Thank You!
The viewers' sudden outrage wasn't because Yeoeun-noona had barged in.
Well, perhaps that contributed a tiny bit, but the vast majority of the uproar stemmed from something else entirely.
Evidently, they were burning with envy because I had patted Yeoeun-noona on the bottom while consoling her. The reaction was far more explosive than when I subtly flashed a bit of bare skin. Women in this world truly seemed to derive immense stimulation from that sort of touch.
Are they projecting themselves onto her?
It was difficult to say. While jealous squeals dominated the chat, a few stray comments scolded that family shouldn't behave that way. Conversely, others argued that precisely because we were siblings, everyone could just laugh it off. Above all, not a single viewer genuinely detested what I'd done.
It isn't as if we kissed on screen or anything.
In my previous life, such casual skinship would have been unthinkable. But according to the sensibilities of this world, while it might provoke varied commentary, it crossed no lines. Even right now, they loved every second of it; nobody was hurling actual vitriol at me. Knowing that fact made it all the more natural to lean in.
"Line up your booties, noonas," I said with a teasing smile. "I'll give you all pats too."
One thing was crystal clear: the overwhelming majority of women watching her stream adored me. It was likely akin to a parasocial romance. The adoring praise beneath my social media selfies, the feverish chat messages whenever I appeared on stream—through all of it, I could tangibly feel the affection directed my way. Even though they couldn't meet me in reality, they poured endless interest into my presence, imagining me as their lover or little brother in their daydreams.
So I allowed myself to picture the women sitting beyond the monitor. Ordinary women, not unlike the pleasant customers I served daily at the cafe.
My intuition had hit the bullseye. The playful reply sparked an immediate wave of delighted donations. Watching the bolder yet harmlessly flirtatious comments flood across the screen, a soft chuckle escaped me.
For a brief moment, I had worried that my casual habits might cast a negative shadow over her broadcast. Lingering instincts from my past life had made me question whether I had blundered.
Should I push the envelope a little more?
If anything, pushing back felt like the right strategy now—teasing their jealousy and tickling their longings. Testing the waters step by step would be simple enough. My initial panic over the blazing chat had simply been a novice's lack of broadcasting instinct. Looking back, even the viewers telling us not to act like that as siblings weren't speaking in earnest; they were either playing along with a running joke or venting harmless envy.
After all, what originally convinced me to appear on her stream was spanking her bottom on camera.
If the audience genuinely despised it, this many viewers would never have remained. Though I had used "giving an explanation" as an excuse back then, I knew people had enjoyed the spectacle. Even now, donations were cascading down. In content creation, a passionate uproar was infinitely better than stone-cold indifference. As long as I steered clear of anything truly obscene, it would be fine.
After that brief interlude, the stream found its rhythm. I chatted pleasantly with the viewers while continuing to temper the chocolate. Between monitoring the chat, keeping my hands busy, and chatting effortlessly, multitasking had become second nature.
"Adjust the screen ratio?" I asked smoothly. "If I shrink the countertop any further, you won't be able to see the chocolate being made."
A few persistent viewers kept begging to enlarge my face cam at the expense of the cooking frame, but I turned them down in a mild, polite tone. Just as I playfully held back with Yeoeun-noona, I made sure not to pamper the viewers by granting every whim. A careful dance of push-and-pull, akin to training an eager pet.
Most of the people watching behind that screen are women. Keeping that reality firmly in mind, I handled their demands with measured grace.
"Shall we check the seasoning? Noona, come here for a second."
Adoring me didn't mean they showered me exclusively with delicate, flowery compliments. The second a slip of the tongue escaped my lips, they pounced gleefully to tease me, like mischievous schoolgirls poking fun at a boy they liked.
"I misspoke..." I muttered, deliberately dropping my shoulders into a dejected slump. "I just meant taste-testing."
A few chatters piled on more jokes, while others immediately panicked and softened their tone to console me. My slightest shift in posture dictated the rhythm of the room. Interacting dynamically with so many minds in real time felt unexpectedly invigorating.
It definitely stirs up dormant emotions.
Recalling the revelation I'd had during our last stream, I picked up the silicone spatula. Plenty of melted chocolate still clung to the edges after scraping the mixing bowl clean. Dipping my index finger into the rich brown syrup, I offered it toward Yeoeun-noona as she stepped up beside me.
"Taste it."
"Huh? Like this?"
"Hmm? Oh, my hands are clean. Don't worry."
After a momentary hesitation, Yeoeun-noona suddenly parted her lips and sucked my finger into her mouth.
"Hey! Why did you suck my finger?! Ugh... gross."
"Wait, what? Ah... I just wanted to clean it off completely," she mumbled in a deflated voice when I chided her.
Unsurprisingly, that unscripted gesture ignited another wildfire across the chat. This time, I hadn't planned it in the slightest.
Yeoeun-noona scuttled back to her desk and promptly hammered down bans on several accounts. Among the lewd comments, quite a few had failed the delicate tightrope walk of community guidelines.
Lick.
"It's sweet. Really sweet," I remarked after quickly washing my hands, lifting the spatula and licking off the residual chocolate with the tip of my tongue.
The scrolling speed of the chat suddenly ground to a dead halt.
"Oh, right. I need to use this again. Noona, could you wash this for me?"
While waiting for the first batch in the molds to solidify, I intended to start on the next variety. It would involve a hot water bath, careful tempering, and piping intricate shapes from a pastry bag. That required the spatula, but my own saliva now coated it.
Ding!
Just as I asked her to wash the utensil and reached into the drawer for a spare, a distinctive chime rang out through the speakers.
A mission bounty had been posted.
"This spatula? But my saliva is on it."
It was a bizarrely perverted request. While carrying it out was trivial, accepting it was out of the question. Saliva broke down food enzymes and caused rapid spoilage. Even if chocolate handled moisture differently, there was zero hygienic benefit in using a soiled spatula, which I calmly explained to the camera.
Ding!
An even more degraded request landed on top. Had they completely tuned out my explanation?
It was utterly preposterous. What proved genuinely startling, however, was that a surprising proportion of the chat actively cheered on the mission.
"I'll have to decline both missions," I stated firmly. "This chocolate is meant to be sent out to several different people, so I can't do that. It could cause serious sanitary issues."
I respected private preferences, but I drew the line at compromising hygiene. Since these confections were destined to be boxed and mailed across the country, proper sanitation was paramount.
Ding!
Hearing my refusal, the first chatter simply jacked up the price.
"I still have to decline. The spatula is already submerged in soapy water anyway."
No matter the sum, an impossibility remained an impossibility. Yet the viewer seemed convinced that money was the sole sticking point.
Ding!
The number leapt again. It seemed the viewer was either dense or willfully oblivious.
"The bounty isn't the problem here. I'm sorry."
Still, out of respect for an audience member, I couched my refusal in gentle words. Any person with a shred of social awareness would have backed down by now—much like the chatter who had demanded spit quietly withdrew their mission.
Ding!
Tact was clearly entirely foreign to them.
One viewer relentlessly inflating the purse against me standing unwavering in my refusal. It had devolved into a blatant battle of wills.
"Let's cut it out here," Yeoeun-noona intervened, stepping in to mediate. "That's hardly an appropriate mission to carry out on stream."
She scolded the chatter with an assertive tone and nudged me to carry on with the chocolate. But mere words were evidently not enough to puncture their entitlement.
Ding!
It wasn't as if this were an ego match. I felt I had given more than enough polite reasoning, making this stubborn obstinacy baffling. The phrasing carried an unmistakably hostile, condescending undertone. Even the surrounding chat, disgusted by the arrogant display, began cursing the user out in droves.
"Whew... Guess there's no helping it."
Yeoeun-noona's expression hardened as she reached for her mouse to ban the offender permanently.
At that exact second, accompanied by a thunderous, majestic fanfare, a donation of an astronomical magnitude hitherto unseen on the platform shattered across the screen.
Seeing that exceedingly familiar name materialize, the corners of my lips curled upward into an instinctive, fond smile.