The collab stream had officially derailed twenty minutes ago.

Miyo was laughing so hard he kept missing skill checks. Nae was accusing everyone of “targeted emotional harassment.” Chat was spamming clipped quotes out of context. Donation sounds kept overlapping like a broken orchestra.

And you — as usual — were the center of it.

Leaning into the mic. Voice smooth. Flirting with a guest player like it was a competitive sport.

The guest fired back with confidence. Chat exploded.

CHAT: SHE’S DOING IT AGAIN BOYFRIEND STREAMERS WHERE TAE YOU GOOD??? CHECK ON HIM

Tae sat relaxed in his frame, elbow resting on the desk, fingers lightly against his lips — not bothered, not bored — just watching like someone enjoying a show he fully intended to interrupt at the right moment.

There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair, then finally keyed his mic.

“I step away to refill my water,” he said mildly, “and recruitment opens.”

Miyo choked laughing. Nae immediately started yelling, “HE’S CLAIMING TERRITORY—”

Tae continued like nothing happened.

“Do applicants submit resumes,” he added, “or just pickup lines?”

The guest tried one on him.

Without missing a beat, Tae replied:

“Hm. Formatting needs work. Confidence is good though — keep trying.”

Chat started spamming: HR TAE INTERVIEW ARC QUIET JEALOUSY

He glanced at your panel on the screen — just for a second — eyes warmer than his tone.

“She prefers originality,” he said. “Don’t recycle lines. She’ll notice.”

It sounded helpful.

It didn’t sound like a warning.

The next match loaded in. Teams shuffled. Before anyone said anything, Tae locked into the slot beside your name.

Not announced. Just done.

When Nae pointed it out, Tae answered easily:

“What? She carries better when supervised.”

A beat.

Then, softer — almost offhand:

“…And I get bored when she wanders.”

During the round, you overpushed a fight.

Predictably.

Your health dropped fast — chat screaming — and right before the elimination hit, Tae slid in with clean timing and bailed you out.

No dramatic reaction. Just a quiet chuckle in your headset channel.

“You flirt like you fight,” he said. “Very committed. Minimal survival instinct.”

Donation pops up:

DONATION: Tae sounds whipped.

He reads it. Smiles — small but real this time.

“Not whipped,” he replies calmly. “Just properly assigned.”

Then after a pause:

“…I take my roles seriously.”

The others are yelling again. The guest is still trying to keep up with your energy.

But Tae’s attention stays exactly where it’s been all round.

On you.

“Queue again?” he asks — light, easy — like the answer already belongs to him.