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

Darami grinned and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"At home. My parents were completely against me doing streams, so."
It sounded like she was about to dive into something serious.
But it wasn’t.

The expression on Darami’s face as she brought up the past was way too cheerful for that.
"Hmm. Anyway, I’m planning to drink tonight, you know? Might as well talk about the past while I’m tipsy."
"Do you really have to?"

"I mean, it’s not like I’m paying for it. Didn’t you say you were covering drinks, Gia? So why hesitate?"
"You’re just as shameless off-stream as you are on it."
"I get that a lot. Haha."

While offering juice instead of alcohol to Magia and Pino, Darami slowly started retracing her memories.
"So, I think the first time was back in high school. We had this career survey at school, and I wrote down that I wanted to be a streamer. That ended up getting sent to my parents, and I got an earful."
Apparently, Darami had filled out the survey without thinking too deeply about it at the time.
She didn’t really have any specific ambitions.

Living aimlessly had pretty much always been her dream, or so she claimed.
"It’s not like my family was going through any hardship or anything. My parents had always told me to do whatever made me happy. But the moment I wrote down streaming, they freaked out."
"Ah, I see."

"But the thing is, I had this one thought. ‘Why are they so against it?’"
"Well, I mean… some older folks do think online streaming is kind of lowbrow."
"No, that’s not it. My parents are the kind of people who live off attention."

I couldn’t help tilting my head at the word “attention.”
Jobs that rely on public attention are pretty rare, and the number of people who work in that kind of field is even smaller.
"Would it be okay if I asked what they do?"

"Of course! It’s not like I have anything to hi—"
Darami, who had been acting like she was ready to spill everything, suddenly paused.
She cracked her eyes open halfway and glanced between Magia and Pino.

"Well… maybe not nothing. You guys won’t go blabbing this to just anyone, right? If my red pill gets exposed, I’m getting dragged back home instantly."
"I won’t say a word. Pino, you’ll keep it a secret too, right?"
"If I let it slip, I’ll cut off my deal with Mimax and starve to death."

"You really don’t need to go that far…"
"Still, it’s important to you. And you want to keep it private. I’ll help you make sure it stays that way—even if you accidentally spill it yourself, I’ll cover for you."
Maybe it was the bond they’d built over the past three weeks, but Darami gave a small nod and replied.
"Alright. I’ll trust you…"

"You made the right choice."
"...You’re suddenly giving off scammer vibes, you know that?"
"Kidding, kidding."

Darami fiddled with her phone and then showed them a photo she’d taken with her parents.
They looked familiar somehow, but since I never cared much about 3D celebrities, I couldn’t place them right away.
And Pino wasn’t any different.

As the two of us stood there blankly staring at the photo, Darami looked a bit flustered and muttered,
"Uh… you really don’t know who they are?"
"I only watch VTuber streams. Sorry."

"I only watch Magia’s streams!"
"..."
Darami was speechless.

But unlike Darami, who definitely had a foot in the normie world, both Pino and I were firmly rooted in subculture.
Not recognizing celebrity faces wasn’t that weird for people like us.
Darami seemed to get that.

She switched from the photo to a Triwiki page and showed it to us.
"Ahh."
"Oh."

That’s when we finally figured out who Darami’s parents were.
Her father was Baek Seok-gyu.
A theater actor with over ten years of experience, who hit it big after debuting as a movie actor alongside her mother.

He was considered one of the top middle-aged actors in the country—so popular that people would be disappointed if he didn’t appear in the latest Retflix series.
Her mother was Cha Seong-gyeong.
She had been famous as a child actress and had turned every project she joined into a massive hit. Her career covered a wide range of genres, and she was known for choosing roles even in lower-budget films simply out of passion for the craft.

These days, Bae Tae-jun and Ha Seon-a were the hot “nation’s oppa/little sister” couple, but about ten years ago, her parents’ romance had been just as famous. That little tidbit was buried near the bottom of the Triwiki page.
Anyway.

If you weren’t deeply buried in subculture like me, there was pretty much no way you wouldn’t know who these two were.

"And you’re their daughter?"
"Yep. Somehow, that’s how it turned out…"
"That’s not something that just ‘happens.’"

Darami had just turned twenty-two this year.
"So you’re younger than me?"
"Huh? Wait, how old are you, Gia? Twenty?"

She seemed to have picked the minimum legal drinking age.
As soon as I told her the truth, Darami’s jaw dropped.
"No way. How are you twenty-five with that face?"

I gave her a peace sign and grinned.
"I’ve looked like this since I was fifteen. Anyway…"
My age and appearance weren’t what mattered here.

What mattered was that Darami was the daughter of those ultra-famous actors.
‘How did I end up with someone like this again…?’
To be honest, there hadn’t been any deep reason for casting Darami as Red Hood’s boss in Lightning Special City.

I just needed a figurehead.
She wanted to RP as a criminal boss (well, a mafia one), and once she took the role, she actually did a pretty solid job with it.
But then it turned out she was the daughter of two famous actors.

Her ridiculous acting skills and shameless delivery had always stood out to me—and now I knew those instincts didn’t just come out of nowhere. Genetics really were something.
"So do your parents still oppose your streaming?"
"Yup. That’s why I chose VTubing over face-cam streams."

"Ah, for the anonymity."
If you compare the number of new streamers debuting with face-cams versus VTuber models these days, the VTubers win by a landslide.
It’s not just on Pazijik, the platform that pushes VTubers heavily—even the competition has started shifting that way.

At the forefront of that wave were the explosive rise of Bachubachu and the steady growth of our group, Parallel.
Anonymity seemed to be a major selling point.
Sure, there were always people who used it to cover up their past, but more often than not, it was folks like Darami using it for more positive reasons.

"So then… did I make a mistake dragging you into Lightning Special City as Red Hood?"
"Huh?"
This time, Lightning Special City even made the news, and they specifically mentioned Red Hood and you, Darami.”

“…Huh? Really? No wonder those big corporate folks—who usually don’t even show their faces—suddenly started asking if I wanted to collab. I thought it was some kind of new scam and just ignored them all…”
Pino glanced sideways at me with a look of pure disbelief.
It was the kind of look that said, Is this person even aware of how the world works? Almost like she was implying Darami might be even more oblivious than me.

I pulled up the article and showed it to Darami, then explained just how huge the impact of Lightning Special City had been.
“They released a new article yesterday saying they’re positively reviewing Season 2 production. After that, Pazijik’s stock price spiked. Expectations were already high, but that just sent it skyrocketing.”
This time, Pino looked surprised at me.

Clearly still investing with a “vibes-based” strategy.
Turning back to Darami, I focused and continued.
“From now on—for at least the next three months—people will keep talking about Lightning Special City. During that time, your parents might hear your voice and recognize you.”

“Hmm… that’s a problem. If that happens, I’ll definitely get caught. My parents told me not to stream in the first place because they care that much…”
“They really care that much?”
“They care too much. That’s exactly why they told me not to do it…”

Turns out the reason they were so concerned…
Was because they were planning to launch their own YouTube careers in their later years.
And they weren’t just jumping into it randomly—they were planning to focus on mid-to-late-age content tailored for their fanbase.

Their ultimate goal was to introduce Darami in that content and, using their network, launch her career as an actress.
So from a young age, they sent her to acting academies and voice training centers, all to help her grow steadily into the profession.
Then suddenly, Darami told them she wanted to become a streamer—and understandably, they were shocked and tried to stop her.

Compared to YouTube, live content on Pazijik was raw, unfiltered, and unpredictable.
“Still, wouldn’t going along with your parents’ plans have given you a more stable debut and career?”
“It’s boring…”

“Boring?”
“Boring! I want immediate reactions, but there’s no one reacting while you’re filming something!”
“But if the scene goes well, the director and crew clap, right? And on YouTube, people leave comments as soon as the video goes up…”

“It’s not enough. I want something more instant, more certain, more intense.”
Even the sarcasm and toxic chat messages came faster in streams.
At this point, I was seriously wondering if she was just addicted to dopamine.

With a crooked smile, I asked,
“So… you do want to keep streaming, right?”
“Definitely!”

“What would happen if your parents found out?”
“They’d show up at my place.”
“…How?”

“They know where I live…”
“So they do know.”
“I couldn’t just run away from home—I didn’t want to worry them. So I used the excuse that I wanted to live closer to my acting academy and moved out. Even the way I dress is because they told me not to draw attention, since it might be dangerous for a woman living alone…”

What a devoted daughter.
I let out a quiet laugh and asked,
“So they know where you are, but not what you’re doing. If they find out, it’s instant recall.”

“Exactly.”
“So, if that happens, you’d have to graduate suddenly?”
“Yup.”

“That’d make a lot of your fans really sad.”
“Yeah…”
There were people who assumed Darami didn’t care about her fans at all.

But in reality, she cherished them deeply.
She started streaming because she genuinely wanted to hang out with her fans, and she only joined Lightning Special City because they asked her to participate.
She probably turned down those corporate collabs simply because she felt overwhelmed.

Still, among her core fanbase, it sparked this belief that she was turning down fame just to spend more time with them.
In any case, if Darami wanted to avoid a sudden graduation—
There was something I could offer.

“For now, just try to play dumb. I’ll find a way to help you.”
“Hearing that makes me feel a lot better…”
“Just think back on how I backed up your sorry excuse for a boss all throughout Lightning Special City.”

“I’m Pinodaaa~!”
“…Hahaha.”
***

The next day, I burst into the CEO’s office, ready to talk about a topic she’d been discussing with the planning team recently.
Normally, I avoided this office like the plague, but this time I entered with bold determination.
The CEO looked up in shock.

“…What the heck? All of a sudden?”
“When are we starting recruitment for our third generation?”
“That’s still a ways off. It was one year and nine months between Gen 1 and Gen 2, so we’re probably looking at a May debut next year.”

“So applications would open around September this year.”
“Yeah.”
“Hmmm…”

“What? What’s up?”
I shrugged.
“I found someone really promising for Gen 3. But asking them to apply then would be too late.”

“Who is it?”
“Darami.”
“Huh? Darami? She wants to debut with us?”

“No, not exactly. There’s a bit of family conflict going on, but I feel like if we backed her up, she’d be able to keep streaming like she wants.”
I told her everything that was said during dinner the night before.
The moment I mentioned Darami’s parents’ names, the CEO’s jaw dropped and she stared at me for a long time.

“You pulled this with Ena too… do you secrete some kind of pheromone that attracts these people?”
“It’s just coincidence.”
“I mean… sure, it’s not like the red pill’s going to leak or anything. But still, this is a shock. Baek Seok-gyu and Cha Seong-gyeong’s daughter…”

“I was surprised too.”
“If Darami does want to debut with us, we’d have nothing to lose. From what I saw in Lightning Special City, her RP skills were on a whole different level from most applicants we’ve ever had.”
“Right? ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Even with viewership suddenly multiplying, she didn’t flinch. That’s serious talent.”

“Exactly.”
After a moment of thinking with her chin resting on her hand, the CEO spoke.
“I feel weird saying this name myself, but we could just bring her in like we did with Taro. One of our Gen 2 spots is still open anyway.”

Taro had re-debuted on Bachubachu while keeping his original YouTube channel.
Since the Gen 1 selection was purely internal and didn’t perform well, Gen 2 involved recruiting already popular streamers, and Taro was one of them.
In other words, we didn’t need to make Darami rebuild her channel from scratch just to debut. We could let her keep everything and bring it over as-is.

“Her character doesn’t overlap with anyone else on our roster. There aren’t many people who can pull off the boyish-cute girl thing, so if she’s willing to run with that, it’d be a win for us too.”
Wouldn’t that clash with Orca?
Not really—Orca’s more of a polished, polite military-type in uniform. The target audience’s different.

So if Darami was willing to adapt to Parallel’s style…
The odds of this deal going through were very high.
I nodded and said to the CEO,

“Should I prepare an interview? After checking if she’s interested first.”
“Yeah. Let’s do that. I’ll make time, one way or another.”