I called out from the genkan as I entered my home.

"I'm back!"

Of course, no one replied. Baiyu was in her room upstairs, but she’d long outgrown the age where she’d rush to greet her father after work with a happy smile.

Honestly, it felt a little lonely…

I slipped off my shoes, neatly placed them in the shoe cabinet, and swapped into house slippers before heading to the living room.

Thumping sounds came from the ceiling, accompanied by faint, cheerful music drifting down from the second floor.

I checked the time—just past three. Dinner was still early. But after Miss Kaneki recently rejected my manuscript, my mood was low, and I didn’t feel like working right away.

I needed some magic to recharge my spirit.

So I grabbed the tablet from the living room coffee table, sank comfortably into the sofa, and tapped an app icon after connecting to Wi-Fi.

It featured a cute cat logo—the Doumao live-streaming platform, the country’s largest. Baiyu streamed there. Thanks to her sweet looks and lovely voice, she’d genuinely become a minor celebrity.

I searched for Baiyu’s stream room and clicked in. Her room name was: [Baiyu loves singing, dancing, and Midnight Chronicles—mwah mwah (≖ ‿ ≖)✧].

The kaomoji made my heart melt instantly.

The screen lit up with Baiyu’s room. She was dancing an anime routine on the rug between her bed and desk, to the Japanese song "Love Circulation." As a novelist, I’d consumed plenty of Japanese anime and manga, immersing myself in otaku culture.

Baiyu was pretty and well-built, but her dancing was undeniably clumsy and frantic.

Chat messages flooded in:

"Stop dancing, little streamer~ sing instead!"

"Girl, we’re on your side—just quit!"

"Unsubscribing, unsubscribing! One more dance and I’m gone."

Baiyu ignored them, dancing happily until the music stopped. She returned to her desk, tidying her messy hair in front of the camera.

"Woaaah, so cute!"

"Let me lick that screen instead!"

"Typing one-handed to prove I’m innocent."

I bristled at the lewd comments. Licking screens? How gross!

…Though, I wondered fleetingly what a screen tasted like. Should I try?

Just kidding—I’d never do something that disgusting!

Probably.

Baiyu feigned anger at the chat: "Was I really that bad? I tried my best!"

"At least you tried—you’d never know how bad you are otherwise."

"Seconded."

"LMAO (～~▽~)～, dying at these comments."

"You guys…" Baiyu grumbled, then giggled. Clearly, she wasn’t truly mad—just bantering warmly with fans.

I felt a twinge of envy. That direct, face-to-face interaction was something my IF website novel comments lacked. I rarely checked my book reviews anyway; some comments crushed my spirit for days.

Viewers started tipping Baiyu, and she thanked each cheerfully. To support her, I’d signed up on Doumao, topped up 500 yuan, and bought five gold cat food gifts. (Cat food was Doumao’s tipping currency: bronze = 1 yuan, silver = 10 yuan, gold = 100 yuan, platinum = 1,000 yuan, diamond = 10,000 yuan. "Feeding cat food" meant tipping. During my watch, fans had already fed Baiyu over 100 yuan. I wasn’t to be outdone—I sent her five gold cat food gifts.)

Baiyu gasped in delight at the sudden tip: "Thanks to ‘My Beloved Father’ for five gold cat food gifts…"

She froze mid-sentence, then pouted unhappily.

"Don’t take advantage of me!"

Her expression was so adorable, my heart melted completely.

After chatting briefly, viewers asked about her outfit—a shimmering silver gown that looked elegant and regal. She stood, twirled with a flourish of her skirt, and announced: "This is Elisa’s look from the spin-off *Midnight Memoirs*, part of Teacher Chidori’s *Midnight Record Book* series."

I had indeed written that spin-off. It covered Elisa’s life before meeting the male lead, Lin Zheng—when she was still a noblewoman dabbling in detective work, before tragedy struck. Unlike the main series, this Elisa was cheerful and optimistic.

"Does it look good?" she asked like a girl showing off her favorite teddy bear, eager for praise. "Is my cosplay accurate?"

Most comments praised her, but dissenting voices appeared:

"Huh, I’ve read *Midnight* too—Elisa didn’t look like this in *Midnight Memoirs*."

"Yeah, she’s no ordinary lady. Why wear something so fancy?"

"It should be practical for action! In *Memoirs*, she’s a restless noblewoman!"

Unlike earlier jokes, Baiyu genuinely flared up at the criticism. "Have you even read the original?! This *is* Elisa’s design—yes, yes, YES!"

She argued like a spoiled child—or a rabid fan—face flushed as she debated her own fans over another creator’s work.

I worried this might backfire, but most chatters defended her. The dissenters left, yet Baiyu remained pouting. She announced to the stream: "I’m going to eat now. I’ll be back later tonight."

After she closed the stream, I exited Doumao. As the original author, I held the final say on that debate. Though I’d unconditionally side with Baiyu as her father, this time I disagreed with her take on my work. Those critical comments were fair, if slightly off. To me, Elisa—whether in main story or spin-off—always cherished one unchanging trait: her thirst for truth. Baiyu’s cosplay outfits were lovely, but Elisa wouldn’t crave flashy clothes.

What a headache. Should I talk to her about it?

Just then, Baiyu came downstairs. She glanced at the empty dining room, frowned, and walked over to kick my knee lightly.

"Food."

"Ah, I’ll make it right away!"

I’d lost track of time watching her stream. I jumped up from the sofa and dashed into the kitchen.