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

Effort is a kind of talent.
To see results from any effort, it requires an immense investment of time—and not many people can endure that long stretch of time.
That’s exactly why the “hardworking underdog” becomes idolized by others. Because they achieve something others couldn’t, or had given up on—an icon of human perseverance.
But sometimes, a certain type of person appears that completely shocks these very underdogs.
That person is the hardworking genius.
Someone who puts in similar effort—yet pulls ahead far faster. Someone who still seems relaxed, even while pushing forward, and can’t be caught no matter what.
From the perspective of those chasing them, it’s like facing a monster—no, a monster beyond monsters. To be honest, they’re the worst kind of rival to have.
And one of those hardworking geniuses was Magia.
“Kyaahahahahahah!! Are you all idiots? While you were flailing around, I already finished everything I had to do!!”
Mr. Kang, a voice coach who had worked as a voice actor for over 20 years before retiring due to vocal cord issues, and who was later invited to Mimax as a recording guide, couldn’t help but be surprised.
“Goodbye, morons. Go rot in hell together with your precious master!”
People say acting insane is easier than other roles—but is she a true mad criminal who feels no fear? Or someone pretending to be crazy out of fear? Or maybe someone fundamentally good, who still feels guilt while causing chaos?
Once you break it down, it’s not that simple.
And when someone can’t act? Their “crazy person” act is glaringly obvious. It ends up being a half-hearted “I’m pretending to be insane” act—forced and fake.
“Come now, let’s enjoy the banquet of despair together!! Kyahaha!!”
Usually, when someone voices a character for the first time, they can’t even distinguish these types of details and end up flailing.
But Magia—who was supposed to just be starting her “real” practice today—already seemed to understand all this, and came in well-prepared.
Sure, it might seem strange for her “real training” to begin today, when Mimax had given her two days to settle into the recording studio.
But there was a reason Mr. Kang, who usually worked solo, had been called in as a voice coach this time.
Because every single Parallel member taking on voice acting for this project was a first-timer.
If you look back at how the other members’ recording sessions went over the past few weeks, it makes sense.
They came in nervous or shy for the first few days. And for the rest of the sessions, they struggled to maintain consistent tone and delivery.
Mr. Kang’s role was to calm them down, reassure them, point out when their tone shifted, guide them by saying “Try softening your delivery here,” or “Let’s open up your vocal projection in this part.”
But Magia? She was already about 80% complete—without any of that guidance.
In this industry, when professional voice actors take on a game character role like this—usually considered minor work—it takes about two weeks from script reading to full recording.
And Magia looked like she could wrap it up within that same timeframe.
“How was it?”
“For a first day, it was excellent.”
“Really? That’s a relief.”
Magia smiled a little at the compliment.
But soon, a slightly disappointed expression crossed her face as she said:
“But… I don’t know how to explain it. Even though you said it was great, I feel like I didn’t really capture Loro’s philosophy that’s embedded in the story.”

“That’s okay. Starting tomorrow, just follow my direction. Everyone’s vocal style is different, so I’ll be adjusting things as we go.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And sometimes in game story development, the script or direction gets adjusted based on how the voice acting comes out. So don’t worry too much.”
“Ah… hearing that really puts my mind at ease. Thank you, Coach.”
Like he said, he’d need to keep giving her direction—but Mr. Kang had the sense that even if Magia were left alone, she’d eventually find the peak performance on her own—it would just take her longer.
After all, standing in front of a mic, in front of people, and painting an entire scene with nothing but your voice while reading from a script—isn’t something just anyone can do.
Most people flinch midway through out of embarrassment.
But Magia? She didn’t show the slightest sign of nervousness. 
If she wasn’t satisfied, she’d just go, “Cut. Let me do it again.”
“This isn’t it,” she’d say—like breaking and remolding a piece of pottery until it was right.
Of course, because she tried to handle everything on her own, it took a bit longer than necessary. But from the perspective of Mr. Kang, who’d been in this industry for years—watching her silently struggle like that was endearing.
He wanted to help, but worried that stepping in would break her concentration, so he held back.
Still, Mr. Kang couldn’t afford to be on standby for too long.
“At this pace, when do you think you’ll finish?”
Magia was notoriously busy.
Once she gave her all to finish this job, she’d need to jump right back into her main work.
She had even bowed her head and apologized before they began recording:
“If anything needs feedback, please tell me directly. I’m okay with harsh criticism—even if it feels like getting whipped. This might sound out of line, but I really want to finish this as quickly and perfectly as possible so I can return to my main job.”
“Thank you for understanding. I’ll do my best.”
Mr. Kang shrugged.
“Worst case, two weeks? Best case, we’re done within one.”
“That fast?”
The Manae Festival was set to open two weeks from now, on the weekend. If she could wrap this up early, Magia might be able to help with the festival work too—so for her, finishing within two weeks was ideal.
“If we can finish in two weeks, that would be perfect. But the other members took about four, didn’t they?”
“You’re already halfway there. If you follow my instructions quickly, we’ll be done in a week. Even if you fumble a bit, two weeks max. More than that, you’re busy, right? Since you want to stay on schedule, I’ll do everything I can to help too.”
Magia bowed deeply.
“I might’ve made an unreasonable request, so thank you again for understanding.”
“Come on now, you already thanked me earlier. Anyway—let’s give it our best starting tomorrow. I’m starting to feel fired up too.”
“Yes.”
***
The recording continued for one full week.
And Magia succeeded in completing her goal in just seven days.
Mr. Kang’s earlier prediction—that if things went well, it could be finished in under a week—had landed right on the mark.
To be honest, even Mr. Kang was surprised. It’s rare to find a rookie who, when given feedback, can absorb it fast enough to complete things the same day at best, or the next day at worst.
It felt like she must’ve received some kind of training since childhood. So, approaching Magia as she packed up with a satisfied expression, he couldn’t help but ask:
“Did you, by chance, start acting practice when you were young?”
Magia touched her chin, thinking.
It didn’t feel right to call it acting “practice,” exactly—but she had grown up watching something since she was a baby.
“My dad’s a film actor. And my mom runs his agency. When I was little, I used to sit on his lap and watch him rehearse at home quite a lot, so… maybe that’s why.”
“Huh?”
Mr. Kang asked again—wondering if /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ it might be someone he knew.
“Would you happen to know what kind of films he appeared in?”
But Magia didn’t know the titles.
Her parents never really told her what projects he worked on. And she hadn’t paid much attention herself.
She didn’t want to ask questions like, “Is our family doing okay?” or “Is Dad not getting any gigs?”
She had just assumed the family’s financial situation had gotten rough. That maybe her dad’s acting jobs or her mom’s business weren’t going well.
So rather than asking directly, she had acted first.
As soon as she entered high school, she told her parents and went out of her way to find a part-time job so she could become independent.
Her parents let her go, albeit reluctantly. But they weren’t able to give her direct support until she graduated.
At most, they’d send her side dishes or homemade food every now and then.
That’s how tough things had been financially.
These days, her parents were the ones saying things like, “Should we send you some pocket money?”
So things had probably gotten a lot better for them.
Even so, Magia had already gotten used to being solely responsible for everything.
Like she’d become an adult three years earlier than everyone else.
“Sorry. I don’t actually know anything about his films.”
“Well, then that can’t be helped. Still… so you’re the daughter of a film actor, huh? That makes sense. Right, of course—otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for someone to just suddenly have this kind of talent.”
She’d seen so much over the years and built up a massive amount of accumulated data. She’d run mental simulations countless times based on that. And she used that knowledge when giving advice to other members too.
Maybe that’s why she was able to finish in just one week. …Or so she thought about saying.
But going into all that would just sound like she was bragging.
So Magia just let it go with: “Yeah, it’s because I’m a film actor’s daughter.”
Even Darami, who’d been with her nonstop the past two weeks, said she’d attended acting academies as a kid because of her parents.
In the end, it wasn’t wrong to say that what Magia had seen growing up—plus her natural instincts—had shaped who she was now.
“Thank you. I still need to work harder.”
Either way, from Mr. Kang’s perspective, a rookie like this was more than welcome.
If possible, he hoped Magia would take on another similar job someday.
Watching her grow—might just become one of the little joys left for Mr. Kang, now retired from professional vocal coaching.
“I hope I get to see you again through another voice acting gig.”
Magia, having packed up all her things, grinned brightly and replied:
“As long as the money’s right, offers like that are always welcome. Thank you for saying that.”