Chapter 304: Chapter 304

Mir’s test stream today was meant to serve as practice for dealing with so-called “toxic chat” using simulated viewer interactions by senior members of Illusionary Realm.

At least, that was the official reason.

It also served as good content to promote the 3rd generation of the agency, so General Manager Sori had brought Ha-eun along to the streaming room, where only Yuna and Ocean were initially present.

After all, both Ha-eun and her VTuber persona Diah were the most high-profile names in and out of Illusionary Realm.

“We can just cut Ha-eun’s name and alter her voice during editing...”

Recording had already started even before Ha-eun began giving her intense feedback on Mir’s singing stream.

Meaning, the moment Mir got absolutely obliterated by Ha-eun’s “Special Instructor Mode” was all on camera.

Even if Ha-eun’s critiques of Mir’s vocals were ruthless in tone, it wasn’t really a problem.

As a singer, Ha-eun more than had the skill to give meaningful feedback.

If anything, being too lenient might’ve come across as unprofessional. The source of this content ɪs 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕥⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥

“Didn’t expect them to bicker over anime... But it’s definitely entertaining.”

Ha-eun’s fingers flying across the keyboard at lightning speed during Mir’s test stream—the playful pride war between Diah’s Fullmetal Alchemist and Mir’s Attack on Titan—all of it, from Sori’s perspective, made for fantastic content.

However, at some point...

The debate between Diah and Mir escalated beyond the friendly WWE-style banter into full-on UFC territory.

Why either of them cared this much over an anime showdown was beyond comprehension.

Couldn’t they just agree that both were great shows and move on?

“What do you think, Manager? Shouldn’t we step in...?”

“...Yeah, I guess it’s about time.”

Any further and things might get genuinely heated between them.

They had more than enough good footage to promote the 3rd-gen—time to shut down this ego clash.

Sori walked up behind Ha-eun, who was hammering the keyboard like she meant to break it, and placed her hands firmly on both of her shoulders. Her eyes, however, were fixed on Mir across the room, still trying to keep the stream going.

And then, just seconds later—

“Why are you two so fired up? Neither of you beats One Piece anyway.”

There was no sincerity in Sori’s voice, but it was the kind of statement that simply couldn’t be ignored. Instantly, both Diah and Mir froze.

Like a switch being flipped, their verbal arrows that had been aimed at each other now turned toward Sori in perfect synchronization.

Exactly as expected, both voices rose in protest.

Sori, however, tuned them all out.

Ending the video with both of them yelling at her sounded just right.

“Alright, that’s enough test streaming for today. Good work, Mir.”

Call it the vibe of experience. They got the footage they needed, and Sori knew exactly when to pull the plug.

“Oh, right. A new café opened in the building. Ha-eun, you haven’t been yet, right?”

“Yep. Their fresh fruit smoothies are amazing.”

Having worked at the front lines of LUX for three years, Sori knew exactly how to manage the Illusionary Realm members.

Rather than Mir going up against Ha-eun directly, it was better to let the general manager mediate.

Just as everyone in the streaming room was preparing to head to the new café on the first floor—Mir, whose overheated head had finally started to cool down, opened her mouth hesitantly.

“Uh, um... Diah, sunbae...?”

Ha-eun turned to face her slowly.

And once again, Mir was met with those thick, dark sunglasses—and the feline glint in the eyes behind them.

Startled, Mir lost her nerve and couldn’t bring herself to ask for an autograph or photo.

Ha-eun tilted her head slightly, watching Mir with mild curiosity.

She looks like a kitten caught in the rain.

Round eyes shifting to the side to avoid hers.

A body that subtly trembled.

An unmistakably shy aura.

Despite likely being older than Ha-eun, she gave off the air of a younger sibling.

Apparently Yuna thought the same, because she suddenly reached out with a sharp snap and took off Ha-eun’s sunglasses.

“She’s too scared to talk to you. Lose the sunglasses.”

“...Huh? What’s scary about sunglasses?”

“The one who hits never remembers. Only the one who gets hit does.”

Yuna added that just seeing Ha-eun’s sunglasses gave her flashbacks to the recording studio.

She had her fair share of trauma from those early days of Illusionary Realm when Ha-eun’s “singer mode” feedback was notoriously brutal.

With Mir still unable to say anything, Yuna spoke for her.

“You wanted a photo with Ha-eun, didn’t you?”

“Wha? How did you...?”

“I wanted one too, a long time ago.”

Then, Yuna pressed Ha-eun right up against Mir’s side, took Mir’s phone, and snapped a shot of the two of them standing together.

She followed that up by handing over an autographed card.

“...Don’t sell my autograph online, okay?”

Whatever the process, Mir was just relieved to get a photo and a signature.

She couldn’t wait to go home and show it off—her parents and younger brother would be shocked.

But not long after, once they’d reached the café and Sori had treated everyone to drinks—

“Oh, right. Have you chosen your mentor, Mir?”

“Ah, um... Personally, I was thinking Cream sunbae—”

Just as the topic of mentorship came up, for some reason, Ha-eun, seated directly across from Mir, locked eyes with her in a way that felt piercing.

“...Mentor? What’s this about?”

Ha-eun asked Sori like she was hearing about the project for the first time.

Caught slightly off guard, Sori explained that Ha-eun hadn’t been included as a mentor because she was much busier than the other 1st-gens.

“It’s really nothing major. Just answering questions, maybe practicing collab streams together.”

“...Mir. Instead of Cream unnie, be my mentee.”

“Huh? With you, Diah sunbae? Are you... not too busy?”

“Even if I am, I’ll make time.”

Ha-eun gave her a soft, radiant smile.

Her gentle voice made it clear that she would gladly make time for a junior like Mir.

However, what followed was a tone that left no room for alternatives.

“...What, you don’t want me?”

And so, quite against her expectations, Mir ended up with Diah—not Cream—as her mentor.

Ha-eun’s gaze lingered on Mir, eyes narrowed in quiet intensity.

It felt like she was marking Mir as her personal project.

Even as she smiled, and handed over her phone number, and walked off somewhere with Sori, Ha-eun never once took her eyes off Mir.

“W-What was that...?”

Mir had no clue what Ha-eun’s true intentions were.

But she didn’t have time to worry about it.

The reason was simple:

2nd-gen member Nael suddenly appeared in the café with fellow trainee Tana and clung to Mir like a magnet.

“What were you talking about with Ha-eun?”

“Ah, um... She said she’d be my mentor...”

Petite, doll-like frame.

A head shorter than Mir.

And yet... a lethal expression.

“Ohhh, Ha-eun’s gonna be your mentor... When did you two get so close? I’m really curious now.”

Why is this happening to me...?

Whether for good or bad, Mir was now the center of attention.

And being naturally timid, she could only scream silently inside her head.

She had no idea where it all started going wrong.

Truly... workplace life was hell.

Three days after Mir’s test stream.

On the set of a drama being filmed just outside of Seoul—

“Why the hell did this girl suddenly bring a coffee truck...?”

Da-yeon, who had just arrived at the filming location, fell speechless at the sight of a coffee truck printed with her best friend’s name.The fact that said best friend was working at the truck herself didn’t exactly help.

“What kind of situation is this supposed to be?”

“No one told me that.”

“Ah, surprise coffee truck vlog.”

Brazen, if you called it that. Bold, if you were being generous.

Da-yeon’s head was already shaking side to side in disbelief.

Of course, all of this was being captured on Ha-eun’s action cam. Maybe this is what it meant to be obsessed with “content value.” At this point, Ha-eun was practically inventing content from thin air.

“Everything’s content these days.”

Only after receiving an iced Americano directly from Ha-eun did Da-yeon return to the set.

Naturally, Ha-eun’s coffee truck vlog didn’t end there. She kept working at the truck afterward.

“Wow... I’ve never seen a celebrity actually working at the coffee truck before.”

After serving the final order, Ha-eun decided she might as well stick around and watch Da-yeon film.

She casually blended in with the crew on set.

This was, in fact, the other reason Ha-eun had come to the set that day.

“The plague has already spread to Gaegyeong. You must flee before it’s too late—for the sake of the royal family and the nation—!”

The male lead of Dynasty, a historical drama starring Da-yeon—A recently skyrocketing young actor playing Crown Prince Lee Jin.

And in Ha-eun’s past-life memories, the man who was once rumored to be dating Da-yeon.

He died in a sudden accident during a variety show shoot, leaving Da-yeon frozen at his funeral.

“...Cut! That was great~.”

“Jeong-hoon, your acting just keeps getting better.”

The clean-cut face on the far side of the set caught Ha-eun’s eye.

Of course, he hadn’t started dating Da-yeon yet.

Not that Ha-eun believed this version of Da-yeon would fall in love the same way her past self did.

“Ah, Da-yeon. Make sure to give it your all in the shouting scene later.”

It was worth keeping an eye on.

If possible, Ha-eun needed to take precautions to ensure that neither Da-yeon nor Jeong-hoon would meet a tragic fate.

“Cause of death... accidental fall.”

Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Jeong-hoon.

Her past-life memories rose up, step by step, recalling the events leading to his death.

“They said his legs gave out while hiking...”

Strictly speaking, there wasn’t much Ha-eun could do just yet.

The variety show where he would later die hadn’t even cast him yet, and she had no real connection to Jeong-hoon at this point.

So, first step: break the ice.

The last scene scheduled for today involved Da-yeon and Jeong-hoon filming together.

She planned to approach him once that was done.

“If I could just stop him from being cast in the show altogether, that’d be best...”

As Ha-eun was deep in thought, trying to figure out how to prevent the accident—

Da-yeon, spotting her hiding among the staff, came up and spoke.

“Lee Ha-eun. Do you have any plans later today?”

“...Your stream’s not until 10 p.m. What about before that?”

Following Da-yeon led her to the director of Dynasty.

And almost immediately—

“Yes. It’s a short scene—playing a palace maid who stalls for time so the Crown Prince and Crown Princess can escape—”

In the end, Ha-eun accepted the cameo.

After all, Da-yeon had done a cameo in Veterans not long ago.

However, Dynasty was a mix of historical drama and zombie apocalypse.

So Ha-eun’s cameo as a palace maid would also involve a brutal chase scene... as a zombie, hunting down Da-yeon and Jeong-hoon.

Perhaps that was why—

“Lee Ha-eun, go easy on me.”

“Then I’ll have to ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ crawl.”

“...Just make sure you’re slower than me.”

Even as Ha-eun finished her zombie makeup and costume, Da-yeon couldn’t hide the mix of worry and doubt in her eyes.

She’d seen enough of Ha-eun’s wild side to know exactly what it meant to be chased by her.

On the other hand, Jeong-hoon, who was meeting Ha-eun for the first time, had no clue.

All he did was introduce himself politely, saying he’d heard a lot about her from Da-yeon.

He had no idea what was going on in her head.

“If I can’t stop the casting, then I have to stop the accident.”

“He fell because his legs gave out—if he improves his stamina, maybe that won’t happen?”

“Should I start training him now...?”

At the very least, preparation was possible. And that was why Ha-eun reached a conclusion in her mind: build up Jeong-hoon’s physical strength just in case.

“Yes? Do you have a question?”

“So, according to the script, Crown Prince Lee Jin is supposed to run like his life depends on it...”

Would you like to run like your life actually depends on it?

Her voice was calm, almost emotionless—no sign of teasing. Jeong-hoon tilted his head, confused by her question.

“Wouldn’t it be too fast if I ran full speed?”

“Even full speed might not be enough.”

What... does that mean?

He stared at her, completely bewildered.

But ten minutes later—

Ha-eun, now fully transformed into a zombie, charged at him with cheetah-level speed.

Despite the awkward shamble of a typical zombie, her velocity was anything but undead.