More Interested in the Face Than the Apology

The stream was currently displaying a photo of crooked, slapdash lettering scrawled in Paint that read:

About three minutes to go.

I pulled a suit from deep in the wardrobe, where it hung neat and straight on its hanger. I could count every single time I'd worn it — that's how rarely the thing ever left the closet.

"The last times I put on a suit were… the second interview, and the second interview, and also the second interview… ugh, my head."

I stuffed those memories that never should have existed back where they belonged and focused only on the crisis right in front of me.

I put the suit on properly and cinched the black tie until I could barely breathe.

"All that's left is the greenscreen…"

To be completely honest, there was zero chance I owned anything resembling a greenscreen. But I couldn't just shrug that off and move on. If I at least prepared something greenscreen-adjacent, maybe the viewers would go, Yeah, this scrub's so broke she can't even buy a real one, and cut me some slack.

"The whole point of a greenscreen is making the background easy to edit out. So if I just swap it for something solid-colored…"

I looked around for anything usable. My eyes landed on the blanket at my feet — a soft blue one. Solid-colored enough, at least.

I hung the blanket over a drying rack, adjusted the camera angle until it more or less filled the background, and called it done.

"This should work, right? Ahem. Perfect…!"

The alarm I'd set for nine o'clock on the nose went off so I wouldn't forget. Time to deliver a thorough, deeply halfhearted apology.

"Spine ready to bend: check. Forehead prepped for floor contact: check. All right~ Enter the athlete."

"Viewers, I am truly, deeply sorry."

"To address that point first — I am, biologically speaking, unequivocally a woman. Any remarks I made on the previous stream were made in a compromised mental state, so I ask that you kindly disregard them."

"Ha… has this bastard lost their mind? Hey, you little shit — you dare break the taboo?!"

"Oh…? You're sorry? Too bad. Saying sorry ends your life as a viewer…. No. That was undignified. I lost my composure over a petty provocation. Let me collect myself and offer a proper apology once more."

"I would like to offer a sincere apology for answering the phone while completely drunk and revealing the caller's real name. After looking into it, I learned that the person who called me is in fact active as a VTuber."

"Haa… I'm trying to apologize here, and you all keep treating it like a joke. I can't take this anymore!"

Crash, bang, clatter…!!

"Fine, fine! I'm sorry! I'm the sinner here! A nobody scrub went and leaked the real name of a major VTuber like Haruna. There are definitely Haruna fans in this chat right now, aren't there? Yeah? So what are any of you going to do about it — I've already called Haruna and been forgiven."

"I am apologizing. I do feel bad. I even put on a whole suit, and since I didn't have a greenscreen, I jury-rigged one by hanging a blanket on a drying rack!"

"And all any of you can say is that I look hot in a suit! Do you people have hearts? Do you?! When someone apologizes, take it seriously! I came out here fully prepared…! The least you could do is throw me a 'cancel' or a 'neutral' in chat! How is more than half the chat just 'she's so hot' and 'ngh ngh ngh'?!"

"But why?! RP is a VTuber's life! And I completely obliterated that RP!"

"The reason is….?"

Reading the chat, I suddenly remembered just how painfully small-time I still was. Canceling a nobody scrub — what a contradiction in terms.

Shame crawled up my throat in a prickling wave.

I… was being way too self-important, wasn't I.

Three days of streaming, a little bit of traction, and I was already talking about getting canceled.

Blood rushed to my face in a hot flood.

"So… I didn't even need to do an apology stream? The suit, that background behind me — all of it was unnecessary?! I could've just posted 'sorry' in the announcements and been done with it?!"

"Why is everyone being so understanding…? This is weird! Normally when a scrub messes with a big corp — intentional or not — people go, 'I was bored anyway, perfect timing,' and dogpile them, don't they?"

"Still, wrapping this up so casually feels weirdly unsatisfying."

"This is… the absolute maximum of regret I can physically express…. Uwaaah—!! Surprise grand dogeza!"

I clenched my abs until they felt ready to burst and lifted my legs the way you would for a yoga pose. Blood rushed to my ears; they felt ready to cook bright red any second.

Even so….

I held it!

Gravity tugged my shirt downward, and a strip of bare skin along my back was exposed.

"Wait… my center of gravity is…!! Uwaaaaagh!"

Crunch.