‘Is this really the end for today too?’
The streamer, Exitra, stared blankly at the screen.
His expression was lifeless.
Today, he was planning to shut down the stream he had been running for the past few years.
There was a bit of regret, but he didn’t have any lingering attachment.
Only about ten viewers had shown up to the stream.
While streamers who had started around the same time were now being called major influencers, Exitra was still stuck at the very bottom.
Over the past few months, his stream had barely drawn ten viewers at a time.
In the past, at least a few loyal viewers would tune in.
But even they had left for streamers who were more entertaining, better at the game, smarter, or had more engaging personalities.
Exitra, who lacked any particularly special skills, couldn’t do anything to hold onto them.
‘Still, I did my best for the viewers who stayed until the end. But I guess this really is the limit.’
The last remaining viewers stayed with him until the very end of his final broadcast.
So he wanted to say a proper goodbye—one that meant something.
“Everyone.”
– [Yes? What is it?]
– [Huh?]
“I just wanted to say thank you for watching my last stream today. I was hoping we could chat a bit. Do you have some time?”
– [Time? Haha, of course! I’ve got nothing but time.]
– [Absolutely~]
“Really? That’s great.”
Exitra gave a slightly bitter smile.
These ten viewers had stuck by him from the very first broadcast until now, his final one.
He felt an immense gratitude that couldn’t be compared to anything else.
“By the way, do any of you watch other streamers?”
– [I only watch yours, Exitra.]
– [I watch Dogrye’s streams!]
– [Of course I watch Dog’s streams.]
– [Nope, no one else.]
Everyone had their own preferences and followed other streamers too.
But one viewer was different.
– [I don’t watch anyone besides you, Exitra.]
“Aw, come on~ Don’t lie. That can’t be true.”
Exitra smiled.
He took the comment as simple flattery.
“Still, it feels nice. I was feeling kind of down since it’s the last broadcast, but I didn’t expect someone like Chronos to say that.”
Chronos wasn’t the type to chat much.
He occasionally donated or subscribed, but this was the first time he’d talked this much.
He never imagined that Chronos would be the one to say something so flattering.
– [I mean it.]
“Haha, alright~”
Some of the bitterness in Exitra’s heart faded.
Even if it was just a lie, the thought that someone had watched only him felt nice.
Meanwhile, the number of viewers continued to drop.
It was the last stream anyway.
Most of the remaining viewers didn’t seem to plan on staying until the very end.
“Do you have any questions about me? I’ve never done a Q&A during my streams before. Since it’s the last one, I thought maybe we could do one. What do you think?”
– [Sounds good.]
Only Chronos replied.
There were seven viewers left.
The rest didn’t respond, so they were probably just lurking with the stream on in the background.
Or maybe they had gone AFK.
‘Well, I guess that’s how it is.’
It was a bit disheartening, but this was the reality.
This was the kind of ending one could expect from a small, unknown streamer.
“Alright then, what do you want to know?”
– [Why are you quitting streaming?]
‘Of course.’
Exitra had been expecting this question.
He hadn’t written a detailed explanation in the broadcast notice either.
In fact, that notice had only one view.
Which likely meant only Chronos had seen it.
“Well, to be honest… I’ve hit my limit.”
– [Your limit?]
“Yeah. My health isn’t that great, and my family’s situation isn’t exactly stable either. So I figured I should try to find something else I can do. Honestly, I’m not making any money from streaming.”
Some of the other streamers who started around the same time were making millions of won a month—some even earning in the billions.
But Exitra was different.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he made nothing at all.
He was running a YouTube channel too, but he couldn’t afford to hire an editor.
So he edited everything himself, which meant the quality was poor.
And since he didn’t have any special gimmick or appeal, his videos didn’t gain traction.
Views were low, and his subscriber count was stuck at four.
What really broke his heart was—
“My parents have worked really hard for me. I want to finally be someone who can support them.”
Exitra’s gaze turned wistful.
His parents had endured so much for his sake.
He wanted to let them rest now.
He didn’t have any particular skills or qualifications, but he was determined to find something that could at least earn some money.
These days, there were even support systems in place for people with health issues, so he was planning to look into those.
Then, Chronos asked:
– [Do you regret streaming?]
“No. Never. If I could go back in time—this might sound immature—but I’d probably choose to stream all over again.”
– [So, if you could go back to that time, would you still choose to stream?]
“Yes.”
– [I see. Oh, and…]
Chronos continued to ask a few more questions after that.
Most of them were about personal details, and some were a bit hard to answer.
Other viewers joined in and asked questions too, and as long as he could answer them, he did so sincerely.
***
“Hahaha, you’re all really curious about me, huh?”
– [Yes, we’re fans!]
– [Ah! I’m a fan too!]
– [I really enjoyed your streams, Exitra…]
Fan.
That one word made Exitra’s emotions rise and fall like a tide.
“Thank you so much for watching my streams until now.”
Exitra bowed deeply at a 90-degree angle to the viewers.
He was genuinely grateful.
From beginning to end, they had watched him.
He wanted to repay them somehow—but it hurt that he couldn’t.
– [Can I ask just one more thing before you go?]
“Ah! Of course.”
– [If you could go back in time about seven years, would you do it?]
“Seven years ago?”
– [Yeah.]
Exitra paused at that question.
He was trying to figure out the intention behind it.
But he didn’t need to think for long.
“Yes, I’d like to. If I could go back, I think I’d be able to stream even better than I did now.”
Exitra replied and checked the time.
It was already late at night.
Originally, his stream was supposed to end at 11 p.m.
But with all the conversation, it had become midnight.
“Ah, it’s late now. Then… Chronos, Redin, Kangmin, Kamin…”
Exitra called out the names of the remaining viewers one by one.
“Thank you so much for watching my humble stream. I’ll be going now.”
– [Ek-ba! (Exitra bye!) You worked so hard!]
– [Ek-ba…]
– [It was really fun.]
And with that, Exitra ended his final stream.
Just before the stream shut off, Chronos typed one last message:
– [See you next time.]
But Exitra, already in the process of turning it off, didn’t see it.
And then, he returned to reality.
“Whew…”
Exitra—real name Minseop—took off his headset.
He had been streaming a game in a virtual reality space using a VR connector.
Originally built for virtual reality games, the space had recently been adopted in various fields—especially by BJs and streamers as a broadcasting platform.
“Minseop, are you done?”
“Huh? Were you waiting for me?”
Minseop looked to the side, surprised.
His mom was standing there.
She smiled gently as she looked at him.
“It was your final stream, wasn’t it? So I waited.”
“Haha, sorry to keep you waiting. It went a bit long since it was the last one.”
“Did it?”
“Yeah.”
Minseop looked at his mother’s face.
Her hands and face were filled with wrinkles.
She hadn’t always looked like this, but recently, she had been working a lot, and the wrinkles had deepened.
Every time he saw them, it broke his heart.
‘I’ve made her suffer too much.’
“You must be tired now. Get some sleep—it’s really late.”
“Ah, okay.”
“You don’t need to go to the bathroom or anything?”
She asked gently, and Minseop shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
“Alright. If you need anything, call me right away.”
“Okay.”
“Then…”
She left the room, turning off the light.
Minseop lay down on his bed.
“What should I even do from now on… with these legs…”
Ten years ago, Minseop had been in an accident that left him unable to move his legs.
Because of that, his options were limited.
The reason he chose streaming was because, in virtual reality, he could still earn money without needing to move.
Of course, it had all ended in failure.
If only he hadn’t listened to that advice back then, maybe he could’ve gathered the courage to try something like the civil service exam.
Even if he didn’t have the best grades, and even though it would take a lot of time and money to prepare, he still needed a way to make a living.
‘If I hadn’t heard those streamers and BJs on TV bragging about making over 10 million won a month…’
‘What would he have done?’
Probably something else entirely.
To be honest, saying he didn’t regret it would be a lie.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he had succeeded—but he didn’t.
Still, rather than regretting something you didn’t do, if you’re going to regret it anyway, it’s 100 or even 1,000 times better to have tried and failed.
“Sigh… Let’s just sleep. I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow and figure out what to do next…”
Minseop closed his eyes.
And slowly drifted off to sleep.
***
“Son! Wake up!”
He heard his mother’s voice.
“Minseop, it’s morning!”
At the word “morning,” Minseop woke up.
It felt like barely 10 minutes had passed since he closed his eyes—’how could it be morning already?’
‘Did I sleep that deeply??’
Minseop opened his eyes and sat up.
He saw his mom standing there to wake him.
Blink, blink.
Minseop blinked in confusion.
Then he rubbed his eyes, disbelief written all over his face, and looked at her again.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Mom.”
“Hmm?”
“Did you… secretly go out and get Botox or something while I was sleeping?”
His mother… had gotten younger.