Pudding's Ecchi Awakening
A day had passed since my collab stream with big sis Latte. My followers and subscribers were steadily climbing. Followers had jumped by about 70k, blowing past 220k already.
"Must be 'cause she's a 2-million-sub VTuber..."
She was on a whole different level from that nagging 1-million scrub.
What, some foreign media spying on the mortal realm? Just a few donations and bam—this kind of impact...
Angel33 donated 1,000,000 coins!
"...So what the hell was that about, anyway."
A 1-million-won donation with no message. Bursting into my 3 AM stream out of nowhere, scratching everyone the wrong way with her Kyoto dialect, then dropping a massive sum and vanishing without a word?
No matter how I racked my brain, I couldn't figure out her angle. In the entertainment world where everyone's way too honest about their desires, this kind of person just didn't exist.
"Whatever... not my problem right now."
I had bigger fish to fry than some visual novel route with a 2-million VTuber.
The urgent issue was NewTube. No proper edited videos up yet—just a few unedited full streams over 2 hours long. And subs had already hit 83k, basically silver button territory...
"If this keeps up..."
We're fucked. Not some meme Kamen Rider edit fucked—this was real-deal fucked potential.
NewTube has this thing called the algorithm. Click-through rates, watch time, session retention. Basically, it recommends videos viewers might like. VTubers game it strategically: weird niche content no one else does, collabing with big names via connections, stirring drama with politics or reckless leaks—whatever pulls aggro.
They analyze and exploit it, no holds barred. And one universal truth: consistent uploads on similar themes make the algorithm pick you up easier.
But...
Expecting the algorithm to carry unedited full streams? Fat chance. Views were popping now off hype bubble, but who knows how long? And we couldn't sustain like this.
"Gotta get NewTube rolling properly."
Slap a defibrillator on it before the algorithm flatlines. And to run it right, I needed an editor.
"If I could just snag one from big sis Latte..."
「Wh-what the fuck?! You wanna steal my—my editing slave... no, my editor?!」
「Yeah.」
I'd floated the idea to Latte before, back when she loaned me her chat mod. Could I borrow an editor too?
Her response? Violent rejection.
「No way!! Absolutely not!! Over my dead body!!」
「Come on... I'm not NTRing or anything. Just borrow for a bit and return 'em...」
「That's exactly NTR, you crazy golden sun bitch!!」
First time she'd flipped out like that since I brought up her age. Editors were core staff, unlike chat mods, so I got the reaction... kinda.
「Anyway, I oppose this deal...!! My editor's loyal. No amount of your money will poach 'em.」
「You sure about that?」
「......」
So no poaching from Latte. Meant I had to find my own.
And I had a few connections lined up for exactly this.
"This is why networks rock."
Yeah, yeah, connections again. But in the mud pit of entertainment, they're not optional—they're survival. Once built, they save your ass in unexpected spots. No loss for me.
I slumped into my computer chair, twisting into some weird pose to ponder.
"Hmm... who to recruit..."
Broadcasters? Nah. But editors? Options galore: ADs from music shows, freelance film folks, variety show peeps. And the last one...
"Do Hamin."
Aka the junkie. Gambling addict, drug felon. Name screams dopamine overload.
Obviously not hiring her as editor. Singer-songwriter, so composing? Sure. Video editing? Clueless.
Plus, couldn't trust a girl currently rotting in juvie.
"Gotta meet her eventually to jail the CEO rep..."
But not ready to start yet—prep needed.
Anyway, the one I needed was her bro. Do Hajun. Surface-level unknown composer, but...
That wasn't it. He'd been big in "the scene" long before I VTubed.
Animator Pudding. Big shot in otaku circles back in the day.
Do Hajun. 29. Freelancer. Holed up in his studio for n years, dodging parents' nagging on the excuse of composing.
Right now, warming a VTuber stream, grinning like an idiot.
"Heh... uhihih..."
On screen: pink-haired twintail mega-busty beauty. Like the otaku world's global dream embodied—drool-inducing just to look at.
"Ugh... pudba..."
Wait, drool or brain fluid leaking? Those huge tits dumbed him down? Babbling like a retard.
In short: Do Hajun was a V-taku. And V-takus leaking over this? As natural as sunsets and breezes.
Of course, thinking about who was "inside" that virtual rig... his fapping wasn't exactly standard.
'Frankly, ogling my little sis's coworker as a waifu feels kinda iffy...'
Whatever. Who cares about a sis getting busted for drugs? Barely family anyway—no biggie for him.
"And Yume's a 17-year-old high school girl dreaming of idols."
Zenith's Seong Eunha? Pfft... who? Heard the name before sis got locked up, maybe...
Anyway. Rationalizing like always, he kept simping his VTuber—then suddenly pulled something from the studio corner.
Clunk!
22-inch large drawing tablet. From 3 years back, his go-to for animations. Dust-bunny central now.
Grabbed it, stylus in hand, started drawing.
"Can't just sit here."
Prime otaku accident hit. Once "struck," stopping? Impossible for him.
Scribble, stroke!
Rough lines fast. Form emerges, character appears. Clean lines over, base colors, cell shading for shadows.
Pen after ages—no hesitation. Muscles woke instantly; pink-haired girl sharpened on screen.
Just before animating the finished piece. About to add pervy details to navel, underboob—then.
Bang!
"H-hiiik...!"
Door flies open. Woman appears in his studio. Her unreal beauty made him shriek and tumble from his chair.
"S-Seo, Seong... Se, Seong Eunha..."
Eunha Seong. Coworker of his sister's—and the Red Pill of the VTuber Yume he'd just been drawing.
She yanked off her cap and mask, face blank as ever.
"...Why so shocked? I'm not a ghost."
"Th-that's... th-this is..."
Hajun flailed, stammering nonsense. Then spotted the stylus in his hand—hid it behind his back, awkward laugh.
"......"
She shoved him aside with one hand, peeked at the tablet.
Screen: blood-veined navel and underboob exposed raw.
Eunha frowned.
"Hentai...?"
Hajun desperately scanned for an escape window. Too bad—his soundproof studio had none.