Certification
This Chuseok holiday had tangled itself up with Hangul Day and National Foundation Day, stretching into a full week off.
Maybe that was why so many streamers prepared not just collabs, but long-form broadcasts they could settle into for the long haul.
Sweet Mare was no different.
Well, “no different” mostly meant a feast of games they could all play together—but that alone was more than enough fun.
With every last holiday stream wrapped, today was the single day in the whole week when every member of Sweet Mare was offline at once.
Tomorrow they were planning one last ridiculously fun three-person game to close out the break, and the anticipation had me buzzing all day long.
I was riding that high while watching some other clipper’s video when—
—Kotalk!
Lua had messaged first.
I had nothing to hide from her, so I answered with zero shame.
She asked “Mine?” like it was the most natural thing in the world.
There used to be a stronger sense that she kept Lulu and herself a little separate. Lately that wall had vanished completely.
Was I just that comfortable now?
I knew full well that if other VTuber fans ever found out, it wouldn’t end with simple flaming. Still, I decided to go full shameless.
Kuroa Lulu was Kuroa Lulu and Lua Im was Lua Im—but they were the same person either way. And I had been friends with Lua long before she ever became Kuroa Lulu.
Sure, there had been a stretch where we drifted a little, but we had gotten close again, hadn’t we?
So I figured I was allowed to be a bit bold about it.
She fired back “Are you crazy?” with absolute confidence.
Crazy? I was being completely reasonable, thank you very much.
The second I started typing “just looking for editing references,” I felt the wrongness settle in. Less a vague sense of unease and more a clear flash of danger.
I was still hiding the fact that I was Mangjjonku from Lua.
It was true that Mangjjonku had played no small part in Kuroa Lulu’s growth. It was equally true that Mangjjonku was the number-one culprit behind every nasty meme and hit piece about her.
If I ever told Lua “I’m Mangjjonku,” she might genuinely chew me into sticky little pieces. And if I sent her the word “reference”? There was no way that brilliant brain of hers would miss the implication.
If she caught on, that day would be my memorial day. I was certain of it.
So for the sake of my own life, I could never, ever let her find out I was Mangjjonku.
Which meant it was time to lie.
I mixed the lie in nice and smooth. Lua’s reply came back seething.
For a clean rebuttal I snapped photos of my computer desk and bookshelf and sent them over.
The desk was decked out with Kuroa Lulu illustrations and matching themed keycaps. The shelf displayed the acrylic stand and photocards that had arrived as album bonuses not long ago. There was even a tapestry hanging with them.
The second she saw it, she bought it completely.
…while pretending she wasn’t Lulu herself, of course.
For the record, I wasn’t flustered this time. If anything, the message just irritated me. Maybe because it was text?
I let the feeling through unfiltered.
The second I hit send, the usually lightning-fast Lua went silent.
Three full minutes passed with nothing. I was about to lock my phone and check later when—
—Kotalk!
Her reply landed.
And it was no ordinary reply.
"Lulu… wants the Lulu-dan to only look at Lulu…?"
I knew exactly what a voice message meant. I swallowed hard and hit play.
And then…
Ear-melting Lulu aegyo poured straight into my skull.
Yeah. This was Lulu. This was the real thing.
She followed it up with a blunt, bro-tier “Happy now?”
If she had actually been some bro-tier ball-friend, I could have fired back something pure sexual-harassment. Sadly (or fortunately?), Lulu was not that kind of friend, so all I could manage was a polite “Thank you.”
Even so, she fired off another message that radiated pure rage.
…That was a little harsh. I just liked Lulu, that was all.
After that I started putting together holiday-special Lulu clip compilations.
I had been building them with a ranking vibe, which naturally turned them into long-form videos—and lately those long-forms were pulling solid numbers.
Shorts used to dominate completely. My channel’s highest-viewed short had blown past 1.1 million without breaking a sweat. The best long-form, on the other hand, topped out around three or four hundred thousand. The gap had been massive.
Not anymore. Recently shorts averages had dipped a little while long-form views climbed. Trends cycled; right now long-form was having its moment.
And honestly, long-form simply paid better per view. You could drop mid-roll ads, and once a video crossed eight minutes you could slot in two of them. Even accounting for people who skipped, the revenue still crushed shorts CPM.
That was why I was putting real effort into the long-forms—ranking the clips, adding extra polish, even when the whole thing was basically just a shorts compilation.
Anyway, I finished the long-form and hit upload.
Even on a day off, the new video pulled in a flood of Lulu-dan. I fell asleep at my desk smiling at the rising view count.
Then the next day I got massive news.
What kind of news?
Silver Video Shipping
The Silver Video—the award you only got once you hit 100k subscribers—was on its way.
It had already been a little while since I crossed the threshold, so I figured it would show up soon. Turns out “soon” was today.
I wanted to show it off. I wanted to show it off badly.
It might sound weird to say out loud, but a huge chunk of video creators are just attention whores. Most creators period, really. People who want their talent, their skill, their finished work to be seen.
I was one of them, so of course I wanted to flex this Silver Video.
Easy, right? Just post it. Except there was one problem.
No matter where I took the photo in this house, she would know. Why?
Because outside of the people who actually lived here, Lua knew our place better than anyone.
I doubted she could ID the wallpaper, but you never knew.
Which left only one option.
“…Hyung.”
“What.”
“Think you could help me out today?”
I had no choice but to call in backup.
With Junwoo’s help I moved into his room—the one place whose layout Lua had never seen. I lined up every Lulu good I owned for the verification shot and finished the setup.
Afternoon arrived, and so did the Silver Video.
The second it appeared I tore open the package, set the framed Silver Video in the prepared spot, and—
—Click!
Took the photo.
“Hyung, thank you.”
“Yeah. Congrats on 100k. At this rate though, aren’t you gonna pass Aris and Mei in subscribers?”
Would I? I honestly didn’t know.
But if it happened, it would feel weird.
I genuinely loved Aris and Mei as VTubers too. If a mere clipper—someone who just reprocessed their content—ended up with more subscribers than the people who provided the source material, I’d feel guilty.
Sadly, my channel’s highest-viewed video already outranked both of their personal bests. I was starting to believe that someday I really might overtake them in subscribers.
“…Should I start making more Aris and Mei clips too?”
“Not a bad idea. You’re basically a celebrity inside the Sweet Mare fandom anyway.”
…Yeah. Not just Lulu. I should put together some clips for the other two as well.
I probably couldn’t pour the same level of obsession into them that I did for Lulu—but I liked both of them plenty, so it was worth a shot.