Chapter 49: Confronting Truths and Forging Paths

Standing at the edge of the ship like the heroine of Titanic, I spread my arms wide.

“What are you doing, unnie?”

Bunnyrun, who was feeding seagulls shrimp crackers, looked bewildered.

Lowering my arms, I replied, “I’m gathering material for game development.”

“A game? It’s already coming out?”

“Not already, no. It’s still a long way off.”

“Of course, right?”

I crossed my arms and sank into thought.

“Bunnyrun.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“How did you find your YouTube editor?”

“Unnie, are you finally starting a YouTube channel?”

“The fans are demanding it relentlessly.”

“That’s such good news!”

Why is Bunnyrun more excited than me?

Does she also need content to munch on?

“For the editor? Hmm… I recruit them now, but at first, I kidnapped one of the fan-tube operators.”

“Really?”

“To capture the fun and flow in a video, they need to be a fan. Otherwise, it’s hard to sit through long live streams.”

It was the same logic as my father’s.

In the end, people produce the best results when they work on what they love.

“But if you want to hire someone from a fan-tube, you have to be selective, unnie.

Those operators often have strong egos and edit in their own style.

If that doesn’t match what you want, it’s a headache.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through it.”

“There’s a reason I don’t hire fan-tube operators anymore.”

Every choice comes with pros and cons.

In other words, if you aim for high potential, go with a fan-tube operator.

If you want consistent quality, choose an experienced editor.

“You’ve been really helpful.”

“I’m glad! So, unnie, how long are you staying in Donghae?”

“I need to head back soon.”

I couldn’t use more vacation days from my part-time job, so it was about time to return home.

Staying in Donghae any longer would only lead to unfavorable reactions.

And by unfavorable reactions, I meant from the viewers.

Really.

After disembarking from the cruise, I turned to Bunnyrun.

“Would it be okay if I stopped by my old school one last time?”

“Your old school?”

“Yes.”

“More game research?”

“You’re right.”

This is why I like Bunnyrun. She gets it without needing an explanation.

We headed to my alma mater, an elementary school.

In an age where safety concerns had erased all sorts of risky playground equipment, seeing the old obstacle course disguised as play structures still standing filled me with nostalgia.

This was Donghae.

The weak souls in Seoul would never understand the thrill of something so daring.

This was a special kind of fun that could only be experienced in childhood.

Climbing to the top of the jungle gym, I took in the view. It was spectacular.

“Unnie, sometimes you act like a kid.”

“I always carry the heart of a boy and girl.”

The jungle gym is special.

Climbing to the top feels like owning the world.

With a small grunt, I climbed down and strolled around the neighborhood, stopping in front of an empty lot.

“Where is this place?”

“This used to be my secret hideout.”

In the past, this place was filled with construction materials, creating a secluded and special space.

Thinking back, it was probably a bit dangerous, but reading comic books there had been a lot of fun.

“Did you hang out with friends here?”

“Comic books are meant to be enjoyed alone.”

Sharing comic books would only lead to a disaster—having to wait to read the next volume when you wanted to continue right away.

Enjoying them alone was always better.

“You’re the best, unnie.”

“I’m always the best.”

I closed my eyes and tried to recall the memories of playing in my old secret hideout as vividly as possible.

Inspiration buzzed in my mind, flickering on and off like a lightbulb about to spark to life.

“All set. Let’s head back to Seoul.”

“Huh? Han Yurim?”

I stopped mid-sentence, shutting my mouth.

A male voice came from behind me.

Turning around, I locked eyes with a face that wasn’t unfamiliar enough to be a stranger but wasn’t fully familiar either.

The man walked closer and spoke.

“Wow, it’s been ages.”

“It really has.”

“How long has it been? Almost ten years? How have you been?”

“I’m always doing great.”

The man, who seemed genuinely happy, suddenly glanced at my side. I followed his gaze.

There stood Bunnyrun, her expression blank and unimpressed. I gestured toward her with my palm.

“She’s my close friend.”

“Close friend. Nice to meet you. I’m Yurim’s elementary school classmate.”

“…Hello.”

“You know, seeing you reminds me of how you used to draw pictures on the schoolyard.”

“When you’re moved by The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, it’s inevitable.”

“And then—”

The man kept reminiscing, and I nodded along, sincerely answering his remarks.

After unloading his memories, he suddenly seemed to remember something and asked,

“They’re planning a reunion soon. Are you going to come?”

“Of course.”

“This must be fate. Should we exchange contact information?”

“Sure.”

We exchanged numbers, and the man left to return home.

We headed back as well.

Walking beside me, Bunnyrun mumbled under her breath.

“Were you close with that person?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know who they are. I barely went to school.”

“…You don’t know them at all? Then why did you act like you did?”

“I’m pretty sensitive to rejection.”

It was a reasonable response, but Bunnyrun spoke in a tone of disbelief.

“What if they keep bothering you? You should be more careful.”

I waved my finger in response, and Bunnyrun suddenly grabbed it.

“Bunnyrun?”

“You were annoying me so much that I reacted without thinking.”

Reacted without thinking? What is she, a cat? How could she just grab something waved in front of her?

I pulled my finger away and explained,

“Super developers like me keep separate contact methods for business and personal purposes.”

“You have two phone numbers?”

“No, just one.”

“…Then what’s this about separate methods?”

“For people like us, voice messenger is basically our version of social media.”

I barely checked regular messaging apps more than once a week.

Even with someone like Kim Inho, I had recently shared my voice messenger ID, so I probably wouldn’t check any other messages unless it was related to part-time work inquiries.

Bunnyrun stared at me for a moment, then bluntly said,

“Let’s just go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mitube was a platform where videos from all over the world were uploaded.

Gaming, music, short films, comedy, animation, documentaries, variety shows—there was no limit to the genres.

As a result, Mitube brought together people who wouldn’t normally cross paths.

Cyber leakers who chased after scandals, movie stars, university professors, little kids just entering elementary school, hardcore gamers, social butterflies, introverts—everyone could appear on the same screen.

It was like witnessing the golden age of the internet.

Among them, Jung Sangheon, the operator of the fan channel [It’s Not Thierry], was thrilled to see a new community post from Han Yurim on Mitube.

[Editor Recruitment Announcement]

Open Positions: TBD

Requirements: Ability to produce videos daily

Pay: Starting salary of 3 million won with additional incentives (both negotiable for increases)
If you’re interested, please attach a sample edited video and send in your résumé.
The announcement will be updated once the position is filled.

It was an excellent offer.

A starting salary of 3 million won was something only major corporate Mitube channels could afford.

On top of that, Han Yurim’s main content revolved around Eternal World, a goldmine in the Mitube editing scene.

There wasn’t much to edit, but the videos always performed well.

One Video a Day?

Even now, without getting paid, he was producing one video a day.

If he were paid, he could even manage two videos a day.

‘But I don’t know much about VTubers. What should I do?’

As you could probably guess from his fan channel name, [I’m Not Thierry], Jung Sangheon was a devoted Eternal World fanatic.

He was absolutely obsessed with Eternal World, and all the streamers he watched focused primarily on the game.

VTubers were, in a way, his polar opposite.

Although Han Yurim was quite different from a typical VTuber, she didn’t entirely avoid the usual VTuber antics either.

There were times she would act completely outlandish—like using a gothic lolita avatar of Han Yurim.

Back when he was running a fan channel, he didn’t feel the need to edit those parts out since it was an amateur effort.

But becoming an official editor would be a different story. He’d have to edit all the parts, even the ones he didn’t enjoy.

Could he really do it?

He hesitated for a moment, but then he decided to take the leap and submit his résumé.

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” he thought. There was no harm in trying.

Lying on his bed, Jung Sangheon stared at the ceiling, brimming with anticipation.

No one in the fan channel scene could compare to him.

Whether it was understanding the flow of gameplay, editing skills, or identifying funny moments, he was unmatched.

“Could I really get picked?”

With those thoughts running through his head, Jung Sangheon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning.

He woke up and let out a sigh.

“I totally got ahead of myself.”

Disappointed, he opened Han Yurim’s YouTube channel. Several videos had been uploaded overnight.

“Guess she already hired someone.”

Uploading multiple videos at once wasn’t great for the algorithm, but Han Yurim was never the type to care about such things.

Her attitude was clearly, “Those who want to watch will watch.”

Whoever got the job must’ve been clever. Including a sample video with the application was a smart move.

Even if it were him, Jung Sangheon would’ve hired that person.

And they were skilled too.

Their editing style was different from his, but their ability to identify funny moments was equal to, if not better than, his.

He’d been thoroughly beaten.

“Should I just delete my fan channel now?”

Feeling a twinge of melancholy, Jung Sangheon clicked on his channel’s most-viewed video, [Thierry Mad Movie NO.3].

Ding-ding. His phone rang.

The caller ID displayed an unknown number.

“Who could this be?” he thought. If it was a survey, he’d block it immediately.

Irritated, he answered the call with a curt voice.

“Hello?”

[Is this Jung Sangheon?]

The voice on the other end was pleasing to the ear.

It sounded slightly different from how it did on streams, so he almost didn’t recognize it.

It was Han Yurim.

“Y-yes, that’s me,” he stammered like an idiot, but she didn’t seem to care and got straight to the point.

[I’d like to hire you as my editor.]

“Editor?”

[Yes. Have you already committed to another job?]

“No, I haven’t.”

So, she hadn’t hired anyone yet?

Come to think of it, the job listing hadn’t specified a limit on the number of hires.

Whether she added more editors or not was entirely up to her.

[I’ll work around your schedule to meet with you. We can finalize the contract details in person.]

“Got it!”

Whatever the reason, the fact that Han Yurim wanted him as an editor was all that mattered.

Excitement quickly replaced the gloom he’d felt earlier.