I Want to Be a VTuber

To begin with, it was just a few leaked photos—images from a film set.

At first glance, it seemed like a routine case of minor leaks, but the reactions online painted a more significant picture.

The leaked photos sparked discussions across online communities, though the conversations were relatively low-key.

This was expected—after all, the film hadn’t even been released yet, and fan communities for actors were generally quieter compared to those for idols.

Even so, Ju Seoyeon’s fanbase was unusually robust for an actor. But the buzz wasn’t solely due to the film’s genre or subject matter.

“It’s striking.”

At Coquelicot Korea’s office—a subsidiary of the French luxury brand—CEO Jang Taehee nodded while reviewing the photos submitted for a meeting.

The company’s headquarters had recently requested recommendations for a Korean ambassador to represent the brand. In other words, they were searching for a new luxury ambassador.

Choosing an ambassador for a luxury brand wasn’t simply a matter of fame or recognition. The chosen individual had to embody an image that would resonate globally.

“For such a small country, Korea leads the world in luxury consumption per capita.”

It was no surprise that Coquelicot wanted a Korean celebrity to represent them. The brand’s market share in Asia was relatively low compared to Europe, and this initiative was a calculated move to challenge other dominant luxury brands in the region.

Jang Taehee meticulously reviewed the candidates.

“Who’s the main candidate headquarters has suggested?”

“Rhee Hyun from JustX.”

“That’s a solid choice.”

As the leader of JustX, Rhee Hyun was a globally recognized K-pop idol. Given the current trend of Korean idols being appointed as ambassadors for luxury brands, this seemed like a safe and logical decision—at least from a numbers perspective.

“They also mentioned they’re open to reviewing additional candidates.”

Hwang Soyoung, head of Coquelicot Korea’s PR team, scanned through the list of shortlisted candidates again.

Unsurprisingly, all of them were visually stunning celebrities.

However, the most eye-catching image wasn’t from an official photoshoot but from the recently leaked photos.

“It’s rare to see a leaked photo being considered in cases like this, isn’t it?”

“It speaks to the impact of the image. Plus...”

The photo in question included members of the Japanese filming crew, as noted by whoever had leaked it.

“Ju Seoyeon is said to be the Korean actress Japan is currently most interested in.”

“She’s barely done anything there. That’s surprising.”

“To garner this level of recognition purely through her appearance—it’s unprecedented.”

But it wasn’t just her looks.

It all started with a one-minute performance.

That single minute had gone viral in Japan, becoming a meme and a widely shared YouTube clip.

“Still, basing a decision solely on the Japanese market feels risky.”

“It’s not just the Japanese market. Have you seen the buzz surrounding Sky Garden?”

“Well...”

Hwang Soyoung couldn’t argue with that.

The recently concluded Sky Garden had reached a jaw-dropping 33% viewership for its final episode—a number considered impossible in modern terrestrial broadcasting.

By the standards of a decade ago, this was equivalent to over 40%. The series had been nothing short of a cultural phenomenon.

Among the biggest beneficiaries was ADs, a brand specializing in ergonomic chairs, followed by the cosmetics brand Éclat Étoile.

Currently, ADs’s student desk chairs were entirely sold out.

“Right now, Ju Seoyeon’s recognition among her peers is unmatched.”

“In terms of impact within just one year, she’s even eclipsed Jo Seohee and Park Jungwoo.”

It wasn’t that Jo Seohee or Park Jungwoo hadn’t had their share of hits this year.

It was just that Ju Seoyeon’s successes had been nothing short of extraordinary.

Be it variety shows, dramas, or films—everything she touched seemed to turn to gold.

Her output had been so prolific that her relatively few commercials made sense; she barely had time to shoot them amidst her packed filming schedule.

“With Sky Garden and Dream Future currently being exported overseas, Ju Seoyeon’s recognition will undoubtedly grow further.”

“That’s true. The only concern is...”

“...Her career is still too short.”

Despite her astonishing achievements, she had only been active for a year. There was no telling what her future held.

If she could maintain this momentum into the next year, it might be a different story altogether.

“Just based on the aesthetic of this photo alone, there’s no actress who fits Coquelicot’s image better.”

Ju Seoyeon’s appearance in the butterfly-themed kimono, holding an elegant kiseru (Japanese pipe), seemed like something straight out of a classic film.

The title circulating with the leaked photos, Lady Butterfly, was fitting.

A butterfly—“coquelicot” in French also meaning red poppy—perfectly aligned with the brand’s identity.

“For now, it seems premature. Let’s observe a bit longer.”

“And Rhee Hyun?”

“Let’s proceed with him for now. There’s something about JustX that concerns me, though.”

Specifically, their leader, Row, had been the subject of some recent murmurs. While no overt scandals had surfaced yet, the potential was there.

“At least for now.”

“But someone else might scoop up Rhee Hyun. He’s been actively positioning himself as a brand ambassador candidate.”

“Then let them have him.”

Jang Taehee smiled calmly.

Currently, Rhee Hyun offered more immediate benefits in terms of recognition and marketability.

“But who knows what the future holds?”

Her instincts, honed over years in the industry, whispered that things might soon change.

It was almost laughable to compare Ju Seoyeon, a rookie with just a year of experience, to an established star like Rhee Hyun. The difference in recognition was staggering—a gap as wide as the sky and the earth.

But the future was unpredictable.

Ju Seoyeon was a rising star, particularly in Japan, where interest in her was soaring.

While Japan’s entertainment market had waned in influence compared to its heyday, it remained a country with a formidable cultural reputation and undeniable influence.

“Gyeongseong Lady...”

Something about this film felt pivotal, as though its release would mark a turning point.

Why, she couldn’t say—but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

++++

"Wow..."

A woman sat in the dark, completely engrossed in the drama playing on the large TV screen before her. On the screen, a stunning young woman with long black hair and alabaster skin was delivering an incredible performance. Her deep black hair stood out even more against her fair complexion, and her mysterious red eyes added an ethereal quality.

The scene was building toward the climax.

It was the latter half of Sky Garden.

Lee Yujoo, who had only ever followed the path her father laid out for her, was discovering a new dream under the influence of her friend, Song Gayeon.

"...I’m scared."

Yujoo clutched Gayeon’s arm, her voice trembling. She recalled the day she fell from the cliff—the girl who helped her with no expectation of anything in return.

"Making decisions entirely on my own... it terrifies me."

In the past, Yujoo wouldn’t have spared someone like Gayeon a glance. A lackluster background. A painfully kind personality. Mediocre academic achievements.

Yet, Yujoo found herself captivated, chasing after Gayeon.

She had tried to reject her, push her away countless times. Convincing herself that her own path was far superior to anything Gayeon could offer, she even mocked her.

But perhaps it was because of this...

The adults in the "Sky Garden" who reached out to her, the children who danced to their tunes—they all began to look grotesque in her eyes.

Like marionettes controlled by invisible strings.

And the thought that she was no different from them sent chills down her spine.

"I’ve already made a mistake once."

That mistake was Im Minseo.

The second child of the Im family, whom Yujoo had used as a stepping stone to climb higher.

But Minseo had refused to be a stepping stone.

She had pushed Yujoo to the edge of the cliff, mere moments before Yujoo could extend her hand to Minseo's older brother.

Minseo had then attempted suicide after seeing Yujoo return alive, her eyes filled with bitter resentment.

"You wouldn’t understand," Minseo had whispered in a low voice.

"For the first time in my life, my parents’ attention turned to me. I fought so hard for it, earned it at great cost. But if you treat my brother the way you treated me... I’ll lose it all again."

With sorrow in her voice, Minseo had said those words before jumping from the school roof.

"But she lived," Gayeon had said, smiling as she recalled the incident.

"And that wasn’t your fault. Minseo was the one who made a mistake. She just tried to justify it in her mind."

Minseo had survived the fall but remained in a coma. Gayeon, despite understanding some of Minseo’s feelings, knew it wasn’t Yujoo’s fault.

"People make mistakes all the time. Sometimes, it’s unintentional."

Minseo’s case was a turning point for Yujoo.

It planted a seed of doubt in her mind, making it impossible for her to continue down the same path.

In other words, she lost her way.

"Yujoo, you have talent, don’t you? I think it would be a shame to give up on everything because of one mistake."

A small word of encouragement.

It was the first time Yujoo had ever heard such words in "Sky Garden." Perhaps even in her entire life.

No one had ever spoken to her that way before.

Could she do it?

Yujoo took a deep breath.

She still didn’t know what she truly wanted to do.

But before that—

"...There are things I need to resolve first."

The Im family’s matter.

And her father’s.

Yujoo made her decision.

She would no longer run away. She would face everything head-on.

As the screen faded to gray, the drama came to an end. The woman who had been holding her breath finally exhaled.

"Wow, if I’d been watching this live, I would’ve died from the suspense!"

At the same time, she lamented that there were only three episodes left.

Yujoo, who had been wandering after Minseo’s incident, had finally found her resolve. Now, all that was left was to deal with the final loose ends.

"The writing is excellent."

The woman nodded in appreciation, reflecting on the drama’s screenplay. Watching great works like this was always inspiring before starting her own projects.

It had been a year since she’d completed her previous work. She’d essentially been idle for the entire time, but now it felt like the right moment to dive into something new.

"...Then again, is there really a rush?"

Despite feeling inspired, she wasn’t about to start writing immediately. Writing novels required a relaxed state of mind, as it was a delicate process that reacted strongly to one’s mental and physical condition.

"So that actress... Ju Seoyeon..."

She repeated the name of the actress she had just seen on the drama.

Truth be told, she wasn’t much of a drama enthusiast.

In fact, she rarely watched any video content, whether TV shows or movies. YouTube, maybe, but only occasionally.

She only ended up watching Sky Garden after it had finished airing. And even then, it was because of one particular actress in the cast.

"Jealous, jealous. Sua, I’m so jealous of you... If I’d just been a little more diligent, a little quicker..."

She pounded her fists against the bed. Behind on her deadlines, behind in love—she couldn’t seem to do anything on time.

What was the point of writing a new book?

Maybe she should just spend the rest of her life in her room, alone.

As she wrestled under the covers with those dark thoughts—

Bzzz... Bzzz...

Her phone vibrated.

"Ugh, it’s probably another insurance call," she muttered, glancing at the screen. Then her face transformed into a bright smile.

"Editor-nim! Hello~! How are you? Oh, by the way, I was just about to send over five chapters of my new draft along with the proposal!"

[We know you haven’t written a single chapter.]

How did they know?

Already feeling gloomy, hearing her editor’s voice only made her feel worse.

But ignoring the call wasn’t an option. Her editor wasn’t just any editor—they worked directly for a major web novel platform.

In other words, they were part of the platform’s main office.

Offending them could have a direct impact on her work’s promotion.

Not that they’d admit it, of course. If asked, they’d just smile and deny it. But still, the feeling was there.

“The contract says I’m the secondary party...”

Yeah, right. She felt anything but secondary.

"I’m never signing directly with a platform again."

What was the point of writing bestselling novels if you couldn’t even speak your mind?

If she’d been with a traditional publisher, she’d be friendly with the CEO by now.

Next time, she’d write under a different pen name and publish elsewhere.

She was done being treated like this. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

[Good news, though!]

"Really? That’s great news!" she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

What could possibly be good news? A promotion?

Her works had already been adapted into webtoons, and she didn’t have anything else suitable for that format.

[Your novel is being adapted into a drama.]

"...What?"

She pulled her phone away from her ear, stared at the screen for a moment, then hit the record button on the call.

"I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. Could you repeat that?"

[Your novel is being adapted into a drama by a cable network.]

"Holy sh—!"

[?]

She couldn’t help but shout in excitement.

This was why working with a major platform was worth it. A drama adaptation? Not just a web drama, but a full-fledged cable network production?

"Seoyeon, Sua—live happily ever after, okay? Because I’m about to live my best life."

Her earlier gloom vanished in an instant.

What deadlines? What novels?

From now on, people could call her a drama writer.

With that thought, she flopped back onto her bed, drained from her over-the-top excitement.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to her, Ju Seoyeon was...

"I’ll be heading in now."

"Oh, um... come in."

...facing an awkward encounter with Yeohui.

Next time, she vowed, she’d be the one to have the upper hand on set.

After all, the humiliation she suffered during the previous shoot was something she couldn’t forget. It was time for some serious training.