Chapter 7. 0 Viewers

The cursor blinking smack in the center of the monitor—with 0 viewers—waited for me. A lock of hair slipped down inside my hood, and absentmindedly, I propped my chin on it.

I had no idea why I was staring so long at just a single nickname field. The random recommendations scrolled into view again. Hanabyeol, Soso, Blue, Eunha…

"…All kinda girly."

Cute nicknames like that might not suit the current me all that well, but going back to some meaningless ID from before? The situation had changed too much for that now.

I laid my fingers on the keyboard, then lifted them again.

'Whatever….'

I hit the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keys. One letter. Another. Eun… a brief pause, ha. I hovered the cursor over confirm.

Click.

"……"

It felt weird. Just swapping one name, and suddenly the channel on screen looked a little more… human. There was now a solid name under that gray silhouette.

A new input window popped up.

"Ah, this one's a bit tricky…"

I reached up absentmindedly to scratch my head but paused as my fingertips brushed soft strands of hair. …Hair's still damp.

I tilted my head back to shake the bangs off my forehead and stared for a moment at the laptop camera hooked up to the PC.

"Snapshot in this state okay…?"

No makeup, just hoodie and panties. But the me reflected on screen… actually looked pretty decent. Eyes a little bigger, skin super pale… surprisingly natural face, even.

"Yeah, nothing more I can do."

I hit the snapshot button.

Click, fake shutter sound.

And…

The gray silhouette swapped instantly to my face.

No one was even peeking through the camera, but I'd tensed up anyway—cold sweat beaded for no reason.

Next window up.

The cursor blinked again.

"Uh."

What to put? I tapped the keys a few times, stopped.

What even to write? 'Games and chit-chat… still awkward newbie.' Too obvious. Too vanilla. But anything flashy? Embarrassing.

"……."

I groaned it out for a bit, then typed something super short.

Quiet game ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠streams. Not much talk. But I'll leave it on long.

Enter. That was it. Only stuff I could actually pull off.

I clicked through it all, and the platform's mascot character popped confetti to welcome me. My heart pounded just like that very first stream—I let out an absurd chuckle.

"Haa…"

Another sigh slipped out, unbidden. Wondering what this damn gacha's status window would spit out next.

But weirdly… I was looking forward to it a little. Next stream. Next choices. Next people I'd see.

I leaned back against the chair for a sec, gazing up at the ceiling.

"……Eunha, streamer."

I mumbled it softly, hood sleeve draped over the back of my hand as I set the mouse aside. Still awkward on my tongue, but… not bad.

"Let's try one more time."

It wasn't said for anyone to hear, barely a resolution even—but it was enough for me right now.

A tiny notification pinged at the top of the monitor.

"…Notice?"

I scanned the screen again. In nearly two years of streaming, I'd never touched community features—hadn't even thought about it.

Fumbled through the page, clicked.

Empty void. Gray background with [Try writing your first post].

Felt weirdly grandiose for a first try. I swallowed hard.

Streams you could just flip on and off, but a notice? That was a permanent trace anyone wandering in could see. And with 10 followers now, they'd get instant alerts.

Cursor blinked in the input box.

Author: Eunha

"…Ah."

A sound escaped my lips. No one had called me, but seeing the name stamped there made my heart skip again.

I leaned back into the chair, then forward.

'No need to overcomplicate.'

Short and sweet, like before. Just what I could manage.

I typed.

The post went up, and a little [Notice] icon pinned itself to the top.

"…Done?"

I reread it—too bland? But tacking on more would just make it awkward. This was me, right now.

I'd been staring at the screen for a good while after posting. Right as I went to set the mouse down, a familiar translucent window quietly overlapped.

Rewards. The panties I had on came from here too… At least I didn't have to slink around the lingerie shop like some overgrown kid. But seriously, claiming loot mid-crisis like it was a real game? Absurd.

A flicker of anticipation—I straightened up in my seat.

"Eek!"

A pile of fabric dumped right onto my head from thin air—I yelped without thinking. Could've spawned in front, jerk!

A sigh-mixed grumble leaked toward some empty spot at eye level.

Where nothing had been moments ago, white cloth now spilled like waves.

I bent down and gingerly picked one up. A white off-shoulder dress. Not sheer, light as anything, buttery soft under my fingers.

Not too fancy, but no sloppy home loungewear vibe either… Like, blind date outfit?

"…Something like this."

I mumbled, unfolding it. Shoulder-baring design—a relief, maybe. Shoving these massive tits in there, the open neckline would feel freeing instead of stuffy.

"Accident probability reduce…"

I tilted my head, recalling the description. Not about covering up—it was geared toward preventing mishaps.

The black underwear set and white bra top nearby? Colors and cuts all subdued. Nothing flashy to make you self-conscious.

"…Gives options, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at least."

Saying it out loud lightened my mood a touch. Yesterday's getup wasn't even chosen—felt grimy. The slip-up? Not on purpose. But now? I decide if I wear it.

I hung the dress over the bed and plopped back in the chair, grabbing my phone.

One notification.

"…Already?"

My heart skipped a beat too fast. 3 comments. Not one—three.

I gripped my trembling hand and scrolled down, slow, one by one.

"…."

Laughter bubbled up right away. Why did "don't push too hard" hit so warmly?

The gray space on my monitor felt like it was gaining a bit of warmth, bit by bit.

I leaned back in the chair, phone resting on my chest, and stayed still for a long while.

Thump. Heart sounded huge—I pressed my palm lightly over it, but no dice.

"…Just a few comments."

I scolded myself, but my lips wouldn't droop.

Why were there people waiting for me, anyway?

I snuck a glance at the bed where the dress lay.

'10pm.' Still some time left.

I fidgeted, tucking hair behind my ear—only for it to slip free again, tuck, repeat.

'Never been like this before.'

Pre-stream nerves stretching this long? First time ever.

I dimmed the phone screen and whispered, tiny, like to myself.

"They're… waiting."

A sign I wanted to do a little better than yesterday, somehow.