Aftermath
"Agh, my neck."
The August evening was dimming, the sunset's glow wrapping the balcony in a hazy embrace. A thin, delicate finger slipped through messy light-brown hair to carefully undo the choker-style blocker at her throat.
She rolled her eyes, scanning the wall until her gaze settled on the clock—roughly seven o'clock.
Time perception had gotten scrambled thanks to the virtual reality's three-times speed multiplier. Even though it was only her avatar who'd been speaking, she'd been lying on the sofa in the same position for about three hours, and her throat was parched.
She pressed the home bar button, pulled a cold bottle of water from inside, poured it into a cup, and Harmony drank it down in one long, refreshing swallow before sinking back onto the sofa.
She'd gotten quite a few messages.
A few streamers she was friendly with who had recommended Dark Zone to her, plus her editor.
The content visible through the screen was all pretty similar, but there was one person she needed to reply to first.
Her editor.
The content was…probably what she expected.
And this was actually true.
Unlike FPS players who could only look straight ahead, this VR game allowed viewers to see the user from multiple angles during streaming for the sake of varied cinematography. That meant the number of editing points the editor had to check had multiplied several times over.
Of course, the platform did have a built-in broadcast summary function… but still.
Her fingers stopped.
Should she tell him not to do it, or just silently send over five or six gift cards for caffeinated drinks?
Considering average view counts on Yourspace and all…there was no real need to push things at this point. But still, this was unprecedented in her streaming history—nothing like this had ever happened before.
Maybe it would be better to quickly release the first video and build anticipation for the rest.
Hey.
A smile drew itself to her lips without her meaning it. She knew she shouldn't think this way, but money really could make things happen that otherwise wouldn't.
What was left now…adjusting broadcast content, or whatever. With one problem settled, her mind felt so much lighter. Her stomach was even starting to growl quietly.
But then—
"Ah."
She'd slipped up.
Maybe because it had never happened to her before—she'd actually forgotten something so basic and fundamental.
It didn't take long for her to toss that aside and immediately open the platform's linked app.
Behind her editor's pointed remark—which felt like it should have been coming—
"Hmm?"
Just as he was about to log out after finishing his weapon maintenance and live-fire practice for the day, a single message appeared before his eyes.
Probably because it was in-game time, it had been sent roughly four hours later—and naturally, it was from Harmony, whom he'd just added as a friend for the first time today.
He adjusted his tail position, plopped down with a thump, and read through the content.
"…Right. There was this."
He exhaled slowly, then inhaled deeply.
The matter he hadn't thought about separately—or perhaps had been deliberately ignoring—had now arrived right in front of him.
He started typing a few words, then stopped, sinking into a swamp of thought.
If this had been back when he needed to protect his identity, he might have refused… but no, thinking about it, it wouldn't have been much different. In a city full of well-armed lunatics, crazies, people obsessed with killing, and people who killed for money, they were the only law and order there was.
Plus, he was physically and visually far too conspicuous, which was why even back then, the locals couldn't even disguise themselves without gear. That's why infiltration missions were usually wrapped up the same day.
…That was something the regional officer handled really well, actually.
He suddenly wondered what that person was doing now.
In the end, whether past or present, he was far too conspicuous to be called a special forces operative.
From that perspective, he wasn't sure there was really any reason for him to refuse here, but there were still a few things nagging at him.
"A streamer…"
That's how she'd introduced herself.
He still didn't know how large her broadcast was, or how many viewers had been watching him and her actions. He hadn't seen it yet, after all.
Thinking about it that way, maybe he should be more careful in his decision.
Thankfully, she hadn't forgotten to attach links to the sites she apparently ran.
Two sites appeared before his eyes. Inside the rather delicately decorated homepage, various videos were neatly organized and uploaded.
The view counts were…
No.
Did he really need to check this?
Of course, maybe he should be paying attention to details like this, but at the same time…he wondered if he was being too calculating. His actions lacked consistency.
If he was going to approach things this way, he should have thoroughly weighed the pros and cons from the moment she introduced herself as a streamer.
Of course, if he said that was a different matter from this, there was nothing to argue.
The V icon below the message turned blue. That meant the cat had also read the message he'd sent.
Multiple assumptions popped up at once, making his head spin. Unlike the past, where things could be easily judged by a binary of good and evil, the unknown territory he had to handle was gradually expanding.
Perhaps he was, in that way, adapting to this world once again.
The conclusion was short, and his action was swift.
As always, diving repeatedly into difficult and unfamiliar territory was his specialty.
It was meaningless to debate whether it was something he could handle. When had he ever judged everything before acting?
Accept or refuse.
That's how he made one decision.
…Is this person Victor Hugo?
Still, it was about four or five times longer than that person's.
Three dots.
The indicator that the other person was typing a message. After waiting for a brief moment, what appeared before his eyes was unmistakably a Korean standard phone number format.
In other words, he wasn't entirely sure—but this was her phone number.
…He couldn't be sure whether he was following a normal conversation procedure.
He was a little dazed, but that didn't make the phone number in his hand disappear.
But whatever happened, one thing remained unchanged: this was the first beginning to be built on top of his completely erased existing relationships.
Of course, there was something he was overlooking at this point.
He was the type who only paid attention to what he needed, and didn't really consider the aftermath.