I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work-Chapter 260

Back in Japan.

This trip began on a completely different note compared to when I’d come with Iyura.

[Kiri: I’ll give you the code to my place. Just toss your stuff in and do a bit of sightseeing.]

[Kiri: You’ve got time for that, right?]

I did wonder if I should spend the time practicing more...

But honestly, I wasn’t even sure what to practice.

Like the voice acting teacher said, my strongest card was just how well I could imitate Kayami.

So I just loaded up a specially edited recording file—“Kayami Special”—on my wireless earbuds and kept it on loop as I dropped my bags at Kiri’s place and headed straight out into the city.

Still, I kept the front bag with my passport on me.

I’d already had the delightful experience of airport security asking me, “Where are your parents?”

Anyway, I wandered around checking out the places I’d wanted to see.

Bought some of the foods I’d wanted to try.

All the while, I had Kayami’s voice echoing through my head, waiting for audition time.

I’m the kind of person who has to arrive at least two hours early for anything important or I get anxious. So the moment I dropped my bag off at Kiri’s was exactly two hours before the audition.

***

Those two hours passed, and soon it was 2 p.m.

I was reminded—yet again—that standing still in the streets of Japan in summer is nothing short of torture.

Sweating buckets, I hopped in a taxi and headed for the audition hall.

That’s when I finally took out my earbuds and thought:

“This is my first audition... What am I even supposed to do?”

All I’d focused on was the determination to deliver a perfect Kayami impression.

I hadn’t considered at all how the audition process actually worked.

Thinking back, how had I ended up doing any of my creative work until now?

Joining a stream to cover for someone last-minute.

Appearing on camera to calm down members.

Singing casually for promotional value.

Then suddenly getting dragged into CAT Entertainment because someone noticed I could sing.

None of it had started with, “I want to be a great artist!”

I just kept doing what I could for the company, and somehow ended up here.

“Do I walk in and start the performance right after introducing myself? Or do the judges tell you what to do?”

I should’ve asked my teacher stuff like this. But we’d only focused on vocal techniques and performance skills, so this gap in my knowledge was now biting me.

Still, at least I didn’t know what kind of audition it would be—but I did know what a waiting room felt like.

When I arrived, I saw a towering fortress of animation glory.

Inside, the posters hanging everywhere took my breath away.

But as someone here for an audition, I kept calm and reminded myself I’d take it all in after I was done. I followed the guide into the elevator.

Because you never know when or where an audition might start.

You always have to maintain that edge—that tension of being evaluated.

Inside the meeting room, two other contestants were already seated.

“...”

“Oh my.”

Were they waiting for their turn?

I’d heard how much hype was riding on the second season because of the first’s success, but I didn’t expect actual big-name voice actors to show up.

I bowed and took a seat between the two of them, who had their eyes locked on me but said nothing.

For those curious who they were—

One was a woman with black-rimmed glasses, giving off an intellectual vibe—Naori.

She recently played young Vita in World of Vita.

She’s a four-year veteran, excellent at delivering emotional, layered voice acting.

She’s particularly great at playing seemingly innocent girls with dark backstories—perfect for portraying complexity.

The other was Tanya, a blonde with a gal-like aura.

She has around three years of experience and is known for her bright, piercing, youthful voices.

Given how crucial the final chapter’s manic laughter and screaming scenes are for the character Roro, I figured that’s why she was here too.

She nailed the role of a girl driven mad by war in War of Zero.

“But why these two, of all people?”

For reference: these two were the voices of the left and right-hand characters to Kurokumo Loro—the one I was auditioning for—in Coral Blue’s Japanese server version.

So I found it odd.

Surely they were already cast for their characters and would have scenes interacting with Roro.

Did the production expect them to do double roles?

Voice actors really are something else.

...But.

“Contestants 13, 14, 15, please enter.”

“Yes~.” “Yup.” “Mmkay.”

If those two were my competition... I’m kind of terrified?

Walking in a line down the corridor past stacks of documents and boxes, with pro voice actors ahead and behind me, the pressure was immense.

Once we reached the audition room door—

Naori suddenly turned and asked,

“Boss, you ready? The Master’s just ahead.”

And she said it in the voice of Nana—Kurokumo Loro’s left-hand girl.

It wasn’t just Naori, either. Tanya behind me joined in too.

“Ughhh, let’s get in there, wipe them out, and kidnap the Master already. I’m itching to go!”

I didn’t understand why they were suddenly doing this.

But one idea struck me.

“Wait... are these two not actually here to audition...?”

And if that thought crossed my mind—I had to act.

I summoned every bit of Kayami’s vocal tone I’d memorized and launched into character.

“Heehee, that’s right. I heard the Servants were guarding this place, but that’s nothing, right? As long as I’ve got you guys and my Cube, there’s nothing to worry about!”

I flung the door open.

Inside were Kayami and two men who looked like staff from the animation production company.

As expected.

That moment was clearly the start of the audition.

No scenario briefing. They were throwing in an improvised challenge to see how we adapted.

A test to see how naturally acting was ingrained in us.

In that moment, I really appreciated all the training I’d received from the voice acting teacher that Na Hyun-gon assigned.

Because she had said:

“This goes for all performers—you never know when the best performance will happen. You might be goofing off, but if it feels right, you need to snap into serious mode right away.”

Just like in a recording studio, where you never know when the real take will start—

Until the judges say, “Stop,” you have to stay in character.

But overthinking it leads to choking.

So, I needed to relax.

And the one way I could do that—

Was to mess with the people around me.

It fit Roro’s character too.

She’s always messing around, scheming how to make the Master suffer and squirm in pain.

“Tsk tsk, Master~”

Even without signals from the two beside me—

I walked confidently toward Kayami, who sat at the judges’ table.

Since the “Master” could be any gender or age, I purposely targeted Kayami as the Master.

“What’s this? You brought bodyguards instead of Servants? Did you seriously think these people could stop me?”

I slapped the judges’ table with my small hand and leaned in toward Kayami’s face, grinning.

“Well, it’s true my Cube doesn’t work so well on anyone but Servants. But oh dear! Ta-da! My left hand—Nana!”

[“Here I am~.”]

“And the right—Kuku!”

[“Let’s go!!”]

“You think I just came here alone for fun? Heeheehee.”

As the two moved closer, pretending to draw weapons from their waists, I slowly raised my idle hand toward Kayami’s face.

She wasn’t actually flinching, but—

If she were really the Master, this would definitely be a moment of panic.

I had no idea what scenario the judges had in mind.

But I chose to believe in this one and pushed forward with the performance.

Once your imagined world breaks down, your acting falters too.

The teacher had told me: it’s better to commit first, then fine-tune later with the director.

“Why, Master. Did you think I’d come alone?”

Kayami opened her mouth, her voice trembling.

I wasn’t sure if she was going along with me or had planned to act this way anyway.

“You said you’d come alone... Did you lie to me, Roro?”

“But Master brought company too, didn’t you? We both lied—so let’s just forgive each other, okay? Just don’t send your guards away~ heehee.”

With that line, I lifted the hand I’d placed on the table and snapped my fingers.

Snap.

And like they’d been waiting for it, the two behind me burst into over-the-top acting.

[“Die already~!”]

[“Hyaaa!!”]

Surprisingly, the two men watching us—the ones pretending to be guards—acted like they’d been hit.

Clap clap.

The man on the left clapped twice and said,

“Okay. That’s enough. That was good. Naori, Tanya—you may go.”

[“Thank you for your {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} hard work.”]

Except for when he pretended to be hit, the man on the left had a piercing stare the whole time.

He now looked at me with that same intense expression and said,

“To be honest, even though Kayami recommended you, I wasn’t expecting much since you’re Korean.”

No matter how fluent you are—

Voice acting isn’t something foreigners can just waltz into.

There’s a depth in the performance that comes from living in the language—20 years in Japan versus just a few years learning abroad makes a huge difference.

Even if I can mimic a Japanese speaker, when it comes to roles without reference, that depth could easily fall apart.

But the one I used as my reference—

Was none other than Kayami herself.

She has nearly ten years of experience and has played every role imaginable.

Even other professionals admire her passion for the craft.

That gave me a wealth of material to study.

If I could absorb enough, I figured maybe—just maybe—I could stand in as her duplicate.

Apparently, that strategy worked. The director’s angry look began to soften.

“I think I understand now what Kayami was talking about. I’m impressed. The resemblance is uncanny. I thought we’d brought in her clone.”

[“Told you so, Director. Didn’t I say so?”]

So he was the director.

No wonder he had such overwhelming presence.

Kayami, looking smug, added,

“No matter how good someone is at mimicry, if the base tone is too different, there’s always a limit. But Danbi’s natural voice is cutely similar to mine, so it works better.”

“I agree with that—but the audition isn’t over yet.”

“Ah.”

Kayami nodded at me repeatedly.

It was her way of telling me: Now’s when the real test begins. Do your best.

“...If I’d failed that test just now, they probably would’ve kicked me out on the spot.”

To be honest—

Hearing Naori and Tanya’s voices gave me chills.

Even when I’m just talking to Kayami on the phone—

Voice actors’ voices just... make your heart flutter.

What do VTubers and voice actors have in common?

They breathe life into a character behind the scenes.

Before VTubers were a thing, when the character industry was just emerging—voice actors were there first.

With nothing but their voices, they brought characters to life.

Some people hate hearing that voice actors are the “ancestors of VTubers.”

But honestly, I’m grateful to them.

Thanks to those actors and their vividly performed characters, people stopped finding living characters uncanny—and that’s how today’s VTubers exist.

To act alongside those voice actors?

...This may be an experience I’ll never have again.

Since I’ve been given a chance I’ll remember for life—

I resolved to give it everything I had in return.

I stepped back slightly to a spot where the judges could see me better, bowed deeply, and said:

“I’ll do my best, so as not to disrespect the other voice actors.”