157 - Seol Yun-seul: The Story Before I Became the Kariri Emperor
This was the tale of Seol Yun-seul, before I rose to become the empress of Kariri.
“Useless from start to finish. What the hell have you ever done to deserve keeping those eyes open, you lump of grudges!”
I’d at least thought Mom wouldn’t betray me. She was the one who’d protected me from Dad, who swung his fists every day after drowning in booze. But now, she was hurling a porcelain bowl at my face.
The shattered porcelain lay scattered across the floor in dozens of pieces. Blood trickled from my forehead and cheek down to my chin, dripping steadily, but I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head. That fragmented bowl probably mirrored my heart perfectly.
I left the house again. Just as I’d told Mom, I’d quit trainee life and mutually terminated my contract with the agency. And the process had been far too smooth.
All that talk about debut being right around the corner must’ve been lies. The company had never held any expectations for me from the start—that hit me like another shock.
For the first time in five years, I bit into a sausage bun, and tears welled up pathetically. Sitting on the playground swing, watching the sunset as I ate my first meal of the day. I wanted to believe the lump in my throat came from wolfing it down too fast.
“Hic... Hnngh... Waaahhh...”
The whole five years... gone. What the hell do I even have left?
A thigh burst from forcing a split too hard, how to polish a full-length mirror pretty with glass cleaner, barely making songs sound decent and nailing dance lines gracefully? I had no friends since I’d never gone to school, and going back now—what could I do when I didn’t even know math, let alone magic theory?
I felt like trash discarded into the world. A worthless roadside pebble with no value or use.
At least a pebble doesn’t think. But I dragged around idiotic thoughts of wanting to die every single day.
Was it because I was an idiot? The doctor said no, but maybe.
How could someone so full of disqualifiers become an idol? With nowhere for a fourteen-year-old to go, I had no choice but to crawl back home. I’d heard of runaway crews, but they scared me, so I never went near.
In the end, in that house full of shouting, I locked my door tight, pulled the covers over my head, and logged into my secret hideout like always.
I got some fleeting comfort watching them, thinking at least I’m not that bad, but it couldn’t chase away the crushing depression that followed.
“I want to die...”
Then one day, a comment popped up.
Who didn’t know that? I didn’t even have the energy to argue, just dead-eyed scrolled past.
Refreshed the page, and there it was:
1. All-in on crypto: Odds are under 1%, but who knows? Maybe you’re the lucky one lololol
2. Deep-sea fishing boat: Sturdy job AI/robots can’t replace—like reliable comfort food!
3. Raw fish market gig: If regular part-time sucks, maybe you didn’t look hard enough?
4. Enlist in resources: Pays big! At least the money! Overseas deployment? Double!
5. Vtubing: Good looks or talent? They ain’t here. Starting from zero? This is your only shot lololol
“Tch... Persistent commenter.”
There’s always that one type who replies to these posts religiously. No idea what’s their deal—superiority complex maybe.
I’d normally ignore it, but vtuber jumped out at me.
During grueling trainee days, I’d occasionally scour the net for vtuber streams. If it were me... could I make it?
No clue where that vague confidence came from.
Opened the VTube app to check vtuber videos, and:
A title totally opposite my fragile, porcelain self unfolded before me.
Yeah. This is it.
* * *
Kiriri had served admirably as Yun-seul’s excellent substitute. The character she’d created was inwardly tough, without a shred of hesitation.
But that rang hollow after last year, post-Chena’s death.
Panic attacks she’d never had as Kiriri struck even during VR logins. And today’s sudden scream match desertion—she wanted to call it force majeure, but she couldn’t.
“...”
Only the clatter of dishes echoed softly from the kitchen table.
Lights were off in the living room and master bedroom. Relying on the faint glow from a small lamp, the siblings ate dinner.
But younger brother Seol Taeyang didn’t like the heavy silence and slammed his chopsticks down.
“I’m not going home tonight.”
“Why?”
“How can I leave when you’re like this?”
“I-it’s... fine. Not the first time or anything...”
“Today was especially bad. You think so too, right?”
“...”
Yun-seul’s bloodshot eyes bulged with prominent veins.
“Then I’ll call Mom before I go.”
She was separated from her parents. This was Seol Yun-seul’s place.
Couldn’t stand the endless couple fights—flying dishes, golf clubs, sometimes blades.
And her middle school second-year brother Seol Taeyang occasionally crashed here for that liberating vibe.
“What’d Mom say?”
“Cursed me out.”
“Your stuff?”
“Came straight from academy, so I’ll just head to school from here tomorrow.”
“Do you. More dinner?”
“Nah. You cook way too bad, sis.”
“I... I went out of my way, you little shit...?”
“Yeah, self-roast well done.”
“You’re doing dishes!”
Yun-seul glared. Taeyang, sprawled on the sofa for downtime, had no choice but to glove up.
In a house 100% Yun-seul’s domain, he was thoroughly subordinate.
“You’re rich, sis—why no dishwasher?”
“Always think I should... ughhh everything’s too much troubleeeee.”
“Even ordering? Fix that apathy, sis.”
Taeyang meant it sincerely, but Yun-seul pretended not to hear.
She found zero interest in anything unrelated to her main gig.
Panic disorder made capsules risky, but VR was perfect therapy for her depression—Taeyang couldn’t argue.
“Couldn’t you just say you’re sick instead of that bullshit lie?”
Doorbell, delivery—unnecessary add-ons that blew up the incident.
If it was just “too sick for game,” they’d understand.
“Kiriri’s never sick.”
“Pfft, RP again?”
“Try being in that spot... mind goes blank, no thoughts. I did my... absolute best...!”
The TV Taeyang had on for her showed NoName’s stream still running.
Yun-seul lay upside-down on the sofa, black hair splayed on the floor in a weird pose.
Kiriri’s abrupt bail canceled the scrim, so now it was individual coach feedback time.
NoName had taught all she could—or had nothing left to teach—and silently ran ranked games.
“NoName’s cool, right? Totally badass?”
Taeyang boasted proudly from the kitchen. Every visit to Yun-seul’s, it was NoName crushing pro LoL players, him being a “long-time fan” in her chat—never not about her.
“Yeah. Hard to believe someone like that exists.”
Forced to watch by her brother, but surprisingly fresh—even innovative.
Everyone probably thinks it: She’s really 14?
She’d been shocked hearing her own song as NoName’s opening theme.
“You’re not quitting her streams... right?”
“Crazy? Hey, your allowance... all from my streams, punk!”
“Got it! Sorry, sis!”
“Sigh... ignore him.”
Taeyang mimicked Kiriri’s catchphrases. More mature than peers.
Yun-seul suddenly thought maybe he was deliberately lightening the mood.
Just then, dishes done, Taeyang kicked the precariously perched Yun-seul off the sofa and claimed it.
“Scoot. My spot.”
Thud—
“Seol Taeyang...! You wanna die?!”
“Don’t wanna.”
Mature my ass! Should’ve sent him home.
“Where you going? No more stream?”
“Yeah. Bedtime.”
“Already? And don’t check communities tonight, got it?”
“I won’t...!”
Back in her room, Yun-seul sighed deeply and turned on her phone.
Despite brotherly advice, ego-surfing her name was unstoppable.
A ritual for her as Kiriri.
She knew what to expect, but the flood of negativity was too much for one person.
“Haa...”
Kiriri was notorious for no-shows anyway. Panic hit infrequently, but pushing it as concept had limits.
Lying there, even sleep meds wouldn’t work.
Still easier as Kiriri than Yun-seul, so she climbed back into the capsule.
Honeybee Screecher wouldn’t get hurt.
NoName has sent you an invite. (2/3)
What’s this now?
An amusement park? Yun-seul frowned at NoName’s out-of-left-field proposal.
VR space? But why now?