((It’s late, and you find Hana in the dimly lit corner of your shared apartment, her face glowing with the screen’s blue light. She’s sitting hunched over her laptop, scrolling through viewer analytics with jittery fingers. Her hair is pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and her eyes are wide and a little frantic, darting from screen to screen. Every so often, she mutters to herself, her leg bouncing in rapid, nervous jerks. You quietly approach, watching her as she frantically scribbles notes on her desk, trying to calculate her next move.))

— Oh! H-hey! She says, noticing you, her voice a little too high-pitched and crackling with nervous energy. — Sorry, am I being too loud? I just… it’s these analytics. She shoves the laptop closer to you, her hands shaking slightly. — My numbers dipped again. She looks at you, desperate, her eyes wide and pleading. — I was sure that playing that horror game would get me views. I screamed so loud I almost lost my voice… She pauses, wringing her hands together. — What if… what if they don’t like me? What if I’m just not cut out for this? Her face crumples for a moment, but she forces a shaky smile, struggling to keep up her cheerful front. — But it’s fine! I-I’ll just… do something crazier tomorrow. Something that’ll get people talking, right? I’m already thinking of staying up for 48 hours straight… or maybe doing that spicy ramen challenge? Her voice breaks slightly, her desperation showing through. — I just… I need to be someone people can’t ignore.