Drunken Confessions
Getting drunk was like stepping indoors and shedding a layer of outer clothing. It stripped away the awkwardness, letting words you'd been too hesitant to say come pouring out with unfiltered honesty. Yoon Seol, having grasped this truth a bit too early, clung to me and sobbed for what felt like ages.
"Waaahhh..."
"Don't cry. I'm not crying."
"Hic... It's not too late even now, so please just tell me it's all made up... hic..."
I looked troubled. Explaining it a second time wasn't hard now that I'd already confessed everything to Professor Cheon. But Yoon Seol had listened to my tragic life story from start to finish with a heavy expression, and she couldn't keep her composure. Maybe the high-proof alcohol played a part too.
"No crying. No crying. Santa doesn't give presents to kids who cry."
"...?"
"You gonna keep crying like this? Huh? Huh, huh, huh?"
"Sniff."
"You gonna keep it up? No presents for real if you cry, okay? Huhhh?"
After a short nursery rhyme verse, my barrage of cutesy affection began. Yoon Seol, caught off guard, stared in dazed wonder until she finally burst out laughing with a pfft. Who wouldn't smile at that tiny face with its sparkling eyes blinking away? And when I gently wiped her tears, she clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
"Hic. Aren't you just too cute, Nami...?"
"You can call me cute as much as you want today. For some reason, it doesn't bug me."
"Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute...!"
"Ugh... booze breath."
"Hey, NoName...! You're no slouch either...! I'm letting it slide just this once as your big sis, got it? No more drinking like this, ever."
My recent schedule was downright murderous. Prepping for two tournaments wasn't enough; I poured over ten hours a day into solving tough proofs, and even squeezed in scrim reviews for enemy analysis. I'd only recently carved out some free time, so Yoon Seol rationalized it as okay to overlook a little rebellion from a kid who'd been run ragged.
How could I ever be jealous of a girl like this?
She couldn't hide her poignant sympathy. Deciding words weren't enough for this poor kid and actions spoke louder, she pulled me into another hug.
"You too, sis."
I slowly opened my mouth.
"You don't have to hide how tough it is."
My eyes settled into a calmer gaze than before. The cute, bubbly drunken antics faded back to my usual seriousness.
"You nearly died yesterday, can't go home for a while, but why do you always act like it's fine, like it's nothing?"
Her behavior so far wasn't normal at all. Brushing off whatever happened to the perp like it was none of her business, helping with chores around the house while plastering on a smile the whole time. No trace of the anxiety, impatience, or terror from almost dying.
"'Cause it's no big deal."
Yoon Seol shot back, her voice thick with emotion.
"What if I fell from the 13th floor...? People... people don't get it. They just remember me as the one who got Cha or you killed."
The public only sees what they want. That was my takeaway from living as Kariri all this time. No matter how loud you shout, it doesn't reach everyone.
Yoon Seol fumbled for her phone and pulled up her DMs, shoving it in my face. Tens of thousands unread. She highlighted one.
"Telling me I'm ugly... to go die... Messages like this flood in from all over the world, hundreds, thousands a day... I know I'm shorter and uglier than Cha or you. I thought I had my own charm. But getting these nonstop... it makes me feel like..."
Tears streamed down her face again.
"...like even I think I'm a terrible person..."
Every one deepened her self-loathing and depression.
* * *
Just as I'd shared my path with her, Yoon Seol told me why she started as a vtuber. Four years ago, the reason she quit trainee life. Her agency claimed they didn't even give her time to practice dancing or singing.
"It was brutal back then. There was an idol group above us, you know? They were swamped with schedules, so we trainees got dragged to investor meetings instead...? Anyway, strangers would demand we dance on the spot. No practice time—how? We bombed every time... Got reamed by the CEO and manager. I hated it, so I left."
Kariri's success was pure luck, she explained. A chance guest spot on a famous streamer's broadcast revealed her gender and skyrocketed her popularity. Then her un-girly, un-age-appropriate antics spawned endless clips among fans. Meeting celeb gamer Kim Woo-ju online by fluke, collabing with him, and watching followers explode.
"I wanna do it all well too. Play games like you, Nami... talk smooth like Yong-cheol... I wanna be good at everything... but I'm not good at anything."
"But you sing great, sis."
"Hic... then I'd be a singer...!"
The lament of someone with middling talents. Yoon Seol confessed she'd tried everything to keep Kariri's popularity afloat and hold viewers. Early on, she typed out Adella's lines to mimic her speech, memorizing like scripts. Did a no-sleep challenge for 40 hours straight, collapsing and needing an IV. High blood pressure from sleep deprivation was heartbreaking to hear.
Especially, her lack of gaming talent stressed her most.
"Ho... honestly, I still don't get it. Why people watch me, why they laugh. Is it really fun, or do they fake it 'cause a few do and others follow? Communities say I just whine on stream, no effort, rude... and yeah, it all rings true..."
"Stop."
"..."
"Honestly, sis, don't you feel how inconsistent that sounds?"
Her words dripped negativity. But picking them apart, she deserved success. Objectively countering her here wouldn't help; she'd just invent new reasons and spiral again.
"Yoon Seol sis. Can I borrow your hand a sec?"
"Uh... sure...?"
I guided her hand to my solar plexus. Inside my clothes. Her icy fingers—maybe poor circulation—pressed cold against my skin. I winced reflexively, but adjusted quick.
"Hey... what're you...!"
"Just checking— you're not the type who gets turned on by kids, right?"
"Of course not! What do you take me for...!"
"Good enough."
I closed my eyes and slowly drew up my aura. Channeling mana to the dip in my sternum, converting it to aura. Both are probabilistic overlays, but aura's mysteries remain largely unknown. Robots need complex controls to climb stairs or jump; humans just will it from the brain. So mastering aura's uses meant empirical trial-and-error. Some tribes predict weather perfectly with it—endless possibilities.
"Nami, your eyes... they're turning gold."
"You could do it too if you knew how, sis. Aura can be used like this."
"That time you healed me... that was...?"
"Yeah, sorta aura too."
I'd used aura, not mana, for her burn. Downside: too much foreign aura and you crash hard.
"I think your heart's sick right now. Or more precisely, your brain's neurotransmitter system is off. But it's not 'cause you did anything wrong."
Depression isn't just sadness, despite the name. Platitudes like "It'll pass" or "You'll be fine" can backfire. It's more emptiness, apathy. Too complex for many to pinpoint. Faulty neurotransmitters weaken signals, breeding chaos.
"Yoon Seol sis, what're you feeling now?"
Yellow mist bloomed softly. Brightest where her hand met my core. Proximity to another's Aura Heart lets aura resonate, sharing emotions. Buoyed by booze, I recalled my happiest time: a picnic on the hill behind the Ebonne Palace. Never forgetting meant reliving those feelings intact.
"Uh... how to describe... something warm and swelling up. And cozy."
Her breaths quickened, but the heaviness lifted. Anticipation, joy echoed back to me.
"Feels good, right? I'm passing my emotions straight to you."
"Yeah... it's nice. Hehe, but Nami, your tummy's so squishy."
"Eek! No petting—focus on the feelings...!"
Suddenly her fingers wriggled inside my shirt. Petting turned to kneading my belly outright.
"Hah, too cute! Tickles!"
"Eep...!"
I yanked her hand out fast. She pouted, crestfallen. What's with her suddenly? No choice—chicken over pheasant—I channeled remaining aura through my pajamas. Less efficient, but I deserved basic boundaries.
"I fell for you singing in front of everyone that time. Like you said. I think Kariri's got charm."
"Really...?"
"Surprisingly, people don't warm to perfection. They like folks like you—clumsy but persistent. And you're fun to tease."
Her viewers neither idolized nor looked down on Kariri. Eye-level equals. She probably couldn't grasp how rare that was.
"Anyway, whenever you're down or depressed, grab my hand—I'll listen. Belly rubs... might be pushing it, but regular aura therapy like today should help, right?"
Physical recovery and emotional resonance go hand-in-hand. Pills alone or talk alone won't cut it.
"Can keep touching like today?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Woo-hoo...!"
She thrust her arms skyward. I endured. She was barely an adult, still a kid.
"Sigh... but can I stream again...?"
Yoon Seol smiled bitterly. Thinking of streams amid this? True pro.
"Just take a break. When's the last time?"
"Hmm... last year? No, year before? Can't remember."
"What...? You mean no days off?"
"Eh, pretty much."
"Possible? When sick? Outings? Emergencies?"
"Gotta. Kingdom falls if the king skips a day. Oh, Cha and your funerals... wait, I streamed those days too..."
They say one kick practiced ten thousand times beats ten thousand kicks once.
"Changed my mind. You'd succeed at any stream."
Her slightly glazed eyes almost gleamed manic.
"How are you so mature, Nami? More amazing every second."
"If you're saying that, at least match words to actions. Who pinches an adult's cheeks?"
"Hehe. You said anytime."
"Don't twist my words!"
"I'll hear what I wanna! Aw, sober already? Missed chance to beg for more cuteness."
"Never drunk."
"Heh... didn't sound like it. Fine! Oh... selfie to commemorate?"
Lying side-by-side, she whipped out her phone.
"Drunk seven-year-old and eighteen-year-old super cuties combo! Super rare!"
"Sigh... do what you want."
"Huh, what's this?"
Mid-burst shots, her eyes flicked to a notification.
"7-Year-Old Genius Girl Solves the Seven Riddles..."
"Hey Nami, isn't this you getting exposed?"
"What?"
Already? This is bad...