The Life of a Hako Streamer (1)
I filled my stomach with cup ramen and a triangle kimbap after getting off work. Arine would be arriving soon. Today was the second day of our 'Swap Lives for a Day' series—the day she would experience my daily routine.
If I were to put it in typical YouTube content style, it'd be something like 'Conglomerate Tries Out Hako Life.' It was a pretty interesting topic. After all, a conglomerate experiencing hako life was the kind of premise that could easily pull in the clicks.
But when she first suggested it, I actually hesitated because of that very angle.
“It might just be pointless pride, but...”
I knew that a guy with nothing had to lay all his cards on the table if he wanted to succeed. Still, the idea of exposing my daily life to people—especially a huge audience—well... honestly, I didn't want to.
My living situation was something I couldn't even show my friends without feeling ashamed. My broadcasting setup was so poor it was almost embarrassing. If I contrasted that with Arine's life and put it on air, the only thing I'd get back was pity.
I didn't want pity.
I hated the thought of my life looking like some tragic tale of someone who failed to achieve their dreams. It would feel like one of those documentaries that follow the lives of struggling people. Like some kind of misery porn.
And if I had one more point of pride, it was that I didn't want to show it to Arine specifically.
The viewers? Sure, that was fine. They were strangers anyway. People I'd probably never meet face-to-face in my entire life. And them watching was what let me earn money and grow. That much was okay.
But Arine?
Showing her my real life was an entirely different story.
Of course, she probably already knew my living situation wasn't great. Just from the background visible on my cam, it was obvious. But actually inviting her into my place and making her experience my daily life with me? As a man, that really crushed my pride.
Sure, I tried hard not to see her in a romantic light. But my instincts were screaming at me. You can't show her this uncool side of yourself.
What if? they said. What if you end up dating her someday? Won't this make her lose interest? Aren't you cutting off even the slightest possibility?
And even if she weren't a woman, revealing the ugly parts of my life to someone I knew was a completely different matter. From then on, every time Arine saw me, she'd remember what my life looked like and feel sorry for me.
That was too horrible to imagine.
But even after weighing all that shame, I eventually decided to go through with it.
It aligned with my broadcasting philosophy, after all.
My own suffering didn't matter. As long as it made for good content, that was enough.
That broadcast-crazy mindset. It was what had carried me this far, and it was my only real character trait.
So today, I had invited her to this shabby, pathetic little place that I wouldn't want to show anyone.
“I did my best... but there really is a limit.”
I'd aired the place out, cleaned when I normally wouldn't, sprayed deodorizer—everything I could manage in a short time. But no matter how neatly I tidied up, it wasn't anywhere near presentable.
That was probably because the fundamental state of the house itself was beyond saving. The walls stained from water leaks, the mold. The old, scratched, and stretched flooring. The musty smell unique to old houses.
I felt like flipping the entire place upside down, but I gave up and slumped down where I was.
......Whatever. It's not like I need to look good in front of Arine anyway. She doesn't have any feelings for me. We're just WGM partners.
In truth, even though I didn't want to do this, I was rationalizing it because I couldn't change my circumstances.
Then the phone rang.
It was the contact she had saved for herself last time we filmed.
I answered the call in my usual Do Doyun manner, as if the heavy feeling that had been weighing me down didn't exist at all.
“Hey. Arine. Where are you? Did you get here?”
“Yeah. Oppa. I’m at the entrance of the alley where we drove in last time. Where do I go from here?”
“Is there a CU convenience store in front of you?”
“Yeah. I’m right in front of the CU.”
“Then can you wait there? I’ll come pick you up.”
“Okay~ Hurry~ Honey.”
The call ended.
Lately, she seemed to enjoy doing things like this. Even when we weren’t on air, she kept acting like we were lovers, which put me in a difficult spot. I wasn’t sure if it was part of what she’d mentioned before—about needing to act like this in daily life to make it feel natural.
Honestly, it didn’t feel bad, so I let out a small chuckle.
“Alright, Arine. Your husband is on his way. Wait for me.”
I got up, slipped my feet into my crumpled slippers, and opened the front door.
“Ah~ So this is the place?”
“Yeah. Just come this way.”
Arine, who had brought her night-streaming camera, was alone this time—unlike last time. That made sense. Last time we’d started filming in the morning, which overlapped with her team’s work hours. But now it was after I’d finished my part-time shift, so of course she’d come by herself. Her team members would have already gotten off work by this hour too.
As she followed me down the stairs, Arine said,
“Ah, I should’ve filmed you at your part-time job too. It’s a shame.”
“Yeah. But it would’ve been awkward to ask the store manager for permission, and once people find out, customers might start showing up.”
“True. Can’t be helped.”
In Arine’s case, to capture her entire lifestyle, they had filmed everything from her external shoots to the end of her workday. But that was impossible for me. Most store managers hated having their workplace filmed. Besides, her channel wasn’t exactly one that would help promote the store.
Instead, Arine filled in the gap with commentary.
“So you just got back from your part-time job?”
“Yeah. I started at eight in the morning and just finished, so...”
“Then that’s eight hours a day? You work that much and then come home and start streaming?”
“On normal days? I do take some days off here and there, but pretty much, yeah.”
“Whoa. That must be really tough... Your face looks tired even now.”
“It’s fine. Once I turn the stream on and get into it, the dopamine kicks in and I don’t feel that tired anymore.”
Arine captured Doyun’s exhausted-looking face on camera. Even while filming, she felt genuine empathy for his lifestyle. It wasn’t like she had never done physical labor herself. She knew exactly how absurdly difficult it was to finish a shift like that and then start streaming right after.
Because she had gone through that period herself, she sometimes wondered if that was why she could endure her current brutal schedule.
“Liar. You look extremely tired.”
“What?”
“I know. I did that a lot during the early days of my streaming career.”
Doyun looked at her with a puzzled expression. For some reason, that made Arine a little annoyed.
“What? Why are you making that face?”
“No, it’s just... You look so much like a princess that I figured you wouldn’t have gone through much hardship.”
Was that a compliment or sarcasm? The word “princess” itself meant she was pretty, so it didn’t feel bad. Still, wanting recognition that she had struggled too, Arine replied,
“Hey now. I’ve been through my fair share of ups and downs, you know? Don’t underestimate me.”
“Really?”
“Remember when I told you about my trainee days?”
“Ah... yeah. But is it okay to talk about that now?”
“It’s fine. I’m not going to go into too much detail anyway. It’s okay.”
It was still a story she didn’t want to tell the viewers. But since Doyun already knew her secret, she could talk about it comfortably without needing to be overly cautious.
......More than that, he’s even worrying about whether my story will end up on the broadcast.
Arine liked that he remembered she hadn’t wanted to talk about it and was being considerate. That kind of attentiveness, which didn’t match his appearance, was always something that made her heart flutter.
“Anyway, after I left the agency, I ended up giving up on the college entrance exam and just got my diploma, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I was just lying around at home like a corpse. My parents told me that if I wasn’t going to act like a living person and had no plans for college, I should at least get a job.”
“I’m sure they did. That’s what normal parents would say.”
Doyun nodded as if he understood her words. For some reason, Arine felt like their hearts were connecting in that moment. Maybe Doyun had gone through something similar?
“But back then I was pretty deep in feelings of defeat. I didn’t want to hear that kind of talk from my parents, so I ran away from home.”
“You’re a total rebel. What were you relying on? Money?”
“I’m a huge J-type, remember? I had some savings from before. Allowance and stuff. Somehow I managed to scrape together enough for a five-million-won deposit. From then on, I lived like you—working part-time jobs.”
“And then you started streaming while living alone?”
“Yeah. I was alone at home and felt lonely, so I started watching internet broadcasts. It turned out to be way more fun than I expected. So I’d watch them secretly at my part-time job too, hiding from the boss. That’s how I eventually started streaming myself.”
“Ah.”
“Of course, at the beginning I had no viewers. No money either.”
“I bet.”
“So I did both the part-time job and streaming at the same time. Since I got popular pretty quickly, it was only about a year or so.”
Her gaze drifted into the air as if reminiscing. It had definitely been hard—there were times she thought she might die—but looking back now, they weren’t bad memories. In that cramped, tiny studio apartment, in those terrible conditions, she had lost all motivation for life... but she had started nurturing her dreams again.
Still, if someone told her to go through that pain again, she didn’t think she could return to that time. It had been that desperate and difficult.
At that moment, Doyun opened his front door and naturally held it for her as he stepped inside.
Holding the camera, Arine stepped into his room and swept the interior with the lens. An old window that barely let in any light. The shabby scene of a one-room apartment. It wasn’t all that different from the place she had lived in back then.
“So yeah, I kind of understand how hard it is. That’s why I think you’re really amazing.”
It wasn’t empty praise. It was recognition that could only come from someone who had shared the same experience. At those words, Doyun simply glanced back at her.
In his clear eyes, her own face was reflected.
......I wonder what he’s thinking about.
Just as she was feeling curious about what was going on in his head, a thought suddenly popped into Arine’s mind and she voiced it.
“By the way, Doyun. This might be rude, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Hm? Yeah.”
“How long have you been living the hako life? Now that I think about it, I’ve never asked how long you’ve been streaming.”
Considering his skill level, she had assumed he must have been at it for quite a while. But she had no idea how long he had been living like this.
Doyun paused for a moment at her question.
“Ah, that? Wait, how long has it been?”
He acted like it had been so long that he couldn’t even remember. The motion reminded her of a grandfather searching for where he had put an old item on a shelf. Then it slipped out casually.
“Let’s see... it’s February now, so... I guess I’m in my fourth year. Yeah.”
“F-four years...?”
......Cancel what I said about understanding.
When a number identical to her own streaming career came out of his mouth, Arine suddenly felt embarrassed about how she had been bragging earlier about having gone through all sorts of hardships.