Chapter 9: How did I end up recording?

“Ah, um. Oh, yes.”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re mixed?”

“Both my parents are pure Koreans.”

“Oh…”

After Manager Park Ki-hyuk left, the next person who arrived was someone set to be my assistant.

Her gentle and soft demeanor might make her look young, but this woman is actually 32 years old—a married woman with six years of marriage and a child.

Honestly, I expected someone extraordinary, but I didn’t think it would be someone who seemed so gentle.

And married, at that.

I stared at the woman sitting before me.

“So, your name is…”

“I’m Jiwoo Park!”

“Alright.”

Ah. Why are all the people I meet so energetic? It’s exhausting.

Observing Jiwoo, who energetically introduced herself, I nudged Tsupi with my elbow.

Talking to people drains me, so I desperately needed Tsupi’s help.

“I’ll handle the introductions from here. First, about Jiwoo…”

As I stepped back slightly, Tsupi immediately took over and started talking with Jiwoo. Reliable as always, she was a true professional.

Feeling excluded from the conversation, I quietly sipped my green grape ade.

Listening in for a moment, I realized the content was too confusing to follow, so I let my mind wander.

‘Creating my avatar shouldn’t be too difficult. If I use Model #5 as the base and complete the rigging, it’ll take about a week.’

Afterward, I could focus on the tasks Märchen assigned, and as long as the debut date wasn’t moved up, I’d have enough time.

With my naturally good voice, recording shouldn’t be an issue either.

‘Or maybe not?’

After all, there’s a reason vocal academies exist. A good voice doesn’t necessarily mean good singing skills.

Lost in my thoughts while watching Tsupi and Jiwoo talk, I suddenly heard my name.

“Then, Muil, Jiwoo has prepared a portfolio. Would you like to take a look?”

“Uh, y-yes.”

Oh no, I bit my tongue.

“Adorable!”

“Thank you for the compliment. Let me take a look first.”

“Sure!”

With her energetic response, I took the tablet that Tsupi handed over and began reviewing Jiwoo’s artwork.

There were about 100 drawings in total, and they stood out compared to other art I’d seen.

This wasn’t just “well-done”—her style and direction closely matched mine.

With a bit of refinement, she could become an excellent assistant.

“Do you, by chance, watch KR MärchenLive often? This kind of art style wouldn’t come about otherwise.”

“Yes! I’m a big fan of subculture and watch a lot of VTubers! Among them, I love KR Märchen the most!”

Her work was so good that I wondered why I hadn’t come across her commissions earlier.

As I flipped through each piece, I noticed a lot of fan art and recreations of the cast from various generations.

“Excuse me… If it’s alright, could I get your autograph?”

While examining the portfolio, Jiwoo shyly made her request.

“It’s just that I’ve always been curious about the ‘mamas’ who created the kids!”

“The kids?”

“I call all the generations of KR Märchen ‘kids’!”

“Ah, I see.”

That makes sense. Calling them “sisters” or “aunties” might feel odd at her age.

But then, I realized she was 12 years older than me. Would she call me a “kid,” too?

The thought of what she might call me in the future suddenly worried me.

“I’d be happy to sign something for you, but only after the contract is finalized.”

“Gasp. R-really?”

“Yes.”

I handed the tablet back to Tsupi and stood up.

Personality is already evident in appearance, and I thought her skills were fairly decent. Most importantly, her style seemed similar to mine.

A more universal, polished aesthetic. I was slightly worried about whether she could handle smooth, uninterrupted frame-by-frame work, but that could be addressed over time. Rushing into high-speed production never ended well.

For now.

I left the two of them and headed to the counter. What should I drink this time?

As I stood in front of the kiosk, selecting a beverage, Tsupi and Jiwoo approached, having finished their contract discussion.

“Why not try chamomile? I’ve been drinking it a lot lately, and it’s quite good.”

“I’m not really into tea…”

The meeting seemed to be over, so I figured I’d just leave. But before that, I paused.

“Jiwoo, where would you like me to sign?”

“Oh, just a moment!”

Jiwoo fumbled with her phone and pointed to the back of it.

Wait, she actually wants me to sign there? Seriously?

I looked at her with disbelief, and she cheerfully nodded.

“Yes! Please sign it there!”

Of course. Passionate fans can be a little extreme.

With the contracts for the 11th generation and my assistant finalized that day, I could have taken more time to discuss and deliberate, but sometimes it’s better to settle things quickly.

From that day onward, I dove straight into creating my avatar.

The base was Model #5 and my own likeness.

My goal was to create an entirely new character, one that felt completely distinct from Model #5.

Jiwoo wasn’t involved in this process. Although we had a contract, her role was focused on designing outfits for the generations up to the 10th and continuing any work I couldn’t complete.

Given my frequent absences, the latter task would likely take up most of her time.

‘And my next schedule is…’

While working, my thoughts drifted to the upcoming schedule.

I’d likely be contacted soon to record the debut song.

Once that was done, there’d be a music video to produce, and I’d need to greet the senior generations…

‘Ah. They’re my seniors now.’

I, who was always referred to as “Papa,” had now become “Mama,” and soon I’d be the rookie.

The tangled hierarchy gave me a momentary headache, but I wasn’t one to dwell on such things.

I just needed to focus on my work. Even if I’d be among some of the biggest VTubers with millions of subscribers.

Surviving among them was enough for me.

At Märchen’s recording studio.

I never thought I’d find myself in a recording booth.

Life truly is unpredictable. With that thought, I opened the door.

Upon entering, I noticed someone was already there.

Her name was Imari, a high-ranking VTuber from KR MärchenLive.

She was a third-generation VTuber, a massive presence fluent in Japanese (her native language) as well as three others.

Her avatar embodied the concept of a foreign minister, mirroring her real-life personality. Actually, that was just who she was.

“Hmm? What brings you here? This isn’t a place ordinary people can access.”

“I’m here to record. You’re 3rd generation Imari, right?”

“That’s correct, but…”

I immediately recognized her through her voice. If not for her singing, I might not have known it was Imari.

‘It’s probably fine to introduce myself.’

After a brief pause, I spoke.

“Hello, I’m Yuwol, set to debut as part of the 11th generation. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh? I see. So, you’re the…”

You’re the… What? Why didn’t she finish the sentence?

I looked at Imari with curiosity, and she shook her head.

“Never mind. It’s nothing. Oh, are you here to record your debut song?”

“Yes, I came for that. I didn’t expect to see you here, Imari.”

“Haha, I just finished up, actually. Also, calling me ‘Imari’ sounds too formal. Can’t you just call me ‘unni’ (older sister)? And while you’re at it, let’s drop the formalities.”

“I’m more comfortable with formal speech. But feel free to speak casually, Imari-sunbaenim.”

“Unni.”

“Pardon?”

“Just try calling me unni.”

Should I just leave? Where is Tsupi? She said she’d be here to assist with the recording.

“Imari-unnie.”

“Hmm!”

I played along with Imari’s insistence while passing the time until Tsupi finally walked through the door.

“Oh, Tsupi?”

“Huh? Imari? Are you here because of the cover song?”

“Partly, yes. I also had a solo part for the 3rd generation’s group song.”

“Oh, I see. This is a bit tricky. Yuwol, would you mind moving to the recording booth next door?”

“Imari-unnie said she’s done. I think we can just use this room.”

“Imari… unnie?”

See? This is exactly why I wanted to stick with calling her sunbaenim.

Tsupi’s expression turned slightly grim as she directed her gaze toward Imari.

Imari, now sweating nervously under Tsupi’s stare, looked at me for help.

What am I supposed to do? I can’t fix this.

It might look like I was ignoring the situation, but what could I do? Imari’s insistence on being called unnie led to this.

Of course, it’s common for members of the same generation or close generations to address each other as unnie or dongsaeng (younger sibling). All the KR members do it.

But I haven’t even debuted yet. If I treat Imari like an unnie now, there’s bound to be confusion when we’re on a live broadcast together. Viewers will assume it’s our first time meeting.

Calling her unnie would mean I’d have to explain the whole backstory, and that’s just a hassle.

As Imari received a light scolding from Tsupi, she turned to me and asked, “Do I still have to be called unnie next time?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Tsupi muttered before pushing Imari out of the room.

Afterward, she turned to me and asked, “Shall we start the recording?”

“Yes.”

“But before that…”

“Huh?”

Tsupi placed her hands firmly on my shoulders with a serious expression.

“Can you call me unnie, too?”

“No.”

Why would I?