Something Feels Off About Her Inability to Sing (3)
Three days after the third-generation meeting, it was a Thursday. Late that evening, after finishing my solo stream, I collapsed weakly onto my bed. I picked up my smartphone, posted on SNS about how much fun today had been, and then found myself staring blankly at the weather forecast mixed in with the post, muttering to myself.
“Whoa, it’s raining tomorrow? The weather’s kinda crappy too…”
The sigh that slipped out carried a complicated tangle of emotions. The reason was obvious. The third-gen collab stream was now right on top of us. And of all things, it was a singing stream—the very content I’d been avoiding until now.
I set my phone down, shifted position, and stared up at the ceiling, brows furrowed in thought.
Has Serin… actually become able to sing again?
Logically, that had to be the case. No one had forced her; she’d been the one to suggest it first. Something about the singing she’d refused for so long must have changed.
…No, something had to have changed. The announcement had already gone out. There was no turning back now. I had no choice but to believe it… or so I told myself.
“…Yeah. I feel bad for Airi. And for Karen, and the rest of the members too.”
Maybe it was because I kept remembering how unusually downcast Serin had looked that day. An uneasy, suffocating feeling lingered in a corner of my chest and refused to leave. I still had no idea why she’d stopped singing in the first place. And now, out of nowhere, she was volunteering to do it. The questions kept piling up until they became one giant question mark.
“Maybe I should send her a message…”
Unable to shake the unsettled feeling, I rolled around on the bed before grabbing my phone. I opened my private chat with Priya, hesitated for a long moment, then typed out a short message.
Kgh, was that really the best I could do?! I despaired at my own terrible communication skills. I hardly ever message first, and I usually just reply to whatever comes in, so of course it felt awkward. I couldn’t help it.
I wasn’t exactly in a bad mood, but even as I stared at the screen with a strangely tense heart, no reply came. Of course she wasn’t glued to her phone twenty-four seven. Still, I felt embarrassed.
She’s not just reading it and ignoring me… right? We were chatting normally this morning.
I let out a sigh. Why am I worrying about someone else? It’s not like I’m in any position to be worrying about people.
With that thought, I placed the phone on my chest and slowly closed my eyes. I was starting to feel drained and sleepy… As my consciousness began to drift away on the incoming tide of drowsiness, a sudden vibration against my chest snapped me wide awake.
Startled, I quickly lifted the phone to my face. The source of the vibration wasn’t a message—it was a call. And the one calling was Serin.
If she was going to reply, a message would’ve been fine… Feeling a little burdened, I reluctantly accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear.
“H-hello…”
“Good evening, Seolhwa. It’s rare for you to message first. Were you bored?”
“No, well… I guess you could see it that way.”
I couldn’t exactly say I was testing the waters because I was curious about the real reason behind your sudden decision to do a singing collab. So I gave her a vague answer. She let out a small laugh and said, “I see,” then dropped something that caught me completely off guard.
“It’s about tomorrow’s collab stream, isn’t it?”
“Nyahut, what?! N-no it’s not?!”
“It’s fine. I’m not upset at all. If anything, I’m really happy you were worried about me.”
“Kgh… Why would I… be worried about you…”
My inner thoughts had been seen through completely. I denied her words with every ounce of strength I had. Admitting outright that I’d been worried felt like losing somehow. But I had already fallen into Serin’s pace. As my face burned and I chewed on my lip, I heard what sounded like a soft, wry laugh from the other side of the speaker.
“Obviously I already knew about my own issue. The boss is sharp. Three days after debut he asked me about it directly. He said, ‘You can’t sing, can you?’ I was genuinely surprised.”
“The boss…”
Heh… hehehe… It had taken me a whole week to notice, yet the boss had figured out Serin’s problem almost immediately. The fact that there still hadn’t been any improvement meant it was a pretty complicated issue.
The atmosphere had grown serious, and the heat in my face cooled. I listened quietly as Serin continued.
“This is a problem that happened for my own personal reasons, so I feel bad that it’s causing trouble for the company and my coworkers. I tried to overcome it in my own way… but in the end, it’s all thanks to you, Seolhwa.”
“Huh…? M-me?”
“Because you hugged me that day. It made me want to take a step forward even though I thought I never could. All that hesitation for a whole month, solved with one hug. Maybe I’m simpler than I thought.”
“R-really? I see…”
It seemed Serin was aware of why she couldn’t sing, but she didn’t want to talk about the reason itself. Not that she was obligated to. Still, it was hard to know how to respond. Even if she said I was the reason she could overcome it, all I’d done was hug her once. Feeling awkward, I scratched my cheek and answered somewhat clumsily.
“I don’t really get it, but… it’s solved, right? The hug was a little embarrassing, but I’m glad it helped.”
“Yeah. I’ll do my best. I’m thinking of this as my last chance…”
Last chance? I tilted my head at the strange weight behind Serin’s words. Before I could ask, she changed the subject. The small doubt that had formed was quietly tucked away in my heart, and before long I had completely forgotten about it.
Sync House. It was a group performance program that let you play instruments or sing together online in real time. Someone might ask why we didn’t just use Buscode, the voice chat app we already relied on, but the problem was latency. On average it took about 0.1 seconds, sometimes up to 0.5 seconds, for sound to convert into digital signals. And since that delay happened every time sound was sent and received… singing together live on Buscode was realistically impossible.
But Sync House had been designed with ensemble performance in mind from the start—its average latency was just 0.02 seconds! Depending on the equipment there could be slight variation, but that was close enough to feel simultaneous.
Still, it requires expensive audio interface equipment and is heavily affected by internet conditions. Even if you prepare everything in advance, problems can still pop up…
Well, it couldn’t be helped. Communication is a delicate field that can fall apart with just one thick wall in the way. Sending high-quality audio across long distances with zero error was incredibly difficult. So whenever we used Sync House, we had to be ready to get screwed at any moment. The viewers understood that too. It wasn’t something we could fully prevent.
Even so, we still had to do everything we could to lower the chances of failure. Our job as VTubers wasn’t just to hang out together—it was to put on a broadcast. The boss’s favorite phrase was: “Always make sure the viewers can enjoy themselves.”
“Ah, can you hear my voice?”
“Yeah, I hear you. But it’s a little quiet. Can you raise it a bit?”
“Aaaaa~”
“Ah, that’s perfect now.”
All five third-gen members had gathered long before the stream to check our settings. Thankfully, none of us had any major issues with our equipment or configuration. No annoying noise, no internet problems. The test MR we played also came through clearly for everyone.
“Then let’s do a test broadcast to make sure. Even if it looks fine now, there might be conflicts with the streaming software. Manager, could you join as a viewer and check the audio for us?”
“Sure.”
The usual playful atmosphere had vanished. Airi’s voice was low and deadly serious. She gave off a surprising amount of charisma. I’d never really felt like she was older than me before, but right now she seemed like a completely reliable adult. It was cool.
“Alright then… shall we sing ‘Baekgwi Yahang’ once? We only performed it once after debut, right?”
“Should we each take our own parts?”
“Yeah. That way if something goes wrong we’ll know whose line it was immediately.”
Airi suggested we sing the third-gen group’s original song for the test. We performed each of our assigned parts without a single mistake, flowing naturally through the song. We’d practiced for nearly six months to record this, after all. If we hadn’t gotten used to it, that would’ve been the real problem.
“Smile, cry, go crazy with us—!”
The surprising part was Serin’s section. She was in charge of the high-note climax, and she sang so skillfully it was hard to believe she’d been unable to sing at all. I didn’t think I could ever imitate that sound no matter how hard I practiced for the rest of my life. Maybe it was because the gap in skill was simply too vast, but I didn’t even feel jealous. A fish swimming in a river has no reason to envy a bird flying in the sky.
I simply marveled at her clear, soaring high notes that seemed to climb forever.
What the heck, she’s amazing. I worried for nothing.
The chances were low since the broadcast was going smoothly, but I’d been afraid there might be something wrong with her throat. Yet the voice I heard through my earphones sounded completely fine. So all that was left was to bring it out during the real thing…
The tension drained from my shoulders. The moment the song ended, I clapped loudly and raised the mood.
“That was great! Awesome, seriously awesome!”
“Yeah. Everyone’s voice sounds good today. Especially Ria! I was shocked—what was that high note?!”
“As expected of Baekgwi Yahang’s singing queen!”
“You’re so good at this…”
The manager who had checked the test broadcast said the audio was clean too. The mood couldn’t have been better. Serin, showered with praise, answered in a refreshed tone.
“Thanks. I got some really passionate cheering from someone yesterday, so I put in a bit more effort than usual.”
“Ugh…”
“Cheering? Ohhh.”
“Hmm~”
“Oh my…”
Why would you bring up something so unnecessary?! And everyone clearly understood what she meant! Overwhelmed with embarrassment, I lost the ability to speak and silently cursed Serin in my heart.
The test seemed to be enough. Airi said we’d meet up again when the actual stream started, and we scattered for a while to handle our own tasks. Several hours later, we gathered once more in the private Sync House room Airi had created. Today’s stream would only be hosted through Airi’s channel, so we didn’t need to turn on our own broadcasts.
“Hello everyone! We are Unimori’s third-generation VTubers, Baekgwi Yahang! The rabbit from the moon, Airi, has arrived!”
With Airi’s now-familiar greeting, the rest of us introduced ourselves using the signature lines we’d each settled on. Even though we were close genmates, it was still the period when new viewers might join. Matching voices, faces, and names was basic internet broadcasting etiquette.
“Then, as we mentioned last time, we’ll be doing a singing stream today! Please don’t take it too seriously—just enjoy it like we all went to karaoke together! We’ll jump right in! Journey of U&I!”
No need for long explanations. Just listen to our song! Airi declared it boldly and immediately started the MR.
Since we’d already decided who would sing which parts, I took the first turn. With my throat properly warmed up, I delivered the lyrics at the perfect timing. I couldn’t hit refreshing high notes and my range was narrow, but I had good rhythm. I was genuinely grateful to Airi for choosing a song that suited me.
“…Fly away~”
“Uwahaha! Snow, you’re really good!”
“Ahaha, it’s all thanks to Airi’s song choice.”
After finishing the first song together with Airi, the second was a duet between Priya and Shura. It was finally Serin’s turn. She’d probably do great, but… I held some water in my mouth, nervous, when suddenly—
A faint, ominous crackle reached my ears.
Noise…? At this timing?!
I hoped I’d misheard and tried to focus on the song that should have continued. But the problem really had chosen this exact moment. When Serin’s turn came, no voice came out at all.
The uncomfortable feeling was obviously shared by the viewers. The chat instantly flooded with question marks and confusion. Everything had been fine during rehearsal—why did it have to break now, of all times? At least troll the stream in moderation!
As I unconsciously clenched my fist, a faint voice reached my ear.
“…Ah.”
“…!”
It was as fragile as a glass bead that would shatter if touched. The moment I heard it, I immediately understood the cause. This wasn’t a connection issue. It was something that had been tormenting her all this time, still holding her back.
She might have convinced herself she’d be fine, but the truth was she still couldn’t sing. In the midst of everyone freezing in panic, I was the first to regain my senses. I quickly sent Airi a message.
Airi was the host of this private Sync House room. She could make it look like either a connection error or a forced disconnect. She must have understood what my message meant. Her virtual avatar moved to cleverly hide the settings window, then swiftly removed the silent Serin while shouting as if she had no idea what was happening.
“Ah, Sync House, not again?! Nooo! Ria, come baaaaack!”
“Figures the weather was bad today…”
I played along with Airi’s dramatic wail—which would sound like we’d simply been trolled to anyone who didn’t know better—while carefully typing a message to Serin without making any keyboard noise. I was the one who asked Airi to remove you. So come back once you’ve calmed down. The message was a bit messy, but that was the general idea.
While Karen quickly filled Serin’s empty spot and kept the stream going, a message finally returned after a long silence.
I had no idea what emotions lay behind those two short words. I quietly clenched my teeth and forced my feelings down. There were still so many viewers watching. I absolutely could not let anything show. I desperately pretended that my heavy heart was completely fine.
“Ah… I just contacted Ria and she says her home internet suddenly cut out. Sigh… We rehearsed for two whole hours. What terrible luck…”
“Can’t be helped. We’ll just have to continue without her for now.”
“W-what do we do? Baekgwi Yahang doesn’t have anyone to hit the high notes if Ria’s gone!”
“No choice then. Let’s pinch Airi’s thighs until she screams out the high notes!”
“Whaaat?! Why me?!”
Karen and Shura must have caught on late. They acted like it was no big deal, just bad luck, and smoothly moved the show along. The viewers who had been confused by Priya’s sudden disappearance soon calmed down too. They seemed to accept it as a simple unfortunate accident—internet outages happen.
I had told her to come back once she calmed down, but Serin never returned for the rest of the stream. Just like the sky outside that had darkened under the steady rain, an unknown anxiety pressed coldly down on my shoulders.