Principle 1: Don't Brew Yuksu
The three-day streaming ban had turned out to be a remarkably productive stretch of time.
It wasn't enough to iron out every shortcoming in Yu Nari's streams, but it was more than enough to put out the immediate fires and lock in a clear direction.
In the process our enthusiasm had gotten a little carried away, which was how we ended up with a small concert scheduled two weeks out.
I didn't have all that much to prepare myself, so out of sheer conscience I was just pretending to be busy.
But today I was genuinely busy.
It was recording day for Blackout Cat, the track I'd written after watching a thoroughly drunk Yu Nari.
I'd fretted a little that the minor argument we'd had over the name right before the session might throw her off, but those worries proved baseless.
"I like that tremble. Keep it just like that. I'm bumping the key up one."
"Yes...!"
Yu Nari's condition was at its absolute peak.
Even after I raised the key back to the original—after lowering it with her range in mind—the way she stretched out through the chorus was pure perfection.
Looks like her singing was improving too.
Maybe next time I'll write something with zero compromises. Push her right up against her limits.
Lost in those happy thoughts, the first take wrapped and break time arrived.
"The comeback stream today was fine, right? How was it? Give me your review!"
The unban stream.
The aggro had been pulled masterfully, and the tofu mukbang concept had been solid. Planting anticipation with the concert announcement had been a success as well.
"It was good. You've gotten a lot better at batting back chat."
"Whew—practicing is one thing, but the real thing's always harder."
During the suspension Yu Nari had practiced by rewatching her old streams and treating them like live ones.
"Still, it wasn't bad. Getting that smooth back-and-forth like in the drunk stream isn't easy."
"Can we not talk about that……?"
Whenever the drunk mukbang came up, Yu Nari still shriveled into herself.
She hadn't really done anything wrong, so I didn't think she needed to feel so small about it.
"Picking out the fun chats to read was good. And biting on the keywords viewers throw out, like the Toss one I posted today. Once more people gather, the viewers will start tossing fun chats on their own. Until then I'll drop in occasionally."
"You can stay the whole time! English-nim's ID stands out, so it's nice. Easy to spot."
"Is that so? Well, there aren't many English ones. Or maybe it's because I just smash the keys like you said, Nari-nim."
"Ah! So you do hold a grudge. Not being able to name things well is a fact though……"
After three straight days of nonstop contact—just like when we'd been on the phone all day practicing for the song contest—I felt like I'd gotten a bit closer to Yu Nari.
She hadn't liked my advice to change the name at first, half-doubting me, but afterward she'd followed along diligently.
Digging through YouTube for interesting topics to study, making alt accounts on cafes so she could post funny threads to watch together on stream.
Watching her work so hard to become a streamer who could actually bring people joy felt good.
"Is that the end of the review? So everything else was a perfect comeback?"
"Hmm. Try treating the viewers a bit more like friends. Instead of just brushing things off with 'Thank you~', go more 'Hey, that's not it~'. You did that so well when you were drunk. And don't be stingy with the bans."
"That wasn't me……"
"There's still a stiff feeling to it."
"It's hard. Confusing, I guess. Since English-nim said no quasi-dating behavior—no brewing yuksu—I get careful. Is this yuksu behavior? Or friends?"
"Hmm."
The streaming advice I'd given Yu Nari split between what I'd lived through myself and what I'd picked up later watching VTuber streams.
And the precautions that applied to both, I'd hammered home as principles that had to be carried forward no matter what.
The first was a ban on quasi-romantic behavior.
These days they called it brewing yuksu, but past or present I saw it as something that ate away at a stream long-term.
Given the nature of live broadcasts, no matter how hard you tried not to brew yuksu a hundred times over, it ended up getting brewed anyway.
Falling for a person's charm was just that kind of thing—a law of nature.
It wasn't like I'd set out to do quasi-dating with the viewers either.
I'd just streamed ordinarily, completely ordinarily, and the result had been ruin.
It hadn't been my fault at the time, but I had made mistakes.
I'd been young and couldn't read the atmosphere of my own stream.
I knew it felt a bit off, but I didn't know it was bad. I thought all the cooing and fussing was just a good thing.
That had been a truly insane yuksu den.
The failure of management had come to me as a wound and left a scar.
So for Lunari's stream at least, I refused to let that be repeated.
You had to put effort upon effort into making it a friend relationship just to brew less yuksu.
"You have to keep it fun. Laugh together, play together. A structure of enjoying time with the viewers."
"I like that too. I don't want to be fake about it—just talking comfortably like with friends—but I don't know if it's working well."
"If you watch Yui's streams, you can see that structure clearly."
"……Yui-nim's streams…?"
"An ideal stream flow? But since she's cute, yuksu naturally gets brewed, and then there's the banter that shuts it down. Nari-nim should head in this direction—"
Yu Nari cut straight into my words.
"Did English-nim get br-brewed too? Is that why you watch the streams so often…?"
"Don't say weird things."
Me getting brewed? No chance….
"It's the same with other popular streams. I watched Lirrie-nim's streams too—the one who judged at the VBF contest—and ultimately the harmony, the communication, and the jokes with the viewers are what make a stream fun."
Successful people all had their reasons.
No boredom in the streams, you could say.
That charm that made you unable to hold back from typing.
"Looks like you've looked up everything except my streams……"
"Not everything, but I've watched a lot."
Since I'd decided not to hide it anymore, I said it boldly.
"Makes me want to give you a knuckle sandwich. When we meet in person someday, I'll leave a bump for you."
"Uh, um, shall we start recording again?"
"Oh, running away."
I wasn't running away—we'd just chatted too long.
"The engineer and Hye-min-nim's disciple are waiting, so we should get to it soon."
"Hmmm, fine."
A suspicious tone flowed into my ear, but it was really time to get to work.
Shin Se-young spoke to Kim Hye-min, who was sipping her coffee.
"Does the company manage streamer broadcasts too?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"No, it's just that Lunari's stream style suddenly changed…"
As someone who watched internet broadcasts often—especially virtual streamers—Shin Se-young had easily caught the shift in Lunari's style.
"I liked the old style better… quiet and gentle."
"Hmm?"
Looking at Kim Hye-min's wide, blank eyes, it was clear she had nothing to do with it. Maybe Lunari was just changing on her own.
"Unnie, have you ever met Lunari in real life?"
"Yeah. I brought her in myself."
"Really? I never wanted to know the red pill, but I ran into her at the company before. What was that?"
"Aaah, that must've been a shock."
Se-young always frets over stuff like that.
Hye-min dropped another sugar cube into her remaining coffee and kept listening.
"Since Unnie already knows, I'll say it—she's pretty, right? I was so surprised."
"Was she? Yeah, I guess she was."
"Even after learning the red pill it was a shock, but her real face is prettier than the character, so it kind of evened out?"
Ever since the song contest ended, Shin Se-young had been visiting Lunari's stream often.
After schedules wrapped, lying down and listening to that quiet chatter always helped her fall asleep.
It had become one of her favorite streams.
Just as the conversation was about to wander off into the weeds, Se-young hit the brakes.
"Aaah, that wasn't what I meant to talk about. Lunari's doing a VR concert, right?"
"Mm-hmm. Our So-yeong's suffering over it right now. Money's pouring out like crazy~"
"Th-that… could I do it too? I want to stand on stage with Nari-ssi."
"Eeeh?"
When Hye-min stared at her with a face that clearly said You?, Se-young lowered her head.
"I want to try VR too. I'm curious. And she's an artist under Unnie's company anyway."
She's liked VTubers for a long time.
Where else could a singer with a cool public image like Shin Se-young go to make a request like this?
A close unnie who happened to be the company rep. A company singer who happened to be a VTuber.
Only a pile-up of coincidences made it possible.
"Hmm. It's not that hard."
For a younger sister she'd known long and especially well, it was an easy favor.
"Ahem ahem, aaaaah."
Kim Hye-min cleared her throat before making the call.
"Hello?"
"Ah, aaah, So-yeong-ssi. I have something I want to ask. How far along is the Lunari concert prep?"
"Ah, that. Avatar production isn't easy. I've got one creator locked down and I'm grinding them with money, but I don't know if it'll come out on deadline. Aside from that, it's smooth. Why do you ask?"
"Uh, uh, n-nothing major! Could we maybe squeeze Shin Se-young into the concert?"
"……What??"
At the rep's completely casual bomb drop, Han So-yeong's brain started spinning at full speed.
Shin Se-young.
Not a streamer—a singer.
No need to split viewers; she was the ultimate promotional weapon.
But no VR gear, so that had to be bought.
No character, so a simple one had to be commissioned from the creator.
Full redesign of the performance posters already in progress.
Conclusion:
"If we grind hard enough, it should be doable……"
Throw more money and more bodies into the grinder and it was absolutely doable.
The quality of the show would jump massively.
For Lunari's stream to explode, this was an unconditional go.
"Ooooh! A-as expected, So-yeong-ssi is the best! I'll pass it on to Se-young!"
A small smile bloomed on Shin Se-young's face as she waited quietly for the news beside her.
Just as Kim Hye-min was about to hang up, Han So-yeong grabbed her.
"Uh? Aaaaaah! W-wait a second. Rep! Reeeeep!"
"Hm?"
"Ah, no, the timing is just really coincidental."
"Yeah."
"I was about to email the creator after hearing what you said, and a new email had just arrived?"
Thick layers of fluster clung to So-yeong's tone.
"Th-the streamer Kurogami Yui is asking if she can be invited to the concert too? She wants to stand on stage as a guest?"
"Hmmm?"
Why that person?
Kim Hye-min's eyebrow twitched.
"Mm…… So-yeong-ssi, handle it however you see fit! As long as it helps our Nari-ssi, it's good. Heh. F-for now, I'll just take it that Se-young is on the stage!"
She'd figure it out.
Kim Hye-min had hired good staff, so she wasn't worried.
Or maybe she just found it annoying.
"Great! It's done!"
"It's done? Wow, Unnie, thank you! Would a duet be too rushed time-wise? Better to prepare a few solo songs after all, right?"
"Ask her. I'll give you the contact."
"W-would that be okay? Ah, I have to tell the fan cafe too."
What streamer would hate Shin Se-young showing up on stream to sing?
People would pay money to beg for it and still come up short, yet here she was, standing on stage for free and looking that happy…
Hye-min let out a small laugh at Se-young's pure-heartedness.
"Ah, I should've told the company first."
"It's fine. Act first, report later is the trend these days."
I'm good at that, Kim Hye-min said with a smiling squint of her eyes.