Two high school girls raised their phones, aiming their cameras in this direction.
Sparkle’s movements froze.
She slowly turned her head, meeting those gazes.
Three seconds later.
She took off running.
Her white twin-tails trailed behind her like two straight lines in the wind, and her red eyes held only one thought—run, run, run, run, run!
Her red-and-white figure was like a gust of wind sweeping through the street, finally kicking open her front door with a loud ‘thud’.
Sparkle rushed into the room, kicked the door shut behind her, and leaned against it, panting heavily.
Her chest heaved violently, and the tear in her white T-shirt opened and closed with her breathing, revealing more of her collarbone and the edge of her shoulder strap.
But she couldn’t care about that now; all she wanted was to catch her breath.
The Monkey slid out of her hands and sprawled out on the floor, also panting.
“Why…
why did you run…” the Monkey asked weakly.
“You…
you have the nerve to ask…”
Sparkle was out of breath.
“We were…
being filmed…”
“So what if they filmed us…
you didn’t even do anything…”
“I didn’t do anything?!”
Sparkle’s eyes widened.
“I was acting like a lunatic in public!
You call that nothing?!”
She walked to the table, set the fried rice down, plopped into a chair, grabbed her chopsticks, and started shoveling food into her mouth.
Grains of rice entered her mouth—chew, chew, chew.
Fried egg entered her mouth—chew, chew, chew.
She stared blankly ahead, mechanically stuffing food into her mouth like an emotionless eating machine.
The Monkey crawled up from the floor, hopped onto the windowsill, and resumed its squatting position, looking at the sky.
Outside the window, the sky had already darkened, and the last glow of twilight was struggling at the horizon.
After finishing the last bite of food, Sparkle tossed the empty box into the trash can, stood up, and walked to the bed.
She flopped down.
Closed her eyes.
And fell asleep.
She didn’t even change her clothes, wipe off the face paint, or turn off the lights.
She just slept like that.
She was exhausted after a long day of streaming and being drained by this monkey’s antics.
She didn’t want to care about anything right now.
Whatever happens, happens.
…
…
…
The next morning.
Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, drawing a bright line on the floor.
Sparkle was still sleeping.
She was lying on her side, her white hair scattered across the pillow like a handful of silver silk threads.
The face paint had smudged slightly overnight; the edges of the hearts and diamonds had blurred, looking like two faint patches of blush.
Her eyelashes were long and curled, casting shallow shadows on her eyelids.
The tear in the collar of her white T-shirt was still there, revealing her collarbone and a small patch of fair skin on her chest, which rose and fell slightly with her breathing.
The room was very quiet.
Then—
“Sparkle!!!”
A scream exploded.
Sparkle’s brow furrowed, and she rolled over, burying her face in the pillow.
“Sparkle!!
Sparkle!!
Wake up!!
Wake up!!
You’re famous!!
You’re famous—!!!”
A pillow flew across the room.
Thwack!
A direct hit.
The Monkey’s scream turned into a’squeak’ and then fell silent.
Sparkle kept her eyes closed, her arm still in the throwing position as she mumbled, “It’s so early…
what are you shouting for…”
Three seconds later.
She snapped her eyes open.
“Famous”?
What’s famous?
Who’s famous?
Sparkle-chan is famous?
She jerked upright, her white hair a messy bird’s nest and her red eyes wide like lightbulbs, staring straight at the source of the sound.
The Monkey crawled up from the corner, a corner of the pillow still on its head, but its paws were holding the phone, pointing frantically at the screen: “Look, look, look—!”
Sparkle was stunned for a moment.
Are the good days finally coming?
Did she suddenly become famous?
She threw back the covers—wait, she hadn’t even used covers last night—and scrambled out of bed, her bare feet pitter-pattering as she ran over and snatched the phone.
She was feeling giddy inside.
It must be because her stream went viral.
I knew it, I’m so cute and pretty, how could no one know me?
How could no one like me?
Sparkle-chan is so cute, how could no one like her?
That monkey even mentioned system suppression; how ridiculous.
How could Sparkle-chan’s charm be suppressed by a system?
She looked at the screen with a delighted expression.
The smile froze on her face.
[Trending Topics · Real-time]
[#3: Shocking!
Teenage girl beats monkey in the street, the reason is actually…]
[#5: Protected animal abused, girl’s identity has been exposed]
[#7: Netizens outraged: The person who bullied the monkey must pay the price]
The accompanying photo was a blurry shot—a white-haired girl with her hands around a monkey’s neck, shaking it frantically.
The background was that small street, with onlookers surrounding them.
It wasn’t censored.
Her face was clearly visible.
The comment section below:
“Is this person sick?”
“Animal abuse?
Reported.”
“She looks pretty, but how can her heart be so cruel?”
“Monkeys are protected animals, right?
She should be sentenced for this!”
“Dox her!
We must dox her!
Make her socially dead!”
“She’s already been doxed.
Address is XXXXXX, name is Sparkle, eighteen years old, living alone with no parents.”
“Let’s go, let’s go block her at her house!”
“This kind of person deserves to be exposed!”
“Protecting animals is everyone’s responsibility!”
…
Sparkle’s hands began to shake.
A thousand words were stuck in her throat, but she couldn’t utter a single one.
She stared at the comments, scrolling down one by one.
Each one was like a knife stabbing into her heart.
“This person must be severely punished!”
“Has anyone called the police?
Call the police!”
“Isn’t she a streamer?
Go spam her stream!”
“Which platform?
AC Station, right?
Go raid her!”
Her mind went completely blank.
Beside her, the Monkey leaned in, looking at the screen and clicking its tongue in wonder: “Whoa, so many comments.
Sparkle, you’re famous, you’re really famous.”
Sparkle didn’t move.
The Monkey continued: “As expected of Sparkle, using this kind of method can be considered brilliant.
Directly triggering a trending topic is much faster than slowly gaining fans.
Look, it’s only been one night and so many people are discussing you—”
Sparkle slowly turned her head to look at it.
The light was gone from those red eyes.
There was only a dead silence.
The Monkey shrunk back.
“Uh…
did I say something wrong?”
Sparkle opened her mouth, her voice raspy: “They…
they doxed me…”
“Huh?”
The Monkey leaned closer to the screen.
“Oh, you’re right, your address was even dug up.
Tsk tsk, these people move fast.”
Sparkle continued to stare at it, her gaze like she was looking at a dead man.
The Monkey didn’t notice and continued its analysis: “But Sparkle, think about it.
Even if it’s a negative trending topic, it’s still popularity.
Infamy is still fame.
Don’t you just happen to need fans?
Look at your fan count—oh wait, what’s your fan count now?”
Sparkle’s hands shook even more violently.
She looked down at the small text at the top of the screen.
[Fans: 13,527]
It had increased.
Overnight, it had increased by over ten thousand.
In this manner.
The Monkey saw it too and slapped its thigh—if it had one—exclaiming excitedly: “Look!
The mission is complete!
You have ten thousand fans!
I told you, even if the system suppresses you, it can’t withstand your wild maneuvers!
Although this maneuver was a bit…
well…
the result is good!”
Sparkle took a deep breath.
She took another deep breath.
She took one more deep breath.
That breath got stuck in her chest, neither going up nor down, nearly suffocating her.