestingly, Zhuangzi, through his Equalizing Assessments of Things, also cautioned against measuring the world by one's own private yardstick."
Question marks flooded the chat.
"They sound different, yet they converge on a single meaning: there is no correct answer. Nietzsche's point is that there is no absolute truth, only each person's interpretation. Zhuangzi's is that dividing the myriad things into superior and inferior by humanity's shallow measures is meaningless. In Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil one finds this: 'What in us really wants "truth"?' He continues: 'Indeed we came to a long halt at the question about the cause of this will—until we finally came to a complete stop before a still more basic question. We asked about the value of this will. Suppose we want truth: why not rather untruth? And uncertainty? Even ignorance?' Everyone—does truth truly exist? Or even if it does, is it actually of any help? What serves our lives may instead be untruth. If truth exists, is everything that is not truth therefore untruth? Is truth forever truth, and untruth forever untruth?"
"……"
I had gotten carried away without noticing. But having started, I ought to finish.
"…In any case, the two philosophers share a certain ground. From the perspective of some viewers watching my stream on a monitor, I am interpreted as a hundred-kilogram wild boar. From the perspective of the pedestrian who just stared and walked past, I may have been interpreted as a crazy woman muttering into a phone on the street in broad daylight—or as a YouTuber or influencer. Which side is the truth? Perhaps truth does not exist at all, and we merely live inside our respective illusions."
Come to think of it, it was fortunate that no one else had walked by after that pedestrian. I had gotten so immersed I had been holding forth at quite a volume….
Anyway, after all that talking a neighborhood café entered my field of view.
"I have talked so much my throat is dry. I will stop by that café and grab a coffee to go."
Leaving the viewers' reactions behind me, I opened the door of the small independent café and stepped inside.
Ding-a-ling—
The place was quiet. Behind the counter stood a young male part-timer who looked about college age. A passerby was one thing, but filming a café worker's face would be rude, so I tilted the angle downward and approached the counter.
"One iced Americano, please."
At my order the part-timer who had been tidying the counter raised his head.
"Yes, one iced Americano—"
He trailed off as he looked at my face. Eyes round, he stared straight at me for a moment before finally managing to speak.
"Uh, um, so… for here?"
He was stammering badly. The viewers could only see the floor right now, but the tips of the part-timer's fingers operating the POS were trembling faintly.
"No, to go."
"Ah, yes! I'll have it ready right away!"
He kept sneaking glances at my face as he pulled out a cup and began preparing the coffee.
What to do while waiting? The thought of the viewers staring at nothing but the floor the whole time made me a little uncomfortable. I looked at the part-timer and spoke.
"Excuse me…."
"Yes?!"
"I'm actually streaming right now… would it be all right if I filmed the inside of the café a little?"
He seemed to think for a second, then answered.
"Ah, yes. Are you uploading it somewhere like YouTube?"
"No. It's a personal stream on Vivid, so it won't go up on YouTube."
Permission granted. I turned the camera toward the interior of the café with peace of mind. Might as well check the chat status while I was at it.
They were in chaos. I left them to it and walked back to the counter. The Americano looked about ready.
A moment later the part-timer set a tray in front of me. On it, however, sat more than just the Americano. Nestled in an elegant clear box was a fresh-cream cake that looked, at a glance, extremely expensive.
"Um… I didn't order cake?"
When I asked, puzzled, the part-timer flushed and spoke in a hurried tone.
"Ah, that…! It's our store's new cake, and I thought if you like cake I could give you one on the house…!"
Remarkable. Jeong Eun-gyeol's beauty. That cake looked like it easily cost over ten thousand won….
Still, refusing here would also be impolite, would it not?
"I'll gratefully accept it. Thank you, I'll enjoy it."
"Yes, yes! Thank you! Have a good day! A-and please come again!"
I picked up the coffee and the cake box from the tray and stepped out of the café.
Ding-a-ling—
The door closed and I was back on the alley. The instant I was outside I checked the secondary phone's screen. The chat was in an uproar.
I looked down at the cake box and let out a short laugh.
Proof had turned out to be surprisingly easy. I did not have to add a single word of my own; the world simply delivered the evidence on its own.