"Yes, I will dance butt naked in front of the Washington Monument at 10 million subscribers.
Don't mention it again, just subscribe~Nyaa!!!" I said while making cat-like paws with both my hands.
[Titfuker69: Kill yourself.]
[Hustlingemo291: Grown ahh man btw.]
[Touchmeplz27: Your talent is harassing citizens for clout!! We really made the wrong person famous.]
[Dekusucks88: He literally bought a yellow color Porsche 9/11!! So clearly, what a waste of human resources!]
'Aww, they love me so much.' I chuckled to myself, glancing at the $10+ super chats they sent for the messages to reach my eyes.
"It pays for the Rollies and cars. What color is your Porsche 9/11, if I may?"
I grinned shamelessly, flashing my 32 bright diamond teeth at the camera placed neatly over a long white wooden table that also held a 36-inch monitor and a PC glowing with dark blue lights.
I sighed while sipping the sweet lemonade, staring passively at fifty more [KYS] and similar messages. While reading the chat, my eyes glanced over the clock beside the screen.
'_Eh, it's been 10 hours?!_' I got ready to end the stream—time for the well-deserved rest—and glanced again at the camera with a mischievous smile.
"Being a prank YouTuber while streaming daily is a hard job! Even harder than working in mines or fighting in wars. Y'all won't get my struggles!" I groaned, leaning back on my $3000 comfy gaming chair as the AC's cold gust brushed against my face.
[Ieatcats23: No way bro said that!]
[Goonerauthor: Is this guy for real?!]
Obviously not. Rage-baiting them was so easy.
"Anyways, we are just seven thousand subscribers away from ten million, so I better see that number the first thing I wake up! "Faking being a bank robber in public (Gone wrong)" is scheduled for tomorrow. Stay awake for it!" With that, I finally pressed the end stream button.
"Tch, only 5 grand..."
I bit my lips, getting up from the chair, and fell on my back on the bed with the pillowy-soft mattress just steps away.
'_Gonna need to do another collab with those disgusting pieces of shits._' I sighed while throwing away my phone, closing my stinging, itchy eyes.
"Eat something first! You somehow always manage to miss your dinner— it's not good for you." A dangerously sharp but concerned feminine voice reverberated from the other side of the room. The voice which only sounded sweet to me.
"Yeah, yeah, I was just about to!!" I replied, "Are you done with the work? Should I order something for you too?"
My eyes caught the back of a blonde-haired woman, wearing a short black crop top that revealed her entire white waist, matching it with black yoga pants, and a perfect curved body, sitting lazily in a lotus position on the gaming chair while typing aggressively.
She was my lone editor, and... frankly, the only person who gave a fuck about me at this point.
"Pizza, plain one! Oh, ice cream too." Alya replied happily, finally turning around, staring deeply at me with serene ocean-blue eyes.
I nodded, "Were there any other donations?" I asked casually, and her mood did a 180, her face losing all its light.
"Are they that bad?!" I asked, lifting up my chest to look at her properly with worry.
"Sighh, you really are an idiot." She shook her head in exasperation and went silent.
After a few seconds, I finally understood the reason for her sudden mood change. She had lectured me a thousand times before about not making it all about work and basically preached 'touch grass, and get a life.'
"Don't tell me, Alya!" I shouted back, fidgeting my phone back in my hands to order food without any worry about how much money I made. I am a changed man! Can't make my favorite fan for the last eight years sad.
Alya smiled, the brightest smile in months, if not for some stupid Korean comedy novel that we read together. For some reason, I smiled back too.
I kept staring at her smile like a weirdo for a few minutes as if frozen in time, before—
Alya slowly stretched her arms with a long yawn and quickly walked over to the bed, startling me to attention as she fell face-first on the fluffy bed—with just an inch of difference between us, her lavender perfume filling my nostrils.
"Are you free now?" I asked with a forced smile, trying to end the rising awkwardness.
She nodded slowly, still staring at the ceiling, "There are... some serious allegations against you. I was trying to argue but..." her eyes shut closed, "I can't."
"Ah, you're just tired. I know you're a better rage-baiter than me! What are the allegations, anyway?" I asked curiously while pressing the order button and finishing the transaction.
"That robbery video— The info' on how you got arrested and stayed in jail is somehow public. That Uber guy you pretended was the getaway driver got tackled on the ground at gunpoint by police..." She twisted towards me, her voice uncomfortable.
"Ahh, must be my dumb family or friends. I had told a few…" I rubbed my temples. My family kinda hated me, saying it wasn't a real job, and how I should go to college, work hard in office jobs, get married. Of course, I didn't listen to shit.
Friends were worse; either they looked down on me for being a shut-in or were jealous of my money without 'working'.
"Maybe… I remember they had plotted against you before and revealed a text you sent years ago to the public. But still, it's your fault!" Alya showed no sympathy.
I smiled sheepishly. The latest video was too risky. I literally pretended to run away with duffel bags filled with money, wearing a black mask, in public. It was stupid, but definitely one of my best works from how much money it will make.
I sighed, "Why would you even try to argue? I don't really care if some guy in his mom's basement hates me." I replied casually, opening the Webnovel app on my smartphone to relax, reading my favorite novel.
Her eyes narrowed tightly at me, who didn't even acknowledge the Uber driver's fate.
But, he didn't die or anything, right? Why should I feel guilty over it?
"You already got arrested thrice! That 10 million promise... it will get you in a lot of trouble. Cancel that idea and make an apology video. Also, send comfort money to that Uber driver." Her eyes flashed with concern.
I glanced back at her, replying after a deep breath, "I don't care. An apology video is impossible; it will ruin my _character_. Just send some money to him yourself and inform all my lawyers about it." I yawned; she was just way too serious sometimes.
'Views will only increase if I get into drama anyway.'
"It was funny." I shrugged while opening [Chapter 1498: The Demon King's Sword.] of the book [Samurai of the Crimson Dawn: I Cut Spells with Steel.]
It was a pretty cliché hero vs. villain story in which the talentless, orphan, bullied MC starts to hear the voice of a samurai from the Sengoku period, a reincarnate from the 'modern' world, and they save the world.
Alya grabbed me by my collar, "But... It's not funny! It's just scummy. You were funny. The kind of funny that could... completely change someone's mood in hard times." her lips quivered.
"You were making an impact...
Now, it's all just about views and subscribers." Her voice sounded nostalgic and dim.
"...Why do you care? As far as I remember, you're just my editor, not my mother."
"For me, it was always about money," I yelled, and her grip loosened fully.
But the next second, my body trembled violently. She was way more than an employee. She just wanted to help me...
What I wanted the most was the freedom to live my life the way I want, and I believed it was only possible with money, tons of it.
'It was true to a certain degree, but...
I am not so sure now.'
All I do is make videos, eat, read novels and play video games, then sleep, and I have been repeating this for the last eight years now. Is this really the life I wanted?
"I-I see. I am sorry." Her eyes widened before her small face became completely expressionless.
She wasn't in the wrong. I had changed.
But, I can accept a _miserable_ life if it means not being around my family or getting a _job_.
But.….. I don't want to lose Alya. Even if I had to delete my channel and work an office job right now.
As long as she keeps thinking about me.
"N-no, Alya, it's my faul-"
Ding! Ding!
The doorbell rang twice. The delivery guy was here. Ten minutes had already passed?
I instantly pushed myself up from the fluffy bed. If I apologize while she has cold and sweet strawberry ice cream on her tongue, my chances will be higher. I ran to the seven-foot-tall front door, barefoot.
'He's pretty early for how high this apartment is—I guess he's expecting a tip...' I rubbed my temples while pulling out a ten-dollar bill from my wallet. I personally never liked tipping, but I didn't want him to spit in my food the next time either.
With all its size and built quality, the door didn't even have a peephole. And I was getting an odd chill not knowing who was outside—maybe just my paranoia after being doxxed a few times.
...
Even with my habit of expecting the worst, the sight beyond pushing the heavy door exceeded anything I imagined, my pupils dilating to the limit.
"So you're the brat with the big mouth?" Three men stood before me, all dressed in midnight black from head to toe.
They formed a triangle right outside the door's border—two in the back, faces completely hidden beneath ski masks, and one in front, the largest of the group—built like a pro bodybuilder.
Unlike the others, he wore no mask. His gruff, mature face was exposed, marked by a long scar running over his right eye. That eye, once green, now looked dead and hollow.
The worst part: they were all armed. The man in front carried two assault rifles on his back and a pistol under his belt. The men behind already had their assault rifles in their hands. The cold barrels shone under the dim doorway light, ready to shoot hundreds of bullets at any moment.
"Loki, is everything alright?" Alya's soft voice reverberated from inside the room as the scarred man chuckled, his eye narrowing towards the sound's direction.
My face darkened, but it soon twisted into panic, snapping me out of the original shock as I saw all three of them grinning with malicious intent.
I immediately pushed the thick door with all my strength, trying to touch the knob to twist it shut.
But, an immovable foot was already in between the little gap left, unaffected against all my strength. I can't overpower them...
"There must be a misunderstanding!" I shouted out the door while still pushing the main door.
But, the problem was— there wasn't.
I could guess who these people were. I had made a diss on a cartel leader a few months back as a joke—it didn't have any disrespectful jokes either. But it was retarded of me nonetheless.
I was happy at first as this had been the one video that pushed me up from 5 million subs to near 10. But it soon changed as I got multiple online and offline death threats, and I had to move places seventeen times now, being extra careful about getting doxed. I thought they would just leave me alone after warnings, thinking of me as a stupid 21-year-old chasing clout.
But alas.... They caught me lackin'.
"El Karton sent us. Is there still a misunderstanding?" With one casual push of the scarred man, I fell on the marble ground with a thud.
He walked directly inside the apartment, pulling out his silver pistol towards me without wasting any time, grinning sadistically, clearly enjoying the dumb, scared look on my face.
'Will I really die because of a stupid joke...?'
But contrary to what he thought, I didn't feel any fear for my life. It was a look of disgust. I was disgusted at how weak and fragile I was. One click. I am dead.
'And because of how weak you are, Alya, the only person who cared for you, will face a fate worse than death.' Men like them won't just kill her...
'All because of you.'
My body trembled as my breath began to choke me. I didn't even get to apologize.
'No!! I won't accept this!' I started to crawl towards the scarred man with shaking legs, my eyes sharpening with pure determination and adrenaline—It was do or die now.
He watched me crawl closer to his legs and touched the trigger, pressing it lightly, but not fully. He wanted to enjoy me begging for my life. But I didn't; it would be pointless and naive.
The tears, the fear, the self-pity and hatred, the wish to give up and die, all vanished as I wore the character I was so used to by now. The guy who could rage-bait millions of people, the guy who could beef with cartels and police just to make a point.
The real me.
"Whoa, whoa, compadre! You're making a huge mistake," I got up from my knees, grabbing the man's thick forearm softly.
My voice dropped to a theatrical, shushy tone, as if I was telling a scary story to a child.
"You think I'd be off air right now?" I grinned equally as wide as the man was, but my grin revealed bright white diamond teeth—gesturing them with a nod towards my gaming setup where I was just streaming.
The camera's tiny red "on" light was still glowing.
I was too lazy to close the streaming software and just ended the stream alone, leaving the preview window active and, crucially, recording.
"The world already knows who sent you and why they sent you. You three are that fat bitch's little goons!" I patted his back as I saw him boiling with anger, "But, it's still controllable if you just leave..."
I brought my mouth closer to the scarred man's ear, whispering softly, "I will say I was just trolling to the viewers and that you all were paid actors, part of the prank. They will definitely buy it because I have done it before."
My voice was reasonable and friendly, and I could see doubt forming in their eyes. I pointed at the silver pistol, "But, if you press it, the world will know what you did. El Karton, and your face is going to be on every news network from here to Mexico City. You really want to be the guys who made him the most famous drug lord since Escobar?
Boss won't like that kind of heat," I said while shaking my head.
Surely, their orders were to kill me quietly and avoid creating an international media spectacle. And the man, seemingly the group leader, wasn't even covering his face.
Even though they worked under one of the top Mafias, they were barely invincible in a small part of Mexico. If what I said was true, they wouldn't be able to leave New York alive.
He couldn't be that loyal that he would get him and his buddies caught or killed by NYC police?
Just as I saw their faces get dimmer and dimmer, I whispered with a cold smile, "My fans will start thousands of petitions and protests to kill every last one of you, and eventually, someone will have to take action." I shrugged, preparing the final nail—
"Are you confident that your little druggie gang can take on the US military?" It was an exaggeration, but I could see one of the masked men on the left side shivering as the other looked down, then at the red light of the camera, panicking. The scarred man's face had long turned from sadistic grinning to cold and calculating.
The silver pistol still stayed there, pointed right at my heart at an inch of difference. He wanted to shoot me so badly, but his finger's pressure on the trigger had been lifted significantly.
I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs like a giant bass. The act was flawless, the logic airtight. And for a tense minute, I thought I had them.
But the silence continued for a minute; the gun still hadn't moved, but I started to get calmer and calmer, realizing I was going to be fine. They had fallen for it.
And I was right. The scarred man slowly lowered the gun while chuckling bitterly.
"Hahaha, tricked you all into thinking it was all real?! It was obviously all staged!!" I turned to the red light of the camera, laughing while pointing my finger at it. I had to keep my part of the deal after all.
The scarred man's face became unusually soft for a second as he nodded at the camera, confirming my words, before step by step backing off from its frame, the other two mimicking him like the dogs they were.
No... Only one of the masked men, the one on the right side, had started to back off; the one on the left was still frozen on the spot, still shivering intensely.
He had a small body compared to the others, even smaller than mine, and from his behavior and size, I could guess he was just a teenager. I could imagine my dad saying, 'Look at him, he's just fifteen and already assassinating celebrities,' maybe because he had the habit of comparing me to everyone.
"It... failed." the scarred man tapped the trembling man's shoulder, "Don't waste more time. We need to get out." He whispered, barely audible in the other's ear before his only pupil dilated so much that it felt comparable to his blind one.
"HAAA!! FOR EL KARTON!!!"
BANG!
My face unconsciously strained as I felt heat, incredible, burning heat in my stomach as something warm and wet poured out all over my waist.
I placed my hand on it. My body yanked as the sharp pain overwhelmed my senses, and I lifted my hand in front of my blurring vision.
My blood.
"You fucking moron!" I could still observe what was happening before me—the scarred man slapped the masked man's neck with all his strength before breaking into a sprint towards the heavy door with a shout, "Move. Now!!"
Both masked men followed. The teenager panicked porously as he sprang into an even faster sprint, his body visibly shaking at every step he took.
I finally realized what had happened—that teenager got too into his feels that he… betrayed logic, using his assault rifle to shoot me right at the heart, missing the shot and hitting my stomach instead. I was more baffled by his aim—we were just a few feet away.
I felt my body lose all its power as my knees went weak. Even with his mistake, I knew I would still die because of blood loss.
But, before my head could hit the solid marble floor, I felt something soft, warm, underneath. Comforting warmth that smelled like home.
"Lokii! Hold on, I am calling an ambulance. Please hold on, just please...." Alya grabbed my face, forcing me to look into her wet blue eyes that leaked sticky tears all over my face. She must have heard that shot.
She pulled me into her lap, her soft hand tightly grabbing mine, clenching it as hard as her strength allowed, not wanting to let me go.
"It's fi-fine." I coughed out some blood, but first—
"You're not just an editor. I am sorry, so sorry for saying that. You're my.. family!" I whispered as loud as possible, her grip on my hand growing even tighter.
"Don't apologize... I won't get mad at you. Ever. I won't. I promise.... Just stay conscious." She bit her lips so hard that they started bleeding, her voice so timid that she felt like an animal on the brink of death. Even duller than me.
I froze at her words, only to sink even deeper into her warmth. The pain was overwhelmed by the comfort of her body.
I'd be lying if I said she wasn't the most beautiful, kind, and perfect woman I'd ever known—the only one I could picture myself obsessing over, buying gifts, cars, to massage her feet and back, brush her hair, cuddle her tightly for hours after sex, have children with her.
I wanted to say 'you're my crush. Only crush. For the longest of times I can remember.', but couldn't.
It wasn't that I felt scared like before; I was dying, there was nothing to fear now.
But I didn't want her to be weighed down by my death… I wanted her to move on, to erase me from her heart and keep going like I was never even a part of her life.
I wanted her to be happy.
But, I couldn't help but feel a deep ache, a hollow feeling at my heart that hurt worse, way worse than the pain in my stomach.
Alya's burning hot tears fell on my face, one after another, some even entering my mouth, leaving a salty aftertaste. She pulled my head into her arms, pressing me deeper in between her pillowy thighs and something incredibly warm in between them. My eyes widened at how close we were.
"You're selfish." She said.
"I am."
"You're heartless."
"I am."
"Wi-will you really make me say it now? How stuck up even are you?"
"...What do you mean?"
Suddenly, my head fell right on Alya's clit, her yoga pants-adorned thighs split on both of my shoulders, pressing my face deeply in-between them as her face lowered.
I felt something soft press against my lips. It tasted of fruits and honey, smelled of saliva and Alya, with that strange womanly odor that made me crave it more. Then something wet and sticky—a tongue, Alya's taste—invaded my mouth, her warm, musky yet sweet breaths brushing against my mouth walls.
I unconsciously sucked on that tongue, trying to taste it deeper, as if to mark it, to know its flavor so well that I'd never forget it.
I realized what was happening. 'Alya was kissing me.'
Her soft voice slipped through the haze of heat and the loud, wet sounds between us, trembling yet clear.
"Don't die before me…" She saw her pants turning dark red; the desperation in her voice increased, making my head ring with a piercing whistle.
"I wa–want to kiss you again… Eat our favorite strawberry ice cream together while playing _It Takes Two_. I want to binge trash isekai animes again while I procrastinate as you constantly yap about how we should get to work… I won't argue, I promise. Just stay…"
I opened my blurry eyes, making eye contact with soft, almost melting, beautiful ocean-blue eyes surrounded by tears on long, beautiful eyelashes. I didn't know how to reply. "So-sorry. Someday, you will find someone else-"
She cut me off by biting my tongue, "I won't. You're the only you." I felt a sudden warmth rejuvenate my body at her words, then she pouted, "You still didn't say it..."
"I love you!" I said softly with a bright smile, using all the strength remaining in me, "I love you… So much. Thank you for living with me. Without you, I would've been long _dead_."
"I love you too… Wa–Wait! Loki. Stay with me!"
But with all the strange movements my body had made during our entire interaction, my stomach flared up even worse, sharp stings shooting through every part of me—but I felt none of it, her words ringing like a whistle-blower in my head.
"It was fun. Really fun. Living with you... And, don't be too sad; maybe we will meet again." I sighed with a smile at her blurring face, pulling slightly away from the kiss, strands of saliva still connecting our mouths.
"We will live in hell. Together. For all eternity." As if trying to keep me conscious, she tried to keep us talking, "You just reached 10 million subscribers." She said with a soft, bitter chuckle.
"I won't be able to do the challenge anymore, I guess... "
Her smile started to fall as my eyes blurred even more—till I only saw black. Death, even though I didn't care about it, I cared a lot about being stripped of things I loved against my will. I guess that's the main reason people are scared of it in the first place.
But worse of all was, I felt completely helpless against it. And that felt worse than dying.
"Loki!! Stay with me! The ambulance is here, just talk to me—" Her sweet voice kept getting fainter and fainter until I couldn't register anything.
Soon enough, I felt myself yanked out of the world, swallowed by darkness, my soul-like body traveling faster than light.
My head spun as my thoughts grew incoherent, countless ramblings booming inside my ears in my own voice. I recognized them—they were all of my life's thoughts, from observations of Alya's breast growth over the years to thoughts of strangling my parents to death.
It kept looping for what felt like centuries to me. Until—
[Status: Deceased]
[Soul erased: 92%]
[Suitable System Selection Complete... Trickster's Trick]
'Huh?' I felt a robotic, piercing voice deep inside my brain as a translucent tablet-like screen with dark royal-golden borders glowed in the darkness.
'I am finally losing my mind.' I didn't believe in the afterlife, so whatever those ramblings were, I thought were my subconscious slowing the perception of time before death and replaying all of my life's moments. But this?
I expected to vanish, but it didn't. The only change was, [Soul erased: 95%]
'Are we seriously doing this?! It's just like those countless Webnovels…' I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't explain it otherwise.
Suddenly, a flash animation happened on the screen as a small loading animation appeared. Then, a question popped up—
[Would you like to continue?]
> Yes
> No
[Warning: Choosing "No" will result in permanent soul erasure.]
[Choosing "Yes" will begin the ST process.]
I had no idea what 'ST' was, but 'soul erasure' sure did—the choice couldn't have been more obvious. Even with all my cynical thoughts, I would still appreciate a living me than a dead me.
If I could live again… I don't think I will ever let go of the freedom to do whatever I wanted again.
And honestly… 'I wanted to live. I wanted to breathe the fresh air, bask in the sunlight, feel my soft mattress, read novels, play video games, watch anime, all with her. I wanted to nag Alya again. Kiss her.'
'Yes' I thought, and immediately the screen glowed even more brightly, blinding me completely under its sharp lights.
[Reincarnation Protocol Activated...]
[Processing Soul Signature...]
[Allocating Worldline...]
[Suitable world located...]
[Beginning ST (Soul transfer)]
Countless robotic beeps rang in my mind, and the next thing I saw was flashes of beautiful colorful lights, passing through galaxies, stars, solar systems, and then universes faster than light.
My mind went blank, unable to comprehend the rapid movement and sharp lights.
...
"Raven! What's wrong?! Look at me, can you breathe?"