Chapter 1: How am I supposed to go to work like this?

“Maybe being a Youtuber is a profession that not just anyone can handle; it’s an extremely challenging job, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s cursed, destined to break down.”

“Should I quit being a Youtuber…?”

“Hey, don’t block the door; move over. I’m here to fix it.”

“Yes…”

I know that my thoughts are somewhat disconnected from the general perception.

But I couldn’t help but think this way, given my position.

The power that won’t turn on again the next day, even after confirming there’s nothing wrong.

The personal DDoS attacks happening when everyone else’s internet is working just fine.

The motion capture system that works perfectly for me but fails specifically in front of the Youtuber.

If this kind of thing repeats non-stop for half a year since the debut of our first generation, it’s not suspicion anymore; it’s certainty.

“It’s ready. Go ahead and try.”

I restored the sound that had been dead and gestured to Akari Dora, our first-generation member, who looked at me anxiously from behind.

Honestly, it wasn’t even a big deal.

Sometimes they broadcast while eating, and naturally, they push the keyboard or mouse on the table backward.

At that precise moment, they happen to hit the power button on the audio interface that controls the entire sound output for the stream.

The power button is mounted on the side of this model, which is why it happens.

I told the former team leader not to buy this model.

The equipment has an annoyingly high defect rate, and because of the location of the buttons and dials, it was bound to cause problems eventually.

Plenty of people over at BachuBachu overseas had similar issues.

While I was thinking about this, Dora muttered while putting on the motion capture equipment again.

“It’ll work this time, right? Ugh, I’m going crazy.”

“It will, so go ahead and talk to your viewers right away.”

“Getting old here…”

“Waiting for you guys, I might rot away.”

“Mommyyyyy!”

“A-Ah.”

Viewers, who had been filling the chat with messages asking when she’d be back, instantly reacted to Dora’s voice.

“You’re finally here?”

“Finally.”

“So now you fixed it?”

An anonymous supporter has donated 1,000 clouds!

“Hey, did you know? You can survive 20 minutes without breathing.”

“World’s first radiation apocalypse prep broadcast”

“He couldn’t hold his breath for a minute, weak”

Luckily, as soon as Dora realized the sound was back, she immediately began apologizing profusely in her earnest voice.

“A-Ah, I’m sorry! 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 go after management, shall we?”

“Heyyy, if I switch to different equipment, it’ll take ages to get used to it. And someone even came all the way here to fix it for me! Don’t go after management! Support them!”

She really knows how to handle the broadcast.

And she even knows how to protect our staff.

Though I rushed over here at 2 a.m. in less than 20 minutes by taxi, 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.

I couldn’t ignore the audience sentiment, so I checked the chat behind her while she was broadcasting.

“I’m telling you, there’s discrimination against Dora’s equipment.”

“Management, seriously?”

“How about some spicy fan art for the angry crowd?”

“Where are the illustrators? This is your chance!”

It seemed like the usual, but the complaints weren’t as intense as before.

This wasn’t the first or second time it had happened, and viewers were getting used to it.

Their reactions were more like, “Sure, fix the equipment issues, and we’ll hold our breath until the broadcast resumes.”

“To be honest, Dora’s broadcasts are half-hearted.”

“Dora fans, seriously, get a grip.”

“Lately, Dora fans are becoming annoying.”

Some viewers, tired of the repeated equipment issues, started turning their frustration toward the fanbase itself, blaming them instead of Dora.

Equipment issues.

Is it the fans’ fault?

… Absolutely not, of course.

The problem lies entirely with our company’s poor equipment choice.

Because of that, I sometimes feel like barging into my former team leader’s house with that cursed audio interface he selected early this year.

I told him, didn’t I?

Choosing this would cause problems.

In my imagination, I fumed at the former team leader for not listening, when suddenly Dora shouted.

“Ugh, what do I do! The sound isn’t working again! I turned the power off and on, just like you told me, but it’s still not working!”

When I look behind Dora, who’s anxiously stomping her feet, I see the keyboard has been pushed back again.

Where the keyboard originally was, there are two chewy jellies prepared for today’s ASMR mukbang.

If I wonder whether the audio interface’s power has been cut off again, it hasn’t.

It’s just that this cursed audio interface has the main volume control dial on the side, along with the power button.

I knew this would happen, so I waited here just in case.

If I’d left, I would’ve turned back in five minutes after a call.

“All right, calm down and have some cola.”

“No way! I can’t be burping on 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.

This is what it’s like.

A punch showing the weight and responsibility of an adult.

As I tried to hail a taxi to go home, I received a call.

It was from Momo, the president of Parallel, the Youtuber group I work for, who is also my favorite (oshi), with 1.6 million subscribers on YouTube.

“Hello.”

“Thanks for the hard work.”

“Oh, no problem. Dora’s sound should be all good now.”

“Sorry about this. For the second generation, I’ll make sure they’re properly trained on equipment before debut, and I’ll carefully select the equipment too.”

“There weren’t enough people back then to check all these things, anyway. And this is what you hired me for, right? I get to come in late every day, don’t have much work in the office, so I should at least do this.”

Sigh.

I heard a short sigh over the phone.

“You always talk like that. It’s rare to find someone who quietly solves every issue that comes up.”

I fell deep into thought.

Someone who can see a Youtuber in person and stay unfazed.

Someone who endures fan drama but never stops supporting the fandom.

Someone who’s willing to stay on standby until late at night to cover any incident—only me.

So, just as the president said, I do have a clear sense of purpose.

Five years ago, I might’ve lived carefree as a freelancer criticizing the company, if I hadn’t been caught in real life by the president.

It’s not that I dislike the job, though.

I just feel inadequate compared to the others at Parallel.

I would’ve just done odd jobs and lived as usual, occasionally critiquing the president.

So, in this environment where I get to hear the president’s voice every day, watch the first-gen broadcasts, and get paid for late-night work, maybe I should be thankful.

… In short, I’m not that amazing.

Since she’s my oshi, I just think of myself as her loyal dog, happy to work hard when she asks.

Fittingly, the president’s fan name is also “MongMong,” so I sometimes joke self-deprecatingly about barking whenever she assigns me something difficult.

“Anyway, I’ll head in now. You should get some rest too, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Take care getting home. And don’t forget about the 8 p.m. fill-in content tomorrow night for Dora.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve prepared everything.”

Even as her close assistant, there are tasks that make me nervous.

Tonight’s planned content is the first-generation Aoyagi Rain’s “Find the Real Rain” segment.

The idea is to pick out Rain, with her unique accent and broken Korean, among voice-modulated fakes.

Since Dora had to leave due to family matters, I was chosen as her fill-in.

Although I’ve supported the president’s broadcasts in silence before, speaking on stream is a first for me.

I’ve never even pretended to be a net character before, so I’m feeling the nerves.

Surrounded by idols and having to act like one myself?

“Working life isn’t easy…”

But as a trusted employee, I have to rise to the occasion.

Since the president’s sure my involvement will make things more fun, I have no reason to back down.

I haven’t missed a single one of Rain’s broadcasts, after all.

I’ve prepared thoroughly for the past week.

If I can overcome the embarrassment, I’m ready to sacrifice myself for our first-gen members.

“Yaaaawn.”

When I got home, I couldn’t stop yawning.

Half-asleep, I barely managed to collapse onto my bed before drowsiness took over.

As my consciousness faded, I mumbled softly.

“Their broadcast still has a long way to go…”

The next morning.

I went to wash up but found myself staring into the mirror.

“What’s this cute little creature?”

Under the warm morning sunlight, my black hair had a bluish tint.

My blue eyes looked almost otherworldly, questioning if I was even Korean.

“A-Ah. A. Ah! Ah?”

My sleepy eyes looked like a relaxed herbivore.

My height was much smaller, fitting my new childlike voice perfectly.

In the mirror, an adorable young girl, who could be mistaken for a child actor, looked extremely confused as she touched her own face.

Various thoughts rushed through my mind.

Did someone swap my soul while I was sleeping?

Is this just some crazy dream?

Then, the last thought came to me.

“How am I supposed to go to work like this?”