I Don't Know How to Turn Off the Broadcast
The viewer count had climbed to 15,420.
The monitor's glow was blindingly bright, and the room felt oppressively humid.
I stared at the tiny End button floating in the top right corner of the screen, then swallowed hard.
If I just press that, it'll be over, right?
My fingertips trembled.
For some reason, the button looked too small. Too ordinary.
And that made it all the more terrifying.
"Does anyone know how to end a stream? Please tell me now..."
I muttered under my breath, and the chat exploded right away.
I'd never started any kind of final battle.
I just wanted to go home.
I cautiously clicked End.
The screen didn't shut off right away.
Instead, one side of the window flickered briefly, then snapped back to crystal clarity like nothing had happened.
Even in that split second, a sharp pain throbbed in the side of my head.
No, what calculation?
I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants.
I'd just tried pressing it, but why was everyone taking this so seriously?
I dragged the mouse to the very top edge of the screen and opened the menu.
There was definitely an option like End in there.
I took a deep breath and clicked it.
This time, the reaction was different.
The screen shuddered a beat late, and the chat speed suddenly ramped up.
Then the viewer count jumped to 18,300.
What just went up?
My throat went bone-dry.
A ringing buzzed in my ears, and the air in the room grew heavy all at once.
My face crumpled like I was about to cry.
I'm just trying to end it...
Saying that out loud would only make things worse, so I clamped my mouth shut.
This time, I tried the shortcut key.
The window cut out sharply, and the whole screen plunged into darkness for a moment.
I flinched, shoulders hunching reflexively.
But the next instant, the window wasn't closed—it had just overlaid another thin layer.
It didn't feel blocked. More like the end option had burrowed deeper inside.
I tasted metal in my mouth.
Every breath made my lungs feel tighter.
Still, my eyes kept drifting to the chat.
It was still there.
Not completely gone.
I swallowed dryly without realizing it.
My breathing came a little slower.
I definitely wanted it off, but imagining the screen going pitch black made my fingertips go ice-cold.
I let go of the mouse for a second, then gripped it again.
My palm was slick with sweat.
A small fan whirred uselessly in the corner, but the air hitting my face felt hotter than ever.
I clicked the settings icon in the bottom right of the screen. A much quieter menu popped up than before.
It listed phrases like end one after another, but none of them seemed clickable.
Now it's not even bothering to hide.
I clicked the very last option.
The screen flashed briefly, but instead of closing, an info window appeared.
The window seemed to casually block off my escape routes one by one.
The viewer count jumped again to 21,103.
As I held my breath, the chat went eerily still for a moment, then erupted even wilder.
I stared blankly at the screen. Anyone watching would think I was about to unlock some door and step through.
Truth was the opposite. I was trying to get out.
But weirdly, the chat's nonstop chatter was starting to steady my breathing, bit by bit.
When I first turned on the stream, that noise had felt like a thorn in my throat.
Now it was completely different.
Those lingering messages were pushing back the room's silence.
I exhaled very slowly.
My vision still spun a little, but the urge to kill it immediately had faded.
Instead, the thought sharpened: if I really ended it, this commotion would vanish too.
That's weird.I definitely hated it.But if it disappeared... I'd hate that more.
The thought felt too pathetic to voice aloud.
Instead, I rested my hand on my knee and stared once more at the End button smack in the center of the screen.
A spot that refused to open no matter how many times I clicked.
Staring at it made one thing crystal clear: what I was clinging to wasn't a door, but the noise.
The window not closing completely meant someone was still yapping on the other side.
I tried ignoring that fact, gripping the mouse harder than necessary.
I moved the cursor back to the window's edge.
This time, I tried grabbing and dragging the whole window.
But the screen seemed to stick to my hand at first, then slipped right back into place.
This isn't impossible to close.It's just blocked so I can't do it.
That realization sent a chill down my spine.
No one pressing on the back of my neck, but it stiffened anyway.
The room still felt cramped, the monitor still blazed, and the chat kept scrolling only toward me.
I opened the menu one more time. This time, instead of reading, I just slowly scanned top to bottom.
End-like labels kept catching my eye, but none were clickable. It felt like even more blatant rejection than before.
I almost snorted a laugh. No, this wasn't funny.
But those words kept reshaping the air in the room.
If I were alone, I'd have collapsed in terror ages ago.
Now, someone was watching my hesitation to the end.
I'd wanted to end it because I hated being seen, but now I couldn't because those eyes might vanish.
Realizing that made my breathing ease, strangely.
Weird feeling.
I definitely wanted to run from here, but the silence after escaping terrified me more.
So I lowered my hand completely.
Pressed nothing.
Ended nothing.
I just stared at the screen, listening to the remaining clamor.
Fan noise. Keyboard clicks. The chat's flow.
If even one vanished, I'd know I was truly alone.
I couldn't let go of my hand.
Really couldn't.
The menu closed quietly, as if nothing had happened.
All that remained was my breathing and the chat's pace.
The room felt even quieter.
Like the monitor was only breathing toward me, with chat filling the gaps.
The fact that someone kept talking to me held my fingertips in place, strangely.
If this goes off...
The thought rose to my throat but never became sound.
I slowly lowered the mouse.
And this time, I didn't press the End button floating in the screen's center.
The danger wasn't the button—it was me, scared of actually closing it for real.
In the end, I stood frozen in place like a nail in wood.
My fingertips stayed cold.
But strangely, I didn't want to grab the mouse again right now.
The hand halted before the End button slowly drifted downward.
This isn't holding out...Just checking.
I insisted to myself as I rested my hand on my knee.
The window hadn't closed.
Instead, the chat was catching its breath, moving very slowly.
The room's silence retreated a bit to match that slow pace.
Fan noise.
The keyboard cooling down.
And the silent crawl of blue text, line by line.
In the end, I just stared at the chat.
Not because I couldn't close it, but because I lacked the guts to look anywhere else.
Not yet...
I swallowed the words that followed.