I didn’t plan to stream.

  I planned to drink a $9 wine and scroll TikTok until the algorithm surgically removed my soul and replaced it with slow-motion cottagecore baking and people crying about frogs to cleanse myself from today's agony.

  But around 11:42 p.m., dangerously emboldened by alcohol, hubris, and the creeping realization that silence was louder than expected, I hit “Go Live.”

  Ketsusaki flickered onto the screen—wide-eyed, mildly cursed, and probably disappointed in me. Her default smirk glitched, one fang floating slightly off her mouth. A visual representation of my state of mind: disoriented, badly lit, and vaguely threatening.

  “Welcome back, my beautifully dysfunctional minions,” I purred into the mic with wine-soaked sweetness. “Tonight, we haunt. We harvest. We hoard emotional damage. And probably corn.”

  [chat]

  [SyntaxError]: WAIT. SHE’S PLAYING THE GAME. THE GAME.

  [Shrimp69]: FARM TOK TIME LET’S GOOOOO

  [EggsInMyWiFi]: oh my god she’s tipsy and playing HauntTok

  [PoppyQT]: drunk haunt stream??? I’m calling the po-po

  HauntTok: Spirit Influencer?. The latest cursed cozy-core indie darling, where you play as a ghost trying to build a following by doing ridiculous favors for the living. It was Stardew meets Twitter if both were run by cryptids. There were ghost chickens. There was spectral skincare. There was a follower count system based on how many cursed memes you could generate while wearing influencer crop tops and dead-eyed ring lights.

  “Today,” I said, already forgetting what button opened inventory, “we rise from the grave... for clout.”

  Ketsusaki’s avatar twitched. Her left horn flickered in and out of existence. It was fine. She was possessed. Or drunk. Probably both.

  The game loaded.

  My haunted avatar spawned inside a glitchy barn full of semi-transparent goats, twitching corn stalks, and one NPC influencer named SageButMakeItSad, who immediately asked me to "please collect ectoplasm and edit my sponsored makeup reel."

  “Relatable,” I muttered.

  I had a clear objective: bake haunted scones and deliver them to the decaying Victorian content house up the hill. A simple quest.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  But then I saw it.

  In the corner of the barn was a rusty stone altar with an enormous glowing red button labeled:

  “SUMMON BRAND COLLABORATION EVENT?”

  I stared at it.

  Chat went feral.

  [chat]

  [PoppyQT]: DO NOT PRESS THE BUTTON

  [SyntaxError]: SHE’S GONNA DO IT. SHE’S ACTUALLY GONNA—

  [Shrimp69]: THIS IS HOW SPONSORSHIP LORE BEGINS

  [LegalGoose]: I AM SWEATING

  “I just wanna see what it does,” I said sweetly.

  And pressed it.

  The screen went black.

  Ominous music played.

  Then a voice—low, glitchy, full reverb—whispered:

  “COLLAB MODE: INFLUENCER FUSION INITIATED.”

  And everything spiraled.

  Suddenly, my ghost avatar fused with SageButMakeItSad. The character model contorted, then snapped upright with glowing LED cat ears, a holographic vape pen, and an aura shaped like a ring light. A cursed overlay slammed over the screen reading:

  “SPONSORED STREAM — #BrandFromBeyond”

  Then my avatar began uncontrollably reciting haunted skincare discount codes in Latin.

  “REMEMBER TO MOISTURIZE... OR ELSE. CODE KETSUGRIM FOR 13% OFF ETERNAL SERUM.”

  The barn lights flickered.

  A chicken combusted in the background.

  My in-game camera shook as if the algorithm itself was trying to escape the timeline.

  I tried to pause.

  Instead, I accidentally triggered the built-in stream mode.

  A fake chat overlay popped up, simulating viewer reactions as possessed NPCs spammed:

  “YASSS QUEEN DROWN ME IN YOUR SHADOW SERUM”

  “#DEADBUTDEWY”

  “YOUR AURA IS SO AESTHETICALLY DECAYED OMG”

  Real chat imploded.

  [chat]

  [Shrimp69]: THIS IS PEAK VTUBING

  [SyntaxError]: NEW LORE JUST DROPPED

  [WiFiEgg]: SHE’S THE FIRST STREAMER TO BE SPONSORED BY A DEMON. CANON.

  [PoppyQT]: THE CHICKEN IS BACK AND IT’S GRITTYING

  Then the chicken did, in fact, gritty across the altar in flames.

  Ketsusaki’s model glitched again—horns vibrating, eyes rolling backward like she was buffering in real-time.

  “I think,” I wheezed, “we’ve entered monetization hell.”

  I laughed.

  And then I really laughed.

  Full-on cackling. Unhinged, wine-fueled laughter.

  I slapped my desk.

  Someone clipped it instantly.

  I ended the stream somewhere around 2:03 a.m., flushed, breathless, clutching a half-empty wine glass and surrounded by chat still crying from laughter.

  “Okay,” I whispered into the mic. “That’s enough chaos for one night. Hydrate. Haunt your enemies. And never—never—trust buttons in indie games.”

  I clicked End Stream.

  ~

  By morning?

  The clip had 2.6 million views on X.

  5.1M on TikTok.

  Trending tags included:

  #CollabWithTheDead

  #CodeKetsu

  #HauntedSponsorshipArc

  #BrandDealFromBeyond

  #DeadButDewy

  #Grimfluencer

  Even a minor gaming news blog picked it up:

  【VTuber Ketsusaki Goes Viral With Haunted Brand Deal Glitch, Becomes Unofficial Mascot of Influencer Hell.】

  Legacy: cemented.

  Brain: mashed.

  Reputation: Gone.