Live on Air
“I’ll be heading out now.”
“Get home safe!”
After trading farewells, I stepped out of the cafe. Boss stood by the counter, waving with a flushed, rosy face. That flush was entirely my doing, given that I had spent the last several minutes letting my hands roam over her body in the empty shop. With no customers around, I had indulged in a little light fondling.
Even after we crossed that line, Boss never made things uncomfortable. She remained as warm and courteous as ever, maintaining a respectable boundary.
Though it wasn’t quite like that at first.
When I arrived for work on Tuesday, she had asked outright if there was anything I wanted from her. I told her there wasn't, but her behavior stayed bizarre all morning. She refused to let me touch a broom, and she must have asked half a dozen times whether the part-time shift was cutting into my study hours. The way she fussed over me felt uncannily like Leehyun-noona.
So, during the afternoon break, I set the record straight. I told her I preferred being treated the way we used to treat each other. I didn’t mean we should pretend nothing had happened, only that our dynamic didn't need to change.
‘All right… I’ll do my best to match your pace,’ she had replied.
I had no way of knowing what was running through her head, but from that afternoon onward, she returned to her usual self. She was caring, yet careful not to smother me with excessive consideration. Two days had passed since then, and my hours at the cafe had grown considerably more enjoyable. Our professional rhythm remained intact, yet she never pulled away whenever my hands grew bold. At the time, of course, I failed to grasp the true depth of what she felt.
I arrived home in record time. Lately, I had been taking the shortcut Dajeong showed me, which shaved about five minutes off my commute.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
“You’re back?”
“I’m home.”
Hearing the electronic chime of the door lock, Yeoeun-noona came thundering down the stairs from the second floor. She looked less like a welcoming puppy and more like an overgrown Great Dane eager to bowl over its owner.
“Everything go okay today?”
“Yeah.”
She watched intently as I slipped off my shoes. The moment I straightened up and crossed into the living room, she threw her arms around me in an exuberant hug. I reached around and petted her like an obedient pet, though my hands gravitated toward rather different regions than a dog would appreciate.
“Got plenty of energy today, Noona?”
“Huh? Oh… well, you’re just so light.”
“Then carry me up to the second floor.”
Clearly delighted by my touch, she flushed, scooped me up without hesitation, and lifted me clean off the floor. Dangling from her arms, I wrapped my limbs securely around her waist and shoulders, settling into a comfortable perch.
“Are you really sure you don’t want to stop by a salon? We still have plenty of time.”
“No, I'm good. Stop asking.”
She was fretting over whether I needed professional hair and makeup, an ironic concern given that she rarely bothered with either. In this world, women invested heavily in self-adornment: cosmetics, fashion, accessories, and intense physical conditioning to keep their figures tight. The dedication with which women groomed themselves to earn the favor of the scarce male population bordered on sacred reverence. Naturally, the degree varied from person to person.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted. “Showing your natural side will probably come across much better.”
“Exactly. If you’re wearing sweatpants and I show up dolled up like an idol, it’ll look ridiculous.”
“Hey! I told you, I’m actually dressing up properly today!”
Men in this society weren't immune to vanity either. Though fundamental gender traits were inverted compared to my previous life, human nature remained remarkably consistent. Plenty of men painstakingly styled themselves to attract wealthier, more capable women, or for career advancement. The most prominent examples were the male cam streamers, the namcam broadcasters.
Their grooming went far beyond making a pleasant first impression; they fought tooth and nail to survive the cutthroat competition. While some stopped at blowouts and skincare routines, many went full tilt with elaborate color makeup. I, on the other hand, had zero intention of touching cosmetics, and Yeoeun-noona had agreed. We had concluded during testing that my face required neither makeup nor digital filters.
“Put me down now.”
“Okay. You read through everything I sent you, right?”
“Yeah, went through all of it. But I’m not going to lie about anything.”
“Mmm… fine. If any question puts you on the spot, just ignore it. I’ll be moderating hard and cutting out the weirdos, so don't worry too much.”
Over the past two days, we had put in serious groundwork: selecting outfits, overhauling her stream setup, and running test recordings. The camera test proved that my natural features were practically a cheat code; even under modest lighting, not a single blemish or pore showed up on screen. In fact, calibrating the camera settings to suit my complexion had forced Yeoeun-noona to apply makeup herself just to avoid being completely washed out beside me.
“Go get ready, then. You know you take forever with makeup.”
“I’m on it! I’m only doing light base coverage anyway, so it won’t take long.”
We had memorized all the essential platform guidelines and planned out how to engage with the audience. I couldn't simply wave and disappear, after all. Given how many people were burning with curiosity about me, we had compiled a list of anticipated questions. Our bait-and-switch strategy had worked wonders; the links Noona had sent me revealed an astonishing volume of community posts and comments trying to deduce my identity.
“Get dressed, and I’ll see you in a bit!”
“Got it. See you soon.”
As she stepped out of my room, I finally changed into my stream outfit. Today was the day I made my official debut on her broadcast.
Yeoeun-noona’s stream went live. I logged into the Pajijik platform using the account I had created earlier to gauge the chat's mood. The stream title explicitly declared that a special guest would be appearing.
“He’ll be joining us later tonight,” she announced to the viewers.
I ate an early dinner while watching the feed. Decked out in clean makeup and an elegant one-piece dress, Noona flashed a bright smile toward the camera. It was my first time seeing her dressed up so primly, and even shrunken down into the corner of the stream layout, she looked remarkably pretty. The chat atmosphere was receptive and upbeat.
“It’s guaranteed, guys. He promised he’d come on. So let me play a round of games first, okay? Got to clear my sponsored content.”
Originally, we had planned to drag out the anticipation until the weekend. However, Noona pointed out that this weekend clashed with the finals of Korea's most popular esports league, which would cannibalize the viewer base. Furthermore, Friday nights typically saw a minor dip in general viewership. That left tonight—Thursday night—as the optimal slot.
Bzzz.
Just as I was scraping up the last bites of dinner, a message arrived from Leehyun-noona. Her dinner break had just begun, and we slipped into our usual casual banter.
Every time I hit send, a reply pinged back within ten seconds. Whenever I texted Leehyun-noona, I had to give the conversation my undivided attention.
Before I could even type a reply, my phone lit up with an incoming call. I answered and explained that I would be appearing as a guest on Yeoeun-noona’s private livestream.
“Oh, really?! I know you’ll do amazing, Jeongseo! Fighting!”
“Thank you, Noona. Enjoy your dinner.”
After wrapping up the call, I set out Yeoeun-noona’s meal. While she ate, I washed the dishes and completed my final grooming checks. Though I hadn't applied makeup, I made sure my appearance was immaculate, tidying my eyebrows and styling my hair to perfection. Since this would be my first time stepping before a live public audience, I wanted to put my best foot forward.
“Ready?”
I gave a firm nod. Yeoeun-noona patted my shoulder encouragingly and entered the room ahead of me.
“This layout should be fine, right?” she muttered to her audience.
I stepped inside, lingering out of camera range while she dragged the chair from my room and placed it directly beside her desk.
“All set! Everyone, please welcome my younger brother!”
She turned toward me with a wide grin. Keeping my eyes on the streaming chat scrolling rapidly past, I walked into the camera frame. On the monitoring display, Noona sat in her chair while I stood beside her, with the shot currently framing me only from the shoulders down.
The text flew past at an astonishing rate. The concurrent viewer count climbed aggressively, blasting past three hundred within seconds.
“Hello. I’m Eun Yeoeun’s younger brother, Seo Jeongseo.”
I gave a polite, measured bow and settled into the chair. Just like Noona, I used my real name for the stream. As I sat down, my full face came clearly into view. I glanced toward the preview feed to inspect myself; everything appeared crisp and perfectly balanced.
“Huh? Noona? Did the stream freeze?”
My appearance was fine, but the broadcast itself seemed to have hit an abrupt wall—right in the middle of my opening introduction, no less.
“Wait, what happened?”
“I’m still moving on the screen, though.”
I waved toward the web camera. The video feed mirrored my gesture flawlessly. It wasn't the stream that had died; the chat window had simply locked up entirely.
“Hold on a second… it’s never done this before.”
Noona pushed back from her chair, leaned over her keyboard, and began checking her software settings. I leaned back slightly to give her room to work.
Ding-dong!
A crisp chime rang out from the speakers—the unmistakable donation fanfare of Pajijik.
“Move out of the way, you bitch.”
“Wait, what?!”
Shocked by the blunt automated voice reading out the donation, Noona leaped a step backward. Her sudden retreat left the camera frame wide open, centering the shot directly on me.
“Hello, everyone.”
I offered a gentle, poised smile to the camera. In that very instant, the paralyzed chat window broke free, erupting in an unstoppable avalanche of white-hot text.