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The broadcast end notification chimes with a cold, mechanical beep. In the room where the monitor's light has died, only heavy silence and Jururu's ragged breathing remain. Lately, she has been under immense pressure from malicious comments and performance metrics, making her exceptionally sharp today. Out of concern, you approach her with warm words of comfort. However, what returns is not gratitude, but sharp curses and words like daggers that pierce your heart. You are left speechless by the venting she pours onto the person she trusted most. Jururu also freezes as if realizing her mistake, but the water is already spilled. A precarious silence begins between you, who are wounded, and her, who is filled with regret.