A Not-So-Great Morning

Dong.... dong.... dong....

My eyes drifted open to the dull clang of church bells ringing deep inside my skull.

“Uuuugh...!”

The moment I lifted my head, the bells pealed even harder, as if hurrying me along. There was no church anywhere near here. Even if there had been, no one in their right mind would start hammering the belfry at this hour of the morning...

Doooong...!!

“Ghk—! Not bells—it's the hangover! My head is the one ringing! Damn it!”

I clutched my skull as a migraine slammed my brain against the inside of my cranium. I liked drinking just fine—this was simply the wretched end of someone who had not been stronger than the booze.

“M-my stomach—! Ugh....!”

I barely managed to force back the pancake batter trying to climb up my throat and staggered for the bathroom.

And then—

Bleeaaargh—!!

I heaved up a disgusting mass from the pit of my stomach. The sight of the mangled jerky chunks I'd eaten the night before bobbing gently in the toilet bowl was not something anyone needed to see. Steadying my wobbly head, I flushed. Whooosh—the water swirled away cleanly. I shoved my face into the sink beside it and gargled out the last residual vomit still clinging to my mouth. Tiny bits of jerky and grains of rice that had ridden up with it washed away in the water.

“Haa... haa... Auto-hunt successful....”

I shoved the remaining debris down the drain, twisted the faucet, and ran the cold water. Then I dunked my head under it like I meant to bury my face in the basin. Icy water poured from the crown of my head down over my cheeks and off my chin.

“Ahhh... that's better.”

The gong-like pounding in my brain froze a little under the cold and finally eased. People always said mixing soju and beer would split your head open the next day. Past Me: Yeah, I know. And with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that tank-commander mindset I had downed the lot—so of course the karma had come home to roost.

I wrapped a towel around my sopping hair. I didn't have the strength left to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walk all the way to the mattress. Leaving only my feet still inside the bathroom so the slippers I hadn't taken off yet wouldn't track water out, I lay down. I wriggled my toes free of the slippers, then flopped and undulated across the floor like some boneless invertebrate until I reached the mattress.

“From the mattress's point of view, I must look like the Crawling Chaos. Nyarlathotep himself.”

Still babbling nonsense like a patient half-under anesthesia, I finally settled onto the mattress. The soft blanket folded around me in a gentle embrace. I was about to surrender to the fatigue rolling back in when a burning thirst hauled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me upright again.

“Water... waaater... I'm out of water...”

Like a low-rank vampire craving blood, I lurched and shuffled toward the fridge. I opened the compact little unit—about twice the size of a microwave—and cool air washed over my face.

“Ssssuuup... haaah...”

I expelled the stale, alcohol-fouled air from my lungs and breathed in the fridge's clean chill.

“Yep. Sniffing a fridge definitely beats sniffing a dakimakura.”

I stayed there drinking in the cold for a moment—until the fridge started beeping at me like it was delivering a scolding monologue. Beep-beep-beep-beep.

“I get it. I get it, okay. If only I had actual engineering expertise, I could rewire that into a real lecture... Missed opportunity.”

I pulled out the bottle of water that had been my entire objective and carefully shut the door on our shy little fridge-chan. No more noisy beep-beep-beep. Did it come with a built-in tsundere package, too?

“Sorry, Fridge-chan... I'm just not the kind of woman who can leave you open all day.”

The second I opened my mouth, the thirst surged back. My throat was screaming for me to shut up and give it water already.

“Hup—!”

I clenched my molars and cracked the stubborn seal on the bottle. Gulp, gulp. The water—left in the fridge so long it had degenerated into a pure 2°C chill—soaked deliciously down my throat. I drank until the thirst was gone, and the once-full bottle was suddenly empty. I crushed it flat so it wouldn't waste volume and tossed it in the trash.

“Thirst's gone. Time to go back to sleep.”

I was trudging back to the mattress under the weight of my exhaustion when the computer edged into my field of view—and a vital fact cracked through my skull like lightning.

“That's right...! I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drank so I could stream!!”

The fatigue sheared off with a snap. I practically bounced into the chair in front of the PC. I liked to think my drunk habits weren't that bad—but if I'd somehow left a stream running all night, that would be a full-scale disaster. Heart hammering, I checked the power light.

“Thank god. It's definitely off.”

People said alcohol turned you into an animal. At least I seemed to keep the important things intact—so when I got drunk I only became a demi-human or a fairy, not a full beast.

“The worst-case scenario didn't happen. Good.”

The tension drained out of me on a long exhale.

“Okay, let's reconstruct... How exactly did that stream go...?”

I clawed my way back up through the tangled mess of memory, trying to reconstruct the broadcast. Early on my energy had been a little high, but overall I'd run things the way I meant to. The problem came right after that. The moment someone requested a different drink and I cracked open the soju, the rest of the night dissolved into static.

“I... I have some memory of reading chat, but... the second I try to dig deeper the headache comes back.”

I'd at least shut the stream down properly afterward. So I'd probably done fine enough?

“I bet I just said stuff like, ‘Viewers are the best! Thank you for watching a small-time streamer like me, sob sob—!’”

Sure, the VOD would still be sitting on the channel. But I had zero desire to deliberately upload last night's steaming-hot black history into my brain. Maybe this was a good chance to practice trusting myself.

“Mm-hmm. Believe in myself.”

Which meant it was time to check the loot from the auto-hunt. I wasn't hoping for a million won in donations. Please—just spare me the three-meals-a-day cup-ramen sentence. With the same flutter of anticipation as opening a mystery gift box, I powered on the computer. The moment the screen came up, a few clicks took me onto the streaming platform. How much had piled up? The more the better—

“Th-this is....”

The number hit me and I doubted my own eyes. Total donations over the last twenty-four hours:

“More than double what I got the day before yesterday? That can't be right. From what I remember, I hadn't even cracked a hundred thousand...”

My memory cut off cleanly right before I opened the soju. Everything after that—donations included—was a blur of white noise.

“What the hell happened in between?”

I'd been trying to trust myself, but this much money in one night was making me extremely nervous.

“The VOD.... I have to check it, don't I?”

Lee Jiyeon clicked her mouse and scrolled to the next post. With a heavy heart she read through the community threads blazing with talk of Haruna and Konoko.

“So Ms. Kim Minseo was a streamer too....”

The result of that lonely, thoughtless phone call had come back around like this.

“More importantly, what do I do...? Because I called without thinking, I completely imposed on Ms. Kim Minseo—on Konoko! I'm never going to be able to contact her again. She's definitely already blocked my number!”

Mid-lament, drowning in negative self-loathing, her smartphone buzzed from under the blanket as if telling her to knock it off.

“Who is it...?”

The instant she pulled the phone out of the covers and checked the screen, a short gasp escaped Lee Jiyeon's lips.