There's No Way a Toxic Player Could Be This Cute (3)

The chat reactions after seeing that Mazia’s in-game name was HumanSignalFlareKimFirecracker—just like the post that had gone up in the Momo Gallery—were all over the place.

One group consisted of people who only ever watched Rain’s streams. The so-called “VTuber? Only Rain” cool-kid clique. Most of them had only found her after she featured on the runner-up’s new song from last season’s Show Me The Lime, so their reactions were lukewarm at best.

The next group were people who had come in through Momo’s streams and watched both her and Rain. These were the hardcore BattleColle fans who clicked their tongues at Momo’s gameplay—which was so bad it was embarrassing to even call it trolling—yet kept coming back because they couldn’t forget that insane trash-fire flavor. They recognized the legendary toxic player Signal Flare the instant they saw her, exactly like the reactions in the Momo Gallery.

The last group were first-generation fans who had shown up today because of the whole Find Rain incident, along with the usual chaos agents. Their only interest was Mazia appearing on stream. It was as if they had formed some kind of Mazia Debut Promotion Committee; they kept blindly repeating unhinged praise and spam.

The viewers were moving in completely separate clumps, like water and oil, never quite mixing. Then Rain’s commentary cut off, turning the whole thing into one giant collective monologue. It looked like a sound issue or broadcast accident, and the Tree Wiki editors were already preparing to add an “Incident” section to Rain’s page.

In reality, the silence was nothing more than Cheon Do-hee’s brief pause to watch my reaction.

…So she’s trying to let it slide and see if I’ll pick it up.

Even someone who isn’t a streamer would know this was the perfect timing to introduce myself and seize everyone’s attention. The chat and donations were flooded with nothing but Signal Flare and Employee D talk; there would never be a better moment to become famous.

But I firmly believe I must remain beneath Parallel’s VTubers. No matter how many handshake requests I receive, I never assume the hands are reaching out because of me.

Did she know that pretending not to notice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would only set the fire ablaze even more? It was a truly genius choice at infuriating people.

Still, it was within expectations, so Cheon Do-hee finally spoke.

“First of all. I’m sure many of you are curious about our Employee D’s in-game name. Those of you who watch my streams already know, but… yeah, it somehow turned out this way.”

“I didn’t lock her up. I made her my manager, and since she does the job well I’m currently employing her as staff.”

“Hey, I said I didn’t lock her up.”

No matter how much Momo tried to cover for me, if I stayed completely silent it would cause problems. Fifteen thousand people had gathered here today with one clear expectation. They had come to satisfy their curiosity and anticipation about Employee D—Mazia. Falling short of those expectations would only return as disappointment. Exactly like this.

Even with all the complaints pouring in, I had no intention of communicating directly with the viewers. This was Rain’s stream, and even the boss herself was present. So was I just going to stay on the sidelines until the end and leave everyone disappointed?

No. That was exactly why Cheon Do-hee had joined the collab—to prevent that and protect me at the same time.

“Employee D. The viewers are asking you to speak. What do you think?”

“About what?”

“They want you to explain that you’re Signal Flare.”

“Do I have to explain? I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong to the viewers.”

“Oh, but you’ve done plenty wrong to me, right?”

“Yes. Well… I reflected on it a lot while working as your manager.”

The viewers could have gotten angry at me for only responding to Boss Momo, but my civilian shield was still functioning perfectly. In other words, they would soon realize that the only way to talk to me was through Do-hee’s prompting. They would also start to think, She really is a civilian after all. Pushing her only backfires, so let’s ease up a bit.

Above all, my voice carried an extreme level of cuteness. It made it impossible for the viewers to do anything bad. Even though I was speaking calmly, the voice had an innocent, childlike purity that made people feel like they would make me cry if they pushed too hard.

Of course, Momo’s old “violent woman” slander—which had already died down—was now flowing backwards because of my cuteness, but that was fine. It was proof that people saw me as someone who needed to be protected.

Just because I once mentioned that my parents run a sashimi restaurant, that slander has followed me for years. Do-hee answered in an annoyed tone.

“What was that donation just now? Do you want to get banned from Parallel?”

Of course, as a pro streamer, Do-hee could turn even that into broadcast material and use it to achieve her goals.

“You’re not saying anything so everyone’s misunderstanding, Employee D-nim. Please explain.”

“The boss got hit a lot more. I used to take turns with my sub account and beat her.”

“Hey.”

“They’re asking how many smurf accounts you have for sniping?”

“That’s a trade secret, so I can’t disclose it.”

After going back and forth through Cheon Do-hee like that, light bulbs eventually started going off in the viewers’ heads. Huh, every casual remark this person drops is kind of sharp. If she really was a toxic player, maybe she beat the boss black and blue too? Curiosity began to bloom.

“Hey. I’m not that bad! I still hit Gold before the end of every season, right?”

“That’s true. But it’s also true that you play like garbage at the start of the season because you can’t adapt to the meta.”

“What do you mean, like garbage?”

“It’s true that you’re really bad. Still, I’ll say you’re better than Rain.”

“What the— Why are you suddenly dragging me into this?”

“Rain, you stay quiet. You really are terrible. I feel even more wronged because I’m being compared to you.”

“Nooooooooo.”

Do-hee, who was extremely serious when it came to Battle Colosseum, had genuinely been scratched by that last remark.

“So, do you think you can hard-carry us by the collar today, Employee D Signal Flare-nim?”

The sincerity was naturally passed to the next batter, Mazia, and I answered with equal sincerity.

“It’ll be difficult with two pieces of baggage. Still, I’ll give it a try.”

“It’s not two, it’s one, Employee D-nim.”

“It’s two.”

“Am I the baggage fix?”

“Rain is about ten times heavier than the boss. Um, I don’t mean body weight, of course.”

The slip of the tongue I tried to cover up only poured fuel on the viewers’ mischievousness.

It was a little emotional, but the structure had solidified perfectly: viewers set the ball up, Do-hee or Rain tossed it, and I spiked it. Even though the ball ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠always ended up smacking Do-hee or Rain in the face, that was actually good for her. Her philosophy was that a streamer must roast the viewers well, but must also get roasted just as skillfully.