I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work-Chapter 87

The truth was, Cheon Do-hee had already gotten close to figuring things out.

“...I just had this thought—what if someone suddenly tries to recruit you out of nowhere?”

She hadn’t said that randomly.

She had already heard things.

[Eona: It seems like our operations team leader made some kind of proposal to Gia.]

[Eona: I figured just saying it wouldn’t be enough, so I recorded my conversation with her.]

[Eona: I’m still not completely sure, so please listen and decide for yourself.]

[Eona: (Audio Recording 202412290001)]

[Eona: I think competition is natural, but I don’t want people to start fighting over stuff like this...]

Magia had denied it.

But there had definitely been some kind of offer.

After all, Magia was someone who could easily flip a situation when cornered—by going on the offensive and escaping cleanly.

And if she had deliberately poked at Eona’s weak spot to render their conversation invalid?

That was as good as confirmation.

Before arriving at the venue and meeting Magia, Do-hee had also contacted Kang Ji-ho to ask about Yeon Sung-mook.

And the response was interesting.

[Kang Ji-ho: Yeon Sung-mook? Oh, so that’s where he ended up. He’s with Lapits now?]

“You know him?”

[Yeah. When he was at VIRDESS, he was a pretty well-known recruiter. He was really good at talking girls into signing contracts—his numbers were great.]

[But then he messed up somehow, and they basically shoved him over to Lapits. Feels like a demotion. And him becoming an operations team leader? Probably just to keep him inside because he kept screwing up in the field.]

...What if his "mess-up" had been something exactly like this?

Not illegal tampering, but an ethically questionable recruitment attempt.

If it stayed under wraps, it would be considered an aggressive but successful poaching move.

But if it got exposed? It could tank the company’s image.

It was a high-risk, high-reward strategy.

And a particularly sly one.

After all, how many people would immediately think to record a conversation the moment they received a sudden debut offer?

If Parallel took this to Lapits’ leadership, it could easily turn into a messy, drawn-out battle with no solid proof.

And what if Sung-mook’s boss was in on it?

That would escalate things into an all-out war.

Publicizing the issue wasn’t an option.

Even if Parallel won, they’d take collateral damage from people accusing them of dragging public opinion into corporate disputes.

Do-hee considered another possibility.

What if Gia had deliberately shut things down to prevent the situation from escalating?

She was a little annoyed that Gia hadn’t told her, despite promising to discuss anything important.

But knowing her...

She’d probably rather contain the damage than let things spiral into a Lapits vs. Parallel disaster.

‘...I’ll wait until Yeon Sung-mook tries again.’

Even if the company heads wanted to settle this quietly, they still needed hard proof.

For now, the best move was to be patient.

If Gia was thinking along the same lines, she wouldn’t block Sung-mook’s next approach.

And that would be the perfect time to catch him in the act.

Or maybe...

Gia would just handle it herself.

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Cheon Do-hee trusted that Magia would never leave Parallel.

...But.

That past conversation—when Gia had mentioned quitting—still lingered in her mind.

[Me: Eona.]

[Me: If you hear anything else about this, could you let me know right away?]

A little insurance wouldn’t hurt.

[Eona: Of course!]

Thanks to Gia, they now had a direct line of communication with Lapits.

But stealing core talent?

Absolutely not.

***

"So, uh... I kind of just blurted out informal speech earlier. Mind if I just talk casually?"

Lupko suddenly stopped in the middle of the walkway and turned to me, asking out of nowhere.

It wasn’t that he had bad manners—it was just that, at a glance, I really looked like a kid.

Even I questioned it whenever I looked in the mirror while getting ready for work.

"How is this body twenty-four years old?"

If I thought that, then what about other people?

And today, I had been fully styled by Momo herself.

If someone actually saw me as a full-grown adult, that would be the weird part.

Anyway, Lupko was a year older than me, so I didn’t really care either way.

"Go ahead."

"Hey, hey, you should drop the formal speech too. It’d feel weird if it’s just me talking casually."

"Speaking formally is basically my passive skill... Besides, we’re not even friends, so suddenly switching to informal speech feels a bit odd, doesn’t it?"

"Did you already forget the deep bond we formed as debtor and creditor?"

"That was a bond?"

"Damn it. I even took on a bad-credit status just to prove our friendship."

"...That was just so you could borrow money you weren’t going to pay back."

"For such a tiny thing, you sure have sharp instincts."

For the record, Lupko was not someone I needed to be wary of.

Unlike Movgun, who could be a strategic opponent, Lupko was a chaos magnet who constantly attracted sniper attacks.

Someone like me, an outright turret, would just be another headache for him.

Which is why he always kept his guard up around me.

Even when Momo cussed him out or mocked him on stream, he still called her "noona" and treated her with a weird sense of reverence.

But the flip side of that? He was big on hierarchy.

So, naturally, the next thing he asked was:

"So, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Yeah, okay. Like hell you are."

"I am twenty-four. Want to see my ID?"

Lupko shook his head quickly.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. No need to get all serious."

"Well, you weren’t believing me."

"I was just joking. You really startled me, though—you look exactly like your cutout. At first, I thought some lost kid was wandering around."

We walked silently past ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) a few more tables before he stopped again.

Right in the middle of the banquet hall's seating area.

"Anyway, since we’re already talking casually, let me ask you for a favor."

"What favor?"

"I kinda need to make a good impression on K-Mang hyung right now. Can you back me up a bit?"

I tilted my head.

Yeon Sung-mook earlier, and now this?

Why is everyone acting like this today?

And why me, of all people?

"What exactly do you expect me to do?"

Lupko looked genuinely confused at my confusion.

"What do you mean? The Makgeolli Crew guys are all really curious about you. That means they’re interested."

Originally, I had planned to ask Momo to introduce me to K-Mang and the Makgeolli Crew.

I had already raised an eyebrow when K-Mang suddenly requested to meet me.

And now, while heading there with Lupko, we were having this conversation?

"Why would K-Mang be interested in some random employee?"

"Dude. You were a nightmare-tier Demon King. Did you forget? You literally had K-Mang hyung's blackmail material up on Floor 4 of Maou Castle."

Oh.

That made my heart sink a little.

Was the interest not a positive one?

I mean, what would someone like K-Mang even want from a lowly office worker like me?

"...Oh. Right. That happened, huh?"

"See?! This is why I say perpetrators never remember! Hold on—just wait."

Lupko pulled out his phone and quickly found a clip.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

And then it hit me.

Right.

K-Mang had been in the streamer presets for Maou Castle.

The clip showed the exact moment.

The one where he said:

"So, VTubers are a trend these days, huh?"

Before trying out a freakin’ axolotl cutout for his test stream.

"Oh. This."

"Yeah. This. How the hell do you forget what you broadcasted?"

"Well... things were kind of chaotic at the time."

I had been in full RP mode as the Demon King.

Completely absorbed in the role, pushing the bit as far as possible.

If K-Mang was upset about it, that could be bad.

Maybe when Momo told him I was coming, he thought:

"Magia's gonna be there? Oh, perfect. Time to verbally obliterate her."

I suddenly felt a chill run down my spine.

A 3-million-subscriber YouTuber scolding me on the spot?

Absolutely terrifying.

"I feel like I’m about to get wrecked over there."

"...Wrecked? What do you mean?"

"Isn’t he pissed?"

Lupko snorted.

"What the hell are you talking about? If he was mad, why would I be asking you for help? I’d just drop you off at the table and run."

...Oh.

That made sense.

But that also meant...

K-Mang actually thinks positively of me?

Even though I aired his blackmail-tier content without his consent?

That didn’t make sense.

How was that possible?

...But then again.

Maybe this was just an extension of my original theory.

Ever since I became Magia, I had been enjoying certain privileges.

I could mess with Momo all I wanted, and all I got in return was a flick to the forehead.

I could mess with random teammates in Battle Colosseum, and almost none of them ever got truly mad.

That safety net had let me loosen up more than before.

That’s why I had dared to put up blackmail-tier videos of top streamers in the first place.

And now...

Had that actually worked in my favor?

Had K-Mang—instead of getting offended—just laughed it off as funny content?

If that was the case...

Then this was a golden opportunity.

If K-Mang already saw me in a positive light, I could scrap most of my pre-planned icebreakers.

Since they were all prepared for the sake of breaking the initial awkwardness.

And if my approach got easier, then helping Lupko wouldn’t be a hassle, either.

"Alright. So, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Oh. Baseball Manager 25 is launching soon, right? I want to collab with K-Mang for it."

Baseball Manager.

A brutally pay-to-win game.

One so addictive that Lupko had been saying he’d quit for five years straight but never actually did.

And K-Mang?

One of the biggest spenders on the game.

This year alone, both of them had done sponsored streams for Baseball Manager 24 just a few days apart.

But they had completely different energy levels.

K-Mang had that calm, riverside makgeolli-drinking vibe.

Lupko?

More like flailing in a tsunami with nothing but his bare hands.

If they wanted to collaborate, Lupko had to be the one to propose it.

But he knew his image as a chaotic gremlin wouldn’t make it an easy sell.

"I won’t ask for much. Just throw in a comment while we’re talking—like, ‘I’d be curious to see you two stream together.’ That’s it."

Ah.

He wanted to use me as a shock absorber.

Since K-Mang already liked me.

"If something goes out, something has to come back."

In Wicker Town, it didn’t really matter if I didn’t get the money. But in real life? There was no way I was letting someone run off with my cash.

"Then, Lupko, help me out too."

"What? Just say the word."

"You're not going to default on your debt this time, right?"

"Hey, hey. That was just for content. I don’t actually do that. What, you want me to sign a video contract or something? ‘I, Lupko—Oh Seung-jong—solemnly swear to repay Magia’s help with my own support’?"

"That won’t be necessary."

"So? What is it? Spit it out."

What else could it be?

The Parallel World Cup, of course.

Ever since Mugeon held the Parallel World Cup, a surprising number of small indie streamers had hopped onto the Parallel Coin.

Originally, the BatchuBatchu KR and Lapits World Cup dominated the scene, but this was a serious statement of intent.

However, it wouldn’t be easy for Lupko to handle this alone.

Ideally, he’d do it when he and The Mad Dogs were all gathered together.

Instead of multiple people splitting the event over different times, it would be far more effective to have a combined audience of 40,000 watching it all at once.

Of course, I was well aware of something.

Compared to what Lupko had asked of me, my request was ridiculously demanding.

But you never know until you try.

I mean, just look at how Lupko kept pressing me.

It only made me realize more clearly that I might actually be enjoying quite a few privileges.

Even though Lupko was one of the people who got humiliated by my fourth-floor exhibition of blackmail videos, here he was, being incredibly friendly.

“...Hey, punk. Hurry up and say it. I might just refuse, you know?”

The slight upward curve at the corner of his lips had been there from the start.

Despite his sharp tone, he was clearly looking at me in a favorable light.

When Yeon Sung-mook showed up earlier to talk about my debut, I had a feeling today was going to be an unusual day.

And if Lupko actually agreed to my request, I might just have to accept it as fact.

That wherever I went as a guest, acting like a fool, it only served to help Parallel.

I let out a quiet breath and calmly made my request.

"Gather The Mad Dogs and do a Parallel World Cup just once."

Lupko immediately raised an eyebrow.

His asymmetrical expression made his face look particularly mischievous.

"Hmm. That’s a tough one."

"...I figured as much."

A firm rejection.

Yeah, that was expected.

Oh well.

I had always considered this a long shot.

...But Lupko didn’t just end the conversation there.

"Of course, it’s tough, idiot. The price doesn’t match the effort."

He tacked on an additional condition, making it clear he was still open to negotiations.

"Hold on. Let me do some calculations."

Lupko then pulled out his phone and started tapping away.

He checked some website, searched for Match-Up Tournament details, and...

After exchanging messages with someone, he finally spoke.

"You know about the Match-Up Tournament, right?"

"Ah, yeah. The one in mid-January? Wasn't the main event Battle Colosseum?"

"That’s just a rumor. The January tournament isn’t Battle Colosseum—it’s Combative."

Combative.

A hardcore military FPS where a single headshot could instantly take someone down.

At the same time, it had a skill system similar to Battle Colosseum, lowering the entry barrier.

Among FPS games with active leagues, Combative stood shoulder to shoulder with Battle Colosseum as one of the two major powerhouses.

Up until last year, Battle Colosseum had been the primary game for the Match-Up Tournament, but with Combative’s recent surge in popularity, it seemed the tournament had decided to hold it twice a year.

"Join the tournament."

"Huh?"

"The organizers have been looking for mid-tier players to fill out the roster. They’ve been asking me if I know anyone decent. You know Serena, right? From Lapits? She’s competing too."

So Lupko wanted me to participate in the Match-Up Tournament.

Considering Battle Colosseum was my main game, I wasn’t exactly confident...

But it was still an FPS, and of course, it had shotguns.

There wasn’t a good reason to turn it down.

But I needed to confirm something first.

With only 20 available slots, I didn’t want to take away someone else’s opportunity just because of a favor.

"Aren’t there plenty of other players? Why me specifically?"

"Because the Naore Invitational is the following week. Everyone’s flocking there. It requires way more practice time, so no one’s doing both."

"And you need mid-tier players to balance things out?"

"Exactly. There’s no one bridging the gap right now. You’re perfect for it."

"Perfect? I’ve barely played Combative."

"But you play FPS, don’t you? You already proved yourself with Battle Colosseum. They want someone like you—a new face with raw talent, someone who can build a compelling narrative in a short time. The organizers want it. The viewers want it."

Lupko then pointed at the name tag on my chest.

"You weren’t originally a streamer, right? That’s why I never considered you before. But now, you’re wearing that tag. That means Pazijik acknowledges you as a content creator. So, what do you say? Yes or no?"

That sounded awfully similar to what the CEO had told me earlier.

...The moment I got an invitation, I was already a streamer, huh?

But I wasn’t the only one who streamed like this.

For example, Wicker Crew, who managed the 64 Cubics mega-server, did the same thing.

They worked behind the scenes for streamers, ran their own private channels, but never called themselves "streamers."

They called themselves staff.

So I had no intention of backing down.

I might have received an invitation, but like I told the CEO earlier, a staff only moves when the CEO gives the order.

"I’ll ask my boss and let you know."