An Ordinary Twentysomething?

Even after Seolhwa ended her stream, a few viewers still lingered in the chat.

Seolhwa watched the messages scroll by. It felt strange — so many people actually seemed disappointed that she had called it a day.

"Huh. That's new."

Back when she'd worked as a hunter in another world, she had almost never made public appearances. Whenever she had to go out, she armored herself in a mask and a cap before stepping in front of a camera.

There had been people who liked her that way, of course, but the truth was that she never commanded the recognition of Yuri or the others who lived on the public stage. Which was also why she caught the most hate. The comment sections under articles about her were full of things like, what does that pale, sickly-looking girl even do?

Whenever a gate break erupted, Seolhwa's role was to snipe the enemy's elite monsters from positions no one could see. She was not the type to carve a swathe of carnage the way she did now.

It was true that she excelled in one-on-one combat, but she wasn't stronger than a warrior or an assassin. While the others performed where every eye could follow them, she worked where nobody was watching — and so she heard plenty of ugly words along the way.

Right before the memories of the past threatened to swallow her whole, a notification chimed on her phone.

"Already this late, huh."

She rose from her seat and headed for the kitchen, tipping the pills out of their packet and into her mouth.

"Feels weaker than last time."

The sensation that followed the dose was oddly sharper than before. When Seolhwa moved her hand, a small bell chimed.

Is that because of this?

She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. Probably just the dosage or something.

With that, Seolhwa climbed into bed and let sleep take her.

The next morning, after finishing her light exercise, she logged into YooTube with a sandwich clamped between her teeth.

Radio streams, huh.

She had done a few podcasts following that guy's lead, but she had never talked much on them. Whenever she got summoned, it was always alongside Yuri — the two of them carrying the conversation while the occasional question drifted her way. A thoroughly one-sided exchange.

"I really don't know how to do that."

Chewing her toast, Seolhwa began searching through videos. She'd looked before, but a decade had remade the landscape entirely — content on a completely different level from ten years ago was pouring out now.

And what stood out above it all was, of course, the VTubers.

"VTubers, huh..."

She clicked one of the videos the algorithm had served her. The moment it started, an upbeat song played over a bright animated opening. When the intro ended, a girl with squirrel ears filled the screen, her ears twitching perkily.

Then she launched into an energetic greeting.

"Hello, YooTube viewers! I'm Dori! Today's content is the Weekly Cafe Tour, where we dig up all the fun news of the week — let's get right into it!"

The girl on screen read from the thread naturally as she bounced off her viewers. Dori would speak, the chat would react, she'd read the chat and react right back — an effortless, endless back-and-forth.

"So this is how it's done?"

Seolhwa tried picturing herself streaming the way Dori did, but no matter how many simulations she ran in her head, no picture formed. She reached a verdict quickly.

Yeah. I couldn't do it that way.

Toast in hand, she slowly worked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her way down Dori's YooTube channel. With every scroll, the channel's character shifted dramatically.

Variety games lately; a console game streamer before that. Broke out on a streamer mega-server.

Having gotten a rough picture, Seolhwa got up, cleared away her breakfast, and sat down in front of the study computer.

"Was I supposed to give notice before going live?"

She moved her mouse into the streaming channel and wrote a community post.

"That should do it, right?"

The moment Seolhwa's announcement went up, the community caught fire all over again.

The gallery had been split off from the main board after Seolhwa's debut, once her related topics began flooding the place faster than anything else could breathe.

While the trivial chatter rolled on, the hour Seolhwa had announced arrived.

The background on screen wasn't the usual Last Promise scenery. It was the My Room setting — Seolhwa's actual room.

"Yes, I'm here."

Reading the chat, Seolhwa spoke slowly.

"Someone said yesterday, before I ended the stream, that they wanted to chat with me — so I put a little something together."

"I'll say it again — I am not a professional streamer."

Having read the chat, Seolhwa declared with perfect confidence:

"That's something you all have to bring."

"You're the ones who said you wanted to talk to me. So bring your topics."

Seolhwa said it with a perfectly straight face, and the viewers reacted as if the sheer shamelessness had physically struck them.

"If we keep this up, I'm going to start a game of ignoring the chat."

The moment she said it, questions of every shape and size began pouring in.

"Oh, faster than I expected. I had toast today. And while I was eating it, I watched this person's video."

Seolhwa conjured a floating screen and showed the viewers Dori's YooTube channel.

"I, um... got curious about how radio streams work, went looking, and the algorithm caught me. But I don't think I could do it her way."

"So I just used it as a reference."

Reading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the chat as it came, Seolhwa eased the stream forward bit by bit.

Reading those messages, Seolhwa paused to think. Then she opened her mouth.

"I'm a hunter who came back after saving another world."

She had simply decided to charge straight through.

"The world I came back from was very similar to Last Promise."

"Except I was the only one who survived. My contract was a return, not a regression. I never even got to hold funerals for the comrades who died — I was dragged straight back to my original world. I sobbed and begged the goddess I'd made the contract with, but my body was already fading away from the feet up. And every single night after that, the spirits of my dead comrades came to me in my dreams."

"So I was taking psychiatric medication when I found Last Promise, somehow ended up broadcasting, and that's how I got here."

When Seolhwa forced a smile, the chat flooded with attempts to rescue the mood.

"Might as well hop into the game, then. Feels like we've been talking for about an hour."

The moment she said it, the chat that had been creeping back to life through the heavy atmosphere kicked into gear again.

Her vision darkened for a moment, then brightened — and she was standing right where she'd logged off the day before.

"No dates with Yuri. Today I'm heading to the industrial district."

Seolhwa pulled a single Sky Lily out of her inventory and held ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it up.

"I need to process this at some point. And I figure it's about time I started making proper equipment, too."

"I'm not saying this just because I've been to another world, but things like this really do have their uses."

With that, Seolhwa set off toward the industrial district.

Instead of answering, Seolhwa silently opened her minimap. This time, she decided to use fast travel. And the viewers watching it erupted into celebratory chat.

Saying nothing, Seolhwa pressed the button for Euljiro.

The district had always been famous for its industry. When the gates broke, it collapsed once — and then, one by one, blacksmiths catering to hunters and alchemists began drifting back in.

Over the years that followed, Euljiro became an essential stop for every hunter in the city. Rookies came looking for solid gear at cheap prices; veterans came looking for the smiths whose rhythm they'd honed over long years of partnership.

And of course, tucked away somewhere in its corners, there were those who hid themselves away and lived as recluses.

But what Seolhwa had come looking for this time wasn't a blacksmith.

It was supposed to be here, they'd said.