I'm Sorry

Seo Jia couldn't take her eyes off the VTuber Sniper Gallery for a long while.

What filled her retinas now was a clip of the VTuber Yoo Serin.

It was unmistakably Arin's voice, but the avatar was one she'd never seen before.

That much she could pass over—maybe the kid had gotten a new one. The old one hadn't exactly been the kind male viewers preferred, after all.

She'd wanted to say something, but how was she supposed to tell a child to go change her avatar when the girl barely had any money?

She's… way too good at this, though?

More than the avatar, the problem was the gameplay. Honestly, Jia had never been able to call Arin a strong gamer—yet the footage told a completely different story.

Was she seriously melting the boss like some ancient veteran?

Jia had met Arin in person. She knew for a fact the girl was thirteen…

There was no way that was a thirteen-year-old girl's skill level.

Even the way she talks is a little off…

Arin had used a cute way of speaking from time to time. She was a kid, after all. But even accounting for that, the VTuber in the clip used turns of phrase Jia had never heard from her, and every so often something distinctly adult slipped through.

"Guess she studied hard on being a VTuber."

Well, if she'd locked in a concept, that wasn't so strange. It had clearly worked—1,200 people had tuned in, after all.

Clearing Laso that easily could make sense if she'd spent ages chipping it down and nothing else, but that wasn't a smart choice. It would get exposed soon enough.

…No matter how she turned it over, that skill at thirteen just didn't add up.

"Huuuuuh…"

Jia shook the tangled thoughts out of her head, tossed her phone aside without looking, and flopped flat onto the bed.

It wasn't jealousy. Arin was such a sweet kid—Jia had always hoped things would go well for her.

Four-digit viewers, huh…

Was she regretting it?

The thought that if she hadn't switched platforms—if she'd stayed on Pajijik—some of that success might have spilled her way. The what-if rose up on its own, and Jia shook her head hard, forcing her mind empty.

I didn't have a choice.

She'd been too broke. Streaming while juggling part-time work, sending whatever scraps she scraped together from a few dozen viewers back home as living expenses. When she'd started wondering whether to quit entirely because the channel didn't look like it would ever grow, the signing bonus from a brand-new platform had been far too sweet.

And the slim hope of maybe over there… had done its share of the convincing.

Now the end of that contract was right in front of her.

Should I… reach out?

She hadn't managed to build an audience on the new platform either, and she'd been planning to head back to Pajijik. Get a foot into collabs somehow, rub shoulders with the big agencies, claw up some name recognition. She and Hayun, who'd transferred with her, had sworn to do exactly that.

In that situation, if a friend she'd been close with could just hold onto a mid-tier size…

"Aagh! No!!"

Jia, still sprawled on the bed, suddenly drummed her feet against the mattress.

Of course both of them had had their reasons, and it was Arin's side that had turned down the invitation to transfer. But to a kid, it might have felt like betrayal—or abandonment.

They'd still messaged on Kotalk now and then after the move, but…

If we run into each other on stream later, I'll just talk to her then.

Unless Arin came to her first, going back to how things used to be would be hard.

"Thanks for the meal!"

Dinner tonight was galbi. Somehow Mother had known it was her favorite and laid out a generous spread.

"Eat plenty."

"You and Dad too!"

She piled meat onto a mound of rice in a hurry and sent it straight to her mouth. The fluffy grains and the texture of the ribs flooded her brain with pure bliss.

Ah. Life is worth living.

Twenty years of surviving on nothing but instant food. Just being able to eat home cooking like this made every single day happy. She was finally, painfully learning how precious family was—the kind of thing other people took for granted!

"Arin, how's the streaming going?"

While she was wolfing down her food, Mother asked. Stuck in her room all day doing who-knows-what alone, of course they'd be curious.

"Great!"

She swallowed what was in her mouth and answered with conviction.

"Yesterday I hit over a thousand viewers!"

"A… a thousand?!"

This time it was Father who echoed her, eyes round as he stared.

"That's a lot of people watching, isn't it?"

"Right? I made a ton of money too, you know!"

There went that speech quirk again.

"Wow, look at you—you're basically a celebrity!"

"At this rate, are you going to end up on one of those YouTube guest seats?"

"This ajumma and her daydreams. How is a thirteen-year-old supposed to get on something like that?"

"Why not? It could happen. Actually, isn't it pretty likely?"

It really could. Something like NoQuiz, or Jeongyeolman. Once it came out she was genuinely thirteen, why wouldn't they invite her? A girl the size of a postage stamp who could wipe the floor with pros at games.

"Someday I'll become the VTemp and spoil you both rotten, so don't you worry about retirement!"

"V… VTemp? What's that?"

"VTuber Emperor. It means I'm number one on the whole platform."

"Haha! VTemp! That's got a nice ring to it!"

She let Father's thoroughly middle-aged line sail past one ear and shoveled more food into her mouth.

"If that happens, I'll make crazy money, you know? I'll get you an apartment in Gangnam."

"Aigoo, no need. Just stay healthy for us, always."

"Of course I'll take care of my health too."

Even if they said they didn't want it, she intended to be a good daughter. That was what Yoo Arin had wanted. When she'd read the diary, she'd promised herself she'd make the girl's wishes come true.

"Thanks for the meal!"

"You're done already?"

"Yep! It was too good!"

It was delicious—and she also had a stream to prep for.

"I'm off to work, then!"

She rinsed the dishes, stacked them neatly, and headed straight for her room.

A little lurking before going live.

Well. They were still going strong—you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had to admire the dedication.

Makes sense. No other firewood around.

This was a gallery that only came alive when something blew up, and the VTuber scene had been dead quiet lately. So after days of nothing but fandom wars, they'd finally found something to chew on.

To these guys, Yoo Serin was a stick of gum that kept giving up juice no matter how hard they chewed.

"Kehehe…"

And contrary to what they wanted, this was exactly the picture she'd been hoping for.

If my dear friends want more firewood, I'll keep feeding it to them.

She wanted them talking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nonstop—why the hell would she fold?

The plan for today had been LoL ranked, but one look at the gallery and that plan changed.

Clackclackclackclack—

She hurried to rewrite the stream title.

That was it. Nothing could be more perfect. That title alone, paired with a black screen, would drag every last one of those moths straight to the flame!

"I'm a total genius, you know."

Had she always been this sharp? What were the big agencies even doing while a viral genius like her was sitting right here?

Ah—not that even if they got on their knees begging please come to us! this (provisional) VTemp would ever show up.

"Ahem!"

She cleared her throat and lined up a few motions that had already clicked into place. Use this one here, that one next. By the time she decided that was enough, stream time was almost on top of her.

She hadn't even gone live yet and chat was already on fire.

She refreshed the VTuber Sniper Gallery open on her secondary monitor, and—

Posts were pouring in real time. No joke—easily ten a second!

These adorable little bastards.

She laughed. How did they move without a single inch of error?

They danced exactly the way she wanted, as if they were sitting in the palm of her hand.

Click—

Figuring she'd enjoyed the show long enough, she hit the broadcast button.

A moment later, the black backdrop she'd prepared filled the stream.

Chat scrolled too fast for the eye to follow. Watching the viewer count slam into three thousand in no time, she forced her voice down into something calm.

Then came the finishing stroke—one perfect line.