The school bell rang, echoing down the hallways, and Ivan wasted no time. The moment class was dismissed, he shoved his books into his bag and bolted out the door. Winter break had officially begun, but more importantly, tonight was the night.
The night everything would start.
He didn't stop to chat with anyone, didn't linger in the courtyard like the other students. His mind was already racing ahead. As soon as he got home, he would release his new Roblox obby and upload his very first YouTube video. His hands itched just thinking about it.
By the time he burst through the front door, his heart was hammering in his chest.
"Finally," he muttered, tossing his backpack aside and powering on his PC.
The screen lit up, and Ivan immediately got to work. First came the Emo Obby.
He had spent hours last night polishing it, making sure every platform and decoration looked perfect. He even tested it multiple times until the jumps flowed naturally, challenging but not frustrating. It wasn't just an obby—it was a vibe. Dark skies, floating platforms, red and black accents, even eerie music in the background. He had created something with personality, something that could catch the wave of a trend before it exploded.
"Alright… here we go."
He clicked Publish.
The obby was live.
But Ivan barely paused to watch the upload confirmation. His real focus was on the other tab—the one with the editing software open.
This was it. His first YouTube video.
He leaned forward, scanning the rough cut he'd thrown together over the past two days. It was clunky, sure. His editing skills weren't great yet. But he had a plan. He wasn't trying to reinvent the wheel—he was copying Fearless, one of the funniest and fastest-growing YouTubers from his last life.
"Cut, zoom, sound effect, repeat. Simple, effective," Ivan whispered under his breath.
Fearless had built his empire on comedic timing—sharp cuts, exaggerated zoom-ins, perfectly placed sound effects, and witty commentary. Ivan remembered it all. He had spent countless nights binging those videos in his past life, laughing until his sides hurt.
And now? He was going to do the same.
The editing took longer than expected. He rewatched clips, cut out awkward pauses, adjusted timing, added subtitles, and hunted down sound effects. His room grew darker as the hours passed, the only light coming from the glow of his monitor.
At last, the video was ready.
"First one down."
Ivan uploaded it to his freshly made channel. The progress bar inched forward, and when it hit 100%, his chest tightened. His heart was in his throat.
He stared at the "Video Published" notification for a long moment.
This was it. The start of his content grind.
"Please work," he muttered, but deep down, he knew better. Nobody ever blew up on the first video. Not even Fearless.
Still, he let himself dream as he crawled into bed. He pictured hundreds, maybe thousands of views by morning. Comments flooding in, people calling the video hilarious, begging for more. His channel exploding overnight.
For the first time in a long while, Ivan fell asleep with a genuine smile on his face.
The next morning, his alarm buzzed.
Ivan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and immediately reached for his phone. His YouTube app opened in a blur of motion. His channel page loaded.
And then his stomach dropped.
0 views. 0 comments. 0 likes.
Absolutely nothing.
His jaw tightened. He refreshed. Once. Twice. Ten times. Still nothing.
"Seriously?" His voice cracked, the sting of disappointment burning in his chest.
He had stayed up late, poured hours into editing, modeled his video after one of the most successful creators of his past timeline… and for what? Nothing.
All day, the thought gnawed at him. On the bus to school, in the classroom, during lunch—his mind refused to let it go.
What went wrong? Was the thumbnail bad? The title too boring? Maybe his editing wasn't funny after all. Maybe copying Fearless had been a mistake.
By the time he got home, Ivan was spiraling. He stared at the analytics screen, watching the empty numbers mock him. He hated it.
And then—
A ping broke the silence.
He blinked, refreshing the page. His heart skipped a beat.
1 comment.
His eyes widened, and he clicked instantly.
It wasn't spam. It wasn't a bot.
It was from a user named casavincent.
"Bro, this was super funny. Can't wait for more content!"
Ivan froze, rereading the words over and over again.
It wasn't much. Just one comment. But to him, it felt like the universe had reached down and pulled him back from the edge of despair.
His lips curled into a grin.
"Somebody actually liked it."
His chest swelled with warmth. For the first time since uploading, he felt alive again. One random guy on the internet thought he was funny—and that was enough.
That was everything.
He shot up from his chair, his determination reignited.
"Alright then. If one person laughed, I'll make ten laugh. And if ten laugh, I'll make a hundred laugh. I can do this."
He opened his editing software without hesitation. His second video was already waiting.
This time, he was sharper. Faster. He trimmed every second of dead air, doubled down on the comedic cuts, and pushed harder on the jokes. His instincts screamed that it wasn't perfect—but it was better.
Hours later, he hit Publish again.
The video went live.
The next morning, Ivan held his breath as he checked his phone.
12 views. 2 likes.
It wasn't much. To anyone else, it was laughable. Twelve views couldn't even fill a classroom.
But to Ivan? It was progress.
"Better than zero," he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He wasn't delusional—he knew this was going to be a long, brutal grind. He knew most creators failed, burning out after months of shouting into the void. But he couldn't stop now.
Because this wasn't just for fun. It wasn't just for himself.
It was for his family.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His younger brother's face flashed in his mind, along with his grandmother, who had always sacrificed for him. He remembered his mother's struggles, the way her life had spiraled in the last timeline.
He couldn't let history repeat itself.
"This is my way out," he whispered. "I have to do this. For them."
His fingers tightened around the mouse.
The grind had only just begun.