Outside the Blanket is Dangerous
“……”
Being me was absolute, and being young was utterly powerless. I was so ignorant I couldn’t even recognize the sticky disgust, that inexplicable queasiness from the text, as revulsion.
Every day. Every single day. Just like always, I brushed it off with a smile.
Regret only came after the problem exploded.
What if I’d properly steered the chat vibe? Or maybe covered my face?
How the hell did they find out my home address when I’d never told a soul?
Should I never have started streaming in the first place?
All I wanted was to share my guitar playing… how did it come to this…?
What was the problem?
I don’t know. Really.
Thud thud—thud!
Middle school second year, that summer. The day a strange woman knocked on our door.
I quit streaming and ran away.
“A dream, huh…”
I must’ve dozed off tapping the MIDI keyboard for a second.
Thudding from downstairs, upstairs, next door—somewhere—decorated the end of my dream and helped me escape it.
A few years back, that damp memory resurfaced, leaving a light sheen of cold sweat.
I frantically scanned my surroundings, confirming the familiar space I knew, before relaxing.
My dim room. Even in midsummer, double blackout curtains drawn tight.
The only light: the cold blue glow spilling from three monitors.
I stared blankly at the composition program window on the main monitor, then my gaze drifted to the powered-off left sub-monitor.
My face faintly reflected on the black screen.
“Haa… hot.”
Six years since that day.
I’d become a total shut-in who couldn’t even turn the doorknob at will.
Aside from eating and sleeping, I obsessed over composing like a madman.
Music became my oxygen tank.
The countless tracks piled on my hard drive—traces of my resistance.
Sadly, composing was just a hobby. I knew I’d have to step outside eventually.
I needed courage, but the discord between my head and heart kept me chained to this room.
I gotta go out. Yeah, I gotta.
To others, it might sound like empty words.
But I had something to say to myself—I’d tried one thing each year in my annual ritual.
Two years ago, I took the high school equivalency exam. Last year, I applied to college and got in.
Of course, I never set foot on campus after enrolling, wasting a year and a ton of tuition, but still.
The point was, I’d mustered courage.
What should this year’s goal be? Nothing came to mind.
Sigh.
I wiped the cold sweat and gripped the mouse.
1 a.m. At this hour, habit had me zombie-scrolling used instrument markets or MIDI community boards.
Rarely, good gear popped up cheap, and peeking at other composers’ stories was its own fun.
New synth out? Someone dumping speakers on the cheap?
I scrolled for a while.
“Huh?”
Amid the familiar bullshit posts on a board I’d frequented for months, one random promo stood out.
Author: Luna-ri
Singing and chatting streams! Come hang out! (Stream link)
Comments: 0
What’s this, promo? Here?
Super out of place on this MIDI community. No streamers here, no interest either.
And that indifference showed in the zero comments.
“……”
I went to back out like everyone else, but the stream link caught my eye.
It’d been ages since I quit streaming. Never watched a single internet broadcast or similar in all that time.
Maybe that old me flashing in my dream earlier?
Some mix of courage and spite took over my fingers.
Click.
A new browser tab opened to a clean UI streaming platform.
“Ah…”
I stared at the monitor and let out a dumb noise.
Regret hit the instant I clicked.
No viewers? Am I really alone?
Even online, sudden one-on-one was too much homework for me.
I prayed it wasn’t, but seconds after I joined…
It became 1. Me. I was the count.
Thankfully, the streamer was AFK. Gentle BGM played, a lush green meadow like an old Windows wallpaper filling the screen.
I’ll bail now. Before she talks to me…
Clatter-crash. Something collapsed in a heap, then a cautious voice flowed out again.
“Oh…?”
I found myself focusing on her voice.
Noise cleared, her pure tone came through: slightly husky, strangely languid.
Not even singing, just a few words, and dozens of fitting chords spun in my head for an imagined her.
Streamer's Luna-ri chattered nonstop.
Should I chat back? But her rapid topic shifts froze my hands.
This bubbly streamer was my polar opposite as a hikikomori.
Wanna bolt. But I wanted to hear that voice sing once.
Torn, I typed something unrelated to her ramble.
Didn’t she say singing stream? She seemed reluctant.
Awkward silence for 3 seconds, then her bright voice returned.
Did I kill the vibe with my off-topic chat? With just me watching, she couldn’t ignore it.
Ba-bam!
My stray thoughts snapped as a fast, brassy backing track blasted.
“This song…?”
Summer Sea, megahit from national girl group Luminous.
Explosive vocals hitting ultra-highs, demanding crystal clarity— a brutal dance track even pros struggled with live.
Soon, Luna-ri sang.
“……”
I rubbed my dry face with both hands.
Disastrous. Beat lagged half-beats later on, pitch flat.
Worst, her voice clashed with the bouncy idol track like oil and water.
Forcing highs killed her charm, ragged gasps grating.
Song ended.
Luna-ri laughed awkwardly, unsatisfied too.
What to say? Truth or white lie, just move on quick.
But the imbalance between track and voice rang too clear in my ears.
Not a pro composer, but ignoring it felt wrong… such a waste of tone.
That shrill summer dance backing doomed it.
What if slowed to R&B tempo, minor chords?
Drop instruments right before chorus?
Make her gasps part of the music.
A rearranged backing poured from my mind, her song shining anew on an imagined stage.
Why am I like this? Crazy?
Heart pounded. Not fear.
A small desire bloomed: clothe that voice in my music.
I ignored my trembling fingers, typing like entranced.
No face shown, but her sulky tone made me wince a bit.
First human chat in ages—couldn’t gauge intensity.
Hit enter, gasped.
What’d I just do to a total stranger? Think I’m a creep?
Modern easy-out—no undo?—eyes darted, then her voice, far meeker now, from speakers.
Her mumble—song’d be wasted—drew an involuntary deflating chuckle from me.
Might regret this, but.
This person has a blessed talent—why so insecure? Beyond envy for normies.
She asked five, six times like teasing, so I infused certainty.
Went on like you're good, you got this.
She brightened quick.
Her skills still raw, but I wanted to carve a song for that voice.
As she chattered on again, I sorted my thoughts.
“……?”
A doll-like figure popped on the green meadow background.
And it lip-synced with Luna-ri’s words.
“What… is this?”
Luna-ri wasn’t human.