I Want to Be a VTuber

For Narumi Sora, this news was like a bolt from the blue.

She had been without an agency for a while, but after Hyper Action Star, she managed to sign with a reputable agency and was now enjoying a stable life. "Lime Actors," her agency, was mid-tier but leaned toward supporting actors rather than idols, which suited her interests.

With a variety of actors to learn from, it was an ideal environment.

"Sora, your pronunciation is really good. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known you were Japanese until you told me."

"Is... is that so?"

Sora had always been good at Korean. She had diligently studied it while in Japan, moving to Korea right after high school. Now, at nineteen, she felt a sense of pride in how hard she had worked.

Actually, most people here probably speak it pretty well.

Japanese actors in Korea were rare. She remembered hearing about one in the past, but their career hadn’t lasted long.

Most Japanese entertainers active in Korea were idols. So, it wasn’t surprising people thought her pronunciation might be lacking.

Most people probably assume it’s part of the persona.

Everywhere has its stereotypes, and foreign idols with a slight accent often seem cuter or more endearing to the public.

But that’s only true for idols.

It’s different for actors. Clear pronunciation is essential, and an actor with poor pronunciation would struggle to get cast in films or dramas.

"At this rate, it’d be wise to start preparing for other projects beyond Mine. I’ll put in a word with the agency."

"Th-thank you!"

Sora bowed her head in gratitude to her senior actor.

Projects... more projects.

Sora couldn’t help but smile. In terms of income, being an actor in Korea was far more lucrative than in Japan—almost four times more, on average.

So, it was no wonder Sora felt uplifted. If she could secure a lead role in Mine, her visibility would be greatly enhanced.

No, not yet.

Nothing was certain, after all. She had to give her best effort. For Sora, Mine was the starting point, a movie she absolutely had to succeed in.

With that mindset, she was ready for anything.

But then—

“...Japan? Me?”

“Yes.”

The voice on the other end was someone Sora would never forget: Ju Seoyeon.

Seoyeon was the actress she had faced in the final stages of Hyper Action Star. Her physical prowess was remarkable, and her acting was on a whole different level.

Though younger, Seoyeon was far more experienced as an actress. Even with Sora’s theater background in Japan, there was a vast difference.

After Hyper Action Star, they had exchanged numbers and kept in touch occasionally.

“If you have the chance, it’d be good to stay close to Ju Seoyeon.”

“Really?”

“She’s an actress who’ll go far. Very few actors can make such an impact within just one year. This year was undeniably the year of Ju Seoyeon.”

How many actors could make a debut and dominate the entire year? Ju Seoyeon was one of them.

Naturally, the agency’s director and senior actors advised Sora to maintain a good relationship with her. Connections were essential, and if Seoyeon became a superstar, it could open doors for her.

“B-but Japan...?”

Narumi Sora hesitated. Seoyeon’s invitation was certainly something to be grateful for.

Apparently, she’d been invited to appear on a Japanese variety show, and it would create a nice picture to have Sora, as a Japanese actress, appear alongside her.

It was a great offer, but Sora wasn’t too keen on appearing on Japanese variety shows.

People will recognize me!

Though she hadn’t starred in any major productions in Japan, she’d participated in a few small plays. And while she hadn’t had the chance to truly break out, it wasn’t as if there weren’t opportunities.

“The acting environment in Japan doesn’t suit me. It feels too much like playing house.”

In her rebellious phase, she’d set her sights on overseas markets, whether in Korea or China. She was brimming with ambition as a high school student.

Though she had received offers, her disappointment with Japan’s reluctance to accept her as an action actress had pushed her away.

Back then, she’d spoken her mind bluntly, refusing offers because they wanted her to be a "pretty actress," not an action star.

Someone must have talked about it online.

Thinking of the things she’d said to industry contacts, Sora felt uneasy about returning to Japan.

“You don’t want to?”

Seoyeon’s calm voice came through the phone. Just three words, spoken quietly, made Sora swallow nervously.

“O-of course I’d love to! Heheh.”

And so, Sora’s trip to Japan was confirmed—without any real persuasion, only a straightforward notice from Seoyeon.

Looks like I’ve solved the communication issue.

One of the biggest concerns when traveling overseas was having someone who could speak the local language. It was enough to change the entire travel experience.

Of course, if she asked the broadcasting station or agency, they would arrange a guide. Or the Japanese network might provide a translator from the start.

But Seoyeon found that option uncomfortable.

I need to go to Akihabara.

It wouldn’t do to drag a translator along to Akihabara. How would it look, hauling around loads of anime goods?

Besides, it’d be an inconvenience.

Dragging along a translator or guide just for personal travel was too much. It’d be far better to go with a friend or another young actor.

Narumi Sora was a perfect fit in that sense. She was fluent in Japanese, and since they’d be filming Mine together, it was a good opportunity to bond.

I should make another actor friend, Seoyeon thought.

Although they occasionally kept in touch through messages or calls, Seoyeon wanted to get closer to Sora personally. She also thought Sora would make a good workout buddy.

“Now that Sky Garden is over and there’s some time before Gyeongseong Lady filming starts, you should take it easy.”

Manager Park Eun-ha said this with a smile. Thanks to Seoyeon’s diligent attendance, her school attendance record was secure.

A two-week break wouldn’t cause any issues. Just yesterday, the final episode of Sky Garden aired, reaching an impressive 34% viewership, marking a historic achievement.

Though Grand Game managed a respectable comeback at 15% in its last episode, it was hardly a match for Sky Garden's 34%—almost like comparing it to a natural disaster.

“You might be better off staying in Japan for a while.”

Jo Seohui, carrying several shopping bags, chimed in. Today, Seoyeon, Jiyeon, and Seohui were out shopping together.

They had planned this trip earlier as a casual outing.

“Things are really crazy right now. It’s too noisy. Honestly, if you were in a rush, this would be a great time to capitalize on it... but you’re not, right?”

Seoyeon was already receiving offers left and right. Now, every major brand was approaching her with advertisements.

The power of a drama reaching 34% viewership was truly overwhelming. The biggest beneficiaries were two brands.

[Adiz Sales Breaking Records Every Day—The Sky Garden Effect] [Ju Seoyeon’s Chair Completely Sold Out! Restocking in Progress!!]

They couldn’t keep the chair Yiju used in the drama in stock, which spurred people to seek alternatives.

For Adiz, whose brand value had been declining, this was a lifesaver. No, it was more like they’d shot up to the sky on a rocket.

Even the CEO personally reached out to Seoyeon.

"Actress Ju Seoyeon, thank you for representing our brand. Oh, and if you need, we can provide a chair from Raywheel Games...”

Since it was widely known that Seoyeon’s father, Yeongbin, was a team lead at Raywheel Games, all of their old chairs had been replaced with Adiz chairs.

Naturally, Yeongbin was more than pleased.

The second brand reaping the benefits was Éclat Étoile. It hardly needs mentioning—since the start of Sky Garden, they’d increased ad placements featuring Seoyeon and actively promoted her.

But—

“Oh, my skin? It’s flawless, thanks to Éclat Étoile skincare.” “When I fell into the valley? Of course, I was fine. Why? Because of the skincare, obviously!”

Initially, it seemed like mere lip service. But gradually, it felt like she was using it as an excuse for everything.

The former might be believable, but the latter? Falling into a valley and coming out unscathed because of skincare?

Éclat Étoile’s executive, Baek Minchan, thought as much but couldn’t say it directly to Seoyeon. It was also becoming a bit of a complaint from the advertising team.

We’ll have to find a way to address this later.

Skincare obviously couldn’t do that. If it could, it would be used in the military, not just for beauty.

Either way, with Adiz and Éclat Étoile thriving, other advertisers weren’t going to sit idly by.

“After all, an actor’s image only lasts a season.” “Will there be another hit like this?”

There were people with this mindset, but a successful season could bring an actor enough income to last a lifetime. From the perspective of companies, getting involved in that season was invaluable.

So, brands were scrambling to secure some kind of connection with Seoyeon, while her response remained lukewarm.

“You’re already on TV and in movies all the time. Adding commercials would just wear out your image.”

Jo Seohui advised her to be cautious. Her image was already being heavily used.

Seeing the same face repeatedly could lead to fatigue. While it had been fine this past year to raise awareness, it wouldn’t be sustainable in the long run.

“Honestly... I’d love to go with you.”

Jo Seohui said this, glancing at Seoyeon. Seoyeon continued holding a dress up to herself, seemingly indifferent.

Not displeased, just neutral.

“Maybe next time, if you don’t mind? I actually have a family friend in Japan who owns a hotel.”

“Really?”

Seoyeon’s eyes widened in surprise. Since Mirinae Land, Seohui had been more open about such things with Seoyeon, perhaps because Seoyeon never showed much interest in financial matters.

Moreover, Seohui didn’t particularly appreciate the advantages that came from her family background.

“Yeah, we could go to Okinawa or Hokkaido. They’re nice places.”

But as Seohui mentioned the travel spots, Seoyeon’s reaction immediately cooled.

Seohui was taken aback. Okinawa and Hokkaido were iconic Japanese tourist destinations, after all.

She wondered if Seoyeon preferred a ryokan (traditional inn) instead of a hotel.

As she pondered this, she noticed Jiyeon clicking her tongue in amusement.

If it’s not Tokyo or Osaka, she’s not interested.

There were no places like Akihabara or Denden Town there. Seoyeon’s preferences were obvious; she enjoyed things that excited her and wasn’t particularly interested in relaxing, healing trips.

She liked places where she could have a good time.

If they wanted to entice her, suggesting Disneyland or Universal Studios might have been better. Jiyeon thought this while picking out clothes for Seoyeon.

All in all, it was an enjoyable shopping day.

In reality, today’s shopping was more about preparing for Seoyeon’s Japan trip.

She’s bound to forget skincare or clothes if left on her own.

She would likely travel with just Manager Park Eun-ha and Narumi Sora. Perhaps the manager, too? Four or five people at most?

Seoyeon didn’t like traveling with a large group, so they planned for a minimal crew.

I just hope she doesn’t cause any trouble.

Honestly, Jiyeon felt concerned. Though Seoyeon seemed normal as she chatted with Jo Seohui, she was noticeably excited.

She also noticed that Seoyeon had become more gentle toward Seohui. Though she didn’t drop the honorifics, she was visibly more relaxed with her.

While Jiyeon hadn’t thought much about it before, she felt a faint sense of jealousy. She had always been Seoyeon’s only friend.

Now, others like Seohui were entering that space. It was both a little irritating and a little comforting.

Meanwhile, YHJ Broadcasting was discussing the actress coming from Korea. They had already decided on a variety show for her appearance, but it felt too plain.

“What about a hidden camera prank?”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good.”

Hidden cameras were a popular choice for foreign celebrities visiting Japan for the first time. But the important part was the concept.

“How about horror?”

At that moment, Hiroki Amaya, who had been quiet, spoke up.

“Horror?”

“Oh, right. She mentioned something about that—if she’d ever watched a Japanese horror movie.”

The response came from PD Nanjo Katsuo, who had met Seoyeon in Korea. Japan was famous for horror films, so he’d asked if she’d watched any.

Her answer had been remarkable.

“I’ve never really experienced fear in real life.”

Watching horror movies, she wouldn’t feel much.

“Wow, now I want to try this even more.”

“Should we notify her manager first?”

“That sounds best. Let’s discuss it with them and proceed accordingly.”

Since she was a foreign actress, it wasn’t easy to plan a hidden camera without permission. To be honest, they weren’t familiar with Ju Seoyeon.

For them, she was simply the Korean actress PD Nanjo Katsuo had taken a liking to. But with The Chaser set to release in Japan soon and Dream Future already popular, they figured it would be worth it.

After all, Korean actors rarely visited Japan these days.

“Still, if she doesn’t react much, it might be awkward. She seems pretty cool-headed.”

“Exactly. So we’ll have to work even harder on the setup. Luckily, we have a good location in mind.”

As YHJ prepared for the broadcast with these discussions, Seoyeon was already en route to the airport with several bags packed, excited for her Japan trip.