I May Be a Virtual Youtuber, but I Still Go to Work

As the brief conversation wrapped up, the team entered the practice range to warm up before the match.

Do-hee glanced at the Parallel forum and smirked at the chaos unfolding.

[This is… an employee?]
[Attention, Momo, who is currently streaming]
[Calm down, she’s a civilian.]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[I’ve been crying every day without Employee D’s streams.]
[Momo, just announce she’s a second-gen member already.]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[Corporate employee standards are insanely high…]
[WiiiiiihahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.]

It was a bit early to bring it up, but looking at the mix of restraint, unhinged enthusiasm, and people flopping over in defeat…
It was safe to say today’s stream had already accomplished its goal.

Sure, there were “biochemical terror” warnings floating around (which was just Parallel slang for mass shitposting threats).
But in Do-hee’s experience, this was tame by comparison.

Now, it was time to negotiate.

This was the moment to make Gia’s scarcity clear—to let the audience know that even if she ever changed her mind and debuted, for now, she was a protected employee.

“Before we start the match, I just want to say something. Employee D does a lot of work for the company.

So please don’t spam the other members’ streams demanding collabs, asking her to show up, or forcing them to let you hear her voice. It’s exhausting for her, and it’s uncomfortable for the others.

But when opportunities like this come up, we’ll bring her along. So let’s settle on that, yeah? Deal?”

— Sounds fair.
— 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
— Ugh, that just makes me want her more.
— Why. Why. WHY ARE YOU A CORPORATE DRONE.

[Corporate drone? Excuse you. This is the best workplace ever.]

The funny thing was—somewhere along the way, Gia had completely adapted to the stream and started filling in the gaps with her own commentary.

In professional terms—she had warmed up.

She had no intention of becoming a streamer, but she was already a natural at knowing when to jump in and when to stay quiet.

Initially, the conversation would’ve wrapped up with Gia’s last line.

Now, she was starting to prolong the exchange—setting up her own assists.

“Oh, yeah? Best workplace ever? Wanna start working 16-hour shifts starting tomorrow?”

[I quit.]

— LOOOOOOL.
— She figured it out. Time to go full-time streamer.
— She saw the light.
— GET HER.

[I was kidding. I’m not quitting. I don’t have anywhere else to go.]

— Yes, you dooooooooo!
— WE’RE RIGHT HERE, DAMN IT.
— THERE ARE PEOPLE OUTSIDE YOUR MONITOR!!
— JOIN US.
— Hehehe.
— Take it easy.
— We’re not bad people, really.

Of course, she immediately rejected every “kind uncle” trying to lure her in with metaphorical candy.

That was what made her drive them insane.

She seemed like she’d be easy to convince.
She looked like the type to fall for peer pressure.

But then she’d just stomp on their goodwill like a stubborn child going, "No!"

Naturally, this only fueled their obsession.

And, since Gia was obviously closest to Do-hee, where would all that jealousy go?

Straight into exaggerating rumors about Do-hee.

:: An anonymous donor has contributed 1,000 Clouds! ::
:: Be honest—knowing Momo, she probably slapped you the first time you met, right? No way she just let Signal Flare off the hook. LOL. ::

— She must’ve pulled a knife on her and forced her into the company…
— The shocking dark truth behind this employment contract.

“Agh, here we go again.”

But Gia—despite being a menace—was also Do-hee’s most dedicated fan.

It was like…
Sure, she could talk shit about Do-hee. But if anyone else did, she’d be pissed.

[To be honest, CEO, I was actually terrified when I first met you. I thought you would be that kind of person.

But you were super nice. So I’m gonna stick around until the company dies.]

Even with that rare high praise from Gia herself, Do-hee could only let out a tired laugh.

That wasn’t helping.

If anything, it was making the rumors worse.

— She’s definitely brainwashed.
— BREAKING NEWS: Signal Flare found tied to an electric chair in Momo’s basement.
— I mean, she was a troll, but this is next-level.

Was Gia being sincere?
Or was she deliberately making things worse for Do-hee?

There was no way to know.

BOOM. BOOM.

But the double-barrel shots ringing out around Do-hee’s character were definitely telling her something.

No matter how much Gia had been socialized…
She was still Signal Flare.

And there was nothing she loved more than messing with Momo.

“…You’re using double-barrels again today?”

[Why are you even asking? Of course I am.]

Do-hee sighed in resignation. “You said we were deadweight. Are you not gonna use any other weapons?”

[Why are you even asking? Of course I’m not.]

“…So, from now on, you’re gonna stop bullying me and be a good person, right?”

A sharp question, trying to bait Gia into a slip-up.

But her dodge was just as clean.

[Nope.]

— LOOOOOOL.
— She’s never changing.
— What are these two even doing???
— They’re adorable.

***

I started playing Battle Colosseum because of Momo.

She threw herself into it with everything she had—screaming, crying, laughing.
I couldn’t understand what could make her so emotional over a game.

Then I picked it up myself… and discovered a hidden FPS talent I never knew I had.
Before I realized it, I had climbed all the way to Diamond rank.

And that was the turning point in my Momo juice farming career.

Diamond.

The peak of casual play.
The abyss where all hope went to die.

Sure, sometimes you ran into a fallen pro—some poor soul from the true top ranks who had plummeted down to our level.

But the majority?

They were bitter ghosts.

People who desperately wanted to climb higher… but never could.
People who had tried everything—and failed.

And so, they made it their mission to ensure that no one else climbed, either.

The Battle Colosseum Diamond queue was a parade of trolls, each with their own special brand of insanity.

• The ones who stripped down to their underwear and ran around the map at max speed, using only their hero’s movement buffs.
• The ones who deliberately killed teammates just to steal their loot—then revived them, just to do it again.
• The ones who acted like they were fighting, only to suddenly turn and shoot you in the back, stealing your kill at the last second.

I refused to be a victim.

And so, I made a decision.

Double-barrel shotguns. Two of them.

If a teammate so much as twitched like they were about to troll, I’d put them down.

Other guns gave people time to react—time to run, time to fight back.

But a double-barrel?
Two shots, point-blank, straight to the head—instant drop. No time to complain.

And once I put one troll down, the game suddenly became a lot cleaner.

I even made it to Master rank a few times this way.

Of course, some of them reported me.

But they couldn’t stop me.

I had twenty accounts. (I told the CEO a lower number on purpose.)

If one got banned, I’d just climb back up to Diamond on another, hunt down more trolls, and clean the server up all over again.

And so.

The double-barrel meta—the playstyle that had become my identity—
It had actually started as a holy crusade against trolls.

And "Human Signal Flare Kim Fireworks"—
The name that had struck terror into so many players—
Was the result of eight failed attempts before I finally perfected it.

…Sure, I had stared into the abyss a little too long.
Sure, I had become part of the abyss myself.

But that abyss had led me to meeting the CEO.
And now, we were here, working together.

No regrets.

And so, my belief remains unchanged.

If you truly want victory,
Then in a three-man queue, at least one teammate—if not two—is better off being discarded.

A useless ally is more dangerous than a competent enemy.

And when those deadweights are popular VTubers?

And when I can’t just teamkill them, because they’re my Oshi?

I have to strategically abandon them.

[Where are we dropping?]

I let the CEO make the call.
Then I set up my escape plan.

“Factory sounds good.”

[Factory? Not bad. Not a lot of people drop there these days.]

I nodded and jumped from the dropship.

As expected, the CEO and Rain followed after me.

I acted like I was going to land at Factory.
I pretended to commit.

Then, just before landing, I deployed my parachute early.

The CEO and Rain did the same.

But since I was braking as hard as possible, I rose higher than them—floating above their heads.

And then…

I turned my parachute away.

“Meet me at Sabondi Archipelago in twenty minutes.”

The reactions from my teammates came instantly.

[…? What the hell are you talking about? Employee D? Where are you going? Not there.]

[Employee D? Factory’s that way. Where the hell are you—?]

Ignoring them, I landed in a small town a little distance away.
Their confused voices became background noise as I calmly began looting.

[Why is she over there?]

[Guess she doesn’t want to share loot. Whatever. Leave her.]

They didn’t notice at first.

But eventually, the two radio DJs picked up on something being very wrong.

[Uh, CEO. I hear parachutes.]

[…Oh. Oh, shit. That’s… not just one or two people.]

Objective:

• Double-barrel shotgun x2
• Grenades & smokes (preferably sticky grenades over frag grenades)

Found one shotgun.
Two stacks of 20 shells.

Oh—another double-barrel.
Perfect.

Lacking smokes, but that can also be looted.

It was about time for things to really start.

And, sure enough, the radio station exploded.

[AAAAAAAH CEO THESE FUCKERS WHAT THE HELL!!]

[RAIN!! UPSTAIRS! GET TO THE ROOFTOP—AH, SHIT, THEY’RE DROPPING FROM THE ROOF TOO, WHAT THE HELL!!]

[AAAAAAH. THEY’RE INSANE. OH, OH GOD, I’M HIT. CEO. PUNCH THEM. OH FU—]

The town I was in was about 200–300 meters from Factory.

And yet, I could hear gunfire erupting like fireworks.

RATATATATATATATATATATA—

Factory had been peaceful when we dropped.

But that was before the zombie horde arrived.

Because that’s what this was.

A stream sniping apocalypse.

Rain was the worst player in history.

If people kept her alive, she’d grovel like they had saved her actual life.

Momo was obsessed with winning.

If people shot her up, she’d rage like they had just killed her real family.

And everyone wanted a piece of that reaction.

Momo’s average Battle Colosseum viewership: 8,000
Today’s collab peak: 15,000

A literal army of stream snipers.

A zombie apocalypse.

And I was letting them swarm.

[EMPLOYEE D!! WHEN ARE YOU COMING?? BRING A CAR OR SOMETHING!!!]

I repeated the same thing I had said earlier.

Because I still wasn’t ready to charge in.

Instead, I told them what Lü Bu told his allies when he was fashionably late to battle:

“Meet me at Sabondi Archipelago in fifteen minutes.”

[WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!?!]

If Rain weren’t currently getting eaten alive, she’d recognize the reference.

But right now?
She was a little busy.

I kept looting.

Final Item:

• Purple shield upgrade (one level below max)

I was set.

It was time to hunt.

[Aaaaaaaaah.]

[Rain, are you okay?!]

[CEO!! I’M GONNA DIE!!]

[WHERE ARE YOU?!]

[Mi—third floor—NO, 3RD FLOOR—I’M TRAPPED!!]

[JUST STAY ALIVE!! I’M COMING!!]

I took off running toward Factory.

Sliding, sprinting—combining movement tech, the way veterans did.

In the distance, I saw stream snipers moving in squads.

Firing in unison.

Turning the entire Factory into a bullet storm.

Like an actual fireworks festival.@@novelbin@@

Just for fun, I fired a test shot into the sky.

BOOM.

No reaction.

They weren’t even looking at me.

They were too busy hunting my teammates.

Perfect.

I slid down the hill.

A sniper stood at the edge of a low cliff.

I lined up my sights.

BOOM.

{{ Human Signal Flare Kim Fireworks >> (Headshot) iIIiiIIiIiIiIII }}