Ryan lay alone in his small, quiet bedroom. The tightly drawn curtains blocked the sunlight, leaving the room mostly dark. The only light came from his phone screen. He lay flat on his messy bed, his head resting on a thin pillow. The sheets were pushed aside because the room felt warm. Holding the phone above his face, his thumb slowly swiped up. His tired eyes scanned the words on the bright display.
He was reading a webnovel and had been for hours. He started when he woke up and hadn't stopped. He had nothing else to do today, or tomorrow. His life was an empty routine. He lacked a schedule, classes, or a job. Every day felt exactly the same. Webnovels were his only escape. Reading about heroes fighting monsters or people building empires meant he didn't have to think about his own life.
He lowered the phone and stared at the dark ceiling with a heavy sigh. A year ago, things were supposed to be different. He had enrolled in his first year of college, bought the textbooks, and attended orientation. But college was not what he expected. Classes moved too fast, and the subjects were too hard. He felt lost when the professors spoke. He was surrounded by thousands of students but made no friends. The pressure built up. It became harder to wake up in the morning, until one day, he just didn't go to class. One missed day turned into a week, then a month. Eventually, he dropped out, packed his bags, and went back to his room, feeling like a massive failure.
Ryan hadn't given up immediately. He had a backup plan. He loved video games and watching streamers online, so he decided to start a channel and game full-time. He spent his savings on a decent computer, a ring light, a microphone, and a camera. He set everything up in his bedroom corner and created a colorful logo. He believed this was his chance to prove he wasn't a failure.
He started streaming a popular competitive shooter. At first, it was difficult. He would stream for hours to one or two viewers, often just his own alternate accounts. He kept trying, talking to the camera, making jokes, and trying to win. Slowly, his viewer count climbed to ten, then twenty. Then he hit a wall. He wasn't a skilled player and often lost early in matches. When he lost, the stream was boring, and viewers left to watch someone better.
Desperate to grow his channel and become famous, Ryan searched the internet and found a cheat program. If installed, it would automatically aim his gun so he never missed. He knew it was against the rules and unfair to others, but the temptation was too strong. He downloaded and installed the hack.
The next day, he went live and activated the cheat. Immediately, he played like a professional. He eliminated enemies with perfect accuracy and won game after game. His viewers were amazed. The chat praised his skills, and his viewer count climbed to two hundred as people shared the stream. Ryan felt a rush of joy. He smiled at the camera and thanked his new fans.
Then disaster struck. It was a simple mistake. Ryan tried to adjust his microphone volume on the keyboard, but his finger slipped and hit the shortcut key for the cheat program's settings. A large, transparent menu popped up in the center of his screen. The streaming software captured it all, showing his viewers the words "AIM ASSIST" and "WALL HACKS" turned on.
Ryan froze. The blood drained from his face. He panicked and clicked the exit button, but he was too late. The chat instantly changed. The praise was replaced by viewers typing "HACKER!", "CHEATER!", and "FAKE!" The messages scrolled faster than he could read. People were angry and betrayed. Terrified and unable to defend himself against the video proof, Ryan reached under his desk with shaking hands and yanked the computer's power plug from the wall.
The monitors went black, and the ring light shut off. The room plunged into silence. Ryan sat in the dark, covering his face. His brief gaming career was over. By the next morning, recorded clips of his stream were all over social media. People made videos exposing his cheating, and thousands watched his mistake. Hate comments flooded his inbox. Unable to handle the shame, Ryan deleted his channel and social media accounts, and uninstalled the game. There was no coming back from that public humiliation.
Ryan sighed, returning to the present. He cursed his own decisions. If he had played honestly, maybe he would have grown slowly. Now he was back at the bottom. That was why he spent all day reading webnovels. It let him get through the day without facing reality.
Recently, he considered becoming a writer on the webnovel platform. If he couldn't be a streamer, he could invent worlds. He closed the webnovel and opened a text app. The white screen glared at him. He looked at the story he typed yesterday about a brave sword fighter. Reading his own writing, his face twisted in annoyance. Red lines underlined his words. He had spelled "sword" as "sowrd," "shield" as "sheild," and "beautiful" as "beutiful."
He cussed out loud. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he whispered. He deleted the misspelled words and retyped them. He felt like he couldn't do anything right. He couldn't study, he couldn't stream, and he couldn't even spell simple words. He focused entirely on the small screen, fixing a grammar error, feeling miserable.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.
"Hello, streamer!"
The voice was loud and cheerful, like a game show host. Ryan froze. He was alone in the house. The door was closed, and the windows were locked. He slowly lowered his phone and turned toward the corner of the room.
A man stood there. Ryan's eyes widened in terror. The man wore a tall red circus master hat with a golden band, and a matching bright red coat with long tails, gold buttons, and thick golden ropes on the shoulders. He wore perfectly clean white gloves.
The most terrifying detail was his face. He wore a smooth, round mask covering his entire face. Painted on the bottom half was a giant, unnerving grin. Where the eyes should have been, two holes revealed bright yellow eyes glowing in the dim light, staring directly at Ryan.
Ryan's body moved on its own. He screamed in panic and kicked his legs to push away, but he was at the edge of the bed. He fell, hitting the hard wooden floor with a loud thud. His phone slid under the bed. Ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, he scrambled to get away from the masked man. He tangled himself in the fallen bedsheet, kicked it away, and crawled toward the bedroom door. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed the cold metal doorknob, and pulled.
"Nope, can't escape." The man's voice remained sickeningly cheerful. He raised a white-gloved hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The doorknob locked. Ryan pulled with all his strength, but the door wouldn't open. A glowing, translucent blue wall appeared, covering the entire door like a rippling sheet of thick glass.
Ryan looked at his window. The same blue wall sealed the frame. He was trapped. He turned back to the door and scratched at the barrier, but it felt as solid as concrete. He pressed his back flat against the glowing wall and stared at the man. Sweat stung his eyes, and his heart pounded against his ribs. This defied logic. This was something out of a webnovel, not real life.
"Who are you?" Ryan asked, his voice shaking.
The man stood perfectly still. His yellow eyes blinked behind the mask. "I am the Stream Manager," he said brightly.
Ryan stared at him, confused. Stream Manager? He looked around for hidden cameras but only saw his messy bedroom.
The manager raised his hands and waved his fingers as if typing on an invisible keyboard. Colored sparks shot from his fingertips, gathering in the center of the room to form glowing holograms.
He pointed at a green and brown image. "There are worlds besides this one," he said.
The hologram showed a fantasy landscape with towering trees, white stone castles, armored knights on horseback, and a winged creature breathing fire.
"In these worlds," the manager continued, changing the picture, "streamers entertain viewers."
The hologram shifted into a massive, dark city filled with neon signs, flying vehicles, and people with robotic body parts. It was a technological world.
The manager waved his hand again, and the image shifted into a high mountain peak where robed people jumped hundreds of feet into the air, fighting with swords that shot beams of light. It was a martial world, just like Ryan's webnovels.
"Streamers travel to these worlds," the manager explained, pacing. His yellow eyes never left Ryan. "They live, fight, survive, and entertain viewers watching back home."
The manager snapped his fingers. The holograms vanished, replaced by a rapidly spinning gold coin.
"Viewers donate coins to the streamers," the manager said. "If they are entertained by the action or drama, they give the streamer wealth. Just like your world."
Ryan swallowed hard. The word 'streamer' rang in his head.
"Streamers use these coins," the manager went on, conjuring a glowing storefront menu showing swords, medicine, guns, and spells. "They buy items to survive in that dangerous world. Stronger armor, a healing potion, or gear to entertain viewers even more. It is a perfect cycle."
The manager leaned forward, his painted smile seeming to stretch.
"Or," he whispered, "if the streamer is smart and entertaining, they can save their coins. If they collect enough, they can purchase one wish. A wish that can change reality itself."
The holograms vanished, leaving only the faint blue glow from the blocked door and windows.
"To start up..." the manager began, but stopped. He tilted his head, studying Ryan. He clapped his white-gloved hands together.
"Do you understand?" he asked brightly.
Ryan stayed pressed against the door. He heard the explanation about the worlds, viewers, coins, and the wish, but his brain refused to process it. He was a college dropout, a disgraced gamer, and a terrible writer. This kind of thing didn't happen to people like him. He couldn't form a word to reply. He just stared at the bright red coat, the tall hat, and those glowing yellow eyes behind the mask, wishing he would wake up from this nightmare. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by Ryan's rapid breathing.
The manager looked at Ryan's shaking hands and terrified expression. The cheerful energy drained from his posture, and his shoulders dropped. He let out a long sigh, like a disappointed teacher. He raised his right hand, positioned his fingers, and without another word, snapped them again.