Author: Momo Chan

After successfully redeeming the yandere male lead, I said my goodbyes. “I have to go now,” I told him. “You’ll meet the heroine who is destined to love you. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Eric lowered his gaze, silent. Confused, I chose to exit the world. The next day, I was sprawled on my bed, engrossed in a round of Goose Guard. Suddenly, a shriek ripped through my mind. [MALE LEAD’S CORRUPTION LEVEL HAS MAXED OUT. PLEASE PROCEED TO SECONDARY REDEMPTION.] I was thrown back into the pocket world. Only to discover that ten years had passed. The once-gentle prince had become a blood-soaked tyrant. The moment before I appeared, he was wiping his dripping sword, a faint smile on his lips. “Her face,” he murmured. “You think you’re worthy of wearing it?” 1 When I materialized back in the pocket world, I was still clutching my little pot of cake. I stared, momentarily stunned by the architecture around me—so familiar, yet strangely foreign. “How am I back here?” [Host, there has been an unforeseen complication with your previous mission. Your intervention is required.] Hearing the System’s voice, a wave of relief washed over me. So, it was just a mission glitch that needed fixing. That scared the life out of me. I thought the System had bugged out, sending me home for a day only to yank me back again. I dug my spoon into the little cake pot. The cream was sweet and heavenly. I started walking through the palace, a place I could navigate with my eyes closed, heading towards Eric’s old quarters. Since I was back, I might as well go see him. I’d even let him try my cake. It was a White Peach Oolong flavor, absolutely divine! He was a man of an older time; he’d never tasted anything like it. I snapped the lid back on the container and ambled down the long, winding palace corridor. Ugh, I was so close to winning that round of Goose Guard. It was all Eric’s fault. Of all the times to have a psychotic break, he had to pick the exact moment I was about to corner the last goose. Now, the goose was free, and I was the one who got caught. I’m so mad. When I see him, I’m only giving him one tiny bite. Just a taste. Then I’m going to eat the rest of it right in front of him. That’ll teach him. Speaking of Eric, though… Why did he snap? 2 The System offered no answers. I reached the palace wing where Eric and I had once lived together, only to find it deserted, save for a few maids listlessly sweeping and dusting. In the courtyard, the apricot tree we’d planted together was in full, glorious bloom. A spring breeze rustled through its branches, shedding white blossoms like a flurry of snow, dusting my hair and shoulders. A sudden, jarring realization hit me. When had this apricot tree grown so large? The thought had barely formed when the System’s voice echoed in my head. [Host, the flow of time in this world is different from yours. Ten years have passed since your departure.] Ten years. No wonder the place felt so cold and empty. Eric was long gone from here, wasn’t he? I hurried over to one of the maids, wanting to ask where Eric was now. But the moment she turned and saw my face, her eyes widened in terror. “Do you know—” Before I could finish, she let out a piercing scream. “Assassin! Seize the assassin!” What?! “Wait, I’m not—” She wasn’t listening. Tossing her broom aside, she lunged, grabbing me with a strength that belied her station. During my last mission, I was technically a maid too, but I’d never lifted a finger. I’d cleverly delegated all my chores to Eric, spending my days goofing off. In reality, my noodle-armed college student body, which had barely passed gym class, was no match for a maid accustomed to hard labor. In a matter of seconds, she had me pinned. I clutched my little cake pot pathetically. “I’m really not an assassin! I’m here to find Eric. Can you please just take me to him?” The maid’s eyes narrowed. “You wish to see His Majesty?” His Majesty? So it was Eric. I’d left when he was still the Crown Prince, the old king’s health long failing. After ten years, it made sense he’d ascended the throne. My eyes lit up. “Yes! I want to see His Majesty!” She called over another maid from inside the hall. The two of them bound my hands and, flanking me like a pair of grim sentinels, marched me away. 3 The journey was dreadfully boring. I tried to make small talk. “So, how long has Eric been on the throne?” The maids ignored me. According to the original plot, he was supposed to meet, fall in love with, and marry the General’s daughter, becoming the empire’s most envied and loving royal couple. But the pocket world had glitched. Eric’s mother was executed in a witchcraft scandal, and the entire storyline veered off course. He became a forgotten, pitiable child. A prince who was supposed to be a beacon of light and honor became far more terrifying when he embraced the darkness. That’s when the System sent me in, tasked with redeeming him before his corruption was complete. Mission accomplished, plot set back on track. He was supposed to go on to meet his true heroine and live a life of love and devotion with her. And I was supposed to go back to my miserable life of a college student facing five 8 AM lectures a week. A wave of sorrow washed over me at the thought. He gets to fall in love, and I get to suffer through early morning classes. My life is so tragic. I wanted a bite of my cake to console myself. But my hands were tied. I couldn’t reach it. Sob. My life is even more tragic. 4 The two maids remained stubbornly silent. I followed them, and when I walked too slowly, they’d prod me to hurry up. Stop prodding me! Don’t you know how huge this palace is? A frail college student like me could literally die from all this walking! Just before I did, in fact, die, we finally arrived. The maids handed me off to a head maid, whose uniform indicated a higher rank. Her gaze swept over my arms and legs, a look of understanding and disdain flickering in her eyes. “Well, at least you came prepared.” What?! It was only then that I remembered what I was wearing: my nightgown. A sleep dress with a built-in shelf bra. Back home, it was the comfiest thing for lounging around. But here, in this antiquated world, my attire was scandalous enough for the bedchamber, let alone public display. I opened my mouth to explain, but the next second, she seized my chin. The thing is, I’m taller than her. I’m 5’6″, and the head maid looked to be about 5’3″. Her trying to grab me by the neck was slightly comical. She shot a look to her subordinates, and fearing they might force me down, I voluntarily lowered myself to her level so she could get a better look. I even blinked a few times for good measure. See? I’m being good. No need to tie me up again. The satisfaction in her eyes deepened. “Her temperament is a match, too. His Majesty will be most pleased this time.” She released me and moved behind my back. The ropes binding my wrists were cut. The next moment, the grand doors to the hall swung open. I was shoved inside. 5 Though it was broad daylight, the hall was steeped in a deep, oppressive gloom. I’d noticed on the way here that the maids were leading me to a remote, secluded part of the palace. Now, thrown inside, I saw why. The windows were all covered with thick, black paper. Only a single candle seemed to burn somewhere in the inner chambers, casting a crimson glow that pulsed outwards. Faintly, I could hear the sound of a woman crying. Even with the windows sealed, a phantom chill snaked across my skin, raising goosebumps. I clutched my White Peach Oolong cake and tiptoed deeper into the darkness. The closer I got to the inner sanctum, the louder the woman’s sobs became. Now I could make out her moans and pleas. “Your Majesty, no more…” “Please, Your Majesty, I can’t eat another bite…” At the same time, I heard another sound—the soft, rhythmic dripping of liquid hitting the floor. I froze. I’ve read enough dark romance novels. A woman’s pleas, the sound of dripping liquid… combined, they could only mean one thing. My mind plunged straight into the gutter. Oh God, I’m so corrupted. But why would they throw me in here? The System said the male lead had gone dark. Did that mean he was no longer faithful to the heroine, that he’d started a harem and one woman at a time wasn’t enough for him? Panicked, I screamed for the System in my mind, frantically calling it. It took several seconds to respond, as if it had crashed. [That is not the case.] [Host, I cannot speak freely when in proximity to the male lead.] [As for the specific circumstances, you will understand if you proceed further.] [This world is on the verge of collapse. Only you can save it.] [Good luck.] With those final words, the System went completely offline. No matter how many times I called, it didn’t respond. I’m screwed. I am so, so screwed. What do I do now?! I took a deep breath, trying to quell the frantic pounding of my heart, only to realize that the sounds from the inner chamber had stopped. The woman’s voice was gone. Only the dripping remained. Drip… Drip… Drip… Like a faucet that hadn’t been turned off all the way. I knew there was danger ahead. I knew the smart thing to do was hide. But curiosity kills the cat. I couldn’t stop myself. I crept forward, peeking around the final folding screen. At the center of my vision was a single, burning red candle. In front of it sat a platter piled high with honey cakes. The surrounding walls were plastered with all sorts of talismans, covered in arcane symbols I couldn’t decipher. What I could see, with horrifying clarity, was the woman lying on the floor at the twelve o’clock position. Her mouth was stuffed full of honey cakes. Her throat had been slit. Blood seeped from the wound. Drip— Drip— A stream of crimson flowed toward the red candle. As it touched the base, the flame flared violently. My heart stopped. That was the dripping sound I’d heard. I held my breath, my limbs turning to lead. The scene was ripped straight from the goriest horror movies I’d ever watched. It was one thing to see it on a screen, but to be here, in the flesh… I could hear the whisper of the wind rustling the paper talismans and the sickening, steady drip of blood. The air was thick with the cloying, sweet scent of blood mixed with the fragrance of honey, a combination that made my stomach churn. But the most terrifying part? There was someone else in the hall. And he wasn’t in the inner chamber. In the next instant, I felt the cold, hard press of a blade against my neck. Its sharp edge was still slick with the blood of the last victim. In that moment, the gleam of the sword reflected my own ashen face. From directly behind me, a man’s soft chuckle reached my ears. His voice, low and gentle, curled around me as his warm breath ghosted against my ear. “Caught you, little mouse.” 6 My entire body went rigid. The blood in my veins felt like it had frozen solid. “I…” I tried to speak, but only a single, strangled sound escaped. The words were trapped in my throat. Or maybe, there was simply nothing I could say. I knew Eric was no saint. From the very beginning, he’d never bothered to hide his malice. When the System first brought me to this world, I didn’t have a body to inhabit. It had to expend its energy to create one for me. Because the plot had deviated and the world was at risk of collapse, its power was limited. It ended up making a miniature version of me, based on my data. I remember crouching by a small puddle, looking at my reflection. My face was chubby and round, utterly pinchable. I held up my hands; they were chubby and pinchable too. “How old am I?” I’d asked the System. [Six years old.] The male lead was seven, I was six. Close enough in age. All I had to do was stay by his side and guide him away from the path of darkness. Simple enough. Gazing at my reflection, I gave my cheek a squeeze. I was so cute when I was six! Who could possibly resist this level of adorable? Full of confidence, I ran to the desolate palace wing where Eric lived. I tried to push the main gate open. It wouldn’t budge. I was too small. I tried to climb the wall. I couldn’t get a grip. I was too small. This was infuriating! Finally, I squeezed through a crumbling hole in the wall. Panting, I brushed the weeds and dirt from my hair. And my eyes met a pair of. A pair of pitch-black eyes. He was holding a shard of metal, its edge stained with blood. The smell of rust and blood were so similar, I couldn’t tell which was which. All I could see was seven-year-old Eric, standing in a corner of the neglected courtyard. At his feet lay the body of a maid. Her throat had been slashed open. Her head was lolled to the side, her bloodshot eyes wide open, staring blankly towards the hole in the wall. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. “You… you killed her!” Little Eric brushed the metal shard against my cheek, using its sharp tip to flick away a piece of dry grass from beside my ear. He smiled at me. “Another little mouse has arrived.”

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Right before my promotion match, my online boyfriend got called away for “training.” I put on my sweetest voice, practically purring into the mic. “Good luck with your scrimmage, babe! I’m going to head to bed. Don’t forget to miss me~” Hilarious. He’s really getting into this ‘pro gamer’ act. My online boyfriend reluctantly left the game lobby. The moment he was gone, I turned around and hired four top-ranked players. “Don’t worry, I’m a god-tier jungler. A win is guaranteed.” “Hey, hey, what song do you wanna hear? I can sing for you to pass the time.” “Just stick with me, I’ll protect you.” I was blissfully soaking in the attention, surrounded by my personal entourage. The next second, my mid-laner spoke up, confused. “Hey, uh… why do you have a couple’s icon with the enemy jungler?” I glanced at the enemy jungler’s ID, which looked terrifyingly familiar, and immediately swiped the game off my screen in a panic. 1 The enemy jungler, ID name [HardCandy], had appeared in my line of sight completely out of the blue, sporting a level 52 couple’s icon with me. My mid-laner pressed, “Hey, do you know the enemy jungler?” The top-laner chimed in, clearly enjoying the drama. “Of course she does. One’s GummyBear, the other’s HardCandy, and they have the couple’s icon. Tsk, tsk.” The ADC’s tone was laced with insinuation. “You’re playing with the four of us… won’t your boyfriend get mad?” A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. I frantically swiped the game away. A new message popped up on my phone. AAA Gaming God: [Babe, are you asleep?] Guiltily, I dismissed the notification. AAA Gaming God: [Did you lend your account to someone? Should I go easy on them?] A lightbulb went off in my head! I immediately logged back into the game. “Sorry, guys, my connection dropped.” “And no, I don’t know him.” Seeing I hadn’t replied to his text, Aidan tried the in-game chat. HardCandy: [Is that you?] I typed back without missing a beat. GummyBear: [Hi, I’m the account owner’s friend.] Aidan went silent. He must have bought it! But then, a prickle of annoyance surfaced. What happened to his “scrimmage”? Here I was, catching him red-handed playing a ranked match in the game. Liar! I couldn’t resist testing him. [The account owner told me you’re a pro player?] HardCandy: [I am.] Hilarious. Keep up the act. [Then don’t you guys have scrims to play?] His teammate jumped in. [Miss, we’re in a five-stack with our team.] Wow, they were really committed to the bit, even had backup actors. I hopped onto my jungler’s character. “Kai, take them down!” “As you command, my queen!” Kai replied. The next second, both Kai and I were mercilessly slaughtered by Aidan and sent straight back to our base fountain. The voice chat went dead silent. The ADC who loved to sing was quiet now, huddled under our turret, whispering, “Uh, this enemy team seems… kinda strong.” The jungler who’d sworn to carry us sounded strained. “Don’t worry, if we lose, I’ll pay you back double…” I watched as my team of top-ranked pros got absolutely demolished by HardCandy. I couldn’t take it anymore. This was my promotion match! “You guys, get over here, now!” I led my ADC and jungler to hide in the brush where Aidan always liked to lurk after taking down the main boss monster. Sure enough, after securing the objective, he headed straight for our hiding spot. Kai, with me on his back, unleashed his full combo. The ADC followed up with a barrage of damage. But Aidan’s reflexes were insane. He escaped with a sliver of health. HardCandy: [?] My teammates thought he was taunting them. Only I felt a sudden jolt of terror. Did he figure me out? I didn’t dare make another move. I just clung to my teammates like a scared limpet. Soon, all three of our high-ground towers were gone. One more push, and my promotion match would be lost. I gritted my teeth and decided to take a gamble. “They’ll probably go for both boss monsters. The jungler is likely at the top one with his support. Let’s sneak over.” This was Aidan’s usual strategy when he played with me. The four of us crept towards the top lane. And there he was. Aidan, taking on the boss monster all by himself. We were ecstatic. If we could just rush in, take him out, and steal the objective, we could turn this whole game around. Just as we were about to pounce, four beefy dudes leaped out of a nearby bush. They wiped out my entire team, sending them all back to the fountain. Aidan stopped attacking the monster and walked over to stand in front of my character. HardCandy: [Molly. Talk.] HardCandy: [Stop pretending. I know it’s you.] I clenched my jaw and played dead. [I told you, I’m not her. Let’s just start the next game. Stop wasting time.] Just my luck! I refuse to believe I’ll run into you guys again next match! To my horror, Aidan walked past me and positioned himself and his team in front of my base’s main crystal. My teammates were about to respawn. I quickly recalled to base. I jumped onto my ADC to help him clear the incoming wave of enemy minions. Aidan charged in, killed the ADC in a flash, but left me untouched. I turned and jumped onto my jungler. The jungler was sent back to the fountain. Our mid-laner couldn’t believe it. “Their four teammates aren’t even moving! They’re looking down on us!” “Come on, get on me, I want to see—” Before he could finish, he was also back at the fountain. The top-laner, guarding his 1-5 score, kept his distance from me. “Hey, this is my main account, these ugly stats are bad for my image…” “Please, just go talk to your boyfriend, ask him to let us go…” HardCandy stood before me, his massive virtual sword gleaming. [Talk.] Their super minions were bigger than my character. They chipped away at my fragile crystal, one blow at a time. I stood beside it, small, helpless, and pathetic. Aidan and I were locked in a silent standoff. The super minions did their work. After the crystal exploded, I logged out, my mind a chaotic mess. On my phone, messages from Aidan kept popping up. [Why did you lie to me? Didn’t you say you were going to sleep? Why were you playing with so many other guys?] [Did I do something wrong? Is there something I’m not giving you?] The image of him making me stand alone, facing him as my world crumbled, flashed in my mind. A wave of indignation surged in my throat. [I hate you! We’re breaking up!] He was the one who lied about being a pro player, the one who lied about having a scrimmage and bailed on my promotion match. And now he was acting like I was the one who betrayed him! I blocked him. Staring at the game icon, I felt nothing but irritation. I deleted it. Out of sight, out of mind. 2 Half a month drifted by in a state of listless boredom. I couldn’t even bring myself to open my drawing tablet. Sometimes, my fingers would itch to play a game, but then I’d remember my newly ex-online-boyfriend, and my chest would feel hollow. In the end, I never logged on. I’d scroll across a funny video, hit share, and then the chat interface would pop up. Seeing his name missing from the top of my list, I’d remember we had broken up, and a sharp pang would hit my chest. I guess this is what online relationships are like. Once you leave the game, leave the chat app, you just disappear back into the vast sea of people. Maybe one day we’d pass each other on the street and not even know it. On nights when I missed him terribly, the thought of adding him back would cross my mind. But then I’d think of all the lies between us, and I’d let it go. It was a relationship that wasn’t real and had no future. Better to cut my losses now. Then, out of the blue, my super-busy older sister contacted me. She’d been off in the mountains filming for the better part of a year and had finally made a rare trip home. “Molly, honey, can I borrow your game account?” “What for?” I asked, completely devoid of energy. Isabelle was meticulously primping every single strand of hair. “There’s a gaming event tomorrow. Your account has all the cool skins, right?” “Lend it to your big sis for a bit.” “I’m going to absolutely humiliate Serena at the event.” Serena. My sister’s arch-nemesis in the entertainment industry. Those two competed over everything, everywhere they went. From high-end jewelry to red-carpet gowns. They were locked in a bitter battle for the title of the industry’s most beautiful goddess. And now, apparently, their rivalry had spilled over into the gaming world. My sister added in a hushed whisper, “Besides, I got chat-banned a few days ago for flaming someone.” “I can’t let Serena find out.” “She’ll never let me hear the end of it.” … I was speechless. I’d witnessed my sister’s combat prowess before. She once used a voice changer to flame some blame-shifting teammate so hard they burst into tears and rage-quit on the spot. I wasn’t the least bit surprised she’d gotten chat-banned. I waved a dismissive hand. “Take it.” I hadn’t been online in ages anyway. I figured Aidan had probably already deleted me from his friends’ list. It took so much shameless persistence on my part to get him to add me in the first place. After I dumped him so suddenly and bizarrely, he must have deleted me in a heartbeat. It was a shame about our couple’s icon, though. We’d spent a fortune on virtual flowers to get it to level 52. 3 On the day of the event, I was watching the livestream out of sheer boredom. The host was introducing the guests on stage. The camera panned across them one by one. When it paused on the second player, my eyes lit up. Wow, he’s handsome! How could the pro-gaming scene have someone that good-looking? He could easily make it in the entertainment world. The host’s voice boomed, “Let’s give a warm welcome to our pro player, Anki!” The guy looked into the camera, his thin lips curved into a faint smile, the corners of his long, narrow eyes lifting. “Hello, everyone. I’m back.” The cheers from the audience instantly grew louder. The live chat exploded. “After more than half a year, Anki is finally returning to the competitive stage for the upcoming Spring Season.” “Let’s look forward to his incredible performance!” The chat was flooded with fans screaming “hubby.” I watched the fan frenzy with great interest. [OMG, ANKI! HE’S BACK! HE’S FINALLY BACK!] [Fans, don’t get too excited. He hasn’t played a competitive match in over six months. Who knows if he’s still good enough for the main roster.] [Haters, pipe down. You don’t need to worry about your daddy’s skills.] [HUBBY! I’D LICK THE SCREEN!] [THOSE ABS ARE SO DEFINED I WANNA BITE THEM!] No wonder. So he’d been off the scene for half a year. That explained it. When I first met Aidan and he’d bragged about being a pro player, I went to check the official rosters. I scrolled through every single player’s photo and never saw the name Aidan. And I certainly never saw a face that handsome and authoritative. So, I decided to brag too. I told him I was a famous actress. A relationship built on lies was doomed from the start. But from this moment on, I would forget the sorrow Aidan brought me and transform into a new fangirl for this handsome stranger. Before the exhibition match, my sister was showing off the Nine-Tailed Fox skin that I had spent over a hundred dollars trying to get, only for Aidan to gift it to me in the end. “This skin is so beautiful, isn’t it? I feel more powerful just wearing it.” Serena stared at her own grayed-out skin collection, forcing a smile. “Oh, I was just too busy filming back then, didn’t have time to try for it.” “I’ll definitely get it the next time it’s available.” My sister smiled sweetly. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wear it for now.” Both teams entered the loading screen. The host began, “We’re looking forward to the first match between…” The host’s voice trailed off. The director’s camera feed froze suspiciously. The live chat came to a standstill. I looked up at the livestream, and my world shook. Dude, your name is HardCandy too? Holy crap, why is there a couple’s icon?! The chat went insane: [ANKI AND ISABELLE?!] [SOMEONE PLEASE SLAP ME AWAKE.] [I think I drank too much soda and I’m drunk. I’m just gonna go for a walk.] [Matching couple IDs, a level 52 couple’s icon…] [Where are my fellow wifeys at? Let’s have a group cry.] 4 I was dumbfounded. The director immediately cut the camera away. The host cleared his throat and changed the subject. On screen, Aidan was staring daggers at his phone. Then he turned his head to look at my sister. Isabelle slowly turned her head and looked at Aidan. Their eyes met for a fleeting second before they both looked away. [DO YOU TWO HAVE TO BE SO OBVIOUS ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP?!] [And Anki, didn’t you disappear for half a year to deal with ‘family issues’?] [Did he go home for an arranged marriage?] On the other side, Serena’s eyes darted back and forth between Isabelle and Aidan. I quietly opened Anki’s fan forum and posted a question. A helpful netizen quickly answered: [Anki, real name Aidan Cross. Led his team WG to victory in last year’s Spring Championship, then took a temporary leave for personal reasons.] [Sis, have you fallen for him too?] [OMG, your art is gorgeous! Can I commission a drawing of Anki with his abs showing?] My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. When I downloaded the game, he was already on leave. No wonder I couldn’t find him on the official rosters. Which meant… He really was a pro player. But I wasn’t a real actress… On the stream, the match had begun. Even in an exhibition match, it was obvious to anyone with eyes how protective the jungler was of his mid-laner. If even two enemies went missing from the mid-lane, he would rush over and hide in a bush, never letting his mid-laner get ganked alone. He was playing a hyper-carry jungler, but he’d still whittle down the blue buff’s health to a sliver for his mid-laner, then silently invade the enemy’s jungle to steal theirs. My sister, playing the mid-laner, tried to refuse the buff, but Aidan just stood there beside it, unmoving. With a sigh, she finally took it with a basic attack. The chat exploded with fans shipping them. But my heart felt incredibly sour. I was the one who initiated the breakup. Besides, it was an online relationship with no future. Who he dated next was none of my business. But he clearly still cared about “GummyBear.” Even though it wasn’t me using the account anymore. And my sister’s celebrity status perfectly matched his expectations for who “GummyBear” was. Aidan and my sister’s team won without any real suspense. I had no heart to watch any further. I listlessly turned off my phone and lay on my bed, playing dead. Not long after, my sister called. I forced a cheerful tone. “Hey sis, what’s up? Did you beat Serena?” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. My heartbeat began to quicken. My sister’s voice suddenly shot up several octaves. “Molly! How dare you have a secret online relationship behind my back?!” “You’ve got some serious nerve!”

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My boyfriend, William Hartwell, was suddenly involved in a car accident and rushed to the hospital. My classmates were busy donating money, but I acted as if nothing had happened. William’s sister found her way to campus, her eyes red-rimmed. “Sister Beth,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “our family isn’t well-off. Could you please release the money my brother saved with you over the years to help with the emergency?” I kept my expression neutral. “The money he saved? It’s long gone.” The girl’s tears flowed. “My brother’s monthly living expenses were $1500. He transferred $1200 to you every month, saving just $300 for himself. And that doesn’t even count the money from his part-time jobs. He borrowed money from me several times, begging me to keep it from our parents…” “You’re his girlfriend, can’t you help him when he’s in dire need?” Just then, William’s roommate stepped forward, corroborating the girl’s story. Yet, I maintained my stance: there was no money. Once William regained consciousness, he demanded a breakup, and everyone supported him. Facing their collective condemnation, I pulled out the transaction records from our two years together. 1 The girl’s T-shirt had frayed edges, clearly marking her as someone from a modest background. She swallowed hard, looking at me, and then spoke amidst the whispers of the gathered students. “Beth,” she began, her voice barely audible, “could you please release the money my brother kept with you? It’s needed urgently.” “Mom has borrowed everything she possibly could, but we’re still short…” “I know my brother has been putting money aside with you since the beginning of college.” I frowned, unmoved by her pitiable appearance. “The money he saved is already spent.” My face remained impassive, but the girl’s eyes immediately welled up. “Spent? How is that possible?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “My brother started dating you in his freshman year. That’s almost four years now. His $1500 monthly allowance? He transferred $1200 to you, leaving him with only $300 for meals.” “Not to mention his part-time jobs. All that money went into your shared ‘little piggy bank.’ That must be tens of thousands by now! How could it possibly be all gone?!” “There were times he was so broke he couldn’t afford to eat, and he had to borrow from me. He even made me promise not to tell our parents, which is how I know.” “Please, I know this is inappropriate and I haven’t even gotten my brother’s permission, but as his girlfriend, can’t you show a little compassion?” She hunched slightly, tugging at the hem of my shirt, tears pooling in her eyes. A heavy silence fell over the room. “Wait… I thought William was on a scholarship? I didn’t realize he had that much spending money!” “Yeah, he always seemed so frugal… I actually thought Beth was a good person, not like those other materialistic girls… So William’s money was all with Beth?” “Oh my gosh, I always assumed Beth came from a wealthy family! So she was just spending William’s hard-earned savings?” Gasps and incredulous murmurs rippled through the crowd. I shot a sharp look at them. “It’s just one person’s word against mine. What right do you have to speculate about me?” I turned back to the girl. “I told you, your brother has no money saved with me. Stop bothering me with this nonsense. Everyone has their own fate.” My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound of applause broke the stillness. Liam Davis, William’s roommate, clapped slowly, a look of pure mockery on his face. “Well said, ‘everyone has their own fate.’” “Others might not know, but we, his roommates, certainly do.” “I saw William transfer his money the moment he got his allowance every month. It was going to you, wasn’t it?” “Look at your clothes, your shoes – all designer labels. And William? To save money, he wears $10 fast-fashion shirts and shoes that are falling apart because he refuses to buy new ones!” “Now that he’s in trouble and needs money, you’re trying to wash your hands of him? Do you take us all for fools?” Liam’s words hit everyone like a physical blow, leaving them stunned. Unlike the tearful girl, Liam was our class representative. He was known for his diligence, responsibility, and gentle demeanor. No one had ever seen him this angry. His eyes were wide with fury. “Do you even know William got into that accident while rushing to a part-time job to buy you a birthday gift?” The classmates who had been wavering now firmly believed the accusations. “Damn, I never thought Beth could be this kind of person.” “How could she? Shouldn’t couples split expenses? She’s just too greedy!” Facing the chorus of accusations, I merely scoffed and walked out of the chaotic classroom. Little did I know, my phone would soon be flooded with messages. 2 Amidst the barrage of hateful messages, the first coherent one was from a close friend at the university. “Beth, you need to see this… check the gossip wall. What exactly is going on?” This friend usually paid no mind to campus drama, but her urging me to check the gossip wall indicated the severity of the situation. I opened my social media feed and quickly found the post that had gone viral. “We are Beth’s roommates. Acting on behalf of concerned parties, we are sharing these photos (attached).” “We find it incredibly difficult to believe that one of our own roommates could be so heartless, selfish, and greedy.” The nine photos displayed a collection of designer bags and exquisite gifts, each seemingly worth a fortune. They specifically highlighted a teddy bear charm: “We looked this up. It’s barely the size of a thumb and costs $800. Beth owns five of them.” “From what we understand, Beth’s family isn’t wealthy.” “So where the money for these luxury items comes from is obvious. We only learned the details today. William loved you and wanted to save together, and this is how you treated your shared assets?” “Especially now, when he’s in danger, and you remain indifferent. By exposing this, we want to make it clear we no longer want to be your roommates.” The post sparked a massive discussion. Someone explained the backstory, igniting further outrage among the students. “Damn, this girl is so selfish!” “Seriously, couples should never mix finances.” “God, how could he bear it? That guy is so thin, and she spends money so lavishly, like a parasite…” “This is terrifying. I’m afraid to date now, worried I’ll just be an ATM machine.” “It’s so easy for women to make money. If I were a woman dating ten guys, how rich would I be?” “She has money for $800 charms and $5000 bags, but not enough to treat her boyfriend when he’s hurt? Drowned in vanity.” “I heard her boyfriend got hurt because of her.” Compared to the private messages, the comment section seemed almost tame, filled mostly with sharp, critical remarks. The floodgates truly opened with the friend requests. The messages that couldn’t be explicitly stated, the ones that wouldn’t pass moderation, were replaced with homophones, synonyms, and thinly veiled insults, hurled at me like venom. People were quick to judge, fueled by hearsay rather than facts. Some guys were particularly vicious, completely embodying William’s role and rallying in righteous indignation, despite having no personal experience with the situation. When I returned to my dorm, I found my clothes and bags dumped on the floor, covered in dust. Some of my sheer blouses had new tears, and my handbag bore noticeable scratches. The three occupants of the room were engrossed in their phones and makeup, acting as if I didn’t exist. My expression hardened. “You’ve damaged my property. I can call the police.” Sarah, the one applying makeup, didn’t even glance away from her mirror. “Go ahead, call the cops. While you’re at it, maybe they can figure out where all your stuff actually comes from, whose money you spent. Let’s see who owes whom.” Her tone dripped with contempt, showing not a shred of guilt. Another roommate chimed in, “Heh. So that’s why you were always flaunting those new purchases. Turns out you were living off someone else’s hard-earned cash. No wonder you treat it so carelessly.” She drawled, kicking her legs up nonchalantly. The third roommate simply ignored me altogether. Seeing their brazen indifference, I stopped talking and walked straight to their closets. 3 I grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting their clothes. One by one. By the time the room descended into a chaotic mess of shredded fabric, they finally noticed my actions. “What the hell?! Are you crazy? What are you doing?” “Why are you touching my stuff?! That dress was saved up for a month! You pay for this!!!” “Holy crap, that’s my idol’s brand! I paid a fortune for that! You bitch!!” They lunged at me, claws out. I turned and fled the dorm, locking the door behind me. Unable to return to the dorm, I checked into a hotel near campus. Predictably, a call from my academic advisor summoned me to their office not long after. Upon arrival, I saw the three girls huddled in a corner, their faces filled with accusatory glares the moment they spotted me. The advisor tapped lightly on the desk, taking a sip of tea. Their eyes, magnified behind narrow glasses, scanned me with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. “Beth Hayes, is it? I know who you are.” “The one from Computer Science who loves dressing up. Hard to forget.” “But you need to understand, students come to university to learn, not to compare or to indulge in vanity.” “Regarding the damage to your roommates’ property, they have each itemized their losses.” “If you refuse to compensate them, then I can’t help but issue a major disciplinary mark on your record.” “This will significantly impact your eligibility for graduate studies and honors programs.” “As for the recent scandal making waves, I’ve heard about it. We can’t jump to conclusions, but I must remind you: you cannot act recklessly just because someone likes you.” “Beauty isn’t everything; kindness and consideration for others are what make a girl truly admirable. For that young man to treat you so well, and for you to act this way… it’s truly disheartening.” “It’s no wonder people increasingly criticize today’s women. People like you deserve it.” The words echoed in the empty office, drilling into my ears. I pursed my lips. “Do you believe everything you hear?” “As an advisor, you should at least strive for fairness. If this is just a one-sided accusation, then you can discipline me however you see fit. Why did you even call me here?” The advisor clearly didn’t appreciate my defiance. The teacup slammed onto the desk with a heavy thud. “Aren’t you quite wealthy? I’m now telling you to compensate for the damages within a specified timeframe, and to return William’s money to him. Otherwise, I’ll have to contact your parents to settle the debt.” “We have your parents’ phone numbers on file. If you’re not going to be sensible, we’ll have to involve someone who is.” Though seated, their ingrained air of authority projected a condescending threat. My expression remained placid. “Go ahead and contact them if you wish.” The advisor stared at me, their voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “Let me reiterate: a disciplinary mark will absolutely affect your graduate school prospects. Our university does not admit individuals with poor character like yours.” A knot tightened in my chest. They wouldn’t investigate, they wouldn’t seek the truth, they simply judged based on hearsay. I hadn’t expected this from a faculty member. I lowered my gaze. “Oh. Then let it affect it.” I turned and walked towards the door. If my efforts were to be erased because of this, then so be it. I didn’t want that opportunity anyway. 4 The university organized a donation drive for William. Afterward, we were all called to visit him. Only twenty students from our class were required to attend, but for some reason, I was included. Upon arrival, I understood. It wasn’t just students and faculty from our school; a popular online blogger was also present. They clearly wanted me there to manufacture public opinion. William had stabilized after treatment and was out of critical danger. He lay in bed, his gaze finding mine through the crowd. He had always been thin, practically skin and bones. His post-surgery, pale face made him look especially frail. Classmates approached him one by one, offering words of concern. William’s sister stood in a corner, her eyes burning with animosity and resentment as she looked at me. “Who invited you? I don’t want to see you.” She pointed at me, tears threatening to spill. The blogger, sensing fresh material, immediately swung the camera towards me. The classmates parted like the Red Sea, leaving a wide, empty space around me. William sighed, pulling his sister’s sleeve. “We need to break up.” He looked at me, his eyes utterly devoid of light. “William!” His sister stomped her foot in distress. “Even if you’re breaking up, shouldn’t she at least return your money? All the money you worked hard for and saved, why should she just spend it?” “Seeing her makes me sick! It’s your money, why should it be wasted on someone so heartless?” William looked conflicted, his gaze filled with disappointment. “I never expected you to be this kind of person, but we did love each other once.” “I don’t want to dwell on it. Just calculate the money, like my sister said. I don’t want it all, just half.” “I’ll give you a month to return it. Then we go our separate ways.” The classmates erupted in indignation. “Why only half? If she has to pay, she should pay it all! Do you still have feelings for someone like that?” “She just takes advantage of your kind heart, how you always doted on her. And this is how she repays you!” “May that gold-digger die a horrible death!” The blogger, meanwhile, was urging viewers in their livestream not to use foul language. Sarah, my roommate, gave me a shove. Off balance, I stumbled forward. “Calculate it properly!!” “Yeah! Calculate it!” The hateful voices grew louder. Seeing William’s performative struggle, I fought back the urge to gag. “Fine. Let’s calculate it.”

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I placed a Charm of Devotion upon the General, making his world revolve solely around me. But the charm’s power was fleeting, lasting but a single day. Each time it faded, he seethed with a murderous rage. Later, I was captured by the enemy and bound to the city walls. Fearing I would cast my charm, he didn’t wait for their demands. An arrow flew from his bow, straight into my heart. As I watched the blood trickle down the shaft of his arrow, a rare smile touched my lips. “System,” I whispered, “is it time for me to go?” 【Tallying rewards. Estimated completion: ten days.】 I sighed. “Ten more days…” 1 There was barely a breath left in me as I hung from the city wall. The staff, the brand, the whip—all the agonies Marcus suffered in the last life, I endured in this one for him. On the verge of death, I saw him below. A flicker of joy sparked in my heart. So, even when it was me on the wall, he still came. I summoned every ounce of my remaining strength, my lips parting, wanting to shout to him, to tell him to ignore me, to save himself. But before a sound could escape, the arrow left his bow without a moment’s hesitation. It was a perfect shot, not a hair’s breadth off. Right in the heart. He wanted me dead. The smoke of battle billowed and the war drums thundered, but my world fell silent. A void opened in my chest, blood pouring out, yet I felt no pain. He cradled my broken body, a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before. “I could not risk the soldiers and the people behind me. I would have done the same for anyone. I had no choice. Elara, in this life, I owe you.” I laughed. He probably didn’t even realize it himself, but what he owed me was far more than just this one life. Once, in the same scene, facing the same impossible choice, he had thrown down his weapons, dismissed his army, and walked into the city alone to be tortured to death. But that was because the person hanging on the wall was Livia, not me. It wasn’t that he had no choice. It was that I was not his choice. “System, the mission is complete, isn’t it? I can leave now.” 【Affirmative… Please wait for the System to complete its tally. Estimated time: ten days.】 “An arrow is sticking out of my heart, and I have to live for ten more days?” The System was uncharacteristically silent. “What’s wrong?” 【Host, you could choose not to leave. The mission is successful. You can choose to stay here, to not return to the Wastes.】 I smiled, but my voice was inexplicably bitter. “Here? This place is worse than the Wastes.” Yes, Marcus had lived past his twenty-seventh year. My mission was a success. I could return to my own world, and I, too, could live past my own twenty-seventh year… I wanted to go back. I wanted to go back right now. After a long pause, the System finally spoke. 【Understood, Host. I guarantee that for these ten days, you will feel no pain or suffering. You can live healthily, happily, and bid a proper farewell to this world.】 This was the System’s final gift to me. It wanted this broken woman, with an arrow in her heart, to live well for ten more days. 2 I had never truly lived well. This was already my second attempt at saving Marcus. I was transported from the Wastes, my mission to ensure the great general, who was fated to die young, survived past the age of twenty-seven. Once he passed his twenty-seventh birthday, I could return to my own world with a lifetime supply of food. Starving to the point of death, I had accepted without hesitation. The System told me that starting from the age of twenty-three, Marcus faced a death curse every year. So, I traded one of my eyes to the System for the Charm of Devotion. Though I lost sight in one eye, whenever I invoked the charm, his world would narrow to only me. He would do anything I said. On the day of his fated death, I just had to keep him from going anywhere, and the mission would be complete. So, in four years, I used the charm five times. He called me a sorceress, a witch who bewitched and controlled him. But every time I chanted the spell, it was to keep him alive. What I didn’t know was that the charm could fail. That day, he had rushed to the city walls without a care in the world. Because hanging on that wall was the moonlight of his youth, Livia. To save her, he entered the city alone, was tortured, and died. My mission failed. We were both reborn on the day we first met. The System’s rule was that upon mission restart, skills were nullified, but traded items were not returned. So this time, I traded my sense of smell for the charm once more. Everything that followed unfolded just as it had before. Except the one captured by the enemy and hung on the wall was me. I finally understood. Marcus’s fated doom wasn’t a series of accidents. It was always Livia. 3 When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in Marcus’s room. In four years of marriage, I had never once set foot in here. The sound of a woman’s weeping came from the doorway. “If I had known this would happen, I would never have let Lady Elara fetch the medicine for me. That day, she was craving the berry tarts I make, and I spent the whole day in the kitchen.” “If only I had gone myself, then my lady wouldn’t have…” “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.” Marcus’s voice was cold, but the tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “It is my fault. I am the daughter of a disgraced official. My life is worthless. It should have been me who died…” “Nonsense! “Don’t you dare speak of yourself that way!” I had heard enough. I pushed the door open. “My… my lady… You’re not…” Livia, her face a canvas of tears, was nestled against my husband’s chest. She stared at me, utterly shocked. Marcus seemed just as surprised, frozen in place. So, this was the scene that played out while I was dying. The System had promised the wound wouldn’t hurt. Why, then, did my heart still twist in agony? I walked past them and called out, “Anna.” The young maid scrambled in, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. But her face held a joy that was starkly absent from the other two. “I’d like some tea.” I don’t know what possessed Marcus, but he suddenly grabbed my arm. “You’re not dead? Your wound…” I slapped his hand away. “That’s right. Much to your disappointment, I didn’t die.” His chest was still smudged with the powder from Livia’s makeup. The sight of it nauseated me, and I took a step back. But the man who usually wouldn’t deign to touch me suddenly gripped my wrist in a vice. “I was worried about you. Why must you be so hostile?” I struggled, wanting nothing more than to be free of his touch. “My lady, you misunderstand. The General and I… it’s nothing. I was just worried about you, that’s all… Please don’t quarrel with the General because of me.” “You think too much, Lady Livia. I am simply thirsty,” I cut her off. She was about to say more, but Marcus waved his hand. He swept me up into his arms and carried me straight to the bed. The moment he set me down, he began untying my clothes without a word. “What are you doing!” “Don’t move! I need to see the wound.” In the middle of our struggle, we heard a thud from outside. “Lady Livia! Lady Livia, what’s wrong?” Marcus’s body tensed instantly, his head snapping back in alarm. “I’m fine. The General should go and see. Lady Livia is frail.” I used to be consumed with jealousy over Livia. Now, this show of understanding surprised Marcus. He awkwardly patted my head. “Don’t be angry. I’ll call for the physician to check on you.” I smiled and nodded. The second he closed the door, I grabbed the nearby curtain and vigorously wiped the spot on my hair where he had touched me. 4 “The physician said her wound is almost healed, she’s perfectly fine. She’s just pretending to be gravely injured to make the General feel guilty and dote on her more.” “A self-inflicted wound. I heard she went to that den of thieves on her own. It was probably all a deliberate act.” “But she almost died!” “What do you know? It’s all an act. She’s fine.” “You haven’t heard the rumors. What good could come to a woman in an enemy camp? The General is just too kind. It’s a miracle he didn’t just gift her a silken rope to hang herself.” Because of Marcus’s attitude towards me, the servants in the General’s manor never treated me with respect. I was outside getting some air while Anna brought me my favorite fruit. Just as Marcus walked in, the fruit “accidentally” slipped from my hand and hit the gossiping old woman. He picked it up and dismissed the servants. “Why are you still so ill-tempered?” I didn’t answer, merely complaining to Anna that the fruit here was terribly sour. He walked over to me, took out a jade bracelet, and slipped it onto my wrist without asking. “This bracelet is of the finest quality, soaked in the best perfumes. The fragrance is exquisite. It suits you.” I looked up at him. In the depths of his dark eyes, there was a flicker of hope. If this were before, my eyes would have reddened with joy. But now, this fragrance, my nose couldn’t smell it. And this blind eye of mine could no longer turn red. I slid the bracelet off. “I don’t care for such things. The General should give it to Lady Livia.” He frowned. I braced myself for a tirade, but instead, he just clenched his jaw. “Very well. I will find something else you like.” I knew. That arrow at the city gate. He felt guilty. That’s why he was acting like this.

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At the Rose Garden Gala, I saved the cold and distant Lord Chancellor after he fell into the lake. “I am in your debt, my lady.” “Then let me see your legs.” “I shall reward you handsomely.” “I want to see your legs.” “You have a favor from me, whatever it may be.” “So, can I see your legs?” From that day on, everyone in the Capital knew that the simple-minded girl from House Thorne had latched onto the kingdom’s most powerful man. The day the King decreed our marriage, Alistair Sterling’s face was a mask of ice. He praised my “cunning.” But in the end, he accepted the betrothal. “Fine,” he’d said with a sigh. “You’re so simple. No one else would have you.” Then, he saw the Crown Prince coaxing me with sweets. “Lina, my dear,” the Prince murmured, “would you like to play that kissing game from the storybooks?” 1 Alistair Sterling had fallen into the water. The moment I heard the news, I dove into the lake like a shot. I couldn’t let anyone beat me to it. By the time I dragged him ashore, the gaggle of noble ladies who had been watching were shielding their faces and scurrying away. Alistair was dressed in fine, thin silks, which were now soaked through and clinging to his body, the front of his tunic half-open. The older matrons, however, watched with great interest. I watched with great interest, too. “Ahem… Thank you, Lady Lina, for your assistance.” He cupped his hands in a formal gesture of thanks, his voice as crisp and cool as a winter stream. “I have no way to repay you.” Alistair Sterling was blessed with a handsome face—deep-set eyes, a perpetually furrowed brow, and a pair of dangerously charming, almond-shaped eyes. I propped my chin on my hand and let my gaze drift down past his stomach. “Then let me see your legs.” He froze, the crimson mole at the corner of his eye trembling. His face went a shade paler. He quickly changed his offer. “My gratitude, my lady. I will reward you handsomely.” “I want to see your legs.” I was so anxious I could have scratched my own bottom. The thin, wet silk clung to his thighs, offering the faintest hint of their shape. The tips of Alistair’s ears suddenly flushed red. He pressed his lips into a thin, tight line. “Then… consider me to owe you a favor?” “Yes, that’s fine.” I nodded eagerly. A favor was good. My lady mother used to say that a favor was the most expensive thing in the world, and I loved expensive things. He wiped the droplets of water from his forehead, seeming to let out a quiet sigh of relief. My eyes, however, remained fixed on his legs. “So, can I see your legs?” His eyes flew wide in disbelief. “You… you… you…” He sputtered for a moment before finally spitting out two furious words. “You may not!” My gaze fell, and I felt a pang of disappointment. “Fine, if you won’t, you won’t! I won’t look at your legs, then!” I pouted, then brightened. “Hehe, can I see your waist instead?” Thump. Alistair Sterling promptly fainted. And I… I ran for ten miles, my heart soaring. My lady mother always said that if a man falls for a woman, it means he likes her! And fainting is a kind of falling. Therefore, Alistair Sterling liked me! 2 I scurried home, bubbling with joy, to tell my father the wonderful news. “Father, Father, I’m going to have a husband!” He spewed a mouthful of tea, probably overcome with excitement himself. “A husband? Where did a husband come from?” “I fished him out of the water! A fine, big husband, and very handsome!” He listened, then narrowed his eyes in a smile. “Lina, my dear, don’t tease your old father.” He didn’t believe me! Seeing him still smiling, I spun around in frustration. “Alistair Sterling! My husband’s name is Alistair Sterling!” After hearing my tale of heroic rescue, my father shot to his feet, his teacup crashing to the floor. The fat around his waist trembled. “Oh, we’re doomed!” he wailed. “Lina Thorne, you are truly my daughter!” I giggled. “Oh, Father, you praise me too much.” He suddenly whipped a feather duster out from behind his back, his voice grim. “Praise you? You little rascal, I’m going to tan your hide!” I shrieked and ran, my father shrieking and chasing right behind me. In the distance, I saw my elder sister, Cassia, approaching. I immediately dove into her arms. “Sister, save me!” Cassia shielded me, pleading on my behalf. “Father, Lina is still young! She’s just a child! Besides, she saved his life. What’s wrong with looking at his legs? The Lord Chancellor is being far too stingy…” Father roared, “You… you two just keep spoiling her!” Not long after, I was kneeling in the family chapel. I racked my brain, but I just couldn’t understand. I was so clever and bright—I’d even found a husband for myself—so why did Father still want to hit me? Lina was hurt. Lina wanted to cry. It was even worse than being called a simpleton. Ever since I was little, everyone had said I was simple. But I wasn’t simple at all. I knew you had to pick a husband who was good-looking. Because my lady mother once told me that a handsome husband with broad shoulders, a strong chest, a narrow waist, and long legs was a rare treasure, and one had to strike first to claim him. I’d asked her, how do I strike? How do I claim him? She had patted my head and laughed. “You’ll know when you’re older, Lina. Don’t worry, your mother will help you.” Later, I grew up, but my mother became a small wooden plaque on a memorial shelf. Before she closed her eyes for the last time, her voice was a broken whisper. “You must find… a handsome… narrow-waisted, long-legged… a kind husband… My Lina must… live a long and happy life…” My face was a mess of tears and snot. “Lina remembers.” After my coming-of-age, I began to dream of a husband with a narrow waist and long legs, who would play with me, buy me delicious food, and coax me to sleep. I never imagined I, Lina Thorne, would be so lucky. I’d just gone to one gala, and I’d found Alistair. He was like a seductive spirit from a storybook, and he’d turned my world upside down. It’s hard to sleep soundly in a cold chapel, but I had a dream. In my dream, Alistair took my hand and guided it over his body. He was dressed in crimson, his eyes dancing. “Lina,” he murmured. “Is my waist narrow enough? Are my legs long enough?” I smiled sweetly. 3 The next day, my father dragged me to the Sterling estate to apologize. “My Lord Chancellor, it is my failure as a father.” “My daughter is… a bit simple. Your Lordship is a man of great magnanimity; I pray you do not hold it against her.” Remembering last night’s dream, my heart tingled, and I secretly peeked at him. Alistair sat perfectly upright, his face a blank mask. Such a cool and aloof husband. He spoke, his voice flat. “Lord Thorne, are you aware of what they are saying about me and your daughter?” Father dabbed at his sweat with a handkerchief. “Mere rumors, my lord. Pay them no mind.” Alistair’s fan creaked in his grip, his eyes flicking upwards. “They are all saying that at the Rose Garden Gala, Lady Lina heroically saved me, and I, out of gratitude, showed her my legs on the spot. They say our feelings for each other were so overwhelming that we were lost in the sight of my legs, oblivious to the world!” I shot to my feet, indignant. “That’s not true! They’re lying!” Tears of relief welled in Father’s eyes as he gave me a grateful look. “Yes, yes! It’s all a misunderstanding. My daughter is not that kind of person.” I lifted my chin proudly. “He didn’t show me his legs at all! Or his waist! The stingy man!” I watched as my father swayed on his feet. “You little monster! Lina Thorne, you’ve really done it now!” My father fainted. Back at home, Cassia asked if I had done something untoward to Alistair at the gala. I scratched my head and smiled shyly. “No, no. He wouldn’t let me see his legs, or his waist. I actually wanted to see his chest more, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have let me see that either.” Cassia clamped a hand over my mouth. “My little ancestor, you are bold! Looking at his legs was enough! That’s Alistair Sterling!” “The Lord Chancellor, second only to the King himself! Our House Thorne cannot afford to offend him. The entire Capital is now saying you publicly took liberties with him and sullied his reputation. Lina, what will become of your good name?” Cassia was so distressed she began to cry. I stood there, stunned and helpless. “Sister, did I do something wrong?” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry, Lina. We will all protect you.” In just a few days, the rumors grew even more outrageous, claiming Alistair and I had been passionately entangled at the gala, lost to the world. They even reached the palace. The King, intrigued, summoned Alistair and me to court. “They all say you’re a simpleton, but I disagree. To have set your sights on my Lord Chancellor shows you have excellent taste.” The man in the golden robes, seated high on his throne, coaxed me. “Lina, would you like to see his legs every day?” Alistair’s throat bobbed. His ears were bright red. He was so handsome, his posture as elegant as jade. I was a little mesmerized. “Yes, I would,” I answered in a soft, sweet voice, which sent the King into a fit of laughter. When I left the throne room, I had a royal decree of marriage in my hands. Alistair’s face turned glacial, the red mole by his eye losing some of its color. He poked my forehead hard with his finger. It hurt. “Lina Thorne,” he hissed, “you are truly a master of manipulation. But I, Alistair Sterling, will not have a simpleton for a wife!” 4 Alistair was angry. So I woke up early and bought the most expensive, most fragrant pastries in the entire Capital. Cassia used to soothe my tempers the same way. Once the pastries were gone, so was the anger. “Alistair.” I saw his carriage just as I was leaving the bakery. He was dressed in black robes that looked exceptionally fine on him. I held the box of pastries out to him. “Something delicious. It’s very sweet.” He frowned. “Lina Thorne, are you still a child?” A mocking laugh came from inside the carriage. “Let her come up.” The voice was regal and commanding. Once inside, I realized Alistair was escorting the Grand Duchess and her daughter, Lady Annabelle, to the Great Abbey for prayers. Lady Annabelle was my age, bright and exquisitely beautiful. She reached out and patted my cheek. “Oh, Mother, she has dimples! How adorable.” The Grand Duchess looked at me for a long moment. “Hm.” At the Great Abbey, the Duchess led Annabelle to light incense. I hid behind Alistair, following his every step, treading on his shadow. “Lina Thorne, will you stop this nonsense?” His voice was cold as ice, laced with fury. I seized my chance and stuffed a peach blossom pastry into his mouth. “You—mph.” My fingers accidentally brushed his lips. They were soft and smooth, and cool to the touch. His body gave a sudden jolt, and the corners of his eyes flushed red. He chewed and chewed, thumped his chest, and finally swallowed it down with a great gulp. “Was it good?” “It… was fine. A little dry.” I was overjoyed. Now that he’d eaten the pastry, he wouldn’t be angry with me anymore. The abbot hurried over to offer blessings and interpret fortunes for the Duchess and her daughter. “Mother, when will my cousin, the Prince, return to the Capital?” Annabelle pouted prettily, earning a look of doting affection from the Duchess. “I’ve come of age. It’s time for me to be married…” “My, my, a daughter is like a guest in her own home. Don’t you want to stay with your mother a little longer?” “Of course I do~” I slowly lowered my head. Alistair’s gaze shifted to me. “What is it?” A heaviness settled in my chest. “I miss my lady mother.” My mother used to hold me just like that, cooing and comforting me. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the abbey. Someone shouted. “Bandits!” A sharp arrow flew straight for Alistair. I froze for a second, then shoved him out of the way. A searing pain shot through my chest. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Alistair rushing toward the Grand Duchess and her daughter, his eyes filled with panic. I think I dreamed again, but this time, it wasn’t of Alistair. A pack of beasts surrounded me, their shadows tearing at me wantonly. I was crying, crying endlessly. Gradually, familiar voices drifted to me. “Lina, don’t you scare your father.” “Lina, your sister will buy you so many storybooks from now on.” “Lina Thorne, if you just wake up, I’ll give you anything you want!” I forced my eyes open. “Lina’s awake! Lina wants to see your legs!”

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I was secretly married to the movie star for five years. His life was a whirlwind of rumored affairs, yet he never once acknowledged me as his wife. On a variety show, when the others asked if I had ever been in a relationship, even he joined in, smiling. “Professor Thorne, I have plenty of reliable men in my circle. Should I introduce you to one?” In my past life, on this very day, I couldn’t contain my anger and flashed my wedding ring. The rising starlet, Celia White, ran out in tears. On the surface, Damien Sterling said nothing, but afterward, he grew colder and colder towards me. When I was rushed to the operating room, hemorrhaging during my pregnancy, he was at a Michelin-star restaurant, celebrating Celia’s birthday. When I begged him for help after being assaulted by thugs Celia had hired, he just watched, his expression detached. It was only then that I understood. In his heart, I was nothing more than a decoration, something to be kept hidden in the shadows. Reborn into this life, I simply smiled. “I have. He’s not in the industry. We’re getting married at the end of the month.” 1 A chorus of gasps rippled through the room. No one had expected me to announce my relationship on a live show. Damien’s face darkened, the cup in his hand deforming under his grip. He started to speak, but Celia, sitting beside him with a radiant smile, beat him to it, her eyes wide. “Wow, Professor Thorne, you’re so secretive! If you hadn’t lost at Truth or Dare, were you planning on hiding this from us forever?” It was a live variety show, and Celia’s words instantly sent a tidal wave through the online chat. 【Sucks to be Joanna Thorne’s fans! Your idol just ditched you for a relationship!】 【Hehe, at least our Celia is focused on her career! So driven! Men, please step aside!】 【??? Why would we feel ditched? Joanna is an actress. She conquers us with her talent. She’s already won every major award. What’s wrong with her being in a relationship? Unlike a certain someone who still hasn’t made a name for herself!】 【Besides, our Joanna has said for years that she’d find someone when the time was right.】 I smiled faintly. “Secretive or not, at least I’m the main event.” In my past life, I had always believed Celia didn’t know about my relationship with Damien, that she was just another victim of his deception. It wasn’t until I was on my deathbed, and she came to flaunt Damien’s affection for her, that I learned she had known from the very beginning. Celia’s expression flickered, but the other guests didn’t notice. They crowded around me, their curiosity piqued. “Joanna, who is he? Do you have a picture for us?” “He’s not in the industry, but to be worthy of our Joanna, I’m so curious!” I smiled. “He’s a bit camera-shy. I’ll introduce you when I get the chance.” The moment the words left my mouth, a derisive snort cut through the air. Celia raised an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with a challenge. “Professor Thorne, don’t tell me he doesn’t actually exist, and you just made him up. After all, you’re not getting any younger. It would be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t have someone special in your life. Don’t you think so, Mr. Sterling?” Celia batted her eyelashes at Damien, sticking out her tongue playfully. I clenched my fists. The next second, I heard Damien’s clipped, cooperative “Mm.” Celia’s smile grew wider. I mocked myself internally. Just a moment ago, I had still been holding onto a sliver of hope. The other guests tried to smooth things over. “Joanna, don’t be upset. Celia is just joking!” “This is Professor Thorne’s private life. We shouldn’t be prying.” I was about to speak when a man’s voice came from the doorway. “Excuse me, is Joanna here? I’ve come to pick her up.” 2 All heads turned. A young man stood in the doorway, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. His black hair was styled in soft curls that swept across his forehead, his brow as sharp as a chiseled ridge, his face fair and strikingly handsome. When our eyes met, I was taken aback for a moment. He smiled at me. “Joanna, work’s over.” The live chat exploded. 【HOLY CRAP, WHO IS THIS GUY?! HE’S SO HOT! Is this Joanna Thorne’s non-celebrity boyfriend?!】 【Damn, I thought Joanna was lying! But her boyfriend is actually here to pick her up!】 I stood up from my chair and gave a small wave to the others. “I’ll be going then.” From the moment I stood up, I could feel a pair of eyes fixed on me. I didn’t look back. Just as I was about to walk out the door, Damien’s cold voice stopped me. “Joanna Thorne!” I paused and turned to him. “Yes, Mr. Sterling?” His face darkened, his eyes pooling with displeasure. Celia’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s my birthday party tonight. Damien is celebrating with me. Are you coming, Professor Thorne?” I glanced at Damien. He said nothing. “No.” I turned away and walked out. “Happy birthday. I have other plans.” 3 The intense gaze on my back didn’t vanish until I had settled into the backseat of the car. I turned to the man beside me and thanked him. “Thank you, Julian.” Julian Ford replied, “Don’t mention it, Professor. I was watching the live stream and just happened to be passing by.” I smiled faintly, not pressing further. He didn’t ask any more questions either, just said, “Where are you headed? I’ll give you a ride.” I gave him my home address. We arrived quickly. Before I got out, Julian took out his phone and gave it a little shake. “Professor, can I get your number?” I hesitated for a moment. He chuckled softly. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll need your help with something.” Hearing this, I nodded and took out my phone. “Okay.” After exchanging numbers, Julian drove off. I turned and went inside. This house, the one Damien and I had bought before we got married, wasn’t huge, but it was filled with our memories. Back when we had breaks from work, we used to curl up in this house, playing games and binging TV shows. I hadn’t moved after we got married. But now, Damien rarely came home. The moment I stepped inside, my manager’s call came through. “Joanna, check the trending topics! Now!” 4 【Damien Sterling x Celia White, Official Relationship Announcement!】 【What a perfect match!】 I had thought that in this new life, my heart would be as still as water. But the few short lines on the screen still stung my eyes. 【Damien Sterling V: Let me introduce you all to my girlfriend. My one and only. @CeliaWhite】 【Celia White: Here’s to a long future together, always by Mr. Sterling’s side~】 I had been with Damien for five years, married for five years. I had waited ten years for an official announcement. And now, Damien had given it to someone else so easily. My manager, Kate’s, voice continued. “There are rumors online that Celia White is the other woman! This is Damien’s way of defending her! How could he? But Celia is the other woman, isn’t she? You and him have been married for years, and he never…” “Kate.” I cut her off, my voice soft. “When will the visa be ready?” Kate went silent. “You’ve really decided to quit and go abroad?” I nodded. Ten years ago, I had given up my dream for Damien Sterling. Now, I wouldn’t let him ruin my life a second time. 5 Damien and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together. My parents died when I was young, and I was a shy, introverted child living under someone else’s roof, constantly bullied by the other kids. Damien would always stand in front of me, protecting me, fighting my battles. Until we were fifteen. His parents’ business went bankrupt, and they took their own lives, leaving him alone with a mountain of debt. He was devastated, on the verge of suicide several times. I was the one who held him, who comforted him. We were each other’s light in the darkness, depending on one another to survive. When we were eighteen, I received an offer from a prestigious university abroad, the school of my dreams. That day, Damien said nothing. He just held my hand, his eyes red, and stood with me all night. After that night, I rejected the acceptance letter and, instead, accepted an offer from a talent scout, entering the entertainment industry. I was going to pay off Damien’s debt. He was still young, with a long road ahead of him. He couldn’t be dragged down by this. But the entertainment industry wasn’t an easy place. I auditioned and acted day and night, taking on any job I could get. I drank at dinner parties until I vomited blood. Finally, in my fifth year, after a hit show, I managed to clear the Sterling family’s debt. People close to me asked if it was worth it. At the time, watching Damien cook for me every day, staying by my side, I felt it was all worth it. But now… A notification on my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a call from Damien. I thought for a moment and answered. His voice was cold. “Quite the actress, aren’t you? Hiring other men to put on a show? Trying to make me jealous? You miscalculated. I know how much you love me. I wasn’t provoked at all.” I held the phone, saying nothing. A familiar female voice came through the line. “Damien, come cut the cake with me!” Damien answered, “Coming.” Then, to me, he said, “You know Celia and I have a new show coming out. Once it’s aired, I’ll break up with her. Don’t overthink it. Be good and wait for me at home tonight. I’ll bring you your favorite dish.” 6 My mind drifted back. Damien had entered the entertainment industry after being spotted by a director while visiting me on set. I had immediately refused on his behalf. Damien’s dream was to be a research scientist. If he started acting, his dream would be over. But I never expected Damien to go see the director privately. Afterward, he had held me, his eyes red. “Joanna, I don’t want you to live a hard life with me. I want to make a lot of money, to make your life better and better.” From then on, Damien gave up his dream for me and focused on his career in entertainment. As we both got busier, we saw each other less and less. The first time a rumor about him surfaced, he took a five-hour flight to be by my side, holding me and apologizing, telling me it was a misunderstanding and he would handle it. He told me not to worry. When I suggested we go public with our marriage, he said it would affect his career and hurt his fans, that it wasn’t the right time. But he promised me that I would be his only wife, the only one by his side. In the end, I thought of his career and let it go. Until later… The appearance of Celia White. She was at a banquet, about to be taken advantage of, when she ran, fell into the water, and was rescued by Damien. She seemed like a delicate white flower, pure and innocent, lying soaked in Damien’s arms. That night, they were all over the trending topics, with gossip accounts running wild. That time, Damien didn’t say a single word.

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My brother beaned someone on the basketball court and tasked me with delivering his apology note. But curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the envelope, and suddenly, a stream of text filled my vision—like comments on a livestream. 【LMAO, he hits the one girl out of everyone on the court? This dude is so obvious. Does he really think that’s a good way to get the main girl’s attention?】 【Seriously, can these two siblings get a clue? One intentionally injures people on the court, the other is constantly clinging to the male lead. Are they addicted to being the villains in our main couple’s love story?】 【They’re so annoying. Can’t they just disappear and let our leads have their moment?】 【It’s fine, lol. The two of them are just a couple of simps. The brother is the worst—a total coward who’s been crushing on her from the start. This is just for comedic relief. Hahahaha.】 What? I might be a simp, that’s fine. But my brother? The six-foot-two dreamboat with abs, who can play basketball, who’s a total charmer, who’s kind and sunny and has a voice that could melt butter—he’s a simp, too? And he’s got a secret crush? I laughed so hard I almost died. That night, I rewrote the apology note into a full-blown love letter and delivered it to the girl myself. 1 By the time Briar got back from the teacher’s office, I’d already been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes. The hot sun bleached the ends of her hair, and her washed-out school uniform was buttoned meticulously to the very top. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had the look of someone who was easy to push around. And honestly, she was. She was clutching a packet of competition math problems. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d used a red pen to write out an even more concise solution. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold remarks had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and straightened up. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Briar?” I said, crossing my arms and looking down at her with my prettiest, most intimidating eyes. Students in the hallway started to stare, their whispers buzzing in the air. “What’s going on? How did Briar get on the wrong side of her?” Someone else drawled, “Who knows? Probably because she’s been spending all her time with John for the math competition. You know how jealous she gets.” “That makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The whispers were impossible to ignore. Briar clutched the hem of her uniform, her fingers twisting the fabric. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was obviously nervous, but she forced her voice to be steady. “Can I help you?” The captions were a torrent of criticism. 【First she harasses the male lead, now she’s bullying the female lead. I’m so sick of her! Does she really think this will make him like her?!】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. Is our girl gonna get bullied?】 【Don’t worry. If she touches a single hair on her head, the male lead will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main couple even likes each other yet.】 【He’ll still protect her instinctively. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all that text, two words stood out. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Briar kept her expression neutral, watching us without flinching. Her fingers tightened, feeling every fold and crease in the papers she held. It was almost a reminder to herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only bring trouble. Just as she was bracing for whatever nasty thing I was about to say, a rich, floral scent drifted through the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her. “So, here’s the deal,” I said. “My brother has a huge crush on you.” “But he’s a total coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, adorned with a decorative stamp and sealed with a beautiful, pressed flower. Briar stared at it, momentarily stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed completely out of place with her own simple, almost threadbare existence. But there, written clearly on the front, was her name. All of her energy was poured into studying, into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. She had never, ever imagined a scene like this. She had no idea how to react. Her heartbeat, a beat late, began to thunder in her ears, a frantic rhythm that, combined with the catcalls and whoops from the surrounding students, threatened to swallow her whole. Her eyes were red, her earlobes were red, and her cheeks were even redder. So cute. She was the perfect match for my handsome brother. I placed the envelope in her hand with a grin. The paper, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingertips curl. The teasing from the crowd grew louder. Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy on the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She sounded uncertain. “Yep! The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a flash of bold, passionate red broke through her otherwise drab memories. A boy in a red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but when he had crouched down to her level, he had apologized, flustered, gently asking if she was okay. It was a stark contrast to John’s cold, detached aura. This boy had smelled of the scorching afternoon sun, sweat still glistening on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, almost overwhelming life force that was unique to boys his age. But even in that moment, her attention had been drawn to his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed the chasm between their social classes. He was like John, and yet, completely different. Even though the game was on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and had even pressed his student ID card into her hand, telling her to use it for any medical fees. As he turned to leave, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Martin. A name that sounded as vibrant and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Martin. He’s a senior,” I said, giving her a wink. She slowly tightened her grip on the letter, her voice soft and trembling with nerves. “Yeah.” “He really, really likes you. But… he’s a coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could hardly look at him directly… Could he really be a coward? 2 For that little stunt, the captions cursed me out for days. 【She just has to mess with the main couple’s story, doesn’t she! So gross!】 【Does she really think the female lead would fall for her brother? Talk about delusional.】 【LMAO, her brother is the classic second male lead. The main guy might be cold, but that’s exactly what the female lead likes about him. That whole ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ thing.】 【Totally. Someone as insecure and sensitive as the female lead would prefer a quiet, steady presence. Someone with a personality that different from hers would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? As I walked into the exam hall with my pencils, I saw Briar. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed distracted, her gaze frequently drifting to a boy sitting in the front left of the room. That was my brother, Martin. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze was fixed on the chocolate bar still sitting in Martin’s palm. Wait. He didn’t give it to her? …Or was he rejected? I had seen the exam seating chart ahead of time, and the moment I knew Briar would be in our hall, I told Martin. He had just grunted, a nonchalant “Mm,” but the tips of his ears had turned red. I sensed something was up. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Briar, too?! No way, when did you get so bold?” I caught the dark look he shot me. …Oh, right. It was probably because I’d been so over-the-top when I delivered the letter. He’d found out from his friends that same day that I’d swapped his apology for a love letter. But he hadn’t denied it, his excuse being that it would have embarrassed her. I saw right through it. He was clearly happy about it. So, I had given him a special chocolate bar a friend had brought me from abroad and told him to give it to Briar the next day. For the first time, the boy who was always so composed and confident showed a rare flicker of adolescent awkwardness. “Won’t that be… too sudden?” he’d asked, hesitating. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, confused. “When you’re pursuing a girl, you give her flowers, bags, gifts! If you just talk and don’t spend any money, that’s not called pursuing, that’s called harassing.” I was very self-righteous about it. Martin had agreed. I just never imagined his first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in a flat-out rejection. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him. He was resting his head on one hand, his eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted his pale skin. He looked like he was thinking, or maybe just zoning out. And the chocolate bar between his long fingers was mangled beyond recognition. The captions were a symphony of mockery. 【LMAO, I told you the female lead wouldn’t fall for a side character. He got rejected so hard!】 【He played himself. The clown is him! Hahahaha.】 【They’re all just simps for the main couple anyway. Might as well watch the circus.】 Simps. Haha, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for us. 3 With a wooden expression, I walked past John’s desk without stopping. I kept going, right past him. The boy, who was usually the picture of indifference, actually flinched, his eyelids twitching. Yes, not only were Briar and my brother in the same exam hall, but John was here, too. Of course. The side characters only exist to ornament the main characters’ love story. My brother was already miserable enough. I couldn’t embarrass myself, too. The seating for the monthly exam wasn’t strict. I easily swapped seats with the boy in front of me and sat down next to Briar. She snapped back to reality, a lock of hair falling beside her ear, hiding her momentarily panicked eyes. The fountain pen at the edge of her desk was knocked off by her elbow, rolling to my feet. The logo on the cap was faded, with only a single letter, L, barely visible. The body of the pen was heavily worn, the plating rubbed away to reveal the base metal underneath. I was about to bend down and pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, grabbed the pen, and clutched it tightly in her palm. “Thank you,” she said, noticing my intention. Her voice was quiet and quick. For a moment, I let go of my usual spoiled princess act and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Can you even write with a pen like that? I couldn’t help but watch her. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal gel pen from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered fountain pen just sat quietly on her desk. It seemed to be there more for companionship than for use. My mind drifted. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she rejected Martin. Next time, I’ll have him give her some school supplies. He can’t get rejected for that, right? The chirping of the cicadas outside mingled with the soft scratching of pens inside. I didn’t know how to do any of the problems, so I just spun my pen, rested my chin on my hand, and openly studied her. She wrote slowly, deliberately. She was slightly hunched over, her strokes careful and unhurried. I’d heard she was the first person from her hometown to ever get into this high school. She had fought her way out of a family that favored sons over daughters, enduring everyone’s doubts and pressure to get to where she was today. Like a small white flower blooming from the face of a cliff. Beneath her seemingly fragile exterior was a stubborn and unyielding soul. How could someone who craved love and validation so much fall for someone as cold and almost cruel as John? I couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps my stare was too intense. She turned her head slightly and looked at me. When she saw I had left the last multiple-choice question blank, she pursed her lips and subtly flashed me a ‘C’ with her fingers. My eyes lit up. Way more generous than that cheapskate John! A girl this kind and gentle deserved my brother! So what if we were simps? I’d be her little simp, too! 4 As usual, John finished his exam half an hour early. A wave of cold air washed over me as he walked past my desk. His dark eyes flicked down for a split second, his gaze landing on my long-finished answer sheet. At that moment, I was slumped over my desk, doodling circles on my scratch paper out of sheer boredom. It was obvious I was waiting for someone. But even as he handed in his paper and was about to walk out of the classroom, he heard no sound of a chair scraping behind him. The proctor looked up as the boy returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, surprised. “Forgot my pen,” John said flatly. The crisp, straight line of his pant leg passed by my desk for a second time. And I was still doodling. I didn’t even look up. All the attention I used to lavish on John was now focused entirely on Briar. I was doodling and fretting. What excuse could I use to get Briar and my brother to have lunch together? 5 With five minutes left, Briar stood up to hand in her paper. Martin and I capped our pens in perfect sync, got up, and followed her out of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. “How come you didn’t go find John today?” he asked. I pouted. “Don’t want to.” We pretended to be going with the flow of the crowd, but we were actually tailing her all the way to the cafeteria. After getting our food, we both sat down right across from her. When Briar looked up, she was met with two pairs of nearly identical eyes staring at her intently. I chose to ignore the sea of empty tables around us and gave her a wink. “It’s so crowded in here. You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?” She lowered her head. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she mumbled. Martin and I rarely ate in the main first-floor cafeteria. I glanced at the sad-looking vegetables on her tray and blurted out, “Is that all you’re eating? There’s no nutrition in that…” As I spoke, I picked up a piece of braised pork, but the moment it hit my tongue, I gagged. “Blech… this is disgusting…” Briar looked startled. “Is it… spoiled?” she asked hesitantly. But the glossy sheen and fragrant aroma suggested otherwise. “It’s nothing, she’s just a picky eater,” Martin explained to her sheepishly, handing me a napkin to wipe my mouth. “Oh, okay.” Briar awkwardly averted her gaze. She was about to say she had an unopened bottle of water in her backpack, but then she saw me stand up. “I’m going to go buy some milk to rinse my mouth out. You guys take your time.” The slender hand that had just touched her backpack zipper quickly retreated. Now, there were only two of them at the table. The atmosphere instantly became tense. Briar ducked her head even lower, her world shrinking to the confines of her tray as she ate, bite by silent bite. Suddenly, she heard the boy across from her speak, his voice tentative. “Are you on a diet?” Her poverty suddenly had a plausible excuse. Briar’s hand paused. “Mm,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible. “You’re under a lot of academic pressure right now, you should eat properly,” Martin said, his eyes downcast. His voice was slow and deep. “She’s probably not coming back. Can you help me finish this meat? It’d be a shame to waste it.” Before she could refuse, he had already picked up his tray and scraped all of his meat onto hers. She was silent for a long time. Martin finally looked up and met her wide, shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. She stared at him, a storm of unreadable emotions swirling in their depths, before she forcibly tucked them away behind a soft, watery gaze. Her expression felt strangely familiar to him, so familiar it made his heart ache. …It made him want to protect her. She looked at him, and then a small smile curved her lips. Quietly, but clearly and firmly, she said, “Thank you, Martin.”

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My sugar daddy brought me to a fancy party, and I got into a massive brawl with his childhood sweetheart. When he finally pulled me out of the chaos, I glared at him through my messy hair. “Picking sides, are we?” He said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you.” 1 I was Clark Croft’s kept woman. I’d been with him for three years. He was handsome, rich, and incredible in bed. He was generous with me, too. His only rule? No kissing scenes. It cost me a few roles and earned me a reputation for being “stuck-up,” but I didn’t care. I’ve always been the type to play by the rules and never cause him trouble. I just never imagined my first time causing trouble would be this big. I beat up the woman he’d supposedly been in love with his whole life, who had just returned from overseas. 2 It all started when Clark asked me to be his date to a party. I never fit in with his high-society crowd and was tempted to refuse, but I’d been away filming for three months, and the truth was, I missed him. So I went. As expected, I ran into people I’d rather avoid. I tried to steer clear, but they always seemed to find me. I had just stepped out into the garden for a breath of fresh air when Evelyn and Cara followed me. Evelyn was Clark’s childhood friend. Her family had moved abroad a few years ago for business and had only recently returned. Cara was my arch-nemesis, the one who constantly paid for smear campaigns and negative press about me. I never would have guessed they knew each other. I sat on a bench, not wanting to move. Cara, arms crossed, started in with her thinly veiled insults. “Isn’t this Mr. Song’s engagement party? How did they let just anyone in?” Evelyn glanced at me, her tone flat. “Didn’t you drag me out here to talk? Is this it?” Cara shot her a sycophantic smile. “Don’t be in such a rush, Evie. It was so stuffy inside. Let’s get some air, we can chat while we walk.” Evelyn didn’t say anything, just leaned casually against the fountain. “Evie, are you and Clark getting married?” “Mm, it’s more or less decided.” “That’s wonderful! A match made in heaven. Some people should really know when to make a graceful exit.” Evelyn remained silent. Cara kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I turned to leave, but her next words stopped me in my tracks. “Some people aren’t just trash themselves, their families are a mess, too. That construction project disaster… so many people lost their jobs. If you ask me, the person in charge getting off with just a broken leg was karma.” My steps faltered. I turned, walked right up to her, and slapped her twice. Cara clutched her face, glaring at me. “Ivy, are you crazy?” I scoffed. “Talking behind my back is one thing, but did you really think I wouldn’t dare to hit you to your face?” Evelyn frowned at me. “Miss Shaw, this is the Song family’s home. Have you considered the consequences of your actions?” My gaze was sharp. “Miss Vance, if it were your parents being slandered like that, I hope you’d also have the presence of mind to consider the consequences first.” Evelyn didn’t answer, but Cara lunged, grabbing my hair. We tumbled into a heap, scratching and pulling. I don’t know how Evelyn got involved, but by the time Clark and the others arrived, the three of us were a tangled mess on the ground. Clark’s face was dark as he yanked me out of the fray. I was a complete wreck. Across from me, Evelyn looked much better. I leveled a cold glare at Clark. “Picking sides, are we?” His brow was furrowed, but he said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you!” Holding my breath, I ran out of the garden, out of the house, and jumped into a taxi that had just pulled up. But I couldn’t hold back the tears. A wave of overwhelming hurt washed over me. I had just wrapped a shoot yesterday and had come to see him, filled with longing. We barely spoke, and then I get humiliated and he takes her side. My phone buzzed relentlessly. It was Clark. I answered, launching a preemptive strike. “The penthouse is in my name. You have one week to move out!” I hung up and blocked him on everything. That bastard. We were done. 3 I didn’t go back to the penthouse. I found a random hotel and checked in. After a shower, I finally calmed down enough to realize how insane my actions had been. I had to be the first kept woman to ever kick out her sugar daddy. I was getting bolder and bolder with him. In the beginning, I was the one who was timid and subservient. I first met Clark at an industry party. My agent was forcing me to schmooze with directors and investors. My family used to be well-off, but my father’s construction business had gone under. He not only broke his leg, but he also used every penny we had to compensate his workers. We were drowning in debt, and my parents were stressed to their breaking point. I wanted to help, so when a scout offered me a contract, I signed it without thinking. It was a predatory deal. I got no resources and was dragged to parties to drink with powerful men. I couldn’t afford to break the contract, so I dodged a few parties by faking illnesses. Until that night, when I had no choice but to go. I pushed open the door to a private room filled with middle-aged men. At the head of the table, Clark was a breath of fresh air, impossible to miss. But he was just leaving as I arrived. In a panic, I followed him out. “Sir,” I asked, “can I be with you?” He was a head taller than me and looked down. “And why is that? Do I look like the easiest target?” He looked like the hardest target, but I didn’t dare say that. I shook my head earnestly. “You’re the most handsome.” Clark chuckled. “I know.” I could sense his impatience. I wracked my brain. “You look like a good person.” A half-smile played on his lips. “You’re a bad judge of character, then.” And then he left, and my agent dragged me back inside. They forced a lot of alcohol on me. When a fat, greasy director’s hand landed on my thigh, I struggled, knocking over a glass. He slapped me, calling me ungrateful, and started pulling at my clothes. In a moment of desperation, I grabbed a shard of broken glass and stabbed him in the leg. I was sure I was going to jail. Then, the door to the room swung open, and Clark was standing there. He glanced inside, and the director, who had been squealing like a pig, fell silent. “Didn’t you want to be with me? What are you waiting for?” I dropped the glass shard and threw myself into his arms, shaking so hard I could barely stand. He held me until he carried me out of there. 4 Clark took me back to his penthouse on the South Bank. I had showered hours ago but was too scared to leave the bathroom. I could hear him on the phone outside, dealing with the mess from earlier. When the talking stopped, I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out. He was lounging on the sofa, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of his collarbones. I walked up to him, mustered all my courage, and dropped the towel. I didn’t dare to look up. He stood, picked up the towel, and wrapped it around me again. “Not very old, but you’ve got a lot of tricks,” he teased. My face was burning. “I… I’ve never been with anyone before… I don’t know the… procedure…” “Look at me.” I clutched the towel and forced myself to meet his eyes. His gaze was calm, with a playful glint that was both captivating and dangerous. “You trust me that much? Not afraid I’m worse than them?” A jolt of fear shot through me. I quickly tried to flatter him. “No way. Good-looking people are always kind.” He laughed, pulling me close until our bodies were pressed together. He bent his head and kissed me. It was my first kiss. My head was spinning. His thumb gently caressed my lips. “Go to sleep,” he murmured. “Are you scared to sleep alone?” I nodded dazedly. “Hm? Is that how you treat the person you’re with?” The upward lilt in his voice was a warning. I threw my arms around him. “I’m scared. I want you to hold me.” Satisfied, he tucked me into bed and went back outside to make another call. Half an hour later, he came back and held me as I fell asleep. For the next few days, I obsessively checked the news, but there was nothing about me. A week later, my predatory contract was terminated. Clark set me up with a new agency and a new agent. The director who had tried to assault me vanished from the industry. For three years, Clark gave me the best resources, roles that were perfect for me. I worked my way up from an unknown actress to a solid B-lister. My family’s debts were all paid off. My parents opened a small shop back home. Everything seemed to be getting better. Only I knew that things were getting worse. Because I was falling deeper and deeper for Clark. He was my benefactor, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him as my lover. I don’t know when it started. Falling in love with Clark was just too easy. 5 The next morning, I woke up to hundreds of missed calls, mostly from my agent, Claire. I had no idea what was going on. I quickly called her back, and her booming voice chased away all my drowsiness. “My dear God, you finally answered your phone! Do you have any idea what’s happening?” “What did you do last night? What is going on?” I was completely bewildered. While still on the phone, I checked the trending topics. #IvyShawAttacksCaraMiller #IvyShawGetOutOfShowbiz #IvyShawRetires A video of my fight with Cara had been leaked, but it was cleverly edited. It cut out everything before and after, showing only the few seconds where I lunged at her. I closed my eyes and explained everything to Claire, including the fact that I had broken up with Clark. After all, I didn’t have a sugar daddy to protect me anymore. Claire was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Take a few days off. Stay off the internet. I’ll figure something out.” After hanging up, I watched the video again. It was shot from a hidden angle, clearly premeditated. Even Evelyn, who had been standing right there, was cropped out. The frame only showed me and Cara. The comments were a landslide. 【Ivy Shaw looks like such a bitch. And she actually hits people. Someone finally exposed her.】 【I heard she has a powerful sugar daddy. How else could she get so many good roles with her terrible acting?】 【Insider info: she was just a stand-in for his real love. Now that the real one is back, she’s been kicked to the curb.】 I knew from the “stand-in” comments that Cara was behind this, manipulating public opinion. But I felt strangely calm. Let them curse me. It was part of the job. As long as they left my family out of it, I could take it. As for being a stand-in, that was pure nonsense. When Clark and I first got together, he was so good to me it was almost unsettling. One time, he picked me up from a dinner party, and fueled by a bit of liquid courage, I asked him if I looked like someone he knew. He had wrapped his arms around me and flicked my forehead. “Getting a little too into your roles, are we? A stand-in? I don’t do that.” I pushed my luck and asked if there was anyone else. He scoffed. “Do I look like I have the time?” Getting that confirmation made me happy for a long time. Maybe Clark wasn’t deeply in love with me. Maybe it was the novelty, or maybe he was just too lazy to find someone new. It didn’t matter. At least while we were together, there was no one else. I could live without being loved. I could live without being his one and only. But I couldn’t live without that last shred of dignity. 6 Because of the sudden negative press, a variety show I was scheduled to appear on was canceled. Now I was stuck in my hotel room, afraid to go out. I was genuinely scared of anti-fans. Two years ago, I played a crazy, villainous character. The role was beautiful and unhinged, and I portrayed her so well that people said it didn’t seem like I was acting. I just never expected someone to confuse the character with the actor. While I was recovering from a leg injury, someone threw a hornet’s nest at me, trying to disfigure me. Thankfully, Clark arrived quickly. He set his own suit jacket on fire to drive the hornets away. A custom-made suit worth hundreds of thousands, gone just like that. I shook my head, trying to clear the thought of him. I checked my phone for missed calls and messages. Encouragement and comfort from all my friends. But nothing from Clark. Then it hit me. I had blocked him. On everything. I threw my phone down in a fit of pique. He was powerful enough. If he wanted to find me, he could. He just didn’t care. Sitting by the window, I felt so contradictory and dramatic. I knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t help but hold on to a sliver of hope. I always felt like he must like me, at least a little. After all, he was the one who came to me on New Year’s Eve, braving a snowstorm just to be with me. The first New Year I spent with him, I didn’t go home because of a tight schedule. I stayed at the penthouse. On New Year’s Eve, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the front door open. I shot up in bed, grabbed a lamp, and crept to the door. Clark was standing in the foyer, snowflakes still clinging to his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at the lamp in my hand. “Is this how you welcome me on New Year’s?” I dropped the lamp and jumped on him. I wanted to ask him why he was here, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to hear that. So the words that came out were, “How is it that you appear the moment I think of you?” He carried me to the bedroom, his voice a teasing whisper in my ear. “Let me see just how much you were thinking of me.” Outside, the wind howled. Inside, the air was thick with heat. By the time he finished his shower, I was already half-asleep. In a daze, I felt him tuck a red envelope under my pillow and press a kiss to my forehead. “Happy New Year, Ivy.” The first New Year I spent without my parents, I wasn’t alone.

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To prevent my apprentice from falling into a forbidden romance with me, I spent ten years disguised as an old man. Only once, in a desperate attempt to save him, did my illusion fail. After that, he wouldn’t consider marrying anyone but me and nearly succumbed to dark magic. My only choice was to ask my junior, another instructor, to take on my appearance and deceive him. My foolish apprentice believed it. He fell for him, went crazy for him, and would have torn down walls for him. I ignored the flicker of irritation in my heart and continued to play the part of the old man. Until one night, he crept into my bed, loomed over me, and whispered, “Master, you are truly cruel. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that imposter?” 1 The Order of the Celestial Sword had three ironclad rules. One: No romance between master and apprentice. Two: When taking an apprentice, the master must be disguised as an old man to prevent romance. Three: Apprentices must not call their master “My Lord” or any other term of endearment. They must only use the title “Master” to prevent romance. Hence, our order was also known as the Order of the Old Men. I had been a dashing, youthful prodigy for a hundred and thirty-two years before it was finally my time to become an old man. Because this year, I took on an apprentice. His name was Caelus. He came from nothing, but his innate talent for magic was astonishing. I had to fight three of my fellow instructors to claim him. In the Great Hall, Caelus looked around. There was a stereotypical old man with white hair and an air of ancient wisdom. There was a flashy old man dripping in sparkling chains. And there was a rebellious old man with red hair, heavy makeup, and a snake coiled around his arm. Caelus’s face darkened as he asked the million-dollar question: “Why are they all old men?” The only one who wasn’t an old man was my junior, Alistair. Caelus pointed at him. “Can’t he be my master?” I couldn’t blame him. Alistair was a Fae, and when he had chosen his human form, he had, without my permission, used my face as a reference. His skill wasn’t perfect, so he only bore a passing resemblance to me, but among a sea of old men, he was a vision of youthful beauty. Alistair looked flattered. He’d been in the order for so long and still looked like a teenager because he was, frankly, a terrible mage and couldn’t attract a single apprentice. You think he didn’t want to be an old man? He was desperate for it. Alistair shot me a pleading look. “Senior…” I knew how badly he wanted an apprentice. But I whispered a dark threat in his ear. “Junior, are you sure about this? With your power level, are you certain the final trials won’t result in a double fatality?” My turn of phrase, a masterpiece of linguistic terror, must have spooked him. He stumbled back a few steps. “Perhaps… perhaps Senior should be the one to take him,” he stammered. Caelus’s opinion of me soured even further. But I was, arguably, the most normal-looking of the bunch. With no other choice, Caelus knelt before me, his face a stony mask. “Apprentice greets his lord.” That “my lord” was a thunderclap. Every old man in the hall instinctively clenched. I quickly stopped him. “Call me Master. Never ‘my lord’.” Caelus was confused. “But ‘master’ sounds like a blacksmith.” “Master, as in a paternal figure. Once a master, always a father. Can I not be a father to you?” Caelus looked me up and down. “But Master, you look old enough to be my grandfather.” I won’t say who was triggered. Isn’t there a rule that fantasy heroes can be a hundred, or a thousand, but never forty? I was one hundred and thirty-two, still in my prime! It was the first day, and my head was already starting to ache. I scoffed. “What’s wrong with being an old man? Old men get pensions.” 2 I was a renowned sword mage in the Order. Before I took an apprentice, they called me the Sword Saint. After I became an old man, I became “that old guy who’s really good with a sword.” Seeing Caelus still gazing longingly at Alistair’s face, I cleared my throat. “My boy, looks are fleeting. Your junior uncle Alistair may be young, but does he have my level of power? I am known as the Sword Saint. I may be old, but when I ascend to a higher plane, this entire Spire will be yours.” Caelus looked down, his eyes fixed on the gleaming sword in my hand. “Master, when are you ascending?” I was silent for a moment. “No need to ascend. You can have the sword now.” “Thank you, Master.” Caelus looked up, his delicate features set in a grim expression. Not a hint of a smile. It gave me the creeps. I put on a stern face and ordered him to practice three hundred sword swings. Caelus was obedient enough, diligently starting his practice under the hot sun. But he was malnourished and frail. Before he reached one hundred swings, his arms were already aching too much to lift. On the one-hundredth swing, the heavy sword pulled him off balance, and he collapsed. My heart lurched. I almost rushed forward to catch him. No. I can’t spoil him. My own grand-master, he had caught his apprentice when he fell from a tree. The next day, he was seen fleeing his apprentice’s chambers, clutching his rear. I had to be strict with Caelus to prevent any forbidden romance. There was no way I was falling in love with the head of the Disciplinary Council. I crossed my arms, nudged him with the toe of my boot, and taunted, “Is that all you can do? What’s the point of practicing the sword? You might as well go home and sell potatoes.” Caelus panted, glaring up at me with hatred in his eyes. I would later learn that his village was incredibly poor and survived by growing potatoes, but they never got to eat any of them themselves. But Caelus said nothing. He just gritted his teeth, pushed himself up, and continued to swing the sword, his body trembling. I stood there in the sun with him, watching for three long hours. When he finished the last swing, he could barely stand and fell to his knees, looking pathetic and wretched. I fought the urge to help him up and praise him. Instead, I tossed him a vial of priceless, life-restoring elixir. “Mediocre,” I said coolly. “Four hundred swings tomorrow. I’ll be watching.” My junior, Alistair, suddenly rushed over with a pile of things, wiping Caelus’s sweat and cooing, “Caelus, why are you so stubborn? If you’re tired, you just have to ask your uncle for a break.” Caelus leaned weakly against him, still glaring at me. He mustered all his strength to throw the elixir back at me. “Thank you for the gift, Master,” he said stiffly, “but I don’t need it!” You little rebel! I grabbed Caelus and in an instant, refined his spirit! No, I grabbed him and smacked his butt twice with the flat of my scabbard. Alistair tried to intervene. I shot him a sidelong glance. “You want some, too?” Alistair shut up. I forced the elixir into Caelus’s mouth. The pill dissolved instantly. His eyes widened as if to say something, but the immediate effect of the potion left him stunned. “For defying your master,” I said smugly, “one hundred extra swings tomorrow!” Caelus must hate me so much. He probably wants to kill me the moment he graduates. Perfect. Another day with my rear end safe and sound. 3 Under my harsh tutelage, Caelus grew more rebellious. I told him to do five hundred swings a day; he secretly did six hundred. Curious, I started hiding myself nearby to watch him practice. I discovered he had carved a wooden dummy in my likeness. A very handsome old man, I might add. Just as I was admiring my wooden doppelganger, he lopped its head off with one clean strike. Now it was just old. The way he attacked that wooden master… you couldn’t call it respectful, but you could definitely call it patricidal. I was so gratified. This way, even if we became enemies in the future, Caelus would only stab me in the chest, not in the… other place. I thought we could continue our days in mutual animosity, but one day, Caelus stumbled upon my grand-master and his apprentice. My grand-master has been vain since he was young. Also a sword mage, he had his sword encrusted with nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine diamonds. During duels, his opponents would be busy trying to pry the diamonds off his sword. Even after being forced to become an old man, he hadn’t changed. The Order had strict regulations for the old man illusions, down to the number of hairs, eyebrows, and wrinkles. But my grand-master, behind our backs, had secretly removed five wrinkles. Disgusting! At the time, I had cursed him in my heart. Dressing up like that all day, you’d better watch out or your apprentice will pin you down. My curse came true. Caelus was returning from practice and passed by my grand-master’s chambers. He saw my grand-master, disheveled and scowling, with his apprentice, Ronan, his hand resting possessively on his waist. It was too late for me to jump out and cover Caelus’s eyes. It was too late to explain that Ronan was just being a good apprentice and helping the old man. Because Ronan then leaned in and planted a loud kiss on my grand-master’s suspiciously smooth, recently-lifted face. Stop it! I watched as Caelus looked like he’d been struck by lightning, his mind exploding. His face went from green to black to white. I was hoping he’d pretend he saw nothing, that this sordid scene would just slide off his smooth, apprentice-like cerebral cortex. But then Ronan, with a look of pure satisfaction, said in a husky, post-coital voice, “My Lord, was I too rough today? You have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable!” Shut your mouth! Even an idiot like Caelus knew that “rough” didn’t refer to sword practice! His pupils were quaking. He could barely hold his sword. “You… you two!” My grand-master’s face changed, but Ronan was completely unfazed. “What about us? Little brother, this is a normal master-apprentice relationship. Isn’t it like this with you and your master?” “How is this normal?! Normal people don’t kiss their master’s face! And they don’t ask if they were too rough!” I nodded in the shadows. Ronan frowned. “Little brother, do you really need me to spell it out for you? Yes, my lord and I are in love! So what?” My grand-master looked like he wanted to die, hiding his face behind his diamond-studded sword. Caelus was devastated. “Brother,” he stammered, “you must be desperate…” Ronan smirked. “Don’t be so quick to judge, little brother. I hear your master, Lord Faelan, was the greatest beauty in the magical world in his youth. Maybe if you saw a portrait of him from back then, you’d understand.” Caelus held his ground. “I would never fall in love with an old man!” I was halfway through a nod. Then he asked, “My master… that old man… where can I find a portrait of him from when he was young?” My heart skipped a beat. I had a very bad feeling about this. 4 I remembered my younger days, before I was an old man. I was arrogant, proud of my looks. Every time I vanquished a demon, I would have the locals paint my heroic visage. As a result, portraits of me were more common in the Order than cockroaches. Every apprentice had one, not for admiration, but to pray to before exams. After I became an old man, they trusted me even more. They abandoned my youthful, handsome portraits and frantically bought up my old man ones. I really don’t understand young people these days. I checked all the portraits in the apprentices’ possession and confirmed they were all of the old man version of me before I finally relaxed. But then I returned to my own chambers to find the floor littered with portraits, and Caelus holding one up, about to unroll it. Oh, crap. I forgot about my own private collection! I paled, snatched the scroll from his hands, my voice cracking. “You insolent whelp! Did you see everything?” Caelus looked at me with a complicated expression and nodded. My heart sank. I scrutinized his face, terrified he had fallen in love with me. But he seemed perfectly normal, not like someone who had just seen my true face. But then I worried he was hiding his love deep in his heart. I cursed myself. Faelan, Faelan, if you had known this would happen, why did you have to go around telling everyone your grand-master got a facelift? Now his apprentice holds a grudge and lured Caelus into finding my portraits, nearly causing a catastrophe. I shakily picked up the scattered scrolls from the floor. I unrolled one and froze. What the hell is this? It was a white radish beating a tomato with a giant club. It took me a moment to remember. This was what the local villagers had painted: “The Saint Vanquishes the Crimson Fox.” When I told Caelus the title, he asked, confused, “So where is the Saint in this painting?” “The Saint is vanquishing the Crimson Fox.” “So he’s not in the painting?” “Mm, that seems to be the case.” Caelus asked cautiously, “Master, is it possible…” I forced a calm expression and cut him off. “Haha, you don’t think this white radish is me, the club is my sword, and the tomato is the Crimson Fox, do you?” “That would be ridiculous. So, impossible. Absolutely impossible!” Caelus’s expression was complex. He was silent for a long moment before saying, “…If you say so.” I moved on to the next one. The painting that unrolled was stunning: a vast, blue ocean, and a black dragon churning in the waves. It was masterfully done, capturing the ocean’s expanse and the dragon’s majesty. The only problem was, I still couldn’t find myself in the picture. Was it that hard to find a handsome guy like me? Caelus asked, “Master, is the Saint not in this painting either, but is slaying the dragon?” This kid. Can’t he be less obedient at a time like this? He’s even learned to apply logic. The little rebel! I suppressed my anger. “No. This painting is called ‘The Saint’!” “Then where is the Saint?” Yeah, where am I?

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The year I could barely feed myself, I found him in a grimy back alley—a brilliant, scholarship kid who’d been savaged by the world. His eyes were hollow. “Do whatever you want with me.” I did nothing of the sort. I just cleaned him up and helped him into a fresh, white shirt. Then, stammering, I told him, “Just… just live. Please.” Years later, he taught himself everything he needed to get into the country’s top university, eventually becoming its youngest doctoral advisor. One ordinary summer evening, as I was picking him up, he coldly rejected a girl whose smile was as bright as the sun. And for the first time, I heard him ask me, his voice tight with a confusion that terrified me: “What is… liking someone?” When I saw the expensive brooch she had given him clutched in his hand, I knew. It was time for me to leave. 1 As I was packing my last bag, ready to leave, I took one final look at the cramped apartment I’d called home for years. It was small and suffocating. The only good thing about it was the little cactus I’d managed to keep alive on the windowsill. I bent down and placed Nick’s slippers neatly on the top shelf of the shoe rack. With a final, metallic thud, the iron door slammed shut, kicking up a thin cloud of dust in the sunlight. 2 Before Nick left for his lecture, he’d shown me the deed to a property over breakfast. It was a beautiful, spacious new condo right in the heart of downtown. I had no idea how long he must have saved to afford it. “I’ll pay you back,” he’d said. “Slowly.” “You don’t… have to.” The day I saved him, I never expected anything in return. His voice was cool. “Once I’ve paid you back, we’re even.” I silently pushed the plate of stir-fried shrimp and a side of cold vegetables toward him. Nick kept his head down as he ate, but I could still see the sharp, elegant lines of his profile. Looking at him now, I could faintly picture the high school boy he used to be, standing on the auditorium stage, the wind catching his shirt, his silhouette sharp and cool against the light. You don’t always have to announce your love to the world. There’s no rule that says every act of giving must be rewarded. He was finally becoming the person I always knew he could be: brilliant, successful, a distant moon shining brightly. Just having been by his side for so long… that was enough for me. I rested my chin in my palm, watching him, and said, seemingly out of nowhere, “Nick… you have to… keep living well.” It was a shame my stutter had never gotten better. I hoped the men I’d be meeting for blind dates back in my hometown wouldn’t hold it against me. 3 I thought back to that night. “Nick! Wait for me!” A beautiful, vibrant girl waved as she ran toward him. She’d been chasing after him for six months straight. I stood quietly in the shadows of a tree by the gate, admiring her with the same reverence I held for Nick. She was a force of nature, bright as the sun, expressing her love without fear. She came from a perfect, prominent family and had a personality that bubbled with life. Standing together, they looked like they were made for each other. At first, Nick was cold and impatient with her, avoiding her just as he’d always avoided everyone else, including me. But eventually, he began to soften. Only with her would he lower his guard, letting her joke with him, even allowing her casual touches. And then, finally, he came to me, clutching a gift she had pressed into his hands, and asked in a nervous, uncertain voice: “What is… liking someone?” We walked together into the moonlight, his shadow stretching out to cover mine. What did I say to him then? I remember stammering, but my words were earnest. “Liking someone is… I guess… it’s when your heart just… leaps when you see them. When just thinking about them makes you smile.” —”So you’re the one who saved Nick? You’re that pathetic, aren’t you! You like him? Fine, we’ll give you something to like!” The same animals who’d hurt Nick slammed my head into a bucket of filthy water in the girls’ bathroom. “It’s being afraid… of losing everything. It’s feeling every doubt like a knife.” —”Nick! I’m taking you… to the hospital! Don’t you fall asleep! You still have to… pay me back!” In the dead of winter, I screamed until my throat was raw, carrying him on my back—his wrists sliced open, half-unconscious from blood loss—stumbling toward the hospital. “It’s wanting to share… every word, every little thing, with him first.” —”I worked five jobs… I made four hundred dollars. I bought… a cake. Happy birthday, Nick.” I stood in the doorway, holding the cake, so happy I didn’t even take off my shoes, just beaming at him. “It’s… a feeling that’s sour, and frustrating… but also so, so sweet.” The traffic light clicked. I looked up. Nick was looking right into my eyes. 4 Bzzzt! The notification on my phone startled me awake. My cheeks felt itchy. I touched them and realized they were streaked with tears. My dream had been a chaotic blend of past and present, and it took me a long moment to clear my head before I opened the message. It was from Nick. Just two words. [Running late.] I scrolled up. Our entire chat history was just a few sparse, functional messages. Looking at it now, our relationship really was… empty. My stutter made me hate speaking, and Nick’s personality, made worse by what had been done to him, meant he spoke even less. We lived in silence, each lost in our own world. You can’t force someone to like you. And yet, back then, I’d foolishly dreamed that time and persistence could nurture love. It was time to finally let go of that hope. Suddenly, a series of cheerful pings sounded from my phone. [Clara, your advice was amazing! Nick finally agreed to have dinner with me at a real restaurant~] [I was so scared for a second there, I honestly thought you two were together.] [I’ll be sure to bring a gift to thank you in person. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. He won’t be losing out by being with me.] She ended the message with a cute emoji of a character collapsing in happiness. Her joy was so infectious it even brought a small smile to my lips. I was a ghost from Nick’s past. A piece of wreckage from the mud, a constant reminder of his deepest shame, a symbol of his most broken moments. She was different. She would rise with him. Her love was active and warm, and she could offer him resources and connections I never could. They would meet at the summit. Nick was already softening. The sun would eventually melt the ice. I couldn’t stand in the way of him finding someone so much better than me. But in the next second, a single, fat tear splattered onto the screen. I belatedly raised a hand to wipe it away. Pathetic. I couldn’t even properly wipe away my own tears. 5 After a thirty-hour bus ride, I was back in my hometown. The first thing I did was visit my mother’s grave and leave some incense. I sat there for a while before heading back to the small apartment I’d rented. The landlady told me my gambling, drunkard of a father had his leg broken by debt collectors and had skipped town. I didn’t have much baggage, so I was settled in by noon. As I sat on the bed with my eyes closed, all I could see were Nick’s hopeless, empty eyes from that night, his body covered in a sticky, disgusting fluid. He used to tell me, his voice eerily calm, “I want to die.” In our small town, being smart, good-looking, and an orphan was a sin. Especially for a prodigy like Nick, who stood out like a crane among chickens. The story was a cliché. The girlfriend of the biggest asshole in school had a crush on him. When he rejected her, she falsely accused him of harassment. When a group of them cornered him in an alley, even his attempts to fight back were laughable. In the nights that followed, he’d curl into a ball on the bed, his body wracked with tremors he couldn’t control, his own mind trying to destroy itself. Back then, to support him, I worked five jobs, constantly rushing from one to the next. We lived in a rundown apartment where the water and electricity were always being shut off. I’d eat cheap pickled vegetables that cost pennies just to save a few extra dollars for him. Life got a little better after he started earning a salary, but I never wanted to spend his money. I kept working as a kitchen hand in the restaurant downstairs. It’s strange how you are with someone you love. Pride takes over. You never want to feel like you’re beneath them. That afternoon, I found a job in the kitchen of a local diner. The pay in a small town wasn’t great, but it was enough for me. It wasn’t until I finished my shift that I had a chance to check my phone. There were only two messages from Nick. The first one: [Where are you?] The second was sent at four o’clock this morning: [You’ve abandoned me, haven’t you?] The words made my eyes burn. It’s not abandonment. It’s not wanting to drag each other down anymore. I saved him, and he felt obligated to stay by my side. That kind of relationship was twisted from the start. And besides, I was almost thirty. I really did want to settle down. It all sounded so melodramatic. I typed out a long explanation, then deleted it all and sent just three words: [Take care.] There was no reply. When I clicked on his profile, I saw he’d posted something. It was a picture of two hands, fingers intertwined. The caption read: [My future.] He was making it official. Nick had a girlfriend. I stared at it for a long moment, then liked the post. And silently, in my heart, I wished him: Happy birthday, Nick. May you spend every year from now on with the person you love. 6 On my way home, I saw my neighbor fanning the door to his apartment, a frustrated look on his face. The acrid smell of burnt food wafted out. I recognized him. He was the new teacher, here with a volunteer program. We’d nodded to each other a few times. He was refined and elegant, with a gentle voice that didn’t match his eyes—eyes that were far too charming, the kind that promised love and trouble in equal measure. I felt a bit awkward just walking past. As I put the key in my lock, I offered a polite, casual invitation. “You haven’t… eaten yet, have you? You could… come over to my place…” He looked up, his face filled with gratitude. Before I could finish, he said warmly, “That would be wonderful, thank you.” “…” I hadn’t expected him to be so forward. I managed an awkward smile. There was no backing out now. I opened the door and invited him in. With a guest present, I kept the meal simple. But Leo’s reaction was dramatic. After one bite, he actually started to cry. “I’m so sorry,” he explained. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had a proper home-cooked meal. And this is delicious.” “Thank you.” Remembering the burnt smell from his apartment, I just lowered my head and ate, waiting for him to finish and leave. I never expected him to get up and start washing the dishes. I frowned slightly, watching him put on my Winnie-the-Pooh apron and stand with his back to me at the sink. I could see the faint movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the veins on the back of his hands standing out, straining against the fabric of the apron that was clearly too small for him. “…” I looked away, swallowing reflexively. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Leo paused for a second, then continued washing. When he was done, he cleared his throat, finally revealing his true purpose. “Could I… maybe… eat here from now on?” He saw me frown. “I’ll pay you more than the restaurant does,” he said quickly. “Just to cook for me. I’ll do all the dishes, too.” I hesitated. The landlady had told me about him: “That new teacher, your neighbor? He’s already rescued five stray cats and is paying for two local kids’ schooling out of his own pocket.” A man like that couldn’t be a bad person, could he? And besides… being all alone in this place, so familiar yet so foreign… it was harder than I could bear. 7 From that day on, Leo came over every day after work. First, he started bringing fresh ingredients. Then, he started bringing the stray cats he was fostering. “This one can do a backflip,” he’d say with a perfectly straight face. Meanwhile, Nick went from silence to sending me a message every few days, always in the dead of night. [Where’s the hand cream?] [I can’t find that white shirt.] [Did you take the little ceramic dog we made together?] …And so on. At first, I had the patience to reply: [It’s in the drawer of the TV stand. In the small cabinet above the closet. The ceramic dog broke when we moved…] [You should move into the new condo. This place is too far from the university, and it’s not comfortable. Don’t make Isabelle suffer with you. You’re just used to me being around. You’ll have to learn to live on your own eventually.] He would be silent for a while, then send a cold voice message: [Don’t flatter yourself.] I laid everything out for him, but he ignored it all. Leo asked me once, “Is that a close friend?” Who was he? I lowered my eyes, staring blankly at the dough on the cutting board. “Just… someone unimportant.” Leo’s gaze fell on my phone’s wallpaper. It was a photo of a boy and a girl, sitting side-by-side on a swing set, their expressions neutral. It was clearly taken by a stranger. They weren’t close, almost distant, yet something about it made Leo lose all desire to ask any more questions. Late one night, a video call from Nick came through. On the screen, he was pale, curled tightly on the sofa, his eyes losing focus as he stared into the camera. It felt like I’d been struck from behind. I shot up from my chair, a wave of unspeakable panic washing over me. My fingers trembled so violently I could barely hold the phone. “Nick! What… what stupid thing are you doing!” His lips were white. He struggled to lift his eyelids, but they fell heavily shut. He’d lost the fight. The phone tumbled through the air, and the last thing I saw was a horrifying, blinding splash of red. 8 What if Nick died? If he died, what would I do? My body was shaking uncontrollably. I booked the fastest bus ticket I could find, my insides twisting with a fear so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. Just as I finished packing, my phone rang again. I swiped to answer. It was Isabelle. [He’s out of danger, but he’s still unconscious.] [I thought you were with him. He took time off and was at home. He hasn’t eaten in five days.] [I found antidepressants on his coffee table. The doctor said he’s had a severe depressive relapse.] [What on earth happened to him in the past…] I couldn’t read any further. I just stared at the words “severe depressive relapse,” a dull ache spreading from my stomach to my heart. Eventually, I had to grab onto the sofa as my body started to heave with dry, painful retches. “Mom! Please! I’ll be good, I promise! Dad’s a monster, but you still have me!” “I’ll get you out of here, I swear! Don’t jump! Please! Mom!!!” The blare of car horns, the howl of the wind on the rooftop, all deafening. I was back in the hospital, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. Nick had just woken up, his expression vacant. He clenched his fists so tightly the wounds on his wrists threatened to split open again. They both had severe depression. It seemed that even suffering could be a shared experience. I know it’s foolish to tie one person’s life to another’s. Who would even care? But I had no other choice. I looked up, my eyes red, and said to him, “Nick… just pretend… you’re living for me. You have to pay me back. You have to show me what the world looks like… from the top.” What was I even thinking back then? He had such a brilliant future ahead of him. He was finally climbing out of that darkness, and now, because of a few careless words from someone like me, he had nearly thrown it all away, nearly died. I couldn’t save my mother. And I couldn’t save him. My father was right. I was a curse. Anyone who got close to me was doomed.

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