Which Group Am I In?

October 12th.

A nuclear bomb dropped on Pangea TV.

At last, the list of Wooga-dol audition applicants had been made public.

The moment the notice went up, the armchair Conans sprang into action.

The kind of people who spend all day in their rooms scratching their bellies, digging through search results. Put that way, they sound pathetic — but these were, surprisingly, genuine experts in their field.

An overwhelming flood of data poured out in real time, drowning the communities.

Did this streamer have a past life? A previous career? Had they ever caused an incident or stirred up trouble? Checking broadcast history, YouTube, and Rabbit TV channels was the bare minimum. The deeper diggers went after personal SNS accounts, used Google to hunt down game IDs, scoured match histories — and ultimately set their sights on the final fortress of any virtual streamer: the Red Pill.

Watching that public frenzy, I swallowed a bitter smile.

Looking at it now, it all seemed like a ridiculous waste of energy — but throughout this entire audition period, the armchair Conans would put on a spectacular show.

During the audition, a song even became a meme because of them.

That was the lyric from Detective Conan's first opening theme. It became a meme after the sensitive intel the armchair Conans dumped every dawn forced several contestants to drop out of the audition one after another.

It meant that every morning, when you woke up and checked the community boards, some new incident had already exploded.

And as the audition progressed, the masquerade games ran rampant too.

Something like this, for example.

Five people would be chosen for Wooga-dol. Someone would post a thread:

They'd casually promote the members they were pushing, and mercilessly downvote-bomb any post supporting rival candidates. They didn't even hesitate to manipulate public opinion.

Viewers who had overinvested in the virtual streamers migrating over were starting to multiply.

That process itself was the stage where casual viewers transformed into dedicated fans.

In a way, this might be the most critical period of all.

Looking at the virtual scene on Pangea TV, several more major opportunities would come along later. You could catch spillover from big-agency streamers on the large stages, and there were plenty of places to build name recognition.

But in a sense, all of that was just a sweet, fleeting dream that passed you by.

People who rode the spillover and held an average of over a thousand concurrent viewers for the entire duration of a big server. The moment the server ended and their contact with the big-agency streamer feeding them viewers dried up, they shriveled up overnight.

Not that spillover was a bad thing. While you were receiving it, viewership spiked and your recognition grew dramatically. And with more viewers came the sweet Candy donations. Some streamers got so hooked on that sweetness that they spent their whole careers chasing spillover from one collab to the next.

Spillover is nice. But you have to remember you're receiving it from someone else. An illusion that can vanish at any moment. What matters most isn't what someone else gave you — it's what you built yourself.

Compare a thousand viewers manufactured from spillover and casual traffic against a hundred dedicated fans stacked up brick by brick. Even with a tenfold difference in numbers, I'd rate the latter as far more valuable.

Ideally you'd catch both rabbits, of course. But that's insanely hard.

So I'd make absolutely sure to catch at least one.

I believed the Wooga-dol audition period would be a golden opportunity to build a dedicated fanbase.

This wasn't mere speculation. A significant number of the 720p virtual streamers had, in fact, established their core viewer bases during this exact window.

The driving force behind that was simple: the existence of the Wooga-dol audition itself.

An audition was fundamentally different from ordinary content in terms of immersion. A survival structure where no one except the final five could make it out alive. The constant tension and anxiety that your "pick" might get eliminated at any moment. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dopamine rush every time they won and survived among countless competitors. All of it was designed to make people overinvest in the audition as content.

The deeper the immersion, the more sincere the viewers become.

That was why I judged the Wooga-dol audition to be the optimal window for locking in dedicated fans.

And one more reason: the people watching Wooga-dol right now were, at baseline, virtual streamer enthusiasts with a "pro-virtual" leaning. That made them relatively easy to convert into regulars and lock in as dedicated fans.

By contrast, the audiences for the major content events that came later were mostly fans of big-agency streamers and casual floaters. Among them were a surprising number of people who actively disliked and rejected no-cam ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠style broadcasts — so building a dedicated fanbase at that stage meant walking a road of pure suffering.

This is the advantage of knowing the future.

Everything has its season.

I passed all of these plans and pieces of advice on to Lucy without holding anything back.

"Okay. I'll get ready properly too."

Was it because of me sticking to her every day, managing her mental state? Digging through my pre-regression memories, she seemed a bit brighter compared to how she'd been at this point originally.

Originally, she would have been stuck on Rabbit TV as a Dullahan, grinding out solo streams alone. Now she had a short-term goal and had gone through some fresh collab content — it looked like she'd found some energy.

Was this why mothers smacked their sons on the back for sitting in front of a computer in their rooms all day and nagged them to go outside?

With a satisfied smile, I scanned Ssa-yo's notice one more time.

It said order adjustments were possible if you inquired, so a more strategic approach was needed.

I'm in Group A, so Saturday the 15th… not bad. Saturdays pull better viewer numbers than Sundays, after all. And if you're going to try something, going first can give it a fresher impact.

I slowly sketched out the picture in my head.

How could I draw more attention and interest? At the same time, anything too blatant or excessive would plant an unlikable image in the viewers' minds, so I had to hold back.

My thoughts were deepening when — wait.

I blinked at a familiar nickname in Group A's roster.

"Why is Miho in this…?"

I double-checked in case it was a streamer with a similar name, but it was definitely Miho.

She definitely hadn't participated in the Wooga-dol audition before the regression.

Could this also be a butterfly effect caused by my existence?

The only thing that changed was her joining the immigration screening content. So is this really because of me?

My head grew another layer more complicated. From the position of someone who knew the future, more variables were not welcome.

I let out a short sigh.

But what had already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠happened couldn't be undone.

Miho's participation in the Wooga-dol audition.

What kind of storm would this turn into when it finally hit?

Countless thoughts crossed through my mind.