They Didn't Turn on Them. They Opened Their Eyes.

"More useful than I expected, Manager Kim."

"Tell me about it. Somehow it feels like I worked straight through to midnight."

Every light had gone out in the offices of Piapia, the famous fiction platform.

"A holiday shift, and overtime on top of it. How much extra pay is that even going to come to?"

"TenMilKick Manager Kim, worrying about money? You were throwing donations around earlier."

"..."

They were riding the elevator down, and the junior had acquired a real taste for needling Manager Kim.

"Your whole philosophy comes through beautifully in that username. The novel doesn't swing—hee hee."

"You can look forward to a meeting with HR."

"Sorry."

It was only small talk, but Manager Kim couldn't shake the sense that something was off. He'd read Hananyan's post exposing the AI novels. From how cleanly it was put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together, he'd figured she was someone inside the industry.

"What do you think?"

"Come on. How's a high schooler supposed to be industry?"

The junior laughed like the idea was absurd. Even so, Manager Kim's suspicion refused to leave.

"You really think a seventeen-year-old could pull that off?"

"You know how smart kids are these days."

The junior dug at his ear as if it were nothing. They reached the smoking area on the first floor and lit up together, and he kept checking his phone. Midnight had passed. Today had well and truly become Chuseok, the harvest holiday.

"It's Chuseok. What'd you get your parents?"

"That seller Hananyan pointed out earlier. I'd bought from them too, so I refunded it on the spot and got something else."

"You bought from them too?"

"They hammer ads all over Shorts and Insta. You're old, so you probably wouldn't know."

"...I watch Shorts."

The little ball Hananyan had tossed up was quietly saving people who would otherwise have been victims.

"I don't know if they'll keep streaming, but I think I'll keep watching. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kinda cute, honestly."

"You really are... never mind."

Manager Kim laughed. If she really was a seventeen-year-old, she was a pretty admirable one.

"Maybe I should call a reporter I know."

He wanted to help, even faintly. Not with some pathetic donation, but by drawing a great deal more attention her way.

The junior, though, who mostly kept up with young(?) streamers, saw it differently.

"Kids like that get famous all at once and the pressure makes them quit streaming, don't they? Odds are they thought of a single bit of material and never considered what comes after. You'd be better off dropping a donation and tossing them some topics ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠while you're at it."

A tremendous idea, and the improvised start that came of it. None of that guaranteed they'd last. The junior knew as much, and hearing him out, Manager Kim had to agree. He chose a different kind of help instead.

Maybe it'd do some good for both that streamer kid and my friend.

A singer who had ended up running a tteokbokki shop—spicy rice cakes and all—after vocal nodules and an agency's abuse. He decided he would pass along the story of that old friend.

"Hm. I learned something from you today. Thanks."

He offered the unreliable junior an awkward gratitude.

"Ehehe, Novel Gallery's on fire. Oh, a Hananyan gallery popped up too?"

"You little shit?"

It didn't seem to have reached the junior's ears at all. So Manager Kim caught that ear and twisted.

"GYAAAAH!"

"It was a good idea. Thanks. Have a good Chuseok."

"Senior? You're coming in tomorrow too, right? Piapia's supposed to keep the lights on twenty-four hours, you know?"

"Ah."

He accepted the horrific reality of working on the day of Chuseok itself.

"I made a hundred thirty thousand won in a single day?"

It wasn't what she'd made back when she worked at a company, but she'd earned it, in her own way. So this was why kids wrote "streamer" down as their dream job.

There was just one problem.

"I'm out of material..."

Putting up content and going live every single day was impossible. She wasn't some outrage-farming react channel; the digging took work, one way or another. So what was she supposed to do?

"I may not have studied at all in this life, but..."

She had to study the way she had in her previous one. She had to study how the world actually worked, and she had to study it hard.

She hadn't wanted to study. She'd wanted an easy life. Even so, the result had at least covered her cigarettes. Not a bad feeling.

She went back to her room and dove onto the bed. The cushion, steeped in cigarette smoke, was lovely. Lying there, she turned her phone on.

"They didn't actually fire off a Nyanster Call, did they?"

When a particular streamer's viewers roll out to terrorize someplace, that's a Buster Call. Slap the streamer's name on the front and you get an X-ster Call.

"Oh."

The Nyanster Call's coordinates were locked on Manihana Wave. The rating had definitely been 4.86.

"It's in the threes?"

It had fallen all the way to 3.11, and the inquiries and reviews were still flooding in. Watching Manihana Wave drop straight into the abyss in real time, she figured this one wouldn't be around much longer either.

"Doona. I did all right, didn't I?"

She asked Doona. A dark room, and dawn, with nothing but the phone screen shedding a faint light. Somehow she had the feeling the girl was smiling for her.

Snrrk. Snrrk.

"Doona, what time is it even..."

Ugh.

Morning, and her eyes opened in a daze. Get it together. Live like a solid citizen.

Therefore, the first order of business the moment she was up: stretching. She worked the knotted muscle along her shoulder blade loose and dropped onto the sofa.

"Guess I'll research some content."

When she'd go live again was still undecided. Even so, better than turning the stream on with nothing, right? You need at least a little something to chew on if you're going to talk to the viewers.

So she turned on the TV.

"A girl's gotta eat, doesn't she...?"

She flipped through the news, this way and that. And then—

"Huh?"

The morning news was running a piece ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on Chuseok holiday scams.

"This isn't because of me... is it?"

Fortunately, there was no mention of her. The reporter's words, though, had a way of poking her right where it stung.

"Um... Reporter?"

"It's not that public opinion got worse. People opened their eyes."

If you're going to say it, get the facts straight. Still, it was satisfying in its own way. How much could bastards like that have made, selling worthless fruit at a premium? A whole building, at least.

"Meanwhile an upright human being like me lives like this."

A pointless despair made her want to chew on something. It was Chuseok, sort of. Maybe an apple, or a pear. She did like fruit, after all—so long as it wasn't sitting on top of other food.

"Something has to go into the stomach before it can be equivalent-exchanged into energy..."

She grabbed her wallet. There was debt, sure, but there was money in the account for the moment. Allowance from Doona, but still. Nearly all of it had gone to gacha games and delivery food, and some was left.

"Right. When a thought hits, you act!"

Hat, mask, cardigan: the default loadout. She squared her shoulders with dignity and headed for the front door.

Click. Thud.

...?

What?

Something in front of the door kept it from opening all the way. She thought a package had come and lifted her head.

"Uh... Ms. Baek Seoyeon?"

Why are you coming out of there? This is my house.

Being short was already miserable enough, and Baek Seoyeon was looking down at her like something frightening.

"Ms. Hana. You streamed yesterday."

? What kind of move is this?

Maybe she was simply too dumbfounded. There was nothing worth acting out; her face just went blank.

"What? No—more importantly, it's Chuseok. Why aren't you off seeing your parents? What are you doing here?"

"These days there isn't really any need to go see your parents... hup."

She stopped mid-sentence and covered her mouth. She knew she'd slipped. Why? Because Hana was an orphan. Going to see your parents or not—the option itself didn't exist.

"I... should have gone to see them. I'm sorry."

Even Baek Seoyeon, a certified repeat offender in the field of rudeness, didn't stoop to jokes about people's parents.

"More to the point, I saw you streaming under the name Hananyan."

She went on. She even knew the username. Never mind that—why was she watching streams? She had a hobby like that?

So the answer Hana had to give, here, was this. A shrug, and play dumb.

"What's that?"

Then she brushed past her. On the way out, Seoyeon stuck to her heels.

"I saw you doing it in Doona's headset. That's the one I gave her...!"

Just following her was already enough to make Hana wonder whether to call the police. Of all things, Seoyeon grabbed her shoulder, hard.

"I said I don't know!"

She shoved her off. Maybe the motion had been too big. That was the problem.

"Koff... ugh..."

A frail constitution really was the worst possible character trait.

"Hey... hello? Ms. Lee Hana? Hana!"

"Pwah—!"

This body, revived! She opened her eyes on that note. She'd expected a hospital at least, but she was lying on the living room sofa. Had it been a dream?

"Ah, you're awake. That's... a relief, and I'm sorry."

Not a dream. Baek Seoyeon even had her head bowed low in apology. This felt better than expected. A glance at the clock said it was lunchtime, of all things.

"I'm still not over it, for the record."

"Uh... is there anything you need?"

"I kind of want chicken..."

Wasn't expensive chicken better than expensive fruit? There was protein, and so on, and so forth.

"One moment."

In the end the woman with the money ordered chicken. The moment it arrived, Hana lunged in and tore at it. She'd said chicken without really thinking it through.

"Ms. Baek, you take both drumsticks."

"What? You don't like drumsticks?"

"Give me the breast."

"You're taste-deaf."

"...?"

Somewhere in the eating her appetite left her, so she decided she'd only have the breast. They picked the chicken apart in silence, each stealing looks at the other's face. Soon Baek Seoyeon, having stripped both drumsticks clean, spoke.

"That cat-ear headset. I'm the one who gave it to Doona as a gift."

Deny it all she liked, Seoyeon seemed convinced she was Hananyan. Which figured. If it were someone who didn't know her at all, maybe. But Seoyeon had seen her just yesterday. Mask on, body hidden under the cardigan, sure—but there was no way a mask hid everything when she hadn't even changed her voice.

And she's quick on the uptake, too.

Lying wouldn't mean a thing. So she changed the subject.

"There must have been an age gap. Sounds like you and Doona got along."

"You know my age, too? Yesterday it seemed like you didn't know me at all..."

Wow. She won't even let a thing slide. You lunatic, you're picking at that too?

The longer a silence stretches, the deeper suspicion gets. Powered by chicken, she spun her thoughts up to speed.

The truth is, I knew you in my past life.

Rejected.

I'm actually a shaman, so I asked Doona.

Cracking a garbage joke in front of her with Doona's name on it felt wrong. So she put her body up instead. She was sick. What was anyone going to do about it?

"I heard it from Doona, before. My health's bad, so my memory comes and goes."

Seoyeon's eyebrow twitched. Maybe she was remembering that Hana had passed out because of her.

"Ah... I see."

This time she accepted it without another word, and an awkward silence came back. She only let her eyes wander, until they seemed to land on the trash bags stacked high.

"Isn't it hard, living on your own?"

She asked it the way you'd comfort an old woman living alone.

"What can you do. Me being alone is a fact."

Hana answered evenly. In that instant Seoyeon's eyes began to shine, and out of nowhere she clapped.

"From now on I'll come by every weekend and cook for you!"

Doona, what is she saying? If you're listening, give me the right answer! Why is Baek Seoyeon like this!

"You... seem to work at Lonabel. Aren't you busy?"

"If you're competent at a company, they usually pile more work on you and you get busy."

She said something obvious. What followed was not.

"But if you're competent past anything anyone imagined, nobody touches your clock-out time or your days off."

A-rank talent, they try to work to the bone however they can. S-rank talent handles itself so well that nobody lays a finger on it. Bother them for no reason and they walk. Plenty of overseas firms will pay them by the truckload. So that was the logic.

"Mm."

Well, she was a genius white-hat hacker. She'd even gotten Lonabel into information-security work with the government...

"I'll decline."

Was she supposed to just allow Baek Seoyeon over every weekend? It wasn't a question of shame. Why should a lifelong hikikomori keep a weekend housekeeper? A true shut-in is alone in the house.

"Is there a reason?"

"I don't like people coming over."

She dropped the hint. The habitual offender in rudeness did not stop there.

"Your health is already poor. If something happened to you while you were alone, Doona would be even sadder."

"I can look after myself."

"Do you mean that?"

Seoyeon shrugged and looked around. Dishes left undone. Trash bags stuffed with cigarette butts. Shelves furred with dust. A refrigerator on its way to empty.

Surviving means you're strong. She'd made it through even in an environment like this? Then she was doing a fine job of looking after herself.

"And there's the streaming, too..."

Maybe because Hana hadn't given her a straight answer earlier, the words landed a little relentless. Nothing else for it. She bit into a piece of chicken breast and answered.

"Yes. I'm that person."

Whether the question had cleared or not, Seoyeon let out a long breath.

"Why are you doing something like that?"

What was left to hide. She'd already been caught.

"To screw over scammers and make money."

"Looking like that?"

"I was going to be a VTuber. Bought a nekomimi-chan model and everything, and then I had a broadcast disaster in one second. Yes."

"What?!"

Hadn't she watched the stream anyway? For all that, Baek Seoyeon looked more shocked than expected.

"What's so shocking about that?"

"No, it's... you said nekomimi... you bought a model? Aren't those expensive?"

What. That was the part?

"They were selling it for five thousand won."

A flat little board of a thing, five hundred won pricier than a pack of cigarettes. When she said so, Baek Seoyeon looked away and cleared her throat.

"I... see."

Huh? Her face had gone red.