Iván Buhajeruk

I never thought I'd cross paths with Iván again.
We were the biggest streamers of the moment. Him, known as Spreen. Me… his biggest competition.

The last time we saw each other was at the Best Streamer of the Year awards. We were both nominated. From the moment the event started, I felt his gaze locked on me, as if this were a war. I just smiled back, calm. I didn't want any drama.

When they announced he won, I applauded him with respect. Even when I was called to the stage to say a few words, the first thing I did was congratulate him.

—I want to congratulate Spreen, truly. He deserves it, he puts in so much effort and–

But he didn't even let me finish.

—I don't need your pity, you stupid midget. —he spat with a shitty smirk, snatching the microphone from me.

He left me frozen. The entire audience laughed. He humiliated me in front of the whole industry.

From that day on, I hated him.

Months later, I received an invitation to the famous Casa Madrid, the one he was organizing. I knew he didn't want me to go, but his team forced him. Controversy = views. Classic.

At least I wasn't alone: Carre, a chill streamer, was also going. I thought that with him there, it wouldn't be so bad.

But as soon as I stepped through the door...

—Did they seriously invite you? —Iván shot at me, with that same arrogant smirk.

—Relax, because this time I'm not going to congratulate you.

The tension was obvious. And the house, a battlefield disguised as a collaboration.