Shampoo Hats, Forgotten Coins, and a Forbidden Diary
After returning home from the arcade with Mesugaki and Mitube streams under my belt, I slowly stripped off my grimy clothes and headed to the bathroom to wash up. It was barely big enough to qualify as a bathroom—the showerhead and toilet were practically kissing—so it was a magical space that turned into whatever you needed: toilet if you had to pee, shower if you wanted to clean up.
Shhhh... Hot water poured from the showerhead, filling the cramped bathroom (toilet optional) with thick white steam.
"Phew, nice and toasty~."
Most people shower with cool water in summer, but I've hated cold water since I was a kid. Even in the heat, I always went for scalding hot.
"Shampoo~ Shampoo~."
Before lathering up, I slipped on my shampoo cap. This thing's great—no soap in the eyes, and I can keep 'em open while washing. Total game-changer...
People say shampoo caps are just for kids, but that's bullshit. That prejudice needs to die. If something's useful, use it—skipping it out of pride is straight-up dumb.
Bubble bubble.
Foam built up on my head, cool and refreshing.
"Hmmm, hmmm...!"
Normally, I'd feel some creepy stare making my skin crawl, but not today. I rinsed the suds out leisurely, taking my time. I'd usually rush to save on water bills, but after that fat stack of cash from streaming, I deserved a little luxury.
I showered at least twice as long as usual before stepping out, letting my body cool slowly. Steam rose off my skin in wisps, but the stifling apartment made it feel more like sweat beading up again than actual cooling.
Vrrr~!
I plopped down in front of the fan, mouth wide open, wet hair flapping in the breeze as I gulped down the airflow to chill my overheated body.
"Awwwawawa~."
Yelling into a fan splits your voice into this weird mechanical warble—dunno why, but it's addictively fun. Even after my hair dried and started whipping around, I couldn't stop.
"Time to boot the PC first."
Click!
I mashed the power button with my index finger, then paced the room like a hyper puppy while it started up. The place was empty as hell, but plenty of space for my small frame to spin in circles.
"Hm? Score!"
Something sparkly caught my eye under the wardrobe—a pristine 500-won coin gleaming like it owned the place. No clue when I dropped it, but hey, past me's gift to present me. I crouched and snatched it up.
But apparently one coin wasn't enough—or maybe I was just greedy—I pressed my cheek to the floor, peering deeper underneath for more.
Hmm? What's that?
No more coins, sadly, but way in the back, shrouded in dust, was a rectangular notebook thing, lonely and forgotten. I stretched my arm as far as it could go, fingertips barely grazing it, and dragged it out inch by inch.
"What the heck?"
[Jaejun's Diary]
[DO NOT READ!]
Lol, 'do not read' means I have to, right?
It wasn't mine anyway—clearly the old Jaejun who used to own this body wrote it. Zero relation to me.
I flipped open the cover slowly.
Starting a diary today. If future me isn't a total slacker, I'll finish it, right? If not, I curse past me!
Ugh... even if it's from another world's me, that's kinda gross.
This world saw "her" as a girl, so I gritted my teeth and flipped the page.
Nothing major—just daily mundanities like what she did, who she ate with, what for meals. All bland, so I skimmed until something jumped out.
My arm that Mom hit while drunk yesterday is throbbing so bad. Hurts too much to even talk. It hurts...
Hurts? Wait, didn't she have no family?
When I first arrived, her phone had zero parent numbers or pics, so I'd assumed no parents. Learning they existed was a shock.
I turned the page to check more, but the daily entries skipped ahead fast—breaking her "every day" promise.
The wounds from Mom are starting to heal. But lately, she clutches Dad's photo—may he rest in peace—and sighs whenever she sees me. Something's off.
"Urk..."
No gross stuff, but imagining what came next hit like nausea, bile rising in my throat. No way a mom hits her own kid, I told myself, but the entries painted ugly pictures. I didn't wanna see more.
Should I even keep reading?
It felt like Pandora's box—fingers froze on the page.
"Ah, screw it~ I'll think about it later!"
Whatever happened to past me, I'm me now. No interest in that thief's history, no forgiveness for stealing my body. I shoved the notebook on a shelf and sank into my super-plush chair—comfier than my blanket—and stared at the monitor.
"Too early to stream, so internet surfing it is~."
Bored, I hit up my usual online communities. Not just screwing around—this was research for my streaming career, all about streamers in a gallery deep-related to me.
Views: 141 | Likes: 2
(Male handcam streamer.)
Honestly, Berin's the top dog for guy cams. No drama, great voice—perfect streamer material.
Views: 505 | Likes: 15
(Gif of a guy shaking his head laughing.)
A cutie like that does ASMR? But why no Mitube? She'd crush it.
Huh... super chill vibes.
Skimming posts, a Mitube mention jogged my memory. Oh yeah, I have an editor... Recruited her after first stream and never used her once. What an idiot—having a slave and not whipping 'em into shape? Huge L.
Mitube cash is sweet, they say. Time to put her to work?
No contact deets, so I messaged via Tteutwichi.
Sunset painted the room in autumn-leaf hues, soft pastels everywhere. A woman hunched over her desk, heavy breasts propped up like pillows, tapping away at her PC. Her shirt screamed "Oppai Dekai"—big tits in bold letters.
"Ha, fuck, when's he gonna stream?"
Burned by flaky male cams, she'd found her angel—Meki. That first stream, facecam on, smirking like he wanted to be crushed. She waited every day for him.
"Hm? Message?"
"Finally, contact time?"
Excitement surged. Voice chat. Maybe a meetup. Play it right, and I could eat her up.
Yang Eunje basked in fantasies, awaiting the call.
Ring ring ring... Ring... Click!
Her angel at last. My angel. My fucktoy. Fucked a million times in her head.
"Loud and clear, boss!"
For Yang Eunje, today was the best day ever.