Axe Disease
Axe disease.
Do-yoon? He’s so handsome!
W-will you go out with me!?
He’s the prettiest middle-school boy I’ve ever seen.
As I grew older, I came to realize I possessed a fairly decent face. Even though streaming left me with almost no social life, classmates still confessed to me out of the blue, and the endless flood of looks-praise from far more blunt internet viewers made it impossible not to know.
Six years later, where did that leave me? Unless some catastrophic reverse-mutation had struck, I still wasn’t bad-looking. That face had played no small part in my life of escape, so I still hadn’t decided whether it was a blessing or a curse.
Anyway—the reason I was dredging up the past was because I’d caught something strange during last night’s call with Yu Nari.
A bright, playful nuna one year older who felt like a friend. That was the image of her I carried in my head. Sometimes she could be a little clingy, yet she so clearly respected my private time that I felt grateful; other times I ignored her messages because I was busy with something else, and then I felt guilty. Wasn’t that what friendship looked like? A relationship where you helped each other grow.
It had definitely been that way… until yesterday’s conversation. Whining? Jealousy? Those emotions were mixed in. Why did I favor Yui more than her, when she was always so considerate and careful? Tomorrow she wanted me to hang out with her instead—
I felt wronged. I’d only helped because an offer came in, I reviewed it, and decided I could manage. Bonus Japanese limited-edition guitar merch on the side. She must have been sensitive with a big stage ahead. That was how I chose to take it, and the call ended.
Huk—wait, does she… like me?
Even someone as socially demolished as me found the situation suspicious. All those frequent phone calls lately—surely not?! The moment I started spinning fantasies alone, I felt axe disease coming on.
I had never met Yu Nari in person. Every person who had ever shown interest in me had approached while complimenting my face. I had zero data on this new pattern. My lack of romantic experience left everything hazy. I couldn’t exactly ask, “Hey, do you like me?”
And we were supposed to drink today…
Oh no. I’m getting nervous. What do I do?
Maybe because of the bond we’d already built, I didn’t dislike her just for being a woman. She was also the woman I’d talked to most comfortably in my entire twenty-one years of life. Alcohol and a girl—pretty stimulating dilemma for a twenty-something lifelong single guy.
“Eh? Ehhh.”
We were mid-collab stream. My mind had been off in the cabbage fields ever since last night’s unsolved mystery. Rambling along the stream of consciousness actually felt more comfortable somehow. Midway I’d even gotten a warning message from Kurogami Yui, but it was still better than freezing up and not speaking at all. A-il was a singing character anyway—talking a little about composition shouldn’t be a problem. Nobody was going to out me as Yeong-il over something that small.
“Yes, they say she’s the first. But not ‘our’ country, right? You’re Japanese, Yui-nim.”
“Ah, sorry.”
I matched her tiki-taka under Yui’s skillful lead and tried hard to yank my mind back from the Yu Nari issue. Thankfully the stage began soon after, so I could cut the chatter short.
The moment the host called Lunari’s name, the screen went dark and an eerie silence settled. Then—
Kung—!
A drumbeat rolled out, and LED light from the screens washed over the countless audience members again.
Blackout Cat.
Lunari, dressed in black funky clothes, slipped out from between the shadows.
Ziiing—! Woom—!
The bass rumbled so deep it seemed to shake the floor of the seats.
Blackout! The night the film snaps!
Every time the chorus hit, the vibration of the crowd’s roar seemed to travel through the screen.
…Whoa.
So this was a real concert? It was a completely different world from the Lunari concert I’d attended in VR World. Even the glimpses of the audience’s heat were intense. Apparently she could see that heat from her own viewpoint too. How terrifying must it feel looking down from the stage?
I could never do that.
Fresh respect for Lunari welled up inside me. Once the final part of Blackout Cat passed and the lights dimmed again, Yui—who had been quiet—suddenly spilled words in a rush.
“They rearranged it for the performance… no, I heard they did, and it suits her really well. Considering the big concert hall, they made the accompaniment, how should I put it—able to resonate more. Changed it to feel intense like a band, so it gets exciting like a festival—”
“Ahem.”
Maybe the excitement of the stage had gotten to me too. I needed to be careful. Still—my arrangement was good. Right?
The subtitle Mmmnya — Lunari appeared, and the lights slowly brightened. Blackout Cat had been heavy in pitch and overall dark in mood. This time a soft synth pad gently filled the space, spreading a bright, sunny energy—completely symmetrical, like the quiet dawn after a storm.
In the middle of a lush green botanical garden sat a single bed. On that plush-looking bed, a girl in pink pajamas curled up quietly. The camera closed in on Lunari’s eyes as she tossed and turned—then flash! they snapped open and the beat exploded in an instant.
Tick— ti-tick— tick— ti-ti-ti-tick—
Prick up your ears—someone’s calling you
Wag your tail, you seem to be in a good mood
Instead of the charismatic funky look, a girl in fluttery pink pajamas rubbed her sleepy eyes and stood. She sat on the bed, stretched, tilted her head this way and that. Starlight spilled through the window behind her. She poured out lyrics over a frantic BPM past 200, yet Lunari’s relaxed, almost tossed-off tone was captivating.
Nice. So nice.
When she lay back down and delivered that addictive stretch of “mmmnya mmmnya mmmnya,” my toes started tapping on their own. I casually pulled my guitar over and strummed a few chords, as if adding harmony.
A soft tone layered in here would’ve been nice too.
Mmmnya was a song that expressed Lunari’s dazed, half-asleep mental world, so it was chaotic by nature—but slowing the whole thing down into a lazy-afternoon feel could work just as well. I ran that simulation while watching the stage and before I knew it we had reached the end.
The cat that had accepted sleep flopped down at once. The finishing scene was supposed to end with her smacking her lips and drifting off…
Huh?
Lunari flashed a mischievous grin, cracked one eye open toward the camera, and finished with a playful bang-bang finger-gun pose.
What was that—did she change the choreography? Or…
Surely not for me— I almost thought. Self-conscious much. That ending wasn’t bad either.
While the live roar swallowed Lunari’s stage, I checked the viewers’ reactions too. The pajamas are cute, the song is good, the melody won’t leave my ears, is that real-time?—and so on.
At first she freaked out saying she was too embarrassed to sing, and now look at her go.
Coincidentally, right after Lunari’s performance came the Rookie of the Year announcement.
Because of that, outside attacks on Lunari had come now and then, but according to Han So-yeong they weren’t that severe. Normally rival idol fandoms would tear into each other for blood, but Lunari’s music-chart performance was so overwhelmingly superior that the checks had lost all meaning. From the perspective of fans of other rookies standing on the same starting line, they accepted the gap yet still dropped by to grumble once in a while.
Unlike the Mellow Music Awards, MAMA had clearly treated the virtual artist properly. They raised the tension by showing, live among the nominees, Lunari waiting in the mocap studio. When the host called out “Rookie of the Year—Lunari!” a beaming pink cat appeared.
Did she prepare that too?
She must have been thinking about what she’d do the moment her name was called. I’d have to ask her later. In my own case I was nominated for Best OST and Best Producer, but whether I’d win was still cloudy. Lunari had been half-confirmed, so she could prepare with a lighter heart.
On the screen she even received virtual flowers and the trophy, deepening the immersion.
Because Lunari had accepted by proxy at the Mellow Music Awards, the chat flooded for a moment. She thanked her parents, the company, and the staff who prepared the stage, then playfully asked the fans watching the broadcast whether they were seeing her well and thanked them too.
Just when I was starting to feel left out—
Lunari cheerfully waved the trophy in her hand and said,
Whew, almost got my feelings hurt.
Lunari’s avatar stared straight into the camera with a seriousness that made me feel the gaze of the person inside.
Did I write my own acceptance speech with that much care…?
I had left the acceptance to a proxy again this time, so if I won they would simply read the note I prepared. Lunari had hoped to accept for me, but putting a VTuber on the big screen just for a proxy acceptance looked weird, so Shin Se-young on site would do it again.
Anyway. Lunari’s rather earnest speech continued.
I had, after all, drawn inspiration from her snoring and her dead-drunk state to write songs.
When her speech ended, Yui clapped with exaggerated fuss.
“Ehh? We’re not that—”
“Ah, right. Yes. I’m sure he will.”
Afterwards I received another warning message on Discord.
“Ahem-hem.”
S-sorry.