Cam Room (2)
There's a term for it: the contrast effect.
The theory says that when you dip your hand into lukewarm water, what you feel changes completely depending on whether you touched cold water or hot water first.
The same idea carries over into art. In that world, they define it as the phenomenon in which two dissimilar colors act upon each other until their very difference is what the eye perceives, sharpened and unmistakable.
The conclusion is that you can draw out a far more dramatic effect by setting different things against each other. Just like the outfit I'm wearing right now.
It was a thin brown turtleneck, the kind that started at the throat and sealed the entire upper body away. To anyone who disliked exposure, it would have looked like an entirely commendable choice of clothes—if only I hadn't prepared my secret weapon for today.
This is the true contrast effect.
A turtleneck that wrapped the torso with meticulous care, not a scrap of skin on display. And precisely because of that, along an otherwise smooth, unbroken line, the only things that stood out were the two hills rising unmistakably in the middle. To push the effect as far as it would go, I'd chosen the size tight. I didn't stop there, either. Both hands waving, torso tipped ever so slightly forward—this pose was nothing short of cheating.
"No reaction? Should I cover up again?"
The moment I casually lifted the blanket draped over my knees, the spell on the viewers broke.
Up until the moment I'd come out wrapped in the chick blanket, chat had been hell. Now it was heaven. Men truly are sorrowful creatures.
I let out a small laugh and straightened from my lean.
"Getting force-kicked on a day like today would be pretty sad, wouldn't it? Everyone watch your chat on your own."
The reactions were cute. A stifled laugh escaped me as I straightened my waist and set my back upright—and at once a certain part of my body pushed forward on its own, emphasized on the screen all over again.
The reaction was explosive. Chat aside, Water Balloons by the thousand—a sight you rarely saw on an ordinary day—kept bursting one after another.
I engineered this, but it's landing so well I'm getting light-headed.
Sure enough, nothing worked on men quite like a mid laner's carry. No matter how loudly top and bot tried to boast of their own, the one true carry lane was mid—
Wait. What was I even saying?
Staring at a chat that had completely lost its mind, it seemed my own head had gone hazy for a second. In any case, a man's psychology is something another man understands best.
Exposure is definitely good. But exposure that's too blatant, too on the nose, becomes a burden instead. Just as push and pull matter in romance, the feeling of almost showing and then not is what sets a man truly on fire.
There's an optical illusion at work, too. Wrapped up this tight, all they can do is guess.
The chest I'd grown with an ability was a 75D. I could have made it larger by going all-in on points, but that would have thrown off the overall balance and turned into a minus, so I'd stopped here.
The real reason, though, is this. It's stupidly heavy!
Because I'd originally been a man, it was all the more uncomfortable, and all the harder to adapt to. If I'd been a woman, I would have grown used to it naturally as I developed. In my case, several kilograms had simply appeared on my chest overnight, and the alien feeling of it—the sheer, dead weight—was genuinely awful.
Will I ever get used to this...
"Ah, sorry. I was debating whether to pull the blanket back up, or lower it further."
"What are you even saying? You've lost it!"
I force-kicked him in a flash. Someone that dead serious about stockings. A handful of chats offered prayers for the departed, and then the topic promptly moved on.
"...so there's a serious problem of that sort, and unfortunately you'll have to settle for a Half-Cam today. I said it at the start—let's take this slow."
There were fewer complaints than I'd expected. It seemed quite a few viewers were perfectly satisfied with my mid-lane carry.
"Shall we fall under the spell together?"
After that, things went smoothly. I mixed in the occasional impression to lift the mood, and about an hour after the cam room began, I sang a song I'd prepared in advance.
"Mm... it's a little warm. What should I do?"
Through the outfit-change segment I'd prepared ahead of time, I raked in a heap of Water Balloons as well. The response was better than I'd expected: I cleared the Water Balloon missions twice, and the viewer-count and fan-club signup missions once each.
Points are always right.
With the baseline raised, the amount I gained had increased too, and it was fairly lucrative.
"It's already been three hours. It's a shame, but we'll stop here for today!"
There was an offer at the end that tugged at me hard, but I turned it down. Coaxing out Water Balloons, or acting thirsty, is fine when it reads as a joke or a bit. The moment it starts to look sincere to the viewers, though—regardless of what you actually feel—problems begin. Which is why you always have to stay on guard. Against greed that doesn't know where to stop, and against your own laziness...
"Haaah!"
The broadcast ended. The fatigue that had stepped aside while I forced my energy up tagged in and crashed over my whole body.
Sleepy...
I sank deep into the back of the chair. I was tired. And yet, mechanically, my head kept turning over today's broadcast—the satisfaction I felt, and the regret. Fortunately, the positive outweighed the rest today. The viewers' reactions had been very good, too.
I want to call this a victory of solid strategy and effort... but.
The influence of the mid carry was too large to set aside. In the end I offered myself a small congratulations: a victory for strategy, for effort, and for mid, all of them together.
Today's broadcast will definitely ripple for days, just like the Miracle joint broadcast.
There would be people whose schedules hadn't lined up, who hadn't caught the live show. And people who hadn't cared at all, but who would see the photos and gifs that spread afterward, get curious, and come looking.
Then, at the very least, I should pick up extra Water Balloons for two or three days, and fan-club signups ought to climb too.
The points I'd spent preparing this cam room came to 650 in total. I'd acquired Breast Growth 3 and Balanced Figure 2. Breast Growth 3 only governed one specific area, and perhaps because of that its costs—30, then 140, then 280—had been cheaper than I'd expected. Balanced Figure, on the other hand, covered a much wider range, so its costs of 50 and 150 had run higher.
I picked up another 150 points during today's broadcast, so that leaves 500? I need to gather them again quickly if I'm going to take the next step.
There were things I wanted to do... and all sorts of plans besides. But those required new abilities, and learning abilities required points.
"Now that I think about it, is there no special mission? I can barely even remember when I last received one."
"...Right. You're correct."
I'd told myself greed was forbidden, but humans, as ever, don't change so easily.
"Yaaawn!"
Once I'd roughly sorted my thoughts, a body that could no longer fight the fatigue sent up its signal. It wasn't even nine in the evening, and I was already sleepy.
"Alright. Sleep."
I dropped with a thud. I'd hesitated a moment after checking the time, but today I had already faithfully accomplished more than I'd set out to do. In the quiet stillness, I drift off to sleep.