I dragged the exported audio file into the MeTube upload box.
Numb_Final.wav
Before clicking confirm, I paused. My fingers hovered over the mousepad. In my past life, copyright laws were a complete minefield. If I didn't handle this right, a major corporate entity would swoop in, claim the digital rights, and strip every single yen of ad revenue from the channel before I could even pay our utility bills.
'I already filed the standard digital copyright registration for the arrangement under my alias last week,' I reminded myself, clicking the upload button. 'As long as the system automated the back-end protection logs, no one can steal the distribution rights in this world.'
The progress bar hit one hundred percent.
[Video Published Successfully]
The second it went live, my hand instinctively moved toward the trackpad to refresh the dashboard page. My eyes darted to the bottom right corner where the real-time analytics counter sat.
Refresh.
[Views: 0 -> 142]
Refresh.
[Views: 142 -> 894]
I stopped myself, physically ripping my hand away from the computer.
'No. Not this time.'
During the first upload, I had wasted hours staring at that stupid spinning wheel. It had completely disrupted my training focus. I had spent every five seconds looking at comments, counting pennies, and letting the digital validation mess with my schedule. I didn't have time to be a slave to an algorithm. I had stats to build.
I slammed the laptop lid shut.
The fan spun down into an abrupt silence.
"I'm not looking at it for a week," I muttered aloud to the empty room, standing up to stretch. "Let the internet do whatever it wants."
The next morning, the summer sun was blindingly bright. I woke up at my usual time, completed my five-kilometer run without a single hiccup, and walked back into the apartment feeling entirely refreshed.
[Current Weight: 131.8 kg]
The scale was consistently dropping, but the mirror was where the real transformation showed. My shoulders looked blocky and solid, my posture was completely straight, and the dark, hollow circles under my eyes had entirely vanished.
When I walked into the kitchen, Aoi was already at the table, a cup of green tea between her hands.
She looked up as the front door clicked shut.
For the first time since I transmigrated into this house, she didn't look away immediately. She didn't stare down at her book or pretend I was invisible. Her eyes locked onto my face, widening just a fraction.
There was something entirely different in her irises. The usual dull, exhausted look she carried was completely gone. Instead, there was a faint, unmistakable warmth as a genuine flash of happiness that made her entire expression look lighter.
"You look... healthy," she said quietly.
I grabbed a clean glass and filled it with tap water. "I told you I was working on it."
"No, it's not just the weight," she murmured, her eyes tracking the way I stood. "You don't look like you're about to collapse anymore. You used to walk like the entire world was pressing down on your neck".
I paused, the glass halfway to my mouth.
'The original Ren really did carry too much,' I thought, a slight pang of sympathy hitting my chest.
"Well, the world isn't that heavy anymore," I replied, giving her a small, reassuring smile.
Aoi's lips twitched upward into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile before she quickly hid it behind her tea mug. The silence that followed wasn't the awkward, tense quiet from a week ago. It was comfortable. Slice-of-life pacing at its finest. We spent the rest of the morning doing chores in tandem-- me lifting the heavy laundry baskets with my newly upgraded strength stat, and her folding the clothes with practiced neatness.
By the afternoon, the summer heat peaked, forcing us to sit near the old electric fan in the living room.
Aoi set her notebook down on the low table, her expression turning unusually serious.
"Ren".
"Mm?" I grunted, keeping my eyes firmly closed as I practiced my Stable Breath technique in a seated position.
"About the music you're putting online."
My eyes snapped open. I hadn't told her about the MeTube channel, but considering how loud the acoustic guitar was through these paper-thin walls, it wasn't exactly a secret.
"If you're going to take this seriously, you need to protect it," she said, her fingers twisting around the edge of her cardigan. "The corporate labels in the city are monsters. If they find out an unregistered artist is pulling massive global traffic, they will trap you in a legal loophole and steal the copyright."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by how much research she had done.
"I already filed the preliminary forms," I told her. "But the official global corporate registration costs quite a bit of upfront capital. I was going to wait for the first ad revenue payout to clear."
Aoi didn't hesitate. She stood up, walked into her small room, and returned a moment later holding a small, faded blue tin box. She set it directly in front of me on the table.
Clack.
I stared at it. "What's this?"
"My savings," she said flatly, crossing her arms. "From the part-time tutoring stipends and the money our parents left before they disappeared. It's not a massive fortune, but it's enough to cover the international legal fees for a standard artistic copyright."
"Aoi, I can't take your--"
"Take it," she interrupted, her voice dropping the usual tsundere edge, leaving only a fierce, protective determination. Her eyes locked onto mine, dead serious. "You spent years standing in front of me so I wouldn't get hurt. You ruined your own health keeping us afloat. If this music is your way out of this dump, I'm not letting some greedy company take it from you just because we're broke."
She pushed the tin box directly against my hand.
"Use it. Secure the song properly. Consider it an investment from your manager."
I looked down at the blue tin box, then back up at her determined face. A slow, genuinely warm grin spread across my lips.
'Don't take it Ren' I thought, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the box.