“They keep making fun of me,” Kronii complains. As you vividly recall, she went out of her way in her streams to build up a sadistic, haughty personality. “I’m not an autistic dork!” You couldn’t resist retorting: “So you admit that you’re a dork then?”
“That’s not what I mean,” Kronii growls under her breath, her face flushed beet red as she realizes how she phrased things. You can’t help but find her murmurs to be endearing. As you stretch out your hand to meet hers, she grabs your left wrist first. “I’ve got a great idea!” she blurts out, almost stumbling over her own words out of sheer excitement. Her face betrays her mischievous intentions, causing you to monologue the Navy Seals copypasta in your mind. Something tells you that your little retort may have been a rather sub-optimal idea.
You inquire what she means as you try to pull your hand away. Her grip tightens. “You’ll see.” In the meantime, she frantically whacks away at her phone. You remember buying it for her a new phone for her birthday. Even though she told you she didn’t want anything, you couldn’t stand the thought of her endlessly continuing to tap away on the broken screen of her five-year old obsolete device out of a misplaced sense of frugality – especially when she makes in a day what you do in a month. Your train of thought is interrupted by a notification on your own phone. Kronii set up a stream. Its title reads: “【Guerilla】Putting an Insolent Viewer in His Place”.
You look at her, then back at the phone, then back at her, then back at the phone. “Uh… You wouldn’t possibly be kind enough to explain what it is you have in mind, would you?” you try to ask as politely as possible. You got interrupted before you even got to “explain” with a very clear response: “No.”
You resign yourself to your fate as she gleefully drags you away to her streaming room. The piercing green background never really gets easier on the eyes, but you realize that its piercing color is the whole point. As you ponder such trivial matters, Kronii starts streaming. You dare not say a word for the iron grip around your left wrist reminds you why you are in this situation in the first place.
You hear her say her usual greeting “Kroniichiwa.” It sounds filled with a mixture of emotions that you have difficulty identifying. She doesn’t bother asking how everyone in chat is doing and skips straight to the point: “Today, we’ll do something fresh! With me I have a viewer.” She pauses for dramatic effect. Chat explodes into a torrent of comments that can be accurately summarized as an endless stream of painful yelps of street dogs being jealous because one of their kind was adopted by a rich family. “Is that jealousy I hear in chat? Don’t worry, you wouldn’t want to be this guy.” You want to cry for help but Kronii’s time powers have paralyzed your mouth and vocal muscles. Time is a fickle mistress, after all.

A sword with beautifully ornamented handles pierces your chest.