I Want to Be a VTuber

Youngbin had been wrestling with an unusual dilemma lately, and for good reason.

If he accepted the director position, backing out would no longer be an option. Rejecting it outright seemed awkward, but accepting it and then backing out would be a declaration of intent to cut ties with Raywill Games entirely.

So his choices boiled down to two: accept it or not. Becoming a game director for a major corporation—a career pinnacle for some—might have been an easy yes for others, but for Youngbin, it was about something else entirely.

The reason? A piece of his high school dream lingered. He still clung to the desire to start his own company, to create games with his own team. It was a minor, impractical dream, and he’d mostly set it aside. He was a director now. What kind of adventure was he hoping for?

He had a wife and two daughters; it felt too late to get lost in the past. He’d thought he’d let it go.

But then... Seoyeon and her.

Who would have thought those two would go head-to-head in the Masked Singer finals?

When Seoyeon sang, it had been surprising but reasonable. But the Opening—the song had no real title. Hastily completed, it had been added to their game with only “Opening” as its placeholder name. Still, nothing else would have fit as perfectly. And who could have guessed that song would end up in a final round?

It was a song no one knew.

“Go ahead and regret letting me go,” he recalled a girl crying out with tearful defiance from twenty years ago. Her pride had been all over her words.

“Even if you don’t believe it, I’ll live well enough to make you regret it. This isn’t the end,” she’d said.

As she’d shouted those words at him, running after him on his way out of Seoul, he hadn’t known how things would turn out. Years later, he’d heard she’d moved up to Seoul, and he’d seen her on TV, thriving in her own success.

‘So, was this her way of showing me?’ he thought, cracking a smile as he stepped out of the company elevator and made his way to the familiar glass-walled project office.

“...”

“...?”

A strange silence greeted him as he entered. Heads snapped around to look at him, and the hand Youngbin had raised in greeting slowly lowered.

“What’s... what’s going on here?”

Startled by the tense atmosphere, he stammered, watching as the group huddled around the monitor parted slightly to reveal multiple news articles on display.

It was footage and write-ups from the Masked Singer final episode aired the night before.

'Ah.'

Youngbin realized he’d missed the live broadcast; he’d had too much on his mind.

And while he remembered that Seoyeon had said something during the finals—probably something while she focused on Yeo-hee—it hadn’t really registered.

‘What exactly did our daughter say?’

When he’d asked Sua, she hadn’t filled him in. Now he understood why.

‘Did I mess up big time, honey?’

The articles told the story.

[“Gray Crow”: Is it really Yeo-hee?] [Fans uncover surprising details: Yeo-hee’s mysterious past!] [The song Yeo-hee performed, a nostalgic song from her school days]

Nothing out of the ordinary there; enough hints had already been dropped.

The clues were there: Yeo-hee’s song, Sua’s remarks during Golden Duckling. It wasn’t hard to put together that Gray Crow was Yeo-hee. Sua’s past pointed to her gaming club, which had only four members; tracking down Yeo-hee hadn’t been difficult.

The problem was the depth of information these articles provided, including a thorough timeline of their pasts.

'Is this her way of showing me I should regret it after all these years?'

A long-delayed act of revenge? The interview seemed like nothing less.

“It’s all a misunderstanding.”

Youngbin tried to assure his colleagues, though they looked at him with unchanging expressions.

They all knew his wife Sua was famous for her beauty—her looks were no secret within the company. And thanks to Golden Duckling, her private life had been laid bare.

‘How is someone like this even allowed to exist?’ ‘My wife just nags me the moment I step through the door.’

His wife, just a year younger, looked younger than many celebrities. One of his daughters was a rising actress, and the other was incredibly adorable.

That alone would have been tolerable. But now, they were dealing with a famous high school friend who was also a singer? And on top of that, she’d sung a mysteriously meaningful song in the Masked Singer finals, with Youngbin and Sua sitting in the audience.

Any fool could see the internet was in an uproar.

Game communities, notorious for their ferocity, were practically erupting.

But as the rumors spread across multiple online platforms, things became clear.

One post even had someone “verify” the story with a student ID, claiming to be an old classmate of Youngbin.

By this point, old memes of Youngbin bowing his head and apologizing surfaced online, and community jokes began circulating widely.

Meanwhile...

“Seoyeon? Are you okay?”

“Hm? About what?”

Seoyeon was happily eating ice cream, unbothered by anything

The Masked Singer aftermath was bigger than expected. It wasn’t just about Seoyeon, but mostly about Yeo-hee’s impact. Yeo-hee wasn’t just a singer; she was an icon.

With her extensive work in Korea and even a brief stint in the U.S., she was a favorite on patriotic channels. A headline-grabbing story tied to a singer of her stature was bound to draw attention.

But Seoyeon’s part in the story was substantial as well, especially because she’d lost to Yeo-hee by only two votes.

Of course, Seoyeon’s performance in the finals was impressive on its own.

“Seoyeon!”

Today, Jo Seohui was there on her bike. What happened to the Benz she used to drive?

“Is it true? Tell me it’s true!”

Her reaction was so intense that Seoyeon, usually unfazed, took a step back.

“Y-yes, it’s true.”

“Then introduce me to Yeo-hee, please!”

It figured. Seohui was here to ask for an introduction to Yeo-hee. Both Ji-yeon and Seohui seemed deeply captivated by Yeo-hee’s popularity.

‘Given Seohui’s personality, she’s probably eager to network.’

In truth, Seoyeon had no particular desire to meet Yeo-hee again. To her, Yeo-hee was just an old club friend.

But the online stories were captivating enough to make Seoyeon want to meet her again, if only out of curiosity.

Back home, Sua’s reproachful gaze made Seoyeon feel slightly guilty. Yet, Sua’s relief in reconnecting with Yeo-hee was evident, though her feelings were complex.

‘Well, Yeo-hee Auntie won, after all.’

Losing to Yeo-hee was a given. However, Seoyeon’s competitive streak had compelled her to make her parting words memorable—she hadn’t anticipated the scale of the reaction.

‘Maybe I overdid it a little...’

When she’d made her final remarks, she hadn’t expected them to spark this level of media attention.

“Well, I think it’s great you said what you did.”

Unable to leave Seohui outside on her bike, Seoyeon brought her to the nearest McDonald’s, where Seohui munched on a burger with gusto.

“It’s an issue that’s drawing attention. It’s not like this will harm anyone’s image. Besides, it happened so long ago that it’s a pretty safe topic.”

It was true. No one was getting hurt from this. The worst outcome was people feeling bad for Yeo-hee.

‘Though I suppose Dad’s a victim.’

Seoyeon’s recent hobby involved watching AI-generated apology videos of her dad, Youngbin, synced to a beat. Watching him squirm when she played the video at home on the big screen doubled her amusement.

For once, Seoyeon, who’d always been teased, finally got to strike back.

“And look at how it’s boosting Sky Garden.”

“I don’t see how it’s relevant to the story.”

“It’s attention. Just look at the search trends—everyone’s looking it up.”

Up until now, The Grand Game had been outpacing Sky Garden by a wide margin, but since Masked Singer, they’d been neck and neck.

Today, Sky Garden was actually pulling ahead, drawing interest from the latest episode’s buzz.

“Did you watch last week’s episode? They went on a group trip. And they ended with a cliffhanger hinting at an incident.”

Seohui had been keeping up with Sky Garden episodes, even recording them. While partly for study, she was genuinely enjoying it.

She was already a fan of Sky Garden.

“I think the next episode will be big. With the buildup, they need to follow through. How’s it looking?”

Taking a big bite of her burger, Seoyeon replied confidently. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

“It’ll be fine.”

In the upcoming episodes 11 and 12, Kim Hyunseok, who played Minhyuk, was getting into his groove, especially with his recent portrayal of Minhyuk’s inferiority complex.

His performance had even momentarily convinced Seoyeon.

This week’s episodes would only build on last week’s momentum, and Seoyeon felt assured.

She was ready to finally overshadow The Grand Game.