Mia's Birthday Broadcast

Short bottoms and an oversized blouse, frills gathered at the neckline and the cuffs so the cuteness and the femininity pressed in even harder. A pink skirt matched over the top of it — innocence, with one more spoonful of innocence stirred in. It was the sort of outfit a college freshman in her early twenties might put together before her first amusement-park date with her boyfriend, youth and loveliness spilling off the clothes in waves.

But who was it that said the only thing that really matters is the hanger?

Hair that fell just past the shoulders swayed and caught the light. Follow it back to where it began, and you met eyes glittering like starlight — a lake too deep to guess what it held, and inside it a whole cluster of stars.

Only after you managed, barely, to tear your gaze from those dangerously charming eyes did the clean bridge of the nose announce itself, and you understood in your bones that the old line about a high-nosed woman had never been an empty saying. A jawline with nowhere to find fault. Skin so clear it seemed transparent, and teeth white as jade. And those dimples, folding in just slightly whenever she smiled — what about them? Last of all, red lips that burned all the sharper against that snow-white smile. The final ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stroke that finished the painting. A distillation of allure that shattered a person's self-control and made them want to take her, by force if they had to.

The viewers went wild. They could scream all they liked for the five great female cams and the Three Great Female Cams, but everyone knew the truth. Cameras, lighting, and makeup covered what they could; set beside real celebrities, those women were plainly a step short. If their looks had truly been that extraordinary, they would have debuted as stars instead of lingering in the personal-broadcast world, which people still treated like the shade.

That was exactly why this presence blazed. Even after you allowed for the cam, the lights, and the makeup, this was the real thing. Looks on a level that could slap the Three Great Female Cams across the face and straight back the other way.

The chat descended into chaos. And the chat was not the only thing that did.

The gallery was coming apart at the seams. People who usually split themselves across games, cam radio, singing, and a dozen other categories, each circling a topic that belonged only to them, had for this one moment drawn together as a single body.

Water Balloons poured in. Every streamer around me wore the same dumbfounded look. They had expected a reaction — just not a shockwave so far past the forecast that the broadcast itself stalled, and they were reduced to spectators.

I let a wry smile go where no one could see it, reached out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a finger, and pointed through the screen. Then I said it, low.

"I. Di. Ots."

"If everyone keeps throwing a fit like this, the broadcast is going to be impossible to run. So — should we let that happen, or not?"

"Keep this up and we'll run so late we won't even get to show you the things we went to the trouble of preparing. So you're all going to listen, aren't you?"

The spam and the mindless flood of chat thinned, just a little. I used the opening to take one step aside and caught Clemoomoo's eye. Take it from here.

"All right, all right, looks like everyone's had quite the shock. Hani really is incredibly pretty, I'll give her that. Not as pretty as my wife, of course."

Clemoomoo hammed it up and started driving the room himself. The first order of today's collab got underway — the birthday fundamentals, if you wanted to call them that. The birthday song, and the cutting of the cake.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"

"Dear Kang Mia, happy birth... day!"

"Hoo—!"

The candles went out on the heels of the song. Fireworks they'd prepared ahead of time burst, and Clemoomoo, camera in hand, took the commemorative shot.

"Uh... why did it come out like this?"

"Why? You said you were good at taking pictures."

Mia came over at the troubled look on his face and snatched the camera. She checked the state of the photo — and exploded.

"Why do I look like a squid! Oppa, are you actually my anti?"

"N-no... I didn't do it on purpose. Hani just happened to be standing right next to you. This is not my fault."

We shared the cake out in small pieces and moved on to the next order of business, the presentation of gifts.

First up was Clemoomoo. What he'd prepared was something none of us had seen coming — a storybook. Across roughly three years of running together as the Miracle Crew, the pages were packed solid with photos, drawings, and painstaking handwriting: every joint broadcast, and every memory that had come with them.

"Oppa..."

It was a more heartfelt gift than anyone had expected, and even Mia looked properly moved. Clemoomoo, determined to keep the broadcast entertaining, immediately started laying it on.

"Looking at me with those eyes won't do you any good. It's already too late. I've only got my wife."

"Hey! I hate uncle jokes! Give me my feelings back, right now!"

The turn passed along with practiced ease. This time it was Waka.

Uh. This is... well. Hmm.

"Do I really have to take it?"

"Th-this was expensive."

Mia's face had gone cold, and Waka was flustered. The rest of us, watching, said nothing.

A dakimakura, if I had the word right — a long body pillow printed with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an anime character in a red plugsuit.

From then on Waka had to weather Mia's wariness, cranked up another full notch. The viewers were eating it up, though, so maybe it counted as fine.

"Here. Take it. Happy birthday."

"Oh, what's gotten into you? You actually know how to give a girl a present like this."

What Lac had prepared was a necklace from a well-priced brand that was all the rage among young women. At once, the true believers still convinced the Mia ♡ Lac coin was destined to moon began to seize.

Faced with a reaction like wildfire, Clemoomoo flicked a look that said put it on her yourself. Lac fastened the necklace as if it were nothing at all, while Mia wore an aloof expression that didn't suit her in the slightest.

"So this is a confession, then? Hmph. I'm not some easy girl who folds over something like this."

"What are you even saying. You just got a year older — drop the nonsense and get it together."

"Mm-hm. And Oppa's a grunt-in-waiting now."

They needled each other's weak spots and bickered the way they always did, locked into their usual sibling positions.

Now it was my turn.

"Mia. Happy birthday."

"Unnieeee!"

The gift I'd prepared was, frankly, simple. A music box of the kind that had caught on as a present, the sort that plays a song when you open it. Lift the lid of the jewelry box and a little glass girl inside becomes a ballerina and dances. And then the song comes out — one I had recorded myself, thinking of Mia.

"Oh my!"

"Unnie..."

Mia's eyes, trembling with how moved she was, turned toward me. The little figure spun and spun, lifting my recorded voice.

Mia listened all the way to the end with a happy smile. The viewers had the sense to read the room; wave-shaped chat kept the beat and matched the mood.

"Unnieeeeee!"

Wham—!

"Guh—!"

A swift charge, followed by a devastating body check. And with that, the gift presentation came to a safe close.

The whole reason today's joint broadcast existed was Mia's birthday. Everyone had gathered on the pretext of celebrating it. But we were streamers, every one of us, and ending the collab the moment the birthday wishes were done would have been utterly unthinkable. Naturally, we had prepared a few games the viewers could enjoy right along with us.

"All right, a simple game. First we set up one long table with a screen across the front."

Everyone but a single host stood behind the table. From the waist up — the height of the tabletop — you were on display. Below that, nothing could be seen.

"We've got all sorts of props ready, and we'll call out different situations to go with them. For example — everyone, please sit down right where you are!"

I sat, and so did the other streamers. Laughter burst out of the chat at once.

"Exactly. We give you a situation, we act it out as best we can, and all you viewers have to do is find the one culprit."

"Playing it straight would be boring, so we'll stake the streamers' honor and pick five fans from each room. Whoever comes out as the final winner gets a culture gift certificate worth a hundred thousand won! And the team that produces the winner gets a paid item that lets you watch streams with no ads."

The streamers started picking, on their own and one by one, viewers they'd already had their eyes on. So I dug through the viewer list with everything I had. If I could help it, I wanted someone who watched my broadcasts faithfully.

Huh?

Familiar nicknames were scattered all through the list.

My team, it seemed, was more or less already decided.