The Identity of the New Song
In the waiting room of the motion-capture studio, Yu Nari sat cradling her brand-new smartphone, grinning from ear to ear.
A new phone—the exact same model as Do-yoon’s.
It had taken a full two weeks from order to delivery. She hadn’t been bored, though. She’d spent the entire wait solemnly choosing phone cases.
Something flashy would clash with Do-yoon’s personality; something plain would defeat the whole point. After endless deliberation she settled on soft pink and soft green. Her case soft pink. His soft green. Side by side they became peach and mint.
Carried separately they were just pretty cases. The only person in the world who knew what they meant was Yu Nari herself.
All that agony picking them out was worth it. I wonder if Do-yoon’s gotten his yet?
Couple phones. Every time she looked at hers her expression melted, which was becoming a real problem. She couldn’t go around beaming at random hours, so she consciously reined in the corners of her mouth—yet the warm delight still leaked from every pore of her body, something she herself never noticed.
“Nari-nim, we’re ready to start filming~”
At the staff member’s call she sprang to her feet.
Today was the live motion-capture broadcast. They were filming the content she and Do-yoon had planned together: Challenge! Match the Pitch!
The idea was to satisfy the fans who’d flocked in after the music show with song content, while still delivering the sharp dopamine hit unique to streaming through a series of entertaining punishments.
The rules were simple. One popular chart track would play at random, and Lunari had to sing along in pitch. If the machine detected she was off-key, she failed—and had to spin a roulette for a punishment. Succeed, and Muse Family would hand her a prize.
Do-yoon privately hoped she would fail as often as possible so the human side of Lunari could shine through, but he never told her that. Real reactions were what mattered here.
“Alright, everyone! Let’s get started!”
Lunari’s mood was soaring so high that the energy poured straight into the stream. Her voice sat a full tone higher, her gestures were lively, her reactions rich. Even her singing came out steadier and clearer than usual; failure seemed impossible.
“Wow, I’m ridiculously good today, right? What even is defeat? Heh.”
She sang along with absolute confidence. The pitch judge lit up green the whole way.
Third song. Fourth. Success after success. Viewers hungry for punishments began to grumble, but Lunari just beamed and teased them.
“You want the punishments? You guys are so mean! But too bad~ No chance!”
And then the tenth and final track arrived. Even the last song had been a gentle difficulty, and Lunari was already cooing “Sorry, everyone~” when Han So-yeong, serving as host, made the announcement.
“Success on this mission awards one flat peach.”
“A peach?”
Do-yoon likes pretty much any peach, right? Soft peach, firm peach… I didn’t even know flat peaches were a thing. Gotta ask him later.
Easy difficulty. A split-second of wandering thoughts. That tiny lapse opened the gap.
“Ah-ah— I won’t abandon yo—”
BEEEEEP!
Red light. Pitch error.
“Ah!!”
Chat exploded.
“Ugh…”
They had planned the content together, true, but the difficulty of the punishments had been set entirely according to Do-yoon’s opinions. Looking at those horrific options, she had half-suspected he actually just wanted to torment her.
“Gulp—”
Lunari reluctantly spun the roulette.
Whirrrrrrrrrrrr—
Click! Ba-da-bam!
Deathwish Pork Cutlet
“Uh.”
The color drained from Nari’s face.
“………”
Of all the things it could have landed on…
It was the one punishment she had opposed to the bitter end. Do-yoon had insisted it had to stay, so she hadn’t been able to cut it. Over twenty options on the wheel—surely it wouldn’t hit that one—and she had folded. She now bitterly regretted her past self.
“I only messed up once!! Whyyyyyy!!!”
Watching the viewers cheer, a rebellious spark lit inside her. It was just food. She would absolutely not give them the reaction they wanted.
“……Fine. I just have to eat it. No big deal. Once you swallow it’s all the same.”
She muttered the words like a hypnotic chant. Above all, Do-yoon was watching this stream right now. She refused to look pathetic.
Just close my eyes and get it over with.
Moments later the staff brought out the pork cutlet—
“This is supposed to be food?”
The visual was violent. Is that even sauce? Did they pour lava on it?
A sauce so red it verged on black-red blanketed the cutlet. The closer she got, the more the spicy aroma stabbed her nose.
It’s fine. It’s fine.
She had toughed it out and eaten lemons when she guested on Prism Tree. She could handle this.
Feigning nonchalance, she elegantly sliced off a piece of the cutlet, speared it with her fork, and brought it to her mouth.
She chewed exactly twice.
“U-gh, ghh, ghhhhhhh———!!!!”
The heat detonated.
“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! AAAARGH!!! WATER!! WATER!! WATER!!!!”
Lunari’s avatar stomped her feet, dropped to her knees, and pounded the floor in real time—every motion broadcast live.
Dignity abandoned, Lunari howled. Fat tears welled up; through the blur one chat message stabbed her in the eye.
“It’s not acting?!! It’s actually spicy!!!!! I’m serious!!!!!!”
They said one hate comment cut deeper than a hundred kind ones. She was dying of pain and someone called it acting. The injustice made her want to cry even harder.
Right then Han So-yeong, who had been hosting, approached while visibly stifling laughter.
“Nari-nim, are you okay? Want some water?”
She was clearly forcing the corners of her mouth down.
“……”
Lately, every time Nari saw Han So-yeong a prickling unease rose up, so she shot her a wary look. It had started around the hospital visit, hadn’t it?
She’s gotten weirdly nice to Do-yoon.
Had something happened between them? She hadn’t pried, but a woman’s intuition was flashing warning signs that something definitely had.
Hmph!
The instant Han So-yeong glanced away, Yu Nari speared another piece of the sliced cutlet with her fork.
“So-yeong-nim.”
“Yes— mmph—?!”
A red lump settled into Han So-yeong’s mouth. Humans are creatures of curiosity. Whether she had been wondering about it from the outside or not, So-yeong instinctively chewed the cutlet that had arrived in her mouth.
I should’ve spit it out right away.
Too late for regrets.
“Tasty, right?”
Han So-yeong’s eyes went round, then her face crumpled.
“Sssssssssss— KYAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
She wasn’t great with spicy food either.
Han So-yeong wasn’t wearing a capture rig, so viewers couldn’t see her face, but the vivid audio painted the scene perfectly.
And right then Park Gi-dong arrived carrying the milk she’d requested. He froze at the sight of the two of them practically breathing fire.
“Wh-what’s going on, why are you—”
Han So-yeong’s eyes met his and she seized him by the collar.
“AAAAH why meee! I don’t wan—! Mmmph—!”
Park Gi-dong got force-fed too.
“Director, would you like to try some too— heh?”
“……I’ll pass.”
All three of them already had red noses and bloodshot eyes on camera; no way he was eating any.
Only after they practically scoured their tongues with milk did the stream resume.
I didn’t look too pathetic… right?
Belatedly she remembered Do-yoon watching the broadcast, but by then she had already generated a mountain of legendary clips.
Peaceful Muse Family.clip
Lunari Legendary Scream lmao.clip
Lunari Breakdancing from Spice lmaoooo.clip
She had definitely left a lasting impression on the fans who had just joined the stream.
As the content wound down, Lunari prepared a surprise announcement—the grand finale of today’s stream.
“So, did you all have fun today? One last thing to show you! My song is dropping!”
A video rose on the screen.
A dimly lit room. The silhouette of a pink-haired girl curled up on a bed. Half-lidded eyes. Arms wrapped around a pillow. And over the drifting beat, Lunari’s voice layered and layered itself.
Mnya mnya mnya— I can’t hear a thing, mnya mnya mnya
The thirty-second teaser ended. Titles appeared on the screen.
The surprise song announcement sent chat into real-time chaos. Viewers who mainly consumed subculture and VTuber content cheered at the combination of animation and music. Those who had come in from outside found it unfamiliar, yet still praised the addictive melody.
For now the teaser had earned a passing grade from the viewers. The public’s verdict still lay ahead.
After Lunari’s thirty-second new-song teaser dropped, the communities stirred as well. The loudest reaction came from Yeong-il Gallery.
It was the place where people most interested in Yeong-il’s tracks gathered—listeners who weren’t quite professionals but still possessed real musical knowledge. And they were genuinely flustered.
Vocaloid?
They liked to claim they loved minor genres, hipster streak and all. But the track Yeong-il had brought this time was minor even among minors—music primarily consumed in subculture circles. Perfect for shaking the popular kids who only played at being outsiders.
I liked that Yeong-il didn’t chase commercial trends, but I never thought his genre boundaries were this nonexistent.
What even is this guy. lmaooo