I Became a Malicious Streamer

I am who?

From the crack of dawn, I had been seriously pondering about life, or rather, about ‘me’.

It might sound absurd, but I was being serious right now.

Please bear with me and listen to my words.

I wasn’t a philosopher who earnestly contemplated ‘me’ on a regular basis, nor was I the kind of person who, having long surpassed my teenage years, still wrestled with finding my self-identity.

I’ll also rule out the option of being mentally unstable. I have a perfectly healthy mind, thank you very much.

This isn’t some career exploration session, and what good would finding the self do for a guy like me anyway?

I’m just an ordinary guy in his 20s from South Korea, very much plain, unremarkably typical. So why am I having these thoughts?

The reason was right in front of my eyes.

“….”

It’s a mirror.

And not the big fancy kind that you’d find in a clothing store.

Why, don’t they exist?

You know, those tall full-length mirrors that people keep at home, admiring their elongated silhouettes with a look of satisfaction?

Those grooming aficionados who snap pictures of their stunning selves and share them for mutual compliments?

Well, I don’t possess such social skills.

Nor am I a narcissist who gets lost in self-admiration every single day.

A full-length mirror wouldn’t suit me at all.

What I was seeing was a commonplace bathroom mirror, revealing only my upper body.

In the mirror stood a woman.

I locked eyes with her—some sort of eye contact, like a silent “hello”.

Her black pupils blinked at me.

Her prominent double-lidded eyes gave off a rather cold impression for some odd reason.

With a chilling and aloof demeanor, she seemed like someone hard to approach.

Her pale skin looked almost lifeless, like that of a patient, which only made her bright red lips stand out even more.

Long, flowing black hair cascaded down her neck like an inky waterfall.

She had a neck so delicately pale that it created a stark contrast with her deep black hair.

It was the kind of look that would awaken a protective instinct in any man.

And beneath it all, her curvy chest was there.

Not grotesquely large but assertively present.

It was precisely the type of appearance that would turn heads as she walked down the street.

There was nothing problematic about this.

Surely, there couldn’t be a problem…

Beauty may be in short supply, but pretty women can be found everywhere.

In fact, I could even call it luck. The chance to encounter such beauty is rare.

It’s true that fortune favors the brave.

If I had been with friends, we might’ve joked about who would confess first after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors.

Yet here I was, exhaling a sigh I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t deny it any longer now that I was confronted with this.

As I sighed, the woman in the mirror let out a small breath too.

When I blinked, she blinked in unison.

The timing was flawless, as if we had rehearsed it beforehand.

Yes, there was one problem.

…I had turned into a woman.

A very pretty one at that.

Dum dum duuummm!

“Who are you?”

I decided to recite a line that might sound like something out of a cheesy movie.

At the same time, the expressionless woman in the mirror began to pout her lips as if to reply.

Not like that would yield any answers.

This was like playing rock-paper-scissors with my own reflection.

I had no intentions of putting myself through such a cruel pastime.

Surprisingly, I calmed down quickly.

Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that I was okay. Perhaps like someone who isn’t okay repeatedly reassuring themselves they are fine.

After all, even someone who isn’t okay can gradually start to feel okay after hearing it enough times.

This is scientifically proven fact!

Aren’t there experiments with plants where kind words make them thrive while nasty words make them wilt?

You probably recall doing that famous experiment from childhood  science class, right?

You whisper sweet nothings to one plant while hurling insults at another, and the plant that hears the good words flourishes while the other withers.

Truly an enlightening childhood experiment highlighting the power of suggestion.

Unless, of course, the conclusion was just about saying nice things.

It might also be a lesson about avoiding gaslighting.

I didn’t understand it as a kid, but as an adult, I see its usefulness.

Maybe my perspective has shifted a bit too much.

Lost in thought, my mind wandered elsewhere.

This wasn’t the right time for such pointless daydreams.

“Let’s think positively!” Maybe this means my mind has recovered enough to daydream again!

Thus, as if some defense mechanism had kicked in, my panic faded far quicker than I expected.

What weighed on me now was what I should do next.

Who is this woman?

At the very least, I hadn’t seen such a beautiful face in my own memories.

Come to think of it, I might not have had any interactions whatsoever with women, to begin with.

Wait, that’s not entirely true.

But even if I did, can those fleeting moments even count?

I mostly only recall occasions when women cried in front of me…

And since those were painful memories, let’s bury them for now.

Here I was, stuck in this beautiful woman’s body without knowing her name.

Deciding finding information about her should be the priority, I started looking around.

The woman’s dwelling turned out to be a tiny one-room apartment.

Despite the limited space, it was decorated in a delightful way that didn’t make it feel drab at all.

A small studio apartment with a kitchen and living area combined.

Glancing toward the fridge occupying a corner, I inspected it.

Colorful Post-its were plastered all over it.

-1. Chop the green onion finely.
2. Fry the soy sauce until it’s caramelized.

3. Add the rice.

A Post-it that read “Teacher Baek’s Recipe.”

Those vibrant Post-its held meticulous notes and necessary ingredients for a recipe.

It seemed that this woman enjoyed cooking, but surprisingly, there weren’t any cooking ingredients in the fridge. It looked like she hadn’t cooked in a while.

The scattered takeout menus laying about seemed to confirm this.

Is there still someone who orders from a physical takeout menu?

Perhaps she’s not very adept with electronic devices.

This could be a significant clue… or not?

I should at least make a note of it.

Feeling like a detective from a novel, I rummaged through the small room, and with the room being small, I easily found a second clue.

-I Ji-eun 00xxxx- 4xxxxxx

It’s an ID. A photo of her awkwardly smiling greeted me.

Born in ‘00, she’s 23 years old.

The date on the ID suggests it had been issued recently.

I discovered it in her tattered wallet, which contained a few crumpled bills.

An old mobile phone sat on the desk too.

It seemed she wasn’t financially thriving.

I dialed up some numbers I couldn’t quite recall.

Mine and a few friends’ numbers.

“Excuse me, is this Park Jeong-tae?”

“You have the wrong number.”

Even when I tried calling the number of a former colleague, I met the same dead end.

I didn’t cry, but rather felt a sense of confirmation for something I had anticipated. I only grasped the stark reality that I had indeed transitioned into another world.

It wouldn’t be unusual for all my acquaintances to change their numbers simultaneously.

In fact, it would be fair to assume they’re all gone.

Or perhaps I’m the one who vanished.

Realizing this rather colossal fact, I found myself surprisingly calm.

Is this composure stemming from the original ‘me’, or is it a trait inherited from this body’s owner, Ji-eun?

It was a mystery.

The old connections I had and the once-narrow web of human relationships were all now threads I could no longer follow.

Ji-eun’s relationships didn’t seem significantly different from mine.

Saved Contacts (3):

Mom

Dad

Younger sibling

Her contact list was succinct, exclusively made up of family members.

It looked like she lived alone, away from her family.

Her texts and chats indicated some sporadic contact, but they were records from months ago.

Recently, it appeared she hadn’t been speaking to her family or friends much at all. The sole remaining trace was a message from her sibling, but even that had gone unopened by Ji-eun.

There seemed to be some issues at play.

Family conflicts are quite common, really.

There’s a chance she may have even severed ties.

While I couldn’t discern the exact circumstances, it looked like Ji-eun’s life had been equally tumultuous.

With lingering questions about Ji-eun, I continued my clue-seeking mission when a strange sensation hit me.

An uncomfortable feeling primarily originating from my stomach.

As I wrestled with this unidentified sensation, I soon recognized what it was.

It was hunger.

This newfound hunger in this altered body was a perplexing sensation. My already weak physique felt even weaker now. It felt like my starving body had declared a strike.

Grrrrrrr!

…Shall I just grab a bite first?

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