My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 10: The Protector

I stepped out from behind the concrete pillar just as Jaximus’s hand clamped onto the neck of Elara’s guitar. My neon green shoes didn't squeak this time; they were too heavy with water to make much sound at all. I looked like a wreck—a drowned, skeletal shadow of a man—but the Heart of Ice had locked my emotions into a cold, clinical HUD of data points.

"You should probably let go of the guitar," I said.

My voice was raspy, vibrating with a dry, metallic edge that seemed to startle the empty station. The three bullies spun around, their phone flashes swinging toward me like searchlights.

"Who the hell are you?" Jaximus sneered, squinting against the dim light. He didn't see a threat. He saw a homeless kid in a soaked hoodie. "Get lost, junkie. We’re filming a video."

"I know," I said, raising my burner phone. "So am I."

I didn't hold the phone like a teenager taking a selfie. I held it with the steady, professional grip of a director. The System was guiding my hand, highlighting the exact framing needed to capture Jaximus’s sneer and Elara’s trembling form in the same shot.

[Skill Sync: 85%] [Instruction: Do not strike back. Physical damage to User increases 'Martyrdom' metric by 400%.]

"Is that a threat?" Jaximus laughed, taking a step toward me. He was a head taller than me and fueled by the adrenaline of his live stream. "You think you’re going to record us? With that piece of junk? Look at your screen, kid. It’s shattered, just like your life."

"The lens is fine," I replied calmly. "And your stream is currently showing fifty thousand people that you're a thief. I’m just making sure there’s a high-definition backup for the police."

It was a bluff—I had no connection to the police—but the word thief stung him. Jaximus looked at his friends, then back at me. The embarrassment of being challenged by a "nobody" in front of his fans was too much for his ego to handle.

"I'll show you high-def," he hissed.

He lunged.

In my old life, I might have flinched. I might have tried to throw a punch. But the Heart of Ice kept me eerily still. I didn't move my feet; I only moved the phone, tracking his movement as he closed the gap.

He shoved me, hard. My back slammed into the concrete pillar, the air rushing out of my lungs in a painful wheeze. My "Pariah" body felt fragile, the lack of food making my bones feel like glass.

[Physical Integrity: 22%] [Warning: Internal Bruising Detected.]

"Drop the phone!" Jaximus yelled. He swung a fist, catching me square in the mouth.

Pain exploded across my jaw. I tasted the sharp, copper tang of blood instantly. My head snapped back against the stone, and for a second, the world turned into a swirling mess of grey and gold. My knees buckled, and I sank to the cold, dirty tiles of the platform.

But I didn't drop the phone.

My arms were locked in a rigid, robotic posture. Even as I slumped against the base of the pillar, the camera was tilted upward, perfectly capturing Jaximus as he loomed over me, his face twisted into the ugly, primal mask of a bully.

"You want to play hero?" Jaximus mocked, breathing hard. He looked at his friends, who were laughing and filming my blood hitting the floor. "Look at him. He’s pathetic. A literal beggar trying to act tough."

Elara had stood up, her guitar clutched to her chest like a shield. "Stop it! Just leave him alone! Take the money and go!"

"We don't want your pennies, sweetheart," one of the sidekicks laughed. "We got what we wanted. The 'Subway Siren' and her 'Knight in Green Shoes.' This is going to go crazy on the FYP."

Jaximus leaned down, his face inches from mine. He smelled of expensive cologne and arrogance. "Stay down, loser. If I see you again, I won't just hit you. I'll make sure you're erased."

Suddenly, a low, rhythmic vibration began to thrum through the floor. A distant, screeching howl of metal on metal echoed from the tunnel. The 4:15 AM train was arriving.

"Let's bounce," Jaximus said, checking his phone. "The stream is peaking. We're done here."

They turned and ran toward the far end of the platform, hooting and high-fiving as they disappeared into the shadows of the exit just as the train’s headlights began to illuminate the station.

The roar of the arriving train filled the space, a wall of hot, metallic wind slamming into me. I stayed on the floor for a moment, my breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. My lip was swelling fast, and my ribs felt like they had been hit with a sledgehammer.

[Physical Integrity: 18%] [System Note: Objective Accomplished. 'Villain Footage' secured.] [Influence Gain: +50 (Underground Credibility).]

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was light, trembling.

"Are you... are you okay?" Elara was kneeling beside me, her dark curls falling over her face. Her eyes were wide with a mix of terror and confusion. "Why did you do that? You didn't even try to hit him back."

I wiped a streak of blood from my chin with the back of my hand. I looked down at the phone. The recording was saved. The System had automatically stabilized the footage, removed the graininess of the low light, and highlighted the exact moment Jaximus’s fist connected with my face.

It was perfect. It was the kind of raw, visceral injustice that the internet fed on.

I looked up at Elara. Her birthmark was flushed a deep purple from the stress, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She looked raw, real, and heartbreakingly talented.

I forced a small, painful smile, my split lip stinging.

"I'm fine," I rasped, leaning my head back against the pillar. I held up the phone so she could see the 'Save' icon. "I didn't need to hit him, Elara. They just gave us the best content of the year."

She stared at me like I was insane. Maybe I was. But as the train doors hissed open behind us, I knew one thing for certain.

The Bakars had used their power to make me invisible. Now, I was going to use my invisibility to make her the most visible person in the world.