A Bit of Know-How

From the collab content straight into Lucy’s debut stream, everything flowed like water.

Miho had fired up her own broadcast right after, probably hoping to catch some of the collab’s spillover traffic, and I felt a little guilty about that part. I’d been so blatant about pushing Lucy—even pinning a manager badge—that it was hard to deny.

But there was no helping it. Inside me, Lucy was the top priority.

And it wasn’t as if there was zero spillover. Midway through Lucy’s debut, I snuck a glance at Miho’s viewer count and saw it sitting at two hundred. For Miho, who was only on day four and still flying under the radar, that alone was a real boost.

If it keeps bothering me, I can just do another collab later.

We’d already confirmed the chemistry was better than expected, so there was no downside.

With that settled, I was about to close out of the FM Community when Lucy’s song from earlier suddenly floated back into my head—the tone that hit my taste one hundred percent, the emotion that left a sweet ache in my chest. The moment the song ended, I’d cleanly admitted defeat. And for the rest of the content I’d shown such obvious favoritism that anyone watching could tell. There were two intentions buried in that.

First was the buildup for forming a crew later. I couldn’t just invent a crew out of nowhere and recruit Lucy; I needed a story the viewers would buy.

Second was to make the friendship visible so the spillover would keep flowing—so that when I wasn’t live, my fans would drift over to Lucy’s stream instead of somewhere else. It wouldn’t be easy at first, but if I kept popping up as manager on her broadcasts after I signed off, the effect would be substantial.

Collab content wrapped successfully… so is it finally audition time?

Fatigue rolled over me. I shut down the computer and let myself sink backward into the chair. In that instant, a soft brush of hair tickled the nape of my neck. The alien sensation—something I never would have experienced as a man—drew an involuntary snort of laughter out of me.

Come to think of it, had it already been more than two months?

When I got my first period, my head was a complete mess. People really are adaptable animals.

The gender change had definitely been a shock. Living nearly thirty years as one sex and then flipping overnight was an event no one could deny was enormous. Yet I’d adapted faster than expected, and the aftershocks had been small. I barely left the house, so there were almost no moments that forced me to feel the difference. Anything I needed, I ordered online and that was that. My only outing was the weekly vocal training session two bus stops away—nothing worth fretting over. Slap on a deep-brimmed hat, dab on whatever skin cream and lotion I had at home. Oh, and sunscreen. Outfit: the most comfortable training clothes in my closet, and I was good. Living like that, the only things that truly registered as “female” were periods and underwear. Periods I couldn’t control, so they were force majeure. Underwear I had no choice but to surrender to—without it, the size and weight made my chest hurt every time it bounced. Beyond that, life was barely different from when I’d been a man. And so, three months into being a woman… I was making a smooth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soft landing.

Speaking of which, it’s about time Pan-beo-gal should be popping up. Wonder if Ju-ttak’s still the same?

Thinking about gender naturally dragged Ju-ttak—the Pan-beo-gal admin who’d done this to me—into my mind. Was he still running the board? Maybe, because of the “match” he’d promised “me,” he was keeping his head down. Either way, my job was clear: turn Lucy and myself into successful virtual streamers. I hadn’t set a precise success metric, so it was a little fuzzy, but I had a rough idea. Ju-ttak and I went way back; we’d talked virtual streaming for ages and debated it often. The bar he’d set for a “successful virtual streamer” back then had been pretty high.

To hit that bar, this audition is critical.

The plan was ready. But no one ever knows how the world will turn. Already, plenty of things had diverged from the pre-regression audition I remembered. Just the contestant list alone had grown by two—me and Lucy. For all I knew, the butterfly effect was already sending someone else to hit the apply button right this second.

“Haa…”

Variables stacked on variables stacked on variables. The more I thought, the more my head ached. When you rest, you’re supposed to rest properly, yet the to-do list never shrank.

No choice. Time to break out the secret weapon I’ve been saving…

The next morning I got up early, made myself presentable, sat down at the computer, and wrote a notice.

“Perfect. That bought me a day.”

Lately I’d been running so hard that the urge to take a day off had been hitting me constantly. But truthfully, that wasn’t the only reason I’d chosen to go dark. The Wooga-dol audition was only five days away, and it was time for the final checks: the prep status of the VRC maps tied to the content I’d already planned, the final evaluation of the two songs I’d perform at the audition, and—through this day off—voice rest and health management. This week’s regular off day was Friday, the day right before the audition, so I’d have no choice but to stream then. I had to snatch at least one day of rest somehow.

Hmm? Calling this a “trick” and saying it has nothing to do with diligence?

Anyone who said that had clearly never held a real job. There was a reason the military always told you to aim for the middle. Combine talent and diligence and you just become the admin NCO’s slave; the same pattern showed up all the time in companies. In the end, getting by in the world required a little know-how. Right now the audition was the single most important thing, so a minor detour was a price I had to pay…

It was truly right on the doorstep now.