Chapter 77: Shattered Memories

It feels strange.

A floating, hazy, and somewhat dizzying sensation.

I couldn’t quite gather my thoughts, as if I were being pulled somewhere.

Yet, despite all of that, I felt good, and without realizing it, I let out a soft laugh.

“Huh…”

Come to think of it, what was I doing just now?

I slowly looked around.

The noisy chatter, the lined-up glasses of alcohol, Ryuah and Papi Joa.

And the man named Buffy, who had just arrived.

Ah, right. I was at a party.

“All set, Mollru-nim.”

“Set? For what?”

What was he talking about?

Buffy adjusted the selfie stick so that the camera wouldn’t capture my face.

Only my hands and the lower part of my torso would be visible, while the rest of the frame focused on him.

Ah, right, I had agreed to stream.

He had said that people were looking for me, so we decided to do a quick broadcast together.

Realizing this, I smiled and nodded.

“…Are you really okay?”

“Of course! I’m totally fine.”

“Hmm…”

Buffy folded his arms and stared at me for a moment.

I met his gaze, and for some reason, I felt good enough to giggle.

“Ahem! Alright, let’s begin the stream.”

For some reason, his face turned slightly red as he reached for his phone to start the broadcast.

“Aren’t you streaming, Ryuah?”

“I’m good…”

“What about you, Papi-nim?”

“Same here…”

Both of them looked exhausted, as if their energy had been completely drained.

Maybe they were just tired.

“Ah, ah, can you all hear me? Hey, everyone, I’m at the Switch party right now.”

With Buffy’s greeting, the broadcast began.

“…Where are all these people coming from? Did someone drop a location pin? Hold on, I need to put slow mode on. The chat is moving too fast for me to read.”

“Yeees~.”

“…Mollru-nim, that wasn’t directed at you.”

[What’s with Mollru today? She’s ridiculously cute lololol]
[Heard there was a lunatic here, so I came to check]
[The entire community has already marked the location]
[Alone with a man… Alone with a man… Alone with a man…]
[I might lose it? I might lose it? I might lose it?]
[They said Papi and Ryuah are also there, but this guy isn’t listening]
[I’m too excited to hear anything lol]
[This feels like ‘that late-night broadcast’ all over again]
[The legendary stream that didn’t even leave a replay]
[Is this going to turn into a driving stream?]
[If she drives now, she’s losing her license for sure]
[Does she even have a license?]
[LOL, streamer’s definitely drunk]
[Uh, excuse me? This channel already has an owner]
[Nope, this is our channel now]
[Attention: This broadcast has been taken over by insane viewers]
[So this was a company party, huh?]

“Wow, this chat is something else…”

For Buffy, whose main platform was YouTube, this level of chat intensity was a first.

He had a solid following, and his live streams usually pulled in decent numbers, but this was on another level—teetering on the edge of 10,000 to 20,000 viewers.

And every single one of them was in full attack mode.

Like streamer, like fans—these people had a natural-born DPS.

Buffy had realized this only five minutes into the stream.

“I was planning to do a short Q&A with Mollru-nim.”

“Q&A…?”

“Yes, but at this rate, it’s impossible. I’ll have to set it to subscriber-only mode.”

He took extreme measures.

Slow mode and subscriber-only chat—a two-layered lockdown.

He didn’t care about backlash. He just needed to get things under control.

But Buffy had no idea what he had just done.

He didn’t yet understand why Mollru’s viewers were called ‘Mollcockroaches.’

“…Wait, what the hell?”

Buffy was speechless.

For about a minute, the chat did seem to slow down, giving the illusion of success.

Then, the notifications hit.

All at once.

The supposed ‘calm’ had lasted less than a minute before a flood of new subscriber alerts took over.

<Mollru’s Broth has subscribed for 1 month!>
—Ahh, this is what we call ‘subscribing.’

“Uh… Mollru’s Broth, thanks for subscribing.”

“Thank youuu~.”

“Mollru-nim, please stop responding for a moment. I think this is going to get out of hand.”

“Huh? But they subscribed, I should react. What are you talking about?”

“No, I mean—”

“Buffy-nim, are you the type of big-shot who doesn’t do reactions? Is that the kind of person you are?”

“But you’re the actual big-shot here, Mollru-nim…”

“So that’s the kind of person you are…”

“Why are you trying to bury me?”

Buffy turned away from Mollru and glanced at the chat.

How many people had subscribed in the last few seconds? The messages were flying faster than before.

[Yeah, just subscribe, that’s all there is to it]
[We reclaimed our land]
[Lol, if you don’t subscribe now, you’re missing double the reactions]
[Are you seriously not subscribing to see drunk Mollru’s reactions?!]

[This isn’t an everyday occurrence… Tsk… They’re wasting this chance…]

[Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, cute]

[This place feels like home…]

Every time Mollru opened her mouth, the chat reacted as violently as the stock market during a global crisis.

Since she was drunk, her words had no filter.

It felt like sitting next to a ticking time bomb.

Buffy rubbed his face with a troubled expression.

‘Honestly, I wish the stream would just crash.’

Mobile streams, especially when done through a phone, often lagged or disconnected due to network instability or an overwhelming number of viewers.

However, despite Buffy’s silent prayers, the connection was unusually stable today.

With chat flooding in like a tsunami, Buffy decided to take drastic action again.

“Uh, I’ll only be reading donation messages. Sorry, everyone.”

“Waaah… Buffy-nim is going to be rich.”

“I’m not keeping all of it. The split will be 9:1—Mollru gets 9, and I get 1.”

“You all heard that, right…? Hurry up and donate.”

As soon as Mollru said that, donations started pouring in.

<Lemon has donated 50,000 won!>
<Winia has donated 100,000 won!>
<Sususu has donated 150,000 won!>
<DejawaProtector has donated 100,000 won!>
—For cute Mollru, 90,000 won is a must.

“Ah, thank you, DejawaProtector, for the 100,000 won donation. If you leave a message or a question with your donation, Mollru-nim will answer it.”

“That’s right~…”

“Mollru-nim, aren’t you going to thank them for the donations? Are you really that kind of person?”

“Yes. I only say thank you when I feel like it. Talking so much earlier made me tired.”

“…Excuse me?”

Buffy stared at her, dumbfounded.

Just a moment ago, she had painted him as a greedy person who only cared about money, yet now she was acting completely indifferent.

[You’re already dizzy, right? Getting hit with the full force of Mollru’s personality.]

[That’s just how she is. No use getting mad.]

[Mollru / Controversy / Insulting Donors]

[She was so excited just a moment ago, now she’s all strict.]

[This is it… This is the flavor I missed.]

[You should stream every day.]

[Acted like she wouldn’t go to the Switch party, then suddenly showed up.]

After that, the donations just kept coming.

“Ugh… my head…”

A splitting headache jolted me awake.

My mouth was dry, and my eyes refused to fully open.

“Water…”

Normally, I would have gone back to sleep, but my thirst forced me up.

A strange room.

A spacious, white bed.

The plush mattress was completely disheveled, likely because of me tossing and turning.

As I fumbled around to assess my surroundings, I reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and chugged it like it was the elixir of life.

Once I was a little more awake, I finally had a thought.

Where am I?

And what’s this cushion next to me—

Thud.

“Mmng…?”

“???”

Turns out, it wasn’t a cushion.

Now that I took a proper look, it was way too long and bulky to be a pillow.

Peeling back the white blanket slightly, I revealed the person inside.

“…Hic?”

Fast asleep with a contented smile on her face—Ryuah.

There was only one large bed in the room.

Through the window, I could see the sun barely beginning to rise.

Why am I in the same room as Ryuah?

Ryuah’s home is in Busan.

That means this isn’t her place.

Looking around, I noticed a TV mounted on the wall, a small fridge below it, and a desk with an office computer.

“…A hotel?”

Judging by the furnishings, this wasn’t an overly luxurious hotel, but it was still an expensive one.

But then why am I here?

I was supposed to hang out for a bit, then take a taxi home—even if it was late.

Now that I think about it, my memory is hazy.

Not just about how I got here, but even about what happened inside the party venue.

At times like this, retracing my steps is the best option.

The last thing I clearly remember from last night was…

—”You don’t like the drink I poured for you?”

—”I knew it… You hate me, don’t you?”

—”Are you seriously not reacting to a donation? Is that the kind of person you are?”

“…What the hell?”

My memories felt jumbled and distorted.