= Chris POV =

“Do you mind if I put on some background noise while we work?” Mr. Lee asked as we settled into the tedious task of cutting and pre-packing fruits and vegetables for freeze-drying and dehydrating.

“Sure,” I replied, tearing into a pomegranate.

Mr. Lee opened his laptop, and a familiar voice filled the room. I froze mid-motion. Was that… Sarah?

“Who’s that?” I asked, glancing over as Mr. Lee started working on the guava pile.

“One of my favorite streamers,” he said casually. “She goes by Pink Dreamer and does all kinds of variety streams. Her voice is so soothing, I like listening while I work.”

I set the pomegranate down and moved closer. The screen showed a girl with pigtails chatting as she ate lunch. The room in the background was unmistakable—it was my house. My heart skipped a beat as the girl smiled, raised a glass of orange juice, and chirped, “Cheers!”

It was Sarah.

“Wow,” I said, struggling to keep my tone even. “Didn’t peg you for someone who watches cute girls online, what with having a wife and all.”

Mr. Lee chuckled, missing the sharp edge in my words. “It started because her voice was nice. But when she talked about her toxic love-hate thing with her landlord, I got hooked. It’s messy, but it feels like she’s into them but doesn’t know how to deal with it. The whole chat’s invested—it’s like watching a live train wreck.”

My head snapped toward him so fast I felt a twinge in my neck. “Wait. She talks about her landlord? Like, their private life? Isn’t that a breach of privacy?”

Mr. Lee laughed. “Not when there’s no contract. Apparently, she gets to live for free as long as she sleeps with the landlord, so, you know… not exactly something that’d hold up in court. Honestly, if I weren’t married, I’d be tempted to offer her a place myself. She’s adorable. Half the chat’s doing the same—offering her free room and board. Some are even proposing marriage, saying she wouldn’t have to lift a finger to pay off her debt. Who wouldn’t want a cutie like her in their bed?”

My legs suddenly felt weak. I sank into the nearest chair and pulled off my gloves, running a hand through my hair. How long had she been spilling details like this online? If our arrangement was exposed, how would that reflect on me? Would I lose my job? Face accusations of abuse?

“Anyway,” Mr. Lee continued, oblivious to my growing distress, “we all kind of suspect she has a thing for her landlord, too. I mean, she clearly has options—someone that pretty could stay anywhere. But she’s sticking around, which makes us think the landlord must either be loaded or a total heartthrob. She complains about her situation but refuses to say anything that would really incriminate them. And she’s always going on about how amazing and talented her landlord is.”

I forced myself to stay seated, but my grip on the edge of the table tightened.

“In fact,” Mr. Lee added, “the landlord’s a chef, can you believe it? She’s head over heels for someone in our profession. It’s actually kind of inspiring. On tough days, hearing her talk about how much she admires chefs gives me a little boost. Makes the grind feel more worthwhile.”

My throat felt dry. “Wow,” I managed, my voice tight, “what a… complex individual. What streaming app is she on? I might tune in sometime.”

Mr. Lee handed me his phone, showing the app already open. I memorized the name and pulled out my own phone to download it.

“She’s a hard worker, too,” Mr. Lee said. “She streams during odd hours and her days off, trying to hit a donation goal to pay off the huge debt she owes her landlord. Whether she’s into them or not, no one should be stuck like that. I donate about ¥1,000 every two weeks. It’s not much, but it helps.”

The app finished downloading, and I quickly created an account. My fingers trembled slightly as I searched for her. After a moment, the name Pink Dreamer popped up.

I clicked on the stream.

There she was, finishing the last of her orange juice, her expression dreamy as she chatted about how much she missed drawing in her free time.

“Umm…I’m gonna step out for a bit” I said and walked towards the door, my eyes glued to the screen.

I slipped away to a quiet, secluded rooftop garden, my heart pounding in my chest. Taking out my phone, I also powered up the company laptop I had borrowed, logging into my account. Sarah’s stream played on the laptop’s screen as I prepared to execute my plan.

My brain fought to overrule the panic clawing at my chest. Maybe this isn’t Sarah. Maybe it was just someone who looked eerily like her, a coincidence that had my mind spiraling into paranoia. Surely this had to be a mistake—a bad fever dream I’d wake from any second.

But there was only one way to know for sure.

I would call her.

If Sarah was the streamer—Pink Dreamer—then she would either answer the call mid-stream or react in some way. A professional streamer would have their phone on silent, but if Sarah had been hiding this double life, she might have left it on vibrate. That way, she could spot my messages or calls and respond quickly, shutting down the stream before I got home to avoid exposing herself.

I took a shaky breath, gripping my phone tightly. If she had been lying to me, if she had been streaming secretly and using my house to earn money without telling me, I had every right to be furious. It wasn’t just the lie—it was the audacity of it all. What else had she been hiding while I was out working, oblivious to what was happening under my own roof?

But the thought of confrontation made my stomach churn. I could just… let it go. Pretend I hadn’t seen or heard anything. Write it off as a coincidence—a cruel trick of the universe.

Except for one thing: Mr. Lee.

He had already made her stream his favorite background noise, and chances were, it wouldn’t stop there. I’d keep hearing her voice, her stories, her secrets—every detail she’d hidden from me—until it consumed me. Ignorance wasn’t an option anymore.

I inhaled deeply and dialed her number, my fingers trembling as I hit the call button. It was better to rip the bandage off than let the wound fester.

The ringtone buzzed faintly in my ear as I stared at the screen. On the stream, Sarah continued chatting casually, her bright voice filling the air. She was talking about the rising prices of art materials, gesturing animatedly as if the world were perfectly fine.

At first, nothing happened.

I held my breath, my chest tightening with every passing second.