My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 14: The 1,000-Yard Stare

The granite steps of the library were cold, but the park bench was worse.

I didn't remember being moved. The transition from the library floor to the hard, damp wooden slats of a bench in Bryant Park was a blur of rough hands and the smell of wet pavement. I was drifting in a feverish, semi-conscious state where the line between reality and memory had dissolved entirely.

I was back at the gala.

The air was warm and smelled of expensive cedarwood and roasted lamb. My father was standing at the head of the table, his hand resting on Marcus’s shoulder. They were laughing—a rich, deep sound that felt like it was made of gold coins. In front of me was a plate of Wagyu steak, the juices shimmering under the crystal chandeliers. I reached for a fork, my mouth watering with a desperation that felt like fire.

But as my fingers touched the silver, the steak turned to ash. The chandeliers flickered and died, replaced by the flickering orange glow of a street lamp. The smell of lamb vanished, replaced by the scent of exhaust and old trash.

I jolted awake, my body convulsing in a violent shiver.

It wasn't the gala. It wasn't the steak. It was midnight in the city, and the "Pariah" status had never felt more literal. My hoodie was damp, my jeans were stiff with dried subway grime, and my split lip had crusted over, making it painful to even breathe.

I sat up slowly, my joints popping like dry twigs. My vision was swimming, the "1,000-yard stare" of the truly desperate settling into my eyes. I looked at the dark silhouette of the library across the street.

Noon, I thought, a spike of cold panic piercing through the fog. Elara. I told her to meet me at noon.

I looked at the sky. The moon was high, a pale, uncaring sliver of white. I had slept through the entire day. I had slept through the appointment. I had given her the last of my money—the ticket to her future—and then I had vanished like the "loser" Jaximus said I was.

"Damn it," I croaked, my voice a broken rasp.

I reached into my pocket. My fingers were numb, fumbling for the burner phone. It felt cold and dead. I pressed the power button, expecting nothing.

Bzzzt.

The vibration was so strong it nearly fell from my hand. The screen flickered to life, the gold light of the System cutting through the darkness of the park like a flare.

[Status: 1% Battery (Emergency Reserves Active)] [Condition: Severe Dehydration / Hypothermia Stage 1] [Notification: The World Has Noticed.]

The phone didn't just show the home screen. It was an explosion of data. The notification shade was a waterfall of white text, scrolling so fast I couldn't read it.

I tapped on the video app.

[Title: The Voice of the 4:00 AM Shadow] [Views: 542,109 and counting...] [Likes: 188,000] [Shares: 42,000]

My breath caught in my throat. It had been less than twelve hours since I hit 'Publish.' In the digital world, I hadn't just made a ripple; I had detonated a bomb.

I scrolled down to the comments. The "Contrast Filter" I’d embedded had worked better than I ever could have imagined.

@User4421: "I was literally just looking at Marcus Bakar’s steak dinner and then this popped up. The contrast is disgusting. How can people live like that while this girl is getting punched in the face for her art?"

@MusicHeads: "Who IS she? That voice is haunting. And who is the guy in the green shoes? He took a hit and didn't even drop the camera. That's a real one."

@JusticeSeeker: "Identify the bullies! Let's make Jaximus famous for the right reasons. #ProtectTheSiren"

The "Luxury Fatigue" the System had predicted was feeding the fire. Marcus's post, intended to show his dominance, had become the perfect fuel for Elara's rise. He was the villain the world didn't know they hated until they saw her.

The System interface flashed a deep, regal gold, momentarily overriding the low-battery warning.

[Milestone Achieved: The First Spark.] [Influence Level Jump: -100 (Pariah) → -45 (The Ghost Manager)] [Rank Update: You are no longer invisible. You are a rumor.]

I stared at the numbers. My Influence Level had nearly doubled. It didn't mean I had money—the ad revenue wouldn't hit for weeks, and I didn't even have a bank account to link it to—but it meant the weight was lifting. The air felt slightly thinner. The "Pariah" debuff was receding.

But the victory was hollow.

I looked at the empty park. Elara had come here at noon. She had used the bus pass I’d starved myself to buy. She had walked into that library, looked for the "Manager" who promised her the world, and found nothing but empty chairs and suspicious librarians.

I had given her the ticket, but I hadn't been there to open the door.

I stood up, my legs shaking so hard I had to lean against the back of the bench. I had 500,000 views, but I was still a starving boy in a park with two cents and a dead phone.

I looked at the "1,000-yard stare" in my own reflection on the screen. The eyes weren't the eyes of a Bakar anymore. They were harder. Sharper.

"I didn't miss it," I whispered into the cold night air, my teeth chattering. "The video is the signal. She'll see the views. She'll know I wasn't lying."

The phone screen flickered one last time before going black.

[System Note: Phase 2 – Survival. The world is watching. Now, give them a show worth seeing.]

I turned away from the library and started to walk. I didn't know where Elara lived, but I knew the "Flow of Attention." I knew that with half a million views, the city was now looking for the "Subway Siren."

And I was the only one who knew where the Ghost was hiding.