Chapter 5

After ending the broadcast with 386 viewers, the room felt oppressively quiet. So quiet it was awkward. The chatter from the monitor, the chat pings, the sound effects—all gone. I was alone in the room.

I leaned back slowly, resting against the chair's backrest. Only then did I notice the sweat beading on my nape. And... the slight dampness along the edge of my underwear. The sensations from earlier still lingered deep in my skin.

"...What the hell is this..."

I muttered, but my head was spinning. 386 viewers. 17 clips. In previous streams, even 30 viewers had been a peak. "...What the actual fuck."

I placed my hands on my lap. They weren't shaking, but they felt strangely unfamiliar.

Just then, a quiet notification popped up on the screen.

...Right. I wasn't entirely alone. This thing was with me too.

"...Personal?"

My lips moved on their own. Name, face, attitude, speech... Realizing this wasn't some character I'd chosen but the result of the gacha made my fingertips tense.

'Is it going to change something?'

I glanced slowly at the clock. 00:12 AM. The second hand ticked once. Time had flown by strangely fast. I'd only turned the stream on and off twice today, but my body felt like I'd burned through an entire day.

"Ugh, shit..."

I noticed my leg had crossed unconsciously again and uncrossed it, feeling the lingering discomfort inside my underwear. It was sticky. I'd cleaned up roughly earlier, but...

"Haa..."

A short sigh escaped. I took off my hoodie and draped it over the chair. Just a single outfit, underwear I couldn't even wash after a short wear.

I staggered to the bathroom door and pushed it open. Cool air hit me first. Flicking on the light cast a long shadow across the white tiles. Under the cold fluorescent bulbs, my reflection stared back.

My face wasn't as flushed as before, but my eyes looked a bit dazed. The quiet version of me in the mirror felt even more alien.

"...Shouldn't have looked."

A mutter to no one. I twisted the shower handle, and after a brief pause, water filled the bathroom. Steam rose, slowly blurring the mirror image. That felt a little better.

Only as the water streamed down my shoulders did the tension ease. My rigid back began to relax bit by bit.

"Hoo..."

A short breath slipped out. It wasn't even hot water, but today every sensation was hypersensitive. As I washed, scenes from earlier kept flashing in my mind. The chat window, the notification sounds. And—the words desiring me.

It wasn't hate, but admitting I liked it felt too unjust. Amid the water noise, I could almost hear the donation chimes from before. Of course, it was just my imagination.

'...Did they really find that so entertaining?'

It had been a stream where I did nothing. No games, barely any talking, just a string of mistakes. And yet.

"...You're driving me insane."

The attention poured on me like rain hadn't fully washed away. I squeezed shampoo into my palm and bowed my head. As the foam rinsed down, my mind felt a little clearer.

I pumped body wash onto my loofah—squish—white bubbles swelled slowly. The scent hit first. The familiar soap smell I always used, but today it felt intensely strong.

Bringing the loofah to my shoulder, the moment the foam touched, a faint stimulation spread across my skin.

"...Ngh."

I'd never thought like this while washing before, but the contact itself felt vividly clear. I pressed the loofah again and moved it slowly down my arm. The rubbing sound mixed with dripping water. Squelch—it sounded louder than usual, so I loosened my grip. Annoyed, I turned up the water to drown it out.

Bubbles kept flowing down, the loofah slippery in my hand. The intervals between touches—press, release, press—felt drawn out.

"..."

Feeling my breath leak, I deliberately stepped closer to the spray. That way, any sounds I made would blend into the water.

But as suds trailed down my thigh, the slick sensation drew my eyes downward for a moment. I deliberately looked away. Wipe it clean. The sticky remnants from before, the twitching reactions.

My hand passed again. Faster this time on purpose. But—

"..."

A short ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hitch in my breath. Was it the water, the hand's warmth, or the unresolved sensations? One thing was clear: that motion brought back all those gazes from earlier.

"No, no..."

My heart raced for no reason. The stream was over. Screen off, everyone gone. Yet it felt like gazes lingered somewhere.

Steam beaded on the walls like dew. As water cascaded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over my shoulders, faint afterimages flickered beneath my skin.

"...Haa..."

An itch stirred below my chest. Sensations that should have faded stood out sharper in the water. My fingers rinsing the body wash trailed from nape to collarbone and down.

'This is still...'

My breath wouldn't settle. Amid the water roar, only my respiration rang hotter.

I rubbed my arms around my body, as if tidying up. Confirming. Then my fingertips brushed my lower belly, and my thigh muscles tensed involuntarily.

"Haaah..."

I clamped my mouth shut. Even that brief sound was an unfamiliar woman's voice. Echoing in the bathroom like something from porn.

My other hand slid along my waistline, down to the inner knee, then slowly back up. Just passing by, but the area below my navel rippled quietly. So sensitive that mere contact made my body twitch.

"...I'm going crazy."

I whispered, but even that felt feverish. Resisting, I pressed my palm lightly to my thigh. Deeper instincts tormented me, urging my hand inward.

"...Ngh, hnn—"

Foam-slick fingers slipped effortlessly into the slick heat inside. I leaned my forehead against the wall. Eyes closed, feeling something slowly soak deep within, I moved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just my fingers back and forth.

The hand over my mouth had shifted to brace against the wall. The cold tile pressed into my palm, sharp and vivid.

Breaths shortened, shoulders heaved.

"Ah, haa—ngh!"

It wasn't conscious. No decision, no resolve. Just swept along by the flow as water poured and I stood there.

"Ah... hng... "

The reaction flooding in was too fast, too deep. From my heart—no, deeper—something welled up. Once, twice—gush.

Not tears, but emotions surged full to bursting.

"Ah, no... not like this..."

Even those words drowned in the tickling bloom from my thighs. In the bathroom filled only with water sounds.

I curled slightly, back hunched in shame, yet couldn't stop—very faintly—

"Hnn...!"

Love juices too abundant to trail down my thighs splattered onto the floor.

"Haa...! Ah...!"

This reaction was mine alone, known only to me. Not a broadcast, not ordered by the system—just me as a person.

But chased by something, I skipped the afterglow and post-nut clarity, grabbing a towel to dry off immediately. Lingering heat in my fingertips. After soaking so long, some places still throbbed full.

As I exhaled awkwardly by the bathroom door, the translucent window reappeared.

...Fuck me.

Twice in one day. That number felt shamefully embarrassing.

I glanced once more at my hazy reflection in the steamed-up mirror beyond the door and averted my eyes from that face. Meanwhile, water dripped from my long hair onto the floor; I covered it with the towel and rubbed half-heartedly, too drained to dry fully. Wet strands tickled my nape—annoying. Before, my hair dried quick after a shower. Not anymore.

'Just crash.'

That was all now. I pulled on my sleep tracksuit, felt the unfamiliar damp hair against the pillow as I curled up.

Turning off the light plunged the room into silence. No one, no sounds. This room that had 386 people moments ago now held just me.

Eyes closed, but euphoria and emptiness mingled—I doubted I'd sleep. Yet after today's parade of the bizarre, like dreaming of that chat window's afterimage, I slowly drifted off.