Even at Two Hundred Thousand, the Beginner's Heart Stays

I never imagined it would turn out like this.

Then again, a room is a place crammed with every private thing a person owns. Putting a lump of privacy like that on display for a faceless crowd takes a staggering amount of courage.

Even I—someone who had already shown that same faceless crowd my face—felt the faintest flicker of hesitation when it came time to reveal my room. So how much more would ordinary viewers hesitate, the ones still hiding behind the mask of anonymity?

Which was why I had figured the contest would draw somewhere around a hundred entries, give or take.

Honestly, even that was a generous count, once I factored in the variable known as fried chicken. No chicken? Would we have scraped together fifty? And the deadline, if I was being kind, was barely two days.

Yeah. That was what I had thought.

Reality, however, was cruel.

Sunday, 10:30 a.m. Märchen's NewTube channel hits two hundred thousand subscribers. At the same moment, applications close for the Märchen Cup Viewer Room Tour Contest.

And the number of people who had entered—

"Three hundred and seventeen…."

…Hadn't it been 272 just thirty minutes ago, when I turned the stream on? How had forty-five more people piled in over half an hour?

I closed my eyes and opened them again. Cruel reality did not so much as blink.

…That had been close.

If I had fattened the prize pool any further and left the deadline any looser, it would have been truly, truly dangerous…!!

I let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.

Three hundred and seventeen was still a lot, but… yesterday, watching how fast the entry posts were going up, I had been seriously debating whether to fire an SOS at my manager if the two-hundred-thousand mark came late, or just slam the submissions shut early. Set against that—

Yeah. Three hundred and seventeen entrants was something to be grateful for.

I bobbed my head a couple of times, then lifted my voice a notch higher than usual.

"…Two hundred thousand subscribers! Thank you, truly!"

And with that, I unleashed Märchen's secret technique: the Grandzel.

Only, of course, after I had yanked the hem of my T-shirt down and knotted it tight so the whole thing wouldn't ride up.

The instant I struck the Grandzel, donations came surging in like a tide.

I dropped the pose at once, bowed my head, and kept the thank-yous coming without a pause.

…So this is it. I'm a two-hundred-thousand-subscriber NewTuber. It feels strangely new.

"Now, when I go to a PC bang, pull up Märchen's NewTube, and step away from the seat, the people around me can go, wait, wait, that person was a NewTuber with two hundred thousand subscribers?! Why was someone that impressive just sitting there without a word? And then a pretty girl who looks like Tomoe can blush a little and hand over her number. The staging is finally possible!"

If that day ever came, I was absolutely going to hit them with "Hey. That's my seat." and "Photos are a little much." I sealed the vow with a sip of water.

Then, in a voice about as loud as the two-hundred-thousand thank-you, I called out:

"All right, let's get the main show rolling! We've got a long road ahead! Quick, quick, let's go!"

With that, I clicked the first post.

The monumental entry of our very first participant was, at last…?!

Two hours into judging.

People fully scored: past fifty.

…I really had been flying through them, and I was only at fifty.

My stomach was starting to send up signals that it would like some food. Just this one, and then… no. One more after this one, and then I would put in a delivery order.

"You can really tell this round's entrants put in the work. I happen to own both a film camera and a digital camera, so I've got something of an eye for photos, you know? I can feel them hunting for the angle that would come out best."

As I said it, I slapped a gray-mustache image onto my upper lip for that analyst feel, then dropped a graduation cap onto my head.

Glasses would have completed the look, but… I could live without the glasses, right?

"Photo skill isn't part of the scoring criteria, so there are no bonus points, all right? Instead, I'll award you points from the favor in my heart. Earning the favor of Märchen, a two-hundred-thousand-subscriber NewTuber—that is not an easy thing, so be proud of it. Brag about it wherever you like."

Then I logged the entrant's score in the spreadsheet parked in one corner of the screen.

Otaku appeal: not nearly enough merch, so ten points. Aesthetic sense: the room was tidy, at least, so seventeen. Storytelling: plenty of photos and plenty of explanation, so twenty. And fun… there wasn't really anything fun to latch onto, so about ten?

Fifty-seven out of a hundred. Even with relative grading, that was not a score you aimed at the top three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with.

Still, she had cleared the halfway mark, so chicken was maybe within reach… maybe?

"Next!"

The next entrant's room was—

Eunha.

We were past three hundred entrants….

We did not need volunteers here….

The road ahead was already long, and here was Eunha, personally setting it on fire with passion and making it longer. I closed my eyes, opened them, and checked the scrollbar.

…The scrollbar was tiny. I could scroll and scroll and it felt like there would be no end.

Worse, the line about this not being a contest entry was deeply ominous. There was a real chance she had simply stopped caring about the photo limit. Words like those came loaded with exactly that possibility.

…No, right? She kept it to ten photos, right? I was borrowing trouble, right?

"…Since it isn't a contest entry, should I just skip it?"

Eunha herself would have told me it was fine to skip… but even if Eunha said she was fine, the mood in chat said the viewers were about to riot and insist they were not fine at all.

"…All right. You probably wanted to do a viewer-participation bit for the first time in a while, too."

I said it while working my empathy as hard as it would go, and resettled my hand on the mouse.

The truth was, I was a little curious. It had been quite a while since I had been to Eunha's place. How much could it have changed in the meantime?

…Yeryeong didn't post one of these too, did she?

Yeryeong, I'm trusting you?!!

And so the tour of Eunha's room began. If I had to name the single biggest change—

"There are a lot of Nesoberi."

Yeah. The rise of the Nesoberi plushies was the one I would have to pick.

Last time I visited, there had still been a respectable number of animal stuffed animals….

In the end, the animal-plush friends had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠failed to hold the line against the Nesoberi invasion.

Nothing to be done. Visual unity is essential to how a room looks. One of the two camps was always destined to be driven out. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just happened to be the animal plushies.

I felt a little sorry for them. I was the very person who had aided the invasion, by giving Eunha Nesoberi as gifts.

I offered a silent apology to the animal-plush friends, exiled from their home.

…But now that I thought about it, not even half of the Nesoberi on display were ones I had bought her. So my share of the blame wasn't even half, was it?

Animal-plush friends! I am only half sorry! Collect the other half of the apology from Eunha! It isn't my fault!

Anyway. Set that tragic behind-the-scenes aside, look at Eunha's room as objectively as I could, and sum it up in a single line….

A quiet cuteness, seeping into a clean and orderly scene.

It was a room that could only have been Eunha's: she never let it show, and yet she quietly liked cute things.

And from the look of chat, the viewers agreed: Eunha's room was extremely well put together. …What a shame. I should have saved this for last. Then it would have landed like a highlight and like an ending.

I clicked my tongue before I could stop myself and sent the scroll downward again.

"She's still keeping the autograph she got the first time we met, too…."

Then the scroll stopped. I clapped once, the sound full of the pleasure of recognition.

"Right, I was wondering why this wasn't here!"

What had halted the scrollbar was a dakimakura under a blanket, only its face peeking out. The very dakimakura that had once occupied a corner of my own bed.

Seeing it after so long, it was oddly good to run into.

"The bed?"

Unsure what they meant, I scrolled back up. And immediately smacked my own forehead with a sharp little thwack.

"Whoa…! I was so busy staring at the Nesoberi that I missed the blanket sticking up in a lump?!"

Hiding a piece of foreshadowing like that. If she had been an entrant, that would have been bonus points on the spot. A crying shame.

"All right, I don't think there are any other big pieces of foreshadowing, and I think I've seen everything there is to see, so…."

I said it while scrolling steadily downward.

And the scrollbar stopped once more.

What stopped it was———