If it were up to him, Do-Jin would have just kept playing games and left the rest of the world to burn. However, reality didn’t give a damn about what he wanted. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he couldn’t just ignore all the things being set into motion. Even after logging out, there were still tasks left to do.

“Do-Jin, can you check this before you start your game? It’s the demo version of the new video. The content team lead said the schedule’s tight, so they really need you to look it over today,” Chun Ji-Hyun said.

Chun Ji-Hyun showing up with food in one hand and work in the other had become something Do-Jin had grown way too used to. Although Rael Entertainment still respected his time, they were quite strict when it came to getting content approval. Even if it meant delaying their schedule, they always got his sign-off before moving forward or releasing anything.

Do-Jin knew the drill. Whenever Chun Ji-Hyun shoved work his way, he made it a point to get through it as quickly as possible.

“A demo, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s not the final cut. They said once you give it the green light, they’ll move on to the next stage of production,” Chun Ji-Hyun explained.

Do-Jin shrugged and hit play on episode one of the Forest That Sings of Eternity. The series was split into twelve episodes, which seemed absurdly high-production for a platform like MeTube.

The screen stayed black. Then, out of nowhere, sound bled in. First came the piercing cries of insects, sharp and relentless. Then the branches rustled, followed by the faint burble of a stream. They were the kinds of sounds one would expect in a forest, but here they were twisted, creepy as hell, and stitched together without any real rhythm.

Then came the grim music, seeping into the mix. The black screen rippled, and heavy footsteps joined the soundscape. The camera slowly pulled back. The reason for the rippling became clear. What appeared at first to be a filter was actually the fabric of Do-Jin’s robe.

The perspective widened, capturing the sight of his back as he stepped deeper and deeper into the suffocating dark of the forest.

Forest That Sings of Eternity.

The title appeared on the screen, layered over the scene. Do-Jin was speechless at how much effort went into just the intro. He’d heard they were splitting the whole thing into twelve episodes, but he figured it would be chopped-up gameplay or maybe some highlight reels with fights edited to look flashier.

At this level, it looked more like a full-scale movie than a simple action clip. Before he knew it, Do-Jin found himself sucked into the video. By the time he realized how much time had passed, he had already reached the end of the demo reel.

Finally, he spoke up, “How much money did you blow on this one video? Half of what I just saw didn’t even exist in the raw footage. You guys made it from scratch?”

Do-Jin glanced to the side and saw Chun Ji-Hyun sitting in silence. She wasn’t leaning in to peek like usual. Instead, she sat a good distance away, only watching him with curious eyes.

“What are you doing?” he wondered.

“I’m not allowed to watch that. They told me to show it to you and you only,” Chun Ji-Hyun admitted.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Do-Jin scoffed while letting out a short laugh.

Still, he couldn’t help thinking, If the demo’s already this polished, how much crazier is the final version going to be?

“Tell them the content’s fine. As long as they don’t touch the actual story, they can handle everything else however they want,” he said.

When it came to fields outside his own expertise, Do-Jin knew better than to meddle. He wasn’t going to interfere with professionals who were clearly capable of putting together something of this quality.

***

It had already been almost a month since Do-Jin had wrapped up the hidden quest in Forest That Sings of Eternity. His channel hadn’t seen an upload for even longer than that, so people were getting seriously curious about what he was up to.

└ It’s been over a month without a new video on Do-Jin’s channel. Did something happen?

└ Maybe he’s feeling the pressure. He’s been putting out nothing but hits so far, so maybe he thinks posting something half-assed isn’t worth it.

└ Honestly, I’d watch even a simple hunting vlog. I don’t care, I just want him to post more often...

While fans waited restlessly on edge for his return, the channel answered their prayers and dropped a new video. The video opened on total blackness. Only the eerie sounds of the forest, overlaid with a grim soundtrack, could be heard. The wind whispered through the trees, tugging at the hem of a robe.

Then the camera pulled back, revealing Do-Jin’s figure from behind as he walked deeper into a gray, desolate forest, only to cut off suddenly. The abrupt ending was deliberately designed to leave viewers hanging, barely lasting ten seconds. The teaser alone set off an explosive wave of excitement.

└ A NEW VIDEO IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!

└ IS IT ACTUALLY UP???????

└ IT’S OUT! A NEW VIDEO IS FINALLY OUT!

└ What is this vibe?? Did the editor sell their soul for this?

└ It feels like I’m watching an intro to a movie, lol.

└ Wait, after over a month of screwing around, all we get is a teaser? These bastards have lost it. Just drop the full thing already! You want me to die waiting with my neck stretched out like this?!

That day passed in a frenzy, and the first video titled “The Forest That Sings of Eternity Ep. 1” finally appeared on Do-Jin’s channel. In it, he could be seen retrieving the egg from the Lavre Lake Underwater Cave, then entering the forest to hatch it. Beyond that, the episode simply showed him wandering through the forest, running into a few monsters, fighting, and finally climbing up into a tree to catch some sleep once night fell.

Up until now, Do-Jin’s videos had always been fast-paced. The action was tight, the tension never let up, and his relentless battles left no room for boredom. This time, however, the style was completely different.

└ I thought it would be non-stop from the start, but it’s way too quiet.

└ The only fights are with random monsters. It’s kinda bland.

└ Why drag this out for twenty whole minutes with nothing happening?

└ I actually loved it. The vibe from the forest was amazing, and the constant close-ups of Do-Jin’s face were perfect.

└ Right? When they zoomed in on his face while he stared into the campfire, I legit stopped breathing.

└ Ok but if you stopped breathing you’d be dead, dumbass.

Some people loved the slower, calmer vibe of the video, but a few were unimpressed. However, the response shifted completely starting with episode two. The reason was the sudden appearance of the Watcher at the very beginning.

└ When the Watcher of the Forest dropped out of nowhere, I swear my heart dropped with it.

└ That zombie with the wooden mask has to be hiding something, right? It’s giving me major shady vibes.

└ Yeah I felt that too. The king might’ve said it was his doing, but what if it was actually the zombie behind everything?

└ Everyone else rotted down to bones and turned into monsters, but she’s still walking around looking almost normal. Kinda sus.

The viewers who were used to stories full of twists and reveals from TV series couldn’t help suspecting the Watcher of the Forest in episode two. Although the gloomy tone of the video only made those doubts spread even more, they were once again dismissed by the time episode three rolled by.

Do-Jin and the Watcher searched the forest together, sat by the same campfire through the night, and even shared food. Their conversations hinted at the mystery surrounding a woman who couldn’t even remember her own name, pulling viewers deeper into curiosity.

└ Holy shit, how can a stew-sharing scene hit this hard?

└ This whole series is just pure vibes. I’m obsessed.

└ Nah, she has to be some evil mastermind. If she’s not, then what? If she really spent over five hundred years in the forest all alone, that’s just depressing af...

Starting with episode three, the show drew viewers into empathizing with the Watcher. Then, the story began to pick up pace in episode four. The boss monster Tegran appeared, and the Watcher’s secret was revealed. Her tragic past, piled on top of an even more tragic present, sent her popularity skyrocketing.

└ Guys, I think I turned into the living dead too. When Do-Jin whispered “ignore this shit” right as the truth hit the Watcher, my heart legit stopped for a second...

└ That’s called arrhythmia, bestie. Go see a doctor.

Needless to say, Do-Jin’s own popularity was only climbing higher with each release. Episode five was packed almost entirely with battle scenes. He faced Nua head-on, unleashing dazzling skills that lit up the world while joining forces with Dagne in spectacular combat. The production was so intense, with heavy use of CGI and flashy special effects, that it felt more like a big-budget blockbuster than a simple gameplay video.

Instead of the usual flood of comments debating Do-Jin’s casting speed, instincts as a mage, or ability to read the flow of battle, the comment section was now filled with something else entirely.

└ If our girl with the wooden mask dies, I’m unsubbing, no cap.

└ What the fuck is this? If the damn deer had to go, it should’ve gone down clean. Why pull that shit right there...

└ Do you know what really hits hard? The fact that the Watcher, Dagne, and even Nua were all victims. The real bastards are already dead, so there’s no one left to hold accountable. This whole situation is fucked.

The final scene of episode five showed the Watcher scattering into nothing after saving Do-Jin. The comments were flooded with tributes. Dozens of illustrations appeared online of the Watcher smiling brightly without scars, her face finally at peace.

└ She was already undead, so a happy ending was never in the cards. Still... I just hope she’s somewhere better now, not alone anymore, finally happy.

With that lingering sadness, fans reluctantly let her go. The next day, with the grief still fresh, episode six went live. Nua and Dagne disappeared, leaving Do-Jin alone. He spent a long stretch of time building a grave, the somber scene dragging viewers into the heavy silence of the ending, or so they thought.

From that grave, a silver wolf rose. The Watcher, reborn in spirit, stood in silence with her eyes fixed on the grave Do-Jin had made. Then came the contract. Anemone, a girl who had never once borne a name, whether alive or undead, finally had one. The screen shifted, closing on a single windflower blooming beside the wolf girl, who now slept peacefully by the campfire.

When episode one had aired, Do-Jin’s channel had just passed 8 million subscribers. Twelve hours after episode six went live, that number had exploded past 10 million.