Dual Streaming, Fuck. What a Shitty App.

I ground the cigarette butt on the floor with my shoe, turned on my heel, and headed home. The first-floor studio construction site was empty when I got back. Even Cha Su-ah, who'd been working late, must've gone home. I trudged up to the second floor through the dim first floor, tossed my outer clothes aside, and flopped onto the bed. In the heavy silence, my mind started spinning wildly.

I summoned the quest window into the air again.

The deadline blinking in red: seven days. These ruthless system bastards weren't even giving me time to finish the studio and plan my next move leisurely. Either corrupt that little shrimp into underground streaming within a week, or forfeit 15 billion won. An astronomical sum.

"Haa."

I rubbed my dry face, mulling over the quest text. Ditching 15 billion didn't add up financially. And beyond the money, what the hell was this promotion? It was driving me fucking insane with curiosity. If it unlocked even better functions than what I had now... how far could this go?

But I had zero desire to treat Sol like Ji-hee or Ji-hye right now. She was one of the few normal, straightforward connections left in my fucked-up life—I wanted to keep her that way. Even if not, this choice had to be mutual between us. No gaslighting or shitty powers; I didn't want to drag her into the shadows like that.

I was glaring at each word of the quest text like it owed me money when it hit me.

Wait.

[Successfully debut 'VVIP Streaming.']

All the system demanded was a debut in underground streaming. No specifics about corrupting the target, turning her into a whore, or forcing sex shows. Just stand the target in front of those VVIP perverts' broadcast network, right?

A spark flashed in my brain.

The quest's blind spot. A way to cheat the rules, fool the system and the VVIPs perfectly without breaking them.

VVIPs didn't just want raw flesh-on-flesh ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fucking. They craved the superiority of knowing something exclusive, the voyeuristic thrill of peeping undetected, the hidden true face of someone the masses idolized. Forcing the internet streaming slang "red pill" reveal.

Sol runs her usual clean gaming stream for her public viewers. I hijack ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it with my camera angles and subtle directing to beam the most humiliating, taboo voyeur stream to the VVIPs.

Sol keeps her body intact while helping with my art project. I sell the raw reactions from that to the VVIPs and pocket 15 billion.

Fuck, Han Siwoo, you genius? Perfect.

The idea solidified, and I fired up my PC, scouring top-tier rental studios near Gangnam. Soundproof booths for streaming, fully separated control rooms for oversight. Luckily, I found a private one matching perfectly and booked it for the week without a second thought.

Then I grabbed my phone and called Sol.

Ring ring ring— She picked up after a few rings.

[Hey, hyung! What's up, miss me already? Calling right away. You home?]

"Yeah, yeah. You?"

[Still in a taxi. Man, first booze in ages and I'm sleepy.]

"Drunky lightweight. Anyway, what's your streaming schedule like next week?"

[Next week? Probably afternoons to evenings? Why?]

"Hmm... Thinking of starting work the day after tomorrow. Cool with you?"

I heard her jolt through the receiver.

[What? You said the studio needs a month! Day after tomorrow?!]

"My whims don't wait a day or two. Talking to you sparked this killer mise-en-scène in my head—I can't hold off shooting it."

[Mise-en-what? What the hell. And! I haven't dieted at all!]

"What bullshit. A scrawny kid like you dieting? You aiming for famine refugee vibes?"

[Fuck, seriously... Then what? Where we shooting? Not in the middle of the construction site. And I got streams too.]

"Found a solid rental studio in Gangnam. Booked the whole thing. It's got computers and streaming setups ready, so just show up, help me shoot, and do your personal streams there. Way better than your home shit setup."

Yeah, yeah. Think that otaku shrimp can resist top-tier PC temptation?

[For real, I can stream from there...? Rental fees must be insane.]

"Hey, told you I'm loaded now, right? Gear and your outfits—Director here’s got it all prepped. Just bring your body."

[Out, outfits? What? Like dresses? What is it? I'm anxious.]

"You'll see when you get here, punk. Day after tomorrow, noon sharp. Sending the address."

[O-okay! But I'm really coming barefaced?!]

"Yep."

Call ended. I tossed the phone on the desk and grinned.

Alright, you shitty system bastards. I'll put your perfect target on stage. But the script and direction? All mine.

15 billion and promotion. Time to handle this right.

Two days later, Gangnam rental studio.

I arrived early, finished setting up the gear.

Inside the soundproof booth: top-tier PC and streaming mic for Sol. Outside control room: monitors for me to operate from.

And most crucially.

Cameras covering every angle in the booth, capturing Sol perfectly without blind spots.

Obviously, those aren't for her public stream.

They're linked to the control room PC, streaming exclusively via the VVIP app—pure voyeur lens.

"Hyung! I'm here!"

The door burst open as Sol rushed in.

Barefaced, no makeup, sloppy gray tracksuit. 29 years old? Anyone'd think a middle-schooler hit the PC bang.

"Whoa, bare face and tracksuit for real?" Gotta tease.

"Wha...? You told me to dress like this!!!"

"Kidding~ You're early. All set up—change first."

I handed over the shopping bag I'd hauled in personally.

Sol peeked inside, eyes bulging like a frog.

"Holy shit! What're these chuuni-ass clothes?!"

She pulled out: oversized black hoodie, lace choker. Thigh-high fishnet overknee socks.

Classic landmine girl look.

Sol dumped the bag on the floor, flailing.

"No way, fuck that! I'm not cosplaying! This is for a photoshoot! Art! "

I picked up the tossed clothes, brushed off dust, and played stone-faced.

"It's art. Avant-garde mise-en-scène capturing the melancholy and deprivation of isolated modern youth."

"What the fuck kinda nonsense..."

"A 20-something woman trapped in cyber space, severed from society—her repression. Needs this symbolism. No whining, put it on. Rental fees ain't cheap, and it'll suit you perfectly."

Lip-pouting, she snatched the clothes and stomped to the changing room.

"Fuck... bottom's all loose and weird..."

Moments later, the door cracked open. Sol shuffled out sheepishly.

148cm tiny frame in a massive men's hoodie—the hem barely skimmed her ass, bottomless risky fashion complete. Fishnet overknee socks squeezed her thighs, exposing creamy absolute territory starkly.

Baby face sans makeup clashing with the delinquent, decadent outfit.

Ka. Love it. This is it.

"Damn. Perfect. Exactly the deprived vibe I wanted."

"Deprived my ass—it's the fabric that's deprived! No pants?!"

"Can't see, so fine. In the booth. Ignore the outside cameras, fire up your usual vtuber stream like normal."

I shoved her grumbling back into the soundproof booth and shut the door.

Thick soundproof glass separated us perfectly.

I leaned back in the control room chair, crossing my legs leisurely.

Through the glass, Sol donned her headset, set the mic.

Her public platform stream went live.

[Aah, mic test. Yo! Brats, sis is here!]

Her stream audio boomed through the control room speakers.

Usual big-tits watermelon-chested vtuber avatar up, bantering with viewers, cursing freely.

Public chat scrolling confirmed, I launched the app client on the PC.

Time to open the real show.

Hit stream start. System alert popped up.

High-spec cameras captured Sol in the booth.

Screen split: half her public big-tits vtuber stream. Other half: 148cm legal loli in bottomless landmine gear, legs splayed, mouse shotgunning.

The vtuber's ultimate taboo red pill, in the rawest voyeur form. Insane broadcast live.

Reactions instant. VVIPs flooded chat.

Whoa. Better reaction than expected?

Hundred-million-won donation alerts exploding across the screen. Sol, oblivious to her VVIP exhibition inside, slammed the desk on a game death, cursing up a storm. Each time, the hoodie's hem rode up teasingly, flashing pale skin and panty lines.

Ha... Sorry, Sol. But it's not strip or fuck stream, right? And that artistic bullshit I told you about? Real deal, swear.

Even watching from outside, a weird taboo thrill hit me.

Then.

The pervs' mad lust oozed, ready to burst through the monitor.

1.5 billion. Fucking sweet number.

Nothing to it—open that door, pin her down by force.

But I'd decided against that shit.

More importantly, these pervs had no clue the broadcast's true flavor.

I pulled the control room mic close, powered it on. My voice went only to VVIP stream, not to Sol.

"Aigoo, 'FuckHerNow' hyung. 1.5 billion. Insanely grateful mission, but..."

Smiling slyly, I murmured low.

"Politely declining this one."

Chat froze for a beat post-alert, then curses exploded.

"Nah, hyungs. Tempers flaring."

Unfazed, I whispered into the mic.

"Me barging in, tackling and raping her? Just generic mass-produced porn. Who am I? The director."

Chat pace slowed a tad.

"Core of this stream: obliviousness. That shrimp thinking she's some cute idol, actually stripped bare and displayed under your gazes—the mocking taboo thrill. Savor it slow."

Grabbed sketchbook and marker from the desk. Scribbled big, slapped it against the glass for Sol.

Gaming hard, Sol spotted it, freaked, mouthing something.

Mis... ter... Ah, crazy bastard! Got it.

Sorry, Sol. Gotta.

She bullshitted public viewers: "Agh~ leg numb!" Dragged her right leg up forcibly.

Instantly, loose hoodie hem yanked up—fishnets squeezing thighs, pale skin. Teasing panty line inside slammed into camera view.

"See?"

I smirked at the monitor.

"Forcing humiliating poses on the clueless beats instant fuck every time—sweeter, right?"

Phew. Crowd turned. Good.

Still 50%. But this stream alone should hit 100% today.