“Well, that’s true, but the donation amount is now 200, no, 210. Anyway, are you really going to throw away 210? Seriously?”
“Exactly. You mean the mindset of someone willing to sacrifice themselves for money? Wouldn’t some exploitative company bosses love to have an employee like that? Honestly, if it weren’t for Cheon Dohee picking up Majia, he’d probably be the type to get his paycheck skimmed by some sleazy convenience store boss.”
‘But… isn’t it kind of funny to insist on stopping someone who’s practically begging to be put to work?’
As Dohee struggled to make up her mind, the mission fund suddenly doubled from a moment ago.
Mission
Chat with the Parallel employee who does a great Rain impression – 2,777,000 clouds
It looked like this amount was about to reach astronomical levels.
Had all the payday schedules for workers across Korea been set to today or something? And the bigger the amount got, the more her inner capitalist was tempted.
Even Jiya, who hadn’t hung up, was narrating the donation amount in real time, trying to spur Dohee’s reaction.
2.77 million… 2.79 million… 2.82 million… 2.88 million…
“… It’s getting distracting, so stop talking. I’m watching it too.”
I’m almost at the office. Let’s talk there. 2.89 million.
Jiya’s reckless, live narration, like a reporter dispatched in a snowstorm, didn’t stop until the call ended.
Anyway, since they’d be seeing each other at the office soon, Dohee put her phone down, fixed her gaze on the broadcast screen, and asked Rain.
Private Message
Momo: Is most of the donations coming from the chairman?
Rain: Wow
Rain: As expected, boss, how did you know?
Rain: Broadcast elite super clever granny
Momo: It’s obvious…
Momo: What’s with the “granny” comment – you wanna die?
Rain: The boss is working the foreign worker like a dog, boohoo
The reason Jiya was narrating the donation changes earlier was precisely because the amount kept steadily increasing.
And if we had to name the main contributor to this rise, the only person who came to mind was the chairman, who had fallen hard in yesterday’s content and now felt guilty for not finding the real Rain.
This was the chairman’s way of seeking forgiveness through donations, and strategically trying to divert criticism by calling in a fake Rain.
Although, it was less criticism and more like the usual bickering (which some professionally refer to as WWE-style antics).
This also served as a form of protest directed at Momo, the “evil demon lord.”
It was as if he was saying, “I’ll keep raising the mission fund—think carefully about whether you’ll release Princess Majia or not!” … or something along those lines.
Come to think of it, it was a bit annoying.
Why did Dohee suddenly find herself in the position of a villain having to make a tough decision?She hadn’t done anything wrong.
Majia had merely suddenly decided to unleash a hidden talent.
It was like finding a girl protesting outside the demon lord’s castle, bringing her inside only to discover she’s a princess, and then dispatching a hero to rescue her.
Soon, the front office door opened with a bang, and a small figure, only slightly visible above the partition, darted across the hallway and knocked on the boss’s door.
“Come in.”
Standing at just 140 cm, Majia, who looked no taller than an upper elementary student but was dressed in a suit, entered with a unique aura.
I had thought of suggesting she dress casually but left it as is, thinking this might be her idea of a professional image.
On her phone screen was Rain’s ongoing live broadcast, which she was watching as she removed her earbuds and, with her gem-like blue eyes shining, reported:
“Boss, it’s at 3 million.”
“OF.”
“It’s 3.03 million now. Anyway, it keeps going up.”
“… I get it, so stop. That’s not the point right now.”
“3.06.”
Only after Dohee narrowed her eyes did Jiya stop reporting the donation amount.
It was indeed an impressive sum.
Three million won.
Considering that it only took one million won to see the first-generation members’ special reactions, Rain might need to hold a mini-concert the moment the mission succeeded.
However, the viewers weren’t only here for Rain’s singing.
The mission was about bringing Jiya onto the broadcast.
Since she was on, wouldn’t the viewers at least expect Jiya to react together? Whether through singing or impressions.
But this channel belonged to Rain, after all.
Dohee, as the boss, wanted to avoid introducing Majia as a character to overshadow the main star.
“Alright. You suggested it, so go on Rain’s broadcast and wrap it up. But, you know what I mean, right?”
Jiya picked up on the unspoken message perfectly.
It was her belief that as a company employee, she shouldn’t overshadow the virtual YouTuber’s broadcast.
She nodded, signaling her understanding, but as she turned to leave, Dohee caught her by the shoulder.
“This might not be the last time. You may need to appear on another broadcast.”
“Is that so?”
Jiya’s nonchalant tone was because she didn’t realize how others saw her character.
However, Dohee sighed deeply, and Jiya calmly handed over a solid piece of advice.
“If you’re anxious, you could just tell me not to go on.”
“It’s… the situation…”
“But, boss, you’re thinking this, right? That if I don’t go on, we’re doomed.”
Dohee, struck by the truth, found herself at a loss for words.
Jiya continued, sensing the momentum.
“I don’t know if I’m in a position to give advice, but from what I remember, most decisions you made in similar situations were right. Though, yeah, sometimes public sentiment plummeted.”
Jiya didn’t need to add that last part, but it was simply a factual statement.
Every time Cheon Dohee had been at a crossroads, she’d made optimal moves.
Jiya’s message was: trust your instincts again this time.
… And the biggest part of that dilemma was Majia.
Not that she knew it.
What else could Dohee do? The snowball effect was in full motion, and if Jiya’s debut became inevitable, Cheon Dohee would have to handle the aftermath.
Since Dohee was convinced sending Jiya out was the best choice, she instructed:
“Alright, go help Rain. Just keep an eye on the chat and reach out if you feel it’s going too far.”
“Yes.”
Leaving her clear answer, Majia headed toward the motion studio.
Watching the small but confident figure, Dohee couldn’t help but laugh.
Jiya’s claim that she wasn’t in a position to advise was something she couldn’t agree with.
After all, lately, Dohee had been so busy with business that she only managed to barely go live herself.
Who kept her updated on the latest industry insights if not for Majia, who diligently watched over twenty virtual YouTuber broadcasts from both local and global sources, organizing YouTube videos and community posts?
Who was it who supported her when her channel had only a modest 30k subscribers, earning the title “Streamer Tormented by Persistent Snipers” and wings alongside it?
“… Honestly, she won’t admit her own abilities, no matter what.”
In the motion studio’s single-person broadcast room, Jiya opened Rain’s broadcast on one screen and the chat on another.
She pulled the condenser microphone stand closer and leaned back in her chair.
“Wow, it’s already at 3.5 million.”
Watching the stream in that posture, she saw the mission funds continuing to rise.
It was on track to reach 1.5 times her monthly salary.
How could she pass this up? Technically, this wasn’t her money, but considering her presence was making it possible to succeed in the mission, it was almost as if she were the one donating.
Or maybe not.
Lost in her idle thoughts, Jiya received a DM from Rain, who had just mentioned taking a restroom break.
Private Message
Rain: Jiya
Rain: Before we start, I have one request
It was a surprising proposal.
She thought they’d just have a brief chat and be done.
Rain: I’ll buy you anything—steak, whatever you want, like a real god of normalization
Rain: So, please
Rain: Would you be willing to join a broadcast next week or next month?
Rain: Please, Jiya, you’re the best!
Until now, no first-generation member had invited her as a broadcast guest.
When they did, she rarely turned on her voice, so her options were limited.
Her appearances usually amounted to being a carry machine in the Battle Coliseum.
She knew that yesterday’s Finding Rain had changed things, but still didn’t understand why she, specifically, was being targeted.
Yet, since this would help Rain, she decided to join.
Parallel Operations Team Majia: Sure
Parallel Operations Team Majia: Let’s do it next week
Rain: Thank you!
Rain: When would work best?
Rain: How about dinner? Good for a content meeting?
Parallel Operations Team Majia: As long as it doesn’t interfere with the boss’s broadcast schedule
Parallel Operations Team Majia: Could the boss join us for dinner?
Rain: Of course!
Just when it seemed the chat would end, Rain added a few more words.
Rain: If it’s too much, you can pass the load to me
Rain: I’m a seasoned broadcaster now, too
Since Rain’s cute persona became more prominent, new things kept happening.
She used to constantly ask for Jiya’s help and still did, even if it meant taking some harsh words along the way.
Although it was predictable that Rain would shield herself again, Jiya appreciated the thoughtfulness.
Parallel Operations Team Majia: Thanks for thinking of me
After the chairman finally stopped his “support donations,” the mission frenzy settled down.
Mission :: Chat with the Parallel employee who does a great Rain impression – 4,022,000 clouds ::
The call started.
As the tone sounded, the viewers erupted in excitement.
“Oh, hello.”