Who Are You?
After the 32-strong round ended, he reopened Luna-ri's channel. [Current Followers: 2,219]
"...Oh."
It had been in the 400s before the 32-strong even started. It had jumped several times over in just one match. The chat window felt different too. Before the tournament, it was mostly casual onlookers, but now the vibe had shifted. They weren't full fans yet, but people were starting to hit follow and settle in.
He opened the LINK community tab.
Watching all this... it stirred up some emotion that was hard to pin down. Fear? Pride? Maybe the tension was rubbing off on him too.
He checked the piling messages and started typing replies.
It was true—she'd been better than practice. The live stage brought her alive in a way rehearsals didn't. The nerves had added density to her voice. They said some people were born for competitions, and Luna-ri seemed to be one.
He pondered briefly, then answered honestly.
"..."
Why was someone broadcasting replying so fast? Don't you have work?
The 32-strong wrapped up before they knew it.
With the third Top 16 match approaching, LINK's official broadcast viewer count was climbing toward its peak. The clash between popular, skilled Baek-ah and unknown powerhouse Luna-ri was billed as the most intriguing matchup of the round.
Some users argued Baek-ah's 40k followers gave her the edge via viewer votes, but with Luna-ri's viewers surpassing 1,300, her momentum was no joke. Followers were just followers, after all. Baek-ah's own stream hovered around 3,000 live viewers, so fan votes wouldn't be decisive.
The chat was flying.
Riding the wave of anticipation, the Top 16 Match 3 began. Baek-ah went first.
Leading off, Baek-ah chose an indie-style acoustic ballad. From the first verse, it hooked the ears. No frills. Every breath, every note's tail was smooth. Without overexerting, she followed the melody naturally.
Shin Se-young crossed her arms in the judge's seat and closed her eyes.
Just as I thought.
She'd felt it in the 32-strong too—Baek-ah was complete. Unshakable stability on any stage. That rare ability to convey emotion through sheer comfort. She delivered a solid performance in the Top 16 as well. At the end, her avatar—somehow forlorn, perfectly suiting her style—bowed quietly, and the chat erupted in cheers.
Shin Se-young jotted briefly on her notepad: Flawless execution. Emotion conveyed masterfully. This match won't be easy.
The screen switched to Luna-ri's stream.
When she'd heard Luna-ri's Summer Sea, Shin Se-young had gotten chills. She knew the vocals were good, but the backing track lingered in her mind. The way it dismantled the original. Whether the vocals fit the track or the track fit the vocals, the harmony was undeniably real. Rare even in pro productions.
So the Top 16 had her curious. Same approach? Or a new direction?
She focused on Luna-ri's mouth, expectations high.
[Ahem, it's Luna-ri! This time, I'll sing "Graduation" by Prism Tree.]
A quick greeting, then the backing started. Shin Se-young's eyes narrowed slightly.
Piano.
Summer Sea had opened acoustic guitar; this was piano. Thin and warm, no flashy chords. One note at a time, slow, like leaving footprints.
Then Luna-ri sang.
[In front of that bridge we walked together— I stood for so long—]
[You waving as you turned away— I took it all in—]
No forced emotion. She relaxed, relaxed more. Yet something filled the space.
Shin Se-young set her notepad down unconsciously.
[I'll miss you— from now on— hope you do even better—]
These lyrics.
She knew them, knew the song. But this wasn't the Graduation she knew. No youthful blessing for friends' futures—this was a deep, profound farewell. The bitter resolve of wanting to hold on but letting go, soaked into every line.
The arrangement deepened it. The original was bright, energetic tropical house. This was something else. Rhythm stripped, harmony simplified, space maximized for Luna-ri's voice. Not the track supporting the song—the song standing alone atop the track.
[Take care— take care— we'll be happy.]
The final line flowed out. Luna-ri's voice cut the note short, like dropping it to the floor. The most honest goodbye.
The song ended, and Shin Se-young smiled with intrigue and admiration. The chat rippled.
Shin Se-young picked up her notepad again. But what to write? She started on vocals, ended up on arrangement. Switched to arrangement, veered into Luna-ri's interpretation. They were too intertwined. Inseparable. Perfect harmony, just like the 32-strong.
So she was convinced.
Ah, she arranged and sang it herself.
No one knows their own work better. Like most singer-songwriters.
Genius. What a talent—too good for just VTubing.
Admiration time over, the harsh world of competition resumed. While pro Shin Se-young judged swiftly, Lilié's deep deliberation dragged out the results longer than any other stage. Heart over head, her dilemma ached. Baek-ah's polish was top-tier too. Technique and stability favored Baek-ah to many, but both delivered thick emotion— to lay eyes, both just great.
"Ughhh...! Fine! Decided!"
Lilié's choice made, votes tallied, MC Kim Hyun-dong's announcement boomed.
Top 16 Match 3 Winner: Luna-ri!!
(Shin Se-young: Luna-ri Win)
(Lilié: Luna-ri Win)
(Viewer Vote: 62% Luna-ri Win)
Baek-ah performed first; Luna-ri last. Order helped, sure. But sweeping all three votes? Graduation had burrowed deeper into hearts.
Top 16 done, winner interviews began. MC Kim Hyun-dong video-called Luna-ri's stream.
The MC smoothly passed the mic to Shin Se-young.
Shin Se-young had already pegged Luna-ri as self-arranger, so she asked about intent naturally.
Luna-ri stammered, dropping an unexpected bombshell.
Someone else? Who? The industry's small— a few connections, you know everyone. Especially talent like this. For an idol board tourney, VTuber-exclusive? Had to be a VTuber fan like her.
Shin Se-young's eyes gleamed brighter.