A Dawn That Feels Endless
January 31st marked my second attempt at a twenty-four-hour all-night stream.
This time, to shut down any bad actors like the vice president before they could start anything, I posted a clear schedule well in advance and stuck to it. A short broadcast in the morning, a proper rest, then back on air in the late afternoon. From that point on, the twenty-four-hour marathon began.
Everyone had gone home, leaving me alone in the lonely landscape of Sky Island.
Before she left, Subnitti said she wanted to do a drinking mukbang for the first time in a while, so I told her to go ahead. It was the day she'd become a Best Streamer — of course she'd want to celebrate with her regulars.
The moment Miho overheard that and started practically drooling, I let out a roar of "Out!" and banished the temptation on the spot. The head of the company was in the middle of a twenty-four-hour all-night stream, and they wanted to sit around drinking and carousing? Not while I still drew breath. If they felt so wronged about it, they already had their Best Streamer badges — they could go earn Partner Streamer badges too.
Honestly, these viewers treated streamers like some kind of magic club — hit it and something new pops out every time. The way they demanded fresh content for every single broadcast said it all.
Unfortunately, my plan for tonight was quiet mining and a long, unhurried hangout with chat. Soft music in the background, the works. Late-night streams just suited that kind of mellow atmosphere.
I did brainstorm a few content ideas, but I dropped them pretty fast. Whatever I threw out today, it wasn't going to trend.
About an hour earlier, Mu-yang Group had kicked off the Munastris architecture funding drive. Park Bong-sik's stream was sucking in attention from Pangea TV and the communities alike like a black hole. A day like this was a natural disaster — charging in with half-baked content was the equivalent of charging a tank with a bamboo spear. Saving the good material was the smart call.
And on a day like this, viewers honestly want to watch Mu-yang Group's stream anyway. Content that hits the dopamine the way a rivalry mission does is rare.
A chill mining-and-chat stream would let the casuals multi-view without pressure, hopping between Park Bong-sik's broadcast and mine. Today's content choice had been carefully considered from every angle.
What, so I should've just done the twenty-four-hour stream on a different day? Sadly, February's schedule was too stacked to keep pushing it back. Mythic-grade gear, the Arena, the Sky Island completion festival, the farm-and-cooking price patch — those were just the major broadcast events I could name off the top of my head. And February might be even busier in real life. I'd be liquidating my Pangea TV stock, and with the price set to keep falling for a while, the real question wasn't reinvestment so much as what to do with the cash. High on that list of options: moving.
Has Lucy given it any thought?
Let me state this clearly up front: I harbor absolutely no impure intentions toward Lucy. That said, a certain baseline human curiosity is only natural. For instance — what expression does she make when she's asleep? When she bathes, does she wash her upper body first or her lower body? What does she wear around the house, and what's her lifestyle like?
What's with those filthy looks?
Excuse me!? Are you trying to smear my pure fan devotion?
I ignored the trolls with effort and focused on mining.
Just for today, I made a special exception and allowed the cuckooing. Viewers deserved to enjoy their dopamine freely. Honestly, I was glued to it myself. As a four-year streaming veteran, how was I supposed to sit still through a funding drive past a million Candy — the symbolic "hundred million won" mark? I had to at least watch the play-by-play.
I was passing the time with soft music and mining when the chat window suddenly erupted. I couldn't help but wonder. It was late; plenty of people had the stream on while they slept, and aside from the funding relay the mood had been almost dead quiet. So what on earth had happened?
"Huh? Guys, what on earth are you talking abou—"
At first I figured it was just bored late-night chat fishing for attention. But the content and the volume of it were too much to dismiss. Similar messages kept stacking up. In the end I had no choice but to open the Pangea TV homepage and search for Subnitti's stream.
What kind of disaster did she cause? Come to think of it, she did say she was going off to do a drinking mukbang earlier.
As I connected to Subnitti's broadcast, every alcohol-related incident and accident imaginable flashed through my head. A bad feeling. I swallowed dryly without meaning to and focused on her stream.
"Kkeooooong!"
"……?"
What was that sound?
The broadcast screen was extremely dark. On the left sat what looked like photos of side dishes and beer that Subnitti had put up; in the right corner, her avatar sat completely still, frozen in place.
"Kkeoooooo."
"No, seriously, what is this sound I've been hearing."
Was something wrong with the audio equipment? Already dealing with a serious situation, I frowned at the thought that her gear might have failed on top of everything else.
Then Subnitti's chat window came into view.
"Huh?"
So this wasn't my audio at all — it was snoring?
I couldn't hide my disbelief. Four years as a streaming viewer, and I had never once encountered a virtual streamer who snored this loudly in her sleep. I hadn't even heard of a virtual streamer falling asleep on stream and snoring into the mic in the first place.
"……."
Even in a situation like this, my brain was already running the numbers. First: risk analysis.
If there was a silver lining, it was Subnitti's broadcast style — the easygoing female-friend vibe. She wasn't usually this far gone, but she did show a slightly unhinged side on the regular. Her hardcore fans weren't going to abandon her over this. And the casual chat reaction was more positive than expected. Probably because of her existing image.
We usually called her Manager Sub or Deputy Sub, but outside the company she went by the nickname Madam Sub. She was a bit older, and her spicy talk plus that freewheeling energy were part of the appeal. So even snoring like a man somehow registered as more of the same brand.
If a cute, pure-image virtual streamer had snored like this, the total clash of image would have set the internet on fire — but Subnitti? Not really…
Once I judged it wouldn't be a real problem, I finally let out a breath of relief. Something going wrong with precious labor power — I mean, a company employee — would have been a disaster. From now on, drinking mukbangs were going to need closer supervision. This time it was snoring; next time it could be something else entirely.
"Ahem. You all entertain yourselves for a bit. I need to go wake Manager Sub up."
I ignored the chat fabricating slander about me and called Subnitti on voice chat. She was so deeply under that the call dropped twice without an answer, but on the third stubborn attempt it finally connected.
"Hrrk. Uweh~ What is it."
"Subni unnie, the stream! Your stream is still on. You fell asleep with the broadcast running."
"Uwek!?"
Subnitti jolted awake and started thrashing around. Her virtual avatar, which had been frozen like a corpse, lurched back into motion. Moments later, her stream cut off. A string of mischievous chats scrolled by, mourning that they wanted to hear more snoring.
"D-did I mess up bad?"
"Nothing catastrophic for now. You'll just have to take some ribbing on stream for a while. Check the hot posts on FM Community. I've got a twenty-four-hour all-night stream to run, so I'm out."
It wasn't some massive disaster — this much karma she could handle herself. I hung up without a shred of lingering attachment and returned to my broadcast.
Something told me this dawn was going to feel very, very long.