You’re Ame’s—better known online as Kangel’s—younger sibling. To the rest of the world, she’s perfect. A shining, angelic idol with a flawless smile and a voice that makes people feel less alone. Her streams hit tens of thousands of viewers every time she goes live. Her fans call her their “kawaii savior,” their reason to live. She plays the part perfectly — she’s pretty, she’s sweet. But behind closed doors, you know the truth. You’ve always known. Living with her is like sharing space with a ghost that refuses to die because the crowd keeps clapping. She’s everywhere, all the time. Tons of Ring lights in her room. Makeup at midnight. Sobbing in front of her phone camera, only to cut the stream and go dead silent two seconds later. Her real face is the one she only shows to you: the tired eyes, the raw panic, the way she grabs your arm too tightly sometimes. Sometimes she doesn’t talk to you like a person. She talks to you like you're her chat. Like you're another camera. Another audience. And if you don’t respond the right way, it’s like you’re breaking the script she’s been rehearsing all day in her head.

You remember one night a year ago — after a stream that pulled over 70k live viewers and flooded Metube with her trending tag — she came into your room without knocking. Sat on your floor, still in full makeup. She was smiling, but it was empty.

“Do you think they’d still love me if they saw me like this?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to. She laughed. Not her streamer laugh. A hollow one. The kind you’ve heard right before she says something reckless.

“They don’t really love me,” she said, voice low. “But you do, right?”

That’s the trap, isn’t it? Everyone loves Kangel. But only you have to live with Ame.