The Debut Broadcast

Simply doing a mukbang alone might not have been enough bait, so I'd poured effort into two key points.

The first was a suitable degree of cringe. I'd judged that a VTuber gains little from a mukbang as content, so I drew the food myself on a paint program. Then I put my masterpieces up on screen alongside photos of the real dishes for comparison, adding a modest layer of visual comedy to the mix.

The second point was the heart of it all: word choice.

"Hmm... this Roze mala tteokbokki of mine has rather a strong mala kick, which drowns out the rose flavor. It falls a little short of deserving the name Roze. I'd advise renaming it to mala tteokbokki with milk mixed in."

"Well, I am Roze, so I may be biased in Roze's favor."

"Oh? Now this rose pasta of mine has a flavor worthy of carrying the name Roze. And so, I hereby grant it the right to live on as Roze, having become a part of my very body."

Sluuurp!

Riiing riiing.

"Phone? I have no idea what you're all talking about. What you're hearing is the screams of the Roses being absorbed into me, if you ask me?"

Thanks to efforts like these, the stream was cruising along smoothly. Four thousand three hundred sixty-four concurrent viewers. Word of the vocabulary I'd deliberately chosen as bait had apparently made it onto the community boards, because the turnout was even bigger than I'd expected.

"Ah, this rose jjimdak of mine has the rose flavor fully in hand, but the seasoning hasn't soaked all the way through. Hmm..."

"Judged on the rose alone, it passes with flying colors — but since the fundamentals are lacking, I will simmer it further in the pot at a later time, and then absorb it."

I really... was going to be eating Rose-branded food for an entire week... I had ordered far too much...

"And with that, I have finished every dish I prepared."

Hmm. The chat seemed to want the unspoken staples of any VTuber debut broadcast — a song, a showcase of special talents, that sort of thing.

In that case, how about a song, then?

"Since my stomach is quite full, I'll perform a song for you now."

Bah-bah-BAM!

What I'd picked was a boy group song. My reason for choosing it was nothing special. It was just a song I'd belted out a lot at karaoke back when I was a guy. And what that means is—

— I nailed it. Flawlessly.

When the song ended, I decided to fan the flames of a chat already roaring my name in celebration.

"Hmm... well, I've run out of things to do now..."

"That's a lie, by the way."

I'd been streaming fifty-six minutes now, so...

Ah!

"I'll perform one more song for you, then."

Click! Click!

The song I chose was a famous indie-flavored track here in Korea. In other words, the kind of song that lives or dies entirely on the color of the singer's voice.

Mid-song, I checked the clock: fifty-nine minutes and fifty seconds. And it was time for the first chorus to hit.

"Welpthat'stheonehourmarkersoI'llbeheadingoffnow, seeyounexttimeeveryone!"

Phew. Crammed it all into a single mashed-together breath, done in under ten seconds. Seeing the stream timer sitting at exactly one hour flat was oddly soothing.

And my final viewer count had been 5,083. That much in results should paper over everything, right?

Riiing riiing.

Ah. The phone.

Oh, I am screwed.

I hadn't expected that strictly businesslike manager to show any hint of being hurt. Had she really been that anxious the whole time? ...Had it been that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bad? No — I'd remembered doing worse and dialed the intensity down, so my threshold had simply risen. Which was still a problem in its own right.

The moment I hung up after receiving my lecture from the manager, the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

The word "unnie" still didn't sit comfortably in my mouth...

All five of them were already packed into the voice channel. The instant I joined, a scolding voice came down on me.

"Hey! What was all that?!"

But I had things to say too.

"You all agreed, though, back when I asked to go last so I could pull off something high-impact."

"Yes! Sure, we did! But we didn't know it'd be that!"

"I did say it'd be something fresh and clever."

"That's also technically true! Do you have any idea how worried sick we were watching that stream?!"

"I'm sorry..."

To signal that I was genuinely reflecting on my actions, I softened my tone.

"Oh? Well... as long as you're sorry, that's enough!"

Hm? Just like that?

Once our eldest unnie Minseo's lecture wrapped up, the others started asking the things they were curious about.

"But why'd you do something like that in the first place?"

"For the aggro. And for growth."

"...Well, the aggro part is beyond confirmed."

"Right?! But how did you even come up with it?!"

"Hm? When I got the name, I was thinking about how I wanted to eat rose pasta, and it just sort of grew from there."

"I'm more curious about those jewel-like word choices of yours, honestly?"

"Ah — normally, when I talk, I keep about seventy percent of what pops into my head from ever leaving my mouth."

"...THAT was you filtering?"

Huh? That reaction was a little lukewarm. I never did anything unusual in our day-to-day, did I?

"Aren't you going to scold me more, though?"

"We've spent three weeks watching you, so we've got a decent read on you by now."

Because the members had seen me regularly over those three weeks, they apparently hadn't spiraled into deep worry. I'd made it unmistakably clear that I didn't cross certain lines. And I knew that about myself too, which is exactly why I'd answered the way I did.

"Though your voice on stream was a little different? I liked it in its own way."

"I guess the stream was more fun than I expected, so my energy went up on its own."

"It must be rough, then... not being able to stream the way you do..."

"If you're jealous, feel free to take notes."

"No, I can't take notes. I could never do it your way—"

"No."

"Huh?"

"I said, take notes."

With that parting remark, I left the Discord channel.

Whew! What a productive day!

So I thought, stretching out the stiffness in my body. Now — how had the community turned out?

I opened it feeling like Pandora lifting the lid on her box: half excitement, half dread.

Cleaner than I'd expected—

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Hmm... I'd predicted this much. Sexual harassment is par for the course on community boards, after all—

Uh... okay, I'd expected this part too.

Posts like these were a dime a dozen on the boards, so I was used to the words themselves — it was only a little strange for the target to be me. Communities were, at their core, outlets for people to spray their egos everywhere. Anyone who'd hold back from writing stuff like this wouldn't be posting on one in the first place.

...If people were cursing what I'd done, I could endure it — I'd gone in fully expecting the flack. But this meant I'd just watched some pure, innocent soul toss an armful of kindling onto the dumpster fire...

And I was the one who'd set it alight in the first place.

For some reason, my conscience pricked at me.

...I need to get that fan cafe set up. Fast.