My Fiance Fell For A Livestreamer

The comment section was a riot of opinions, blooming in every direction.

[I'd ask this guy's fiancee to run! This guy doesn't just have something wrong with his brain—his brain is just a pit! I'll bet fifty cents that 'donation' was the money they saved up for the wedding!]

[Admiring outstanding women to the point of throwing money at them just to be top donor? Bro, your cost of 'admiration' is way too high. I support the fiancée calling it off—she deserves better.]

[Vague about where the money came from, turning the blame on the woman, and still has the nerve to ask her for compensation.]

[I'm camping here! Go demand your breakup fee! I've got my popcorn and soda ready—waiting for the law to teach you how to be human again!]

[SimonLovesClaire, I support you! You must insist on getting compensation!]

And the protagonist of our story was completely absorbed in his tragic-hero role—the man who found true love only after getting engaged.

He bounced around the comment section, arguing with everyone.

[When the feelings are gone, compensation still has to be discussed. I gave her the best five years of my youth. Her family has good conditions—emotionally and logically, they should show something.

[Don't worry, everyone. She's just angry for now. At her age, who else would want her anyway? In the end, she'll definitely come back to me.]

I scrolled and almost burst out laughing.

It was absurd beyond measure, ridiculous to the extreme.

How could someone live so comfortably inside such a perfectly self-contained delusion?

But what happened next was beyond anyone's expectations.

An account with a glittering corporate verification badge suddenly parachuted into the comment section.

The ID read: [Starlight Media – Artist Development Department." Its credentials were clearly displayed.

It posted a single comment and tagged Simon:

"Thank you to user @SimonLovesClaire for your support and affection toward our company's artist @ClaireBowler. Starlight Media values every fan's goodwill and is committed to building positive channels of interaction between artists and fans. For further fan engagement matters, please contact us via official private channels."

Simon reacted quickly.

In less than ten minutes, a brand-new post appeared, overflowing with manic joy.

[My patience has finally been rewarded! Claire's company has seen my sincerity! For Claire, my engagement must be canceled!]

His long rant was written with feverish passion.

[Starlight Media, the company Claire belongs to, noticed me! They asked me to contact them by private message! What does this mean? It means my persistence and sincerity have been officially recognized! Between Claire and me, there is a possibility! Thank you to everyone who understands me! And to those who mocked me—watch closely, true love has destiny on its side!

[As for my fiancée who wants to cancel the engagement, I'm sorry. I can no longer lie to myself, nor can I keep delaying you. The engagement is hereby terminated! All the money prepared for the wedding will be invested—entirely and without reservation—into supporting Claire's dream and career! This is the most worthwhile investment of my life!]

Attached was a new ranking screenshot, the amount far from small.

The note read: [Fully supporting Claire's star journey!]

He tagged Claire and Starlight Media again.

The comment section instantly flooded with "???" and "!!!"

Some kind-hearted users warned him to beware of scams. Others began digging into what kind of company this "Starlight Media" really was.

But Simon was already fantasizing about spending the rest of his life with Claire.

Even his replies carried a strange sense of superiority.

[You don't understand. Once I meet Claire in person, she'll definitely accept my confession.]

Watching this farce unfold, the last ripple of emotion in my heart finally settled.

All that remained was cold, detached spectatorship.

Until my eyes passed over that official account's name for the third time: Starlight Media.

I abruptly closed the app and swiped through my contacts, finding the one I had saved as "Uncle."

I opened his feed. His latest post was from half an hour ago.

A selfie in a massive conference room. He was wearing an outrageously flashy light-purple shirt, grinning from ear to ear.

The caption read: [New quarter. Starlight's brats, go all out for me—bonuses doubled!]

On the wall behind him, the huge, stylish company logo was unmistakably clear: Starlight Media.

I held my phone and slowly leaned back in my chair.

The corners of my lips, which had been pressed tight just moments before, began to curve upward.