Chapter 4: Upload
The fan made its usual lazy sweep from left to right, blades whirring like a tired bird flapping its wings. Outside, a man was arguing with a rickshaw driver over a five taka change. Life in Dhaka hadn't changed. But Ash had.
A little.
He sat at his desk, headphones around his neck, files neatly organized across his desktop. Three folders labeled:
$10 SuperJumpGuy
$100 Shadow Steps
$1000 ChronoFall
He rubbed his eyes, rolled his shoulders, and opened the editing software.
[System Plugin Activated: Auto Tools Ready]
The system's assistance didn't take away control, but it made everything easier—snap cuts aligned perfectly, volume auto-leveled, stutters removed without breaking the flow. A panel on the side quietly offered suggestions as he worked:
[Suggestion: Use upbeat lo-fi music for intro.]
[Suggestion: Add sarcastic subtitle for banana boss moment.]
[Suggestion: Insert zoom-in effect when protagonist says "PEEL THE TRUTH".]
He nodded slightly and accepted them one by one.
The editing process took longer than he expected—not because it was difficult, but because he cared. Every second mattered. He rewatched clips, adjusted transitions, trimmed pauses, made sure every part kept the viewer's curiosity alive.
There was no audience yet, but it didn't matter.
He worked like someone was watching.
By late afternoon, the final cut was done.
Title screen appeared first:
Creepy Crap Presents
"$10 vs $100 vs $1000: I Paid Devs to Make Weird 2D Games"
Ash leaned back and let the preview play from start to end. He didn't cringe at his voice this time—not because he liked how it sounded, but because it didn't sound like him. The system-modulated voice felt distant, cooler, a version of him with smoother edges.
And when it ended—after fifteen minutes of chaos, sarcasm, and indie creativity—he quietly exhaled.
It was ready.
He opened his Utube channel dashboard.
Zero subscribers. Zero videos. No banner yet.
He typed the title, filled in the description with game credits, and added:
"Three devs. Three budgets. Too much weirdness. Welcome to Creepy Crap."
Then he uploaded the thumbnail—three blurry screenshots with huge yellow text that said:
"I SPENT $1110 ON THIS TRASH??"
The system didn't interfere with that. Maybe it knew clickbait was part of survival.
Ash hovered over the Publish button.
He didn't expect fame. Or comments. Or even ten views.
But he still hesitated.
Not out of fear. Out of respect.
He had spent five years with someone who said, "Maybe one day, you'll do something cool." And when she left, he believed he never would.
Now, quietly, with no applause and no one watching, he was doing something.
Even if it was just for him.
He clicked Publish.
[Video Uploaded]
[System Syncing to Analytics Feed]
[Engagement Tracker Initialized]
He closed the laptop.
He didn't obsess over stats. He didn't refresh the page every five minutes. He didn't even tell anyone—not that there was anyone left to tell.
Instead, he made rice, egg curry, and sat on the floor with his plate, phone nearby but screen down.
Outside, the sun dipped low, painting the clouds a dirty gold. A power cut came briefly, and the fan stilled. A few minutes later, it resumed like nothing happened.
At night, lying on his thin mattress, Ash stared at the ceiling fan again.
Still spinning. Still tired.
But today, at least, it spun under a different kind of sky.
And somewhere out there, a video titled "I SPENT $1110 ON THIS TRASH??" was floating on the internet, waiting to be seen.
End of Chapter 4