I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work-Chapter 100

“Hello, everyone! To all our dear Wol-Dungi who have always loved Parallel, and to all the new viewers who have come from various places to watch our Lunar New Year special content—welcome!

I am today’s guest reaction host, the star shining high in the sky of Parallel, Shirahoshi Momo!”

Clap clap clap.

As soon as the CEO finished her introduction, I joined in with an enthusiastic round of applause before giving a polite bow.

“Hello, everyone. I am Magia, the assistant manager, and I will be co-hosting today’s reaction segment with our CEO. I look forward to working with you all.”

“Waaaah—!!”

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉ

— ㅉㅉ

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉ

— ㅘㅘㅘ

— Jaha

— Phaelha

— ㅉㅉㅉ

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉ

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉ

— Moha

— ㅉㅉㅉ

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉ

— Jaha

— ㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉㅉ

Honestly, once the viewer count surpasses ten thousand, it becomes impossible to gauge the actual crowd density just by looking at the chat.

However, there is a way to determine how many people have joined and how many new viewers have arrived.

The answer lies in the growing list of banned usernames.

During normal streams, the ban count isn’t particularly high.

That’s because, aside from moments when dopamine levels spike, the chat moves at a fairly moderate pace, meaning any troublemakers are swiftly apprehended by the streamer.

In situations like that, most people tend to play it safe and behave, keeping the ban list relatively quiet.

But today was different.

On days with such massive crowds, things changed.

Some people couldn’t hold back their dopamine surges and got swept up in the chaotic atmosphere, spewing nonsense only to get their heads chopped off.

Others made the exact same mistake as someone else in the flood of chat and ended up getting executed right alongside them.

Even if a ban was only temporary, once a username appeared on the list, it became a tangible indicator of just how intense the stream was.

Of course, the longer that list got, the more it became a nightmare for the managers.

Today, however, was an exception.

Since all the assigned managers happened to be on break, the off-duty ones voluntarily stepped in, offering to help out.

And not just one or two of them—every single manager on break had raised their hand to work today.

We told them they didn’t have to, but they all said they might as well help out while watching the stream.

As thanks, I promised to send them chicken gift vouchers once the stream was over.

Some might think spending money on that was unnecessary, but since we couldn’t hire them as full-time employees, they were incredibly valuable to us.

If relationships soured, it would lead to all sorts of headaches, so maintaining good rapport was essential.

After all, if a post like “I got unfairly banned” popped up on the forums, and it turned out to be an actual wrongful ban, it wouldn’t just be an issue on our forum—it would ignite the entire community.

To prevent such incidents, frequent communication was key.

Before I was called Team Leader, my official title was General Manager, and the primary duty of that role was overseeing the entire moderation team.

Anyway, while chatting with Momo about recent updates, I was also reviewing images sent in by the managers to decide whether certain ambiguous cases warranted a ban.

Meanwhile, the stream continued moving forward.

“Now, let’s move on to the awards segment! Gia, I heard there are six different awards this time?”

“That’s right. Thanks to sponsorships from Aurora and Pazijik, we have quite a variety of prizes this year.

There are two primary evaluation methods.

First, we have the viewer votes. These are divided into two categories: performance score and entertainment score.

The top two winners in performance score will receive the ‘Aurora Award,’ while the top two in entertainment score will receive the ‘Pazijik Award.’”

“After selecting those ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) four winners, our final two awards will be given by myself and Assistant Manager Magia. Each of us will personally choose one participant for the ‘Parallel Award.’

And don’t worry, we won’t be picking Gia, so your merch is safe, everyone!”

“For details on the prizes, please refer to the next slide.”

With that, we wrapped up explaining the award selection process and prize details before the main event began.

It was now time to introduce the participants.

After playing the preliminary evaluation videos, Momo and I would discuss the results based on the judges’ assessments.

“For reference, the preliminary judging was handled by a music producer who has worked on both original songs and cover projects for Parallel.

Now then, let’s meet our first contestant—Participant A!”

To ensure anonymity, every contestant was assigned an uppercase letter instead of a username.

For the record, my designated letter was F.

Apparently, it was chosen because it resembled a flare, like a signal flare or illumination round.

Since I was in the earlier part of the lineup, my introduction came up fairly quickly.

As Momo flipped through the cue cards and reached the evaluation for Participant F, she suddenly paused.

Then, she glanced straight at me.

Her eyes clearly said, “Is this you?”

This was the first time either of us had seen the preliminary videos.

To maintain fairness and prevent bias, we intentionally delayed watching them until now to avoid recognizing any participants in advance.

“Well... our next contestant is Participant F. Surprisingly, their voice sounds very similar to a certain VTuber we all know.”

— ???

— Eh?

— ?

“Let’s watch the preliminary video and see if you all can figure out which VTuber it might be.”

For the record, I didn’t sing trot music.

If I had, it would’ve instantly reminded everyone of that slow train performance from a while back and given me away on the spot.

As soon as the song began playing, the chat exploded with reactions.

— ??

— Huh?

— Eh?

— ????

— Momo?

*

Dohee immediately recognized that F was Magia.

After all, there was no one else who would pull off a prank like this.

As the video played, Dohee muted her mic and asked,

“You never fail to amaze me.”

What Magia had submitted for the preliminaries was none other than Momo’s first original song.

And the mimicry was absurdly good.

It wasn’t some half-hearted phone recording done in a karaoke room—no, she had recorded it in a properly set-up company studio, yet the difference from the original was almost imperceptible.

—Usually, poor recording quality makes it easier to confuse the original with an imitation.

For a simple joke, the quality was shockingly high.

Just like before, most people wouldn’t be able to tell whether it was Momo or Magia.

“I already showed you a bit of this during the D-Rain segment.”

“That was rap! Rap and singing with actual pitch control are completely different things.”

“Are they, though? I just copied someone who sang well. After five years of practice, this level is to be expected.”

“...I’m suddenly terrified of the finals.”

When Magia had sung Slow Train, Dohee had thought: Her voice may not be as distinct as a fingerprint, but it’s recognizable enough that one performance will give her away.

Yeah, right.

At this level, no one was going to figure it out.

Magia had said she was participating in the event.

No one ever said Dohee wasn’t participating.

And after working with a menace like Magia for five years, Dohee had unknowingly started picking up some of her more devious habits.

Naturally, she welcomed such an entertaining situation.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

As the preliminary video ended, Dohee unmuted her mic and spoke.

“Wow. I have no idea who that was. Right? Starlit sky~.”

She even hummed a short line, as if the clip had been her own.

Of course, Magia, who had nothing on her mind but deceiving the viewers, immediately followed up.

“Well, I never said the CEO wasn’t part of this.”

— ???

— What the hell?

— Is this really Momo?

— Isn’t this just Magia doing an impression?

— Wait, since when was Magia this good at singing?

— I seriously can’t tell LOL

— Nah, I believe this is Magia

— F is Magia, F is Magia

— But it does sound like Momo... lol

— Damn, who is it?

Some viewers insisted that F was Magia.

But soon, even that discussion faded away.

Aside from the intentionally comedic contestants, most of the participants that followed were shockingly good singers.

So much so that it was hard to believe they were just ordinary viewers.

One contestant, in particular, stood out—Participant L.

— Oh shit, who is this?

— Ssshh lol

— I know this voice...

The consensus among the viewers was that it had to be Iyura, a 2.5-million-subscriber Utaite.

She was even better at that distinctive rough, raspy singing style than Maru, and to top it off, she had chosen a song that was meant to be belted out powerfully. It gave her away instantly.

However, no one could be completely sure.

Because of F.

:: An anonymous donor has sent 1,000 Clouds! ::

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

:: Isn’t this an impression too? ::

:: An anonymous donor has sent 1,000 Clouds! ::

:: I can’t be sure because of F earlier, damn LOL ::

If no one could tell whether F was Magia or Dohee, how could they be certain if L was really Iyura?

And then, that uncertainty reached its peak when the final contestant, Participant Z, took the stage.

“And now, our last contestant—Participant Z.

According to the evaluations, their voice is usually suited for gentle, healing songs, yet they’ve chosen to deliver a powerful, intense vocal performance instead.

Rather than feeling awkward, it’s been described as mesmerizing.

Let’s have a listen!”

The moment the first note played, the chat was flooded with hook emotes.

— Huh?

— Why does this sound so familiar?

— Wait...?

— Ssshh

Even Magia, who had been enjoying the confusion all along, suddenly stiffened.

“What’s wrong?”

“This voice... doesn’t it sound familiar to you?”

Dohee had been listening to so many audition tapes recently that she couldn’t pinpoint it immediately.

“Hm? Not sure?”

But Magia was different.

The singing style was throwing her off a little, but she knew she had heard this voice before.

The background of Z’s preliminary recording was a coin karaoke room.

The sound quality was poor—recorded on a phone—but even through that, there was a certain gentleness in the tone.

As the evaluation had stated, even in its strongest belted moments, the voice never became sharp.

There was always a roundness, a smoothness to it.

Who is this...?

Magia couldn’t say for certain.

All she knew was that this question was going to bother her for a long time.

With that, the participant introductions were complete.

As Magia and Dohee discussed the contestants, a Pazijik staff member in TalkCord randomly shuffled the performance order.

This was to ensure a completely blind evaluation by the audience.

[Host: The first performer is ready.]

And so, without knowing who would go first, both the audience and the hosts watched as the first contestant stepped onto the stage.

From this point on, all that mattered was the singing itself.

“Alright, here’s our first contestant.

Let’s see if you can guess who they are!

Gia, please introduce the song.”

“The song selection is Maru’s debut single—Finally.

This song...”

Finally was Maru’s first original track, famously known for its railroad crossing alarm chime intro.

It was also one of the most technically difficult songs out of all the original tracks released by the Parallel members.

Not only did it feature deep, resonant low notes followed by sudden jumps to high pitches,

but the chorus was entirely filled with sustained high notes,

to the point that even professional singers often struggled with the final upward modulation.

In short, the song’s constantly shifting tone demanded a high level of skill.

Mistakes were bound to happen during a live performance.

Yet...

[With each departing step, the slowed hands of the clock, the approaching end of today...

When the darkness settles on my shoulders, even the sound leaves my side...]

From the very first note, the voice was clear and warm.

Like the smoothness of a sip of heated milk.

The chorus hadn’t even started, yet it was immediately obvious that this singer was the real deal.

Magia had a talent for recognizing and analyzing voices.

It was a skill she had honed while practicing vocal impressions,

but it was also something that had helped her identify reincarnated VTubers from their past lives.

After confirming that the mic volume was lowered, Magia muttered,

“This is Z.”

“Oh, you’re right. That’s Z. But... we know them, don’t we? I can’t say for sure, but after hearing it twice, I’ve got a feeling.”

“Well... yeah.”

The problem wasn’t just that they had identified Z.

They had figured out who was behind the alias.

The fact that they had chosen a song by their friend, Maru.

The evaluation’s comment about their voice suiting healing songs.

Adding those clues together, the answer was obvious.

“Z... This is Serena.”