I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work - Chapter 115

Hearing the lively words of Majia, not a single Second Generation member dared to ask if she was seriously debuting.

First of all, it had a playful vibe.

Everyone was pretty indifferent about whether Majia debuted or not—not a single care in the world.

The two who were set for their first debut just shrugged, thinking, “I guess it’s up to the company to decide.”

Ena, knowing Majia a bit, thought, “Well, she’s just joking around,” and let it slide.

Yet, it was true that everyone secretly felt a tingle of excitement.

Majia debuting with them?

Newcomers are naturally a big deal, but if the hot topic of Majia is thrown into the mix, the hype would be through the roof!

Plus, if they teamed up, they could fully exploit Majia’s collab cheat code.

Just having her hang out like a manager while helping out the First Generation would be fine, but it felt like a giant gold nugget had just fallen from the sky saying, “Here, take it.”

… Of course, that was just the Second Generation’s point of view.

After the first training session wrapped up, when Majia joined them in the president’s office to discuss the decision made that morning, Cheon Dohui’s eyes went wide.

“What? You’re going to train with the kids from start to finish?”

It had been a while since anyone had seen Majia that astonished. Her fierce gaze was even fiercer now, widened from surprise.

Soon, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Cheon Dohui spoke again.

“Uh, when I joked about you debuting last time, I didn’t mean it. Don’t take it seriously.”

Majia nodded along, shaking her head in agreement.

“It’s not that I’m debuting—it’s just that my streaming time is increasing. But since I’m still a beginner, I have a lot to learn. Plus, with three Second Generations, the vibe feels… curious, so I thought I’d stick around to manage everyone’s morale.”

Cheon Dohui pouted slightly but let it pass, assuming there was a reason Majia felt that way.

She figured there was no chance that someone who had initially refused to debut would suddenly accept again.

“Anyway, understood. Since the program is set for four people anyway, it won’t be an issue if you tag along.”

“Thank goodness.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll take charge of the training while simultaneously joining in?”

“Yeah. I think I can handle that.”

Cheon Dohui gave Majia a gentle pat on the head.

“I really hope you don’t have to debut, though.”

“Why not?”

“While you’d be great on stage, to be honest, you’re an essential employee we can’t do without. First off, if you debut, who’s going to make my industry insights data…?”

Majia squinted at the president with half-closed eyes.

“You managed fine without me before I got hired. Just think of it like going back three years.”

Cheon Dohui, looking like she was about to spiral into a panic, clutched her head.

Though it was just a joke, her acting was so good that it almost seemed sincere.

“If there’s a chance you do debut, by my authority as president, I command you to keep making my industry insights data weekly.”

“Why are you turning this into a real-life black company?”

Majia giggled while heading up to the ninth floor, but Cheon Dohui called her back.

“By the way, are you planning to participate in the training camp this weekend?”

It was a tradition dating back to the First Generation: every VTuber debuting at Parallel had to partake in a two-day training camp with their fellow classmates the first weekend after their training.

Cheon Dohui remembered when she experienced an enormous escape room challenge during her high school trip.

Rain, who struggled with Korean, the slightly edgy Komari, and the nervous Maru found themselves perfectly meshed under the cheerful leadership of Dora—who had a crucial role to play.

Nobody had anticipated that Dora would step up as the leader while Rain would be responsible for actions and mood-making.

What they call the “swaying bridge effect” did wonders.

“Yes! I feel like if I join in all the programs, it might get everyone to take things seriously.”

“Don’t go needing to help the kids because you feel sorry for them. This is a bona fide test, after all.”

“I won’t help! I’ll just mess with them more.”

“Hey! No messing around. It’s not an easy attraction. If you’re not careful, they won’t clear it in time.”

“It’s not like they change the puzzles and set every year. It’s different from last year, so I won’t even have anything to help with.”

Honestly, wouldn’t Miho go wild during an escape room?

She loves deciphering things.

She didn’t even need to communicate anything because when Miho got into detective mode, she turned a bit ordinary.

* * *

The escape room attraction during the first weekend of training was exciting because, before it began, everyone looked at the schedule with great anticipation.

What? An escape room? A massive one at that?

A two-day event? Is that even a thing? They were amazed.

The first week of training had been mostly theoretical, led by the president and the head of HR, so they had been cooped up in a frustrating training room all week. The prospect of going outdoors excited everyone.

And the lectures were nothing short of suffocating.

The president talking about Parallel’s history and roadmap.

The HR head dissecting the management contract item by item.

The finance director explaining profit distribution and tax guidelines.

The planning team leader going over the differences between company projects and personal ones.

I was curious if this kind of stuff would resonate with introverted people, but it turns out, even those who’re introverted prefer a nice home to a stifling training facility.

Back in the First Generation, Maru and Komari were over the moon at the chance to go outside.

So naturally, everyone was incredibly excited as they headed towards the pension and escape room attraction…

But when they arrived, the sheer scale—about the width of a soccer field—shocked them.

While the accommodation fee included a grand banquet, the caveat was if they failed to clear the given missions, they would get a budget meal instead, which shocked them all over again.

Until the sun completely dipped below the mountains, they had to achieve set goals to sleep in the pension; otherwise, they would end up in a tent on the rooftop with sleeping bags and hot packs.

Considering the earlier dusk caused by the mountains, they would have enough sleep time, but they still had to wake up before sunrise on the second day for their missions.

Yet the payoff was substantial.

If they cleared it in time, they could enjoy a warm, delicious breakfast with their friends near a pavilion overlooking the East Sea while watching the sunrise.

It was all hassle and no joke, but experiences like these were rare, and since the pension owner was rich, the prices were lower than the attraction’s scale, resulting in a three-month minimum wait for reservations.

So, no second chances here!

If they wanted a grand banquet, a warm bed, and a meaningful sunrise, they had to band together to overcome hurdles.

Of course, regular folks would pick the easier difficulty aiming for an experience and clear it smoothly…

But as you know, we aimed for that “swaying bridge effect,” so we challenged a hellish difficulty that the pension owner claimed had less than 5% clearance rate.

After hearing that, all the members who had been buzzing about their first outdoor attraction went pale.

The Second Generation, too, trudged in muttering that dinner was a lost cause for them, having looked totally deflated for about ten minutes after arriving.

But Orca snapped back from that moment on, showing a competitive spirit.

“Thinking back to my outdoor training in the military, this is a walk in the park, right? I’m going to give it my all.”

As expected of a disciplined soldier; her assertiveness stood out.

Had Miho been closer to her, maybe there would have been a situation where Miho asked for help while Orca assured her, “Just trust me,” creating a sort of polar bear dilemma.

They were approaching the end of the training week, yet the two were still rather aloof with each other.

When Ena was around, they could somewhat engage in conversation through her, but left alone, it was awkward silence.

Of course, even witnessing that rare glimpse felt special to me.

After all, it highlights the difference between me and the Parallel elite.

You guys can’t see that view.

I get a front-row seat in 3D.

… Actually, wait, this time, since I’m participating, it’s more like 4D.

In the midst of this, Ena shared a story from when Rapitsu first joined, making me chuckle.

“When Rapitsu joined, we only had a week of theoretical training followed by two months of lessons and that was it. And now? I’m positively buzzing! I never expected to be having such fun!”

“So, how did Serena get close with her classmates? That must have taken some time?”

“I put in a lot of effort… The period for preparing for debut wasn’t that short, but everyone was busy with their lessons, so we didn’t have much time to see each other.”

Ena insisted on arranging meals together, even dragging people out for coffee, fulfilling her duties as the self-appointed girl boss.

It’s striking how her first impression as the girl boss echoes even now.

No matter how well-off she is, she truly carried the group.

“I guess everyone got close before the debut, right?”

“It was cutting it close. I met the seniors only about once. It felt like a factory, to be honest—endless song production with no family vibe like Parallel. The seniors were so grateful when I took the initiative to organize gatherings.”

“Even Iona?”

“Yeah. She appreciated it the most. She was so focused on her broadcasting that she didn’t notice I was stepping up to help; she was like, ‘Thank you so much!’”

Ena really had a tough time back then.

But now, she doesn’t need to worry about that.

Just like the First Generation, after having their fun at the escape room attraction today, the Second Generation would undoubtedly start leaning on each other more.

For reference, since the pension was situated a bit higher than the attraction field, the president, along with the team leaders, watched the First Generation carry out the program from above.

I distinctly remember Rain using the F-word over a hundred times that day.

The horrors of the escape room’s hellish difficulty level.

Meanwhile, it was refreshing to see how the Second Generation diligently maintained social distancing even as Ena regularly encouraged everyone.

Considering how tightly the First Generation stuck together before arriving, it all made sense.

Soon the president, along with the team leader, ascended to the pension, and after a brief wait, a woman in her late thirties came over to distribute blindfolds.

She was the wife from the couple running the pension, in charge of the whole attraction guide.

The blindfolded Second Generation train took off on its “choo-choo” adventure, but I found myself trailing behind the pension owner, unable to join the line.

Apparently, my height was too short to avoid tripping and hurting myself.

So we walked over the crunching grass, trudged over a concrete floor, and then ambled over a dirt field…

Finally arriving at the starting point of the attraction, we were allowed to take off our blindfolds.

The last sound I heard was the clanking of steel stairs.

Then, entering indoors, there were strangely creaky noises all around.

“Now, can you all remove your blindfolds? I’ll explain while you look around, and then I’ll be on my way. Everyone bundled up warmly, right? If you need hot packs or warm gear, feel free to grab them from your lockers now.”

I intentionally avoided any relevant information beforehand knowing that the members would overly depend on me if I participated, so I didn’t listen to anything.

I didn’t even check online reviews.

The Second Generation? I only found out they were coming today, which left me no time to research.

As everyone removed their blindfolds from a totally unprepared state, they finally laid eyes on the stage for the escape room.

A stark bed straight out of a drama.

An old-looking desk and mattress stuck to the wall with a worn green blanket.

Ena’s face lit up as she opened the desk and pulled out something resembling a coat—camouflage fabric of mixed green, black, and brown.

While Orca groaned at the sight, the pension owner started explaining.

“Now you must escape from a military base where a zombie crisis has occurred. Safely pass through several checkpoints where zombies might strike at any moment, and reach the survivor gathering point you see over there.”

By the way, the survivor gathering point is the pension we have to reach.

“However, due to limitations at the gathering point, if you fail to arrive on time, you may have to sleep in a tent on the rooftop. Keep that in mind. The program will continue until sunrise tomorrow morning, as per the distributed guidelines. You’ll then have the afternoon free to rest until noon.

Please note, under the hell difficulty level you’ve chosen, no hints will be provided, and you’ll need to clear two more missions than the normal difficulty. So please, keep that in mind. Any questions?”

If a military role-play happens, I doubt I would feel confident, being an outsider.

And if it’s a horror attraction, that’s also a bit tricky, so I raised my hand excitedly.

No matter how brave I am, I wouldn’t want to sh**t someone with a g*n when something suddenly jumps out.

“Uh, will there be a lot of scary surprises?”

The pension owner replied.

“For the hell difficulty, there will be surprises at three locations. As I asked earlier, no one here has a heart condition, right?”

Oh boy.

I should’ve claimed I did!