Chapter 9: Outside is a burning swamp(1)
Sometimes these questions pop up.
[Is the streamer foreign?]
[No.]
I’ve only been abroad once, to Japan on a high school trip.
[How old’s the streamer?]
How do I answer that?
I don’t, and chat starts guessing my age.
[College student?]
[Late 20s, I bet.]
[Westerners age fast, could be a high schooler?]
[Not that.]
[Definitely not a high schooler lol.]
Yeah, I’m not in high school. Graduated years ago.
But… that’s beside the point.
[What if I was a high schooler?]
[Lololol.]
[Getting defensive.]
[No way you’re a high schooler.]
I wanted to snap that using “obviously” for personal opinions is a hasty generalization, but chat disagreed.
Why are they like this to a pretty silver-haired girl?
[Agreed.]
[No offense, but high schooler’s a stretch, sis ;]
[Hmm ;]
[Lol, pretty girls don’t age, right?]
I finished my daily grind and paused the game to focus on chat.
[Why do I look like that?]
[Just do.]
[Eyes kinda… off?]
[Shh lol.]
I glared at the screen. My eyes, what.
I call myself a pretty girl, but I’m not some cartoon character. My eyes aren’t huge, and I have a nose.
Still, they’re pretty eyes. Cliché, but like gemstones, radiant. More peridot than emerald, a weighty green with a hint of yellow.
The cam doesn’t capture them fully, but they don’t deserve trash talk.
[My eyes are pretty.]
[Like a pretty girl.]
[;;]
[My toes are curling.]
[They’re pretty, but…]
Pretty’s enough, so why are they like this?
[Eyes kinda gloomy ;]
[Lolololol.]
[For real.]
[We won’t forget you, martyr.]
[ㅠㅠㅠㅠ.]
I banned that guy and inspected my cam feed closely. My eyes do look… a bit dark. Just slightly.
Lack of sleep? That doesn’t fully explain it.
[Oh.]
[I get it.]
[What?]
[Martyr ㅠㅠㅠ.]
[What’d you figure out lol.]
Through rational, philosophical inquiry, I uncovered the immutable truth of my existence.
[It’s the cam’s fault.]
[??]
[????]
[What the.]
For real. My cam sucks. It wasn’t even bought—just a freebie from some purchase. 720p, blurry, bad colors, sluggish response. Fast arm movements look choppy.
I flailed my arm to prove it.
[Look.]
[? Lolol.]
[What’s she doing??]
Not the reaction I expected.
[Cam’s lagging.]
[Lololol.]
[Doing it on purpose?]
[Eh, kinda.]
[So funny lolol.]
I pondered. I waved my arm to show the cam’s bad. That’d explain my eyes.
They’re just green with a slightly dull hue, but the cam’s bad colors make them look dark.
That’d counter the “obviously not a high schooler” jab. I’m not lying about my age, but that comment just bugged me.
No real reason, just did.
…I kept thinking and waved my arm again. Not a big motion—right arm out, swinging left and right a couple times.
Then I saw the chat.
[Underwear showing lololol.]
Fck.
Goddamn it.
[zzzzzzzz.]
[That’s what they meant.]
[Martyr ;ㅅ;.]
[Lol.]
It made sense.
I’m wearing my least ratty black long-sleeve tee, the one with the stretched collar. The sleeves are loose too. It’s an old guy’s shirt, way too big, so… through the sleeve gap…
Fck.
[So what?]
[Never seen women’s underwear?]
[It’s not a big deal.]
[Lolololol.]
[Embarrassed? Lolol.]
[Lololol.]
[Chat’s speeding up lol.]
Embarrassed? It happens.
[Mention it again, and you’re banned.]
[Shh.]
[Shh lol.]
[Martial law on.]
No big deal. I didn’t flash my chest. Underwear’s just clothing meant to stay hidden. It did its job, so no need to feel shy.
I ignored chat and focused on running Pashu carries.
[mwsnb624 donated 10,000 won: Underwear.]
[Lol hitting with donations.]
[Mmph lol.]
Oh.
…I hesitated. My first donation. Not 1,000 but 10,000 won.
But I don’t want underwear talk to keep going. Not because I’m embarrassed—obviously—but this is a gaming stream, not an underwear one.
Still, I can’t ignore it.
First time with this many viewers, I can’t just let this cash opportunity slip.
But I can’t let it slide either. It’ll ruin my image.
Long-term, it’s poison.
…
[I’ll let it slide once.]
[Lol.]
[Capitalism wins lol.]
[Oh, I just topped up, damn.]
I hesitated again at that last chat…
Life as a pretty girl isn’t easy. It comes with its own struggles.
Like showering.
“Ugh.”
After a shower, I shiver reflexively.
No matter how much I dry off, I’m cold. It’s the wet hair.
Long hair takes longer to wash, but drying’s even worse. Towels aren’t enough, and even drying until the hairdryer smells burnt leaves it damp.
So I dry it halfway and step out, feeling cold. My arms ache from the dryer.
I dress, apply lotion, finish drying… my arms hurt more, like they’ll snap. Fck.
Lately, my arms hurt worse. Drying feels longer. Thinking about it, it’s true.
I decided to check, opened my photo app, and was greeted by the spicy selfie. Oops.
Didn’t want to delete it, so… left it and checked the first stream’s photo.
Two photos.
They look a bit pale now. The second one, holding the “Screwed Life Pretty Girl” sign, is… kinda embarrassing. Look at those eyes. Why so angry?
How do I look now? In the foggy bathroom mirror, my eyes seem softer. Comparing the photo and mirror, my hair does seem longer.
In just a week.
Could it be…
No way, could it…
Because of that?
You know, the… thing. Like, if you do it a lot, your hair grows faster, or so they say.
Curious, I searched the correlation online. Seems others wondered too—it popped up quick.
Hormones do affect hair growth, but unless you’re constantly thinking naughty thoughts, it’s negligible. Typical urban myth.
So, if you do keep thinking those thoughts…
…Of course not. I don’t have the stamina.
My stamina’s garbage. Even eight hours of sleep leaves me drained, sprawled on the bed.
My strength and endurance are pathetic. My center of gravity’s high, so my balance sucks. Yet my senses are sharp—loud sounds hurt my ears, and long screen time dries my eyes.
A pretty girl’s body has its downsides.
If my body had to change, why not an immortal one? Gaining weight from eating, catching colds with sniffles—what’s this?
Periods and nails are a hassle too. The period chaos was bad enough, but trimming toenails was a struggle.
Bending my knees to clip them, my chest got in the way. Twisting my back made a crack…
But hair’s the real crisis.
The biggest of my life.
As a guy, I let my hair grow out. If it got annoying, I’d trim the bangs and sides with scissors.
YouTube made it easy.
Now it’s different. My hair passes my shoulders, nearly to my waist. It’s fine and thin but thick in volume. Or maybe not that thin—it shimmers like a prism, making it seem delicate.
Point is… it’s heavy. My weak strength struggles to lift my head.
But I can’t cut it myself. No way, not at all.
Cutting this beautiful hair with my feeble arms and scissors? Unthinkable. No matter how I look at it.
Strength-wise, style-wise, it’s a job for a hairdresser.
Yup.
I have to go outside.