Why Tokiwa Kirene Can't Graduate

Considering the aftermath of the disaster caused by Tokiwa Kirene's absence, some might find it strange. Why was An Huiyeon so terrified of "Tokiwa Kirene"—or rather, Kang Nari—graduating? Why was she pleading so desperately for her not to go? The answer can be summed up in one phrase: "Because it'll blow up without her!" Without Kang Nari, the entire Scalaiive agency would go boom!—exploding into oblivion. Kang Nari was the one desperately patching together a Scalaiive on the verge of eruption. As president, An Huiyeon had no choice but to hold onto her at all costs.

So why would Scalaiive explode without Kang Nari? That answer is just as simple: "Without Nari, there's no control...!" Scalaiive's 2nd gen, Reversal. They were the most unhinged madwomen An Huiyeon had ever meticulously selected from a mountain of applicants...

When An Huiyeon decided to start a VTuber agency, the market was already swarming with piranhas eager to turn the blue ocean blood-red... (They were just entrepreneurs targeting niche markets, but from a competitor's view, it felt cutthroat.) Luckily, recruiting a couple of famous broadcasters secured a guaranteed success for Scalaiive's 1st gen. But selecting the 2nd gen required much deeper deliberation. Two main options: Recruit more broadcasters? Or unearth fresh gems? An Huiyeon chose the latter, attaching just one simple condition to the Scalaiive 2nd gen auditions: madness!

Isn't it true that being around crazy people is exhausting up close, but fun to watch from afar? Korea's iconic yellow-haired variety show lunatic proved that. True to her philosophy, the auditions began, and after a grueling process, the debuting 2nd gen were:

"The Immortal Phoenix of Eternal Flames" Matsuri Honoka.

"The Sorceress of the Infinite Archive" Hazuki Shiori.

"The Saintess of Blasphemy and Heresy" Bioretta Unholy.

"The Vampire from the Future" Tokiwa Kirene.

And here's what their usual streams looked like:

Seeing that, you can probably understand why Kang Nari gradually lost confidence in her streams... Objectively, Kang Nari's broadcasts weren't bad at all. She had great banter, delicious reactions, and encyclopedic otaku knowledge—a genuinely fun VTuber. The problem was her competition. And it was terribly bad. A "never-deflating tension song machine," an "impossibly pure white community addict," and a "constant blasphemer dropping pad rips"—these dopamine monsters were too much for her to overcome...

Just surviving against these three beasts proves how brilliant a broadcaster Kang Nari was. Of course, that alone doesn't justify the necessity of Kang Nari, aka "Tokiwa Kirene." In the early debut days, An Huiyeon would have accepted her graduation smoothly. That is, until that collab happened...

Previously, when Kirene missed a collab due to health issues, the other three went ahead without her. With a casual "What could go wrong? Haha" mindset, that collab became something no one even dares name anymore...

The collab drenched every viewer in shock, chaos, terror, and dopamine. The overflowing madness shattered Scalaiive's concurrent viewer record on Chizit... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and earned them a week-long ban. Officially for "poor chat moderation," but everyone knew that wasn't the real reason. An Huiyeon scrambled with VOD deletions and swift apologies, and viewers treated it like WWE entertainment without much fuss. Still, that collab remains the Scalaiive staff's worst nightmare...

Afterward, An Huiyeon urged them to tone it down, but...

It was... pointless! These were the ultimate madwomen An Huiyeon had cherry-picked. If they listened and changed, they wouldn't be madwomen! That's why we have no choice but to revere the one and only savior who can control these lunatics: To-ki-wa Ki-re-ne! You again!

"...You call that an explanation?"

But despite it all, Kang Nari denied it.

"B-but it's true..."

"...Y-yeah."

"There's no way that's normal... Everyone knows to stay in line."

'Not really...''They crossed every line...'

The two thought inwardly, rejecting it. Anyone who'd witnessed that collab firsthand would agree.

"President. Never do that again. You're no different, Yuna. Got it?"

Nari nailed it down, begging her never to. Such an overreaction was especially burdensome for her.

"Of course!"

"Y-yeah!"

Both affirmed, but inwardly:

'Gotta hide it better from now on...''True faith is...!!!'

Their hearts were worlds apart. Faith doesn't vanish just because you tell it to—it's notoriously stubborn. Even Jesus earnestly warned against idol worship, yet churches worldwide still display his statues and paintings as proof.

"Anyway, Yuna, take this. I grabbed some essentials."

After the lecture, Nari handed Yuna a bag stuffed with towels, shampoo, blankets, and more.

"Th-thank you?"

"Didn't know your size, so no clothes. Let's hit the department store."

"Y-you don't have to go that far..."

Yuna felt grateful yet burdened, trying to refuse, but Nari refused the refusal. The clothes Yuna wore now were the same as that first meeting.

"Essentials? Why?"

Huiyeon questioned the overflowing bag. Nari explained:

"The on-call room at the office has nothing, right?"

Implying it lacked everything.

"No, why...?"

"The on-call room...?"

Huiyeon and Yuna shared the same confusion.

"Because... Yuna, you're gonna use it?"

They reacted identically to the response.

"What?"

"Pardon?"

"Huh?"

The trio's sequential questions hung in stunned silence...

"Ah..."

Realizing her poor explanation, Nari had to lay out Yuna's entire situation.

The president's reaction upon hearing my full story mirrored Nari's exactly.

"No home?!"

"No money?!"

"No family?!"

Getting hit with personal attacks and pad rips twice a day—from different people, no less—was a novel experience. Sure, you'd hear it dozens of times in some L-disease game, but online vs. offline felt worlds apart.

"I-I had no idea...!"

The president seemed wracked with guilt. She'd power-interviewed a socially vulnerable person (homeless, broke, orphaned) like some corporate tyrant. I insisted it was fine since she didn't know, but her guilt lingered.

Naturally, the president's office morphed into a "Help Yuna!" strategy session. The discussion went like this:

"Nari, why not take her to your place..."

"I'd have to sleep in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bathroom..."

Nari showed photos: her room dominated by a massive soundproof booth, no space for a bed or mattress—just a futon.

"President's place...? Obviously not. Sorry..."

She pointed to her pristine new wedding ring on her left ring finger.

"Sigh... For now, stay in the on-call room a few days. Can't be long-term. Find a new place before then."

"I know a women-only goshiwon?"

"Yeah? Let's check it..."

The meeting continued—Nari asking, president answering. I barely spoke; I was the receiver here, not the giver.

As the talk dragged on, "money issues" came up...

"And Yuna, you mentioned a loan? Emergency funds?"

"Interest must be brutal..."

"...Th-that's fine. I'll handle it."

I drew a firm line, desperately refusing help. Borrowing a crash pad or sharing basics was okay, but money changed everything—making it heavier, riskier. Relationships crumbling over cash? Seol Yujin's memories and Seol Yuna's held dozens of examples. Sure, if I repaid faithfully, no issue—but what if not? What if a fight spiraled from it? Terrifying.

"Th-thanks for the on-call room. For money, I have a part-time gig lined up—just a bit of work..."

Here I was, seeking help, yet rejecting it with excuses.

"Yuna, hold on."

The president cut in.

"You don't want a loan, right?"

"Y-yes..."

Spotting my reluctance instantly, she dangled an unimaginable offer:

"Then work for it. Be a VTuber."

"...Pardon?"

My name: Seol Yuna. 21, middle school grad orphan Seol Yuna. A 25-year-old PhD dreaming of VTubing for just a week now. House collapsed, savings gone, dreams seemingly forfeit—in this desperate moment, the dream came knocking first. In the most ideal, beautiful form imaginable.