The Manager Has Communication Issues
The next day’s one-year anniversary concert was, well, there was no need to say anything about it. A massive success! Tickets sold nearly double the conservatively projected amount—forty thousand in total. Even after giving a cut of the fees to NewTube, which handled the online ticketing, the profit was substantial. It was the very definition of hitting the jackpot. Of course, after subtracting the tens of millions spent renting the motion capture studio for a whole month during preparations, the 3D modeling and rigging costs that hadn’t been recouped from the showcase broadcast, the music production expenses, and all the other miscellaneous costs… and then factoring in the budget needed for the next content, new outfits, and the second generation of talents, not that much was actually left over. At least, that was what the boss said.
Still, just seeing the boss’s face bloom with joy in a single day made it impossible to deny that the concert had gone well. If they kept steadily generating net profit like this, attracting investment through solid management performance and gradually expanding the company’s scale… maybe one day they could escape the cramped fifteen-square-meter studio on the ninth floor of this building and build something on the scale of VachuVachu’s massive studio. With a place like that, they could plan 3D content to their heart’s content. Anyone who wanted to could drop by and stream. It would be heaven for VTubers.
Of course, VachuVachu’s motion studio reportedly cost around thirty billion won just to build, and even a medium-sized one that could accommodate ten people running around would require five billion. Parallel still had a long way to go. They would need to work even harder.
Time passed, and it was the following Tuesday. Once again, Mazia had become one with the sofa in the boss’s office. For a while now, Do-hee had been letting out little groans—ngh, ngh—but since she seemed to be wrestling with something on her own, Jia stayed quiet and simply fiddled with her phone. Then—
Thud.
“This won’t do.”
Do-hee slammed her desk and stood up, then strode over and plopped down heavily in the prime seat on the sofa. Since the boss’s legs were now visible in her peripheral vision, Jia quietly sat up as well.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about it nonstop.”
“About what?”
“You. Doing review streams. There’s a problem.”
When Mazia had first offered to do the broadcasts, Do-hee had reviewed the idea positively. But even though she had said it sounded good when she first heard the concept, the more they refined and concretized the plan, the more obstacles kept popping up.
“We’re already overloaded with work.”
“I’ve been on vacation for two straight weeks, though.”
“Right now it’s fine. We had the leeway to go to the PC bang together, after all. But once the second generation joins, who knows? If we’re doing monthly reviews, the chances that I won’t have time are extremely high.”
Long-term content like review streams had to be started with care. Once you began, it was hard to stop halfway by using internal circumstances as an excuse. If Cheon Do-hee said, I’m too busy, so we’ll take a short break, fans would immediately label it See? Another three-day vow.
“To keep the fans happy, you’d have to be able to handle the stream alone when I can’t make it. What do you think? Can you manage that?”
Mazia fell silent for a moment, thinking. During the eve-of-concert collab, the two of them had talked for four hours total, but Mazia had carried the conversation for about three of them. Especially during the segment where they reacted to old broadcasts, it had practically been her one-woman show. And yet her throat had been perfectly fine, and she hadn’t felt much pressure at all. Back in the day, an hour of talking would leave her hoarse. Now she had vocal cords of steel. At this point, she wondered if her stats had been redistributed from stamina, size, and overall health into her voice and appearance.
So handling a review stream that would last one to two hours at most by herself? Totally doable. Materials? She could reference the ones Do-hee had prepared and adjust the tone appropriately. Even if Do-hee was busy, she would at least review the script, so that wasn’t an issue either.
That left only one remaining problem: Mazia’s conversational style.
The reason her mouth had never stopped during the eve-of-concert stream was because there had been someone beside her to toss in topics, react, and play along. In other words, if there was someone who could fill in for Cheon Do-hee, it would be manageable. Without that, the conversation would probably keep dying out. Having watched plenty of streams herself, Jia knew very well that a broadcast with constant awkward pauses left viewers feeling frustrated.
“What if I call in other members when you can’t make it?”
“If the members agree in advance, there’s no problem. But even then, you’d have to be the main host. Asking them to memorize a script on top of everything else they already have to do would be too much.”
“Hmm. That makes sense.”
“So I think it’s best to assume you need to be able to carry the show completely solo before you start inviting others. That’s the easiest path for me, too.”
Moreover, if Mazia was going to host solo, one more condition came with it.
“And if you’re going to stream, I think we should cap your regular working hours at forty per week from now on.”
“Why?”
“Think about it. If you collapse while streaming, it would be a total disaster.”
Indeed, that would be on a completely different scale from a mere transmission issue. It was the kind of thing that could make the nine o’clock news. The CEO would be investigated, the finance manager would be arrested, and the operations manager would be painted as the evil superior who had ignored reports of overwork…
“Understood. Forty hours if I do the review streams. Or fifty-two if I don’t.”
“You don’t have to hit exactly fifty-two even if you’re not streaming… You know there’s no bonus for maxing it out, right? The Ministry of Labor will just put up radar and go, ‘These guys look suspicious…’”
“But then I’d lose the overtime pay…”
“We’ll prepare a separate contract for the streaming work and cover it that way, so don’t worry.”
In summary, she had to keep her regular weekly hours at forty while also being capable of hosting the streams entirely by herself. No matter how she looked at it, the conclusion was the same.
It wouldn’t be easy.
“I’ll think about it a bit more. It’s not like we’re starting right away anyway.”
“…So you’re not giving up entirely?”
“I don’t want to give up. It’ll help Parallel.”
“And you’ll still stick to forty hours?”
“Yes.”
The fact that Jia accepted the proposal so obediently made Do-hee strangely anxious. She couldn’t help but suspect there was some scheme hidden behind it.
“How come you’re not talking back at all this time?”
“I always listen to you, Boss.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
Mazia let out a small laugh, as if she understood exactly what Do-hee meant.
“During the eve-of-concert stream, I framed you as an evil boss and a dictator and tormented you, remember? That should be enough.”
Do-hee felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest. How could Mazia say something like that? Had a tiny angel finally taken up residence in the heart of this wicked woman?
“Ah, but… ugh…”
“W-what? What’s wrong? Are you sick again?”
“My stomach hurts… I think the only thing that will make this pain go away is snacks and soda…”
“……”
“Ugh, now I’m even getting dizzy. I might end up in the ER again…!”
Remember this well: when a wicked person says something kind, ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just buildup.
Do-hee delivered a crisp knuckle-drill to the crown of Jia’s head, then went to the break room and brought back snacks and drinks. While rubbing her throbbing scalp, Jia spent a long time absentmindedly nibbling on the snacks while staring at her phone, completely absorbed.
“…What have you been so busy with on your phone? You should be resting properly.”
“Ah, fanbase management.”
“Are you monitoring the gallery? You must have already checked the concert reactions. You’re not writing weird posts, are you?”
“Come on. If I write anything, I make sure it doesn’t get traced back.”
…That wasn’t exactly something to say with pride.
Right before the employee-only Magia gallery exploded, there had been two accounts belonging to Parallel staff there. One was the owner account, and the other was a regular employee fan account. Using the owner account, she had created the gallery in advance, become its owner, and written a notice calling it a shelter. The reason she went to such lengths was because she had learned people management from watching the boss. After all, when she had relentlessly tormented the boss, the boss had immediately hired her as manager. She was simply following the boss’s philosophy of keeping friends close and enemies even closer.
To think she could turn someone into a lifelong slave for a mere fifty thousand won—there was no more efficient personnel move than this. Labor was being devalued so badly on the internet these days. If she had earned more money she would have treated them better. Sorry, kids. I have to carry Parallel’s logs with my salary, so that’s that.
Anyway, ever since Pino closed the employee gallery this morning, she had been busy with this task. The reason her hands hadn’t stopped moving was because the owner had more to say than expected. Fortunately, four volunteers had shown up, and she had sold them blue owner tags for fifty thousand won each. One of them was suspiciously likely to be Pino, but she decided to keep quiet about it for now. Information asymmetry was always a usable weapon. If he caused trouble later, she could just yank his leash.
In any case, it was time to switch to auto-hunting mode. What mattered right now was…
Before these poor fans—who had put in effort but still hadn’t received anything in return—could turn dark, she would start the review streams. Her estimate was that they had about a month’s grace period. After that, suspicious users with suspicious IPs would start dropping shitposts everywhere. If she could crack their heads open before then, they would become excellent fans who would help her carry Parallel’s logs. To reduce the stress the boss would have to deal with later, it was worth paying attention now.
How can I change my speaking style?
Since she had started her social life alongside the boss, she had grown into someone optimized for adapting to others. Initiating conversation was a special privilege reserved for the stream’s owner. She had always thought of it as a right that shadows like herself should never even consider. Yet for the review streams, she had to become the owner. It was truly paradoxical and completely contradictory!
But for now, there was no clear solution. All she could do was lie on her back and stare blankly at the ceiling.
Vrrr.
— Incoming Call: Maru —
It was a very familiar name, but instead of a KakaoTalk or DingTalk message, it was an actual phone call. Wondering if it was urgent, she answered.
“Hello?”
[Oh! Miss Jia! How’s your body? The boss told me you were sick recently! I was so worried!]
It was rare to hear someone speak so energetically during a one-on-one call. The voice was so loud it sounded like she had swallowed a train whistle. Naturally, Jia lowered the call volume.
“Yes, I’m feeling much better. I’m almost completely back to normal now.”
[That’s a relief. You really can’t get sick! Do you know how shocked we all were when we heard the news after the concert?]
“If I had told you beforehand, you would have been too worried to prepare properly.”
[Ah. That’s true!]
In the past, she would have thought what does it matter to them if I’m sick or not? But she had learned to read the room, and after doing content with three of them, she had realized something. Somehow… she was being protected. Whether it was because she was small, or because her body was frail, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t for nothing that she had used up her remaining vacation days this week and gone to the hospital again. She didn’t want to cause trouble for those around her if she got sick again.
“Anyway, what did you call about?”
[Ah, if you’re free! Would you like to play a game with me later?]
“A game?”
[Yes! There’s an emergency I’m a Wolf collab tonight, but one of the people who was supposed to join suddenly had something come up! Since the game isn’t as fun when it’s not full, everyone’s scrambling to find substitutes… If you’re okay with it, could you join?]
Her body was almost fully recovered. This week was essentially just her going along with the boss’s surveillance. She had already taken care of everything that needed to be done at the hospital yesterday, and there didn’t seem to be any major issues. She would have to wait for the blood test results to be sure, but the previous ER bloodwork hadn’t shown any dangerous signs. Plus, she had never done anything with Maru before, so this felt like a good opportunity.
And the collab game was I’m a Wolf. It was a mafia-style party game that had been adapted online with added roles, maps, and various fun elements. For the past few years it had been an indispensable masterpiece in collabs. Originally, she would have quietly played the lubricant role among the streamers, but…
Wasn’t this the perfect time to practice leading conversations? It might make for quite a decent training ground.
While she was lost in thought, Maru called out to her again.
[Miss Jia…?]
“Ah, yes. I’ll join. When does it start?”
Maru answered energetically.
[We can start as soon as you get here!]