Summer Sea's Live Debut
Somehow, time slipped by, and when he finally woke, it was already 9 p.m. Had he slept for nearly thirteen hours? His body felt refreshed, but his mind was another story. He barely managed to sit up, his finger hovering indecisively over the email icon, twitching uselessly.
Would Luna-ri have checked it? Had she replied? Or maybe she hadn't seen it yet. He tried to convince himself it was all for the best if it just vanished into nothing—like, good riddance. He'd made the track for fun, and they could both quietly forget about it. But then... that would mean no one to sing it. He hated unfinished things. Lost in such scattered thoughts, he finally opened his email.
A reply. His heart pounded. Four exclamation points. His lips curved up involuntarily before he forced them back down. He read it again. Once more. The clock read 9:22 p.m. Forty minutes until the stream started. For those forty minutes, he did nothing but stare blankly at an empty project file in his composition program.
It was a secret—not really—that two minutes before 10 p.m., his finger was already hovering over the browser tab. When the time came, he clicked into the streaming site with a sharp tick.
Luna-ri's stream was already live. She'd started ten minutes early.
The count jumped to 1 the moment he entered. Yesterday, that one-on-one felt burdensome, but today curiosity won out. Sorry, Luna-ri, but for someone like him who found people uncomfortable, her low-popularity stream was actually a relief.
A light greeting, and her sky-high energy hit his eardrums like a wave.
Her voice brimmed with exclamation points, excitement palpable even through the screen.
"Already? Nice." The words slipped out unbidden.
One viewer dying to hear the song, the other itching to sing it—the stream's opening kicked off just like that. A brief moment of preparation. Rustling sounds filtered through, and he leaned back against his chair. His heart raced oddly. He hadn't expected the moment his arrangement met her real voice to feel this tense.
Thump-thump. Thrilling.
Ding-a-ling—dong— The first note rang out. His all-night sculpted intro flowed from his room's speakers. A decadent bassline crawled along the floor, overlaid with heavy, cool acoustic guitar melody. The room's air shifted instantly—calm, dreamlike.
"Beyond the blue sea—"
Luna-ri cautiously began the first verse. In that instant, every hair on his body stood on end.
It was different. Same lyrics, but a whole new song. The husky allure that had been crushed trying to match the idol track's high tension now clung stickily to the slow minor bass rhythm, creating perfect synergy. The backing masked her shaky pitch, thrusting only her timbre into the spotlight.
The song built toward the chorus. That devilish high note where she'd faltered and gasped yesterday approached. He clenched his fist unconsciously, holding his breath. Would it play out as he'd imagined? If it flowed naturally, at her usual tempo, like water...
"Shall we go together—"
"Haa—"
"That summer, into the sea—!!"
The promised two seconds he'd engineered: every instrument in the background cut off sharp. Perfect silence. Then—
That split-second breath sliced through the mic, piercing the quiet. Boom—it ignited the suppressed sounds and beats, exploding back to devour the track. Her unsteady breath transformed into the sexiest, most dramatic climax, shredding the mood entirely.
"..."
What was this? He'd piled up so many tracks alone in his room over six years, but nothing had ever felt like this. His sounds meeting a living voice, birthing something entirely new. He just clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly.
Silence followed the song's end.
Her voice returned cautiously, the initial hype drained away. His finger hovered over the chat, pausing. What to say? Good. Amazing. Way better than expected. But were those words enough? He just typed what came to mind.
The pink cat-eared avatar froze briefly, then its ears perked up. The tail wagged. An expression of joy? It looked like the avatar was literally bouncing with delight. And as soon as his curt review ended, Luna-ri unleashed a torrent of words.
Ah.
It was deliberate. While reviewing her replays, he'd analyzed her fatigue points, the sounds she made, even incorporating her mic breaths into the music itself. Yeah, all true... but admitting it felt too embarrassing. Picturing himself comparing her isolated breaths to fit here or there... yeah, kinda creepy.
Room-bound hikikomori here.
Luna-ri rambled on. Praises for the track, gratitude toward him, tales of past struggles. Like someone tipsy, stream-of-consciousness. Periodic arrangement compliments made it clear she loved his work—he felt humbled.
Her voice choked up at times, making typing hard. What to say? Too distant for comfort, too vivid to ignore. Was he swayed by her emotion? Thinking his music reached someone made his chest tighten too.
A soft sniffle, then her bright voice returned.
They chatted lightly like that, and Luna-ri sang Summer Sea two more times as her end-of-stream song.
......
After that day, he started tuning into Luna-ri's streams regularly. No real reason—just habit. He'd leave it on while composing late at night if stuck, listen when she sang, chat occasionally. That was it.
Luna-ri streamed almost daily. Most days, he was still the only viewer, but she didn't seem to mind. He wasn't big on people anyway. Honestly, the low viewer count had felt comfortable at first.
But what was this? Watching her talk to herself while he multitasked felt... off. Like he should respond. Guilt welled up when she trailed off, staring blankly, as if he'd done something wrong. Still, she didn't seem keen on growing her channel, so he stayed quiet as her sole viewer and fan.
Then one day.
She brought it up out of nowhere. No songs that day—just chit-chat.
A frank confession. It hit him fresh—like a shock.
She wanted to grow it after all?!
So she'd been streaming at prime time 9 p.m., dabbling for four hours, ending early, playing trash Steam games when bored? He'd assumed she enjoyed low traffic, wasting bandwidth with occasional songs.
Even as a streaming dropout, he'd pulled 300 to 600 viewers back then. Sure, his looks and guitar helped, but starting right after school at 3 p.m. was key. He'd hustled too: guitar reactions for donations, punishments for fun. Streaming wasn't easy.
But no way was he lecturing Luna-ri like back in my day!. That streamer was long dead, a damp secret. He wouldn't share his middle-school Kim Do-yoon past until it faded from the world. VTubers were different anyway.
From across the river, he typed casually.
Ah, got it.
"..."
YouTube search turned up nothing, so he got the link from her directly. Full of edited game compilations. Thumbnails were just stream captures; "edits" were basically VODs. Horrific. Who'd watch this? He couldn't hold back.
To him, her genre mismatch hid real skill worth bragging about. But doubting his ears, he held back. Sigh. Switching from YouTube back to the streaming platform, an ad caught his eye.
Normally he'd scroll past, but in this context, it grabbed him. Perfect for promo.
Cat ears shot up, eyes wide.
So that's why she should go. High views = perfect promo.
Even as he typed, it sounded too easy. But it was her problem, so words flowed. Judges included big streamers and an undisclosed pro singer. He'd never go, even beaten.
Luna-ri stared blankly ahead for a while, deep in thought. After much hemming and hawing, she spoke.
Had she decided?
Guidelines: 500+ total stream hours for docs, submit recording of one verse. Skill-wise, she'd pass, but visibility mattered. High rejection odds, as she said.
A throat-clearing cough, then her voice softened cautiously.
"Hm..."
Too embarrassing to put his crude bedroom remix in front of crowds. But if she wanted it, no refusing. He'd given it to her already. Though... bad reviews might hurt—a little, or a lot.
Anyway, he agreed readily.
??
His careless words about "her problem" now tightened around his own ankles.