The city outside my window was dead quiet, but on my screen, the jungle never slept.
11:57 PM.
Three minutes to midnight.
My tiny apartment was a mess—fast food cartons on the desk, a cracked mug beside the mic stand, walls so thin I could hear the neighbor's TV humming through the plaster.
But on my screen?
Paradise.
Purple neon lights framed the VocalLounge interface, glowing like a stage curtain. The music halls buzzed with voices—laughs, whispers, the echo of fake affection wrapping around wallets.
The predators were out tonight.
And I was about to join them.
My heart thrummed as I clicked "Go Live."
A warning popped up again:
> You are currently on suspension. Going live may result in penalties.
I hit Confirm.
The screen shifted, and there it was: my stage.
Velvet black background. My profile photo—a pair of crimson lips against silk. Username blazing in gold:
[VelvetVoice – Live Now]
A soft chime rang as the system broadcasted to my followers:
"VelvetVoice is live. Midnight Room now open."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The viewer count sat at zero.
Then—1.
Then 5.
Then 15.
The comments started trickling in:
> — WTF? Thought she quit.
— No way… SHE'S BACK?!
— Girl's got balls. Respect.
A grin tugged at my lips.
"Surprised?" My voice purred into the mic, low and honeyed, wrapping around every syllable like velvet on skin.
The chat exploded.
> — Holy shit, it's really her voice.
— Bro, I thought she was done for.
— Damn, this feels like old times.
I let the silence linger for a beat, then laughed softly—the kind of laugh that curls like smoke and makes men lean closer to their screens.
"Missed me?" I whispered.
Ding.
A gift notification slid across the screen: $10 – "Welcome back, Queen."
Then another. And another.
The gifts weren't big—virtual roses, glowing hearts—but they came fast, one after another, like sparks in dry grass.
> — Sing something for us, Velvet.
— Play our song. You know the one.
I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with mischief.
"Mmm, you boys want a song? How about…" I paused, scrolling through the playlist Sasha 1.0 had built—love ballads, heartbreak anthems, sultry jazz. Perfect weapons.
I picked one, something soft and sinful, and began to sing.
The notes rolled out like silk sheets, smooth and rich, each lyric curling into the cracks of lonely hearts behind glowing screens.
The gifts doubled. The chat turned feverish.
> — Jesus, I forgot how good she is.
— This voice… kill me now.
— If beauty was sound, this is it.
I smiled against the mic, eyes on the corner where the Leaderboard flickered.
From Rank 112, I'd already climbed to 92.
Not enough.
I needed noise. Fire. A goddamn explosion.
And right on cue—
DING!
A crimson banner slashed across the screen, accompanied by a full-screen animation of fireworks:
"$500 GIFT – From: Stone."
The entire chat froze.
Then detonated.
> — HOLY SHIT, STONE'S HERE?!
— Big Daddy Stone dropping bombs!!
— BRUH, that's a whole paycheck!!
My pulse spiked.
Stone.
I clicked his name, pulling up the profile. Same blank avatar. Same empty bio. Same silent, crushing presence.
The gifts didn't stop.
$1,000.
$2,000.
Each one triggering a system-wide broadcast:
"VelvetVoice is on FIRE! 🔥 Support her now!"
The viewer count exploded past 300. Then 500.
Other streamers were flooding in too, rubbernecking the car crash. Rival hosts dropping passive-aggressive comments:
> — Guess freakshow night's in session.
— Hope the $10k sugar daddy thinks she's worth it.
I ignored them. My voice never faltered as I slipped into the chorus, each note like a kiss drawn slow and deliberate.
The gifts stacked higher. My rank jumped like a rocket: #92 → #47 → #18.
Stone wasn't just tipping. He was staking a claim.
Then, at the peak of the song, a message appeared in the chat.
From him.
[Stone: Sing another.]
Two words.
And then—
$5,000.
The screen erupted in a golden storm, confetti raining down, a global broadcast screaming:
"VelvetVoice just received the BIGGEST GIFT of the night! 🎉 She's UNSTOPPABLE!"
The chat lost its mind.
> — WTF is happening?!
— This is HISTORY.
— $5k for ONE SONG?? Bro's insane.
I let the last note linger, soft and trembling, then whispered into the hush:
"For you, Stone… anything."
The comments went feral.
The leaderboard updated again.
Rank: #3.
From the ashes, the Queen had risen.
And this was just the beginning.
I leaned into the mic, lips curving like a blade.
"Stay with me," I murmured. "Midnight's just getting started."
DING.
Another gift. Another explosion.
And on my screen, Stone typed again.
[Stone: Don't let me down.]
The temperature in the room dropped.
Not a plea. Not a compliment.
A command.
And God help me—my pulse quickened.
Because something told me this man wasn't just a donor.
He was the storm.
And I had just stepped into the eye of it.
To be continued…
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