Betrayal of Trust

"Homework" was a sacred act that must never fall behind.

Did you know what complaint post showed up most often on Pan-beo-gal before my regression?

It was the furious denunciations of virtual streamers who let their "homework" pile up.

And the comments on those posts were always a united front. One hundred percent the streamer's fault. Controversies over streaming attitude or direction might split the comment section, but when it came to homework, there was zero room for compromise.

And the reason was painfully obvious. "Homework" wasn't free-to-watch freeloaders grumbling that they didn't like a stream. It was paying customers receiving the "product" they had purchased with actual money.

Honestly, not doing your homework—or dragging it out forever—was close enough to fraud that you could call it that. The only reason people put up with it was because of the streamer–fan relationship.

Looking at stuff like that, you really felt how many streamers had zero professional conscience. Like their whole mindset was that as long as the live broadcast went well, nothing else mattered. When after-sales service was the most important part.

It was a simple logic anyone could grasp if they thought about it for two seconds. When you buy something, do you become a regular at a place with terrible service? Even if it has some other redeeming quality and you visit a few times, your willingness to buy again will naturally drop.

It's just them driving off their own loyal fans. Anyone who spends real money and even spins the roulette is a fan who actually cares.

There was always a reason no-name and one-hit-wonder streamers crashed and burned. As a four-year community addict, I had felt that truth in my bones.

So what?

Today I was going to do a homework stream, pure and simple. Interviews and whatever else could wait—the real fans came first.

Today's stream, as always, opened with the viewers' nonsense.

Honestly, I had my doubts about the way virtuals only ever handled homework off-stream. Did they really have no "instinct" for this? This was such good content material, and I'd never seen anyone try it. Or maybe it was a trade secret—like tourist-trap restaurants that hide their cost of goods and sell everything at a markup.

Hop into VRC, click-click for a few minutes, touch it up a little in an editing program, and boom—bang-sel complete?! Wait, it took less than twenty minutes and this thing goes for about a thousand Candy a piece? And if you mass-produce, it saves even more time? Insane business model.

Viewers must never, ever find out how much of a goldmine bang-sel sales are!

Surely they weren't doing everything off-stream just to keep that secret, right? Ahem. For the sake of my fellow professionals, I would keep my mouth shut.

Anyway, as far as I was concerned, a homework stream was excellent content. You could satisfy the curiosity of viewers who'd always wondered about the homework process, and at the same time have a genuine, unhurried conversation with the real fans who'd spun the roulette for you. If I put in that extra care, the fans who'd spun would give five stars on the satisfaction survey, and the ones who hadn't bought yet would get envious and decide they had to spin next time.

"Everyone, Seo-ha Seo-ha! My schedule's been so packed lately I feel like I'm dying. But homework is a promise to my viewers, so I could never forget it! Let's give it everything we've got."

I casually flashed a little "responsible streamer" energy and logged straight into VRC.

Today's homework: N, SR, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠SSR-grade bang-sel shoots, plus ten-second voice recordings of whatever the winners wanted. For smooth progress, I'd called in a helper in advance.

"Hello, Seo-a-nim. How have you been?"

It was Tong-dari-chicken, the guy who'd been helping me with VRC work ever since the Wooga-dol audition. Lately I'd been so focused on Minecraft that we hadn't had much reason to talk.

We exchanged a brief greeting and got straight to business.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand won!"

"Three hundred thousand!"

We clashed fiercely over the fee for today's work. Labor costs were a serious matter. He was going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to help with shooting and editing, so it ran a bit expensive. Still, considering the two hundred twenty thousand Candy I'd pulled from the roulette, this was pocket change.

The V-dookie fans, for whom guy-hatred was a passive skill, started murmuring. Sure, broke no-name virtuals with no connections did everything as cottage industry by hand. But did you really have to?

Alright. Today we were going spicy with the talk.

"Guys, I get the feeling, okay? But ninety percent of the 19+ erotica, 19+ comics, and 19+ videos you all love so much? Those pass through a guy's hands. The director's a guy, the editor's a guy, the distributor's a guy…"

"In the end, you leave it to people who are good at it if you want a quality product. Compare my bang-sel from last time to other virtual streamers'. Yeah? Totally different, right?"

"Caught you, you little rat! Wandering room to room spending money on other girls, huh?"

"I think you all keep misunderstanding something. I participate one hundred percent in the whole process, okay? I find the maps and outfits myself, I rush-commission the artist, I write every message that goes into the bang-sel myself. It's just that framing the shots and the editing—when a pro does those, the quality is clearly better, so I get help with that. And I'm even spending my own money on this so I can deliver even prettier, cooler bang-sel, so all you haters can go dig-eu-chi-eut!"

Sincerity always got through. Once I explained it slowly and clearly so everyone could understand, the haters were wiped out soon enough.

"Alright. Let's get started. Seo-a-nim, I think that bench over there would be good for the first one. Could you sit at an angle for me?"

We started with the N-grade bang-sel. Unfortunately, N-grade bang-sel came with no freedom of hairstyle, outfit, or location. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You took what you were given, period. But wasn't I running this homework stream specifically to win back goodwill right now?

I flipped through the list of fans due to receive N-grade bang-sel, found the ones currently watching the stream, and decided to offer them a special perk. Namely—

"What pose would you like? I'll give you special service this time."

I trusted my fans. I had extended a hand in good faith first, so they would answer that expectation in kind.

"……."

That trust was thoroughly betrayed.