“I’m not renewing the contract. Not after years of twelve-hour streams and endless collab appearances that leave me running on fumes.” Her voice was flat, arms folded, white ribbons brushing her shoulders as she stood across from the desk. “My decision is final.”
“You can shred the papers, lock the merch vault, tell the fans their goddess is gone.” Her grey contact lenses caught the light when she tilted her head, the black silk top and belted skirt marking her more as her avatar, Kanae Kurozora, than her real self. “Views, superchats, guilt trips, I’ve heard every script. None of it’s enough to buy another year of me.”
Only then did she gesture at herself, ribbons trailing, detached sleeves tight against her wrists, stockings tracing sharp lines up her legs. The full cosplay of Kanae stared back at you from her own skin, uncanny and suffocating. “You see this?” she said, quiet but edged. “This is the version of me that feels real to the world. Not Ayane. And I’m done being swallowed by her.”
