Gotta Do What You Gotta Do
No matter how thoroughly my emotions had swallowed me whole, I couldn't just go around killing people.
I wasn't about to launch into some boring lecture about how every life is precious. Honestly, the second those bastards used my sword to murder innocents, they stopped being innocent victims themselves.
But still... this was simply a problem with my own head.
Lately I'd been living a life that was way too happy for someone like me.
This wasn't where I belonged. Whenever I thought about the people who'd died because of me, the people grieving because of me, I had no right to live like this.
I'd deluded myself into thinking that meeting good people, meeting good viewers, might actually make things a little better.
There was no way a mind that had been ground down for seven straight years would just snap back overnight.
The moment I tasted blood again, that half-gone mind of mine started running wild on its own.
"...So yeah. I'm not going to miss this."
I knew myself better than anyone. I knew perfectly well that I was the kind of shameless bitch who'd already taken help once and would want to take it from my viewers all over again.
If I got any more attached and then lost it all a second time, I didn't think I could endure it. If people got disappointed and left — would I still be able to hold on?
So keeping a relationship like this going would only be a nuisance for both sides.
Rationalizing it to myself like that, I unlocked my phone.
It always hurt, taking a blade to a perfectly fine human connection. But there was no other way. Extreme situations called for extreme measures.
I thought of the Sword Saint title succession ceremony, only a few weeks away now.
I still hadn't shown my face, but there was no chance viewers weren't already stacking the silver-haired Sword Saint against my appearance. After years of stirring up chaos online, I knew exactly how sharp those internet ghosts were at digging up the truth.
What if my identity came out and they started cursing me?
What if among my viewers there was a family member of someone who'd died because of me? Someone who'd lost a person they loved right in front of them because I wasn't good enough?
"So... I'm not going to miss this."
It was fine. I hadn't gotten that deeply attached yet.
I was grateful to Ara for saving me when I was in danger. Grateful to that friend 219.55 who'd put up with all my nonsense without a word of complaint. Grateful to the gallery viewers who'd helped me along the way—
"I can still cut it off. I can still do this."
Murmuring it like a mantra, I started the stream. The second I confirmed the screen was on, I tossed the phone onto the bed without a second thought.
The late-spring cold snap should have passed by now, but the moment I threw off the blanket and sat up, it was freezing. Sitting there in nothing but my underwear, staring blankly into space, I felt like every one of my sins was laid bare for the whole world to see — so I hastily wrapped the blanket around my entire body.
A dark room with no one in it.
A blanket cocooning me from head to toe.
A life without purpose, and the negative thoughts that kept welling up no matter what.
Half a year had gone by, and I still hadn't changed a bit.
"Pfft..."
I let out a scornful little laugh at myself. Once it felt like the viewers had started gathering, I opened my mouth.
"...Guys."
A thought snagged on my heart and wouldn't let go — Is this really the right call?
The second I said the next words out loud, there would be no taking them back. Disappointed viewers would never return, and I'd go back to rotting away in this cramped little one-room apartment.
I knew all of that, and somehow the words still came out easily.
"Even if I told you I was a murderer who'd killed people... would you still love me?"
A brief silence filled the room.
Well — calling it silence might have been a stretch. The chat was probably already a five-alarm dumpster fire.
Not that I particularly wanted to check. The chat would be full of nothing but condemnation either way.
I didn't have the kind of hobby where I poked at my own wounds knowing full well it would hurt.
I just leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, and kept talking like I was muttering to myself.
"Even if I told you I was a cowardly runaway who abandoned her comrades and fled?"
There had been a time when death terrified me so much I'd run just to stay alive.
Until I realized that watching people I cared about die for my sake was scarier than dying myself, I'd been a coward who couldn't even properly face the monsters head-on.
"Even if I'm not as great a person as you all think I am?"
There was a dark underside beneath the myth of the Sword Saint.
An undefeated legendary hero? I was never anyone that grand. If someone like that actually existed, the war would have ended ages ago.
Of course there were countless deaths beneath every so-called "great victory."
The countless soldiers who'd died creating one-on-one situations between me and the bosses. The nameless young men who threw their lives away plugging every gap every time I made a single mistake.
They were the real heroes.
Not me, fighting to survive — the warriors who threw themselves in front of monsters knowing they would die, just to buy even one more second. They were the ones who deserved the praise.
"Even if I'm not a real hero at all... just a fake standing on top of everyone else's sacrifice?"
Pfft...
A powerless sigh slipped out.
Once the dam broke, the words poured out of me like a confession.
The guilt crushing my heart. The true face I'd desperately tried to hide. Even the real me — not a celebrated hero, just an ordinary young woman.
It was a strangely novel feeling.
I could never have told Maria any of this, not even if I'd died trying. Not Clara, not even Alice.
Maybe it was the barrier of being online. Things I could never say to people in real life came out so easily, and somehow my chest felt lighter for it.
"...Haha. Sorry for only talking about heavy stuff like this."
I was cutting my own ties with my own hands. I figured it would feel like before — sobbing, barely managing to shove people away while carving into my own heart.
Strangely, though, I felt at peace. Like something that had been pressing down on my heart had been swept clean away.
So I could brace myself for the coming goodbye with a little more ease.
"You're... disappointed, right?"
Of course they were disappointed.
I'd only been streaming for a few weeks, but we'd been together in the gallery for over half a year. Nobody enjoyed watching someone like that show them the ugly insides of their heart.
Ah, right.
Since I was leaving the gallery, I needed to name a successor as Ju-ttak. 219.55 would probably be the best choice, right?
They'd done so much for me that I wanted to repay them somehow. It hurt that this was the only way I could.
"...I'm really sorry for being this kind of person, everyone."
Should I drop one last giveaway before I go?
Ah. It had been such a hard decision, and now it just felt hollow.
This place had been like a home for half a year. What was I even supposed to do with the rest of my life now?
Honestly, I wanted a little more time together.
Looking back now, I think I was really happy.
Talking without formalities, without overthinking, just saying whatever came to mind — that was fun.
"Well then, I'll be—"
"Hkyah!?"
What yanked my sunken mind back up was the donation alert volume, which I'd left cranked all the way to the max.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, threw off the blanket, and scrambled backward. Without meaning to, a girlish squeak completely out of place with the mood burst out of me.
Half a beat later, the thought of the donation message itself caught up.
I'd been stupid enough not to turn donations off. The second that occurred to me I grabbed for my phone — but the TTS was already reading the message aloud.
"...Huh?"
The first line that came through the TTS's robotic voice was neither comfort nor condemnation.
Just an everyday conversation, the way gallery users always talked. It didn't fit the situation at all, and somehow that was reassuring.
"But, but... I..."
"..."
I tried to argue back, but nothing came out.
Thinking about it, it was obvious.
We were a bunch of weirdos who'd gathered in a dark gallery nobody looked at and somehow formed this strange little community.
"...Really?"
And just like that, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life without my permission.
Maybe these people would still love me the same way even after my identity came out. Maybe they'd still pay attention to me, still hang out like always.
so hurry up and turn the camera on and start streaming already
gotta do what you gotta do
and while you're at it explain that "I killed people" part too
"..."
A donation in that completely ordinary tone of voice, as if nothing had happened, poured courage into my heart. My trembling hands slowly reached for the phone.
.
.
.
Wedged in among the stream of five-hundred-won donations was that oddly specific amount, and looking at it, I couldn't help laughing.
The gloomy weight from before I'd started the stream had long since blown away completely.
All that was left in my heart was the same flutter I'd felt the first time I ever hit go live.
"Hup...!"
Buoyed by a racing heartbeat I hadn't felt in so long, I flipped the phone around—
"Unnie! You're awa...ke?"
With a bang, Clara burst into the room.
"Ah?"
"...Ah."
Looks like we'd just had a stream accident.