Powerless
I’ve heard people say YouTube’s algorithm is incomprehensible, but it’s surprisingly simple. It recommends new videos based on country, gender, age, and the types of videos you watch often. Whether a video gets recommended depends on a combination of factors—its thumbnail, title, description, tags, comments, and more. People craft videos around words that viewers like, tags that get searched frequently, and genres that rack up plays. Do that, and anyone can catch the algorithm’s eye. And to keep that going, watch time and upload consistency are what really matter.
The longer people watch your videos and the more regular your upload schedule, the more the algorithm pushes your content to others. Once it decides your channel and videos are reliable, it starts showing them not just to people already interested in the topic, but occasionally to viewers with no connection to it at all. Think of the YouTube algorithm like an advertising business. Just as it makes sense to favor people who work steadily and generate solid revenue, the platform boosts channels that keep producing well-received videos. That’s how YouTube secures stable, massive ad profits.
Average watch time is around seven minutes… That’s pretty decent. The only thing left is upload frequency. All I have to do is keep posting consistently.
“Alright, time to get back to work.”
That wasn’t a problem for me. I was taking a short break watching YouTube when a message notification popped up. It was from Osorin. Summarizing the long message she’d written right up to the character limit, it went like this:
1. This is Osorin.
2. Thank you so much for the video.
3. Hey, let’s be friends.
4. (Discord link)
The chat messages flew by at a rapid pace. She seemed like the excitement from the stream still hadn’t worn off. It made sense—going from an average of a hundred viewers to suddenly having chats scroll faster than you could read them would do that to anyone. She later told me that when she checked the studio records, the peak concurrent viewers had exceeded a thousand.
Just like during the stream, she seemed like a genuinely cheerful person in real life too. Even through text, her energy came through loud and clear.
Since I’d never been to college, that was all I meant, but I chuckled at how she jumped to her own conclusions. We continued our lighthearted chat for a while. Mostly it was her venting and me listening, but the conversation stretched past thirty minutes. Then she asked:
A voice call? I hesitated. If I were her contracted editor, calling would be normal for communication, but right now there was no need. Still, even though I’d gotten used to this body, my short fingers made typing a little inconvenient. If I’m editing and chatting at the same time, it might strain my hands. Back when I used to sit in front of a computer for long hours, my fingers and wrists had ached constantly. Chatting probably wouldn’t hurt that much, but it couldn’t hurt to take precautions.
Knowing the old man, he’d probably just tell me to use the mic without asking permission. Even if I bought a new one, same-day delivery meant a voice call wasn’t far off. She won’t be surprised by my voice, right? Unlike men, some women keep a youthful voice even as adults, so it would be hard to guess my age from voice alone. I had no intention of hiding it. Still, you never know what life has in store. Would we ever actually meet in person? I wasn’t sure if that day would come, but if it did, I wondered if she’d react as flustered as the old man had when I revealed my identity. The thought brought a mischievous smile to my face.
***
“Sua, are you okay?”
One day, Writer Song, who had come to check on me under the guise of supervision, took one look at my face and said that. Looking worried, she grabbed my cheeks and examined my face from every angle.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine…”
“If you’re fine, then why does your face look like this? Your dark circles are down to your chin!”
“Oh.”
I must have been pushing myself too hard with editing lately. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t gone to bed properly in ages. I always fell asleep at the computer and woke up in bed.
“I’ve been so absorbed in work lately…”
“Work? Don’t tell me you’ve been editing without even sleeping?”
Unable to meet Writer Song’s eyes, I glanced away. Seeing that, her anger shifted to the old man.
“Seriously, what have you been doing to let her get this worn down?!”
“I-I just let her do what she wanted… Why are you yelling at me? I even carry her to bed when she falls asleep at the computer… Besides, I’ve been busy with work lately too.”
“If the orphanage director saw Sua like this, he’d clutch the back of his neck and collapse. Everyone, get dressed right now.”
“Why clothes?”
“At this rate she’ll turn into a vampire. We’re going for a walk.”
“…Can’t we just open a window and get some sun?”
“Sua, be good and come along.”
“Yes…”
At Writer Song’s firm command, we reluctantly put on our outdoor clothes. I’d been planning to try something new with the fresh video source I’d found yesterday…
“Hurry up!”
Swallowing my disappointment, I quietly put on my shoes.
*
“Huff, huff… Keck! Haa…”
I gulped down the cold January air. With every breath, I could feel the air traveling straight from my throat to my lungs as I tried to replenish the oxygen I lacked.
“I-I can’t anymore…”
Staggering, I barely made it to the flowerbed and leaned against it. The cold marble felt pleasantly cool against my overheated body. The two adults stared at me in disbelief.
“Kid… You really do have terrible stamina.”
“We might need to start her on an exercise routine…”
We were at a national park a short drive from the studio. We had started with what was supposed to be a light walk. At first it was fine—anyone can walk a little. But instead of the single lap I’d expected, the two of them just kept going. By the time we’d circled the park three times, my thin legs were trembling like a newborn giraffe’s, silently screaming in protest.
I-I can’t believe my body has this little stamina…!
I was just as shocked by my own condition. I’d known I had no athletic talent, but I never imagined my stamina would be this bad. Even if girls were supposed to have less muscle strength, collapsing after walking barely three kilometers was definitely abnormal. Back when I was a man, my stamina hadn’t been great either, but this body’s weakness was on another level. I was starting to miss my old self.
“H-ha ha…! It’s fine! I’m just going to stay inside and edit anyway, so it doesn’t matter if my stamina is bad!”
“Of course it matters.”
Writer Song immediately shot back. She handed me a water bottle and turned to the old man.
“From now on, take Sua for a walk every day, or at least every other day. At this rate she’ll need rehab instead of exercise.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“And make sure she eats plenty. Nutrition is important, but just focus on quantity for now. Last time I saw her eat, she pecked at her food like a bird.”
“Like a bird…”
I was trying to eat more. I’d even managed to finish four takoyaki the old man brought recently… though it had taken thirty minutes.
“If Sua refuses to go out, take her computer hostage.”
“Hostage?”
“What?”
“No exercise, no computer.”
“What?!”
In that moment, gentle Writer Song’s face looked positively demonic. What a terrifying idea—taking the computer away from someone who lived and worked on it! It was tyranny. Surely the old man would understand how I felt. He was a PD too. He had to sympathize and object to such an extreme measure.
Looking up at him with that hope, I watched as he pondered.
“Hmm… Writer Song, that’s—”
Please!
“—a really good idea. Have you raised kids before?”
Damn it!
Writer Song spoke like it was second nature.
“It works wonders on my disobedient nephews. If they don’t finish their homework, no games. It’s pretty effective on kids this age.”
“Oh? I didn’t know you had a talent for handling children. Any other tips?”
“Plenty. When a kid won’t eat—”
They whispered together, discussing childcare tips while I stood there. As if secretly passing on martial arts techniques, the two of them spoke with grave seriousness while I faced yet another crisis on top of the computer ban.
Ughhh…! Just open the lid already!!
My throat was parched, but with my pathetic grip strength, I couldn’t twist open the tightly sealed cap.
Aaaah! I just want some water!
I was powerless.