I Misheard That, Right? Right?
What in the world was this? She had thrown that jab on purpose — pure bait, dangled to fan the girl's temper into the open.
"Oh, thank you! Hehe. I bought it off a street stall, actually — it's hard to find shops that carry clothes in my size. Want me to tell you where?"
She was actually thanking her. Thanking her, and offering to hand over the intel, no less.
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Jay's face, and she rearranged her folded arms.
"N-no, that's quite all right."
That honey-dripping giggle. That whoops-did-I-miss-something act. The woman was a sly little fox through and through. It had been ages since anyone had made her blood boil like this. Hah!
"Hm~ though did you buy that outfit in bulk or something? You had it on in one of your old broadcasts, too."
Refusing to be outdone, Jay curved her lips into a crescent-eyed smile.
Let's see you wriggle out of this one.
Whatever she tried, the first person to lose her composure here lost. There was no way a kid who barely looked twenty could outlast a woman who'd weathered every storm life could throw at her. This unnie was going to teach her exactly how frightening society could be—
"Oh, that? I haven't washed it yet! Haven't broken a sweat in it even once."
...?
Do people just say that? Out loud? Without a second's hesitation? Was she simply born without a filter? The sheer matter-of-factness of the delivery left Jay momentarily lost for words.
"Y-you haven't... washed it?"
"My viewers actually love it, apparently? Ugh. Perverted bastards."
Jay blinked rapidly, utterly flabbergasted. Then, after a beat, she shook her head inwardly and clamped a firm grip on her scattered mind.
She was a grandmaster of the silver tongue. A grandmaster of social graces. A grandmaster of backroom politics — and she would not, could not, be rattled by some random curveball like this!
"Still, come on. You're modeling for Zewibe now — you can't very well wear the same outfit every single time. It's not as if you're destitute."
"Destitute... well, maybe I actually am?"
"Follow me."
"Sorry? Where to?"
"I happen to know a few brands with genuinely lovely designs. I thought I'd introduce you."
"Lovely brands, you say?"
Cho-young blinked at her, then cocked her head with a sheepish smile.
"Um, you really don't have to go that far for me."
"Oh, come now — meeting like this has to be fate! I just want us to be closer, Cho-young."
"Ah... hmm."
"What's the matter? Worried it'll be expensive?"
Jay flashed her beaming grin, certain she had finally seized the upper hand.
What money could the likes of you possibly have? Just come along, gawk, and keep your mouth shut.
But money was the last thing weighing on Cho-young's mind.
I wonder if they'll even have anything that fits my body?
"It's fine. It's not a very expensive place."
With a wolfish smirk, Jay strode off first, and Cho-young shuffled warily along behind her.
A place like that? As if such a thing even exists...
Where Jay led her was Sector 5 — ground once known as Garosu-gil, the tree-lined shopping boulevard of old Seoul.
Cho-young had never set foot here before, and her jaw dropped of its own accord.
Small wonder.
"Whoa — th-these are all clothing stores? Every single one of them?"
A skyscraper stabbing at the very sky, every floor of which housed a boutique run by one and the same brand.
First time here, obviously. As if a country hick like you has ever seen the inside of a place like this.
Jay glided along on that swell of superiority, drinking in the sight of her.
She tapped her forearm to project her holographic camera, then began waving at the lens.
She was live.
The broadcast had started without a single word of consultation with Cho-young, and Jay could not have cared less.
"Hello, everyone! Guess where I am right now~?"
"That's right — Sector 5!"
"And today, I have a very special guest with me! Someone I'm super close with — someone I just adore!!"
Jay gave a delicate tug at the arm of Cho-young, who was still craning her neck up at the tower.
She fully expected her to be dragged along, helpless as a doll.
?? Wh-what the—?
Not so much as a centimeter of movement. And this despite Cho-young being an old-human, her entire body nothing but living flesh, unlike Jay and her full-body implants.
She simply would not be pulled.
"O-oour guest for todaaay is—!"
She tugged again. Not a twitch.
The corners of Jay's mouth climbing into a spasming grin, she gave up on hauling Cho-young over and swung the camera around instead.
"Ta-daa! The rising star of the moment! My dear stream-junior, Cheon Cho-young!"
Only then did Cho-young turn to face the camera.
Jay's plan went like this.
Spring the stream on her and introduce her as a guest, and Cho-young — utterly unprepared — would panic. Her makeup would be slapdash; her outfit thrown together.
Once she panicked, the battle was half won. After that it was simple: soothe her, prop up her self-esteem; once they were close, drop her into another humiliating spot, then comfort her all over again.
Run that cycle enough times, and Cho-young would become someone who could no longer live without her.
Far-fetched, you say?
Jay had actually steamrolled a whole roster of streamers this exact way. Like frogs in a pot brought slowly to the boil, more than a few had simmered to perfection without ever realizing they were being gaslit.
Her very own signature method — one that broadcast the gulf between her and her mark in flashing neon, all while keeping her own hands spotless!
Jay turned her head to savor the sight of Cho-young's face, which would surely be frozen in panic.
How dare you dream of standing on my level? I'll roast you slow and low...
But.
"Whoa! Jay, you have SO many viewers! Hi, everyone!"
"Lovely to meet you all! Hm? I've got nose hairs? Then I'll just pluck them!"
"Hey, what about you lot? Don't you have nose hairs either? Trimming them every single time — what a chore."
"Oh, there are versions like that? Should I swap out my chest too, then? These things are honestly a bit of a hassle..."
Panic? Not even close — she was cackling away with Jay's own audience.
What... is she?
Jay had wanted her ashamed of an ambush broadcast. Wanted her red-faced and snappish.
Instead, Cho-young was greeting the viewers in her entirely unpolished, everyday skin.
That's even possible? Doesn't a single broadcast take three hours of prep, minimum? And what was that? Nose hairs — just pluck them? Is that something the eleventh-ranked femstreamer on the entire platform gets to say? And you viewers — why are you laughing? Do you like that scrappy little mess of hers?
Impossible. This is not how it works.
If I so much as mentioned plucking my nose hairs, they'd bury me under hate comments about how disgusting I am. So why her? Why does everyone suddenly turn so generous the moment it's Cheon Cho-young?
"Hello?! Jay!"
Jay jolted upright at the sound of her name and lifted her head.
"Come on, let's hurry on in!"
Cho-young was huffing little puffs of breath through her nose, coaxing her toward the doors as though she couldn't wait another second — eager, of all things.
Jay looked at her once, at the tower once, then screwed her eyes tightly shut. She chewed the tangle of thoughts churning inside her down to a pulp and buried it somewhere far away.
That's right. The moment we're inside, that breezy composure of hers will show itself for the lie it is.
Cheon Cho-young. You've held up admirably against me so far. But if you think that's where it ends, you are in for a very rude awakening.
"That's right, let's go in. Everyone, we're heading inside now?"
It was no mere clothing emporium, but a full-service shopping town offering hair styling and makeup besides. Reservations were nearly impossible to land, the prices stratospheric — even Jay had managed to use it exactly once in her life.
Which was precisely why a penniless nobody like Cheon Cho-young would have the spirit stomped out of her the moment she stepped through the doors.
What money could a small-fry streamer who just started her channel possibly have?
Right here, I'll show you the difference between you and me.
...The difference... she had meant to show her.
"Oh, my goodness!! Cheon Cho-young? Is that really you — the Cheon Cho-young?"
The instant the two of them stepped into the town, a clerk murmured something under her breath, then abruptly picked up the phone beneath the counter and dialed somewhere — and in less than five minutes, the owner of the shopping town came bursting out to greet them at a dead sprint.
"You... know me?"
"But of course I do! Oh ho ho! We owe you ever so much!" the owner cried with a wink of one eye.
"Ah! Ahh! Oh. So that's what it was. My, I could sense it somehow. This is no way to greet you — allow me to pay my respects properly. I was terribly rude—"
"Oh, rude, nonsense! You're VIP treatment in our world too, Cho-young — none of that with me, please. Heh heh. If anything, I've climbed a whole stage higher thanks to you. I should be the one thanking you!"
"Kya, now that's a relief to hear! Makes it all worthwhile. Worthwhile indeed."
What in the world was happening?
They clearly hadn't been acquainted before today. And yet the owner seemed to owe Cho-young some manner of debt...
Jay's eyes rolled this way and that. She was thinking. How was she supposed to read this situation — and how could she wrestle it back around?
Even Jay knew a breed of people called Repairers existed. She knew Cheon Cho-young was one of them, too. But she had never once felt their importance in her own bones, so while she knew the word, she had no grasp of what they actually were.
After all, this was a dystopia where some people still went without implants, where no one could say for certain whether a real government even existed, and where humans who'd traded their entire bodies for machinery lived shoulder to shoulder with everyone else — the existence of so-called Repairers was hardly the strangest thing in it.
The vast majority of people belonged to that blurred category — and naturally, so did Jay.
So what if she has connections with the owner? This is still a place where you pay for what you buy. Don't panic. You are Jay. A nobody like Cheon Cho-young isn't even worth your notice.
If there was one gulf separating her from Cho-young that could never be bridged, Jay was certain, it was money.
She had raked in a tidy fortune over the years. Her SNS pulled in steady ad deals, her streams earned her a handsome income, and modeling offers poured in from every direction. Cinch her belt a little tighter, and she could afford one more outfit in this place.
But Cheon Cho-young? A bottom-feeder streamer barely two weeks into her career — half of it, one full week, spent on hiatus without so much as switching her stream on, enough to land her in hot water with her own viewers. How much money could someone like that possibly have? Eleventh in the overall rankings or not, rank did not convert directly into cash.
Now, with this perfect opportunity handed to her, she would show that insolent little bitch exactly what separated them — and make sure she never crawled her way back up again—
"Really? They can tailor clothes to fit my exact body?"
"But of course!"
"So all I have to do is pick the designs?"
"As many as your heart desires."
"Then I'll take one outfit from every single store, from the very end all the way to here!"
...Huh?
I misheard that. Right? I definitely misheard that.
"Everyone! Show our VIP in!"
I really... misheard that... didn't I?