I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work-Chapter 105

Serena spoke to me after Producer Na Hyun-gon left first due to his busy schedule.

“Were you surprised?”

I usually don’t show much emotion on my face, yet the soon-to-graduate healing-type VTuber still managed to notice.

I told Serena exactly what I was thinking.

“I had a feeling your father was someone high up. But I didn’t expect to meet him so soon, and I definitely didn’t expect him to bring up a contract right away.”

“Sorry for catching you off guard. I don’t really like making a big deal out of these things.”

“Well, I get it. You’d probably have a lot of annoying people clinging to you otherwise.”

“Hehe, as expected of you, Gia. You always just know.”

As she was about to leave the conference room, I casually asked,

“...You’re not planning to stay on break forever, right?”

Serena smirked.

“What makes you think that?”

“You really love your fans.”

“...”

Her expression turned oddly bittersweet. Then, leaning close to my ear, she whispered:

“When are you recruiting for the third generation?”

I chuckled.

“I’ll make sure to let you know as soon as the announcement goes up. Be ready.”

“Oh? So you’re definitely doing a third-gen recruitment? You don’t know that for sure yet.”

Of course we have to.

We’re going to keep growing, and to meet the increasing demands of our fans, we’ll need to sign even more VTubers.

“I’ll make it happen, no matter what—alongside the CEO.”

***

After Serena left, the recording session went on for about 45 minutes.

Even though I tried my best to follow instructions, I had trouble focusing.

I couldn’t even remember if I did well or how many mistakes I made.

Most likely, it was because I was preoccupied with the thought that I needed to inform the CEO and the members about this news as soon as possible.

As soon as the recording ended, I asked the vocal guide:

“Would it be okay if I waited here until my team members’ recording session?”

“Yes, you can stay in the lobby. Would you like me to bring you a chair?”

“That would be really appreciated.”

CAT Entertainment.

Parallel recording a song at CAT Entertainment.

Is this a dream?

But when I checked the business card in my coat pocket again—once, twice—it was still the same.

And when I replayed the recorded session, it was all real.

100% pure truth.

It wasn’t a dream.

One of the two giants dominating Korea’s music industry, alongside SB Entertainment, had reached out to Parallel.

It felt like playing a no-items mode kart racing game and suddenly getting a magnet power-up.

Like locking onto BachuBachu KR speeding ahead and finally getting the chance to close the gap.

And Na Hyun-gon didn’t even seem like he wanted to control Parallel.

For someone from such an ultra-elite organization, someone with the power to grab us by the collar and drag us wherever he wanted, he had instead given us time to think it over.

Even though he could have easily forced us into a deal, he chose to respect our decision.

After about an hour of calming my excitement and organizing my thoughts for the future, the CEO and the team arrived.

While the team leader and the members were in the recording studio, I borrowed a conference room to speak with the CEO.

Since I was rambling more than usual, the CEO chuckled.

“Come on, Gia. CAT Entertainment? That’s too much. If you had picked something more realistic, maybe I would’ve believed you.”

Had I messed around with the CEO too much in the past?

For a brief moment, I reflected on my past actions with the heart of the boy who cried wolf.

...But I didn’t actually feel guilty.

Instead, I shoved the business card right in the CEO’s face.

I didn’t even need to play the recording.

The CEO’s jaw practically hit the floor.

So, I relayed my conversation with Na Hyun-gon in as much detail as possible.

“Holy sh*t. I keep staring at this business card, but I still can’t believe it...”

Just from the fact that the CEO actually swore—something that rarely happened—it was obvious.

This was a situation that was almost impossible to believe.

“This is an opportunity we absolutely have to take.”

“Obviously. Only an idiot would let this slip.”

Even in the middle of being utterly shocked, the CEO still considered my feelings.

“But are you okay with singing alongside the members? At the end of the day, your opinion matters most for this decision.”

...That was kind of touching.

With a small smile, I began speaking.

“I actually spent some time thinking about it while I was waiting for you to arrive.”

The reason I had always avoided singing in public with the members was ultimately my own lack of confidence in my talent.

I didn’t want to ruin the harmony of their beautiful, well-balanced voices.

That thought alone was enough to make me hesitate.

Didn’t I see the chat and community posts constantly telling me that I had talent and that I should sing more?

Yeah, I ignored all of that.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I assumed it was just my annoying friends messing around while watching streams together.

And, as I mentioned before when playing Knight of Legend, I never believe anything unless it comes straight from a professional.

But now, the situation was different.

The C-line of CAT Entertainment—the chief A&R producer responsible for all music production—personally acknowledged my voice.

Not my voice impressions, but my real singing voice as itself.

And he even said that it didn’t disrupt the harmony when singing alongside the members.

So now, I had no choice but to accept that I do have some talent as a singer.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Which meant that there was no longer a reason to avoid singing with the members.

...However, one thing still bothered me.

I was just a regular person.

Someone who had never worked as an artist.

And now, someone like me was about to release a track under CAT Entertainment, alongside the members.

Wouldn’t that draw attention toward me, when it should be focused on them?

So, I came up with a plan.

“I’ll do the album. But I want to participate anonymously. Ideally, I’d like to use the name of F, the contestant from the illegal duet event.”

“...Wait. Do you really have to do that?”

“I want to make it absolutely clear that CAT Entertainment chose Parallel as a business partner purely because of the first-generation members’ skills.”

I didn’t want my name, Magia, to be at the forefront.

That was my only condition for participating in this project.

The CEO quickly understood my reasoning and said:

“But in a way, this is also an opportunity for you to grow as a musician. Are you really willing to give that up?”

“...What do I gain from that? The CEO and the members should be the ones to succeed.”

“No, but what if you end up being successful too?”

“I don’t enjoy singing.”

All the things I had done so far—

Everything.

The official channel streams.

Joining streamer tournaments.

It was all for Parallel.

Never for my own personal success.

So, this time was no different.

I wasn’t singing to pursue a career in music.

I was singing so that the members could succeed.

“If Producer Na really thought I had the potential to be a major singer, he wouldn’t have suggested a five-person track. He would have spoken to me about a solo contract instead. I’m just a spice to enhance the members’ voices. You get what I mean, right?”

And even if I did have the potential to become a famous singer,

I had zero desire to make singing my career.

If it was for the members, like this time, then I’d do it.

But if it meant doing it for life, I’d turn it down without hesitation.

In a way, it was similar to when the CEO had asked if I wanted to debut as a VTuber.

If I truly wanted to be a professional musician, I’d have to sing, record, and upload music all month long.

Why do you think Sango Libya from BachuBachu JP barely streams anymore?

Because she got too successful as a musician.

She got swamped with external activities, concerts, and recordings, leaving no time to stream.

And there was no way I could handle a schedule like that.

If I couldn’t stream, I’d wither and die.

“Besides, we have to think about efficiency.

If I had full CAT Entertainment support, I could probably release a solid album and force my way into the charts with enough money.

But if the members got that opportunity instead, the impact would be much greater.

They actually love singing and want to succeed in music.”

The CEO looked a bit disappointed but didn’t seem like they were planning to push back.

“...Alright. I think I can work that out with the producer.”

“Thanks.”

“But if CAT Entertainment wants you for the next project... and the one after that? What then?”

For now, I didn’t have much of a choice.

We were still in a weaker position—until we gained more power, I’d just have to make time.

I wasn’t a fan of eating leftover reheated meals,

but sometimes you have to make do with an air fryer.

“If they guarantee my anonymity, I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll take all the vocal training they offer?”

With determination in my voice, I nodded.

“Yes. I don’t want to hold the members back.”

***

After the recording session ended, the members went off to stream.

Before heading back to the company, I had dinner with the CEO.

The CEO had been busy staring at their phone the whole time, seemingly searching for something.

Then, near the end of the meal, they finally spoke.

“You know... a lot of people seem to have figured out that you’re F. You okay with that?”

They must have been checking the community reactions the whole time.

“As long as we never confirm it, what can they do? They might suspect it, but they can’t be sure.”

Even Iyura, who was practically confirmed as L, never outright admitted it.

As long as I didn’t pull an X-Man moment, stand on stage, and declare, “I am F!”, Magia and F would forever remain separate entities.

Even the first-gen members weren’t completely sure—until I told them the next day after the illegal duet event. Only then did they nod and say, “I knew it!”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you keep it a secret from the members too?”

“I didn’t want to lie to them.”

The CEO’s reaction was understandable.

These were the same people who couldn’t even hold in the news about the upcoming Valentine’s outfits for a month before leaking it.

But the odds of them exposing my identity were low.

New content and outfits were constantly mentioned on stream, increasing the risk of accidental leaks.

But mentioning off-stream figures was strictly banned.

Repeat violations? Broadcast ban.

And besides—

Once CAT and Parallel’s collaboration was officially announced to the public, there would be no need to keep up this masquerade anymore.

So, even if it came out eventually, I didn’t care.

Still, the CEO seemed determined to keep things airtight.

“Then how about this? You know how the members do café-hopping streams before going live? Since they’ve got that covered, why don’t you start doing your own personal streams?”

“My own streams?”

“Yeah. Instead of just denying it, it’d be better to highlight the differences between Magia and F. You could do something like a one-million-won reaction stream where you sing.

Like how Crkemang did—sing in that lazy, half-assed tone he used. That way, no one would ever suspect you.”

When I asked if that was really necessary, the CEO gave me some blunt advice.

“You were planning to only sing in the recording studio and never on stream [N O V E L I G H T] again, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a one-way ticket to ruining your public image. Maybe before, you could’ve gotten away with it. But now? Everyone’s got a scope locked onto you.

Right now, it’s just smoke, but you need to keep spraying the extinguisher before it turns into a full-blown fire.”

Honestly, even if people figured it out, I could just ride it out.

But the problem was, I wasn’t just a solo streamer.

I was a corporate employee.

And in cases like this, the members might end up dealing with unnecessary headaches.

They could get caught up with persistent viewers, slip up, and accidentally spill the truth.

More than anything—

“You need to start thinking about your weight class.”

“My weight class?”

“Yes. You were the MVP of the tournament, you make every piece of content go viral, and you consistently pull three to four thousand viewers.

Your weight class is more than solid.”

All I had ever done was whatever it took to help the members succeed.

But as the CEO pointed out—

Magia had way too many people following her now.

From now on, anything I did had to be calculated to ensure it wouldn’t negatively impact the members.

Still, the thought of streaming alone felt a little lonely.

And singing for a one-million-won reaction?

That was way too VTuber-like.

I wasn’t a VTuber.

“...What if I turned it into an event instead?”

“An event?”

The CEO had a point—too many eyes were on me right now.

But rather than just damage control, why not use it as a marketing opportunity?

“How about I host a Battle Colosseum viewer match?

If I go ten rounds and never win, I’ll do a karaoke punishment stream.”

Battle Colosseum’s max capacity was 90 players, with 30 teams.

If I solo-queued against all viewers, I’d be going up against 87 opponents.

Viewers would definitely think, “This is doable.”

The more high-level players joined, the better.

After all, my real goal was to lose and prove that Magia and F were different people.

“Wanna join in, CEO?”

“...Me?”

“Yeah. The odds are already in favor of the viewers, but if I have a ‘log tied to my leg,’ it’d be even harder for me to win. Wouldn’t that make more people want to join?”

“...Hey.”

“The more people watch, the faster the rumors spread that Magia and F are different people.”

I ended up getting a flick on the forehead from the CEO.

But I got approval.

“Fine. Let’s do it.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll destroy them all even in a 2v87.”