Music Broadcast

"It's here."

"Th-the package?"

"Over there."

I followed the tip of my little sister's finger and spotted the delivery box. I was about to dive for it and snatch it up—then I stopped short. The thing was bigger than I'd expected. I checked the shipping label first.

Recipient: Kim Do-yoon. Sender… Han So-yeong?

Huh?

Not a company name—it'd been sent under Han So-yeong's personal name. She'd said Story Lab, right? Jeong Min-ji?

I looked the box over more carefully. The tape was sloppy. It hung loose, with marks that suggested someone had already pried it open.

"You opened it?"

"No, I mean. Just…"

No point in her hemming and hawing. Of course she'd opened it—that was the only way she'd know. I'd ordered packages before. She had never once torn one open. So why this time?

Because I'd been caught going outside twice? That was the only reason her behavior would change. She must have been curious. Still—opening someone else's mail?

Even as she got older, my little sister remained a creature closer to a wild animal than a human being.

I opened the box. On top of the frozen packaging sat something like a slip of paper.

Just that one line. Fortunately, neither Yeong-il nor A-il appeared anywhere. The recipient was listed under my real name, too—probably Han So-yeong looking out for me.

"Oh, beef."

"…"

My sister's eyes lit up.

"Looks expensive just from looking at it. Why? For you, Oppa? What kind of relationship is this? Is this some weird person?"

"…"

What was I supposed to say? Anyone watching would have found my silence suspicious, but I couldn't help it. We hadn't had much contact over the past six years, but the temperament I caught glimpses of hadn't changed a bit.

She always had a loose tongue.

Even as a kid, tell her one thing and she turned into a loudspeaker for the whole neighborhood. Could I even hide this? Follow the trail from Story Lab to Jeong Min-ji to the web drama, and connecting it to A-il would be easy. And of all days, my regular speaking voice had gone public yesterday. The second she found that out, it was over.

Right. A-il was a temporary alias anyway. I'd throw her this bone and be done with it.

"Someone I know introduced me, and I helped out with a quick feature."

"Hmm? A song? But you actually know people, Oppa? You sure?"

"Ugh… I do have people I know, at least."

Lying to family was never easy.

"Huum… Fine, I guess that could happen. What's the song called?"

"Spotlight."

"Spotlight, Spotlight—oh, this one. Kurogami Yui… Japanese? And… featuring A-il. Oh! That's real—this voice is totally you, Oppa."

Watching my little sister look up and listen to my song made my skin crawl; I could barely breathe. If I asked Mom and Dad to keep it quiet, would they? The second they heard I'd stood in front of people again, they'd worry themselves sick. I still wanted to keep it hidden. I'd tell them when the time was right.

"Don't tell Mom and Dad."

"Huh? Why?"

"If I say don't, then don't."

"Huum? Just like that, for free?"

Ugh. I wanted to give her a knuckle to the head. Were all little sisters like this?

"This adorable little sister you wouldn't mind putting in your eye~ is about to graduate, and sadly, sob sob. Did you know the only clothes she owns are her school uniform?"

"…"

And what was I supposed to do about that.

"Aaaah, is there no big brother out there who might spare some allowance~"

"…How much do you need."

"Whoa, I was just poking around—you actually made money?"

"…"

Demon. Family-registry roommate… I chewed the insults and swallowed them. After some thought, I decided to lock the secret down properly and show her the dignity of the firstborn. Three hundred thousand won. I was not spending more than company gift money on this little blackmailer.

"Uh-uh? Th-that's kind of a lot? Anyway, thank you, dear older brother."

"…It's a graduation present. Keep your mouth shut."

"Yes, yes."

I was heading back to my room when the little menace stopped me.

"What about the beef?"

"Make up some excuse."

"Huh? Don't wanna. Extra charge!"

She stuck one hand straight out in a shameless pay-up gesture. I stared at her in disbelief.

"Kidding, kidding~ I'll handle it myself~ Look at your face, haha."

Ugh. Annoying.

"Looking forward to your future activities~ Fighting!"

My sister twitched the corner of her mouth in the most irritating way and waved lazily as she left. I was not going to be active. I suppressed the urge to flip her off and went back to my room.

Still. It had been a long time since I'd had a normal conversation with my sister. I couldn't even remember how many years.

M Town headquarters. Content Planning Team meeting room.

The major broadcasters running music shows came down to four: the three terrestrial networks, plus the cable channel M Town. There had been a time when M Town crushed the terrestrial three.

"It's bleak. The ratings gap is over tenfold."

"…Forget that. What about the YouTube views?"

"Based on Floa's comeback video from last week, roughly double the difference."

"Ha…"

Team Leader Jang Seok-hyeon clicked his tongue, and the air in the meeting room grew steadily colder. M Town was in freefall so steep it made a mockery of the era when it had led the front lines of the music industry. Innovative concepts, production that outclassed terrestrial TV, and a willingness to take on both mainstream and underground acts without discrimination. As the years passed, upper management had grown more conservative, and that identity had become a relic. As the show faded into just another music program, public interest drifted further away. By the time anyone thought oh no, it was already too late—and now the planning team alone was being wrung dry in a belated scramble.

"You tied our hands and feet when it suited you! And now what the hell do you want us to do?!"

Even exploding in front of his staff did nothing to ease the frustration.

"Ugh… Is next week's stage lineup finalized?"

"Applications came up a little short, so we're still booking. But it's year-end, so we're short on big-name groups."

"That's true for every other network too. Nothing we can do."

Jang Seok-hyeon scratched his head and scanned the charts.

Let's see. Any fresh faces?

The cut-off was thirtieth place. Below that, the credentials were thin, and middling firepower rarely made headlines anyway.

"Huh? What's this—an OST? Why did this jump sixteen spots? Twenty-second?"

"Ah, Spotlight? The song was good, so I looked it up—turns out Yeong-il wrote it. But it's VTubers, so we cut it."

"VTubers…"

There was already a thoroughly unconventional artist holding long-term real estate on the charts: virtual streamer Lunari. Ninth with Blackout Cat, twelfth with Delivery Food, nineteenth with Broken Clock, thirty-first with This Is All I Am. If she'd been an ordinary singer, those numbers would have had her knocking on music-show doors long ago. But a VTuber on a music broadcast? There was no precedent. Her agency hadn't requested it, and the stodgy terrestrial three almost certainly hadn't bothered reaching out either.

…What if an appearance were possible? Wouldn't that make news?

"What if we ask her to come out in sunglasses and a mask?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, look—she's putting out this many songs. She must care about the attention at least a little."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Uh… Team Leader. I say this because you don't really know the scene, but for VTubers, external exposure is basically suicide."

"Why? This could be an opportunity."

One of the younger staff carefully walked him through it.

"Their main job is internet streaming, so they have no reason to smash their own mystique for a gamble like this. And if they were going to show their face and work as celebrities in the first place, they wouldn't have become VTubers, would they? They'd be running the audition circuit."

"Is that so? If they go on TV because they sing well, wouldn't the fans be even prouder?"

More extreme ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠examples poured out for the team leader who still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't get it.

"Look—fans build an image from the avatar and the voice, right? Mostly a positive one. Now imagine a frumpy, overweight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠middle-aged woman walks onto the screen. Are they really just going to feel proud?"

"Ah."

"In any form, the odds of someone appearing who looks better than the fantasy are basically zero."

"Tsk… Shame."

It had been a rare good idea. Jang Seok-hyeon scratched his beard, deep in thought, when the same staffer spoke up carefully.

"Team Leader, if you want to put a VTuber on stage, what about filming a performance inside a virtual space?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Take a look at this."

The suspiciously VTuber-fluent team member pulled up a clip of Yui and Lunari's mocap collab stream.

"This one is Lunari, and this is Kurogami Yui, who sang that OST. See? This is actual motion. Incredibly smooth, right? At this level, a stage shouldn't be a problem."

"Hmm."

It really does look like they're moving. That's not animation—that's a person?

Not a VTuber walking out in sunglasses—bringing the virtual space itself onto the show.

Upper management is going to lose their minds.

Might as well cause one scene. After all the daily pressure to deliver results, they couldn't complain. Unprecedented, sure—but somehow the hunch felt good.

"Music show appearance. Contact Lunari's agency. Blackout Cat is the main track, right? Use that."

"Ohhh, yes sir!"

"With a chart lineup like that, she's more than qualified. We'll have to discuss how we can actually stage it."

"I'll get on it right away!"

The staffer who'd been giving the brief VTuber primer bolted out, fired up.

"Why's that kid so full of energy?"

"No idea."

A blue wolf plush keychain hung from that employee's bag.

Han So-yeong had just wrapped the last interview of the day and returned to the office.

Once the hiring is done, maybe I'll finally get some breathing room.

She was about to catch her breath when the phone rang, as if to declare that rest had no place in her life.

"…"

A direct call meant something urgent. Han So-yeong allowed herself only the five rings of the ringtone as rest, then picked up.

"Excuse me?"

As she calmly listened to their explanation, a strange sense of arrival washed over her.

Wow. This finally feels like entertainment.

A call from a music-show PD, of all things. They wanted to know whether Lunari would be willing to appear on M Town's music broadcast to perform Blackout Cat—and whether a stage could be built not in reality, but in a virtual space.

"We're already contracted with a VR motion-capture company, so the filming itself isn't a problem. If you can cover the cost of building the VR map, that would work."

But time was short; full choreography was out of the question.

"If we put more focus on the direction and keep the choreography as simple as possible, we should be able to hit the deadline. I'll consult with the artist and get back to you."

"Ah… yes. Understood."

Setting down M Town's rather clingy phone call, Han So-yeong let her imagination run.

A new song? Yeong-il's next track is probably… that chaotic one. Eumnya, was it?

That, in front of the general public? Could they handle the reaction? Wouldn't they get torn apart? Even if they could promote a new song on a music show, better to skip the next one.

Han So-yeong shook her head hard. That was still a long way off. First priority was talking to Lunari about whether to take the music-show stage at all.

She was about to contact Yu Nari when the company phone rang again. What day was this.

"Hello, Muse Family."

"Pardon? Ah, no. I'll check it now."

Interviews since morning had left no room to check email on top of everything else. And of course contact had to come in the middle of it. She hurried to the message; the contents were simple.

A notice that they'd been nominated for the Mellow Music Awards.

Attendance availability, they say.

As if. Every last one of them was a VTuber, and the composer was a pathologically shy shut-in boy. Was it because of year-end? Why was the workload exploding like this.

Even once they hired staff, the people who could handle inquiries this important wouldn't be walking through the door tomorrow. She couldn't trust useless Park Gi-dong with it. Anyone around who could help? Of course not. She'd have to do it herself.

"Heh heh heh heh heh."

Han So-yeong completely lost it.