Now That I Have Become a Woman, I Am a Vtuber - Chapter 144

[“Miro’s live again, lol.”]
But she’s playing Three Kingdoms again.
–For f***’s sake.
–Why is it always Three Kingdoms?

[“Miro, stop slacking off and row the boat!”]
While the other Celestial Realm members are churning their motors, she’s just sitting there.
–Seriously, why isn’t she rowing?
–Still, Miro’s growth rate is #1.
  ㄴ She could grow even more, but she won’t.
–Maybe she’s doing this to weed out trolls?
  ㄴ Why would she do that?
    ㄴ Because there’s been so much trolling.

[“The only reason we forgive Miro’s Three Kingdoms obsession.”]
(Miro at a party, photo.)
Her face alone makes you smile, lol.
–So true.
–Forget the drunk pics; I want to see her regular ones.

While Miro’s Three Kingdoms campaign sparked debates in her community, a new announcement from the Celestial Realm café dropped an even bigger topic: the official debut of the 2nd-generation members.

[“What’s this about?”]
(Celestial Realm announcement.)
2nd-gen is officially here!
–For real?
  ㄴ Yep.
–Finally dropping?
–They’ve been teasing it for a while.

[“Can the 2nd-gen outshine Miro?”]
(Photo of Miro at a gathering.)
All of them combined vs. Miro. Winner: Miro – upvote.
“Nonsense!” – downvote.
–Bro, you’re using a cheat code.
–Miro is so ahead, even all of Celestial Realm combined struggles to match her.
  ㄴ Is Miro really that far ahead?
    ㄴ Just look at her face, man.

The 2nd-gen debut was finally here.
With the recent buzz from the year-end live and my original song, Tranquil Lake, expectations were sky-high for the new members.

Naturally, our Celestial Realm group chat was abuzz with chatter about the newcomers.
Dissatisfied with the quiet days after the year-end live and dance lessons wrapped up, Anna had summoned everyone to a café. The topic of the day? The 2nd-gen debut.

“Check this out,” Anna said, showing her phone.

The 2nd-gen concepts were sleek and cohesive, unlike our mismatched 1st-gen group. While we were plucked from open auditions and had vastly different styles, the 2nd-gen members leaned into the celestial theme.

Their designs featured angelic elements—halos, wings, and modern outfits mixed with ethereal touches. Each member had a defined role, like Harbin, a rapper who supposedly descended from the heavens to embrace modern music.

It was a stark contrast to us. My horns and “little devil” persona felt haphazard, and Anna’s “European village girl” aesthetic didn’t help our group cohesion either.

“Wow, their concept looks solid,” Anna admitted.
“Yeah, unlike us,” I added dryly.

Six members, the same number as the 1st-gen. It made sense—they probably wanted parity between the generations. The synergy was apparent, and they genuinely looked like a cohesive unit.

“This looks promising. Couldn’t we do collabs with them?” Anna said, clearly excited.

Our self-proclaimed “lonely old lady” was thrilled about getting juniors. As for me, I wasn’t sure. Most of the 2nd-gen members were older than me, except for one.
How should I address them? Would it mess up the hierarchy if I used honorifics?

“Who do you guys find interesting? Pick one,” Anna asked, shifting the focus.

While I mulled over the potential hierarchy issues, the other members casually chimed in.

“I like this one. They look cheerful.”
“I’m into the cute one over here.”
“Harbin seems talented—I saw one of their streams before.”

Then Anna turned to me.
“By the way, Suhyun, didn’t you meet some 2nd-gen members for a mentoring session? Who stood out to you?”

I hesitated. That mentoring session was something I’d planned to take to my grave. But since they were asking…

“Harbin and Seo Eunha.”
“What were they like? You didn’t tell us before.”

Eunha? How could I describe her?

“She was… intimidating.”
“Really? She looks like the cutesy type.”
“Well… not really. She’s just… different. We don’t have anyone like her in our group.”

We had characters like Roa, who appeared sweet but had a sharp wit. But Eunha had a different kind of intensity—a quiet, unsettling focus.

“Wow, if Miro found her intimidating, she must be something else.”
“Seriously, Suhyun, scared of someone? That’s a first.”
“Hey, cut it out.”

They were joking, of course, but I felt my image slipping.

“Anyway, she’s not a bad person. Just… intense.”

I didn’t know her well, but I guessed she was kind at heart. She struck me as the type who cared a lot about what others thought—at least offline.

“Guess we’ll have to meet her to find out.”
“Good to know she’s not mean, at least.”

“She probably won’t intimidate you guys. You’re not her focus.”

From what I could tell, Eunha was a hardcore Miro fan. While that might make her endearing to the others, her intensity might be aimed squarely at me.

Brushing off their curious looks, I sipped my drink.
The debut was really happening. Time flew by.

With the year-end live over, I still had a packed schedule. There was Hyunsu’s album release, my collaboration with Composer Kang Woo-hyun, and a potential single release this quarter. Not to mention the random events that kept popping up.

As for the 2nd-gen, they seemed relaxed and optimistic. Maybe I was a little envious of their fresh start.

“When’s their debut?”
“It’s soon. They’re doing individual launches, one at a time.”
“That’s smart. It keeps the audience focused.”
“Right? And they might even collab with us.”

“Do you think so?”
“Of course! We’re their seniors—it’s our job to support them.”

During our debut, we had no seniors to guide us, so we leaned on big-name YouTubers, many of whom were men.
But things were different now.

The 2nd-gen might look to us for support.
And honestly? I was ready to lend a hand.

If they succeeded, the influx of 2nd-gen fans could spill over to us, creating a growing ecosystem. That was the idea, anyway.

Celestial Realm was building a pipeline—1st-gen, 2nd-gen, 3rd-gen, and beyond. With each generation, the fanbase would snowball. Someday, just being part of Celestial Realm could guarantee thousands of viewers.

Would that future come? Who knew.
But for now, the 1st-gen had paved the way. If the 2nd-gen succeeded, the rest would have it easier.

That day, we spent hours discussing the 2nd-gen at the café before heading home.

When I got back, I flopped onto my bed, exhausted.
Just as I relaxed, my phone buzzed.

[Su-hyun! We’re leaving tomorrow morning, right?]

It was a message from Tenshi-san.
I replied and glanced at the suitcase sitting in the corner of my room.

Tomorrow, I’d be off to Japan again.

This time, to help Tenshi-san.
And maybe sneak in some sightseeing while I was at it.