I Can See a VTuber’s Red Pills - Chapter 28

After the successful showcase, every day felt like a dream to Jeong-ah.

Her streams as the VTuber A-Jeong had gained unprecedented vitality, and working under the "Starlight Project" with her senior Rinne—no, with her unnie Jeong-yeon—was joyful.

Amid the flood of attention and support, the shadows of the past seemed to fade.

Yes, she had truly believed that—until just yesterday.

Last night’s stream had also been a success. Viewer numbers remained high, and praise and donations for her new avatar never stopped.

After ending the stream, she left a thank-you message on her fan cafe and, out of habit, searched for her name and group.

Among the positive reactions, an unfamiliar community link suddenly caught her eye.

― [Domestic VTuber Gallery] Starlight’s A-Jeong’s real face is red pill material lol

Her heart plummeted. Red pill? Her real face? She had vaguely expected such talk after the showcase, but facing it directly made her fingertips turn icy.

With trembling hands, she clicked the link.

The screen was filled with mockery and vitriol directed at her, alongside a photo of a woman she didn’t recognize.

"This is the real face of the A-Jeong you simps worship," "She’s ugly as hell but got a money makeover lol," "Average VTuber looks lol."

Her breath caught. The woman in the photo wasn’t her—she had never seen that person before. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that, once again, baseless malice was aimed at her. Her fingers moved on their own, clicking on other posts.

― [Hakko Streamer Gallery] A-Jeong, Rinne < Didn’t she sleep her way up to Zel'naga?

"Nobodies from Hakko," "Trading her body," "Running to him every night."

Each word stabbed like a dagger through her heart. Her vision blurred, and her stomach churned.

Memories of the past—the nightmare she had tried to forget—resurfaced vividly.

"Hey, Han Jeong-ah, I heard she got around dirty in the past."
"No wonder… She doesn’t own a single luxury item but acts like money’s no issue."
"Someone saw her in Telchon with some old guy, arm in arm…"

University hallways, lecture rooms, even outside professors’ offices—wherever she went, whispers followed.

At first, she tried to explain. To say it wasn’t true. But no one believed her. No, they didn’t want to believe her.

They just wanted a juicy story. The truth didn’t matter.

Close friends drifted away one by one, and even her professor called her in to say, "It’s best not to engage in behavior unbecoming of a student."

As if she had actually done something filthy.

No one was on her side. She felt cast adrift in the world.

Disbelief, betrayal, and a deep disgust toward humanity made her shudder.

In the end, Jeong-ah fled, taking a leave of absence and locking herself in a tiny rented room.

The despair, the suffocating loneliness—it was a memory she never wanted to relive.

"Hng… S-Sob… No… I never… did any of that…"

Uncontrollable sobs burst out. She buried her face in her pillow, curled up on the bed. The showcase’s success, the growing viewership, the new avatar—none of it mattered.

Once again, Jeong-ah was crumbling under the weight of people’s malice.

"Why me… What did I even do wrong…?"

Logically, she knew she should ignore it. Internet hate was just noise. But it wasn’t that simple.

Once trauma took root, it clung relentlessly.

Bzzt—

A messenger notification sounded. It was Jeong-yeon.

[Rinne (Yoo Jeong-yeon)]: A-Jeong! Whatcha doin’? You know we gotta go to the CEO’s place tomorrow for the contract stuff, right? Let’s grab something tasty when you get here! (ง •̀ω•́)ง

The company. The contract. The day she’d finally meet Zel'naga in person.

She couldn’t face him like this. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

[A-Jeong]: I’m not feeling well… I’ll be there on time tomorrow…

She forced a casual reply, but her fingers still trembled.

Jeong-yeon sent back a worried response, but Jeong-ah couldn’t bring herself to explain. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this—pitiful and broken.

That night, Jeong-ah lay awake until dawn. In the darkness, the ghosts of the past and the hateful comments of the present twisted together, tormenting her.

Closing her eyes brought back the sneering faces; opening them made the malicious words on her screen swim before her.

She felt trapped in an inescapable mire.

---

The next morning, Jeong-yeon reached out. She said A-Jeong seemed off—her replies were terse, her energy drained.

She even wondered aloud if Jeong-ah had seen the posts.

"Obvious," I replied shortly.

She’d shown that temperament once before on stream—denying, insisting she wasn’t like that.

Maybe she had her own trauma I didn’t know about.

If she’d seen those posts yesterday, it was no wonder she was breaking down.

[Rinne (Yoo Jeong-yeon)]: Should we postpone the contract? A-Jeong doesn’t seem well…

[Seo Ha-joon]: No. Proceed as scheduled. Just tell her to come on time—I’ll handle the rest.

Some annoyances were worth the trouble.

If it was about A-Jeong, it wasn’t an annoyance at all. It was concern.

Especially if the damage came from outside.

Since we were meeting for the contract anyway, I decided to assess her state firsthand and take action if needed.

At the appointed time, Jeong-ah arrived at the penthouse with Jeong-yeon.

Waiting outside the study, I saw her—paler, more fragile than usual. She forced a smile, but the corners of her lips quivered, and her eyes darted anxiously.

To me, her instability was glaring. Not just her appearance, but the turmoil beneath—the fear, the sorrow.

This wasn’t how I wanted our first meeting to be.

I had waited, anticipated meeting A-Jeong.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the sofa instead of diving into the contract. Jeong-yeon guided her down, and I took the seat across.

"This is our first time meeting in person, right?"
"Y-Yes? Ah, yes…"

I kept my tone gentle, but she still seemed uneasy.

"Did you see the posts from yesterday?"

Beating around the bush wasn’t my style. I asked directly.

Her shoulders jerked, then slumped. A faint tremor ran through her.

"...Yes."

Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile as if she might cry any second.

"Why go looking for that? More people say good things about you. You’re not the type to handle hate well."

I meant it as comfort, but my bluntness made her shake harder. Jeong-yeon fidgeted, glancing at me nervously.

Ah. I’d gotten too worked up.

I wasn’t used to this. I’d never learned how to comfort someone.

"I… It’s just… something similar happened before… I was… so hurt back then… S-Sob…"

Finally, the dam broke. Jeong-yeon rubbed her back, but the tears didn’t stop.

I watched for a moment, then stood and retrieved a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge, placing it before her.

"Drink. Calm down first."

She nodded shakily and took the bottle.

I sat back, thinking. What now?

"A-Jeong."

I softened my voice as much as I could.

"I don’t know what happened in the past, but it’s different now."

"......"

"You’re not alone. I’m here. Jeong-yeon’s here. CEO Yoon’s here. And you have countless fans who support you. The trash spewing nonsense online? They’re outnumbered."

Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes were still red, but she seemed slightly calmer.

"Those fabrications? CEO Yoon’s already gathering evidence to sue. Every last one of them. Keyboard warriors hiding behind anonymity—this time, they’ll learn their lesson."

I exaggerated slightly. Legal action was tricky, but I wanted her to feel secure.

"And… our company building’s almost done. Security’s airtight—no outsiders. You can stream there safely. If needed, we’ll set you up with a place and a studio, like Jeong-yeon."

I listed every reassurance I could. Safety, protection—things money could buy. The best promise I could make.

"So… don’t suffer alone. Just keep smiling, streaming, singing—doing what you love. I’ll handle the rest."

Maybe it was calculated. Maybe I just didn’t want my prized collection tarnished.

But in that moment, I genuinely wanted her to stop hurting.

I wanted her brilliance to stay untainted by darkness.

Did it work? Jeong-ah finally wiped her tears and met my gaze. Fear still lingered, but beneath it—a flicker of hope. And something deeper: trust.

"...Will it really be okay?"
"There’s no reason it shouldn’t be."

For the first time, I offered her a faint smile.

"But to protect you properly, we need to end this cleanly. Starting with this."

I slid the contract across the table—the original purpose of today.

Yet now, it felt insignificant.

Instead, it felt like a new tether between us, anchoring her wavering heart.

Jeong-yeon quietly began explaining the terms, and I watched in silence.

Today, my relationship with A-Jeong had begun shifting—beyond owner and collection, toward something else entirely.