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."

It was as if the livestream had been silenced.

For two whole seconds, the screen was completely blank. Then, the comments began to flood in.

Someone even sent a row of question marks.

"Wait a second. Are my ears playing tricks on me? Did he say that he's not going to help her?"

"What did you say, Connor? Why aren't you willing to help her?"

"Did the livestream glitch? Can you repeat yourself, Connor?"

"That's impossible. It's been three years since he started helping people, but it's the first time he's ever rejected someone."

I didn't explain myself and simply accepted another person's request to join the call.

It was a man in his 30s. His work uniform was covered in dust. He explained that a company hadn't paid his father in two years. When his father tried to ask them for the salary that they owed him, they broke his legs. On top of that, the police ignored him when he reported the incident to them.

"I'll help him. Send his address and details to me."

The next person was a college student. They mentioned that their roommate had been stalking them for three months. When they reported the roommate to the police, they were told that a case couldn't be opened due to insufficient evidence.

"I'll help you."

The fourth person who joined the call was a woman in her 50s. A health supplement company had scammed her out of hundreds of thousands of dollars of her retirement money.

"I'll help you."

Every answer that I gave was direct and to the point, accepting their requests without any hesitation.

The commenters began to notice that something was amiss.

"So, you'll help someone get their salary, deal with their stalker, and get back the money that was scammed from them, but you won't help someone look for their missing child?"

"What kind of logic is this? Can you explain yourself?"

"I don't understand. Are these other cases truly more important than locating someone's child who has been missing for two decades?"

"Maybe Connor knows something that we don't. He never turns someone's request down without a good reason."

"Stop trying to defend him. It's obvious that he's accepting requests according to his own preferences."

I ignored the comments and continued accepting calls.

My fingers paused for a moment when the fifth person was selected.

It was the woman again.

I didn't know how she had managed to enter the waiting room where the callers were randomly selected again.

Her eyes were even more bloodshot this time. The tip of her nose had turned bright red, and her voice was thick with tears.

"I don't know what I did wrong, Connor. Can you tell me why you won't help me? Did I say something wrong? If money's the issue, I can give the deed of my house to you. I'm willing to do anything.

"He's my only child. He went missing when he was only three years old. He's already 23 years old this year, but I don't even know what he looks like…"

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, splattering onto the photo that she was holding.

All the commenters began to speak up on her behalf.

"Is your heart made of stone, Connor? Look at how much she's crying."

"She's such a nice woman. Why won't you help her?"

"I feel so sorry for her. Her child was only three years old when she lost him."

"I'm begging you, Connor. Please help her."

I looked at the woman's tear-streaked face on the screen, remaining silent for the next three seconds.

I nearly opened my mouth to speak, but I held myself back in the end. I knew that the moment I said something, I would never be able to take the words back.

"I already said that I won't help you. Next."

I disconnected her from the call.

There were some people in the world who weaponized their tears to get others to do their bidding. I refused to fall for her tricks a second time.

The commenters lost their tempers at my response.

"I'm done. I'm so done with him."

"She's crying so much, but you won't even give her a reason for why you won't help her?"

"What's wrong with you today, Connor? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I'm so disappointed. I've been your fan for three years, but this is the first time I'm considering unfollowing you."

"I think Connor has his own reasons. Let's just wait and see how this unfolds."

I didn't explain myself and turned off the livestream after listening to two more requests.

There had been 470 thousand people watching my livestream. For the first time in three years, I ended my livestream while being heavily criticized by the audience.

That night, that woman posted a video. In the video, she sat on an old and worn-out couch. The paint was peeling from the wall behind her.

The woman described how she had been searching for her child for the past two decades. She explained how and where she had lost him, what happened after she reported the incident to the police, where she had searched for him, how much money she had spent, and how much hardship she had endured.

She also displayed countless train tickets, bus tickets, and accommodation receipts before the camera. They were piled up into thick stacks, but one could tell that there were at least thousands of them.

"I don't blame Connor," she said calmly at the end of the video. "Perhaps he has his reasons. Perhaps he thinks that my case is too difficult to solve. But I just want to let everyone know that I will continue searching for my son. I will find him even if I have to search for another 20 years."

The woman lifted the yellowed photo and smiled at the camera before ending the video. The smile was even more upsetting than if she had cried.

The video garnered over five million views overnight. The comments section was filled with heartbroken and furious messages.

"She's such a good mother. Who's the livestreamer who was heartless enough to reject her?"

"I cried my heart out after watching the video. You'll definitely be able to find your son again."

"That livestreamer usually pretends to be a saint, but his true character comes out when he meets someone who actually needs his help."

"How dare he claim that he'll help everyone who asks for his assistance? Don't make me laugh. He's actually selective with the people he helps."

"Can someone send me a link to this guy's livestream? I want to see for myself what type of character he is."

The next morning, my livestream's comments section was bombarded with a barrage of messages.

There were thousands of comments, but one couldn't find a single one that spoke well about me even after scrolling through ten pages.

I ignored the comments and started my livestream. Not because I wanted to clear my name, but because I had already planned to help someone with their case that day.

The number of viewers shot up from zero to over 600 thousand within seconds after I started the livestream, surpassing the number of viewers yesterday by close to 200 thousand.

However, the viewers weren't here to watch me solve the case. They were here to demand an explanation from me.

"He's here. The cold-blooded livestreamer is online."

"Can you give us an explanation today? Why won't you help that woman?"

"Did you watch the video that she posted last night? It's been 20 years since she last saw her son. Do you have even a shred of humanity within you?"

"You won't help that woman find her child even though he's been missing for 20 years, but you're willing to help another woman get back her money after she got scammed by a health supplement company. Is that woman's money really that important?"

There were a few commenters who were on my side and stuck up for me.

"Can you guys be a little more rational? Connor has helped so many people after he started livestreaming three years ago, and he has never left a case unsolved. He must have his reasons."

"That's right. Maybe he knows something that we don't. We should just wait for him to explain himself."

"Connor's not that kind of person. I believe in him."

However, these supportive comments were swiftly buried.

I sat before the camera and swept my eyes across the comments before saying calmly, "I started streaming today because I promised to help this person with their case. I won't be commenting on anything else."

Countless comments flooded the livestream.

"You won't be commenting? Are you kidding me? There are over 600 thousand people watching you!"

"Are you feeling guilty? You're too scared to talk about it now, huh?"

"Just tell us directly if you can't help her. Why won't you give us a reason?"

"What's with the aloof act? You're just a conman, aren't you?"

I ignored the comments and invited the man I was helping into my call.

I had promised to help the man last week. He was a deliveryman whose pay had been maliciously docked by a food delivery platform. Although he had lodged a complaint against the platform six months ago, he hadn't gotten any results yet.

I introduced the man to a lawyer and even confirmed his follow-up plan on the spot.

The commenters continued talking about that woman during the entire process. None of them cared about the deliveryman.

After I disconnected the call and was just about to end the livestream, a notification popped up.

"User 'FelicityLittleIsLookingForHerSon' is requesting to join your call."

The commenters went wild.

"Accept! Accept her request right now!"

"You're too scared to accept, huh? You're feeling guilty now, huh?"

"If you're a man, you'll accept the request, Connor. Explain yourself in front of all of us right now!"

"Let her join the call! Let her ask you why you won't help her."

My fingers hovered above the screen as I looked at the ID.

If there were 100 comments in the livestream, 99 of them were demanding that I accept Felicity Little's request to join the call.

However, the viewers were unaware of Felicity's story. It was far more complicated than the sob story that she had made up.

Sometimes, the truth was like a rusty nail. You could still survive even after the nail was plunged into your flesh. However, if one pulled it out, the wound would bleed excessively.

Felicity wouldn't be the only one who bled. Somebody else would get hurt too.

I rejected her request and ended the livestream.

There had been over 730 thousand viewers this time.

The last comment had been, "Hmph! He ran away."

The situation began to escalate out of my control two hours after I ended the livestream.

Firstly, a few marketing accounts covered the incident. Each headline that they released was more outrageous than the last.

"Livestreamer With a Million Followers Rejects a Mother's Call for Help to Find Her Child. Coldly Refuses to Comment on His Refusal."

"The Faux Saint Finally Shows His True Colors After Three Years."

"She's Been Searching for Her Son for Two Decades. He Refuses to Explain Why He Rejected Her."

The photo that was attached with the articles was an edited picture of me when I had emotionlessly ended the livestream last night and Felicity when she had cried in front of the camera.

The contrast between both photos was stark.

The comments section was filled with people expressing their opinions.

Someone dug up the cases I had solved in the past and said, "I wonder if the people he helped in the past were just setups."

"Someone like him depends on sob stories to gain views. He's getting cold feet now that he has to deal with an actual case."

"Can someone check if he actually solved those cases after accepting payment from his clients?"

However, the one thing that actually made my blood pressure soar was a video that was posted at 3:00 pm.

I knew the man who posted the video—George Ferguson. He was in his 40s, and I had helped him last year.

His daughter was being bullied by her teachers, but the school refused to take action while the Department of Education constantly shifted blame to other parties.

After reaching his wits' end, George decided to seek help in my livestream.

I helped him get into contact with the media and a lawyer. I spent two weeks on the case before finally solving it.

George had been sobbing when he thanked me profusely during the livestream, promising that he would remember my kindness for the rest of his life.

However, at that moment, he had released a two-minute video.

In the video, George wore a self-righteous expression as he said, "It's true that I received help from Connor in the past, but I feel that I have to step forward and speak out about what's been happening.

"A mother who's been searching for her child for the last two decades begged you for help, but not only did you reject her request, but you also refused to give her a reason for your rejection.

"I don't know if you've changed or if you've always been this way. If you've always been this type of man, did you only help me in the past for views? I really regret thanking you. You don't deserve my gratitude."

The video had thousands of comments. Everyone was praising George for speaking out against me.

"Good on you for putting righteousness above all else!"

"This is a real man with a good heart."

"He only helped you because he wanted to build his fake persona. Now, that persona is crumbling."

I stared at the video for a long time, my knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping my phone.

I had made dozens of calls when I was helping George. I had also forked out my own money to pay the eight-thousand-dollar lawyer's fee.

George still hadn't paid me back yet, but he had used a two-minute video to undermine everything that I had done for him.

However, I suppressed my anger. Not because I had to, but because there was no need for me to rise to the bait.

The truth was like a ticking time bomb. I didn't want to set it off yet because the moment it exploded, more than one person would be caught in the blast.

…

I received a call from Mom at 7:00 pm.

"Someone egged our house, Connor," she said.

My heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Someone threw eggs at our house. Someone even used a bag of rotten vegetables," she said, sounding a little anxious. "They also left a note on the door, talking about how someone who refused to help a person in need would meet a terrible end."

I tightened my grip on my phone and said, "Don't open the door, Mom. I'll—"

"Also," she interjected in a hushed voice, interrupting me, "Mrs. Bratford dropped by to visit us today. She told me that you're being criticized by everyone online—that they're calling you a conman. She asked me if you had done something bad. I told her that was impossible, but her gaze…"

Mom sounded choked up when she continued, "What's going on, Connor? I don't know what's happening online, but you should tell me if you're in trouble."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm fine, Mom. I can take care of it. You and Dad should stay home for now. I'll come home tomorrow."

I sat in the darkness and didn't move an inch after I hung up.

My screen was lit up, showing Felicity's newest video. She was still crying on the thumbnail.

Her crying face looked so anguished and genuine, just like two decades ago.

I didn't watch the video.