Donation (2)
How much money was that, really?
Even with the minimum wage having climbed a long way from the old days, it still didn't break ten thousand won an hour. Do the simple math and it meant that even a hundred hours of minimum-wage work would struggle to produce a million won.
And I had just been handed that kind of money in a single donation. My first donation ever, no less.
Chat exploded right along with the donation.
"Ah…"
What was I supposed to do? My head was a mess. I was happy—of course I was happy—but I couldn't get a reaction out to save my life.
When a streamer gets a donation, they show their gratitude. The bigger the amount, the bigger and more over-the-top the reaction tends to be, and viewers eat that up. People usually call that little exchange a donation reaction.
So what kind of reaction was a nobody streamer who could barely scrape together a ten-thousand-won donation supposed to give when a million won landed in her lap?
I didn't know the answer either. I'd never seen a situation like this. If I knew the right answer, I wouldn't have been sitting there in a daze.
I couldn't just sit there slack-jawed and silent, though. So I opened my mouth at random and started stumbling through whatever came out.
"Z-ZIA-nim. Um. Thank you so much for the donation. So, uh… Etto. Watashi didn't misread that, right?"
Just to be sure, I put a finger to the monitor and counted the zeros again.
"Ichi, ni, san…"
Same as before. Six zeros, exactly.
"Hyakuman won."
"It's honto ni a million won! Oh my goodness… Arigatou gozaimasu!"
"Eh, a donation line?"
Most streamers, when the money comes in, thank people with a catchphrase or a pose that screams their brand. A really good donation line can turn into a meme all by itself—viewers will keep donating just to hear it again.
The problem was, I didn't have a donation line ready yet…
No. I still have to do it! I couldn't just sit there with my mouth shut and use "I don't have one" as an excuse!
"A hundred-thousand-yen donation… Anata, daisuki…!"
Even after everything that had changed, even with the new tolerance I'd built up for cringey lines like that, this one was a little much.
Anyway. I'd gotten through it!
So why wasn't the quest completion popping up?
I scanned the chat. Viewers were going wild in every direction, good and bad—but the person the reaction had actually been for, the donor named ZIA, wasn't saying a word.
I opened my mouth again, carefully.
"…If there's anything Zia-sama would like, please tell me. Watashi can do anything for anata!"
I flicked my eyes back and forth through the tide of chat, hunting for ZIA's name.
I don't really want anything in particular, but do you take game requests?
Unbelievable.
This person was operating on a completely different plane from ordinary human beings. There weren't even that many viewers—typing in chat wouldn't have been a problem at all—and yet they insisted on communicating exclusively through donations. That kind of swagger! And the amount was never less than a hundred thousand won.
I wanted to learn from that. How much money did you even have to have to live like this?
"Mochiron! Just name the game!"
Then horror game all-clear. Go.
"…De?"
My soul briefly left my body.
…They'd hit me in the back of the head with that one!
Chat went nuclear.
I'd already said the words. I couldn't take them back. I'd taken in 1,300,000 won; if I just swallowed the money and bailed, the damage to my image would be catastrophic. The second I'd asked if there was anything they wanted, there'd only ever been one option left.
I answered in a voice that was already dying.
"…Ryoukai."
I had no intention of doing it today, of course.
"Then tomorrow I shall return with a horror game… all-cleeeear challenge."
I'd already gone well past my usual stream time. I shoved the whole thing to tomorrow by any means necessary and started angling for a sign-off.
Come to think of it, the viewer count had set another record. Ninety-one people this time! Watching that number climb put the life back in me all over again.
"Minna! Today's stream was packed, right? Watashi knows it too~ All right, it's just about bye-bye time~"
"Minna sayonara~ Mata ashita!"
Staring at the stream-ended screen, I let out a long breath. Today had been another thoroughly eventful broadcast.
Still, I could feel my skills improving, and the viewer count climbing with them. I always signed off with that warm, proud little feeling in my chest. Lucia had said the channel's growth was unusually fast—fast enough that I was starting to hope I might make it even without some aggressive breakout strategy.
She credited it to a distinctive, rock-solid character concept, and I agreed, at least in part. Even I had to admit Hana-chan was a little unusual.
The moment the stream ended, Lucia messaged me on KakaoTalk, same as always.
I thought we were going to wrap up on that warm little exchange of compliments. Then she brought up the awkward part first.
Even if it had been empty praise, hearing it still felt good. And our manager wasn't the type to say things she didn't mean. So it really had been good!
I tried hypnotizing myself with that thought.
She was right.
What job was closest in temperament to a streamer's? Celebrities on TV, obviously—variety performers, more than anyone. If a comedian got up in front of people and was too embarrassed to be funny, could they ever become a great comedian? Not a chance. In the same way, a streamer had a duty to set the shame down and make the viewers happy. Filling that satisfaction through conversation, through the simple act of watching—that was the job.
Talking with my manager always left me with something to learn. Was that just what being a pro meant? I suddenly wondered what would happen if Lucia debuted as a streamer herself.
Hmm…
She'd probably do pretty well, right? I couldn't say for sure, but still.
After that, the KakaoTalk drifted into something more like idle chatter.
I was glad I'd brought it up. I thought it over for a moment. According to Lucia, if you were going by performance alone, a booth was the best option.
The problem, as always, was the price…
In the end, we landed on putting the soundproofing on hold. A booth was the only option that was truly reliable, so there was no rush until I had the money to spare. If the problem ever started to feel serious, I could revisit it then.
Anyway, the second the stream was over, I changed jobs. I stepped down from being a streamer and put my viewer hat back on.
The streamer I was watching tonight was, of course, Jjangjjangwang. I especially needed to pay attention today—because today was the day the accepted guest-spot applicants would be announced.
There was a chance I'd gotten cut, of course. Even so, I had confidence. I'd already made an impression on both the chat and Jjangjjangwang himself, and I'd even made a wish.
That's right. The wish I had asked of Jjangjjangwang.
That wish was…!