Aiden Lee was going to die.
Not in the grand, meaningful way heroes died — saving kittens from burning buildings or taking a bullet for a loved one. No. He was going to die the way he had lived: shamelessly, stupidly, and in front of an audience that didn't even care enough to stick around until the end of the stream.
"SMASH that like button, folks!" Aiden shouted, one hand flailing at the battered GoPro strapped to his chest, the other clutching the frayed rope that dangled above the half-drained swimming pool. "Today your boy's bringing you the craziest challenge yet — the Rooftop Tarzan Swing!"
The pool was empty except for a suspicious green puddle at the bottom. The rope was tied to a rusted pipe on the rooftop of an abandoned motel. The motel was condemned for a reason. And the only live viewers on his stream were two bots and his cousin's account, who had left a comment three minutes ago: "Bro don't do this, Mom will kill you before gravity does."
Aiden grinned, teeth gleaming. He was twenty-two, unemployed, neck-deep in debt, and addicted to the sweet dopamine of subscriber counts. If he didn't go viral today, he would have to sell his gaming chair. And he loved that chair more than most of his extended family.
"Three, two, one—!"
The rope creaked. The pipe groaned. Aiden leapt.
For one glorious instant, he felt like a king. Wind whipped through his hair, his body soared in a perfect arc, and he could practically hear the views ticking upward. This was it. This was the clip that would resurrect his dying channel.
Then the pipe snapped.
The rope tore loose.
And Aiden plummeted, screaming, into the green puddle below.
When he opened his eyes, there was no pain. No audience. No GoPro. Just the musty smell of hay, the scratch of a straw mat under his back, and the faint glow of firelight on wooden rafters.
He groaned. "Ugh. Hospital bills are gonna kill me harder than gravity…"
Except… this wasn't a hospital. His eyes adjusted. The walls were rough-hewn planks, patched with mud. A clay pot bubbled faintly over a firepit. The mattress under him wasn't a mattress at all, but a heap of straw bound together with twine.
"Where the hell…?"
He sat up. His reflection shimmered in the pot's water. The face that stared back wasn't entirely his own. His features were sharper, his skin clearer, his hair black and long, tied clumsily behind his head. He looked like an Asian drama lead on a budget cosplay set.
"What in the K-drama fever dream—"
A notification flickered across his vision.
Influence System Booting…Welcome, Host!Followers: 0
Aiden froze. "No… way."
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, shook his head. The text didn't vanish.
"Oh my god." He fell to his knees, palms clasped together. "Thank you, sweet algorithm! I died a cloutless loser and reincarnated with a system! Heaven really is merciful!"
He half expected a booming narrator to confirm it, but the only reply was the faint bleating of a goat outside.
Still, Aiden's heart raced. This was just like the novels he binged instead of working. Reincarnation! Cheat System! Endless chances for fame, fortune, and—most importantly—views!
He punched the air. "Second life, baby! Aiden Lee is back in the game!"
The door creaked open. A wrinkled old woman shuffled in, carrying a clay bowl of porridge. She froze when she saw him leaping around the hut.
Her eyes widened. She dropped the bowl. "The spirit! He awakens!"
"Spirit?" Aiden blinked. "Lady, I'm just—"
The woman fell to her knees, forehead pressing against the dirt floor. "Oh, great one! Forgive us mortals for disturbing your rest!"
"Great one?" Aiden straightened. Slowly, shamelessly, he stroked his chin. Maybe… maybe he should roll with this.
"Yes…" He lowered his voice to what he thought was an intimidating baritone. "Yes, indeed. I am… the Great One. The, uh… Oracle of Engagement."
The old woman gasped, her wrinkled face trembling with awe.
Internally, Aiden cackled. Oh, this is too easy. If they think I'm some holy prophet, that's free food, free rent, and no taxes.
"Go, spread word of my… awakening," he intoned, waving his hand dramatically. "And bring… followers. Lots of followers."
The woman scrambled out, shouting something about "the Oracle of Likes."
Aiden sat back on the straw pile, grinning ear to ear. His stomach rumbled. His first order of business: secure tributes.
Within an hour, the hut was crowded. Wide-eyed villagers of all ages pressed in, whispering. Some clutched turnips or loaves of bread like offerings. Others held chickens by the legs.
Aiden stood tall, chest puffed, trying to look mysterious instead of like a broke streamer in borrowed pajamas.
"Oracle," one villager whispered. "What wisdom do you bring?"
Aiden's brain scrambled. He thought of the thousands of filler lines he had shouted in streams. He picked one at random.
"Uh… smash that like button!"
The crowd gasped.
A man dropped to his knees. "The Like… the divine strike! It must mean we should smash our enemies!"
"Yes, yes!" another cried. "The Prophet commands us to smash the goblins!"
Aiden's HUD flickered.
Followers: 5
His jaw dropped. Wait. That worked?!
He raised his hands, voice trembling between awe and greed. "Yes, indeed. To smash the like… is to smash evil. To subscribe… is to gain fortune. To comment…"
He hesitated, then smirked. "Is to… speak your truth."
The villagers fell prostrate. "O Oracle of Likes! Teach us more!"
Aiden tried not to laugh out loud. His system pinged again.
Followers: 12
"Oh-ho-ho," he whispered, barely containing his glee. "This… this is going to be good."