Influencer Feel-Good Story 단편 소설 & 소설

Everything runs perfectly at my grilled‑fish restaurant until a famous food‑blogger Brandon Cooper turns up unannounced to film a review. To my horror, the moment he gets a good look at the fish in my tanks, his face goes pale. "Look, everyone! This is an endangered fish. Eat any one of these, and you could end up behind bars!" Overnight, my restaurant's shut down, I'm under investigation, and my entire family's being harassed online. Everything I've built over the past ten years is nearly destroyed. Once the investigation findings came out, the truth finally came to light. I got my chance to turn the tables. "I've lost at least two million dollars since my restaurant was shut down. It's time for you to pay up!"

A split second before I swipe my card at the Hermès boutique, I hear my unborn son's scream inside my head. "Mom, don't buy this useless designer bag! The zombie apocalypse is only a month away! This is inedible, and it can't be used as a weapon either. What's the point of buying it? Buy essential food! Sell that limited-edition sports car at home and trade it for a bulletproof armored vehicle!" My hand trembles, and the purchase order worth millions scatters across the floor. The sales associate looks at me with disdain and says, "Ms. Webb, if you don't have enough funds, you can always come back another day." I ignore her and immediately turn around to call the owner of the wholesale market. Without wasting any time, I order, "I need 10,000 pounds of potatoes and 5,000 pounds of beef. Make sure it's the kind with the fatty parts! I want it delivered immediately!" From this moment onwards, the socialite Phoebe Webb who only knows how to shop is gone. In her place stands a survivalist obsessed with preparing for the end of the world.

I have been secretly dating Abigail Zimmerman, a female esports player, for three years. During a match, she openly flirts with an esports commentator named Nolan Carter. On my birthday, she shows up with her arm around him and asks to break up. She says, "How could a loser like you, who can't even play games, possibly understand my inner world?" I try to change her mind, but she mocks me mercilessly. "You can't hold a candle to even a strand of Nolan's hair. Get lost!" she barks. I am disappointed and give up on her completely. Right away, I remove her from the club. Abigail has no idea that I am the one who invests in the club she plays for.

Ethan hid his powerful family background to support his wife Victoria, only to watch success turn her cruel and arrogant. On her IPO day, her favorite company influencer beats a poor-looking old man nearly to death, believing he is Ethan's father. But the victim is actually Victoria's own father, and every insult, cover-up, and betrayal pushes Ethan to expose the truth and destroy the life she built on his love.

On the day we finish our SATs, my snobbish deskmate, Ava Levine, insists that we film a graduation confession video together. I reluctantly agree out of courtesy, but to our surprise, the video goes viral overnight. Hooked on her newfound fame, she forces her way into my home and demands that I give up my spot at a top university to become an influencer with her. When I refuse, she starts a livestream at midnight, drawing an audience of a hundred thousand. With fake bruises painted on her body, she bursts into tears and accuses me of sexually assaulting her after I pretend to confess my feelings for her. She also claims that I hold her captive and abuse her. Her fanatical fans dox me overnight. They splatter red paint across my home and send me razor blades in the mail. In the ensuing chaos, one of her fans pushes my mom down the stairs, taking her life instantly. Before I can even clear my name, a speeding car runs me over on my way to the police station. A wave of excruciating pain tears through me. Then, my eyes snap open. I'm back on the day our exams are over, just as Ava holds up her phone and pleads, "Just pretend to say yes, please. I'm begging you."

For eight years, I'd managed the career of my boyfriend, Aiden White, a famous celebrity. I was also a partner at Veyra Media and the one pulling the strings behind his career. But on our anniversary trip, Aiden and one of the company's top influencers left me behind at a hotel near a volcano. They drove for forty minutes before they even realized I wasn't with them. When Aiden finally answered my call, he sounded more annoyed than concerned. "Scarlett, why didn't you get in the car? We need to hike to the crater by five, or we'll miss the blue flames! We're already almost there. I can't turn around and drive all the way back for you!" "Scarlett can find a ride and meet us here," Karina said in the background. "You know she can take care of herself. She'll be fine." In the past, I would've swallowed my hurt and rushed to catch up with them. But this time, I stared at the moon in the distance and realized I didn't want to chase after Aiden anymore. I pulled up the itinerary I'd spent weeks planning and canceled every flight and hotel booking. Then I booked a new trip to Veythira, a quiet coastal town I'd always dreamed of visiting. Aiden had never wanted to go. He thought it was too remote and had nothing worth seeing. I was done following him. From now on, I'd choose my own path.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

Caleb and I were the internet's most popular couple creators. Over the past four years, we have traveled to dozens of cities and made countless viral videos. However, Caleb was the only one who ever appeared on camera. Instead, I stayed behind the scenes and did all the filming, editing, and planning the content. I was also the one who made every video go viral. Every day, people in the comments would guess. "What does Caleb's girlfriend look like?" "She must be someone beautiful and talented to win Caleb over." Initially, I had always thought Caleb was waiting for the right time to introduce me. It wasn't until one night when Caleb liked a comment. "I have a feeling that Caleb's girlfriend is Jessica. After all, they have way too many matching things." Soon, people found more proof of their relationship. A limited PR gift box sent to us appeared in Jessica's vlog. The matching mugs I picked showed up at her place. Even the jacket Caleb only wore at home could be seen hanging on a chair in the background of her video.

I had just left the hospital after undergoing a dilation and curettage procedure for uterine fibroids. On the bus, I happened to encounter a woman who was crying and claiming she had menstrual cramps and a terrible stomachache, asking me to give up my seat. But I refused. I never expected the woman to be the famous internet influencer, Bella Marsh. While I was completely unprepared, she started a livestream, and the next day, I was violently attacked online and pushed onto the trending searches. Netizens even dug up the record of my procedure at the hospital. “With a uterine wall that thin, it’s obvious she has had so many failed pregnancies.” “No wonder she was so shameless and refused to give up her seat—turns out she’s a despicable woman.” The so-called righteous netizens harassed me until I fell into depression, and even my boyfriend stepped forward to accuse me of being dirty and said he wanted to break up. Unable to endure the blow, I jumped from the rooftop, while the female influencer gained tens of millions of followers and began livestream selling, earning more money than she could count. Only after my death did I learn that the influencer had been my boyfriend’s childhood crush. To boost the popularity of her livestream, she and my boyfriend had deliberately staged the entire scene. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Bella asked me to give up my seat.

My ex-colleague, Brenda Wilson, finds out from an unknown source that I have taken in an adopted son. Because of that, she insists on matchmaking my son with her niece. "My niece has graduated from a proper college, you know! You don't have to prepare any fancy wedding gifts… Just 800 thousand dollars will do! On top of that, you can put her name on the deed of that fancy deluxe apartment in the city center. "From the way I see it, there's no need to choose the perfect date anymore. They should get their marriage registered tomorrow and do their best to give birth to a cute baby boy!" My adopted son has a volatile temper, so there's no way he'll go on a blind date with some random woman. I refuse Brenda's offer on the spot with a cold expression. Feeling furious and embarrassed, Brenda yells at me for being a stingy old lady. Then, she storms out of my place angrily. Three months later, Brenda shows up with her pregnant niece outside my residential area. There, they start a livestream and start crying their woes to the Internet. "Everyone, Emily Parker's adopted son tricked my poor niece, Ashley Collins, into sleeping with him! Yet now, he refuses to claim the unborn baby as his! "Oh, Ashley keeps crying every day! Can Emily even afford to take responsibility for my darling Ashley if she and her unborn baby end up dying because of that bastard? "If I gain 100 thousand likes by the end of today, I'll definitely commit suicide right on that Emily hag's doorstep!" As I look at the comments that demand justice in Brenda's livestream, I almost laugh out loud. My adopted son is actually a male monkey which has retired from the local zoo. On top of that, he's already neutered. So, what on earth is Ashley pregnant with? A magical baby monkey?

I have a rule that I stick to at all times. Every year, I will only host three livestreams. I accept and welcome everyone who joins my livestream. I don't care about the variety of requests made. On top of that, I don't charge anyone anything. As long as I agree to one's request, I'll definitely fulfill it no matter what they want. For the past three years, I've stuck to this rule, and I've never broken it. Because of that, every time my livestream starts, hundreds of thousands of viewers will instantly join my livestream. It's the third livestream this time, marking it the final livestream of the year. As soon as I begin the livestream, numerous comments begin filling up the comment section. The user who's lucky enough to score a chance to communicate with me on my livestream is a woman in her 40s. Her sideburns have already gone gray, and her eyes are sunken. She can be seen holding up a child's photo. "Connor, my son has gone missing for 20 years. Please help me find him. I'll sell my house. Heck, I'll do anything you say!" The comment section instantly goes wild. "Oh my god! What a pitiful mother!" "She's willing to sell everything she has just to find her child! Connor, you must help her!" "If you refuse to help this woman, who else are you going to help then, Connor?" I stare at the woman's face for three long seconds. That's when I feel an inexplicable chill running down my spine. Without hesitation, I close off the communication portal from the woman. "I refuse."

I worked as a security guard at an upscale condo complex. One night, during my shift, I helped a drunk resident to the elevator. The next day, she went live with red-rimmed eyes and accused me of groping her. Within three hours, people tracked down my personal information and plastered it all over the internet. When Dad heard about it back in my hometown, he was so distraught that he suffered a stroke. He was rushed to the nearest hospital, but he didn't make it. I posted the security footage online to prove my innocence. The most-liked comment read, [Management edited this, right? Who knows what you did to her afterward?] I went to confront her, but as I crossed the street, a dump truck ran a red light and sent me flying. Just before I lost consciousness, a private message came through from her social media manager. [Crystal says she'll take down the video if you admit what you did and pay her compensation.] When I opened my eyes again, I was standing at the desk in the complex's gatehouse. It was one a.m., and the influencer wasn't home yet. She had accused me of groping her when all I did was help her. This time, I wouldn't lay a finger on her.

Late one night, I was in a rideshare with a young woman when the driver told us he had to pick up a third passenger. She immediately started arguing with him. "Don't you dare! Take me home right now, or I'll report you!" "Miss, you booked a shared ride, not a private one—" "I don't care! I'll call the police and tell them you're deliberately going off the designated route and that you're up to something!" The driver's expression darkened by the second, and I could see his temper starting to get the better of him. I quickly paid the fare and pulled the young woman out of the car. She suddenly shrieked, "Help! This man is trying to harass me!" The moment she said it, several passersby rushed over and pinned me to the ground. Before I could even explain what had happened, I was taken to the police station. Overnight, she became the "Rideshare Nightmare Girl" everyone online sympathized with, gained over a million followers. Meanwhile, netizens doxxed me and exposed all my personal information, and countless people online bombarded me with curses and threats. In the end, I died a violent death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that shared ride…