I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work-Chapter 114

Thus came the next day, Monday, March 12.

The date was March 12th, Monday.

From today until June 15th, we'd be spending three months together.

I deliberately arrived an hour before the scheduled training time, but someone had already beaten me here.

It was Han Bada—Hanami Orca.

I had deliberately arrived an hour early before the start of the training, yet she was even earlier.

Fast. Really fast.

“Hello. You're Han Bada, right?”

“...Ah. Hello, ma'am.”

I glanced at her in surprise.

‘She’s seriously tall.’

Among the members, Dora was the tallest at 171 cm, but Orca was even taller—173 cm.

Perhaps it felt more pronounced because she stood straight-backed with perfect posture.

The straight posture and rigid shoulders made sense, given that her documents mentioned she had served three years as a non-commissioned officer before deciding to debut.

Considering I’d deferred military service for four years back when I was still a man, I couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward around someone who had actually completed active duty.

Seeing her sitting so stiffly and staring straight ahead without moving, I lightly poked her waist.

“Gahk—!”

“Relax. You don't have to sit that rigidly.”

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

“Ah, yes, understood....”

After my playful jab, Orca’s stiff shoulders relaxed a little.

This seemed the perfect time to introduce myself.

“Let me introduce myself first. I’m Deputy Manager Magia. I'll be like your homeroom teacher here for the next three months.”

Orca's eyes widened into perfect circles.

“So you really were the deputy manager! You look identical to your avatar, so I wondered if it was possible. It’s an honor to meet you in person! I've heard a lot about you before passing the audition!”

“What did you hear exactly?”

“Um. Just that...if I made it in, streaming would become a lot easier thanks to you!”

“You make me sound like a piece of equipment.”

“...Th-that’s not how I meant it!”

I teasingly picked at her words, inspired by a military drama clip I had casually watched in Shorts, and it worked perfectly.

“I know, I’m joking.”

Orca relaxed slightly, her stiff posture easing up at last. One of my key tasks was to pick up these small habits early on, making it easier to handle potential issues down the line.

In Orca’s case, she seemed to have a habit of phrasing compliments awkwardly. That was something I’d have to gently manage over time.

This was probably the first and best opportunity to do a proper introduction, so I was glad the ice was breaking now.

But despite the initial friendliness, the atmosphere gradually turned a bit awkward again.

Orca wasn’t particularly talkative, and neither was I, since we’d only just met. Plus, her posture was back to perfect military form, eyes fixed forward, making it difficult to casually continue the conversation.

Still, I quietly appreciated her personality.

Someone tight-lipped meant fewer leaks.

Fewer leaks meant less work for me.

Success.

Additionally, I had briefly worried she might bring up my own potential debut, but fortunately, that didn't seem to be on her mind at all.

Unable to let the silence linger, I threw out a provocative line to stir things up.

“You seem uncomfortable around me, Orca.”

“P-pardon me?!”

With me relentlessly bombarding Orca with small talk for another thirty minutes, our second trainee finally arrived.

“H-hello... Is this the training room for the second generation?”

She was awkwardly hovering by the door, unsure whether to enter.

The evaluation from the CEO describing her as "someone desperate to seem popular" had been spot-on.

It was Ahn Si-ho—Tokoyo Miho.

“Yes, you're in the right place. Sit anywhere you feel comfortable.”

“Th-thank you...”

Predictably, she chose the seat at the far left, leaving the middle seat empty.

Orca occupied the far right, meaning Ena, who would arrive later, would inevitably become the glue between these two distant figures.

Miho kept glancing in my direction with an awkward expression.

Though both Orca and Miho seemed equally uncomfortable, Miho gave off a far more pitiable aura. It was impossible to just ignore her.

Feeling obligated to break the ice, I decided to initiate conversation immediately.

I remembered the self-introduction video she'd submitted—it had radiated sheer madness.

According to Momo’s evaluation, Miho had perfectly portrayed some intense personality she'd clearly copied from somewhere. Her imitation was impeccable, though obviously forced. It made me realize again just how high the barriers to becoming a VTuber truly were.

“Um... Deputy Manager, are you perhaps... debuting together with us?”

Didn’t I just introduce myself as their homeroom teacher a moment ago? Did she completely miss that?

“No. I'm here to help you debut; I’m not debuting myself.”

“Eh... Really?”

“Yes. Why did you think otherwise?”

There was a theory floating around the community that Magia would debut alongside the second generation talents.

"When the second generation debuts, I thought Gia might debut along with us," Miho said. "Because there's a mismatch if you count us and the first-generation talents. Four of them and three of us? It makes sense if Gia debuts with us."

Miho was timid, but certainly not stupid.

She had exceptional deductive skills. Whenever she watched mystery novels or movies, her guesses were correct nine out of ten times.

At this moment, too, her reasoning flowed smoothly—like a clever detective straight out of a novel—though Miho tended to enjoy deduction itself rather than bothering with verifying the accuracy of evidence.

Therefore, she often casually raised conspiracy theories about other VTuber groups or major political and social issues, without much concern for verifying the facts.

That’s probably why, during the audition, despite repeatedly being cornered by the tough questions from the management and skillfully ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) slipping out five whole times, she ultimately burst into tears when it seemed she couldn't escape anymore. Still, she'd already earned passing marks with those impressive evasions.

In short, she was bound to attract management's close scrutiny.

Looks like the operations team would soon gain another person to keep a close eye on, right alongside our expert leaker, Maru.

Though, of course, keeping an eye on talent was technically part of my job anyway, so I had no complaints about that.

‘...Still, I'm surprised everyone's suddenly gone so quiet.’

How could three people gathered together produce less conversation?

I had no choice but to grab Miho and throw out another question.

***

It was Ena, the last to arrive, who finally broke the prolonged silence.

When she showed up, she voiced a speculation similar to Miho’s earlier deduction.

"Since there are clearly four first-generation talents and now only three of us in the second generation, wouldn’t it make sense if Gia debuted alongside us?"

Ena might’ve been timid, but she wasn’t stupid.

In fact, she had exceptional deductive abilities. Whenever she watched mystery novels or movies, her predictions were usually spot-on, about nine out of ten times correct.

Right now, her reasoning sounded perfectly logical—like a skilled detective calmly presenting her theory.

She just happened to enjoy the act of deduction itself more than the accuracy of any evidence.

Hence, she didn't recklessly create conspiracy theories about other VTuber groups or major political and social issues—though she needed little prompting to guess when given the opportunity.

This trait was likely why she’d impressed everyone during the audition, skillfully escaping from difficult questions posed by management a full five times, before ultimately bursting into tears when cornered with nowhere left to run. Still, she'd already passed thanks to her artistry in evasion up until that moment.

In other words, Ena had quickly caught the management’s eye—so much so that even Momo mentioned she’d be closely monitored after debut.

Great. Alongside Maru, our resident leak specialist, there’s another person the operations team will have their eyes glued on.

Though technically, monitoring talents closely was always my responsibility anyway.

‘...Still, it really has gotten quiet.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

How was it possible for three people to gather and become even quieter than before?

It looked like my only option was to grab Miho and toss another question her way.

After a brief moment, Ena, who was originally preparing for a third-generation debut but got unexpectedly fast-tracked to second-generation, added a cautious remark:

“When you said you weren't going to debut, were you just lying because I wasn't officially part of Parallel yet?”

Her reasoning was surprisingly natural, not based on mere guesswork.

Magia quickly shook her head, denying it immediately.

“It’s nothing like that. Whether you debut, keep streaming as an office worker like now, or do both jobs simultaneously, it doesn't really affect us that much.”

Once again, Maru’s words were referenced as a justification.

“Because it seems the community already sees Gia’s role as special, it works perfectly fine for you to stream occasionally under specific circumstances. Besides, isn’t it fine for a company to have at least one VTuber who promotes their own talents out of genuine fandom? Or am I wrong?”

This comment made Magia reconsider Momo’s casual suggestion from a while back about her own debut.

Even if it was intended as a joke, the fact remained that only two candidates had initially passed the auditions, creating a genuine crisis. In such a critical situation, Magia had clearly been considered by Momo as a potential wildcard.

The implication was that if Ena hadn’t agreed to debut early as part of the second generation, Magia might truly have been forced onto the stage as a last-minute solution.

‘Should I at least mentally prepare myself, just in case?’

Meanwhile, Ena’s comment had ignited curiosity in the other two second-generation members, Miho and Orca, who looked at Magia with sparkling eyes, silently asking: "Gia, are you really debuting?"

Thus, the entire second generation now seemed convinced that Magia was debuting alongside them, perfectly aligning with Cheon Do-hee’s predictions.

Perhaps she really did need to mentally prepare herself.

After all, becoming friendly with them wouldn’t hurt—even if she had no intention whatsoever of actually debuting.

And so, with her trademark mischievous instinct flaring up, Magia found herself naturally switching gears:

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it some thought, at least once in a while, right?”

Thus, without any real intention behind it, Magia once again ignited her mischievous engine.