Dopamine Slaves and Fermi the Apostle

The profitable side of kirinuki and boosting the utility of VTuber marketing on YouTube. The red badge, undisputed king of videos on this planet. Would you believe that this evil red badge, sucking dry the wallets of common folk worldwide, was born from sheer lust? Shockingly, it's true. The founder created it after wandering the internet in vain, desperate to see naked actresses. When I heard that, I was floored. Is that why our country's gold badges banned Korean adults from watching adult videos? Could a second YouTube be born in Korea thanks to these bans?!

But the result was just a massive spike in VPN users, reminding me once again that those idiots' heads are full of shit. Still, with the birth of this "global video-sharing platform" monster, humanity entered a new world... namely, the dopamine party. Voluntary time-deletion assistant! Algorithms! Endless scrolling! Shorts! They relentlessly drag down humanity's average personality, common sense, and intelligence! Video comments! Thanks to this unholy trio, people worldwide can no longer be satisfied with mild dopamine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hits—what a terrifying state of affairs.

Here, some wicked souls voluntarily become minions of the red badge, plotting daily to create new dopamine slaves. We call them creators. You can't deny their talent is downright evil, given how they enslave people with fresh videos every day. But compared to the opposite role—game addiction therapists—it's hundreds of times better, which is the hilarious part. If game addiction is so damaging, why no therapists for the far worse Shorts addiction? Too scared to sue American companies? Highly credible logic.

As you know, I'm neither the "change your mindset if you're upset" doctor, nor the "games are Satan's tools" pastor, nor the aspiring politician pulling "gamer VTuber low-class stunts." So, with tears in my eyes, I bowed my head to this evil red badge. That's why I started my kirinuki channel.

Kirinuki is basically just "VTuber Shorts." A perfectly intuitive analogy. Modern humans, already enslaved by dopamine, lack the stamina for long streams. Those who still watch live broadcasts are overflowing with love for their VTubers—and light enough wallets to burn hundreds on superchats. So fans who go "VTuber love love love!" started clipping fun moments and uploading to their own channels to promote their faves. It became a culture.

But love freebies and go bald; trade fan passion for two burgers and pay 6.5 billion won in copyright fees. Some VTuber agencies permit kirinuki editors' profitable activities. Scalaiive, the company beloved by "VTuber love love love!" Seol Yuna, was one of them.

"Phew... nice."

I gazed at my excellently edited videos. Five clips, each 3-5 minutes long. Clean subtitles, zoomed-in faces on the VTubers—solid quality. I'd poured all my free time into making them, so it was only natural. After a quick review, I uploaded all five to my channel...

"..."

Nothing happened.

"...Fuck."

Of course. What miracle were you expecting from a channel with one subscriber (me)? A red ocean dyed as red as its logo. A newbie dropping in changes zilch. Creators are late bloomers by nature anyway. Steady activity brings revenue eventually. Even the world's top creator, Beast-kun, slogged through three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠years of obscurity with under 10k subs.

Logically, I should quit kirinuki now and grab a part-time gig... but how the hell am I supposed to do that?! The blame lies with Seol Yuna, who saddled me with this cursed body.

"Seol Yuna, you fucking bitch..."

When I first possessed this body, the minds of 25-year-old PhD holder Seol Yujin and 21-year-old VTuber clip editor Seol Yuna merged into one. Amid that insane agony, Yujin kept consciousness and seized control, but at great cost. Her twisted personality from hate speech, chronic depression, anxiety disorders—and cursed knowledge I neither want nor need.

But the worst? Severe social phobia. Trying to talk to people triggers paralyzing terror, cold sweats. Convenience store chats are barely tolerable... How do I work like this? Sure, Yuna's stunning looks and figure could draw crowds just standing at a counter, but that phobia stems from the very harassment those assets attract. Impossible.

"Fuck..."

Kirinuki was my last resort, but with returns unclear against time invested, my gloom was justified. Bills rise just breathing, inflation climbs, wages stagnate. How the fuck do commoners survive? "Should I try stocks...?" The thought flashed, but I smacked my head hard. Dumping money into a rigged casino is pure insanity. How do you beat shortsellers who block buy buttons?

"Hoo... calm down... let's rest a bit..."

To soothe my rage-fueled pounding heart, I lay on the rumpled blanket and grabbed my phone. Partly to pollute my brain with useless trivia and fake news, partly for illicit urges. I dove into a site that scoffs at copyright: an illegal paper-sharing hub.

"Grr...! Fresh-off-the-press papers...! Grrr! Can't hold back!"

I devoured illegally downloaded papers, letting them ravage my mind. This is true scholarly intercourse.

In an era where science pays—known for centuries—countless burn money, time, passion for tech advances. Vast funds solve most issues, but most researchers lack them. They grind within budgets, selling souls, lifespans, health to the devil for experiments and papers. (No badmouthing the sold-out—already gone.)

But the god of knowledge pities them, sending an apostle to the grad gallery... named Fermi.

Suddenly appearing in the grad gallery, instantly solving every grad student's woes—a true savior. How could one not call him the apostle of the god of knowledge? After countless miracles by the apostle, even the pinnacle of worldly power—the site admins and their minions sub-admins—were awed, granting him alone the right to a named account. This is called "named-ification."

While editing kirinuki amid this spectacle, Seol Yuna left just one comment:

The gallery bowed again to his humility. And so...