Summary
I was the vicious true heir in a story about a real son and his impostor. The impostor, the story’s bottom lead, assumed I was an uneducated good-for-nothing and signed me up for the Interstellar Livestream Writing Competition to humiliate me.
Except that on my very first day, my stream shot into the top ten on the popularity chart.
StarNet viewers watching me write for the first time, still innocent of how cruel a person could be:
[AAAAH, ARE WE ALLOWED TO SHIP THIS?!]
[So what? Everyone’s shipping it. Everyone else is drunk on this ship, and I’m absolutely wasted.]
[Yes, yes… Wait. No. No, no, no…]
[Author, what are you DOING? You’d better fix this plot!]
Readers who’d already experienced my emotional knife work:
[The pain is normal.]
[The author has a conscience. Just not much of one.]
[We told you to have tissues ready. You acted like we were out to get you.]







