Reva finally climbed off Xavier’s lap and slid onto the couch beside him, legs crossed, arms folded, that smug vampire smirk on her face.
"Alright, showti. Let’s see what you’ve got, Mister Viral Sensation."
Xavier exhaled through his nose, cracked his knuckles, and hit [Go Live].
The screen blinked once.
Then twice.
Then it began.
At first, there was just a number.
23 viewers.
89.
371.
And then—
BOOM.
The number exploded like a damn nuke.
12,043.
37,821.
102,901.
LIVE NOW.
The chat went insane. ssages flew in like a digital tsunami.
"YO IT’S HIM!! THE VR DUDE!"
"NO WAY, THAT’S THE GUY WHO WRECKED THE CEO ON LIVE STREAM!"
"HE TOOK DOWN A WHOLE TOWER WITH JUST A WALLET WTF."
Viewers: 139,901... 1.1M... 4.2M... 8.7 MILLION.
The numbers didn’t climb. They launched.
No delay. No warm-up. Just full-on galactic detonation. Like everyone in the damn universe was waiting for this.
Chat exploded like a battlefield:
"HE’S ALIVE! HE’S FUCKING ALIVE!"
"THE LEGEND HIMSELF. THE MAN WHO MADE A CEO PISS HIMSELF IN 4K."
"HE BOUGHT A WHOLE NIGHTCLUB JUST FOR COFFEE."
"BRO ISN’T EARTH-FAMOUS. HE’S A DAMN CONSTELLATION."
"OUR SAVIOR HAS RETURNED."
"Even my AI assistant simps for him. This ain’t normal."
"That smirk? That’s the look of a man who knows he’s HIM."
The comnts blurred into a wildfire.
So fans spamd emojis, others dropped full-on novels of praise.
"Xavier turned a board eting into a warzone. I’m naming my son after him."
"100k superchat just to say ’Xavier, take my money and my soul.’"
And of course... the haters showed up.
"Y’all seriously worshiping this guy? He’s just a rich brat."
"He’s nothing without money. Zero skill. Total fraud."
But before Xavier could even blink, the mob descended.
"WHO SAID THAT? BRING HIM TO ."
"You’re mad ’cause your broke ass gets out-flexed by his shadow."
"Bro, get ratio’d into orbit. No one insults our Money ssiah."
"We don’t argue with NPCs. Delete your account."
Haters got cooked in real ti.
One dude even rage-quit the chat after getting spamd with "X_X" emojis for five solid minutes.
Xavier? Still quiet.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Yo."
"HE SPOKE AGAIN!"
"That voice... that tone... I’m having spiritual awakenings."
"How does one man carry this much raw charisma??"
He rubbed his neck lazily. "I heard I went viral. That true?"
"BRO PRETENDING LIKE HE DIDN’T JUST SHAKE THE GALAXY."
"Stock market dipped because people left work to watch this."
He tilted his head. "Just here to say... thanks. I’m not dead. Yet."
"THE BARS. THE DELIVERY. THE CASUAL FLEX."
"Xavier pls. I’ll divorce my husband and marry you tonight."
Then—he ended the stream.
Just like that.
8.7 million viewers gone in a blink.
The room was dead silent for a mont.
Then—THUMP.
Reva dropped herself right back on his lap like it was her damn throne.
"That was hot," she whispered, lips close to his ear.
"Now hand that phone."
Xavier raised a brow. "Why?"
She snatched it anyway.
Reva’s eyes lit up like fireworks.
"Holy shit. You’ve already hit 3.1 million followers. In less than ten minutes."
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Notifications were going ballistic. Every swipe down showed a new surge.
101k subscribers.
280k on EX.
905k on Holonet.
200k ssages in DMs.
Trending #1 across 112 countries.
And with every refresh—
130k.
440k.
1.2 million.
Reva looked up at him with that smug, turned-on expression only a vampire queen could pull off.
"Congratulations," she purred. "You’re no longer a man."
She leaned closer, breath brushing his jaw.
"You’re a goddamn celebrity now!"
Reva let out a low whistle as she scrolled through Xavier’s phone, the numbers still ticking up like a broken slot machine.
"Damn... I’m dating a celebrity now," she said, turning her head with a devilish grin. "Guess I gotta start dressing hotter. Paparazzi might be hiding in the kitchen."
Xavier didn’t respond, just leaned back with one arm resting behind his head. His other hand was half-raised, as if even he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or shrug.
Across the room, Angel didn’t even glance up. Her fingers were still dancing over the keyboard, her eyes glued to the layers of code on her screen.
"Going viral doesn’t an shit," she said flatly. "It’s common. s go viral every day. A frog screaming in a microwave got twenty million views last week."
Reva blinked. "What the fuck?"
Angel kept typing. "Point is—only a few know how to use that montum. Most fla out in a week. If Xavier just goes quiet or ghosts the net, the hype’ll dry up faster than your patience."
Reva narrowed her eyes. "That’s fair."
She looked down at Xavier again. "Guess you’ll have to entertain your fans, babe. Maybe do a little stream. Ga a bit. Flash that pretty face of yours. Smile like you’re pretending to be humble."
Angel added, "Post short clips. s. React videos. Show up in comnt wars and ratio so trolls. Fans eat that up."
Reva nodded. "Right! Or maybe post a cooking video where you burn toast and say it’s gourt. That’s peak internet."
She tossed a look at Angel. "We could start a channel together too. A duo thing."
Angel didn’t answer.
Xavier took it all in quietly. He glanced at his phone again, at the endless stream of follows, likes, tags, and trending hashtags all centered around his na. It was surreal. Like he’d flipped a switch and the world just... tuned in.
I didn’t plan on getting famous, he thought. But this... might actually be better than what I had in mind.
People knew him now. Not just as a guy with money—but as a symbol. A na. A presence.
And the more people watched him, the more eyes were on his enemies.
They won’t be able to move in the dark anymore. Not without getting caught in the spotlight.
And if shit ever hit the fan?
He wouldn’t be fighting alone.
He’d have millions watching his back.
A few minutes later, Xavier’s phone buzzed.
Lilia’s na flashed across the screen.
He picked it up. "Yeah?"
"X-Xavier..." Her voice was shaky. "There are... people outside. A lot of them. Right in front of your door. I don’t know what they want. They keep pressing the bell. I haven’t answered. I’m scared."
Before Xavier could say anything, he heard Lyra’s voice in the background, louder, pissed.
"Should I go out and take care of them, Master? Just say the word."
Xavier stood up from the couch, face hardening. "No. Stay inside. Lock the door. I’ll be there in ten."
Reva looked up from his lap, brows raised. "What’s up?"
Xavier was already pulling on his jacket. "People showed up at my place. Don’t know who. Could be trouble."
He didn’t wait for a response.
Downstairs, his bike roared to life. The club’s lights faded behind him as he shot into the neon-lit city, slicing through traffic like a bullet.
His mind spun.
Why would anyone be dumb enough to show up at my apartnt? Unless they wanted sothing.
And with his face all over the net now, that list was probably long.
It didn’t take him long to reach Nexus Tower. He flashed through security and shot up to the 55th floor.
And then he saw it.
A crowd.
At least two dozen people stood outside apartnt PP 69. So wore business suits, holding tablets and files. Others were dressed in designer casuals with phone caras ready. A few had whole teams with them—assistants, photographers, mic guys.
And the mont they spotted him—
"There he is!"
"Mr. Xavier! Just one minute please!"
"Can we talk?! My company would like to sign you—!"
"I’ve got a sponsorship deal lined up! Just hear out!"
They sward.
Xavier slowed, his boots hitting the marble floor one heavy step at a ti as they crowded him. Voices overlapped, caras pointed, hands reached out.
So were clearly fans—giddy, nervous, just excited to see him in person.
But the rest?
Leeches.
He could tell from their eyes.
They didn’t want him.
They wanted the fire around him.
The fa. The clout. The reach.
So this is what it ans to go viral in the real world, Xavier thought, jaw clenched.
It wasn’t just about likes or numbers anymore.
It was about power. And power always attracted parasites.
Xavier didn’t stop walking.
"Back off," he said, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise.
The crowd kept pressing forward. Caras flashing. Voices blabbering.
"I said—" His eyes narrowed. "Back. Off. Or I’ll call the cops for trespassing and harassnt."
That shut them up.
So lowered their caras. So muttered apologies. Others just froze.
Xavier used the opening, walked straight through the crowd, and slipped into his apartnt. The door clicked shut behind him.
He exhaled.
Then, without missing a beat, he walked up to the wide smart glass, tapped it once to make it transparent, and stood tall behind it—looking straight out at the crowd still lingering.
His voice ca through the apartnt’s external speakers, cold and clear.
"If you’re from so brand, sponsor, or dia outlet, leave. Now."
The silence outside was instant.
"I don’t do ambushes. You want to talk to ? Set an appointnt like everyone else. Otherwise, next ti you show up here..." He leaned a little closer to the glass. "I’ll sue you for stalking and get a restraining order slapped on your na. And trust , I’ve got the money to do it."
A few of them imdiately turned around and left.
One guy tried to say sothing—but his assistant tugged his arm and pulled him away. It didn’t take long for the rest to scatter.
But not all.
After a while, only a few were left. Three, maybe four.
Xavier cracked the door open and stepped out. His eyes scanned them—no tablets, no caras, no sales pitch faces.
One of the guys raised a hand. "Hey, we’re not with the press or anything."
Another nodded. "We live here. Upper section, so below. Seen you a couple of tis. Didn’t know you were the Xavier until the net exploded the other night."
"We’re not here for anything shady," a woman added. "Just thought it’d be cool to et you in person. Maybe hang out soti."
Xavier studied their faces. They didn’t seem like parasites. Just neighbors curious about the new star on their block.
He gave a polite nod. "Appreciate it. I’ll let you know when I’m free. But don’t co knocking again. My girls inside? They don’t like attention. And when they get mad... let’s just say I don’t want my neighbors disappearing."
They blinked, unsure if he was joking. He didn’t clarify.
They got the ssage and left soon after.
Once the door was shut, Xavier leaned against it, letting out a slow breath.
"...Being famous isn’t as easy as I thought," he muttered. "Definitely cos with its own brand of bullshit."
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