"Maybe being a VTuber is such a challenging job that not everyone can handle it.
Or maybe it's a profession cursed to make everything around it fall apart."
"Should I just quit being a VTuber...?"
"Hey, stop blocking the door and move aside. I’m here to fix it."
I know these thoughts sound strange and go against common perceptions.
But given my situation, it’s hard to think otherwise.
The lights that refuse to turn on the next day, even when everything seemed fine.
DDoS attacks that seem to target only me while everyone else’s internet runs smoothly.
A motion capture system that works perfectly in every other situation but breaks down the moment a VTuber steps in front of it.
If this happens repeatedly for six months straight, since the debut of our first generation, it stops being suspicion and turns into certainty.
"It’s done. Go ahead and try now."
After restoring the dead sound, I gestured to Akari Dora, one of the first-generation VTubers in our company, who was anxiously watching me from behind.
To be honest, it wasn’t even a big deal.
Sometimes, they stream while eating, and naturally, they push their keyboard or mouse back on the table to make room.
And in that precise moment, they end up hitting the power button on the audio interface that controls all the sound for the stream.
The power button is mounted on the side of the device—that’s why it keeps happening.
I told the previous team leader not to buy this model.
The equipment has an infuriatingly high failure rate, and with the buttons and dials positioned the way they are, it was only a matter of time before problems arose.
Plenty of creators overseas in BachuBachu had reported similar issues.
While I was lost in thought, Dora muttered under her breath as she adjusted her motion capture equipment again.
"This time it’ll work, right? Ugh, this is driving me insane."
"It will. Just let your viewers know right away."
"I feel like I’m aging here..."
"We’ve been waiting so long, we’re practically rotting away."
The viewers, who had been flooding the chat with complaints about when she’d be back, immediately reacted to Dora’s voice.
"So now you’ve fixed it?"
:: Anonymous donor has sent 1,000 clouds! ::
:: "Hey, did you know? You can survive 20 minutes without breathing." ::
"World’s first radiation apocalypse prep broadcast, wow."
"This guy couldn’t even hold his breath for one more minute. Weak, lol."
Thankfully, as soon as Dora realized the sound was working again, she began apologizing profusely in her trembling voice.
"Ah, ah, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Haha... I’m sorry for being an idiot..."
"Still, 20 minutes is pretty quick."
"But haven’t you changed the equipment yet?"
"I told you, machines reject her because she’s a dragon."
"Let’s just roast the management instead."
"Heyyy! If I switch to different equipment, it’ll take forever to get used to it. And someone even came all the way here to fix it for me! Don’t blame management! Support them!"
She really knows how to handle a broadcast.
And she even knows how to protect her staff.
But still, I got here at 2 a.m. in under 20 minutes by taxi, and there’s no way to stop angry viewers in that short time.
If they can’t lash out at their favorite (oshi), they’ll redirect the anger to fan drama.
As someone responsible for monitoring the stream, I couldn’t ignore the audience sentiment, so I checked the chat behind her while she was broadcasting.
"I’m telling you, Dora’s equipment must be cursed."
"Is this really how management handles things?"
"How about some spicy fan art to match the mood?"
"Where are the illustrators? This is your moment!"
It felt like the usual, but the complaints didn’t seem as intense as before.
This has happened so many times now that the viewers seem resigned to it.
“Oh well, another equipment issue. Let’s just lie down and hold our breath until the stream resumes,” was the general vibe.
"Honestly, Dora’s streams have been kind of half-hearted lately."
"Dora fans, tone it down a bit, will you?"
"Recently, Dora fans have been pretty annoying."
Some viewers, tired of the repeated equipment issues, started turning their frustration toward Dora’s fanbase instead of her.
Could it really be the fans’ fault?
The problem lies entirely with our company’s poor choice of equipment.
And sometimes, I can’t help but fantasize about barging into the former team leader’s house with that cursed audio interface he chose at the start of the year.
I told him, didn’t I?
I told him this would cause problems.
While venting my frustration at the imaginary team leader in my head, Dora suddenly shouted.
"Ugh, what do I do? The sound isn’t working again! I turned it off and on like you told me, but it’s still not working!"
Looking at Dora, who was panicking and stomping her feet, I noticed the keyboard had been pushed back again.
Where the keyboard originally was, there were two chewy jellies she had prepared for today’s ASMR mukbang.
Was the audio interface’s power accidentally turned off again? No.
The cursed device not only has its power button but also its main volume control dial on the side.
Good thing I decided to stick around.
If I had left, I’d be getting a call to come back within five minutes.
"Alright, calm down and have some cola."
"No way! I can’t burp during a stream!"
"You’ve already forgotten to mute your mic several times. There are at least five clips of it—"
"Ahhh! That’s so mean!"
Instead of gentle taps, I was hit with firm punches.
Dora, at 171 cm, landed heavy, painful punches.
Yes, it perfectly captured the weight and responsibility of being an adult in the workforce.
As I hailed a taxi to head home, my phone began to ring.
The caller was my “oshi,” the third most popular VTuber in Korea.
With her bright beige hair, pink eyes, and signature wolf ears and tail, she boasted 1.6 million subscribers on YouTube.
It was none other than Momo, the CEO of the VTuber group Parallel, where I currently worked.
[You worked hard again today.]
“Not at all. Dora’s sound issue should be all fixed now.”
[I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to train the second generation thoroughly on their equipment before debut. I’ll also be more careful about equipment selection next time.]
“Well, back then, we were short on people and didn’t have enough time to check everything thoroughly. And besides, isn’t this why you hired me? I’m always arriving to work late, and I don’t have many responsibilities at the office. So, at the very least, I should do things .”
A short sigh escaped from the other end of the line.
[There you go again. You always undervalue yourself. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who fixes issues for the talents without any complaints?]
I fell silent, lost in thought.
Someone who could meet VTubers in person and remain unaffected.
Someone who could endure the constant struggles of the VTuber life while still being a fan.
Someone willing to stay on standby late at night, just in case something came up.
So, as the CEO said, my worth was undeniable.
But looking back, if I hadn’t been caught criticizing her five years ago, I wouldn’t be here working as a company employee now.
Not that I was dissatisfied with my job—it’s just that compared to everyone else at Parallel, I felt so inadequate.
If I hadn’t been caught, I’d probably still be coasting through life, doing part-time jobs, criticizing the CEO, and living without much ambition.
But here I was, in a great environment where I could hear the CEO’s voice daily, watch our first-generation talents’ streams, and go home late at night with a steady paycheck.
I should be thanking the CEO, not the other way around.
…In other words, I’m nothing special.
I only work hard because Momo is my oshi. I think of myself as nothing more than a loyal pup.
Conveniently, the CEO’s fanbase name is “MongMong” (WoofWoof), so whenever she assigned me a tough job, I would jokingly whine, “Mong mong,” to lighten the mood.
“Anyway, I’ll be heading home now. You should get some rest too, Momo.”
[Thank you. Get home safely. Don’t forget you’re substituting for Dora tomorrow at 8 p.m.]
“Yes, I know. I’ve already prepared everything.”
Even someone like me, who was practically the CEO’s personal assistant and willing to handle any task, couldn’t help but feel nervous about this particular assignment.
It was for a segment scheduled for tonight: “Find Rain”, hosted by our first-generation member Aoyagi Rain, who had studied abroad in the United States.
The concept involved picking out the real Rain from among imposters with voice modulation.
Since Dora had to step out due to a family matter, I was chosen as her substitute.
While I’d quietly assisted with Momo’s streams before, this was the first time I’d have to use my voice directly.
And I’d never even pretended to be a net-kama (a man pretending to be a woman online), so I was feeling the pressure.
Imitating idols while being surrounded by them...
“Corporate life isn’t easy...”
Still, as an employee trusted by the CEO, I couldn’t back down from a challenging task.
If Momo was confident that my involvement would make the stream more entertaining, there was no reason to refuse.
After all, I’d watched every single one of Rain’s streams without fail.
I’d spent the past week preparing thoroughly.
If I could just overcome the embarrassment, I was ready to sacrifice myself for our first-generation talents.
When I finally arrived home, I couldn’t stop myself from yawning repeatedly.
Barely able to stay awake, I dragged myself onto the bed and surrendered to sleep.
As my consciousness faded, I mumbled softly to myself:
“Their streams still have a long way to go...”
The next morning, I headed to the bathroom to wash up but found myself locking eyes with my reflection in the full-length mirror.
“What... what is this adorable creature?”
Under the warm morning sunlight, I saw long, jet-black hair with a faint blue tint.
My eyes, an unnatural shade of blue, looked almost out of place for someone Korean.
“Ah, ah... ah. Ahhh! What?!”
The sleepy eyes in the mirror resembled those of a docile herbivore,
and my body had shrunk considerably, matching a voice that sounded like a child’s.
In the mirror, an impossibly cute girl, who could easily be mistaken for a child actor, looked utterly flustered as she touched her own face.
A flurry of thoughts raced through my mind.
Did someone swap my soul while I was asleep?
Was this just a bizarre dream?
And then, the most pressing thought of all:
“If I look , how am I supposed to show up to work?”