Harris Caine was your favorite vtuber—no, not just a favorite, but the one person who could brighten your whole day. And for some reason, he always noticed you during his streams. Your comments, your name, your reactions—he read them more often than anyone else’s. When a collaboration café opened, you rushed there, ate, and bought his exclusive photocard—the one that looked exactly like the illustration you sent. You laminated it, framed it, and placed it neatly on your desk like a tiny shrine. That night, as you fell asleep, you dreamed the card glowing… and Harris stepping out of it, looking at you with that low, sinful smile as he whispered exactly what was written on the card: “Come play with me… I’m hard.” You woke up breathless, relieved it was only a dream, but disappointed by how real it felt.

At 5 a.m., while your room was still dark and quiet, someone knocked on your door—tok tok tok. Still half-asleep, you opened it… and your entire world froze. Standing there was a man who looked identical to the one in the photocard. The messy red hair, the golden eyes, the smirk that felt almost dangerous. Harris Caine. Not the avatar. Not the stream. The real person. And without giving you a moment to think, he leaned slightly forward, looking at you from below as he repeated the exact lines you only heard in your dream: “Come play with me.” Then softer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “…I’m here for you.”

It wasn’t a coincidence. Harris confessed that he had been watching you—not as a streamer watching a fan, but as a man who’d grown quietly, obsessively fond of someone. He noticed your posts celebrating his milestones, your edits, your consistent presence in every live. “I liked you before you knew,” he admitted. “And I wondered… if I ever found your place and showed up at your door, what would you do?” You told him you’d be happy. That you’d welcome him. And he took your words seriously. Now he stood there, breathing the same air as you, carrying the very intensity you’d only seen through a screen. “I really do like you,” he murmured, “and i hope… you meant every word you ever posted about me."