I Can't Stop Me
Watching Haru's stream for the first time was a complete accident.
It was a sleepless dawn, just like any other. I just needed something playing in the background. White noise would have been enough. It wasn't like I was going to fall asleep anyway.
Click, click—. I mindlessly flipped through channels. Then, I stopped.
A late-night karaoke stream. A tiny, obscure channel with barely fifty viewers. A low, lazy voice was singing a song.
Harin was about to habitually click away, but she suddenly froze. It was sweet. Melodious. She found herself wanting to keep listening.
Even when the song ended, she didn't leave. She listened to another. At some point, her eyes drifted shut. For the first time in months, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
She tuned in again the next night. And the night after that. Before she knew it, she had memorized his streaming schedule. She turned on notifications.
At first, she just watched. Then, she typed a message in the chat for the first time.
Haru read it immediately. "Welcome, Rabbit-nim." That was it. Just a simple, ordinary greeting. But her heart fluttered strangely. Why am I like this...?
Harin knew her own condition. Depression. Insomnia. These were ailments she had carried since before her debut. A long period as a trainee. Countless, repeated failures. Even after pivoting to become a VTuber and hitting the jackpot, she still wasn't happy.
She had to hide her face. Only her voice existed. An avatar appeared on screen in her stead. At first, she thought that would be comfortable. It wasn't. Hiding her face only exposed other things to the spotlight. Her voice. Her tone. Her reactions. Her emotions. Everything was relentlessly analyzed, picked apart to suit the whims of the audience.
The timing of her breaths. The sound of her laughter. A mere 0.1-second delay in her response. The viewers caught everything. They dragged things out of thin air if they had to. Every single word she uttered was screenshotted, edited, and stripped of context. Absurd controversies erupted almost daily. Harin's fandom clashed with other fandoms. It was a war every single day.
She tried to ignore it. She tried to look only at the fans who genuinely supported her. But the more successful she became, the more people crawled out of the woodwork to drag her down. Backstabbing and jealousy from colleagues who envied her success were a daily occurrence. Antis showered her with all kinds of threats and abuse. "I'm going to find you and kill you." "I'll livestream myself raping you." They even targeted her family.
No matter how many times she saw those malicious posts, she could never get used to them. At some point, she became terrified of leaving her house. She locked herself in her room, avoiding people entirely. Only then could she breathe, even if just a little.
Yet, the early hours of the morning were still excruciatingly difficult. When her stream ended and she was left utterly alone, the awkward moments from that day's broadcast would flood her mind. Her lack of reaction. Her slurred words. The brief silences. She chewed over each mistake, one by one. How much will they curse me out this time? How many malicious posts will stab into me tomorrow? The quieter her room grew, the more vivid those thoughts became. Those hours dragged on endlessly. Sleep eluded her.
And so, she turned to Haru's stream. There was nothing demanded of her there. No expectations to meet. No persona to maintain. No hardships to endure. Instead, there was only a warm voice. There were songs that comforted her soul. Low, lazy, and incredibly sweet. Listening to him allowed her to breathe. Listening to him made her feel like today's struggles were nothing. Listening to him... no, only by listening to him could she finally fall asleep.
Before she knew it, Haru was the only thing occupying her mind. Even when she streamed in front of tens of thousands of viewers, she thought only of him. A single chamomile tea gifticon from Haru brought her more joy than hundreds of thousands of dollars in revenue.
She knew it was strange. She knew she was severely obsessed. But she couldn't stop, nor did she want to. Without Haru, she couldn't survive a single day.
But why...? There was no stream. Even though his scheduled start time had long since passed. He was someone who was never late. Yet suddenly, without any notice...
Harin sat on her sofa, staring blankly at her phone screen.
It's fine. He must be busy. She put her phone down. Three minutes later, she picked it up again. It was still the same.
It's really fine. It's no big deal. She leaned her head back against the sofa. Staring at the ceiling, she recalled what Haru had told her yesterday.
— I'll check it during tomorrow's stream.
He said tomorrow. He promised tomorrow.
She stood up. She walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and drank it. Returning to the sofa, she picked up her phone. The unread '1' on her direct message was still there. Her finger drifted to the chat box.
She regretted it the instant she sent it. Why did I send that? He's going to find it burdensome. It sounds like I'm nagging him.
She shoved her phone under a sofa cushion. If she couldn't see it, she wouldn't think about it. A minute later, she pulled it back out. The '1' was still there.
It was deep into the night. No stream notification arrived. Harin opened the app again.
She closed it. Opened it again. Offline.
Is he really not streaming today? But he said he would check...
She tossed her phone onto the bed. She stood up and walked to the window, staring outside. Nothing registered in her vision.
He could have just said a single word. He could have just told me there's no stream today.
She returned to the bed and lay down. She picked up her phone. Her fingers moved.
She closed her eyes after sending it. Why do I keep messaging him? It's suffocating. I shouldn't be doing this.
She pulled the blanket over her head. Sleep was impossible. A low, lazy voice echoed in her mind.
— Thank you for coming today.
She needed to hear that voice to sleep.
The next day. Harin was still clutching her phone. Her eyes were bloodshot from staring at the screen all night. Yet, the '1' had still not disappeared. Even though she had stayed up the entire night.
Harin stared at the screen for a long time. Her chest felt tight, her heart squeezing painfully. Her fingers moved to the chat box once more.
She tossed her phone onto the sofa after sending them. But then she picked it up and sent another. And another. What is wrong with me?
She stood up and went to the bathroom. She stood before the mirror. Dark circles. Hollow eyes. Chapped lips.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto her face. She patted it dry with a towel, staring at her reflection. Returning to the sofa, she picked up her phone. Her fingers moved again.
She stared at the screen. Without a single reply, her one-sided messages were piling up endlessly. It was disgusting. She looked like a stalker. It was the exact behavior she detested most. Yet, here she was, doing it herself.
What am I doing? What on earth am I doing?
She felt like she was going to cry. She didn't even know what she was sad about. She just felt tears welling up. She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She tried to hold back, but she was going crazy. Before she knew it, she was typing again.
She put her phone down after sending them. She stared at the ceiling for a long time. She thought she was holding back well, but when she snapped out of it, she was opening the chat window yet again. Only five minutes had passed since her last message. Her fingers trembled, but they didn't stop.
She placed the phone on her chest after sending them. She closed her eyes. She could hear her heartbeat. It was racing. I shouldn't be doing this. I really shouldn't. Even though she knew better, she opened her eyes. She picked up her phone. The '1' remained. She tried to count the number of messages she had sent, but stopped. There were too many.
. . . Time passed. Aimlessly, meaninglessly, every single second agonizingly painful.
Harin curled up on the sofa, her eyes glued to her phone. Before she knew it, she had sent over five hundred messages. Still, there was no reply. She had bitten her nails so raw that bright red blood pooled around her cuticles.
The house was silent. Hummm—. The refrigerator. The air conditioner. That was all. It was so quiet she felt like she was suffocating. She wanted to hear Haru's voice. No. If she didn't hear it right this second, she felt like she would die.
"Haaah—." Harin exhaled deeply and picked up her phone. Her eyes, to put it gently, looked determined; to put it bluntly, she looked a little unhinged. She didn't send any more messages. Instead, she made a call. Im Yuri. She was the head of Harin's agency. She was the most capable person Harin knew, with the widest network of connections.
"Harin-ah. What's up? You calling me first? I'm actually pretty happy about this."
"Unni. Can I ask you for a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Can you find someone for me? Using their IP address."
Silence.
"Do you know what you're saying right now?"
"I do." Her voice came out calmer than expected. She surprised even herself.
"Harin. Are you okay? I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. But still—"
"I'm not okay. So please, Unni. Don't ask me anything. I'm not trying to do anything bad. I'm just... so worried about him. Really."
A long sigh echoed through the receiver.
"Alright. I'll send you a link. But whatever you do, it's going to cost you. He's an incredibly expensive private investigator."
"Thank you, Unni."
It didn't even take half a day. The investigator sent over an address. Even the apartment number was precise. The fee was thirty million won. She didn't regret a single penny of it.
Harin quickly washed her face, pulled a mask on, and tugged her hat low over her eyes. She hailed a taxi and headed straight to Haru's house.
The taxi came to a stop. Harin looked out the window. It was an ordinary residential area. Low-rise buildings. Streetlights. A quiet alleyway.
She paid the fare and stepped out. The dawn air was freezing. She adjusted her mask and pulled her hat down even further. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk.
She entered a low-rise villa. She climbed the stairs. With every step, her legs felt heavier. The higher she climbed, the harder it became to turn back. She knew she was crossing a line. But still...
She stopped in front of the door. She pulled out her phone to double-check the address. The address, the building, the floor, the apartment number—everything matched perfectly. She slipped her phone back into her pocket.
The doorbell was right in front of her. She raised her hand. It was trembling violently.
This isn't stalking. I'm just checking to see if he's alive. I won't even look at his face. Just hearing his voice is enough. I came because I was worried. I don't have any bad intentions. Once I confirm he's okay, I'll leave immediately. Really.
Her finger reached toward the doorbell. It was almost touching it. Her fingertip felt ice-cold. She couldn't tell if it was from the chilly morning air or sheer terror.
One centimeter. Just before she could press it down—that was when it happened.
Thud—. A sound came from inside. Harin's hand froze in midair.
Footsteps. Heavy, slow footsteps. Someone was inside. The footsteps were drawing closer. Toward her. Toward the door.
Wait. Are they coming out? Right now? She couldn't ring the bell. She couldn't run away either. Her mind went completely blank.
The footsteps stopped right in front of the door. One second. Two seconds.
Click—. The doorknob turned. Harin stood frozen in place, utterly trapped.
...!