I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work - Chapter 126

Majia knew that even if Orca wobbled a bit, she’d bounce back to her usual composed self in no time.

The interview evaluation form even had a note that read, “Her usual cuteness comes out when her personality crumbles.” That was a rare scene crafted when Dohee and the personnel manager decided to crank up the pressure during the interview.

However, Orca was the kind of person who took her sweet time recovering once she fell apart. In fact, Miho, who wasn’t shy about throwing out some strong language, had a better recovery rate.

Of course, it could also be because Majia had her sights set on pushing Orca to her limits.

— Live broadcast prep: The broadcast is literally bending

— So the soldiers liked it because it was cute, huh?

— It’s frustrating and pitiful, but she doesn’t do anything mean, so we’re just worried about the poor girl, haha.

“Come on… not like this… Huh, seriously, I could go crazy…”

But even this complete inability to recover was a surprise.

Majia figured it out pretty quickly, though—Orca would be whining and dragging her feet, holding on to equipment that just didn’t work.

So Jia, like last time with Miho, immediately pulled the plug on the broadcast and issued a yellow card.

“Orca, imagine I’ll be there to fix the equipment in ten minutes, so from now on, just chat with the viewers.”

“… Okay.”

Sure enough, Orca cleared her throat and jumped straight into chat mode.

— Is the waste-of-space show finally over?

“The waste-of-space show hasn’t even started!”

Just one comment and Orca was a whole new person.

— The equipment is still dead though, sad face.

— The equipment caught the waste-of-space virus.

— The host is useless, so the equipment must be, too.

— The equipment is innocent! Why are you calling it out?

“Oh. It’s not dead. I did CPR, so it’ll be back to life when Jia gets here.”

— C?PR

— Wasn’t that a d*ath sentence?

“Not at all!”

She seemed as light as a feather, as if she had laid down that massive burden she had been carrying. It made one wonder what made her change so much, but ultimately, it was about responsibility.

Orca was a soldier, and if she failed, the whole command would hear about it. She had likely lived through that for several years.

Assuming she had watched the Parallel broadcasts, she probably knew that even if a similar situation occurred in reality, Majia would arrive within 30 minutes to solve the problem. But could she just pass off the issue she mishandled to Majia and focus on the viewers?

That felt like a choice Orca would spit out, no matter how much you spoon-fed it to her.

In some ways, it was like making a mistake and blaming it on a superior.

She might use casual language and refer to Majia as a peer, but in Orca’s eyes, Majia was still a notch above her.

A senior, the head manager of the operations team, the hotline with the president, the behind-the-scenes puppet master, and a figure whose career could go off the rails if you touched the wrong buttons (like a military “Star Son”), etc.

During her three years in a highly vertical power dynamic, Orca could come up with an endless number of ways to describe Majia.

In fact, even while casually talking, Majia could sense that strange air between them that made her realize how Orca saw her.

After all, the way Majia treated other VTubers felt a lot like how Orca treated her.

Anyway, Orca managed to hold the fort down for a solid 10 minutes.

Once Majia stood up and fiddled with some broadcast equipment, resetting the settings back to normal, the previously unresponsive mic sprang to life, and the unresponsive tablet started working again.

Despite Orca’s random tinkering having messed up the settings, everything fell back into place without any hassle.

Watching the broadcast environment tidy itself up, Orca couldn’t help but express her awe.

“Manager, you’re the best!”

Majia, taken aback by the spontaneous compliment, couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was her survival mechanism from her military days.

When you didn’t excel at something, you had to figure it out somehow, and there was no place like the military where a little flattery could go a long way.

Orca was tall and had long black hair, which might intimidate some, but when she was in a tight spot or needed to flatter someone, she was downright adorable.

That’s probably why the soldiers suggested she try being a VTuber.

…But today, Majia’s role was to relentlessly push Orca to her limits, which meant cuteness overload wasn’t on the agenda.

— What, you’re really useless.

— If your senior doesn’t help, you can’t do anything, haha.

— Put the yellow epaulettes on your shoulders already!

“Oh come on, what yellow epaulettes? The only yellow epaulettes I wore were duty epaulettes!!”

— Prove you’re not worthless if you feel wronged! (5 points)

— Honestly, I feel like I was less useless after a month of basic training, lol.

“Well, at least I… um, in the year I discharged… I was still… kinda an ace…”

— Haha, sounds like you can’t remember anything at all?

— So what kind of ace were you, huh?

— Apparently you were a pirate who got punched by lava and had a hole in your stomach!

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: Starting to think you might really be useless, haha. ::

“Not even close!”

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: The way you’re yelling makes it seem like you might actually be useless. ::

“…No, I’m not.”

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: Your lack of confidence screams useless. ::

“…”

— Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless!

— Admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it!

— Everyone’s saying you’re useless except you, haha.

— Oof, just oof.

Eventually, with the chat flooding in like a tidal wave of insults, Orca couldn’t take it anymore and completely crumbled.

“Whaah… I’m… I’m so useless. I can’t help but be useless…”

Usually, people have to rev up before they cry, but this time it just burst open, leaving Ena and Miho dumbfounded.

Majia decided to poke the bear one last time.

— Sigh, it’s clear you’ll have an easy military life with that mindset, haha.

— You probably just cried without ever doing anything worthwhile.

— Tsk, tsk, tsk.

— We see you, we see you.

The crying only grew louder, and there were no signs of stopping.

“Whaaa—!!!”

In the meantime, Majia quickly jotted down some evaluations, causing Ena and Miho to look more tense than ever.

If one were to interpret the expressions they wore, it might read something like ‘This isn’t human…’.

– Usually, she suppresses her tears.

– She seemed like she wanted to cry from the moment the equipment malfunctioned but held it in pretty well.

– It’s almost safer to cry when it’s already broken, because nothing changes.

Once she finished writing, Majia went over to console the now-sobbing Orca, patting her back.

“Calm down. If you’re like this during practice, what will you do in the real world? The viewers catch on very quickly. They’ll all figure out you’re a broadcast rookie and start throwing those useless jabs at you!”

“Ugh, um, I… I thought… but I… um… huh, am just… too… out of it…”

Seeing such a vulnerable side of someone who usually had their act together is a crucial factor in making Orca’s potential fanbase turn into core fans.

Once she shows it, it spreads across the community under titles like “The Hidden Charm of a VTuber.” Just like that, people will be drawn to Orca’s persona.

However, if she shows it too often, its rarity diminishes. Seeing her cry like this might make fans eventually feel uncomfortable and struggle to say something at some point.

After all, there are moments when they want to see both Orca’s strong and weak sides, and they’ll tactfully want to balance reserve and offense accordingly.

And crucially, there should be a certain level of toughness to make it worth pursuing.

If she crumbles so easily to being called useless, that’s a problem.

“Being useless is nothing to be ashamed of; what’s the issue there? You’re not a soldier anymore. If people label you as useless, just be bold about it! Being a VTuber, the more ‘useless’ you are, the stronger you seem in this job!”

“Whaaaaa…..”

“And how could a person be flawless at everything? I’m the useless of all useless when it comes to physical skills.”

With a height of 140cm, there’s so much I can’t do.

It’s downright remarkable how my arms ache after holding a showerhead for just a moment!

Whether it was psychological victory therapy or simply Majia’s words, Orca gradually managed to compose herself again.

The speed at which she stopped crying was just as fast as that of her tears, which was oddly intriguing.

Could this be what military spirit is about—shutting off a turned-on faucet with sheer willpower?

…Well, that was something Majia, who wasn’t aware of a single military basic, pondered.

* * *

While Orca didn’t change immediately after that, it seemed that the words about needing to lighten up made a difference. As broadcasts continued, she began to show more and more signs of growth.

Maybe facing all that label of being useless had made an impact.

She handled Majia’s cheeky comments as they paused and resumed the broadcast multiple times with surprising ease.

— So today, is the content just preparing for the broadcast?

“No! Just wait a little bit. This time, I promise it’ll be done quickly.”

— Honestly, if I were your senior, I’d have kicked you already.

— Useless among the useless, huh?

“I’ll only accept that I’m useless until we finish prepping for the broadcast. Go ahead, roast me. And also, I’ve never been reprimanded. Once that happens, it’s straight to speaking from the heart!”

— Honestly, I thought you were talking to some neighborly old man, so I sneaked my casual chat in.

— Good luck not being yelled at by a colonel!

Even going as far as to weave some utter nonsense seamlessly into the convo.

“I’ve talked back to a general, so what’s a colonel to me?”

— Totally nuts.

— How does one flip a unit like that, wow.

“Unless you look like a nice old neighbor who can navigate the mountains, it’s not my fault if you’re wrong.”

With the broadcast steady, Orca’s tearful moments became less and less frequent, to the point where it didn’t even need commenting on anymore.

At this rate, she’d probably tear up once every two weeks, and as she gained more broadcasting experience, that cycle would likely elongate.

Finally feeling relieved, Majia decided to tone down the relentless pressure and started sharing hilarious military stories, knowing she’d gain a kick out of Orca’s reactions.

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: Whenever the codfish came out, I’d take the water to the senior, and then secretly swap plates with the squad leader, pretending to eat since the squad leader never finished their codfish, haha! ::

“Too cute.”

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: When my senior ran out of shampoo, they used mine, so until they discharged, I was using their shampoo, haha! ::

“Really, buy your own shampoo….”

:: Anonymous supporter donated 1,000 clouds! ::

:: I got stuck cleaning the officer’s mess, and while sliding with a wet mop, I was like, ‘Triple Axel!’ and ended up breaking the commander’s tooth with my head, but that’s still better! ::

“Eeeeeek! You’re insane! Absolutely insane!”

Now that’s a juicy reaction.

If this became a regular segment, it could gather a lot of traction among veterans.

Of course, Majia wasn’t a veteran, so she found some situations relatable, but she might still need some input from active veterans on that front.

Ultimately, both Miho and Orca made efforts within a day to overcome their shortcomings, and they showed actual results.

Little did Majia know, the reason they were so desperate was not purely about wanting a cool debut.

It was more about wishing Majia, who had been twirling them around, to experience the same.

It’s like when you scoot around under the thumb of a sadistic senior and find yourself itching to repay them in kind someday.

Thus, the course quickly wrapped up, and Friday became an empty slate.

On Friday morning, as expected, it was Majia’s turn.

The second-generation crew was so excited about getting to tease Majia that they had brought several sheets of chat samples written on A4 paper.

Majia walked past the giggling second-generation members and took her seat at the hastily prepared broadcast desk without making a fuss.

Seeing her in an almost transcendental way made Miho chuckle and say, “Heh… have you given up? Like accepting any attack thrown at you?”

Majia merely shrugged her shoulders and explained what she was about to do.

“I’ll play my part until lunch break. Go ahead, whatever you throw at me is fine. If it’s something usually banned on broadcasts, that’s cool too. I wrote those nasty comments assuming you guys would do that.”

Ena half-closed her eyes and warned her.

“Jia, don’t take this too lightly. We prepared a lot.”

Orca didn’t exactly say anything, but among the three, she had the thickest stack of prepared paper.

As if to say, “Here’s your punishment for making me sob like this.”

So Majia began her broadcast.

[Fantasia (April 2025)]

#Parallel #Majia #Another

“Huh? Fantasia?”

“Ehh…?”

“?”

The mock broadcast content was what she loved most or felt most confident about.

So Majia brought in draft content that reviewed clips from the first-generation members.

Since there was no time or energy to create new content, she realized that this was the very content she was most confident in and already rolled out every month.

The second-generation members, who had assumed she’d bring something regarding Momo, were left stunned.

After all, nasty behavior had to be fitting to the content for it to mean something!

By doing this, all prepared nasty comments related to Momo would be rendered useless.

“Yeah, Momo hardly streams anymore, right? Haha, right?” “Momo only rode on Movgun’s bus, LOL.” “Honestly, isn’t Majia lately just Momo’s replacement? ^start-zip^” and so on—it was as if all their well-prepared material was overnight garbage.

But they couldn’t complain to Majia about it since each second-gen member only revealed their content on the very day.

In fact, their nasty comments had all come up on the spot, and they had no file or materials prepared. How could they call her out for running away under the first-generation content protections?

“—Alright, then let’s dive into April’s clips!”

Thus, the second-generation crew had no choice but to make do with on-the-fly nasty comments.

Miho, who was the most confident in her snark, initiated the onslaught, focusing on a clip of Rain showing off her talents in Soul Squad.

— So Rain is better at backroll than Momo, huh? Haha.

Seeing that, the other two quickly joined in with their comments.

— Honestly, Momo just rode on Majia’s bus, haha.

— She rubbed shoulders with Movgun too, right? Haha.

Majia looked at the comments with a deadpan expression, rendering the second-generation crew speechless, and said:

“To be honest, I think Rain is genuinely better these days. You’re sharp, but it’s clear it was a ride on my bus and never the opposite…”

“?”

“…?”

With more words, she solidified her standing.

“And it was Movgun who leaned on the boss, not the other way around. This is evident in ancient texts, like the ones in Goguryeo. If Movgun feels wronged, he could come on our broadcast to set the record straight.”

Seemingly a counterattack, it didn’t stop there.

Majia had just awarded Movgun a major loss with that comment.

Not just any loss—one that left the possibility for creating an issue through collaboration!

The second-gen crew tried various approaches to get under Majia’s skin, but each attempt met with failure.

— Honestly, Momo doesn’t really stream much these days anymore; it might be time for graduation.

“Not bad. I’d only be seen in the company, so it would be a big win for me.”

— Momo is really broken in the real world; she’s just a VTuber, huh? Haha.

“… Kueh. Oh, that wasn’t a laugh. I get it, you might feel that way. First, get banned, and I’ll be the only one who gets to see the boss in real life.”

— I think I prefer Jia over Momo these days.

“I like the boss more than the viewers too!”

Talk about a fortress with no weak points.

Majia didn’t budge an inch against their clumsy attempts.

This meant zero ignored comments.

Responding sharply to every attack, there wasn’t anything said that would raise flags for the broadcast.

Finally, the entire second-gen crew surrendered.

Ena, who had been the temporary captain of the attack today, bowed her head and said, “We lose… it was a complete defeat…”

Majia added to that with a comment that left the second-gen speechless.

“But the more we talk about the boss, the more it stings a bit.”

“…?”

This was said by someone who had spent four whole hours without changing their expression.