Chapter 11. Viewers 452 [Suspension Period: 7 Days] Reason: Reviewing potential guidelines violation
[Suspension Period: 7 Days]
Reason: Reviewing potential guidelines violation
Even with the sudden warning slapping me in the face, I still had to eat to survive.
The convenience store where I went to grab my daily bread was the same as always. It hadn't been long since the suspension hit, and on that day, I picked up my usual necessities and stood at the checkout counter like nothing had happened.
The part-timer glanced at me once, then at my phone on the counter, and back to my face.
"Uh... Eunha?"
At that short call of my name, I reflexively swallowed. "Yeah?"
My startled reply slipped out. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He didn't say anything more, but that brief moment of recognition alone made something deep inside me stir faintly.
He recognized me.
That fact lingered longer than I expected. The sensation of being caught in someone's gaze clung to me like the afterecho of a broadcast that should have long faded, tormenting me with desire every single day.
Every time I finished masturbating, the system window popped up in front of me like it was mocking me.
"...So close."
I said that, but strangely, I didn't feel urgent. Since that day, my body had been getting used to this state little by little—ever so slightly.
Every morning when I woke up, some weird sub-quest would appear, and I'd quietly complete it and claim the reward. It wasn't anxiety so much as a habit to avoid a state I'd already experienced.
...How sweet life was, doing what others told me and getting rewards right away.
At night, I'd fiddle with my phone for no reason. Even without notifications, I'd turn on the screen just in case. And I'd always end up seeing the same things.
The clip of me pressing my arms together and smiling. Those few seconds that sent people into a frenzy. Someone had cut it short, and it was circulating everywhere—gaming streams, chit-chat broadcasts, even totally unrelated reaction channels.
My name kept rolling around in places where I wasn't even present. That fact gave me a strange sense of relief.
Even without streaming, without saying a word, people still remembered me. Maybe in a clearer form than I did myself.
At first, it was burdensome. Then unfamiliar. And after that, it became familiar.
During the break, I turned the screen on and off countless times without realizing it. My follower count had noticeably increased—not just a few per day, but filling up in the blink of an eye.
Communities were full of comments jumping out at me first. People were calling me back voluntarily, without anyone telling them to.
I want to do it.
Staring at the inactive broadcast button, reining myself in while one corner of my mind was already calculating. If I came back, how many would show? Who would come? How far could I go?
That brief moment at the convenience store when he recognized me kept coming back. Just because he knew who I was, without even talking much—the sensation that I had changed a little because of it.
I'm not alone anymore.
Sitting in front of a camera no one was watching, turning on the light, smiling, then turning it off again. That was how I waited for the suspension to end.
A few days later, on the day it lifted. I must have checked the date on my phone screen a hundred times. Time had passed more than enough without me counting manually.
I didn't make an announcement. No notifications, no teasers—just turned on the computer like always.
I flipped on the lights, sat in the chair, took a deep breath, and moved the mouse.
The screen flickered as the status indicator changed.
No chat yet. Viewers: 0. The number I'd once been so familiar with didn't last long anymore. Just a few seconds before "Eunha."