I'm Not a Deviant, I'm Perfectly Normal — And I'm Not a Furry, Okay?

Three full days had finally passed since the ban, and I fired up the stream in high spirits.

"I'm free! Raise a toast!!!"

A drinking stream, beer ready to go in the middle of the afternoon. I chugged from the can in my hand and got myself set to mass-produce screenshots.

Why start with a drinking stream, you ask?

Well.

Trying to run this stream sober felt like my sanity would check out first. So I borrowed the power of alcohol, fogged up my brain, and started the broadcast with a thick, slurred tongue.

"Hieee... sooo, what should we draw toooday? If you ask me to draw disgusting deviant crap like last tiiime... I'm outta here, whooosh!"

No matter how I looked at it, it was revolting. Drunk or not, here I was doing this cutesy act while hauling around a pair of super diaper rice cookers that could easily feed seventy babies. Self-loathing crawled up my throat and I was about to gag when the chat snapped at me to just draw already.

Vulgar little shits. Why the hell did they like furries so much? These were the kind of guys who'd bang a pet if you told them to.

"I'll draw, okay? Just don't ride me so hard. Honestly, without alcohol, I cannot survive this stream..."

One viewer's virgin comment set the entire chat off, splitting them into virgin vs. not-a-virgin factions, and I clutched the back of my throbbing neck and spoke in a soft, measured voice.

"I told you last time. Stop frotting your dicks against each other in chat. You guys only have a dagger to work with — why are you so desperate to rub them together?"

The moment I finished, the chat went dead silent, like a mouse had died in there.

Had I gone too far?

Then again, even talking that rough, I doubted any of them would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually leave.

Sure enough.

These deviant bastards had zero intention of leaving. If anything, they were cheerfully volleying my insults right back.

These cheerful little shits. Ordinary abuse really wasn't going to make them go, huh.

Maybe that was actually a good thing. Other tiny streamers tanked into the abyss over one wrong insult, but my stream was nothing but perverts who took every curse as a reward and went heuugh over it.

With that thought, I leaned into the mic and spoke slowly.

"Honestly, I'd like to draw some normal sexual stuff for once instead of deviant crap. You know, like a fox beastman with a fluffy tail and ears."

The Fox God was watching the stream from beside me, and the chat immediately took issue with what I'd said.

"No, aren't nekomimi and furries kind of different? It's like ninety percent human and only ten percent animal, right? The tail and ears are just charming points!"

"Can we not with that bullshit. I am a person who believes that ninety-two percent human mixed with eight percent animal is the absolute peak of hot. Fifty-fifty human-to-animal is a mental illness, you crazy bastards."

The chat kept lumping me in with that friend of mine, and it pissed me off enough that I even gave them the perfect ratio. The viewers declared me wrong and tore into me like a pack of enraged monkeys.

"What the fuck are you talking about, how would you know my body?"

"You need to get to a hospital, immediately. Can you even function in daily life?"

"You were wrong, asshole. I'm different from you deviant freaks. This is strictly normal sexuality."

I was getting hammered from every direction by donations and chat when I spotted a newbie entering my stream.

A newbie! A fresh spring to purify this filthy stagnant water!!!

Please, show me your power...!

I stared at the new arrival with hopeful eyes, but sadly, the new viewer wasn't normal either.

Son of a bitch.

A village lined with elegant traditional hanok houses.

Inside the most refined home in the village, a bald man and a woman in hanbok sat drinking tea and began to talk.

"...So what you're saying is, your friend became a yokai, and you want to protect him."

"Yeah. He became a yokai through no fault of his own destiny, so the least I can do is look out for him."

"And what if he eats you alive? Besides, we're short on Exorcists as it is. You know perfectly well what happens when the strongest Exorcist walks off the front line."

The woman set down her teacup and glared at him fiercely, but the man ignored her stare and savored the tea's aroma.

"This was settled from the moment we first made the contract, wasn't it? I'm fairly certain you guaranteed me my freedom back then. Does this make it a fraudulent contract?"

"I'm asking you, you bald bastard! You said he's a hikikomori, right? He'll manage just fine on his own! He's a yokai now — he doesn't need you anymore! He can go outside, get some damn sunlight!"

At her words, the bald man shook his head in denial.

"He can't go out even if he wants to. He became a gumiho with no Jeong-gi and no Yoreok, so he can't use Transformation Magic."

"...A gumiho? Those pretentious sons of bitches? If he has no Jeong-gi and no Yoreok, perfect — just kill him while you're at it."

"There's no reason to kill him, so why would I? Besides, he's my friend. My one and only friend."

The bald man drew up his energy and pressed down on the woman; she brushed it off with ease and spoke with a grave expression.

"And if he goes berserk? Don't you remember the yokai who'd been close with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠humans recently — the ones who went berserk and turned completely?"

"Then I keep him in check so he can't. And my friend isn't the type to lose his mind and go berserk."

Unless it was a lust-driven rampage to jump someone, maybe.

The man declared with absolute confidence that he could control a yokai, and the woman let out a long sigh and shook her head.

"Don't just assume that. When a high-ranking yokai like a gumiho starts running wild, an entire city gets leveled in an instant. No matter how strong you are, you cannot fully protect people under a yokai's rampage!"

"I don't care. As long as I can save my friend and my family, that's enough."

Stunned speechless by the man's outrageous answer, the woman condemned him in an icy voice.

"You selfish bastard."

"Sorry for being a selfish bastard. But haven't you received plenty of help from this bastard all this time? I stopped two out of three approaching apocalypses. I'd say I've done my part."

"...You really leave me with nothing to say back, you insufferable chrome-dome."

"This bald head came from stopping the second apocalypse, didn't it. And I heard you're developing a Hair Growth Potion — just when is that going to be finished?"

"It's not easy. Give me a little more time."

"I'll give you one more year. Make sure it's done within that."

The man tossed the words out casually, then checked his vibrating phone.

"The fuck?"

"What, did something happen?"

At the man's curse, the woman tilted her head in confusion, but he let out a heavy sigh and stood from his seat.

"...Something urgent seems to have come up. Let's end the conversation here."

"That friend of yours again?"

"No comment."

The man tossed a talisman into the air and vanished somewhere. Left alone in the room, the woman muttered,

"...Might as well finish the stream I was watching."

And quietly settled in to spectate someone drawing vulgar pictures.