Chapter 2

That night, that woman posted a video. In the video, she sat on an old and worn-out couch. The paint was peeling from the wall behind her.

The woman described how she had been searching for her child for the past two decades. She explained how and where she had lost him, what happened after she reported the incident to the police, where she had searched for him, how much money she had spent, and how much hardship she had endured.

She also displayed countless train tickets, bus tickets, and accommodation receipts before the camera. They were piled up into thick stacks, but one could tell that there were at least thousands of them.

"I don't blame Connor," she said calmly at the end of the video. "Perhaps he has his reasons. Perhaps he thinks that my case is too difficult to solve. But I just want to let everyone know that I will continue searching for my son. I will find him even if I have to search for another 20 years."

The woman lifted the yellowed photo and smiled at the camera before ending the video. The smile was even more upsetting than if she had cried.

The video garnered over five million views overnight. The comments section was filled with heartbroken and furious messages.

"She's such a good mother. Who's the livestreamer who was heartless enough to reject her?"

"I cried my heart out after watching the video. You'll definitely be able to find your son again."

"That livestreamer usually pretends to be a saint, but his true character comes out when he meets someone who actually needs his help."

"How dare he claim that he'll help everyone who asks for his assistance? Don't make me laugh. He's actually selective with the people he helps."

"Can someone send me a link to this guy's livestream? I want to see for myself what type of character he is."

The next morning, my livestream's comments section was bombarded with a barrage of messages.

There were thousands of comments, but one couldn't find a single one that spoke well about me even after scrolling through ten pages.

I ignored the comments and started my livestream. Not because I wanted to clear my name, but because I had already planned to help someone with their case that day.

The number of viewers shot up from zero to over 600 thousand within seconds after I started the livestream, surpassing the number of viewers yesterday by close to 200 thousand.

However, the viewers weren't here to watch me solve the case. They were here to demand an explanation from me.

"He's here. The cold-blooded livestreamer is online."

"Can you give us an explanation today? Why won't you help that woman?"

"Did you watch the video that she posted last night? It's been 20 years since she last saw her son. Do you have even a shred of humanity within you?"

"You won't help that woman find her child even though he's been missing for 20 years, but you're willing to help another woman get back her money after she got scammed by a health supplement company. Is that woman's money really that important?"

There were a few commenters who were on my side and stuck up for me.

"Can you guys be a little more rational? Connor has helped so many people after he started livestreaming three years ago, and he has never left a case unsolved. He must have his reasons."

"That's right. Maybe he knows something that we don't. We should just wait for him to explain himself."

"Connor's not that kind of person. I believe in him."

However, these supportive comments were swiftly buried.

I sat before the camera and swept my eyes across the comments before saying calmly, "I started streaming today because I promised to help this person with their case. I won't be commenting on anything else."

Countless comments flooded the livestream.

"You won't be commenting? Are you kidding me? There are over 600 thousand people watching you!"

"Are you feeling guilty? You're too scared to talk about it now, huh?"

"Just tell us directly if you can't help her. Why won't you give us a reason?"

"What's with the aloof act? You're just a conman, aren't you?"

I ignored the comments and invited the man I was helping into my call.

I had promised to help the man last week. He was a deliveryman whose pay had been maliciously docked by a food delivery platform. Although he had lodged a complaint against the platform six months ago, he hadn't gotten any results yet.

I introduced the man to a lawyer and even confirmed his follow-up plan on the spot.

The commenters continued talking about that woman during the entire process. None of them cared about the deliveryman.

After I disconnected the call and was just about to end the livestream, a notification popped up.

"User 'FelicityLittleIsLookingForHerSon' is requesting to join your call."

The commenters went wild.

"Accept! Accept her request right now!"

"You're too scared to accept, huh? You're feeling guilty now, huh?"

"If you're a man, you'll accept the request, Connor. Explain yourself in front of all of us right now!"

"Let her join the call! Let her ask you why you won't help her."

My fingers hovered above the screen as I looked at the ID.

If there were 100 comments in the livestream, 99 of them were demanding that I accept Felicity Little's request to join the call.

However, the viewers were unaware of Felicity's story. It was far more complicated than the sob story that she had made up.

Sometimes, the truth was like a rusty nail. You could still survive even after the nail was plunged into your flesh. However, if one pulled it out, the wound would bleed excessively.

Felicity wouldn't be the only one who bled. Somebody else would get hurt too.

I rejected her request and ended the livestream.

There had been over 730 thousand viewers this time.

The last comment had been, "Hmph! He ran away."