The Accidental Name Reveal
Her name was Yoo Na-ri. And Kim Do-yoon was Kim Do-yoon. What do you mean?
Yoo Na-ri: 400,000 won
'…Red pill indeed.' The deposit from Luna-ri had gone through. And in the process, an unwanted sharing of real names had occurred. Where did that VTuber mystique go? Stick to the red pill. From what I'd studied, revealing the red pill was taboo, but here we were, casually learning each other's names. I had no idea names show up on bank transfers. I'd never sent money to anyone before—how would I know? My heart raced when she said she'd pay, and I blurted out my account number. Then my name popped out of Luna-ri's mouth, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
[Is this Kim Do-yoon? Oh— so your name's Kim Do-yoon. Do-yoon… D-Do-yoon. Ahem, I'll still call you by your English name anyway.] It was baffling why she stubbornly stuck to "Young-il"—the fake name I'd made up—or my English one, ignoring both my real name and the alias I'd bothered to invent.
"Yes, Yoo Na-ri-ssi."
[Whoa, right, mine shows up too.] When I responded like I already knew her name, Yoo Na-ri sounded shocked. She'd apparently forgotten her own would be visible.
[Um… hearing my full name feels kinda weird and awkward…]
"Then… customer?"
[No! That's too impersonal! Just call me like you usually do!!]
"Ah, got it."
Yoo Na-ri to Luna-ri—talk about a lazy nickname. I hadn't told her outright, but I never liked the name Luna-ri. Now that I knew her real name, it finally clicked why she'd picked it. Luna-ri, Luna-ri, Luna-ri. It was hard to say repeatedly. Sounded like a bar name at first glance. Like that one I saw online… TXX-ri or something.
[Oh, or maybe just Nari has a double meaning…]
That might work better. Saying Luna-ri over and over twisted my tongue.
"Yes, Nari-ssi."
[Eep… Th-this feels awkward too…]
Which rhythm was I supposed to follow? Once the shock of the name-reveal fiasco wore off, I noticed the money now sitting in my account. Yoo Na-ri was paying 400,000 won per song, but she said it was tough right now. Her stream was growing, so she asked me to hold off, using that as collateral or whatever. I'd assumed she had tons of cash and snatched it up quick, but apparently not. A tiny pang of conscience hit me. Money was getting tight lately anyway. The savings from my old streaming days were nearly gone, forcing the grim prospect of venturing outside.
400,000 won per song. My composition folder was stuffed with tracks. About 13 finished ones, but over 30 if you counted unfinished sketches. All made since holing up in this room. Reasons? Boredom, melancholy, joy—various excuses. Truth was, I hadn't thought deeply about it; at some point, my hands just wouldn't stop. How much would these all sell for? The day someone paid for my music… It tickled like the thrill of viewer recognition back then.
"Ah, sending them right now. There are a bunch, so pick the ones you like, Nari-ssi. If none click, I'll dig into the unfinished ones."
Please, let there be something she likes. No refunds. With that desperate wish, I fired off all my finished tracks to Yoo Na-ri.
Hoping it was enough despite the shortcomings.
"Please take good care of them."
IG Entertainment headquarters.
CEO Kang Sung-min slowly swiped through the tablet on his desk. The screen showed an analysis report on the steadily expanding VTuber market. Personally, he had zero interest in this subculture where avatars danced and sang. But as CEO, it was different. IG Ent respected diversity among its artists. Their open policy transcending genre boundaries had amassed top talents, securing their current status—no exaggeration. So they weren't hesitating to pioneer this new category either. Plus, their flagship singer-songwriter Shin Se-young played a role.
'She thinks she's hiding it tight…'
Everyone long-time at the company knew Shin Se-young was a VTuber maniac—it was an open secret. They just pretended not to notice. She'd been caught giggling at her phone in the cafeteria more than once. Sponsoring LINK's Virtual Voice Fight and putting her on the judging panel was largely to indulge her secret hobby while scouting the new market.
Knock knock.
A&R Manager Kim Hee-dong entered the CEO's office with a light rap.
"Sir, this is the VTuber contest clip Se-young mentioned."
"Let me see."
The tablet Kim handed over played the round-of-16 match 3 video: unknown VTuber Luna-ri singing "Graduation". Views had already blown past 80,000. Terrifying spread for a subculture contest clip on a streaming platform.
Kang Sung-min watched to the end and let out a gasp of admiration.
"Whoa. Impressive. She totally reworked the track? No wonder Se-young's eyes lit up."
It wasn't just a backing track swap—the arranger perfectly highlighted the vocals. Both 32-strong and 16-strong were tailored flawlessly to her voice; his keen eye spotted the arranger's skill.
Still, messing with a popular group's song was risky.
"Sheesh. Prism Tree fans will foam at the mouth."
The comment section right beside was already chaos.
No official YouTube meant zero moderation—total mess. Kang Sung-min tsked.
But controversy bred buzz. An arranger stirring equal noise and praise? As an agency CEO, it made his mouth water.
"This arranger's 'Young-il,' right? Contact them now. Check affiliation, freelancer status. Best if we can snag them."
"…That's the problem, sir."
"Problem?"
"No way to reach them."
Kim scratched his head awkwardly.
"All we know about composer Young-il is he's Luna-ri's acquaintance. No search hits—probably a total alias. Tried reaching via Luna-ri, but…"
"But?"
"No business email or contact on her channel. Not even a single SNS link."
"Huh?"
Kang Sung-min blinked in disbelief. Any streamer these days lists an inquiry email in their profile basics. Yoo Na-ri, streaming newbie with zero social experience, had overlooked it.
"Live chat's the only option, but should we ask there?"
"Crazy? Too off-putting."
Kang waved it off firmly. Asking for a third-party intro on stream was tacky, especially if it soured future contract talks.
"With skills like that, 99% chance it's a hidden alt anyway. Don't expect a quick catch."
"So what now? Wait?"
"That Luna-ri's in quarters. Tell Se-young to chat her up next stream and snag a contact."
Kang smiled leisurely.
"Anyway, arranger's an arranger. Watch next week's contest close. That 'Sion' sings great."
With IG's push, any VTuber would skyrocket. That was the contest's point—they'd dangled prizes, now just enjoy the show.
Half a day passed since sending songs to Yoo Na-ri.
Picked one?
Thirteen tracks took her a while. Which one made the cut? Like sending off a pup from your litter.
Ring ring— ring ring—
She'd asked before if calls were okay. Now she rang naturally.
"Hello."
[Whoa, Young-il-ssi! The songs are so good? Super hard to pick.]
Phew. Money secured. Time to swap that wobbly mic arm.
"Which ones?"
[Hmm, quick-picked 4, barely narrowed to 3. Here— these.]
Yoo Na-ri sent filenames. Third, ninth, and… first? The first two made sense. My songs leaned slow and moody; these had structure fitting contests. I'd have picked similar.
But the first? Oldest by date. Made soon after holing up. Raw lyrics scrawled in frenzy, my stickiest, gloomiest debut. Title: "This is All for Me."
"Why the first one?"
Couldn't not ask. Why?
"Not contest material."
[I know. But…]
Why this of all?
[This one's my favorite.]
Top of thirteen? Breathing got tight. Unfit for contests—slow, dull, no punch. What did she hear?
Curious but didn't want to know.
"To win, you need explosive highlights. This song…"
[I get it. But I love this one. Lyrics too. Hard to explain, but… I think I can express it well.]
Yoo Na-ri seemed resolute, so after a pause, I compromised.
"Here's the deal. Decide per matchup. Match style to song. Practice one more. Include the fourth you waffled on."
[Yes! Great! I'll practice all 4 anyway. Ready anytime.]
"…"
Objectively, "This is All for Me" wouldn't cut it. Utterly mismatched for the contest. Any opponent, one of the other three wins.
[I'll practice first then—check later? Need original creator's okay.]
"Yes. Of course."
After sending her off, I replayed "This is All for Me" for the first time in ages. Stifling gloom, despair. Hours huddled, tapping keys in isolation. What did Yoo Na-ri see there? Skin crawling with shame. Was pre-money me too greedy? After sending her away.
"Haa…."
Deep sigh. Sat at the computer, listening to my old tracks one by one to calm down. And time flew by fast.