Three Months of Preparation
The three-month practice period flew by in the blink of an eye. It was honestly ridiculous how fast time went. During those three months, Seowoo, Jihae Eonni, and I hung out constantly under the pretext of "getting to know each other." I even collapsed from a massive headache once after spending hours trying to set up my streaming gear. We also had a training camp at the President's place, where we stayed up late talking, and we finally got the chance to test out our virtual avatars.
"Whoa! This is insane!"
Hair the color of a pristine, flowing river, and eyes that mirrored a tranquil mountain lake. The avatar possessed a level of aesthetic perfection so flawless that I couldn't even begin to guess how much money had been poured into its creation.
"Riu."
The name I would be using from now on. Riu. Her roleplay concept was an...
"Imoogi."
Her elemental attribute was water. The lore was that she was a serpent who had coiled herself by rivers and lakes, training for a thousand years. She had finally ventured out into the world to ascend into a dragon, only for a passing human to point and yell, "Look, a snake!" Ruining her ascension on the spot, she had crawled back into the river in shame. It was a somewhat pathetic, endearing backstory.
A serpent that failed to become a dragon. It felt like the perfect fit for me. After all, it meant I was a snake that desperately wanted to become a dragon. Besides, the whole reason I joined Starlight in the first place was because I refused to settle for being a dragon's tail.
"An imoogi. I love it."
A creature that yearns for the heavens because it lacks wings, striving all the harder because it has tasted failure. A seeker chasing after the light it does not possess, desperate to shine. How cool is that!
"I'll show them. A dragon really can rise from a humble stream."
As I spent time adapting to the avatar, my understanding of this world's VTubers deepened. Unlike the VTubers of my original world, creators here frequently moved their actual bodies in virtual reality to play games. I was absolutely shocked to learn that even though your physical body is just sitting on a chair or lying in bed, moving around intensely in the virtual world can actually cause something called "VR muscle aches."
On top of that, a "synchronization" program mapped the physical body to the virtual world. If you tried to perform movements that exceeded your actual physical capabilities, the system would overload. It was designed to minimize the cognitive dissonance between reality and virtual reality. In short, to move well in the virtual world, you had to be in great shape in the real world!
In many ways, this place differed from the world I once knew. New information, new games, new VTubers, and a completely transformed landscape where virtual creators had fully entered the mainstream. In a world where not watching VTubers was now considered unusual, I painted a picture of the future, dreaming of success alongside my groupmates.
A bright future. Superstardom as a VTuber. Owning a building. Becoming a landlord. Dreaming of becoming a CEO myself, training new talents, and growing my own agency into a global empire...!
Ah, there I go daydreaming again. Anyway, we cheered each other on and prepared diligently. While we poured our blood, sweat, and tears into our upcoming debut, the President was busy running around, leveraging his connections with various streamers to promote us.
Seriously, you couldn't underestimate a ten-year veteran of the streaming industry. All sorts of prominent streamers were mentioning us on their broadcasts and sharing our debut date. Some online communities were even calling us a "silver-spoon VTuber group." Despite not holding a public audition, the sheer power of President Dankaeng's network had generated an incredible amount of hype.
And just like that, it was one week before our debut. We gathered once again in the agency's conference room.
"You all know we're starting our social media fan interactions today at two, right?"
"Yes, President! We'll post our greetings on Twitter and promote ourselves like crazy."
"Great. Keeping our official fan cafe active is also incredibly important, so make sure to check in there often. We only have a week left, everyone. Let's do this!"
"Yes, sir!"
For the remaining week, we were given time to communicate with our fans on a social media platform called Bluebird. Well, technically, they were prospective fans. We didn't know if they would actually tune in to our streams, but fan interaction was paramount, so we began dropping little teasers about ourselves on Twitter a week before our debut.
"The response isn't exactly explosive yet."
Lying on my stomach alone in my room, I scrolled through the likes, retweets, and comments on the tweet I had posted. There were about twenty comments expressing excitement or promising to watch the stream, and I made sure to leave a heart on every single one. These small gestures are surprisingly effective at building a loyal fanbase. It's a sign that the person you're rooting for actually sees your support. Fans absolutely go crazy for that. I used to be the exact same way. Whenever a streamer I liked replied to my comment or gave it a heart, it would make my entire day.
"If these people stay my fans, I wonder if they'll end up bragging about being early supporters later on."
Pressing a heart button isn't hard, but as my viewership grows and I become more famous, it will become impossible to like every single comment. Eventually, a single heart from me will have the power to make or break someone's day. There will definitely come a time when my reactions become a rare commodity. When that happens, the early supporters who received plenty of hearts from the start will feel a sense of pride. It's the classic 'I knew her before she was cool' mentality. If that mindset goes too far, they might turn into toxic, gatekeeping gatekeepers who drive away new viewers to keep me as their "precious little streamer." But if I manage them correctly, I can train them into fiercely loyal, unconditionally supportive simps.
Unconditional supporters are indispensable.
Unconditional supporters can be helpful at times. No, they are helpful quite often. Actually, they are incredibly helpful.
At the end of the day, the ones who actually open their wallets are the fans who support you unconditionally.
When times get tough, when you want to throw in the towel—the ones who give a VTuber the strength to keep going are those pure, uncorrupted, hardcore simps. Just like I used to support Miho. I need their support too. More than anything, these early fans are the future whales and VIPs of my channel. While casual, passing viewers might fill up the active viewer count, it's the dedicated simps who send the donations. I must never forget that. I have to approach them with a heart full of gratitude, because I know exactly how much hard work goes into earning the money they send under the guise of "support."
I know for a fact that not every whale is born with a silver spoon in their mouth. I know all too well that there are people who donate the hard-earned money they made from grueling manual labor just to see their favorite streamer smile. Because I was one of them. They say money isn't everything, but there is no clearer expression of affection than a donation.
Still, I have to manage the concentration of simps very carefully. If the room smells too strongly of hardcore parasocial energy, it will stunt the channel's growth. But if there are no dedicated supporters at all, the chat will turn into a playground for trolls and malicious burner accounts, and my mental state will shatter first.
Balance is key. A distance where I can tease them when needed, but still receive their warm comfort when I want to be coddled. That sweet spot is perfect. Of course, making my fans fall in love with me is a given, but that love shouldn't become warped or one-sided. Ultimately, I am the one who dictates the atmosphere of the stream. I have to put in the effort. I can do this.
Let's do our best.
I spent the remaining days gathering my courage. I posted diligently on Bluebird, interacting with our future fans and drawing strength from their kind words. As I left hearts on tweets saying they couldn't wait to hear my voice, time flew by, and the day before our debut finally arrived.
"Tomorrow is our debut stream. Everyone's fully prepared, right?"
"Yes. Whew. I'm so nervous."
"Hehe. Once you've done this about four times, the nerves completely disappear."
"Jihae Eonni, please stop restarting your career."
"Hey! Kim Seowoo! You!!"
"Kyaaa! Minseo!! Eonni is picking on me!!"
"Why you...! Always running to super-strong Minseo for help. Come here! Get over here!"
"Uh, guys. Come on."
Jihae Eonni, Seowoo, the President, and me. The four of us had grown incredibly close over the past three months. We were close enough to hang out at each other's places now. You could say a deep sense of camaraderie had blossomed between us. Honestly, it felt more like the bond of soldiers who had survived a war together.
"Alright, alright, cut the play-fighting. Tomorrow at one, I'll start my stream first to gather as many viewers as possible, and then I'll raid Seowoo. Everyone gets about an hour for their self-introduction stream before passing the baton to the next person."
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood!"
The streaming order started with Seowoo, our most energetic member. Next was Jihae Eonni. And I was scheduled to go last.
The reason I'm going last is probably...
...because of my singing, which was one of my greatest weapons. It was a strategy to deliver a massive finishing blow at the end. Unlike Seowoo, who was quadrilingual, bubbly, and always high-energy, or Jihae Eonni, the queen of Just Chatting who could talk for twelve hours straight on any given topic, I wasn't particularly gifted at conversation. Therefore, I had to show them a performance. And that was my singing. To reel in the casual viewers who only tuned in for music and turn them into my dedicated simps, I needed to blast through a killer karaoke session right from my very first stream.
Just Chatting is way too hard.
Before waking up in Choi Minseo's body, I had barely spoken to anyone, so communicating with others was actually quite a challenge for me. I couldn't help but envy Seowoo, who could carry a stream with the most bizarre topics using sheer cuteness and charm, and Jihae Eonni, who possessed such a vast wealth of trivia that she could talk endlessly about anything. Even the President had agreed that since I lacked a natural gift for gab, we should focus on a performance-heavy approach, which was why I was placed last. Seowoo would build up the hype, our most stable member Jihae Eonni would maintain the viewer count, and then they would hand the baton to me so I could convert the crowd into die-hard fans with my singing. That was the plan!
"Alright, then. Tomorrow is the day of the final battle. Everyone get a good night's sleep tonight and make sure you're in peak condition."
"Yes, President!"
"Good luck, everyone!"
"We'll do great. We've worked so hard for the past three months."
With the President's encouragement ringing in our ears, we headed back to our respective homes. Tomorrow, at long last, I would officially become a VTuber.