Chapter 11 : Fake show

Star Record’s Third Generation

Third generation. The term “third gen” simply refers to being the third batch of recruits.

It’s natural to wonder—why even divide us into generations?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just call us by name?

Is it just for organizational purposes?

A way to differentiate between when people joined?

Sure, those reasons play a part.

But there’s a more fundamental one.

Most virtual entertainment companies adopt this generational system for a simple reason:

“To create synergy within the group.”

Each new generation debuts with their own solo streams, followed by a group collaboration.

The idea is to establish chemistry early on—collaborating frequently, mentioning each other during solo broadcasts, and naturally building rapport for the audience to witness.

Take, for example, a fan who stumbles upon Sera.

If they watch enough of her streams, they’ll hear her frequently mention Uriel.

“Who’s Uriel?” they’ll wonder.

And from there, they’ll check out Uriel’s content.

Then, through Uriel, they’ll be introduced to Hana and Kyuri, the other third-gen members.

Eventually, their curiosity will lead them beyond just our generation—to our senpai in Star Record’s first and second generations, as well as other streamers we’ve collaborated with.

Much like how networking works in real life—academic ties, regional connections, family lineage—VTuber agencies operate similarly, using lines of connection to share and expand their viewer base.

This strategy is called the “revolving door method.”

By ensuring that fans cycle through different members of a group, companies maximize engagement, keeping audiences locked into their content morning, noon, and night—forever watching only their agency’s talent.

When I first realized this through my system interface, I was terrified.

“So this is how it works at a corporate level, huh?”

As long as it turns a profit, the company doesn’t care how deep into the abyss their viewers fall.

And the sad part?

If I wanted to thrive in this industry, I’d have to play along.

There was no other way.

For the revolving door method to work, groups often coordinate their schedules so that one member streams in the morning, another in the afternoon, and someone else at night.

Star Record, however, doesn’t strictly enforce this.

With so many members now, overlapping is inevitable.

Regardless, as third-gen members, we had to lay the groundwork for this strategy.

That groundwork?

Our collaboration stream—happening right now.

By laughing together, goofing off, and showcasing our chemistry, we subtly tell viewers:

“This is the third generation! Look at how fun we are!”

And, of course, we sprinkle in a little something extra.

“Business yuri.”

That was a phrase I only learned after joining Star Record.

So, naturally, when Si-eun asked, “Are you okay with business yuri?” I blinked in confusion.

“Huh?”

She had to explain it to me—how some VTubers intentionally play up a certain vibe with each other.

Not to the extent of outright flirting or making crude jokes, but just enough to subtly suggest things—allowing shippers to interpret it how they want.

Chatting, fanart, inside jokes—it’s all encouraged, as long as it fuels engagement.

I mean, it makes sense.

Some people enjoy watching VTubers tease each other with romantic undertones.

And after experiencing my previous life, I learned that people have all kinds of tastes.

Furry fans exist in droves—so a little yuri baiting? That’s nothing.

Back to the Collab…

So, in summary—

Our third-gen collab had three main goals:

Introduce ourselves.

Show off our dynamic.

Throw in some spicy moments for the fans.

…Honestly, that’s kind of a lot.

But we can do this! We’re a team!

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

And then—

I froze.

The chat exploded with laughter.

[LOOOL]

[She just turned into a statue wwww]

[Why does it feel like we can see her real expression behind the avatar?]

[Sera, you’re way too easy to read LOL]

[SHE’S DISAPPOINTED HAHAHA]

[Where is the third-gen unity??]

[What kind of answer were you expecting? LMAO]

[Honestly, this isn’t even that bad]

[I can already tell who wrote what LOL]

The chat scrolled by rapidly as they reacted to the nickname reveal segment.

“Surprisingly Harmless”

“Idiot…?”

“Boomer”

I could accept being called an idiot.

The “…?” at the end was what really annoyed me.

And “surprisingly harmless”??

Of course I’m harmless!

What, did they expect me to be dangerous?

As for “boomer”—yeah, I saw that coming.

I’d just been bantering with Su-yeon about how she’s supposedly 600 years old, so it was obviously a joke.

Well, if she’s going to play it that way—

“Time to retaliate.”

“Boomer? In a country that prides itself on respecting elders, isn’t it only natural to show courtesy to your seniors?”

“And idiot? I am NOT an idiot! I’m probably the smartest spirit you’ll ever meet!”

“-Boomer-“

Su-yeon cut me off with a single word.

Chat exploded again.

[LOOOOOOL]

[She just called her out in one syllable]

[Uriel is really going all in on this lol]

[Sera’s reaction is priceless]

[So we’re calling her ‘Boomer Smoker’ now?]

…Great.

Now, on top of my “smoking problem” meme, I was also getting branded as a boomer.

Not that I actually cared—but I pretended to, making an exaggerated noise of frustration.

[She’s got great reactions wwww]

[Uriel is just farming her today lol]

[So what does she actually look like?]

At that moment, Se-eun suddenly spoke up, way too enthusiastically.

“Sera is super pretty! Like, when I first saw her, I was SHOCKED!”

“Right?? I thought she was a celebrity!”

“…Yeah, she’s definitely pretty.”

The chat went wild.

I blinked.

Wait—were we even allowed to talk about our real appearances?

I glanced at the monitoring staff on the other side of the screen, but no one stepped in.

Apparently, this was fine.

“Good to know.”

I cleared my throat.

“Well, that’s enough about me. Let’s move on to the next person!”

“Alright! Who’s next?”

A new name popped up on screen.

Hana.

“M-Me?”

Hana, looking slightly nervous, glanced around expectantly.

I felt a pang of guilt.

I had actually changed my original response to something softer.

Sure, we needed entertainment value, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Alright! Here we go!”

With an excited shout from Se-eun, the next set of keywords flashed onto the screen.

Squirrel.

“Squirrel”

“Timid”

“Grandma”

“…Huh?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

[These guys had no intention of writing anything nice, LMAO]

[If she’s a squirrel, she must be really cute in real life]

[Timid, okay, but what’s with ‘Grandma’?]

[Grandma…?]

[Oh.]

[I’ve uncovered the truth.]

[Hana is the oldest among them, huh?]

Dain chewed on her lip, eyes darting between the names.

She looked like she had a lot to say but couldn’t quite bring herself to voice it.

Instead, she stared silently at Su-yeon.

Su-yeon, usually composed, visibly panicked.

“I-I swear it wasn’t me! I wrote ‘Timid’!”

“I wrote ‘Squirrel’! Because Hana is cute!”

Under Dain’s intense pressure, the two rushed to explain themselves.

And just like that, I was left as the sole suspect.

“Uh… wait. Weren’t we supposed to keep it anonymous? Isn’t the point to guess who wrote what?”

Dain’s lips quivered.

“You’re… so mean. I wrote nice things for everyone…”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

Uh.

Oh no.

Oh, hell no.

“W-Wait! I’m sorry! It was just a joke! A joke!”

“Uuuu…”

Desperate damage control.

And just like that, the once high-energy Star Record 3rd Gen debut collab took a nosedive.

Ever since Hana cried during the first impression segment, the atmosphere never fully recovered.

By the time online forums started filling with posts like—

“Welp, this gen is doomed too.”

“No chemistry. They’re just as disconnected as the 2nd gen.”

“Star Record really needs to work on their recruitment process.”

—our stream was already nearing its end.

“Alright, that’s it for today’s stream! Thank you for watching!”

“Thanks, everyone!”

And with that, the broadcast ended.

For Star Record fans, it was a disappointing debut.

A rare first encounter.

The one chance to establish camaraderie among third-gen members.

And yet… It ended like this.

Except… The Stream Was Still On.

“Unnie, why did you cry?! What were you thinking?!”

“I-I’m sorry… I just suddenly felt so left out…”

“You really are the definition of an extreme F-type personality.”

[Uh… guys? The stream is still on.]

[Why does this keep happening with Star Record? Is their tech team asleep?]

[If they say something bad, this is gonna blow up fast…]

[So Hana IS the oldest, huh?]

Poof—

A muffled sound.

“Hehe, Unnie, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad~”

“Agh—! Stop hugging me so tight, I can’t breathe!”

Soft shuffling.

The viewers immediately pieced together what was happening.

[They’re already making up, LOL]

[Hana x Sera is real.]

[Wait, they’re literally cuddling?? Right after the stream ended??]

[Okay, why is this lowkey more entertaining than the actual stream?]

[Bro, this is more intimate than it needs to be.]

“While we’re at it, should we all talk about what upset us?”

“Yeah! For example, Su-yeon, you always pick on me!”

“H-Hey, that’s just part of our banter! But okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“Eiii—! Cute!”

“Kyaa—!”

High-pitched giggles filled the mic.

The avatars on-screen had long since frozen, but the viewers remained glued to the stream.

[Why is this post-stream convo better than the actual show?]

[If you agree that this is the REAL content, hit that like button, LOL]

[New ship unlocked: HanaSeraUriel]

[Are they rubbing their faces together?!]

[Su-yeon’s real name got exposed though…]

[Uriel’s real identity is basically public knowledge anyway, but still…]

[MODS, DO SOMETHING.]

And then—

“Oh… uh, guys? The manager just messaged me. Apparently… we never actually turned off the stream.”

“…What?”

“…Ah.”

“A—AAAAHHH!!!”

With one final scream, the stream abruptly cut to black.

Aftermath

“Good job, everyone!”

“Was my acting awkward? It wasn’t too obvious, right?”

“No, no, you did fine!”

Like actors stepping off a film set, the members immediately reverted to their normal selves once the cameras stopped rolling.

A brief silence followed.

It was… awkward.

Just minutes ago, they had been crying, hugging, professing their love for each other.

Now?

Just… awkward glances.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples.

“So… this whole thing. It was staged?”

“Well, yeah.”

A fake broadcasting accident.

A ‘forgotten’ mic’ moment.

A carefully engineered scenario to make it look like we had natural, unfiltered interactions.

A manufactured drama for engagement.

In other words—

“This was all scripted.”