How to Show Your Viewers True Sincerity

Two days had passed since that moment in the coastal cave — the moment I'd opened a mail of astonishing contents and learned a truth I had never known.

I seized an officially unscheduled stretch of free time and, without a single announcement, flipped the stream on cold.

It was the first casual chat stream in roughly a week since the last guerrilla broadcast.

No notice, no heads-up — just the stream slamming open. A pure ambush. This was guerrilla streaming.

The unsuspecting enemy never even had time to brace for a strike that hit them right in the blind spot. Heh. I couldn't help feeling a little pleased with myself.

Of course, early on there were a fair number of people grumbling about how inconsiderate it was to go live with zero warning…

But once I explained that guerrilla streams were just me wanting a short, pressure-free chat — and then made a point of never cutting into my regular broadcast hours — the complaints mostly died down. Viewers seemed to understand where I was coming from. It wasn't as if I was deleting the VODs, either.

Still, watching the viewer count swell in an instant the moment I went live — even though, by outside standards, this was somewhere between morning and lunch — left me with a strange feeling.

Hmm. Even in the twenty-second century, people still need jobs to eat, right? Do my viewers just… not go to work?

"Ah — I said that out loud. Uh, ahem!"

Crap. I'd gone and spoken something that should have stayed a thought.

That was a clear mistake. Even without knowing each other's faces, streamer and viewer were supposed to respect one another. Remarks that put down an unspecified crowd like that were better left unsaid.

Besides, even on a weekday there were people who worked nights, or who'd just gotten off shift — and it wasn't exactly strange that they existed.

In truth, my thought just now hadn't been meant as a dig at anyone for being unemployed. The eras were different; I'd simply been curious.

But fumbling through an excuse here would only make the picture worse. It was the kind of comment that could invite a little misunderstanding, sure — but I hadn't said anything outright discriminatory or hateful, either…

So I sat there for a moment, cold sweat running down my back, quietly sorting my thoughts — then calmly switched on the cam, beamed a bright smile at the viewers, and greeted them.

"Tada! Heaven above, earth below, peerless and alone — the strongest, most transcendent beautiful-girl virtual idol on the planet, Nia! Now appearing right here! Good afternoon, everyone~"

…Yeah. I'd walked straight into that one.

Of course, most of the people typing like that probably weren't entirely serious. I hadn't used any openly malicious phrasing, and regular viewers would shrug it off as just one of those things.

But that didn't make it a zero-fault, flawless remark, either. If someone watching my stream was currently job-hunting, those words could have stung even a little.

And when it came to framing someone, spinning a weak comment into rumor by padding it out was far more effective than inventing words that were never said. No matter how confident I felt, there was no need to hand the antis an opening.

So I glanced at the chat window — climbing like a stone heated white-hot — as casually as I could manage, finished my snap judgment, and slammed my forehead into the desk with a solid thunk.

Fortunately my forehead was considerably harder than any ordinary rock, so it didn't hurt — but given my appearance, the viewers would almost certainly have jumped a little.

Which meant this was the moment to strike. The best way to persuade people had always been to stir their emotions first, then drive the point home.

"I truly didn't mean it that way, but I made a remark that could sap the motivation of young people working hard to find jobs. I sincerely apologize! I'm so sorry!"

The response was instant. Most of the people in chat right now were the type who dropped into their seats within minutes of a stream notification popping up.

The ones who'd seen my forehead slam immediately stood down from combat readiness and started typing in their usual tone.

Almost all of them, I figured, hadn't been genuinely angry or disappointed — they'd just been spamming "EXPLAIN" and "HELL" the way you'd fire a water gun for fun. I knew it.

"I mean it. Like I said before, I don't really know how things work outside. I was just curious, with no deeper meaning… is all."

"Hey — no talking among yourselves, viewers. No fraternizing!"

I singled out the viewers chatting among themselves like they were doing a comedy bit and issued a first-level warning.

I didn't usually crack down hard on chat unless it was serious swearing or sexual content — but fraternizing was one of the things I clamped down on a little more firmly.

And the easiest way to prevent it was to stop viewers from talking to each other in the first place. If they really wanted to, they could take it to a community site.

Anyway, once I'd cleanly cut off their side conversation, the stream atmosphere settled back into the usual guerrilla-broadcast tension before I knew it.

Not the kind of energy for anything serious — just that gentle, easy chat-stream vibe of light conversation centered on me.

A calm so complete it was hard to believe the chat had been on fire mere moments ago.

Which meant I could be certain: the earlier chaos had just been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them wanting to tease me for a minor slip of the tongue…!

Well — once a stream truly went up in flames, everyone lost, not just me but the viewers who liked the stream, unless the remarks were genuinely severe.

So they'd piled on just enough to make me squirm and fidget, then backed off at the right moment — a little give-and-take, a little back-and-forth. Mean. Truly mean.

Early on, a lot of viewers had kept a certain distance… but ever since I'd started doing surprise streams and chatting more closely, things like this had started happening, too.

Huh. Wait a second…

In that instant, a rather good idea flashed through my mind.

Come to think of it, I needed to get closer to the salvagers if I wanted more information about the neural world. Couldn't I use this as the opening…?

"Ahem. But thinking about it again, the things I said earlier could have been somewhat stressful or hurtful from the listeners' point of view."

"Exactly! Words are like that — even if the person saying them thinks nothing of it, the person receiving them can't always brush it off the same way. BurstDumpling — that must have been hard. I sincerely apologize."

Perfect timing. I quickly scooped up the chat from the active job-seeker who'd said my words had stung a little, showed clear empathy for their opinion, and offered an apology.

At that, the people who'd been calling the unemployed pathetic or laughing at them quietly faded from view, and the overall mood in chat settled into something more sympathetic.

Well… I'd steered the atmosphere this way myself, but anyone who went against the grain now would be perfect target practice for a rock-throwing. For those people, keeping quiet was the smartest move.

…I wasn't sure what bad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thing I was supposed to have done.

Anyway, whatever it was, this was good. Having shaped the mood this naturally, there was no problem at all pulling out the content I'd planned earlier.

I casually pushed my chair back with the backs of my knees, stood up, squared my shoulders and straightened my back, and called out toward the camera with full confidence.

"So…. I'll show my sincerity here, too. As a cheer for every young person and every future office worker in this world…!"

I rolled just my eyes toward the chat window, where anticipation was steadily climbing, then grinned and continued.

"Viewer phone dates — shall we?"

And roughly two seconds after my words reached the viewers on the other side —

Chat exploded.