A New Bond
An elegant line began at the waist and swept downward in one soft, unbroken curve—a masterpiece of a pelvis that would have rounded anyone's eyes, and above it a chest that rose in a proud, unmistakable swell, fully aware of its own presence. The drawing showed me exactly as I was, beautiful without a trace of exaggeration.
But everything else was an illusion.
The eyes. Right. That's as far as it goes.
The lips, pressed so tight you couldn't look away. The skin, luminous enough that it seemed the very light might come off on your fingers. None of it was mine. That only made me stare harder.
If I... if I could just become like that!
Ah... right.
I was live. I dragged my eyes off the picture and asked.
"GoodHaniBadHani, did you happen to draw this yourself?"
I don't know much about art. This much, though, I could tell: whoever had drawn it possessed a truly astonishing hand. If I checked their abilities, it'd probably land somewhere around Precise Rendering 4, Coloring 4, Observation 3.
"No way! You're really giving it to me as a gift?"
"I am completely looking forward to it. Wow! I've never gotten a drawing as a gift before."
I was a little moved. To be handed a piece of this quality—and it felt like all the work I'd put in was finally being paid back, which made it even better.
"Huh?"
At first I meant to let it slide without a second thought, but once I heard it, I couldn't explain why—GoodHaniBadHani felt, faintly, like a woman. So I asked, just in case.
"If it isn't rude, could you tell me your gender? If that's uncomfortable, no comment is perfectly fine."
Was there really a woman out there watching my stream? My heart gave a small, hopeful kick. My body had become a woman's, but at my core I was still a man. Of course I'd rather have female fans than a pack of grimy guys.
"...I wish every one of you would just drop dead."
The thought of those grimy men putting on that act made my fists tremble. Chat, of course, only grew warmer and cozier in response to the reaction. I did my best to ignore them and focused on GoodHaniBadHani.
"If you're calling me unnie, you're younger than me?"
"No—what kind of money does a high school student have, donating this much to my stream!"
I hurriedly added up the Water Balloons my tenth-ranked special member had sent me. It came to three million won—over two thousand dollars. Far too much to shrug off as two months of donations from a high school girl.
"No, even so..."
I turned it over, and my conscience still wouldn't allow me to take that kind of money from a minor. I needed a more serious conversation. Judging by the riot in chat and the way the viewers were reacting, though, that was going to be rough.
"...Hah. Everyone, I'm sorry, but I'm ending the stream and coming back at five, the usual time. I think I need to talk with our high school friend."
"Keep talking nonsense and I won't turn the stream back on later."
The sudden about-face pulled a hollow laugh out of me. I took her Discord contact in a whisper, ended the broadcast, and called right away.
"Um... is this Hani-unnie?"
"Yes, this is Hani. You're GoodHaniBadHani, right?"
From the very first word, the voice was unmistakably young. Young even for a high schooler. Don't tell me she was a first-year.
"I'm a second-year! Next year I'll be a third-year!"
Cute and bright—I liked that. But that was that, and this was this. I decided to come in hard from the start.
"Um... I get what you're saying, but it's fine. My parents said that as long as it isn't something against my age or the law, like drinking or smoking, it's money I earned anyway, so they don't care."
"Huh? Really? They actually said that?"
"Yes. If you want, I can even put my mom on. She and I are basically sisters."
"..."
It felt like everything I thought I knew was coming apart. A household this open-minded actually existed. Her parents had already given permission, and there was no financial problem either—if I kept forcing my point here, that would be me playing the old fogey. I made myself accept it, and was about to close the conversation by thanking her for donating so much.
"But unnie, you still haven't thought about YouTube, have you?"
The question came in sharp, hooking straight through me. Out of nowhere, I remembered the capable YouTube editor who had shown up when I was hiring a chat manager. The one who was an assistant manager now, too.
Out of the blue, sure—but it really is about time I started.
Lately the clear conditions on my missions had climbed so steeply that the gaps between point payouts kept stretching. If I wanted a steadier supply, I had to open a YouTube channel, take on as many different kinds of missions as I could, and clear them. That part was essential.
Still, I already decided to focus on the Legend of League tournament, and time-wise this would be too much. YouTube is no joke. I can't just stumble into it. I'll have to prepare properly before I start.
I sorted those thoughts out and said them. I was thinking about it, but not right now. I meant to get my preparations solid, and then begin...
"Unnie! I want to work as your artist, or on thumbnails. Please hire me!"
"..."
My head started to ache.
I have no idea what state of mind I ran today's broadcast in. I cut down the trash in chat howling for me to bring the high school girl on, and somehow, one way or another, I wrapped the stream.
Even so, what kept lingering in my head wasn't today's broadcast. It was the conversation I'd had with Yerin.
She made her case with a résumé that didn't match her age at all. About two illustration commissions came in a week, and she handled them professionally, with no scheduling trouble. She was also, she said, currently in charge of thumbnails for a YouTube channel. When I asked whether that wouldn't be an ethical problem, she told me that from the moment she found my stream she had been preparing to quit, and that as of last week she had found a successor and finished handing everything over.
Was this the class of a Hell Joseon high school girl? All I could do was marvel at that drive. Skill and a track record, both at once—set age aside, and she was more talent than someone who hadn't even opened a YouTube channel yet deserved.
"I was wondering when that line was going to show up."
A Helper without a shred of tact, as always.
For now, I put Yerin on hold. Sometime soon I ought to sit down with her and with ACupDetector, my assistant manager. Not yet, though. First I had to get through the Support Blame Cup—the Blame Game—now only a week away.
"Oh? What is it? Viewer count? Water Balloons?"
Anything was fine. Special-mission reward points were always correct.
A tournament with countless prospective believers watching. Be selected as MVP here, and raise the Goddess's renown.
Reward: 700 Points
"Excuse me. How is a hardstuck Diamond 4 supposed to take MVP in a room full of Grandmasters and Challengers? Give me a mission that actually makes sense."
"...I should have kept my mouth shut."
A normal mission, I might at least have tried. This one truly had no answer. The way they picked MVP for this tournament was simple: a vote by the viewers who had watched the two days of the Blame Game. The streamer with the most votes became MVP. Naturally, the one with the most skill, the one who led their team to victory, had the best odds—so my motivation was already gone.
"Hm?"
I shook off what was left of my attachment to the special mission and was lying on the bed, resting, when my phone buzzed hard. I stretched a hand to the head of the bed. The caller read Little Sister Mia.
"What, at this hour..."
Mia and I had grown close enough to trade not only Discord, but phone numbers. It was already ten at night. Wondering what could be going on, I answered.
"Unniiiiie!"
"..."
Whatever it was, the unease started before I even heard the rest.