My Monumental First Hiatus
Today marked my monumental first hiatus—a true milestone in streaming history.
I hadn't particularly wanted the day off, but Vice President Cha had once again submitted a fervent petition, leaving me no choice.
"We need to fan those flames from the chairman's bombshell yesterday even hotter."
"Hotter?"
I glanced at the community site. It already looked plenty ablaze to me. Fanning it further? Looked like my VP was channeling the Great Fire of Rome, itching to play Nero.
"Yes. Truth is, the issue hasn't quite hit boiling point yet—it's hovering around 99 degrees. Wait just a bit longer, and when it reaches 100, jump in and flip on the stream. That's how you'll ride that boiling pressure straight to the top in a flash. Trust me, Chairman!"
"Alright, I'll trust you."
And so, today became a forced hiatus day.
[Today is a hiatus day.]
Because Zero Popsi Lime tastes so damn good.
I personally posted the hiatus notice on the Pachichik streamer board. No matter how much I delegated other tasks, this one I wanted to handle myself. Once uploaded, I powered off my smartphone.
Then I pulled out my personal phone.
A product from America's top dog, Apple Inc. Come to think of it, the APK I'd royally screwed over was Apple's pro team subsidiary, right?
So I'd given Apple both the poison and the cure?
As that thought crossed my mind, the phone rang.
"Yeah, Miley. Heading down now."
I threw on a hoodie and jeans at random.
As I dressed, a faint fatigue settled in. Lately, it'd just been office-home loops, so my activity levels had tanked, dragging my stamina down.
True, I hadn't worked out since returning here.
Wasn't there a gym downstairs in the apartment?
Starting tomorrow, I'd hit the treadmill moderately.
VR stamina didn't hugely impact real-world endurance, but it did affect how long I could stay plugged into the virtual machine, so it mattered a bit.
I jotted "Hit the gym for a workout" on my mental notepad and sauntered out leisurely.
My first outing in ages.
Even back in that other world, I'd always been the type to hole up indoors to some degree.
Maybe it stemmed from freeloading off national welfare, leeching off the state—that NEET habit clinging like glue.
Whatever the case, my range rarely strayed far without good reason. Sure, Earth's cars expanded it a touch, but still.
And Seoul's Myeongdong teetered right on the edge of my limit. Without a car, no way in hell I'd drag myself here willingly.
Oh, that US prize money trip? Different dimension altogether.
Anyway, the reason for coming here was obvious.
"Master, you need to buy some clothes. Your wardrobe is pathetically sparse."
Miley had called out my outfits.
She stood with hands on hips, eyeing me like a mom who'd caught her slob kid skipping room cleanup.
"That hoodie too. How many days straight have you worn the same one?"
"Huh? One."
"...No way. My memory says it's the exact same outfit every day."
"'Cause I bought 31 identical ones?"
I lifted my left arm, showing the side seam of the hoodie. There, overlocked in stitching: 14. Today's date.
"This is the day-14 hoodie."
"...Don't tell me you bought 31 pairs of jeans too?"
"Obviously?"
Jeans came in 31 pairs too, naturally. I could wash and reuse a few, sure—but who had time for that hassle? Didn't even know the difference between detergents and softeners.
Trimage's laundry service worked fine, but applying every time? Tedious. So, 31 each it was.
"This way, just twice-monthly service. They've got auto systems, right?"
"...And that 'auto system' is you telling me to submit laundry requests on the 7th and 21st every month?"
I nodded.
Her poker face cracked ever so slightly. She chewed her lip a moment, then shook her head. A fond smile bloomed anew.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"Clothes shopping."
Yeah. That's how I got dragged here.
To Myeongdong, no less.
"Too many people."
I muttered, face twisting in dismay.
Myeongdong was packed. Population density crushed the space—insane. Back in the other world, one "Scatter!" from me and this mob would've scampered into rat holes, trembling.
"Wanna yell 'Scatter!'"
"Just bear with it a little, Master."
"If we're shopping, why not head straight to a department store? Why stroll the streets?"
Miley went quiet. What?
Meanwhile, the crowds thickened.
"Yo, check that out."
"Whoa, fuck... paradise, real paradise."
"Some celebs?"
"Maybe YouTubers."
"Damn, face smaller than my palm. Too gorgeous."
"The short one's cute af too."
No, even denser now. Blame Miley's killer looks—they were magnets, pulling stares like crazy.
After trudging forever, we arrived.
"Tanghulu...?"
I side-eyed Miley.
"Why the hell here?"
She flashed an awkward look—embarrassed, maybe nostalgic, lost in distant memories.
She hesitated, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, draping it over a cheap plastic stool by the street stall. Gestured for me to sit. No clue what was up, but I sat.
"Two green grape tanghulu, please."
"Foreigner speaks Korean well. From Seoul?"
"Nah. Card okay?"
"Cash only."
She bought two green grape tanghulu and handed me one. Still baffled, I took it.
What was this? Some meaning?
Then it hit.
"Do you remember, Proxy? When we set out to slay the first evil god."
The otherworld tongue after so long—I looked up.
Miley murmured, eyes distant with reminiscence.
"I think that was the hardest trial of my life. To be honest, I resented the Lord God then. I was sure I'd die there."
I watched her silently.
"You made this food from our scant rations and promised: you'd save us all and send us home. Not to trust the Lord God, but you. And you kept that promise."
She turned, meeting my gaze.
Grinned brightly.
"This place sells the food closest in taste to what we ate then. Took ages after coming to Korea, but I finally found it."
Now it clicked—why she'd insisted on walking Myeongdong. For this tanghulu.
To share the taste from our darkest days, the one etched deepest in memory.
I smirked and popped one in my mouth.
Crispy crunch, sugar rush.
"Hm. Kinda similar?"
"Very. No—identical."
Ah, got it. Same taste.
But Miley...
What I made back then wasn't tanghulu...
Pretty sure it was something else. Why'd her memory twist it into this? Unfathomable, but whatever. When had I ever truly understood her?
I shrugged and crunched away.
Surprisingly decent.