Chapter 24: Framed in Spotlight
Chapter 24: Framed in Spotlight
[CRUEL, CALEB THE BUTTMANIAC THREATENS AN OLD MAN]Caleb’s eyes went wide when he saw his blurred-out face slapped on the article. His hand shook, thumb scrolling like a maniac.
The headline hit him in the gut: Joe straight-up claimed Caleb had threatened him to do crazy shit on yesterday’s live interview. Even worse—supposedly there were chat logs already handed to the cops.
"The fuck is this...? Joe remembering threats, fine, whatever. But chat logs?!" Caleb muttered, head spinning. "Did the damn hijack bug out yesterday?!"
His brain went haywire—none of this added up. Joe shouldn’t even remember doing that insane shit. There should’ve only been digital traces, not crystal-clear memories.
"Joe... no way that old bastard cooked this up himself. Chat logs? Police? Hell no... he ain’t that slick..." Caleb clenched his jaw, cold sweat dripping down his temple.
"Then who the hell’s stirring the pot?" he hissed, eyes narrowing like a cornered dog.
One name dropped into his mind, bitter as fuck, lighting up his anger.
"...Sarah?"
Caleb rushed open Twitlit. His eyes blew wide.
The leak was already out there—screenshots of chat logs, painting him like he really did threaten Joe.
"The fuck...?" Caleb squinted, his face tightening. "This is too damn fast... way too weird."
He scrolled hard, pulse racing. The comment section was exploding, drowning in hate:
[Sick bastard!]
[Clear as day he threatened Joe, those chat logs don’t lie!]
[ButtManiac behind bars!]
[Why the hell is this guy still walking free?!]
Caleb frowned, lips twitching. No... this doesn’t add up, he thought. Why the hell is everyone buying this?
"Fake accounts? Bots?" he muttered. But the deeper he scrolled, the clearer it got—too many comments, retwits, reactions. This wasn’t some half-ass manipulation.
"Shit..." Caleb’s fist clenched tight. Felt like the whole damn world was ganging up on him.
Then his mind snapped to Sarah.
His heartbeat spiked, jaw locking with rage. "Tonight... Sarah’s fucking done," he hissed.
He yanked open DuDugram, fingers trembling, eyes hunting for her profile. But once it popped up, his eyes widened again—Sarah’s Halloween Live got canceled.
"WHAT?!" Caleb nearly dropped his phone. Anger and confusion stabbed through his skull. "Why the fuck was it canceled...?"
He hunched over the screen, jaw hard as stone. "This... ain’t coincidence."
His brain raced. Conspiracy. This was a setup. Too fast. Too clean. Even big media outlets were spinning it like he was the damn mastermind.
Caleb pressed his temples, cold sweat sliding down. No way Joe could’ve played the media, no way he could move the whole damn Twitlit crowd. AI? No. Old bastard couldn’t even work a smartphone.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed, breath heavy.
"Sarah..." he whispered, venom dripping.
"...you pulled the strings, didn’t you? Using all this shit to trap me?"
He ground his teeth, fury boiling.
"You think you can keep playing me, Sarah? Fuck that... I swear, I’m throwing this shit back in your face."
[Ding!]
That cursed chime stabbed into his skull like a needle.
Caleb froze, chest tight, lungs forgetting how to breathe.
A ghostly blue hologram tore into existence, hovering in front of him like some demon’s joke. The letters pulsed cold, crawling under his skin.
[Daily Quest Activated]
[Quest – Hijack the Spotlight]
[Details]:
– Target: 1 individual (your pick)
– Objective: Drag 100 sets of eyes toward the hijacked target
– Reward: 30 EXP, 20 Hijack Points
– Duration: 23:59
– Bonus: ??? (Classified)
[PENALTY]:
Prefrontal Cortex & Hippocampus will be suppressed → Reality Monitoring compromised.
Effects:
– Memories twisting like broken film
– Hallucinations bleeding into reality
– Permanent brain damage risk if impact occurs during penalty
The countdown gnawed at the corner of the holo, ticking like a death clock:
[23:59:59]... [23:59:58]... [23:59:57]...
Caleb’s throat clenched. Sweat slicked his temples. His veins twitched under the skin like they wanted to crawl out.
"Fuck... this shit’s playing with my head."
He staggered to the bathroom, hands gripping the sink. Water splashed, but his reflection in the mirror didn’t move right—it lagged a second behind, grinning faintly when he wasn’t.
Caleb’s breath hitched. "Quest? Joe?... FUUUUUCKKKKKK!!!" he bellowed, smashing his palm on the porcelain till cracks spidered across the sink. His reflection kept grinning, teeth too sharp, eyes too wide.
The hologram’s timer kept ticking, louder now, like a bomb in his skull.
The hologram twitched, letters glitching before re-forming into another chilling line:
[Condition Update]
Must be performed in an open space, in front of the host’s eyes.
All gazes on the target must be real.
Digital attention will NOT be counted.
----
Caleb’s pupils shrank. His breath hitched like he just swallowed a blade.
"Out in the open... in front of the host?" he muttered, voice cracking between rage and disbelief. "So this ain’t some online bullshit again... it wants some IRL shit."
The words kept burning in his mind. Not clicks. Not retwits. Not some leak going viral.
Real eyes. Real stares. Real blood in the air.
His nails dug into the edge of the sink, porcelain grinding under his grip.
"Fuck... so I gotta drag a hundred people to stare at the poor bastard I hijack?" Caleb hissed, spitting the words at his reflection.
His mirrored self smirked back—though he never moved his lips.
The countdown kept eating seconds.
[23:57:42]... [23:57:41]...
Caleb slammed the mirror with his fist, then slowly grinned, a twisted smile splitting his face.
"...Halloween night. Perfect fucking stage."
He straightened his back, eyes gleaming with a manic light.
"Fine. If this game wants real eyes... then tonight, I’ll make the whole damn crowd watch something fun...."
Caleb dragged in a long breath, chest heaving like he was trying to hold himself together. Life’s just getting weirder by the damn day... The whole ButtManiac mess—headlines, leaks, Twitlit mobs, even cops—it was too much, too loud. Sure, Sarah was a narcissistic bitch, but how the hell did it blow up this big? None of it made sense.
"Shit..." Caleb muttered, rubbing his face with both hands, knuckles grinding into his eyes.
He shoved the bathroom door open, stepping back into the dim room. Morning light cut through the curtains, stabbing at his tired eyes.
Then—
"...Caleb."
A woman’s voice. Clear. Close.