Chapter 4: Livestream Showdown and Ghosts from the Past

But everyone seemed stressed about the next day’s livestream on our show’s app. People were buzzing about what to do.

The tension was thick. People were pacing, scribbling ideas on sticky notes, biting their nails. Even the most confident girls looked nervous. I felt it too.

“This stream is pretty important—we have to make the audience notice us.”

“The girls next door are doing a pajama fashion show. That’s pretty creative, honestly.”

“How do we make ourselves memorable?”

Someone suggested a cooking segment, but nobody wanted to risk burning down the dorm. Another floated a dance challenge, but it felt overdone. The pressure was real. My mind raced for ideas.

The other four were brainstorming, getting nowhere. I peeked down from my top bunk and asked carefully, “Do you guys… play League? As in League of Legends?” The room went silent.

For a second, I thought I’d said something wrong. Then Savannah’s eyes widened like I’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket.

“If you can play even a little, I can carry. Actually, I have an idea for tomorrow’s livestream. We could do a five-stack—like a full team—and show off some e-sports skills.”

Savannah Lee’s eyes lit up. “That could work! Sounds fun!” She grinned. “But… are you sure you can carry us?” Savannah was the best singer-dancer among us, and also the dorm leader. Once she agreed, the others had no objections.

I could tell she was competitive—she liked a challenge. The others started getting excited too, already picking out their favorite champions (that’s what you call characters in League, for the non-gamers).

We quickly added each other and practiced a few rounds. They were decent overall—only Savannah struggled, since she only knew how to play support (the helper role). I had them pick their best champions and assigned roles accordingly. In five minutes, I’d designed a lineup with myself as the core. I broke down the strategy and explained it in detail.

“Remember, tomorrow isn’t just a show match—it’s a ranked game. We need to win, but also play our best, nail the details. That’s how the audience will remember us.”

I wrote out a quick cheat sheet, handed out tips, and ran a dry run. They followed my lead, and for the first time, we felt like a real team. It was a little surreal.

By then, my roommates’ looks went from mild admiration to full-on fans. “Autumn, you can sing Broadway and you’re this good at games?!” “You climbed to Challenger rank solo! Stop being so humble!” I smiled at their praise, but honestly, I felt nothing. Not even a blip.

Praise bounced off me these days. I’d heard too much of the opposite for too long. I just wanted to get the job done.

Because gaming… always seemed pretty easy to me. I swear, as long as you break down the logic and time everything right, you’ll do fine. Know where you should be and what you should do at every moment. Predict the enemy’s moves. That’s how I approach everything—analyze the logic, make a plan, and stick to it no matter what.

I didn’t say it out loud, but I wished life worked the same way. If only there was a guidebook for surviving showbiz. Wouldn’t that be something?

“But did you hear? Tomorrow’s stream will have a mystery guest.” On the other side, Riley Nguyen said, “The guest’s scores will affect our results too.” I added, “Who is it?” Savannah jumped in, “I know! It’s the three-time award winner—Ethan Ford!”

The air changed instantly. I felt my stomach drop, and my hands clenched into fists under the covers. I stared at the ceiling. Why did it have to be him?

Ethan Ford. My temples throbbed. Why him? Seriously, universe?

Of all people, why did it have to be Ethan? I tried to keep my face neutral, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Ugh, not now.

Ethan Ford went to high school with me. Yeah, wild, right?

Funny story—he once wrote me a love letter, but I turned him down, saying I had to focus on my studies. Senior year was all about SATs and college apps; I had no time for anything else. We both got into the American Academy for the Arts. But Ethan got lucky—by his second semester, a famous director cast him, and he landed a breakout role, winning Best Actor. While I was still grinding through early-morning acting drills, he was already tearing up the entertainment scene. Later, I fought my way into the industry too—with predictable results. High school felt like our only intersection. After that, Ethan soared, and no matter how hard I worked, my dreams just seemed to slip further away. I loved acting, but honestly, I just wasn’t good at it. My teachers said maybe I lacked talent. But I never believed in talent. I only believed you have to earn everything through hard work. That’s why I’m here now. No shortcuts.

I replayed all of it in my head: the study sessions, the missed parties, the years of trying to catch up. I never let myself hope for shortcuts.

I snapped back to reality, looking at my phone. “Remember what we talked about yesterday. Don’t forget those key points.” I went over the plan again via group chat, making sure everyone was on the same page.

I typed out reminders, double-checked our lineup, and tried to keep everyone calm. If we stuck to the plan, we’d be fine. That’s what I kept telling myself.

The host was hyping us up out front. “Next up, Dorm 504 brings you their livestream!” Our five phone screens were projected onto the big screen. I sat in the corner, Savannah in the middle. Even though I contributed the most, and they wanted me in the center, I didn’t take it. Because I knew everyone hated me. I was more worried that too much camera time would just make the audience dislike us more. My roommates were all up-and-coming contestants; I couldn’t drag them down. I couldn’t risk it.

I kept my head down, focused on the game. I was determined not to mess this up for anyone else.

The game started. I picked Ahri. It wasn’t much of a fight—we won easily. I opened the replay, ready to do a tactical breakdown, but someone beat me to it. “This lineup, built around Ahri, was the perfect choice.” I looked up from my gaming chair—right into Ethan’s eyes.

Ethan Ford glanced at me, then continued analyzing the match for the audience. I muted my mic, totally confused by his intentions. What was his angle?

He was cool and collected, but I could see a glimmer of mischief in his smile. Was he helping me, or setting me up? I honestly couldn’t tell.