Fear.
The emotion of being afraid of something.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to Ha-eun. In fact, it was probably one of the most familiar emotions she had ever known.
After all, the very reason Ha-eun first started acting was out of fear of her parents in her past life. And when her performance as a healthy child faltered due to a minor slip, the first emotion to engulf her was also fear.
However, fear was not one of the emotions her parents allowed her to express toward them. She had been forced to learn how to suppress it early on.
Perhaps that was why Ha-eun rarely showed fear, and why there had been so few occasions for her to even feel it.
“I plan to stream Shirooni this Wednesday.”
[Hmm, it’ll definitely have an impact, but... are you sure you’ll be okay?]
“Yes. I’m confident.”
Ha-eun confidently assured her VTuber manager over the phone while scheduling her stream. She hated being worried about by others, even now.
Shirooni, as a horror game, wasn’t considered particularly scary. Its graphics were cute 2D pixel art, far from the hyper-realistic 3D visuals of modern horror games.
So Ha-eun thought she could clear it easily. All she needed to do was focus on showcasing Diah’s new reactions.
In hindsight, it was a grave miscalculation.
“A-There was nothing here earlier! Where the hell did that come from?!”
Her breathing became erratic.
Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it might burst.
And her avatar? It collapsed backward as if it had fainted.
...This is bad.
Every detail was undeniable proof: Ha-eun was genuinely scared.
Her plan to “act scared like a child” as Diah had gone out the window.
She knew Shirooni’s storyline inside and out. She remembered most of the traps and mechanics. Her plan was to play smoothly enough not to frustrate her audience but still get caught by traps or yokai occasionally for dramatic effect.
The problem was, the version of Shirooni she remembered was from several years ago. The version Diah was playing had been updated multiple times since then.
So when she tried to hide in a storage room:
It was only natural.
The most potent fear is the fear of the unknown.
Ha-eun, who thought she had grown immune to fear, realized she was utterly unprepared for the unknown.
The fear she was accustomed to was “learned fear,” based on things she understood. But Shirooni thrived on sudden jump scares and the unpredictability of when or where the white yokai might appear.
“Piano... the third key on the right...”
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
Screeeech!
RAWR!!
“?! I-I didn’t even press it yet!”
[Silica donated 10,000 won!]
: The yokai might explode from eating you so much.
[MoranParrots donated 10,000 won!]
: Hmm, your face isn’t evenly cooked. Disqualified.
“My f-face isn’t food!”
By the two-hour mark, Ha-eun realized she hadn’t even reached the annex, the main area of the game.
...This won’t work.
Determined to stop relying on her faulty memories, she mentally erased everything she thought she knew about Shirooni.
“Okay, I’ve already checked the bathroom and storage room. All that’s left is—”
[Crash!]
[RAWR!!]
“Why the fireplace?! There are so many other places to hide!”
Fortunately, the story began progressing bit by bit. After solving all the puzzles in the mansion’s basement, she managed to escape a chasing yokai through a hidden passage.
“Open the door, Diah! It’s going to catch me!”
“No way! You’re already a yokai!”
: Clear it without dying, and I’ll add 40,000 won.
[PrivateJetLover donated 10,000 won!]
: I’ll add 60,000 to that!
No one believed Diah could succeed, but Ha-eun was ready.
“Up, down, up, right, down, left, up, up—jump!”
“Everyone who doubted me, get down on your knees!”
[Grab!]
“?!”
[RAWR!!]
A yokai dragged her back into the depths, killing her instantly.
Finally, the “Thanks for Playing!” screen appeared. She moved the cursor to close the game when—
[Crash!]
[RAWR!!]
The white yokai screamed again, startling her so much that her avatar fell over, seemingly fainting.
The chat exploded:
Later that night, still haunted by the game’s final jump scare, Ha-eun found herself standing outside her parents’ bedroom.
“Can I... sleep here tonight?”
“Huh? Did you have a bad dream?”
“...Something like that.”
Slipping between her parents, she found comfort in their embrace, finally letting herself relax.
***
"How's Ha-eun doing?"
"She doesn't seem to be in bad shape."
"Phew... that's a relief."
It was about two hours before the live finals of SIT ON THE MONEY.
Having been busy running errands all morning, Lee Geon-yeol and Lee Jun finally arrived at the waiting room, where they quietly observed Ha-eun.
Their concern was solely focused on ensuring Ha-eun’s condition was optimal. This SIT ON THE MONEY finale was, after all, Ha-eun’s—or rather, Pinocchio’s—first live stage. They wanted to do everything they could to support her.
However.
"Um, excuse me, guys. The person I mentioned before just arrived. Would it be okay if I stepped out for a moment?"
Ha-eun had just received word that her acquaintance had reached the venue. She politely asked for permission to leave the waiting room briefly.
"Make sure you don’t get recognized. Wear a hat and mask."
"Got it."
"Wait a second. Just in case, use the back exit. This writer here will guide you."
They entrusted a staff member with keeping Ha-eun’s identity hidden. And so, Ha-eun left the room, accompanied by the staff member, to meet her guest.
Navigating through narrow emergency corridors, Ha-eun walked and walked until, at last, she reached the venue entrance.
"Sorry for dragging you out on a Friday night, reporter."
"Ah, no need to apologize. It’s Ha-eun we’re talking about. Of course, I had to come."
There, Ha-eun finally met her only invited guest for the SIT ON THE MONEY finale: reporter Heo Joo-eun.