The Children's Energy
The first Sunday of December.
On any other day I would have slept in late with Luca and spent the whole day taking it easy together, but today we were already on the move from early morning, heading for Oliver Fletcher's studio.
Luca, of course, was sound asleep in the back seat.
"Sorry for making you come out on a Sunday, Cassandra."
"It's fine. Celebrities work weekends just like weekdays, right?"
I knew there was no point insisting I wasn't a celebrity, so I changed the subject.
"Still, it must be a relief you can leave Charlie at home now."
Before, if Cassandra had to come out on a weekend she always had to leave Charlie with a neighbor. Now that Dimitri and the girls were around, there didn't seem to be a single thing to worry about.
"Exactly. Once you have that fence called family, you get a peace of mind you never had when it was just the two of us."
That change showed clearly on her social media too. Cassandra had already posted quite a bit about everyday life with her two new daughters—doing makeup together, painting each other's nails, the kind of small, ordinary moments a mother and daughters who genuinely get along like friends would share. It was hard to believe this was the same person who had once been put on probation for uploading inflammatory protest videos.
"Doesn't Charlie get jealous that Mom's getting along so well with his new sisters?"
Cassandra snorted.
"Jealous? Charlie and Dimitri get along so well he doesn't even look for me anymore. The games I used to nag him not to play, they play together, and he has a dad who'll actually go watch basketball with him. I think he likes that."
"Dimitri must be happy too. From what I've heard, the girls wouldn't do those kinds of things with him."
"Yeah. Honestly… I used to worry that as Charlie got older he'd start feeling the empty space where a dad should be, but that's one less thing on my mind now."
Cassandra said she finally felt settled, as if the second act of her life had opened. It made me happy that it wasn't just me—the people around me were finding their footing too.
I watched the unfamiliar scenery slide past for a moment, then we started talking about the shoot that day.
"It's an unboxing video recommending baby products and family gifts. Why specifically ask me for a collab stream?"
If the products were sponsored, people would search for them on their own; views would be guaranteed even without a guest.
"Just unboxing guarantees views, sure, but then there's no difference between him and every other similar YouTuber. Maybe he wants to give people a little more to watch?"
Then Cassandra added that Oliver Fletcher might be playing a clever game.
"As the owner of a channel that gets mentioned in the same breath as yours, he might also want to show who's on top. Especially since he's older."
"No way."
His channel had far more subscribers and had been around much longer than ours.
"Don't be so naive, Jun. I looked him up—Fletcher took quite a long time to build that subscriber count. So he'll be thinking the same way I do. No—he's been at this much longer, so he knows even better. The Jun who hit five hundred thousand so fast is definitely going to catch up to the eight-hundred-thousand range before long."
"Hmm…"
Hearing it put that way, she had a point. If some newcomer were about to race right up to the subscriber count I'd spent years gathering, even I would feel a sense of crisis.
"Since it doesn't seem real to you yet, let me spell it out, Jun. Starting a YouTube channel and reaching this many subscribers in no time, then opening a studio with three employees—that is not easy. You're really something."
Was I? When Cassandra said it with that much conviction, it almost felt true.
"Luck just lined up in a lot of places, that's all."
"Luck is skill too, Jun."
The craft videos I made with the Manito App's help kept pulling steady views. The kids' shorts had exploded in popularity and sent the subscriber count soaring; then, while working on the recipe book, I'd ended up on screen with Vanessa, a famous influencer. After that, the wedding-dress footage from Cassandra's wedding video—filed under the "friends" category—had pulled in another big wave of new viewers. Greg's playlist videos were popular too, which in turn was boosting the views on all the Lemon Soup Pub clips.
Talking about one thing and another, time slipped by. Right on cue, the navigation announced we were almost there.
An hour and a half had seemed a little far at first, but then again, it was strange and wonderful that another parenting YouTuber lived this close.
"How did Oliver Fletcher even know I live nearby?"
"He might have known about Lemon Soup Pub, or maybe he knew Vanessa lives around here."
"Now that you mention it… that is a little worrying."
If any of our subscribers lived nearby, figuring out where we lived wouldn't be that hard. If the channel got even bigger, we might have to move someday.
"Still, Jun's villa is in Old Town, where the security is good. There's always a guard on the first floor, right?"
"Yeah—management office and guard post together."
It was a quiet neighborhood where people knew their neighbors by sight, so it was relatively safe.
The car left the highway and rolled into a peaceful residential area. It was nothing like the commercial district I'd been picturing.
"…It's a neighborhood of houses. Was the studio his actual home?"
"No—I understand he rents a regular house just for filming. As a parenting YouTuber, a home-like set probably feels better."
"Ah, that actually sounds like a smart idea. Is it that house with all the cars parked out front?"
"The address is… yes, that's it. You really couldn't tell it's a studio just from looking at it."
We parked out front and sent a message. A moment later an employee with a camera and Oliver himself came out to greet us.
So we were jumping straight into the shoot with no prior meeting?
I climbed out of the car with the still half-asleep child in my arms.
"Jun, welcome!"
Oliver Fletcher shook my hand as if we were already old friends. Vanessa had been the same—Oliver's voice was much louder in person than it ever was on video. Maybe it only felt that way because I couldn't turn the volume down myself. From the very first second it felt like my energy was being siphoned off, but still. Remembering Cassandra's advice not to lose the momentum, I squared my shoulders and shook his hand firmly.
"Hello. Thank you for inviting me."
"Ah, and this is…?"
After the handshake Oliver looked at Cassandra climbing out of the driver's seat.
"Cassandra—she's part of our studio family."
Oliver gave Cassandra the same warm smile, shook her hand, and exchanged greetings.
"And this little panda doll—is this Jun's second?"
Once the introductions were done, Oliver pointed at the panda ears on the hood of Luca's pajamas. Even with a thick padded coat over the pajamas and a hat on top, the panda ears kept knocking the hat askew.
"Yes. He's still not fully awake."
"I see. Ah—right, it's cold out. Come on in!"
Following Oliver inside, we found the house decorated like a Christmas movie set—or a Christmas home-shopping studio. Christmas garlands draped the staircase; Christmas lights ran the full length of the hallway. A huge Christmas tree stood beside a roaring fireplace, and beneath it gift boxes were piled high as a mountain. Every single one was wrapped in oversized ribbons and glossy paper that looked like something off the internet; I figured those had to be the sponsored products for today.
And on the mantel sat photos of the children—alongside a YouTube Silver Button.
"…"
One fact flashed through my mind: our channel still hadn't applied for the Silver Button. I'd kept putting the application off while debating the name change from Jun's Workshop to Jun's Life, and then I'd simply forgotten. Without meaning to I glanced at Cassandra; she seemed to have just remembered the same thing. While the two of us were quietly thrown by the unexpected reminder, Oliver guided us to the sofa and shouted toward the upstairs.
"Shirley! Max! Guests are here—come down!"
Thump-thump-thump-thump…!
A racket of footsteps thundered down from the second floor. A moment later a girl who looked about six or seven and a boy roughly two years younger came flying down the stairs. They were dressed so neatly they could have walked straight onto a children's clothing catalog shoot, hair perfectly set, and the second they spotted Luca they pointed and yelled.
"Wow, a baby! How old are you?"
"Baby panda!"
Loud voices seemed to run in the family. The noise was enough that Luca, still half asleep, popped his eyes wide open. He lifted his head and looked around as if asking, Where am I?, so I introduced Shirley and Max to him.
"Baby, we're visiting a friend's house. This is big sister Shirley and big brother Max."
When I turned Luca's face toward the children, Shirley and Max practically shouted.
"Waaah! He's so cute!"
"Blond panda!"
The kids were lively… or, to be honest, completely hyper, bouncing and jumping with pure excitement. Oliver tried to rein them in, but it did almost nothing.
"…"
Oliver's children were thrilled. Our Luca, on the other hand, looked thoroughly unimpressed. It was probably because two kids he'd never met were yelling right at him. Charlie and Reni always spoke to Luca in soft voices; even when they were having the best time, they never shouted. Luca turned his head away as if none of this concerned him and rested it on my shoulder.
"I think the baby doesn't like us."
The children looked a little hurt. I smiled gently at them.
"It's a new place with new people—that's probably why. He's still a bit shy with strangers."
The moment I finished, Max asked right out.
"What's 'shy with strangers'?"
"It means finding it hard to deal with people you're meeting for the first time."
"Really? This one doesn't look like he's having a hard time—he looks like he hates us! Baby, do you hate us?"
Max circled behind the sofa and started talking to Luca again. Shirley stared straight at me, then asked,
"But why is uncle the baby's dad? You're Asian. Are you really the dad?"
At that, Oliver used a stern voice.
"Shirley, I explained earlier. Mr. Jun is the baby's godfather."
"Aha! But Dad could be wrong!"
Wow. So once they hit around ten, kids actually talk to their fathers like that. Oliver raised a big hand and covered his eyes; while I was still reeling inside, Shirley asked another question out of nowhere.
"But are godfathers always different races?"
"Huh?"
I looked at Oliver, wondering what on earth that meant. He answered with the expression of a man already developing a headache.
"My friend who's their godfather is Black, so she got that idea."
"Ah. I see."
A thoroughly childlike notion—cute, if you wanted to call it cute. And there was something else funny, too: the same Oliver who'd been bursting with energy a minute ago already looked completely drained now that two excited kids were tearing around. Maybe the only thing that can beat a small human is a smaller animal.
From behind the sofa came Max's mutter.
"I think the baby is cursing me with his eyes."
Before I could turn around and answer, Shirley shoved her face right up to mine.
"But uncle, why did you come to our hideout?"
So the kids thought of the studio as their hideout.
"Uncle Jun came to do a gift unboxing with Dad today—I told you that yesterday."
Shirley answered in her usual loud voice, a mischievous grin on her face.
"Dad could have been lying!"
At the same moment, Max's voice rose, close to tears.
"The baby cursed at me!"