The soft glow of the monitor bathed Hatori Sohma's face in a pale, electric light. His fingers danced across the keyboard with practiced ease, setting the stage for his nightly virtual escapade. He leaned into the camera, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips—a gesture that had become his trademark among the legion of fans who tuned in to watch him conquer pixelated realms.

"Hey Guys! I am your favorite Streamer Hatori Sohma," he announced with a charismatic flair, his voice a warm timbre that felt both friendly and inviting. It was the kind of voice that made you feel like you were in on a secret, part of a select circle that spanned across the globe.

Hatori's eyes flickered with excitement as he swiveled slightly in his chair, an orbit of anticipation building around him. He could already sense the surge of comments flooding the chat, the digital cacophony of his followers' enthusiasm crackling through cyberspace.

With a sweep of his arm as if unveiling some grand surprise, he continued, "Ladies and Gentlemen, What do you want to play with me?" The words rolled off his tongue like a challenge, an open invitation for the viewers to join him on whatever adventure they chose to embark upon that night.

His gaze fixed on the chat, watching it explode with suggestions, ready to dive headfirst into the sea of games his audience desired. This was more than just a stream; it was a shared experience, a ritual where he wasn't just a player, but a conductor of digital symphonies, his audience eagerly awaiting the next performance.

Hatori leaned in, his finger hovering over the mouse as he scanned the rapid-fire suggestions cascading down the screen. The room around him was dimly lit by the glow of his monitors, casting shadows that danced with each shift of his focused expression. His audience's proposals flickered across his vision—a digital mosaic of genres and titles.

"Come on, folks! Give me something juicy, something to get the adrenaline pumping!" he urged, the corner of his mouth ticking up into an impish grin. He loved this part, the unpredictable nature of live streaming, the unscripted moments that defined his connection with his viewers. It was a gamble every time, and that was the thrill.

The chat paused for a split second before a new message popped out, bold and brash amidst the sea of gaming titles. An unknown gamer had tossed their suggestion into the ring, a challenge that made Hatori's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Play 'How to Cum in 2 minutes,'" the message stood alone, stark against the backdrop of typical requests.

A short burst of laughter escaped Hatori, his composure momentarily slipping at the audacity of the request. He shook his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Well, that's definitely not your everyday game suggestion," he quipped, giving a cheeky wink to the camera. "But hey, creativity points for thinking outside the box!"

The corners of Hatori's mouth twitched, hovering between a smirk and incredulity. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, face close to the camera as if sharing a conspiratorial secret with his audience. "Are you kidding me?" he chuckled, the glow of the monitors reflecting in the mischief of his eyes. "Cum in 2 minutes? That's impossible for me, guys. I'm flattered by your faith in my... abilities, but let's keep it to the games we can all play together, yeah?"

The chat erupted, messages cascading faster than falling stars, each one a plea or a cheer encouraging him to take on the challenge. There was no doubt that his viewers loved to see him pushed to his limits, whether it was mastering a new game or humoring their more outrageous requests.

"Please, you can do this!" came the collective call from his digital crowd, their usernames blurring into a single entity of persuasion.

Hatori couldn't help but laugh, feeling the warmth of community even through the cold screen. He raised his hands in playful surrender, knowing full well the power of his audience's enthusiasm. "You guys are relentless," he said with an affectionate shake of his head. "But that's why I love streaming for you all. Your energy is something else!"

His refusal was firm, yet gentle, wrapped in the camaraderie that had become the hallmark of his streams. And still, the chat bubbled with jest and anticipation, eager for whatever would come next from their favorite streamer, Hatori Sohma.

"Okay, then I will do this," Hatori finally capitulated, the corners of his mouth twitching with a resigned smile as he recognized the playful challenge laid before him by his audience. His fingers hesitated for only a moment before they reached for the buttons of his shirt, each one coming undone with an audible pop that seemed to echo in the silent anticipation of the room.

The fabric parted, revealing a hint of skin as he slipped the shirt from his shoulders and let it fall carelessly to the floor. His hands moved with a practiced ease to his pants, unfastening them with a fluid motion that betrayed neither reluctance nor haste. It was a performance, a dance that blurred the line between the person and persona that was 'Hatori Sohma, the Streamer.'

His breath hitched slightly as his fingers found their way, the sensation of touch amplified by the knowledge of the countless eyes that watched through the digital veil. He began rubbing, each movement deliberate, designed to bring about the result that had become an unexpected goal. Time was both friend and foe, ticking away in the quiet recesses of his mind as the chat continued to spur him on without seeing the intimate act.

Then, a soft sigh slipped from his lips, a whisper really, carrying the weight of victory and vulnerability. "I did it—enough for today." The admission came laced with a mix of pride and disbelief, the task completed in the narrow window that had seemed so impossible minutes before.

"See you next time," he said, his voice steady even as his pulse raced. The finality in his tone marked the end of the stream, and with a click, the connection to his audience was severed, leaving behind only the echo of a challenge met and conquered.

"Bye!" Hatori Sohma called out with an air of finality, his voice a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment. The screen faded to black, the digital space that had been alive with his presence now quiet and empty.

Across town, Ji Woong briskly navigated the familiar paths of the university campus, the weight of his backpack a comfortable, grounding presence. His steps slowed as a sudden commotion caught his attention—a figure darted through the crowd, weaving between clusters of students with an urgent grace. Ji Woong's eyes narrowed, focusing on the guy who was clearly trying to put distance between himself and a group of boys in hot pursuit.

In an unexpected twist of fate, the pursued veered off course, his rapid footsteps coming to an abrupt halt behind Ji Woong. It wasn't the hiding place itself that was unusual, but rather the choice to use Ji Woong, an unassuming bystander, as a shield.

Ji Woong remained still, his presence a silent barrier against the chaos that momentarily surged around them. Then, as quickly as it had escalated, the tension deflated—the boys, their hunt thwarted, exchanged uncertain glances, their bravado faltering in the face of Ji Woong's unintentional intervention.

With the threat dispersed, the guy took a step away from his impromptu sanctuary, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Ji Woong turned slightly, giving him a nod of acknowledgement—a wordless assurance that the moment of crisis had passed.

The hurried plea sliced through the morning hubbub, barely audible yet unmistakable in its desperation. "Plz help me," it emerged as a breathless whisper, tinged with the sharp edge of fear. Ji Woong's instincts snapped into focus, and he turned to regard the guy who had sought refuge behind him.

Catching the eyes of the boys who had been giving chase, Ji Woong's expression transformed, his usually composed features hardening into a display of protective defiance. It was enough; the would-be intimidators faltered under his unwavering glare, their confidence dissolving into uncertainty.

"Hey! You are safe now," Ji Woong stated, his voice steady and reassuring, strong enough to be heard over the lingering murmurs of the dispersing crowd. His words were simple, carrying a weight of promise that seemed to blanket the area in an invisible shield of security.

The dissipating echoes of retreat left behind a silence that seemed to magnify the rapid breaths of the guy who had just been cornered. He was still for a moment, as if his body hadn't quite caught up with the sudden cessation of danger. Then, slowly, he turned towards Ji Woong, his eyes conveying a tumult of emotions — gratitude, relief, and an ember of residual fear.

"Thanks for help," he said, his voice a quiet murmur that fought to steady itself. It was sincere, imbued with the rawness of someone who had been snatched from the jaws of distress.

Ji Woong, whose own heartbeat had yet to settle into its regular rhythm, nodded slightly. He noted the way the guy's hair fell in disarray over his forehead, hinting at the scramble that must have preceded their encounter. Reaching out, Ji Woong's fingers wrapped around the other's wrist with an assuring grip—a silent promise that the safety wasn't fleeting.

"What is your name?" His question was gentle, intended not just to learn a name but to restore a semblance of normalcy after the adrenaline-fueled event.

The warmth from Ji Woong's secure hold seemed to seep into his veins, steadying the tremor that had taken residence in his limbs. A flush crept over his cheeks, a soft contrast against the pallor that had set in from fear. He looked up, his eyes meeting Ji Woong's with a vulnerability that was quickly masked by a shy smile.

"Kim Jaehyun," he murmured, his name emerging as a whisper of identity, reclaiming himself from the chaos that had sought to strip it away. The blush deepened, painting a picture of modesty and inadvertent charm.

In that fleeting exchange, there was a silent understanding, as if their brief encounter had etched a line of camaraderie between them. But the sanctuary of the moment was transient; the call of reality was a siren that could not be ignored for long.

Suddenly conscious of the ticking clock and the obligations that awaited, Jaehyun’s gaze flitted towards the building that housed their shared destination. His fingers twitched within Ji Woong's grasp, a nonverbal cue that spoke of impending departure.

Ji Woong felt the shift, the impulse to move on. He released his grip, an unspoken nod to the continuation of their respective days. Jaehyun offered a grateful, fleeting smile before he turned on his heel, his steps hastening into a run that carried him towards the classroom where normalcy and academia awaited.

Ji Woong stood still for a moment, the last echoes of Jaehyun's hurried footsteps fading into the clatter and chatter of the university hallways. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, amusement lighting up his eyes. "How cute," he said under his breath, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief.

He glanced at his watch, noting the minutes slipping by—a silent nudge towards his own obligations. With a deep breath, Ji Woong shouldered his bag and strode towards the classroom, the image of Jaehyun’s blush imprinted in his mind like a bright watermark on an otherwise ordinary day.

Pushing open the door, Ji Woong stepped into the familiar space, the hum of pre-lecture conversations wrapping around him. His eyes scanned the room, instinctively seeking out the one who had already claimed a piece of his curiosity. There, two rows ahead and by the window sat Jaehyun, sunlight casting a halo around his dark hair, making the earlier encounter seem all the more serendipitous.

Ji Woong slid into his seat, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer. The sense of their shared experience, however brief, seemed to have bridged a gap in the crowded room, connecting their separate worlds. In this academic haven where their paths converged, Ji Woong realized with a faint jolt of surprise, they were classmates.

The steady cadence of footsteps approached, and the classroom fell into a hush as the professor made his entrance, his presence commanding an immediate attention. A stack of papers in hand, he moved with purpose to the front of the room, setting down his materials with a precision that spoke of routine and order. The air shifted, anticipation hanging among the students as pens poised above notebooks, eyes trained on the figure who represented the gateway to their expanding knowledge.

As the lecture commenced, Ji Woong found himself only half-listening, the professor's words filtering through his consciousness like background noise to the silent film playing before his eyes. His gaze was fixed on Jaehyun, tracing the curvature of his profile, noting how the sunlight now seemed to enshrine him in a soft glow that somehow made him appear both ethereal and more intensely real.

Ji Woong observed as Jaehyun leaned forward, intent on the professor's every word, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. There was a diligence about him, an earnestness that drew Ji Woong in and held him captive. With each subtle shift of Jaehyun’s shoulders, every small nod of understanding, Ji Woong felt a growing admiration for this stranger who had unknowingly stumbled into his sphere of interest.

Though he should have been absorbing the intricacies of the subject at hand, Ji Woong's thoughts were occupied by the quiet allure of his classmate. He marveled at how life could throw two people together in such an arbitrary yet impactful way. The classroom, once just a place for learning, now held a different significance—it was a space shared with Jaehyun, a detail that colored the monochrome walls with new hues of significance.

The chalk scraped against the blackboard, a sharp counterpoint to Professor Noah's steady voice as he diagrammed the complexities of human anatomy. Students scribbled notes, heads bowed in concentration. But Ji Woong, usually an avid note-taker, was still. His notebook lay open, untouched, his pen forgotten in his hand.

"Can anyone explain the function of the Broca's area?" Noah asked, eyes scanning the room.

A sea of hands shot up, but Noah's gaze lingered on Ji Woong, who sat motionless, his attention elsewhere. A subtle change flickered across the professor's features, a mix of curiosity and mild irritation that went unnoticed by the rest of the class. He cleared his throat, a pointed reminder of his presence at the front of the room.

"Mr. Ji Woong, perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts?" Noah's voice carried a hint of steel now, and several heads turned, following his stare.