Upgraded Abilities

The crystalline system message floated in the air. I cracked my stiff neck side to side, releasing the tension that had coiled tight in my body.

150 billion. It wouldn't hit my bank account in cash right away, but it meant the 50 billion monthly maintenance fee was locked in—waived entirely for the next three months. For just one stream, this was an insanely sweet reward.

I immediately manipulated the holographic interface, pulling up the newly unlocked Level 2 shop list.

A grin slipped between my lips as I scanned the text. These were insane functions. It meant I could toy with a subject's five senses completely at my whim.

But what truly hooked my gaze was that single line below: the passive skill.

"Whoa... fuck."

The curse slipped out loud before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I knew it. A free passive unlock was cheat-level on its own, but the real value lay in shattering technical limits entirely. Anyone who's ever handled a camera or worked in screen arts knows how absurd this is.

To get perfect POV, you strap on heavy head-mount gear or bite down on an action cam and go wild. Even then, capturing the subtle eye focusing, tremors, and field of view at 100% is damn near impossible with modern tech.

But my own eyes—straight-wired to my brain—acting as ultra-HD lenses for VVIP broadcasts? Whether this system was from gods or aliens... this was a revolution.

With my hands completely free, I could slam the exact sensation of every skin hair, every quivering pupil I gazed at directly into viewers' heads. This passive alone was worth hundreds of billions.

"Haa... haa... Our babies... gotta eat and have sweet dreams...? Nyaang..."

From the soundproof booth beyond the glass, Sol's ragged breaths mixed with mouse clicks. Click. The red ON AIR light atop the booth blinked out.

As Yangji Platform's stream ended, I cleanly shut down the VVIP Streaming interface before my eyes.

The app's aura enveloping Sol dispersed into the air. Her reason, clouded by tension and stress, cleared back to its sharp state.

Silence settled in the booth. In the gaming chair, legs splayed M-wide, Sol's hands slowly released her breasts, which she'd been squeezing hard.

"Haa..."

A long, deep sigh leaked from her. The weight of what she'd just done crashed over her like waves—the 1 million won, her streamer mindset. Because of that, she'd spread her legs in thong panties with a tail, kneading her chest. Right in front of her close oppa.

Normally, the VTuber avatar shielded her shame, but now it offered no cover.

"Fucking crazy bitch... Money's what, fuck... Haa... I don't even do reactions like that normally... I'm totally nuts..."

Sol pulled her knees to her chest, burying her flushed face in her arms. Shame and self-loathing—no one to blame since she'd chosen it—made her slim shoulders tremble.

I stood, grabbing my oversized windbreaker from the control room corner. Entering the booth, she mumbled without lifting her head.

"Oppa... don't come in... I'm so fucking embarrassed right now? I don't do trash reactions like that... Ah... Why'd I do it..."

I draped the windbreaker over her bare shoulders. The large fabric warmly covered her cute succubus outfit.

"Trash? What trash. You did your job as a pro streamer in capitalist society. What's embarrassing?"

"That's not the same... You saw everything... I looked so cheap and gross..."

I lightly stroked the crown of her bowed head, clutching the hem.

"Gross? I said I'd prove how captivating Lee Sol is as a subject today."

"Don't lie. Forcing my gumdrop tits together—what's pretty about that..."

Chuckling, I gripped her shoulders and pulled her up.

"Come on out. See for yourself what my lens captured."

She hesitated but followed my lead out of the booth. At the control room desk, I switched the monitor from stream setup to the personal photobook shots I'd captured and edited on the fly.

The photos on screen weren't the vulgar, wide-spread angles the VVIP pervs jerked to. A natural face with pursed lips under an oversized hoodie, sulky. Everyday tension frowning at the game in her corset. And that cute glare, cheeks flushed with shame and bewilderment, biting her lip at the lens.

Under my lighting, composition, and perfect directing, the Sol in these shots wasn't a scrawny 148cm kid anymore. Decadent yet precarious, stirring protective instincts with a subtle eroticism—a perfect subject.

Sol's pupils shook like an earthquake.

"This is... me...?"

"Who else? Nothing like those fake-pretty posers. Now you see how fuckable and pretty Lee Sol is outside the screen too."

"Fuckable what..."

"Ah, compliment. Don't misunderstand."

"Wha... Why say embarrassing shit like that..."

"Too honest. Sorry."

Blushing, she couldn't tear her eyes from her screen self. Affirmation of her body she'd never felt in 29 years. Shock that her "complex" tiny frame oozed such allure through the lens. Tears welled, then dropped.

"What... Why cry all sudden. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Did I say something weird?"

"Nooo... You shot me so pretty... Doesn't even look like me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but it is... "

Her voice, wiping tears with the sleeve, dripped relief and emotion.

"Hey hey, these are raw edits. I'll show the full video and polished shots later. Damn, this moved you? Han Siwoo here is the one touched!"

"...Hmph! What a clown you are."

Grinning, I pulled a thick envelope from my bag and handed it over.

"What's this?"

"Your model fee. Our main model Lee Sol made a stunning photobook. Even raws have me satisfied."

"Huh...?"

The hefty wad of bills. Photos affirming her as a woman. Tear-and-snot-streaked, she lunged, hugging my waist.

"Siwoo oppa... Thank you so much. I'll never forget today... Waaah..."

I slowly patted the back of the sobbing kid rubbing her face on me, fully trusting and clinging.

Her warmth. I stroked her head.

Haa. Couldn't mention the VVIP stream, but... how much did we rake in? Didn't check properly. Felt massive.

"But... Can I open it? It's so thick—not all 1,000-won bills, right?"

"Idiot. Open it."

Finally, she did—400 crisp 50,000-won notes.

"Wh-what?! Crazy..."

"What else? Model fee."

"No! You lunatic. Model fee for what... How many bills?"

Couldn't even count the stacks properly.

"400. Total 20 million won."

"400?! 20 million? Oppa, you're insane?"

"Quiet. I set the model fee. No haggling. Shoo shoo!"

"No way, who pays 20 mil at once? I'm no celeb, who gives me this kinda cash..."

Sniffling, her gaze hit the full-wall mirror.

"Ah......"

Her face exploded red from ears to nape.

"Fuck! Ah shit!! Am I fucking nuts!!"

One hand clutching the envelope, the other covering her crotch, she screamed.

"I've been bawling like this in front of oppa the whole time?! Aaaah!! Eyes down, you perv!!"

Dumbass. Forgot her own state.

"Saw it all already—what's with the cover-up now. Tail's gonna fall off."

"Shut uup!!"

Face buried, she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bolted to the changing room. Door slam, then muffled screams and blanket kicks.

Idiot. Chuckling, I started packing the control room gear.

Dimly lit, quiet izakaya. Across the corner booth table, Sol was back in her baggy training sweats. But the aura around her felt subtly different. Booze? Or the womanly confidence from hours ago?

She fiddled with her glass nonstop, stealing glances at me.

"So. How's the food?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Tasty. Pricey stuff, huh."

The motormouth was glitching like a broken robot.

Chin propped, I stared at her flushed face.

"Why you so choppy? Choppy lady?"

"Nooo... Just. Weird mood."

She set down her chopsticks, eyes dropping to the table.

"Those photos you showed."

"Want prints for your wallet?"

"No, fuck—not that... Do I really look pretty in your eyes? Not just photo magic or lights... Like, as a real woman."

Crawling voice. Her pupils darted wildly. 29-year virgin's suppressed self, finally whispering its riskiest question to reason.

I dropped my hand, meeting her eyes straight.

"Why lie? You're plenty attractive, pretty, and cute as a woman."

My serious, low answer blanketed the table in odd quiet. Even the soft room music faded distant. Her cheeks burned redder than the booze. Lips quivered, parting slightly.

"Th-then... C-can we... k-kiss...?"

What? This kid was totally conscious of me. Thank you very much.

I leaned across the table toward her face. She froze, big eyes round. My gaze hit her cherry lips. Inches more, breaths would mingle.

"Yeah. We can."

Eyes squeezed shut, she puckered slightly—

"Uwaaaah!!"

Suddenly shoved my chest hard with both hands.

"Ow, startled me."

Skinny ass packs a punch? Nearly toppled chair and all.

Sol shot up, hands cupping her red face, shrieking.

"Sorry! Really sorry! I'm totally wasted!! What do I do, I'm nuts nuts!!"

Snatching her bag, she fled the room like her hair was on fire.

"Hey! Where you going!"

My call didn't reach. Footsteps faded fast.

I swept back my messy bangs, chuckling dryly.

"Haa... Total noob."

Not mad—kinda cute. Babyish. Straight to lip-locking and banging wouldn't suit this kid anyway.

Taxi home. Staring blankly at night lights outside, my pocket phone buzzed short. Lee Sol.

Vivid image of her tearing her hair out. Grinning, I tapped back lightly.

Screen off, my impassive eyes reflected back. Today with Sol was fulfilling. 150 bil profit, artistic itch scratched. And crucially: Director Level 2 skills. Especially Director's Eye—my eyes as lenses. Wasting cheat eyes like this? Neglect of duty for an underground director.

Next stage angles clicked like gears in my head.

Cha Su-ah. Haven't done a proper stream with our Su-ah yet, have we?

I fired up the phone, opened Messenger, tapped Cha Su-ah's profile, typed.

Send—and read receipt instant. Sort cash at home tonight... Tomorrow night'll be long.