Chapter 8: Viewers 42
"...Hmm."
I'd only just realized today how imagining what to say and how many people might show up could make the whole day vanish in a flash.
I snapped my eyes open—it was already past 9:30. I grabbed the off-shoulder dress I'd draped over the bed once more. Simple design at a glance. White, shoulders slightly exposed. Cinched a bit at the waist, hem right above the knees. It screamed innocent and pure.
"But..."
I slowly unzipped my hoodie and stepped up to the mirror. As the hem lifted over my panties, the thin bra cupping my breasts came into view first. I started to pull on the dress over it—then remembered. I fetched the strapless bra from the last reward and slipped it on underneath. The stretchy fabric clung just over my areolas and nipples, tiny enough it felt like it might slip off if I bounced too much. My breasts... they were bigger than I'd thought.
"......"
I threw on the off-shoulder dress haphazardly. My shoulder line looked clean, but the upper curve of my breasts pushed the fabric up slightly, making the whole thing feel a tad floaty. I'd thought it'd be modest before putting it on, but now? Just wearing it felt somehow sexy. Unintentionally...
I faced the mirror head-on. I straightened my waist a bit, relaxed my shoulders, smoothed the hem with my fingertips. Still, what stood out was—
"...My boobs are, like, too much."
Back when I was a guy, I'd hunted for words like "huge tits" and "massive jugs" in porn, sneaking peeks at girls on the street. But now that they were mine...? I stepped back, scanning my full reflection. The 'Eunha' in the mirror looked a bit much for lounging at home, yet oddly attention-grabbing for going out.
"Is this really the 'reduced accident risk'?"
I muttered, pressing the upper edge of the dress with my fingertips. It didn't slip down. Just as described—it was holding things in place to prevent issues. That fact only made me more self-conscious. Like this dress knew exactly where the line was between 'okay to show' and not.
I turned my head, checking the side profile. Rounded shoulders, and if I tilted my head down a little, my collarbone dipped invitingly.
"Mmm~."
After agonizing, I relaxed my shoulders and swept my hair forward. That was the best defense I could manage today. My eye caught the light next to the monitor—still unopened, no time left. I picked it up, muttering to myself.
"10 a.m."
18 minutes until broadcast. The clock's ticking seemed deafening, so I scratched my ear absentmindedly, then peeled off the plastic wrap and unfolded it carefully. Lighter tripod than expected. Tricky clip light for angles, but I finally propped it by the computer and flicked the switch.
Click.
"Ugh..."
My eyes squinted as it blazed to life. The room felt instantly brighter. Shadows softened, under-eyes less tired-looking. The dress's white gleamed a tone purer.
"Whoa..."
A tiny gasp escaped—not so much admiration for how pretty it was, but a real sense of this is for streaming.
I sat in the chair, stood, sat again. Adjusted the camera height, scooted the chair back then forward, tapped the mic position with my fingertips. Under the bright light, I settled slowly in front of the screen. My webcam reflection looked awkward. Hair swept forward, but the space between shoulders and neckline felt bare. The off-shoulder dress drew the eye even sitting still.
I let out a long breath.
If I turn it on... Would people flood in like yesterday? Or would today be different? Unconsciously, I smoothed the dress hem again. Shoulders not too exposed, but not awkward.
I took a deep breath.
"I... I can do this..."
Trembling fingers moved the mouse. Platform dashboard. Broadcast title input. Tags. 9:57 a.m.—then a small alert popped up.
New comment on 'Eunha's notice:
A slight tightness in my chest—not surprise this time, but anticipation.
"...They said they'd wait."
The corner of my mouth twitched up just a bit. 9:59. I sat straight in the chair, glanced at the camera lens, then dropped my gaze slightly.
[Broadcast Start]
Click.
The screen flickered; status changed to ON AIR.
"...Haa."
A sigh leaked out like a soliloquy in the empty room. A small timer started in the bottom right of the monitor.
00:00:03
00:00:07
Chat was still quiet. Viewers: 1. Then, moments later, 3.
I cleared my throat softly, straightened my back, tucked in my chin. The light evened out my face; in the webcam preview, I looked way more like a streamer than yesterday.
"Hello."
Was that too quiet? I paused a beat, then tried again.
"Hello. This is Eunha."
As soon as I finished, chat lines popped up.
My heart started pounding wildly.
"Th-thank you for coming."
Conscious of enunciating clearly, my tone pitched up a little. Worried my tension showed, I neatly placed my hands on my knees. Viewers: 7.
"Like I said yesterday, I'm planning to play some games quietly today."
Even as I spoke, I kept noticing how I looked on camera. Shoulders, neckline, dress top. But I forced my eyes to the monitor center. Not the time to think about that.
"Ah, thank you. That's... a secret."
A short laugh slipped out unintended; my mouth curved first. Viewers: 11.
"I'm still a bit clumsy with words, but I'll adapt quick. Let me know if it's uncomfortable."
As I finished, another chat popped like it'd been waiting.
I let out an awkward chuckle, hovering the cursor over the game launch button.
"Then... let's start."
Deep breath, careful click.
Game screen up, my tiny cam in the top-right OBS corner.
"Ah, here..., right."
Gameplay-wise, total noob—fumbling controls. But oddly, chat didn't call it out.
"Ah, haha..."
Viewers: 24.
Under their generous eyes, I dove into the game—then
Bambabam!
A sudden sound effect blasted, loud enough to drown the game. Massive donation popup dead center.
Anonymous donated 100,000 won!
Eunha reaction?
"—Huh?"
My narrowed eyes went wide, focused on the game moments ago. Viewers jumped to 31; chat flew.
My character died, but that wasn't the point. My flustered face and gaping mouth broadcast live.
"R-reaction...? A reaction...?"
Lips twitching, I stammered.
"I-I don't have one yet..."
"Ah— y-yes, yes...!"
Reflex reply, then I shot up from the chair. Aligned my waist to frame, clasped hands neatly, bowed a crisp, honest 90 degrees.
"Thank you so much!"
Straightening up, long hair cascaded down. Breasts swelled against the dress front; chat exploded again.
"Ugh... sorry for real...! Next time... I'll prepare something..."
Embarrassed, I covered my mouth with my hand, turning my head slightly. Cheeks flushed bright enough to show on screen.
"But seriously, thank you..."
My genuine fluster and gratitude hit harder than any fake reaction; chat teased relentlessly. Viewers: 42.
And from that moment, the number kept climbing without stop.