The Words I Wanted to Hear (2)

Everyone. Thank you so much for watching until the end of the broadcast today as well. There was a small hiccup in the middle of the stream, but I'll manage my mental state better next time so something like this doesn't happen again. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.

The majority of the chat reacted positively once Arine apologized. She had only muted her audio for a moment; she hadn't fought with the viewers or let her emotions show too strongly, so the incident could be brushed off this easily.

That was probably thanks to Doyun oppa as well. If she had been streaming alone instead of collaborating, she wasn't sure what might have happened. As a top-tier streamer, she didn't break down easily, but being an INFJ meant that once she did crack, she struggled to keep her feelings in check.

She would dwell on it, over and over, gnawing at herself with self-blame. And because those feelings tended to leak out, it would have been obvious on stream. She let out a soft sigh.

"Then, to everyone who subscribed, donated, or chatted today—thank you so much~ I'll see you next time. No ending song today~ Bye-bye."

After barely managing her final greetings, Arine ended the broadcast. Simply finishing the collab safely felt like a miracle. The moment the camera switched off, a wave of relief washed over her. She let out a long, deep sigh, then searched for Do Doyun's name on Naty. His profile in her follow list was already gray. It looked like he had ended his stream before her.

That made sense. Today's broadcast had gone well over ten hours; he had to be exhausted. Not to mention he had been pushing his energy higher the whole time out of consideration for her.

Because of what happened earlier, she had felt him watching her closely throughout the stream. And the more her own energy dropped, the harder he had worked to lift the mood, as if he had to compensate. Even someone with Doyun's stamina would have found it tough to keep that level of intensity going for a full ten hours.

"...Is he sleeping?"

The more she thought about it, the sorrier she felt toward him. It was like she had made him carry an entire log that should have been split between them. Without even knowing the reason, he had covered for her when her tension tanked, coaxing and encouraging her until the stream finally ended. As a fellow streamer, she knew exactly how difficult that was, which only made her more grateful.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

If he was already asleep, waking him would be rude. If he wasn't on Discord, she would just contact him tomorrow. With that thought, she checked his status on the app.

Fortunately he wasn't sleeping yet. She had no idea what he was doing, but his Discord was active. Before that green light could disappear, she quickly started a voice call. Normally she would have just sent a message for most things, but today was different. This had happened because of her own personal issues, and Doyun had no obligation to understand or accommodate it. He had simply let it slide because he was a genuinely good person.

Sending a message for something like that felt too half-hearted. I wish he had at least yelled at me. That would have been easier on her conscience. If he had given her a stern warning that he hoped something like today wouldn't happen again, she would have felt better. Instead, Doyun had acted like nothing had happened at all. He ended the stream without even sending a single follow-up message. As if to say the one who struggled was her, so she shouldn't worry about him and should just rest.

It touched her. Every time he did something like this, she couldn't help liking Do Doyun more as a person.

The call connected.

"...Ah. Oppa."

Hearing Doyun's voice, which sounded just a little tired, she couldn't shake the warm feeling of happiness. They had literally just been talking during the collab. Why did his voice still sound so welcome?

Maybe it was just because Doyun's voice was naturally comforting to listen to.

She didn't quite understand her own feelings, but the moment he answered, the fact that his first assumption was work made her feel a tiny bit upset. Why does oppa always assume I only call about work? Did he think she was some kind of work-obsessed woman? Or that the only things they had to talk about were business-related?

Of course Doyun hadn't done anything wrong. Even she didn't fully understand why she was feeling this way. So she swallowed the faint displeasure and kept it hidden. She wanted to grumble, but that wasn't the attitude someone apologizing should have.

"Ah, yeah. It is about work, but... it's about today... um."

"No, it's not that. My attitude on stream today wasn't good... so I wanted to apologize to you... I'm sorry, oppa."

Like a child confessing a mistake to her teacher, she apologized to Do Doyun in a small, shrinking voice. How would oppa feel about it? What would he say? Since she had apologized, would he scold her with a sharp "That's right!"? Or would he go through it point by point?

But she didn't think he would. She didn't believe Doyun would blame her. She had no concrete evidence for it. It was just a feeling. Just the impression she had gotten from how he had treated her so far. And most of the time, her intuition about him was right.

"...If I wasn't sorry, wouldn't that mean I have no conscience? You basically carried the whole stream by yourself today."

As expected. His reaction was exactly what she had imagined. He spoke in that slightly gruff way while still being considerate. The words warmed her heart without her even realizing it.

"I didn't! I didn't dig a hole!"

"Well... maybe a little... I dug quite a lot until just now..."

At her timid answer, he burst out laughing. She had no idea what was so funny, but hearing his bright, hearty laugh somehow put her at ease.

"Stop laughing. Stop laughing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠already~"

Without asking for a single reason, he tried to end the call. He must have instinctively sensed that this was a sensitive spot for her. Because Doyun was quick like that. And because his thoughtfulness looked so reliable, she thought, Maybe it's okay to tell someone like him.

They were going to be collabing for the next six months anyway, so wouldn't it be better if he knew? She attached all sorts of justifications in her head and prepared to tell him about her past. Or maybe she simply wanted him to listen to her story. It wasn't something she could easily tell just anyone.

"Oppa, aren't you curious? About why I suddenly acted like that?"

"That's true. But even so, my reaction was too much, wasn't it? Weren't you flustered?"

Right. He must have been taken aback. That was exactly why Doyun oppa deserved to know why. After finishing this strange internal persuasion that had no real audience, she quietly began to speak about her past.

"Actually... but first, you already know this, right? That I was an idol trainee."

"Right. Then it'll be easier to explain. Anyway, back then I received a lot of evaluation based on my appearance."

"Being an idol trainee is mostly about appealing to producers how attractive your product—yourself—is, right?"

"Honestly, even now I'm not particularly outstanding at singing or dancing. In the streaming world I might be considered good, but that place ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was full of kids who were on another level."

The difference in talent was even more pronounced because she had been at a major agency. It was a place where only those born to shine had gathered. Arine had been in a dance club since middle school, so she wasn't bad at dancing or singing. But compared to real geniuses, her talent fell far short.

And in that environment, Arine's only standout strength had been her visuals. After all, the reason she had been cast in the first place was because of the Instagram posts she had consistently uploaded. The producers had chosen her after seeing her appearance.

"At first, hearing people praise my visuals felt good. It was why I got cast, and everyone would go 'wow' even if I didn't do anything."

"But as time passed, it started to feel empty. No matter how hard I tried, the gap between me and the talented kids wouldn't close. I couldn't do anything else, and I was slowly turning into what they call a 'visual representative'—someone valued only for her face."

"It felt like everyone was only looking at my empty shell. No matter how much effort I put in, they wouldn't acknowledge the results, but they would so easily praise my face and body. As if I didn't need to do anything at all. Like all I had to do was stand on stage, smile, and wave my hand."

In reality, that was exactly what everyone expected from her. No one hoped for anything more. Even if she debuted, she would only become the group's mascot. Something flashy on the outside but hollow within. A shell.

"My skills weren't there, but because of my looks I passed several rounds of evaluations. That made some of the other girls hate me. And I started to feel self-loathing. Like I didn't belong there, like I had gotten in through some unfair backdoor and my conscience was stabbing me... I endured it for a while, but eventually I left."

She thought it might sound like a spoiled complaint to others. That was why she had never easily spoken about it. She could already imagine the responses: 'Aren't you an idiot? Just debut first and improve your skills later.' 'Some people would kill for that chance, and you're throwing it away when all you have to do is stay?' 'Are you complaining because your face is too pretty?'

And because she knew those words weren't entirely wrong, she was afraid hearing them would only hurt her. So she had never told the viewers who watched her streams, her close friends or fellow streamers, or even her own family why she had quit being an idol trainee. She had always just vaguely said it was because her skills weren't good enough.

Yet for some reason, the words flowed so easily in front of this man. The story she had never told anyone was breaking through the solid walls around her heart and pouring out. Even Arine herself found it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strange.

"Well, after I left the agency I couldn't adjust to school, gave up on the college entrance exam, worked part-time jobs day by day, and eventually started internet streaming. A boring story like that. What do you think? Does it sound obnoxious?"

Even so, she hadn't been able to let go of her dream of wanting to make others happy. She had started streaming because she wanted to use her singing, dancing, and charm to bring joy to people, and she had come this far. The path hadn't been smooth, but she thought she had been lucky. Even she hadn't expected things to work out this well.

"...Anyway, I ended up sharing my whole life story even though it wasn't necessary. So that's why I reacted that way today. I have some trauma around comments about my appearance."

The phrase "riding on your face" had terrified her. It was something she had heard a lot in the early days of her streaming career, and it felt all too real. Every time she heard it, memories of her idol trainee days came flooding back. Did I really get this far just by riding on my looks? Am I still just an empty shell even in internet broadcasting? Those thoughts had eaten away at her mind.

"I'm sorry. This probably wasn't something you were curious about. I dumped way too much unnecessary information again... ahaha."

When Doyun remained silent for a moment, Arine wondered if she had said too much. Then his voice came through.

"Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

How could he say that with such certainty? He had streaming experience; he couldn't possibly be unaware of how much appearance affected a female streamer's popularity. Yet there he was, speaking with absolute conviction. And as she listened to him, one thought rose clearly in her mind.

I was right to tell oppa.

Because those were exactly the words she had wanted to hear more than anything else.