The taxi crawls through Seoul traffic, and I’ve got less than fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant before I have to be at the studio. The driver finds a spot to let me out near the raw beef place, and I thank him, grab my bag, and step into the humid afternoon. Inside, they seat me near the back. I’m starving.
Yesterday I stayed up until six in the morning preparing for today’s cosplay league event, and I barely slept. I order the yukhoe bibimbap—my go-to. The owner brings out the beef and rice separately, with a small dish of seasoned raw beef on the side. I mix it together, add a little gochujang, and take a bite.
It’s good. Really good. The owner says he changed it up a bit today, and I can taste the difference. I tell him it’s excellent.
I eat quickly, watching the clock. I’ve got to be at the venue by five. There’s a competition later, and I’m participating in the cosplay. My part only takes about twenty minutes, but I still need to get there in time.
The chat on my stream is active—people are saying hi. I wave at the camera and keep eating. Between bites, I check my phone. It’s already been thirty minutes.
I have to move. I finish the rice, pay, thank the owner, and step back outside. The sun is out, but the forecast said rain later tonight. I forgot my umbrella again.
I’ll have to buy one on the way. I walk toward the subway, chatting idly to whoever’s watching. Someone asks about my plans for next week. I say my friend mentioned coming back to streaming this winter, and we promised to do a broadcast together when she returns.
Another person asks about the car I’ve been thinking about buying. I’ve been serious about it. I was looking at a Hyundai Tucson, maybe leasing one for around 600,000 won a month, but I keep going back and forth between a new lease and buying a used car outright. It’s a big decision, and I’m still weighing it.
The conversation drifts to food. I mention the best mulhoe I ever had was in Incheon, right by the sea, after we built a sandcastle there last summer. Someone asks about the fish restaurant I went to after that. I tell them about the place in Busan where the owner keeps building new buildings, and how you can get a whole flounder for 30,000 won.
I say I want to learn how to eat better, like my senior streamers do—matching the right food with the right drink. I glance at the time. I really need to go. I say goodbye to the viewers, telling them to drive safe because the rain might come down hard later.
I say I’ll see them at the main broadcast tonight. The subway ride is short. I stop at a convenience store to grab an umbrella, then hurry to the studio. I’m cutting it close.
When I get there, a few of the others are already setting up. My group’s slot is coming up soon. I change into my costume, check the mirror, and take a breath. I’m not the most competitive person, but I hate coming in last.
Last time I lost, I had to do a penalty, and I don’t want that again. I step out onto the floor. The lights are bright. The crowd is small but warm.
I do my bit—twenty minutes of posing, acting, and playing the character. I hear some cheers from the front. It goes by fast. Afterward, I pack up my gear.
My back hurts from standing all day, and I’m still a little tired from last night, but the adrenaline’s worn off into something calm. The weather outside turned gray. It’s starting to drizzle. I pull out the new umbrella and head for the subway station.
Back home, the room is muggy. I left the balcony window open a crack, and the rain earlier soaked the chairs I had out there. I’ll need to clean that up tomorrow. I set my bag down, wash my face, and sit on the floor for a while.
The broadcast is over. The competition is done. There’s nothing else scheduled. I think about the week ahead.
Tomorrow is my day off. A friend wants to stream together. Next Saturday there’s another event. The car decision is still hanging over me.
I should probably decide soon. But for tonight, I’m just tired. I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. The rain taps against the window.
I fall asleep before I can finish planning what comes next.