My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 11: The Hunger

The subway doors hissed shut, and the 4:15 AM train pulled away, leaving the station in a ringing, lonely silence. The adrenaline that had kept me upright during the confrontation with Jaximus was evaporating, replaced by a cold, hollow ache that started in my marrow and settled in my stomach.

I tried to stand, but my knees gave a pathetic wobble. My "Pariah" body was hitting its limit.

"You’re bleeding again," Elara said. She was standing a few feet away, her guitar case clutched against her chest like a shield. She looked at me with deep suspicion, her eyes darting from my bloodied lip to my neon green shoes. "Who are you? Are you a stalker? One of those weird 'creeper' accounts?"

I leaned my back against the pillar, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold tiles. The Heart of Ice hummed, a low-frequency vibration in my skull that pushed the fog of pain aside. I needed to be professional. I needed to be the "Ghost Manager," not a beggar in a subway station.

"My name is Salim," I rasped, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in my jaw. "And I’m the person who is going to make sure those kids never sleep soundly again. But more importantly, I’m the person who’s going to make sure the world actually hears that song you were playing."

Elara let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right. A guy with a smashed phone and blood on his face is going to make me a star. Look, thanks for getting punched for me, I guess, but I don’t have any money to give you. I only made four dollars tonight, and three of that is for the bus."

She reached down to pick up her guitar, and that’s when I saw it. The bridge of her acoustic was pulling away from the body, the wood splintering under the tension of the strings. One more hard strum and the whole thing would snap. Her "S-Rank" talent was being strangled by a piece of junk that was literally falling apart.

[System Scan: Vessel Integrity Compromised.] [Target: Elara’s Guitar. Status: Critical.] [Note: A masterpiece cannot be played on a broken instrument.]

My stomach suddenly gave a violent, audible growl—a sound so loud it echoed off the station walls. It felt like someone had reached inside me and was twisting my intestines into a knot. I hadn't eaten since the gala. My body was cannibalizing itself.

"You're starving," Elara said, her expression softening from suspicion to pity. That pity stung worse than Jaximus’s punch. "Go buy a sandwich, Salim. Forget about me."

"I'm fine," I said, the Heart of Ice forcing my voice to remain flat and steady. I stood up, slowly, using the pillar for leverage. "We have work to do. Meet me at the Central Library tomorrow at noon. They have free Wi-Fi and computers. I’ll have the footage ready."

"With what tripod?" she asked, gesturing to my shaking hands. "You can't record a professional video with your hands trembling like that. It’ll look like a horror movie."

She was right. I needed stability. I needed to turn her raw talent into a digital product.

I turned away from her, walking toward the exit with a gait that felt like I was wading through waist-deep mud. My seven dollars felt like a burning coal in my pocket.

I climbed the stairs back to the street level. The sun was just beginning to grey the horizon, casting a bleak, sickly light over the city. A few blocks away, near a closed-down newsstand, an old man was setting up a folding table covered in "electronics"—mostly tangled cables, broken remote controls, and dusty camera gear.

I spotted a small, telescopic aluminum tripod. It was missing a rubber foot and looked like it would collapse if a stiff breeze hit it, but it had a universal phone mount.

"How much?" I asked.

The vendor looked at my bloodied face and my soaked clothes. "Ten bucks."

"I have five," I said. "And I’m not a tourist. Look at me. Do I look like I have ten dollars?"

The man grunted, looking at the neon green shoes. He probably realized I was one step away from joining him on the street. "Fine. Five. Take it and get out of here."

I handed him the five-dollar bill. My last "big" note.

[Current Funds: $2.00] [System Note: Strategic Investment Confirmed. 'The Tool of the Trade' acquired.]

As I walked back toward the subway entrance, the smell of a nearby 24-hour hot dog stand hit me like a physical blow. The scent of grilled meat and cheap mustard was intoxicating. My vision blurred. I could almost feel the snap of the casing, the rush of salt and calories that would stop the shaking.

Two dollars, I thought. A hot dog is exactly two dollars.

I walked toward the stand. The vendor was wiping down the counter, a steaming pile of franks glistening under the heat lamp. I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing the two remaining singles. My mouth watered so much it hurt.

I looked at the hot dogs. Then, I looked at the subway entrance.

If I ate, Elara wouldn't be able to get to the library. She’d told me she only had three dollars, and a round-trip bus pass was five. She would have to choose between coming to see me or eating herself. And if she didn't show up, the S-Rank talent would vanish back into the shadows.

[Influence Decision Detected: Self-Preservation vs. Management.]

I closed my eyes, the Heart of Ice freezing the hunger into a dull, manageable throb. I didn't want the hot dog. I wanted the Bakars to bleed. And I couldn't make them bleed with a full stomach and no talent.

I turned my back on the stand.

I walked to the automated transit kiosk inside the station entrance. I inserted my last two dollars and pressed the button for a single-ride transfer pass.

The machine spat out a thin, plastic card.

I walked back down to the platform. Elara was still there, packing her guitar with movements that looked like she was moving through water. I walked up to her and held out the pass.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your ticket to the library," I said. "Don't lose it. I don't have a second one."

She looked at the card, then up at me. She saw the way my hand was shaking, the way I was leaning against the wall just to stay upright. She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what that ticket had cost me.

"You're insane," she whispered.

"I'm a manager," I corrected her. "See you at noon, Elara."

I turned and walked away before she could see my legs buckle. I had a stomach that felt like it was digesting itself, and a split lip. But as I climbed the stairs back into the freezing morning air, the System flickered a soft, encouraging gold.

[Influence Level: -98] [Status: Starving Artist (Buff: Creativity +10% / Focus +20%)]

I had $0.00. But for the first time in my life, I felt like I was finally in control.