Christmas Eve Broadcast from Paris

The world of so-called “talent and physical arts” — singers, idols, athletes, fashion models, and the like — is one where going solo on every schedule is usually impossible. After all, these people have honed their specialized skills to the extreme. Most of them know next to nothing about ordinary life, and they’re far too busy to handle every little detail themselves. That goes for me, too. I may have thick bones from years in the modeling industry, but I’m still completely hopeless when it comes to managing my own schedule. That’s why I always need a manager. Or maybe I’m hopeless because I always have a manager following me around. Either way.

When I was little, my mom was my manager. At some point, my modeling tutor started taking care of me like one. Then, after I signed with my previous brand and suddenly found myself mainly on the international stage, I hired a proper manager. “Ahyeon!” And that person is the one waving at me right now — my manager, Roselia.

She’s a French woman in her late thirties. As a bonus, she’s fluent in French, Korean, and English, so she doubles as my translator. Some might wonder why someone like her would work as a manager, but Roselia is an acquaintance of my mother. After she married a Korean man and settled in Korea, she was looking for work. My mom introduced her to the job. So she’s both my mom’s friend and my manager.

“Give me the carrier!”

“Yes ma’am.”

I obediently handed the carrier over at Roselia’s words. Someone might grumble that a model shouldn’t make her manager do everything, or ask if I think I’m some kind of queen. But Roselia is about the same height as me yet easily twice my size, and she’s a former French Army officer. According to her, she gets anxious watching “baby Ahyeon who looks like she’d snap if you poked her” dragging a heavy carrier around.

“I’ve taken care of all the formalities, so you can just rest, Ahyeon.”

“Thank you.”

Right now, the two of us are alone at the airport. The date is December 24th — Christmas Eve. Normally I’d be streaming while watching the streets explode with every color under the sun through the internet, but here we are. I let out a long sigh.

Depressing. So depressing.

If it weren’t for the party Andel arranged, I would’ve ignored any invitation. But what can I do? In this industry, models are the weak party and brands are the strong. If I don’t like it, I can always quit and launch my own brand as a fashion designer.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been to Paris, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. You must be happy, Roselia.”

“I am.”

Unlike me, Roselia seemed excited to visit her homeland after so long. Makes sense. Korea is a foreign country to her, so returning home for a holiday like Christmas must feel nice. Still, the silver lining was that the other side had taken care of almost everything for us. Since we were about to stamp the contract, just as we were mindful of Andel, the brand had been mindful of us too. They’d reserved business-class tickets on a private plane for me and Roselia, plus a luxury hotel.

“The room is incredible.”

“Whoa… it’s really nice.”

After a flight of over ten hours, we arrived at the hotel. We unpacked while marveling at the view through the huge windows — the snow-covered Christmas cityscape spread out below. If I weren’t streaming tonight, I might’ve actually gotten excited about a proper vacation.

“Are you going to rest in the room?”

“Yes. Do you want to go sightseeing?”

“Mm, is that okay?”

“I’m not going out anyway, so just buy me some snacks on your way back.”

Roselia’s personality meant she’d probably want to go out together, but since I had zero motivation, I flopped straight onto the bed. If I was attending a party in the evening and streaming at night, I needed to sleep now. Plus, the long flight had left me exhausted.

“Then I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Okay.”

With that, Roselia headed out. Alone in the room, I closed my eyes on the soft, fluffy bed.

*

When I opened my eyes again, I heard the hotel door open.

“Ahyeon! Are you awake?”

It was Roselia’s voice. I got up from the bedroom and peeked out to see her coming in with her arms full of shopping bags.

“Come sit down! It took longer than I thought!”

“Huh?”

Still half-asleep, I was rubbing my eyes when Roselia grabbed me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with that typical bold Western touch and dragged me over.

“Eek.”

The weight difference was huge, so I was pulled along and promptly sat down in front of the vanity.

“You can’t just show up at the party like that, can you?”

“I thought I could just go…”

“No way!”

Roselia, who was fluent in three languages and incredibly capable, was also great at doing makeup. With skilled hands, she powdered and painted my face before the party. After she finished slapping on the makeup and I changed into the dress she’d prepared in advance—

“Ahyeon is the star of the show today!”

Just like Roselia said, I strode in with the energy of someone ready to devour the entire party. After two hours of nonstop networking and flattery, I returned to the hotel.

“Ahyeon, are you okay?”

“....”

It was just turning into night. After a shower, I collapsed limply onto the bed.

“I have to attend again tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. Tomorrow’s the main event.”

The party hall packed with people, the endless stream of foreign languages, and the occasional familiar faces whose names I’d only ever heard in the industry — it was a headache-inducing event roughly three times harder than a normal party. And today had only been the tutorial. The real main party was tomorrow. I couldn’t help but sigh. At least the afternoon schedule meant I didn’t have to go to bed early today. That was a relief.

Tap. Tap-tap.

Well, even if I had planned to sleep early, I would’ve stayed up late anyway. I picked up my phone and started preparing to go live. As promised, I had to turn on the Christmas Eve stream.

“I’m going to start the broadcast now.”

“That thing you mentioned last time?”

“Yes.”

I had already told Roselia. She was one of the few people who knew I did internet streaming. As my manager, there was no way I could hide it from her anyway. I placed my phone face-down on the table so my face wouldn’t show, then tapped the screen to begin the stream.

Viewers flooded in at an alarming rate. Well, what else were people supposed to do on Christmas? It’s surprisingly common for a couple’s special day to become someone else’s quiet holiday.

“Hello everyone. Merry Christmas.”

“What… of course it’s live. And were you all just waiting? The viewer count is climbing way too fast.”

It was twice, no, three or four times faster than usual. Since I’d given advance notice, the regular viewers and community users must have been on standby.

“You’re streaming?”

I was broadcasting from the bedroom, and the sight must have intrigued her, because Roselia lingered by the door.

Roselia was an incredibly competent manager who spoke three languages and had salon-level styling skills. But her usefulness didn’t stop there.

“Yes, I just started.”

“Oh… where’s the camera pointing?”

“It’s only showing the tabletop, so don’t worry.”

I had emphasized about eight times that she must never mention my name. Since she was sharp, she wouldn’t forget something I’d stressed so heavily. Besides, I’d told her beforehand that she could come close while the stream was on.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

That was fine, because her voice would be positive for the stream. Roselia’s voice was ordinary, but the important part was that it was a woman’s voice. Given the timing, some viewers had probably been nervously wondering if Wayo is with a guy right now? Her presence would reassure them a little.

“She’s a coworker. We’re in the same room.”

“She doesn’t know much about internet streaming, so it’s fine.”

Roselia was someone who knew absolutely nothing about livestreaming. She was a normal person who was about ten thousand light-years away from the internet. Even while I was streaming like this, the chances of her looking up “Wayo” were extremely low.

“This is interesting…”

She peeked around a few times before disappearing. Given her upright habits, she’d probably go to bed early.

“Anyway, that’s enough, right?”

“I don’t have anything to do…”

More importantly, I’d turned on the stream but had nothing prepared. After all, Wayo was a variety-game VTuber. With a computer I was unbeatable — basically Gojo Satoru — but without one, I was no different from a baby left by the water.

“Hmm… hmm…”

All of those were impossible. Having a late-night snack the day before the main party? That would be crazy. As for a walk, I was in the streets of France, and the viewers didn’t know I was overseas. I hadn’t told them on purpose. Even if they did know I was on a business trip to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠France, the chance they’d figure out who I was was basically zero. Honestly, as long as my face didn’t appear, there was no hint that could lead them to me. The gap between model Ahyeon and Wayo was that enormous. If someone wrote “Isn’t Wayo actually a model by day?” on the community, the Wagikyeon would beat them like a dusty rug on a rainy day.

After thinking about what to do, I had a good idea.

“Ah, should I read some stories from you guys?”

If I couldn’t create content myself, I could just leave it to the viewers. That’s why we’re friends, right? I figured we had a close enough relationship where we helped each other on stream and provided entertainment.

“You all must have stories about spending Christmas Eve alone watching streams, right? Send them in.”

“First come, first served. Donations are hard to see right now, so post them in the cafe.”

The hotel had good soundproofing, right? I hoped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it wouldn’t disturb Roselia sleeping in the next room.

“You all posted them anyway, huh? Let’s see… ‘Park Kyung-sik, 27-year-old lifelong solo from Incheon…’”

That night, I stayed up late reading the viewers’ heartbreaking stories before falling asleep. The next day, I attended the main party.