Author: Momo Chan

I longed to alter the tragic fate of the Divine Child, who, a millennium ago, met a gruesome end. Harnessing the System, I became his shadow for five years. Finally, after he inadvertently broke his vows, he agreed to abandon his monastic life and marry me. The night before our wedding, at the Royal Hunting Grounds, assassins struck. In that critical moment, he pushed me aside, choosing instead to shield the Emperor’s beloved Concubine. His sword gleamed, blood staining his pristine white robes, yet not a drop touched his untouched, beloved Concubine. I clutched my shoulder, the wound searing. It was then I finally understood: this love, spanning a thousand years, had to end. I summoned the long-silent System. “I want to go home.” “I no longer wish to alter his fate of being implicated by his pure love, of being dismembered, of having his sacred bones carved out, piece by agonizing piece.” 1 “System, I want to go home.” The long-dormant System, summoned by my plea, swiftly materialized. “Host, are you certain? The journey through time is a one-way trip. Once you return, you cannot go back to the era of Siddhartha, the Divine Child.” The System’s tone betrayed a hint of regret, even pity, for me. After all, it was the System that had sent me across a thousand years, thrusting me into this alien ancient world. I had sought Siddhartha, hoping to change his grim destiny. A bitter smile touched my lips. “I tried…” Siddhartha, the Divine Child, was a revered monk in history, born with sacred bones, his presence as pure and cold as fresh snow. He left behind countless holy scriptures, a distant, ethereal moon in the long night of history. Yet, he died at the age of twenty-five, all for a childhood sweetheart. For five years in this world, I meticulously chronicled every detail of his life, every fleeting expression, every nuanced gesture. Everyone knew that my eyes were solely for Siddhartha. Before I came here, I had studied him for so long. For him, I would have risked everything. I accompanied him through wind and rain, traversing treacherous, muddy mountain paths, simply to visit an ancient, barely accessible temple. For this, I caught a severe fever and broke a leg. I couldn’t comprehend the intricate, archaic scriptures, yet I willingly spent all my savings to purchase rare, sole copies for him, simply to witness him press his hands together in prayer, offering me a fleeting, gentle smile. Finally, on the fifth year, he returned from a royal banquet. He had been poisoned, and in that moment, he broke his monastic vows. He bit my lips. He murmured against my ear. He held me tightly, begging me not to leave him. I remember Siddhartha after he awoke. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire being seemingly fractured. His prayer beads were tightly wrapped around his hand, the veins prominent, as if ready to consume. He chanted his vows repeatedly, self-flagellating, unable to even glance at me. I gasped, a painful, heavy breath. Quietly, I began to dress. “Siddhartha, I’ll go out first…” “Wait!” He frowned, his voice cold, stopping me. “I have broken my vows. I can no longer be a monk.” His voice was light, yet it echoed in my ears for an eternity. “I will marry you.” I stood there, dumbfounded for a long time, before the meaning of Siddhartha’s words truly registered. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum. My very blood seemed to turn into viscous honey. Dizzily, a silly smile plastered on my face, I personally oversaw every detail of our impending wedding. My hands ached as I penned hundreds of invitations with an unfamiliar brush, my calligraphy clumsy. I cut out countless symbols of happiness from red paper. The patterns on my wedding gown felt too vulgar, unfitting for the pure and ethereal Siddhartha, so I redesigned them again and again. Every single detail, I wanted to be perfect. Yet— Our wedding was postponed. I touched the scar on my shoulder, still tender where the wound had scabbed. I forced a smile, wiping away tears that had welled up unnoticed. I found a large sandalwood chest. Into it, I carefully placed everything related to Siddhartha from the past five years: the wedding gown I never had a chance to wear, the meticulously kept journal documenting every detail of his life, even his worn monk’s robes. At eighteen, I was still a naive, idealistic girl, full of grand fantasies. I believed the System had sent me to him so I could find a way to keep him alive before he reached twenty-five. Later, I realized history simply could not be changed. No matter how long I stayed by his side, he would always, just as the historical records stated, sacrifice his life for the Imperial family. “Host, are you truly not staying?” I shook my head. “When can you send me home?” “In five days, the transmission will begin. You have five days to bid farewell to the people here, to leave no regrets…” 2 I entrusted the chest to Aella, my maidservant of five years. “After I leave,” I told her. “Take these to Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine. Consider it a keepsake for her.” Aella held the chest, her brow furrowed with anxious confusion. “Lady Aspen, where are you going? Are you not staying to marry the Divine Child?” Over the years, my profound admiration and relentless pursuit of Siddhartha had been witnessed by all. “Where are you going?” a cool, clear voice interrupted. I turned to see Siddhartha stepping out of his chambers. Moonlight enveloped his pristine white robes, casting a sacred, silvery glow around him. I recalled the first time I saw him; it was a scene much like this. He sat upon a lotus throne, revered by thousands, his slender fingers turning prayer beads as he chanted sutras, blessing all living beings. Just one glance, and I could never tear my eyes away. His gaze, however, had never truly lingered on me. “Nowhere,” I replied. “You know, I don’t know anyone else here.” For five years, my entire world had revolved around him, trying everything I could to change his future. “Just tidying some unnecessary things,” I murmured, my words more for myself than for him. “Asking Aella to dispose of them.” By clearing away these obsessions, I could leave without a single lingering regret. Siddhartha asked no further questions, merely glancing at the now empty hall. He had always been quiet and reserved, only showing a flicker of emotion when discussing scriptures with me, or when seeing someone else. 3 That evening, an urgent knocking echoed at the temple gates. I watched, startled, as Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine, stood at the entrance, dressed in humble maid’s attire. “Your Ladyship, what brings you here?” Lady Seraphina, her face etched with concern, walked directly towards Siddhartha’s chambers, her steps revealing a familiar ease. It was as if she had been here countless times before. “Siddhartha was injured protecting me,” she explained, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I simply couldn’t rest easy.” She then clutched my sleeve, her beautiful eyes glinting mischievously. “You must keep my presence here a secret.” I followed silently behind her, feeling like an unwelcome intruder, as she entered Siddhartha’s room. The moment Siddhartha saw her, the scripture he held slipped from his fingers. He rose abruptly. “Nonsense! What are you doing here?” I had never seen the usually serene Siddhartha so openly furious. His cold, rebuking words instantly brought tears to Lady Seraphina’s eyes. She bit her lip, crystal tears clinging to her lashes, and whimpered, “Why did you get hurt for me…?” “I was afraid no one else could care for you properly. I had to come see you myself to feel at ease.” I stiffened. My heart was yanked, a dull ache spreading through me. I had shared intimacy with Siddhartha, and we were engaged to be married, yet in their eyes, I was utterly insignificant, merely “someone else.” “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave!” Lady Seraphina declared, turning on her heel in a fit of pique. Siddhartha rose so quickly that his leg bumped against the corner of the table. He didn’t pause, grabbing Lady Seraphina’s arm firmly. In the process, the wound I had bandaged and dressed for him just days before reopened. Blood stained the fresh bandage, yet he didn’t notice, his eyes fixed solely on Lady Seraphina. Lady Seraphina gasped, staring at the blood dripping from his fingertips. Large tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Oblivious to my presence, she cupped Siddhartha’s hand, carefully unwrapping the bandage. Her fingers trembling, she applied ointment. I clearly saw the ice in Siddhartha’s eyes melt. Siddhartha, who abhorred being touched, did not withdraw his hand. He gently, tenderly wiped away Lady Seraphina’s tears. “Seraphina,” he murmured, his voice softening, “don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt… And it’s not worth risking your life by sneaking out of the palace. Don’t ever do this again.” His voice grew hoarse. “You are the Emperor’s Concubine. You rightfully belong in the palace, by His Majesty’s side.” Seraphina. That was Lady Seraphina’s intimate given name. For five years, Siddhartha had only ever addressed me by my full name, “Aspen.” This, I realized, was the stark difference. 4 I remembered that night in the meditation hall, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood. Even drugged, his mind clouded, he had tried his best not to touch me. His robes remained undisturbed. In his dark, unfocused eyes, there was only black ice. He had merely used me as an antidote. Thinking back now, his desperate embrace, his pleas for me not to leave… It was all an illusion, a delirium brought on by the drug, mistaking me for someone else. I, foolishly, had been so happy, believing he was simply not good with words, accustomed to asceticism, but that he held a small, unique affection for me. It wasn’t until I witnessed his interaction with Lady Seraphina that I truly understood. His coldness, his detachment from worldly desires, was reserved only for me. 5 I quietly retreated. My nose stung, and I gazed at the hazy, distant moon. A moon that could not be plucked from the sky. So let it remain there, unreachable. From afar, I would offer my silent blessings. Through the closed door, Lady Seraphina’s broken sobs drifted intermittently. “Siddhartha, you know how to wound me so deeply!” she cried. “Do you hate me? I thought you had severed all earthly ties…” “You were forced into the selection for the Royal Concubines back then, weren’t you? Don’t you know who I truly wished to marry?” “You only became a monk after I entered the palace, didn’t you?” I covered my ears, desperate not to hear. But Lady Seraphina’s cries, and his low, comforting murmurs, infiltrated every crevice, piercing my ears, stabbing my heart. Finally, Lady Seraphina’s voice ceased. Then came the sound of a table colliding with something. A long time passed before Lady Seraphina emerged. Her lipstick was smudged. I averted my eyes, forbidding myself to speculate, to grieve over someone who held no consequence for me. Five days left. In five days, I would be able to leave. And never return. Lady Seraphina’s smile was dazzling, yet strangely cutting. She leaned in, as if deliberately wanting me to notice something, and pressed a small bottle of medicine into my hand. “You know, as a Royal Concubine, I cannot often leave the palace,” she purred. “So, I’ll have to trouble you to look after Siddhartha. He has a cold temperament, pushing others away, so please, Lady Aspen, bear with him.” She spoke as if declaring her ownership, introducing Siddhartha to me. I was his nominal “fiancée.” How could it be a “trouble”? Compared to every previous disappointment and hurt, I calmly took the medicine from her hand and nodded in agreement. Siddhartha rushed out after her, his expression surprisingly anxious. I felt a faint, bitter laugh bubble up within me. He believed I would make things difficult for the pure love he cherished in his heart. But what right did I have? “Lady Seraphina and I have no intimate connection,” Siddhartha explained, for the first time, to me. “She came only out of gratitude for my saving her.” My gaze fell, landing directly on the lipstick stain on his pristine white robe. A vibrant, almost defiant color, like a delicate begonia blooming on his shoulder. I still felt a catch in my throat. “It seems the Concubine’s comfort was effective.” Siddhartha, noticing the lipstick mark, his face subtly shifting, frowned and vigorously tried to rub it off. “Aspen, it’s not what you think.” His voice returned to its usual composed tone, tinged with a hint of helpless exasperation, as if I were being unreasonable. “The Concubine merely tripped over the table, almost falling, and I simply helped her. Her lipstick just rubbed onto my robes.” Siddhartha’s cool eyes fixed on mine. In the years I had been by his side, I had grown somewhat insecure, constantly haunted by the historical accounts of his tragic end. Because I had come solely for him, he couldn’t possibly understand. I still remembered Siddhartha, like the pure white snow on a mountain peak, radiating compassion. He had said, word for word, “My heart is devoted to the Dharma, and it shall never change. I will never fall into the worldly abyss for anyone.” I stood outside the temple, having heard his words, and did not return to his side. That was when I first tried to summon the System to leave, but it did not respond. When Siddhartha found me, my eyes were swollen from crying. His profound features held no emotion, nor did he offer comfort. After a long time, when my sobs had dissolved into hiccups, he spoke calmly, “I’ve prepared the vegetarian meal. It will get cold if we don’t go back now, and cold vegetarian meals are not palatable.” I returned to his side. I thought I always would leave. He was so anxious about Lady Seraphina’s reputation. I closed my red-rimmed eyes. Since I was leaving anyway, why should I care so much? “Siddhartha, I believe you. I believe there’s nothing between you and Lady Seraphina.” 6 Late into the silent night, I unlaced my gown and applied ointment to my shoulder. Even today, Siddhartha remained unaware. On the day of the Royal Hunting Grounds, I too had been wounded. An assassin’s sword had pierced my arm, blood soaking through my clothes. It hurt so much, so terribly! After kicking me away, the assassin had sneered at me: “I heard that the Divine Child, Siddhartha, broke his vows for you, willing to forsake his monastic life and marry you. Yet, at the moment of life and death, the one he cared for, the one he saved, was not you!” “Tsk, tsk. You even thought to use your life to threaten him. Clearly, you’re not so important after all.” It was all just rumors. The Divine Child’s heart had never wavered. I couldn’t change anything. That day, I wore an ochre-red silk gown. The blood that flowed out was barely visible to others. My face was deathly pale. I strained to look towards Siddhartha. The moment the assassin lunged towards the Emperor’s side, Siddhartha made his choice. He violently pushed away my grasping hand, letting me fall to the ground, scraping my elbow. He grasped the sword, his hand closing around the blade, deflecting it from Lady Seraphina. Blood dripped from his fingers; even from a distance, it seared my eyes. Each drop fell onto his pristine white robes. All the chaos on the ground, the blood… was shielded by his tall, resolute figure. It was Lady Seraphina who reacted first. She suppressed the anxiety on her face, still feigning unfamiliarity with Siddhartha. Lady Seraphina stammered, holding back tears, her voice reaching my ears: “Divine Child, you need not save me. You should first save Lady Aspen.” Siddhartha did not glance my way, his voice cool and detached: “Her Ladyship’s life is more important than hers.” The medicinal powder stung the wound on my shoulder. I gasped, a sharp intake of breath. I finally understood: true affection could not be feigned. One would instinctively risk their life to protect the person they truly cared for! Recalling that scene at the hunting grounds, even now, as I decided to leave, a bitter ache still lingered in my heart. But it no longer mattered. Once I left this era, I would completely forget him, wouldn’t I? 7 From my sleeve, I pulled out the last item belonging to Siddhartha. It was a string of blood-red prayer beads. When the System first sent me to this era, I had dropped from the sky, still wearing strange, modern clothes. The villagers murmured, reporting me to the authorities, intending to have me arrested for questioning. I hid, dodging their pursuit, until I saw Siddhartha, pure and serene, seated on a lotus throne, chanting scriptures and offering blessings. When he prepared to return to the temple, I finally appeared before him. “Divine Child, can you save me just this once?” I pleaded. “I will repay you!” Siddhartha said nothing. He simply allowed me to hide in his palanquin. The palanquin was small, and we were pressed closely together. His cool robes, imbued with the scent of sandalwood, brushed against my face, filling me with a lingering sense of melancholy. I mourned for the historically famous figure who would one day fall. As he departed, Siddhartha slipped the prayer beads from his wrist and gave them to me. “This is my token. The officials will not trouble you if they see it.” I caressed the warm, smooth beads in my hand. No matter how much lingering attachment I had, it was time to sever it. The day before I left, I found Siddhartha. I held out the string of prayer beads that had never left my wrist, offering them to him. I had initially intended to seal them in the chest, but these prayer beads, it was said, were a relic passed down to him by his master. After some thought, I decided it was best to return them to him personally. “These prayer beads are too precious,” I said. “I no longer have need of them, so I’m returning them to you. My apologies for causing you so much trouble all this time.” Siddhartha was deep in meditation. At my words, he suddenly opened his clear, profound eyes. “You don’t want them?” His voice seemed a fraction more urgent. I thought I must have misheard. I smiled and nodded. “Yes. It’s your master’s prayer beads; it’s not fitting for me to keep wearing them. When you meet someone more important in the future, you can give them to her.” This was my last farewell to him. The System had told me not to leave any regrets. I expected him to say something to me, even just a question. But he asked nothing. After a cool nod, he took the prayer beads from my hand. Historical records stated that he was born with sacred bones, destined for monastic life. I took one last, lingering look at Siddhartha’s features, as cold and sharp as carved ice. He truly looked like a living Buddha seated on a lotus throne, devoid of all human emotion. This was for the best. As if I had never appeared at all. 8 On my final day before the System transported me away, an imperial decree arrived from the palace, summoning both Siddhartha and me for an audience with the Emperor. On the way to the main hall, I suddenly twisted my ankle. The palace attendants instructed me to rest in the Royal Gardens while they went to fetch a palanquin. I sat quietly behind a cluster of flowering shrubs. There, I saw Lady Seraphina, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. Apart from that one time she secretly snuck out of the palace and was rebuked by Siddhartha, she had never dared to leave the palace again. She wore a lavish palace gown, accompanied by her maidservant, looking rather despondent as she admired the flowers. After ensuring no one else was nearby, Lady Seraphina caressed a flower branch and murmured, “I wonder how much longer it will be before I can see Siddhartha again. He is about to abandon his monastic life and marry… What reason will I have left to visit him then?” Lady Seraphina forced a pale smile. “Sometimes, I selfishly wish he would remain a monk his entire life, devoted to the solitary lamp and ancient scriptures. If he cannot belong to me, then he should not belong to any other woman.” Her maid, likely her confidante, consoled her. “Your Ladyship, do you not already know why the Divine Child is forsaking his vows, why he is marrying that woman?” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially. “It’s all for you, Your Ladyship!” “At the imperial banquet, someone deliberately set a trap for Your Ladyship. The Divine Child, upon learning of it, specifically swapped the wine cups and drank the poisoned wine himself. This servant created an opportunity for you to be alone with him, yet he preferred to bite his own tongue until it bled rather than touch Your Ladyship, using your precious body as an antidote. He firmly sent Your Ladyship back to the palace, and only after confirming your safety did he leave.” “That shameless woman, who has followed the Divine Child for five years, constantly clinging to him, is merely his antidote. Why should Your Ladyship concern yourself with her existence? If the Divine Child had truly harbored feelings for her, he would not have allowed her to remain by his side for five years, only to offer to marry her out of obligation after that incident.” I raised my cold hand and rubbed my stiff, numb face. I knew in my heart that I was merely Siddhartha’s “antidote,” but hearing it spoken so contemptuously by others was an entirely different experience. He was unwilling to sully or contaminate his “pure love,” unwilling to subject her to gossip within the palace, so he chose me. I limped on my sprained ankle, following Siddhartha in a daze to the main hall. The Emperor, majestic and smiling, spoke, “You, as a man of the cloth, bravely risked your life to protect my beloved Concubine. For this, you have rendered great service. I hear you broke your monastic vows for a woman named Aspen. I grant you permission to return to secular life, and I bestow upon you and that woman my imperial blessing for marriage!” This was an immense honor, like a thunderbolt, exploding within the grand hall. Siddhartha, who was kneeling before me, lifted his face in disbelief, his body under his robes suddenly rigid. Actually, Siddhartha didn’t need to be so distressed. I was leaving soon; I wouldn’t entangle him further, nor would I marry him. “I respectfully ask His Majesty to retract the decree,” I said, standing up, ignoring the myriad gazes fixed upon me. “This commoner does not wish to marry him.” I continued, “This commoner does not belong here and will soon depart…” Siddhartha’s cool demeanor shattered like broken jade, cracking inch by agonizing inch. His eyes were wide with shock, and the corners of his eyes were faintly red as he looked at me. “Aspen, what are you saying?” 9 “Where are you going?” Siddhartha’s face was ashen, as if he had been struck by lightning. He was like a shattered jade Buddha, revealing the panic hidden within. He gripped my wrist, his fingers white, pressing painfully into my skin. I hadn’t even had a chance to speak. A palace attendant, frantic, burst into the hall. “Your Majesty, Lady Seraphina collapsed just outside the hall!” She didn’t want the Emperor to bestow the marriage. Actually, I had never truly hoped to marry Siddhartha; I just wanted to try and change his fate. I was an outsider from the beginning, so it was best to return him to her. The Emperor, overcome with concern, immediately left the hall to see to Lady Seraphina. Others followed, leaving the grand hall empty. Only Siddhartha remained, his eyes red-rimmed, still clutching my wrist, refusing to let go. If only he had tried to keep me earlier… I smiled at him, my gaze falling on his hand wrapped in prayer beads. “The Concubine collapsed. Aren’t you going to check on her?” It was too tiring, seeing him abandon me again and again to rush to Lady Seraphina’s side. Siddhartha’s serene face was taut. He lowered his gaze, revealing a flicker of panic and vulnerability. “Aspen, I won’t do it again!” His voice was hoarse. “I… I ruined your purity, I am honor-bound to take responsibility! I will accept the Imperial marriage decree…” He tightened his grip on my wrist. “Just as we agreed before, I will leave my monastic life and marry you!” I chuckled softly, interrupting him. “Divine Child, you chose me only because you were drugged. I was merely an ‘antidote,’ nothing more. You don’t need to trouble yourself over it.” Siddhartha’s face grew even paler, as if a sharp thorn had pierced his heart. His voice trembled slightly as he called my name, urgent. “Aspen, it’s not like that! I had actually made my choice long before! The drug didn’t completely cloud my mind; I know exactly what I did and what I said!” “It’s not that I didn’t want to marry you. It’s just that I couldn’t come to terms with it myself; I had allowed worldly desires to sway me…” “My feelings for Lady Seraphina are purely gratitude! When I was young and destitute, the Vance family offered me kindness. I promised Lord Vance I would protect Lady Seraphina, that’s all it ever was.” “What you heard was not the truth, Aspen. Why didn’t you ask me? After she entered the palace, I never harbored any improper thoughts!” “Aspen, I can tell you, I regard Lady Seraphina as a benefactor, as a sister I need to protect, but not as a romantic interest…” From outside the palace hall, a collective sigh of relief echoed. “Wonderful! Her Ladyship has awakened!” Lady Seraphina, awakening in the Emperor’s arms, instinctively, weakly called out Siddhartha’s name, again and again. Siddhartha’s body instantly tensed, afraid to turn back. Outside the grand hall, the crowd gathered around the Concubine held their breath. Lady Seraphina’s maid knelt. “Your Majesty, Her Ladyship has been fainting frequently recently, with no discernible cause. There are rumors of malevolent spirits troubling the Inner Palace, many of the palace staff have witnessed them… The Divine Child, Siddhartha, with his profound Buddhist teachings and deep cultivation, is the very one Her Ladyship wished to invite into the palace to dispel these ill omens.” Lady Seraphina, now awake and nestled in the Emperor’s arms, looked towards Siddhartha. “His Majesty, it is precisely so. My body has grown weaker and weaker lately. I heard His Majesty was about to bestow a marriage upon the Divine Child, so I wanted to seize the opportunity to invite the Divine Child to the palace to dispel evil. Who knew I would collapse again right at the palace entrance?” Others might not have noticed. But I heard it clearly: Lady Seraphina emphasized the words “bestow a marriage” with particular weight. The frozen tension in the air finally dissipated. The Emperor, doting on his beloved Concubine, agreed to let Siddhartha go to her palace to dispel evil.

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1 The night before the art competition, Johnny Blackwood was dragged into a dark alley by a gang of thugs. When found, his hands were crushed, left ear deafened, and he’d need a catheter for life – meaning he could never paint again. His doting sister Sarah vowed revenge, while his fiancée Veronica summoned top doctors. But on the third day, wheelchair-bound Johnny overheard them at the hallway corner: “You promised they’d just make him miss the competition!” Veronica’s voice trembled. Before Johnny could process this, Sarah’s cool voice followed: “The thugs went too far, but this works. The championship must go to Leo now.” “But—” “No buts. Johnny’s always been the golden boy – he’ll live comfortably even crippled. But Leo…that adopted boy’s been walking on eggshells his whole life. This art title is all he has. Johnny’s talent was in the way.” Her voice hardened. “I won’t let anyone block Leo’s path.” “Veronica, we’re best friends, closer than sisters. Men are… expendable. I know you love Johnny, and you’re getting married soon, but didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t let your feelings for Johnny jeopardize Leo’s future?” Veronica fell silent for a long, agonizing moment, then sighed in what sounded like reluctant surrender, as if trying to convince herself. “I understand. Johnny’s in pain every day, he can’t sleep. Make sure the doctors give him the strongest painkillers.” They extinguished their cigarettes, their footsteps fading into the distance. Silence, thick and suffocating, descended around Johnny. All he could hear was the sound of his own heart exploding. So, the thugs in the alley that day weren’t an accident. It was a meticulously orchestrated slaughter. And the ones holding the knives were the two people he trusted most in the world. Johnny’s lips parted. He wanted to scream, to cry out his agony! But the torrent of grief and despair that rose to his throat emerged only as a pathetic whimper. Until today, Johnny had clung to a fragile hope, repeating to himself, “It’s okay.” Despite the most horrific ordeal, he still had his sister, his fiancée, the two women who supposedly loved him most. Yet now, they had personally confirmed it: his living hell, his shattered body, his fragmented, bleeding heart—all of it was their doing! Tears blurred his vision. He sat in his wheelchair, trembling uncontrollably, the pain so intense it threatened to rip him apart. He couldn’t comprehend how it had come to this. He had once been the Blackwood family’s brightest jewel. Sarah had raised him with tender devotion, never uttering a harsh word. Veronica had indulged his every whim, proclaiming since childhood that she’d marry no one but him. Johnny had lived like a carefree sunbeam, believing others would always shield him from life’s storms. Until he was fourteen. That year, his parents welcomed Leo, the orphaned son of a deceased friend, into their home. The skinny, timid boy, clad in a faded shirt, stood in the Blackwood living room, head bowed, murmuring, “Brother Johnny.” Young Johnny, in his innocence, had even given him his favorite toy car, utterly unaware that this “poor” Leo would become the most agonizing torment of his life. At first, it was small things. Leo shattered his mother’s antique vase, then, with tear-filled eyes, claimed Johnny had done it. Leo misplaced his competition entry form, then, with a pained expression, insisted it was an accident. And each time, Sarah would frown and say, “Johnny, don’t make a fuss.” Veronica would rub her temples and urge, “Leo didn’t mean to, Johnny, just let him have it.” Then things grew increasingly absurd. The competition he’d spent three months preparing for, its winner’s list bore Leo’s name. The final exhibition he’d tirelessly painted for, it was Leo who stood in the spotlight. He felt like a glass bottle slowly being drained of air, watching helplessly as everything that was his was systematically slipped into Leo’s pocket. The most ridiculous part was that he genuinely believed it was his fault, that he wasn’t good enough. But today, a terrifying clarity settled over him. From the very beginning, every precious thing he cherished had been personally handed to Leo by the two people he trusted most. His excellence was a flaw, his talent a sin. His very existence was merely a stepping stone for Leo. But Veronica was his fiancée! Sarah was his own sister! And Leo? He was just an adopted son! After his parents’ passing, they had become his sole refuge. Yet now, they had personally destroyed him! Johnny no longer knew why he should continue living in this world, not like this… He drifted in a daze, his trembling hands pushing the wheels of his chair. Just as he was about to make a desperate decision, to let himself and the wheelchair tumble down the stairs, his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. A string of unfamiliar numbers flashed on the screen. Johnny let it ring for a long time before finally answering. “Hello?” “Mr. Blackwood.” A deep male voice answered from the other end. “We are the Nova Pharmaceutical Institute.” “…What is it?” “We’ve heard about the various… unfortunate incidents you’ve experienced,” the voice said softly. “Perhaps you’d be willing to become a test subject for us?” Johnny laughed, a hollow, broken sound that dissolved into tears. “Am I not miserable enough already?” “No. Our new drug… it can grant you a rebirth.” “…What?” “Bone regeneration, hearing restoration, even…” He paused. “It can allow you to return to a normal life, to stand in the spotlight once more.” Johnny’s heart gave a violent jolt. “Why me?” “Because,” the voice fell silent for a moment, then spoke each word distinctly, “only those who have been utterly destroyed are worthy of true resurrection.” Johnny’s body stiffened abruptly, and he finally halted the wheelchair’s movement. He stared blankly out the window, the sunlight so blinding it brought fresh tears to his eyes. A moment later, he clutched his phone tightly. “All right. I accept!” 2 The person on the other end sounded genuinely pleased, promising to pick him up soon. After agreeing, Johnny silently hung up the phone and returned to his hospital room, pretending as if he’d heard nothing out of the ordinary. The days that followed were a blur of excessive kindness from Veronica and Sarah, right up until his discharge. On the day he was leaving, Veronica knelt, carefully helping him put on his cotton socks. Her long, slender fingers meticulously avoided the injuries on his legs, her touch as gentle as if she were handling fragile porcelain. “Does it hurt?” She looked up, her deep eyes overflowing with concern. Johnny shook his head, numbly. “The discharge papers are all handled.” Sarah pushed open the door, holding a brand-new jacket. “It’s windy outside, Johnny. Bundle up.” As she leaned over to drape the jacket around him, Johnny caught a familiar citrus scent. It was the same scent from the perfume he’d given her for her eighteenth birthday. A sudden wave of nausea churned in his stomach. He bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from retching right then and there. The wheelchair rolled across the polished floor of the hospital lobby, and Johnny could feel the gazes from all directions. The catheter bag hung discreetly on the side of the chair, making a faint rustling sound with each movement. A passerby looked at it with curious eyes, and Sarah immediately shot them a cold glare. “What are you staring at?” Veronica’s warm hand covered his eyes. “Don’t be afraid.” Her voice was impossibly soft, dripping with false comfort. “We’ll protect you.” Johnny trembled, unsure if it was from fury or sorrow. If he hadn’t overheard their conversation with his own ears, how could he possibly believe that these two women, who outwardly showered him with such care, were the very demons who had shoved him into hell? “Johnny, wait here for a moment,” Veronica said, pushing his wheelchair to a shaded spot near the entrance. “We’ll go get the car.” Watching their retreating figures, Johnny suddenly turned his wheelchair. He’d rather crawl away than accept their hollow pretense of care. Just as his wheelchair rounded the hospital corner, familiar voices drifted from a secluded corner of the parking lot. “Have all the ugly rumors about Johnny been leaked?” Sarah’s voice was chillingly sharp. “Yes.” Veronica’s response was hesitant. “But Johnny’s already in such a bad state. Do we really need to fabricate these humiliating rumors about him?” “Of course, we do!” Sarah’s voice turned harsh. “Only by completely destroying his reputation in the art world can we ensure he’ll never pose a threat to Leo again!” The wheelchair slammed violently into the wall. Johnny clapped a hand over his mouth, the metallic taste of blood spreading in his mouth. They not only wanted to ruin his life, but also to tarnish his name? He spun his wheelchair frantically, desperate to escape, but instead, he collided headfirst into a throng of reporters gathered at the hospital entrance. “Mr. Blackwood! Is it true that your injuries are a result of you maintaining ambiguous relationships with multiple women?” “Can you explain your ties to those women?” “As a once distinguished artist, don’t you feel ashamed of such a dissolute lifestyle?” At that moment, a frenzied mob of fans suddenly surged forward, pushing through the crowd. They began assaulting him, shouting obscenities. “Johnny Blackwood, I was blind to ever like you! You’re absolutely disgusting!” “Johnny Blackwood, I’m going to rip your face off!” Someone started it, and soon, countless hands began tearing at his clothes, slapping his face. “No… no… don’t touch me!” Johnny shrieked in terror, pushing away the grasping, filthy hands, but it was useless. Riiip! With the sound of tearing fabric, Johnny was exposed, his ragged clothes revealing the grotesque tapestry of fresh wounds that marred his skin. A wave of profound humiliation washed over him. His breathing hitched, choking him with pain. “Ugh, how sickening! He’s even wearing a catheter!” “Oh my god, quick, take pictures and post them online! Let everyone see how filthy their new artistic male god is in private!” After a momentary silence, disgusted murmurs and sneers erupted, like a barrage of stinging slaps that made his ears ring. Johnny heard nothing more. Large tears streamed down his cheeks, the salty drops stinging his raw wounds like biting ants. “Get out! All of you, get out!” Veronica’s voice suddenly bellowed. She charged into the crowd, shielding him with her body. Sarah, her face grim and furious, roughly pushed reporters aside. They worked together so seamlessly, so convincingly, that Johnny couldn’t find a single flaw in their performance. But only he knew this entire spectacle had been meticulously orchestrated by their own hands. They wanted to crucify him on the pillar of shame, utterly ruining his reputation, making him live like a rat in a sewer, forever hidden from the light. And Leo, their cherished “prince,” would stand on the most dazzling stage, basking in the adoration and praise of the world. Clearly, they had succeeded! 3 Back at the Blackwood family manor, Leo was waiting at the entrance. He wore Johnny’s favorite pale blue hoodie, his hair styled into the very same wolf-tail cut that had once been Johnny’s signature look. “Brother!” he chirped, scampering over, his face etched with a veneer of false concern. “I’m so sorry, the competition was so hectic, I’ve only just managed to come see you.” Sarah and Veronica’s eyes immediately lit up. “How was the competition?” Leo strode into the living room, triumphantly holding aloft a gleaming gold trophy. “First place! The judges said my painting was flawless!” Johnny stared fixedly at the trophy that should have been his. A phantom pain flared in his left hand. He remembered the last time he’d stood on a competition stage, brush in hand, painting freely under the spotlight. But now, thanks to his own sister and fiancée, even standing was an impossible dream. The three of them huddled around the trophy, laughing and chatting, completely oblivious to the crippled man in the wheelchair. Johnny pushed his own chair towards the elevator. Leo immediately hurried after him, offering, “Let me help you, brother…” When they reached the third floor and stepped out of the elevator, Leo suddenly leaned close to Johnny’s ear. “Brother, you’re so disgusting, with that catheter bag. Tell me, when Sister Veronica touches you later, will she smell stale urine?” Johnny’s face went white. Before he could speak, Leo suddenly shrieked, “No, brother!” then dramatically arched his back, tumbling down the stairs. “Leo!” “What happened?!” When Sarah and Veronica rushed over, Leo was curled on the floor, sobbing. “Sister Sarah, Sister Veronica, it’s not brother’s fault… he’s just so upset… he said why should his hands and legs be ruined when I can still live normally…” “Johnny Blackwood! Are you out of your mind?!” Sarah grabbed the wheelchair’s handle, her grip so strong that the metal groaned under the strain. She leaned in close, her eyes, which had always gazed at him so tenderly, now burned with fury. “Do you have any idea what his legs mean to a dancer, Leo?” Johnny looked up at his sister, and a bitter laugh escaped him. The mirth never reached his eyes, instead making his pale face appear even more gaunt. “So, Sister knows, too,” he murmured, his fingers unconsciously tracing his numb legs. “Knows how important legs are to a dancer.” Veronica stood by, her long fingers clenched into fists. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but seeing Leo’s swollen ankle, she clamped her lips shut. “Apologize.” Sarah’s voice was as cold as ice. “Apologize to Leo, now.” The boy in the wheelchair straightened his back, just as he had done a thousand times on stage. “Why should I apologize? He fell on his own.” The air in the hallway solidified. Leo suddenly sniffled, then limped forward. “It’s okay, Sister Sarah… Brother’s just in a bad mood, I understand…” “Leo!” Sarah held him, her voice thick with concern. “You’re just too understanding.” Johnny turned his wheelchair, the metal wheels grinding a grating sound against the marble floor. He didn’t want to watch this farce any longer, nor did he want to see the triumphant gleam in Leo’s eyes. Night fell. Johnny leaned against the headboard, staring out at the stark moonlight. The bedroom door creaked open, and Veronica entered, carrying a glass of milk. “Johnny, drink some milk, it’ll help you sleep.” She placed the glass on the nightstand, her voice soft. “Come on, be a good boy, finish it all.” The moment the door closed, Johnny’s eyes turned completely cold. He picked up the milk, then unhesitatingly poured it into a potted plant. Around midnight, a rustling sound startled him from his shallow sleep. He squinted, seeing a dark silhouette standing by his bed. “Johnny?” Veronica’s voice was barely a whisper. Johnny held his breath, his body rigid as a corpse. After confirming he was unresponsive, a pair of large hands suddenly grabbed him roughly, and a burlap sack was yanked over his head! “Mmph!” He struggled instinctively but was slammed hard onto the floor. The searing pain of his spine hitting the ground made his vision swim, but he bit down on his lip, refusing to make a sound. “Sarah, aren’t we going too far?” Veronica’s voice trembled. “Johnny’s legs are already like this, and you want me to drug him, then tie him up and bring him here to support Leo?” “Feeling bad?” Sarah’s cold laugh felt like a knife twisting in Johnny’s gut. “He wasn’t gentle when he pushed Leo. Anyway, his hands and legs are numb, a few blows will serve as a lesson.” The rough burlap scratched his skin. Johnny clenched his fists, knuckles white. They were right; his legs truly felt no pain. But his heart felt as if it were being torn in two. “Do it.” Sarah commanded, her voice icy. When the first blow landed, Johnny heard a dull thud from his leg bones. The second, the third… he was tossed around like a broken rag doll, repeatedly struck. “Ugh…” A cry of pain, finally escaping his tightly clenched teeth. The thudding of the stick abruptly ceased. “Who’s there?!” Sarah’s voice shot up, piercing the silence. The next second, Johnny felt trembling hands grab the edge of the burlap sack, slowly peeling it back… 4 “Meow!” A sharp, piercing cat’s cry sliced through the night air, and Sarah’s hand, which had been peeling back the burlap sack, suddenly froze. Veronica let out a long, shaky breath. “Just a stray cat.” In the darkness, Johnny’s nails dug deep into his palms, blood oozing from between his fingers, leaving dark red stains on the sack. … Morning light spilled through the curtains, bathing the room. Johnny quietly observed the fresh bruises blooming on his legs. “What happened here?” He pointed to the jarring marks, his voice unnervingly calm. Sarah’s gaze flickered. “Perhaps… you didn’t sleep well last night, and fell out of bed?” Veronica quickly interjected, changing the subject. “Johnny, your birthday is next week. What do you want for a gift?” She knelt, gently taking his hand just as she used to. “How about I throw you the grandest birthday party?” Johnny remembered his birthdays before he turned fourteen. He’d wear a custom-made suit, Sarah would personally fasten a necklace around his neck, and Veronica would be waiting in the luxurious car gifted to him, clutching a bouquet of flowers. But everything had changed since Leo arrived. The favored one at the party became Leo. “No need,” he said softly. “Of course, we will!” they both exclaimed in unison, their eyes shining with a fervor that suggested genuine concern. Veronica knelt down, taking his hand. “We’re going to throw you the grandest party.” In the following days, Sarah and Veronica were rarely home, leaving early and returning late. Even Leo was nowhere to be seen. Johnny watched their dusty, tired appearances with cold detachment. Until his birthday arrived— “Johnny, these are the clothes and accessories I’ve prepared for you.” Veronica hastily placed a delicate gift box on the bed. “I’ll go set up your special seat. Once you’re changed, we’ll leave.” After the door closed, Johnny noticed Veronica’s phone lying on the bed. The moment the screen lit up, his blood ran cold. It was a group chat, the glaring name “Little Prince and His Two Princesses.” The latest message was a photo from Leo: Sister Veronica, Sister Sarah, do my clothes look good today? Johnny’s trembling fingers scrolled upwards: a selfie of Leo at the Eiffel Tower; a photo of Sarah arm-in-arm with him, eating ice cream; a video of Veronica fastening a limited-edition watch on his wrist… So, all their “preparations” these past few days had merely been an excuse for a trip to Europe with Leo. And the formal wear in his hands now? The tag clearly read “Complimentary Gift.” Tears splattered onto the phone screen. Johnny mechanically put it back. When Veronica returned, she seemed surprised to find him still unchanged. Just as she was about to speak, he said softly, “My legs are too ugly. I don’t want to change.” “Don’t say that.” Veronica cradled his face in her hands, her expression heartbroken. “You’ll always be my little prince.” With that, she instructed the staff to help Johnny change into the formal wear and accessories, then pushed him into the car. The banquet hall glittered with opulence, yet no one spared a glance for the birthday boy in the wheelchair. Sarah remained at Leo’s side throughout, helping him cut the cake, while Veronica fussed over his hair. Johnny felt like an outsider, watching his own birthday party transform into another boy’s grand showcase. Suddenly, the ground beneath them lurched violently! “Earthquake!” The crowd instantly erupted into chaos. Johnny watched, paralyzed, as Sarah and Veronica simultaneously dashed towards Leo. His wheelchair was knocked over. As the ceiling crashed down, he heard Veronica’s distant cry: “Johnny—” Darkness swallowed everything. “Aftershocks are coming! Both young masters are trapped, who do we rescue first?” A frantic rescue worker’s voice pierced the debris. “Mr. Blackwood’s position is more dangerous, if he’s not rescued immediately, he might need an amputation!” “Then let it be,” Sarah’s voice was terrifyingly calm, “Rescue Leo first.” 5 “Are you insane?” Veronica’s voice was trembling. “Johnny is already crippled! He loves himself so much, and you want him to lose his legs? Do you want him to die?” “Veronica, I know you love Johnny, but don’t forget, five years ago, during that fire, who rescued us from the blaze? If it weren’t for Leo, risking his life to save us, you and I would be dead!” Johnny’s eyes widened in the debris. Five years ago, it had been him who had desperately dragged them out of that fire! But they had mistaken it for Leo? So… this was the reason for their favoritism towards Leo?! Finally, after much heated argument, the two women reached an agreement. “Rescue Leo first!” Johnny lay in the darkness, his eyes wide open, watching the searchlight beams of the rescue team gradually recede. Their retreating figures, cradling Leo, were so hasty they didn’t even glance back at the wreckage. When the aftershock struck, the ceiling collapsed with a thunderous roar, and his last shred of consciousness, too, was utterly extinguished. Johnny opened his eyes in agonizing pain, the glaring white fluorescent lights on the ceiling stinging them with tears. He instinctively reached for his legs— Thank goodness, they were still there. “Half an hour later, and you would have lost those legs.” The nurse said, changing his dressing. “Mr. Blackwood, you’re incredibly lucky to be alive.” Johnny stared at the pristine white ceiling, a smile stretching his lips that was more grotesque than a sob. Lucky? He wished he had died in that earthquake. The ward door was suddenly flung open, and Sarah and Veronica burst in, looking disheveled, their faces etched with a carefully crafted “concern.” “Johnny!” Sarah grabbed his hand. “It was so chaotic then, we didn’t see you…” Veronica knelt by the bed, delicately stroking his plaster-casted leg. “Johnny, I’m so sorry. Next time, I absolutely won’t let you out of my sight.” Johnny slowly withdrew his hand, his eyes hollow like stagnant water. He didn’t want to hear these clumsy lies, not a single word. “Johnny?” Veronica finally sensed something was wrong, and her voice began to tremble. “Will you say something, please?” Silence. For three whole days, Johnny remained like an exquisite puppet, neither crying nor laughing, nor speaking. Sarah finally panicked and forcibly took him for a full body check-up. “Physical indicators are basically normal,” the doctor pushed up his glasses. “I suggest a consultation with the psychology department.” After the door to the psychology clinic closed, Sarah irritably exclaimed, “Is it really that serious? To actually need a psychologist!” Veronica slammed her fist against the wall, blood seeping from her knuckles. “Small matter? He’s crippled, can no longer pursue his passion, and has to live with a catheter for life! Do you think that’s a small matter? A perfectly healthy person, driven to this by us…” She gripped Sarah’s collar, her eyes red. “Sarah Blackwood, Johnny is the man I’ve loved for half my life! That was the last time I listened to you. Even if Leo saved me, my debt to him is paid. From now on, I will never listen to you if it means hurting Johnny!” “He’s my brother!” Sarah roared. “Do you think I want to treat him like this? It’s all for Leo!” She slumped, releasing her grip. “Fine, fine. Anyway, Leo’s got his championship, and Johnny won’t stand in his way anymore. From now on, we’ll just be good to him.”

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The elevator doors closed behind me. When I reached the first floor, I rushed to my car and drove straight home. I ignored my mom’s texts about wedding venues, just staring at the clock. Time passed. Mia came back with lavender and takeout – shrimp tortellini soup, forgetting my allergy. “Eat up,” she said. I ate every shrimp. The rash spread up my arms. “Oh no! Are you allergic?” Mia gasped. I didn’t care. “Come celebrate your birthday with me tomorrow,” I said. Mia hesitated, then nodded. I went to get my allergy meds. I’m a terrible cook. The only thing I can make is birthday pasta. But tonight, I kept messing up. Bowl after bowl ruined. I ate them all anyway. I’d planned to leave after celebrating her birthday. She never came. Just called. “Alex, that clumsy idiot, burned his finger cooking. I have to take him to the ER first. You go ahead and eat.” Mia’s lies were always so transparent. My main social media account was blocked from seeing her posts, but my burner account lit up with a new update. The photo showed them, side-by-side, in front of a cake, streamers fluttering. It was a frozen moment: them, laughing, holding hands. “Hello? Hello?” Mia hadn’t hung up yet. I let out a slow breath. “No worries. Take your time.” My burner account ‘liked’ her post. The birthday pasta, uneaten, went straight into the trash. Mia had no love left for me. And if I let go, she’d probably be thrilled. I dragged my suitcase out of the house, leaving it all behind. On the way, I organized all the private, incriminating photos of Alex and Mia from years of their ‘ambiguous’ relationship. Then I posted them to my social media feed, where all their mutual friends would see. I was leaving, and I wasn’t going to make it easy for them. Just before the plane took off, I sent Mia a text: “Happy Birthday. Goodbye forever.” I didn’t say ‘we’re breaking up.’ After seven years, she’d never once publicly acknowledged me as her boyfriend. Maybe I deserved to be cuckolded. Maybe I was just blind, stubbornly fixated on her. The second before I powered down my phone, it exploded with calls. I accidentally swiped to answer one. “Ryan, what the hell did you post on your social media? Delete it now! Where are you going? Get back here and apologize to Alex!” I forced the phone off. It was laughable, really. She never bothered to reply to my messages. I used to think she was too busy. Now I knew: she saw everything, she just chose not to respond to anything concerning me. It was Mom, whom I hadn’t seen in years, who picked me up. She wore a vibrant red dress, looking dazzling, but even through the brightness, I could see the subtle lines of age around her eyes. Mom pulled me into a hug, murmuring about all I’d suffered. Even though I’d been estranged for years, Mom and I had never truly lost touch. She knew all about the messy entanglement with Mia, had seen it with chilling clarity from the start, declaring we’d never last. I’d never believed her then. I did now. All the way home, Mom talked about the changes in the family. I already knew most of it, but I listened intently anyway. The moment I powered on my phone, it began to vibrate wildly. I ignored every call, just put it on silent. To Mom’s questioning glance, I simply said, “Spam calls.” She seemed to understand, though she didn’t press the issue. With the wedding date fast approaching, my schedule was packed. I followed Mom to coordinate venues and meet Lily for the wedding photo shoot. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I felt like a stranger. Mom’s eyes were rimmed with red; she dabbed at the corner. “Ryan, Lily is a million times better than that Mia.” I nodded, uncaring. I’d already met the worst kind of person; there was nothing left I couldn’t endure. To my surprise, Lily arrived right on time. The woman from the photos suddenly materialized, and I felt a strange flicker of unreality. “Well, hello there,” Lily chirped, her eyes dancing as she took me in, a playful smile curving her lips. It softened her generally cool demeanor, making her seem almost approachable. “Thank you,” I murmured, looking down, adjusting my clothes, a prickle of awkwardness rising. Mom quickly chimed in, “Lily’s here! Why don’t you two take a picture together, for posterity?” Lily glanced at me, seeking my approval. I nodded. Mom, beaming, snapped a photo of us. She loved social media, so she immediately posted it: “My son, handsomest of them all! /Image/” I never expected Mom’s casual post to go viral. Suddenly, hashtags were trending: #SterlingHeiressGettingMarried #LilyAndRyanWeddingShoot. Mom was thrilled, even screenshotting some of the congratulatory comments for me. “Let that Mia see this! See if she thinks she’s good enough for you now!” I was past caring, though. She never loved me; how could she hurt me? But then, she messaged me. I’d blocked her main number long ago, but she found my burner phone. She sent the photo of Lily and me, then called me, a voice call. The wind howled on the other end of the line. “You packed up and went home because of that woman? Is it just because her family has money? Ryan, I never thought you’d be such a gold-digger! I know you’re just jealous. You come back now, and I’ll marry you immediately.” I looked up at the moon outside my window. A cold, stark silver disc. “Yes. Exactly. Because she’s rich, beautiful, and knows how to be charming. A hundred times better than you. No man wants to be a cuckold, Mia!” Mia’s breathing grew ragged, as if she were restraining a wild beast within. Her voice turned vicious. “Ha, she doesn’t know, does she? That you and I slept together? That I was pregnant with your child? Those high-society girls, they’re so squeaky clean. Who would want damaged goods like you, Ryan? I forbid you from breaking up with me!” A dull ache spread through my chest, my eyes burning. The first time she was pregnant, I wanted to get married, make it official. But she refused, accused me of being a misogynist, of treating her like a broodmare. So I had no choice but to agree when she decided to terminate the pregnancy. Mia never held back, always going for the deepest wounds. For a long moment, I couldn’t utter a single word. Mia must have sensed my silence, because her tone softened. “Ryan, all those years we had… can you just say you don’t love me anymore?” She seemed about to say more. But then, a man’s voice, clear as a bell, drifted from her end of the line: “Mia, you’d look amazing in this lace lingerie. Come on, try it on…” I couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter, hollow sound, and hung up. Then I deleted the burner account completely. Still furious, I slapped myself across the face.

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I saw Nathan Reed again at my best friend Amy’s wedding. The man who had vanished five years ago. He was the groom, and I was a bridesmaid. Amy practically bounced over, her face alight, eager to tell me their love story. “You know, he was in that car accident, and I was the one who saved him,” she whispered conspiratorially, though her voice still carried. “I heard he had a fiancée back then, but I spirited him out of the country overnight for treatment.” She nudged me with her elbow, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across her face. “Pretty brilliant move, right, girl?” 1 Amy was still giddily rattling on about something, but I couldn’t make out a single word. My ears were filled with a piercing, unbearable buzz. Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. The man I loved most in this world had been hidden away for five long years by my best friend. I bent over, gasping for air, my body trembling uncontrollably. Amy, noticing my ashen face, quickly ushered me into the dressing room. She hovered, her voice laced with cautious concern. “Elara, what’s wrong? Is it your depression acting up again?” For the past five years, I’d scoured countless places, questioned endless strangers, plastered missing person posters, and even bought trending searches, all in a desperate bid to find Nathan. Even his own family had given up, but I stubbornly pressed on. In countless dark nights, I’d stood by the roadside, contemplating an end to this despair that threatened to swallow me whole. Now, it all felt like a cruel, elaborate joke. I gazed at the countless scars, a roadmap of jagged lines and healed skin, etched into my right wrist. My eyes burned, and my heart felt as if it were being ripped apart, piece by agonizing piece. Amy sighed, a weary note in her voice. “Are you thinking about your fiancé again? Stop looking, Elara. It’s been so long. He’s probably… he’s probably gone.” Then, as if an idea had just sparked, she brightened. “Tell you what, I’ll set you up with one of Nathan’s good friends sometime. I’ll throw a party.” The words were still hanging in the air when Nathan walked in. He was clad in a sharp black suit, his silhouette tall and impeccably tailored, exactly as I remembered him five years ago. Our eyes met across the room. He merely gave me a flat, indifferent glance before stepping toward Amy to adjust her wedding dress. Behind him followed his groomsmen, familiar faces, most of whom I’d known for years. Their eyes, when they met mine, were filled with unspoken words, a flicker of something close to pity. A moment ago, I might have tried to comfort myself, to rationalize that perhaps he’d lost his memory and that’s why he didn’t recognize me. But the expressions on his friends’ faces told a different story. They were telling me he hadn’t forgotten. He remembered everything. He just didn’t love me anymore. Amy beamed, looping her arm through Nathan’s. “Honey, tell your friends to stick around tonight, okay? We’re going to have a blast!” She shot me a conspiratorial wink. Nathan simply nodded, a casual gesture, without sparing me another glance. It was as if we’d never met, never shared a moment, never been anything to each other. Slowly, I closed my eyes, my heart seized in a vice-like grip, then brutally torn out and cast into a raging inferno. Never had I felt such profound agony. I desperately needed an outlet, a way to release the frantic, clawing despair within me. I stumbled to my feet and rushed into the restroom, slamming my forehead against the wall. A dull thud echoed in the small space, and instantly, warm blood bloomed across my skin. My body swayed precariously, my vision blurring at the edges. I barely managed to slide down the wall, sinking to the floor, a searing pain drilling through my very core. Again and again, I rammed the back of my head against the cold tile, as if only this self-inflicted torment could bring a fleeting moment of relief. It hurt. God, it truly hurt. I curled into a ball, a dizzying wave of exquisite pain washing over my chest. Then, a hollow, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. “Nathan,” I whispered into the silence, “you really don’t want me anymore…” 2 When I finally emerged from the restroom, the wedding ceremony was already underway. Amy, understanding my fragile state, had found someone else to step in as bridesmaid. I stood at the very back, watching Amy on stage, her face radiant with a sweet smile as she uttered, “I do.” Nathan knelt, a solemn gesture, and slipped a ring onto her left hand. A sharp pang of jealousy, cold and venomous, pierced through me. I wanted to rush forward, to tear them apart, to shout at Amy, demanding to know why she’d stolen my fiancé, why she’d hidden him away for five years, why she’d left me searching in a bottomless void. And I yearned to scream at Nathan, to ask why he pretended not to know me, why he hadn’t come back to me, why everyone had kept the truth hidden. I wanted to smash that wedding to pieces. But I didn’t. I merely sat in the corner, and when they finished their vows, I was the first to clap. My hands came together with a fierce, resounding clap that echoed through the hall, drawing curious glances from those around me. I paid them no mind. But as Nathan’s gaze drifted in my direction, I met it head-on. Our eyes locked. My nose stung, and the tears I’d been desperately holding back immediately spilled over. Nathan’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he calmly averted his gaze, his deep, dark eyes devoid of any emotion. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I truly believed I was losing my mind. I fumbled for my phone and typed a message, sending it to him: Nathan, I refuse to wish you a happy wedding. I curse you. I curse you to a lifetime of never getting what you truly desire. The next second, I scoffed at my own foolishness. The woman he loved had already married him. My curse was utterly powerless. I didn’t wait for the reception to end. I fled the venue and went straight home. I knew if I stayed a moment longer, I’d completely unravel. Three years ago, when all news of Nathan had abruptly ceased again, I’d tried to end it all. Tragically, I’d failed. My neighbor had found me and rushed me to the hospital. When I awoke, Mrs. Reed, Nathan’s mother, had clutched my hand, her eyes swimming with tears, begging me to live, to live for him. But a world without Nathan felt impossibly bitter. We’d met when we were six, started dating in high school, and just after college graduation, we’d picked a date to get our marriage license. But he’d been in a car accident on his way to meet me, and then he simply vanished. I’d gone to the police station countless times, questioned every stranger at the accident site, but to no avail. No one had seen him. Now he was back, but he no longer loved me. 3 I drifted into a fitful sleep, only to wake and check my phone. There were missed calls from Amy, soothing texts from Mrs. Reed, and then one stark, chilling reply from Nathan. It was just one cold, hard word: Get lost. A bitter laugh escaped me. My self-proclaimed devotion, my agonizing search, was nothing more than a pathetic joke in his eyes. I retreated entirely into myself, plagued by sleepless nights. My hair began to fall out in clumps, and I didn’t leave the apartment for ten days, rapidly wasting away. My already slender frame seemed to consist of nothing but bone. Then, Amy, unable to reach me by phone, showed up at my door. Nathan was right behind her. I hadn’t showered in ten days, and a faint, stale odor clung to me. But Amy didn’t seem to notice. She rushed forward and wrapped me in a tight hug, then practically dragged me towards the hospital. I knew what she was afraid of. My expression was detached as I gently pulled away from her, my voice polite but distant. “I’m fine, thank you.” I didn’t know how to face Amy. Should I resent her, or wish her well? I thought, I couldn’t do either, so instinctively, I just wanted to be away from her. She didn’t seem bothered by my sudden aloofness, simply attributing it to my mood. Amy let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Elara, can you please answer your phone? Did you buy it just to display it? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Her voice brightened. “Starting today, my husband and I are moving in with you. We’ll take care of you until you’re better.” She shook her head playfully, a determined glint in her eye. “No objections! Nuh-uh, no backsies!” Her expression was earnest, her tone firm. She was bright, outgoing, and kind-hearted, the kind of person it was hard not to love. So, I supposed, it was no wonder Nathan had fallen for her. I looked at the figure standing behind her. His eyes were cold, a pair of dark, narrowed slits, as if he were looking at a complete stranger. Even though he was as distant as ice, miles away from me, I still craved a flicker of his warmth. Even if it wasn’t meant for me. Just to see him for one more day, one more minute, even one more second. I didn’t know if it was my inability to resist Amy’s overwhelming concern, or perhaps my own selfish desire, but I let them move in. This apartment, once, was supposed to be Nathan’s and my marital home, our dream space. After he vanished, I’d decorated it exactly to his tastes. Every piece of furniture, every placement, echoed his style. Amy’s eyes widened as she took in the space. “Whoa, Elara, your taste is… certainly unique! Why is everything so dark and dreary? So much black and gray, no color at all!” Because the light had gone out of my world. I spoke softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because my fiancé liked it this way. So, I decorated it according to his preferences.” 4 “Well, you should have some opinions of your own!” Amy huffed, clearly displeased. “Why go along with everything he wants? My husband, he lets me pick all the decor. Our place is so cozy! And I make him sleep on pink sheets every day!” I lowered my gaze, a hazy memory surfacing. When we’d first moved in together, I’d loved pink too. Pink sheets, pink mugs, pink toothbrushes, pink bowls. I’d even bought him pink underwear, but he’d never once worn it. As for the sheets, he’d rather sleep on the couch than in the bed. Eventually, I’d given up and changed the color, and only then did he return to sleeping in the bed. A moment of stiff silence passed before I asked, almost masochistically, “Is that so? Would he sleep on the couch if you made him?” Amy scoffed, shooting a sideways glance at Nathan. “He wouldn’t dare!” She grinned. “He even wears pink underwear now.” Nathan’s expression flashed with a hint of embarrassment. He lightly patted her head, trying to silence her. “What’s wrong with pink sheets?” Amy continued, unfazed. “If your fiancé would sleep on the couch just because of that, it only proves he doesn’t love you enough. And after all those years you spent looking for him? What a jerk!” After a long silence, I found myself agreeing with her words. “You’re right,” I murmured. “Maybe he truly didn’t love me enough.” As I spoke those words, I distinctly felt Nathan’s gaze linger on me for a fleeting moment. His voice, when it came, was thin and cold. “If that’s the case, Miss James, you should know when to step aside. Don’t disturb other people’s lives. If possible, it’s best if you disappear from his sight entirely.” He leaned forward slightly, his words like daggers. “Self-pitying delusion only breeds disgust in others.” Nathan’s words were raw, ugly, and merciless. Self-pitying delusion. So that’s what he thought. All my desperate longing, all my agonizing years, were just a pathetic, self-indulgent fantasy. My eyes immediately filled with tears, my voice trembling. “You understand him so well… is it because you’re both the same kind of person?” I choked out, a wave of bitter anger rising. “Someone who likes to vanish, who likes to make others wait, then drain all their hope without so much as an apology? And then to turn around and call them ‘self-pitying’? I just wanted an explanation! Does my five years just… just vanish into thin air?” At my words, Nathan’s brows furrowed, and a flicker of anger ignited in his own eyes. “No one forced you to wait, Elara. Love and hate are voluntary. Since you chose to wait, shouldn’t you bear the consequences alone?” His voice rose, laced with sharp contempt. “Or do you think because you waited five years, I owe you eternal gratitude and should marry you?”

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“Grandpa! Grandma!” Luna’s sweet voice chirped as she flung herself into Mrs. Hayes’s embrace. Then, her eyes landed on me, and her smile instantly froze, a fleeting flicker of disgust crossing her face. “Why are you still here?” “Mom, what are you trying to stir up now?” My older brother, Ben Hayes, stepped forward, shielding Eleanor Hayes. Before I could speak, Mrs. Hayes snapped, “I invited Elara back.” “Honestly, it’s almost the New Year, and you just had to make her come back. What a jinx…” Julian Hayes, my father, mumbled, his face clouding over. Ben and Luna also looked visibly displeased. “It’s rare for Sister to come home.” Eleanor stepped forward, exuding the graciousness of a hostess. Among the guests, whispers broke out. “Indeed, the younger Miss Hayes is truly sensible.” “Yes, I heard she studied abroad. Her perspective is just different.” “How could a mother be so cruel, abandoning her children…” “Grandpa, we have a gift for you. My assistant arranged for it; it should be delivered soon.” At these words, old Mr. Hayes’s face lit up with delight. “I hear all three of the Kingstons’ children are exceptional.” “The eldest son is the head of Kingston Enterprises, the second daughter is a viral influencer with millions of followers, and the youngest son is a top student at Imperial University.” “Mrs. Kingston must be living the dream! Honestly, to think the elder Miss Hayes was so foolish, abandoning her husband and children for such a paltry gain…” Someone beside him tugged at his sleeve, motioning for him to stop. Old Mr. Hayes’s face darkened, and he immediately turned his displeasure on me. “What are you doing back? No word for over a decade, and now that things aren’t going well for you, you suddenly remember to come home?” He scanned the empty space behind me, his eyes full of disdain. “Are you back alone?” “You have three grandchildren, sir,” I said calmly, meeting his gaze. “They’re busy with work. They’ll arrive later.” “When did you get married? How come I don’t know about this?” Julian’s eyes flickered with a complex emotion as he demanded. “You mean they’re already working? So you’ve been secretly raising bastards behind my back all this time!” Old Mr. Hayes slammed his cane heavily against the floor at his son-in-law’s words. “A disgrace!” Before he could finish, a polite, well-dressed man appeared at the doorway. Everyone gasped, struck by his extraordinary bearing. “That looks like a delivery company specializing in expensive luxury gifts. They only take orders for millions and above, and I hear their delivery fees alone are hundreds of thousands…” “Excuse me, is Mrs. Hayes present? These are New Year’s gifts sent personally by your children. Please sign for them.” Eleanor, all smiles, stepped forward to greet the distinguished man. “Mrs. Hayes’s three children are truly filial! Look, even the delivery person is so refined. These gifts must be incredibly expensive!” Eleanor walked forward with a triumphant smile, but after signing, the lead delivery man stopped her. He looked at Eleanor with a complicated expression, gently blocking her hand as she reached to unseal the packages. “The signatory on these packages is Ms. Elara Hayes. Madam, we do not allow proxy signatures.” “Who did you say the signatory was?” Ben walked forward, disbelief etched on his face. When he saw the sender’s information, he visibly relaxed. “It must be a mistake on their end. The signatory should be my mother.” Kingston Corporation, Horizon Media, and the research team at Imperial University. Weren’t these his older brother’s business partner, his younger sister’s investor, and his own university? The Kingston family had some reputation in their circle. With the holiday season and his grandfather’s birthday banquet, these gifts must certainly be for them. The delivery address was, coincidentally, the Hayes residence. But Elara didn’t live at the Hayes residence anymore. It must be that the delivery company hadn’t clarified and made a mistake. I looked at Ben, a flicker of irony in my eyes. “Sir, these items are extremely valuable. We can only allow the designated person to sign.” The lead delivery man looked apologetic. I smiled, stepped forward, and signed my name with my ID. The delivery team member breathed a sigh of relief, bowed politely, and left. His company never made mistakes about who the packages were for. These were gifts from those three titans. Eleanor, however, squeezed past me, tore open the packages, and displayed the contents for everyone. “How thoughtful of these three children to prepare such gifts for us.” Expensive jewelry, exquisite wines, and priceless health tonics unavailable on the market. “This…” Luna and Ben paused, a slight discrepancy between these gifts and what they had prepared. Looking at the items, they knew Elara could never afford such things. Besides, Elara was only a high school graduate. How could she possibly know people of such high standing? It must be for them, just a name misprint. Thinking this, they naturally claimed the credit. It was all Elara’s fault. Just the thought of having once shared a household register with her made them feel cursed. Hearing the guests’ praises, they smiled and elevated Eleanor. “Yes, we’re very proud to have such a mother.” “Indeed, Eleanor is a good one. Elara comes home, and she brings nothing.” “During the holidays, no matter how hard things are, you still have to show filial piety, right?” “Truly, the eldest daughter is an embarrassment…” Eleanor stepped forward, smiling sweetly. “Sister, I know you’ve had a tough time these past years, but as the younger generation, we should set an example, right?” She gave a slight tilt of her head. “Coming back empty-handed isn’t really… ideal. Even though the children are grown and don’t need cash gifts, you should still show respect to Mom and Dad, right?” She clasped her hands together. “How about this? You wish Mom and Dad a proper Happy New Year. It’s the holidays, after all, and we want to keep spirits high.” Eleanor covered her mouth, smiling coyly as she looked at me. “Eleanor, don’t forget, I was the one who signed for these. Are you so sure these things are yours?” “Dad, Mom,” I said, my voice cool, my eyes flicking with coldness as I looked at Eleanor. “These are gifts from your three grandchildren for you.” At my words, Ben, Luna, and Julian all frowned in unison. “Elara, you are truly shameless!” Ben roared at me. “Who doesn’t know those nutritional tonics are made by Imperial University’s research team, unavailable on the market?” “Yeah,” Luna chimed in, stepping forward. “Ms. Hayes, this jewelry is from Horizon Media. It’s obvious it must be from my investor, the empress of pop, Layla Thorne.” “And Kingston Corp is the Hayes family’s latest project partner,” Julian added, looking at Eleanor. “Mom, don’t talk nonsense and offend important people.” Luna and Ben both nodded in agreement. “Sister, I know you’ve always loved to steal things from me since we were little, but some things aren’t yours. Forcing it won’t do any good…” Eleanor finished, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at Julian. Julian stepped in front of her, his gaze towards me laced with icy contempt. “Elara, don’t push your luck.” His voice was low and menacing. “What kind of occasion is this? What are you trying to stir up? Quickly, get down on your knees, apologize properly, and say something auspicious to bring some good cheer.” “Alright, alright, let’s just keep the family harmonious…” Mrs. Hayes said, seeing the tense atmosphere, trying to mediate. She knew her eldest daughter’s character all too well. “Mom… you always favor Sister! This is Dad’s eightieth birthday!” Eleanor’s words choked off Mrs. Hayes’s attempt at peace. Mrs. Hayes hesitated for a long moment, then turned her head away. “Elara, if you don’t kneel and apologize properly to Eleanor today, you will no longer bear the Hayes name,” old Mr. Hayes declared, successfully incited. Not only was this daughter a disappointment, but her divorce scandal had been public knowledge. Now, on his eightieth birthday, was she going to humiliate him again? Julian, watching my calm demeanor, found himself inexplicably annoyed. She shouldn’t be holding her head high like a swan. She should be bowing to him her entire life. Why did Elara seem to be living better after leaving him? No. Elara would always have to look up to him. He quietly whispered something to his assistant beside him. The assistant, seeing Eleanor’s face, immediately understood. Their boss wanted to stand up for his wife! And on New Year’s, who didn’t want a little extra something? It seemed this eldest Miss Hayes was penniless and powerless. If they could make the boss’s wife happy, they’d make the four Hayes seniors happy. “Don’t touch me!” I frowned, twisting my body to evade the approaching assistant. Ben and Luna frowned too, but they didn’t intervene. I didn’t expect, however, that Julian Hayes, standing behind me, would kick me hard in the waist. I stumbled and fell to the ground. The assistant immediately grabbed me, trying to force my head to hit the floor. “Who dares touch my mother!” A furious shout rang out, and everyone in the room instinctively turned towards the doorway. Liam Thorne and Alex Hayes strode in, their faces ashen. Alex kicked the assistant away and helped me to my feet. “Mom, are you alright?” Liam’s eyes darkened. “My sister’s dealing with a lot of people; she’ll be a little late. She told us to come first.” His gaze swept over the scene, full of cold fury. “Mom, do you want me to handle…” I shook my head, a deep, bitter disappointment in my eyes as I looked at Julian Hayes. “Elara, you really are something else, bringing such disreputable people to ruin my birthday banquet!” Old Mr. Hayes frowned, letting out a furious roar. “You’re not welcome here, get out! From this day forward, I, Arthur Hayes, have no daughter named Elara!” “Yes, and we don’t have a mother like you either!” Ben yelled at me, his face contorted in anger. Luna and Julian, though they said nothing, showed their agreement in their eyes. The guests began to buzz with whispers, pointing and muttering about me.

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Three months after my husband went missing in a skiing accident, I saw him at a bar. He had his arm slung around “sis-bro” Jamie’s shoulder, laughing like he was free from a life sentence. “Thanks to you, dude,” he was saying, “I was starting to forget what real freedom felt like.” His bros were buying him shots, one after another, asking when he was going to surface. He thought for a second, “I’ll give it another week, maybe. Let her sweat it out a bit, you know, drive her crazy before I show my face again.” I was standing in the shadows, watching him bask in his ‘freedom’, and dialed my friend at the county records office. 1. “I’m going to have Mark Harrison declared legally deceased,” I said, my voice tight. “You’re not going to keep looking?” my friend asked, hesitating. I looked up at Mark, who was now whispering something to Jamie, and my eyes stung. “There’s no point.” You can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found. I hung up and went back to my booth. My bestie, Sarah, saw my face and shoved a drink into my hand. “Look, honey, Mark’s been gone for three months. The odds of him being alive are basically zero. You need to let go, move on.” I stared at the colorful drink in my glass and downed it in one go. The burn of the liquor made my eyes water, and I blinked back the tears, asking, “Do you think anyone would fake their own death to get away from their wife?” She looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “What kind of crazy talk is that? Only a real dirtbag would pull a stunt like that. He’d be better off actually dead!” I wiped away the tears and grabbed my purse. “You’re right, I need to let him go.” I left and went home. The house was silent. It’d been this way for three months. I hated the silence. I’d started leaving all the lights on, brewing a cup of his favorite tea and putting it on the coffee table, pretending he was still there. I just didn’t understand. If he didn’t want to be married to me anymore, he could have just filed for divorce. Why fake a skiing accident and disappear? I sat on the couch and picked up the two cartoonish figurines of us he’d given me. “When I’m not here,” he’d said, grinning, “these little guys can keep you company.” His words clashed with the annoyed tone I’d heard at the bar. “Chloe was sweet and chill before we got married, but now she’s way too clingy. This fake-out will teach her a lesson and she’ll lay off.” Jamie had poured him another shot. “Well, at least I never cling to you! We’ve been buds for years.” “You’re the best, man,” he’d replied. They called themselves “bros” but their legs were intertwined. The thought made my stomach churn. I chucked the figurines in the trash and grabbed my phone, sending a mass text: Mark Harrison passed away in an accident three months ago. Memorial service next week. Mark’s buddies started hammering me with texts, full of outrage. “How can you have a funeral if you haven’t found his body?” “Chloe, have you lost it? Mark’s not dead!” “If Mark comes back and sees his own memorial service he’s gonna lose it! Chloe, think this through, do you want to make Mark angry?” I didn’t reply to the first texts, only to the last: “He’s dead. He’s beyond being angry now.” I tossed my phone aside and started packing up Mark’s stuff. For the past three months, I had been searching for him in the mountain town where he was “skiing,” and barely been home. The bedroom was mostly as we’d left it. I opened his closet and froze. His clothes were gone, like half of them, and all that was left were the items he’d never wear at this time of year. Tears started to fall. I had spent three months looking for him, and he’d been sneaking back here to grab his crap whenever I wasn’t around. 2. I pulled up the security footage and fast-forwarded through the last month. At the start of the month, Mark had walked in with his arm around Jamie, leaving two hours later with a ton of clothes. Mid-month, he’d carried Jamie into the house, and Jamie hadn’t left till the morning. A couple of nights ago, they’d come home under the cover of darkness, leaving early yesterday morning. I had been looking for him in the next state over when these things had happened. I watched the screen as tears streamed down my face, not for Mark, but for myself. How had I fallen for such a scum bag? I had been losing sleep, worrying about him, while he and his “bro” were sleeping in my house, maybe even my bed. I clenched my fist and willed myself not to start hyperventilating. The phone rang. I didn’t want to answer but it kept ringing. I took a deep breath, got up and looked at the caller ID. It was Mark’s uncle, Ben Harrison. I quickly answered. “Uncle Ben, is everything okay?” “Mark’s not dead.” He sent a video. It was Mark and Jamie doing a sake bomb, their eyes glued to one another. My breath hitched, and my fingers trembled as I spoke. “I know he’s not dead.” The man sounded surprised, but then laughed. “Then why are you planning a funeral?” “Everyone kept saying he was dead. I wanted to believe it. So, he gets a funeral.” Ben was silent for a second. “So you’re saying you’re widowed?” “Yeah,” I replied. Ben Harrison was Mark’s uncle by adoption, and I barely knew him. He was the first person to tell me straight up that Mark was alive. I felt like I owed him something for that. “If you’re free next week, you can come to the service.” “I will.” Then another video came through. Mark’s friends are showing him something on their phone and he throws his drink. Jamie puts her hand on his chest like she’s trying to calm him down. The bar was too loud for me to hear, but I could see Mark’s face soften. He even buried his face in Jamie’s shoulder. He must have seen my mass text, and he got pissed. And, somehow, just a few words from Jamie had soothed him. Whenever he got mad at me, he’d make me spend the night thinking about what I did wrong. Only then he would forgive me. I closed my eyes, saved the videos, and set the phone down. Right then, Jamie called. I answered, and the loud music in the background nearly deafened me. Jamie was shouting. “Chloe! Are you planning a memorial service for Mark? Are you crazy? Cancel that thing now! If he ever sees it when he comes back, you’ll be sorry!” Before she finished, I hung up, grabbed a blanket, and crashed on the couch. It was the first good sleep I’d had in three months. The next morning, I went down to the courthouse to get Mark declared officially deceased. Once I got the paperwork, I went to Jamie’s place. Her front door was closed, and it took me several tries on the doorbell before I heard footsteps. She was wearing a silk robe, leaning against the doorframe, and there was evidence of a good time all over her neck and collarbone. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” I glanced at her neck, then her face, which held nothing but contempt. “I wanted to invite you to Mark’s memorial service. Seeing as you were his ‘best bro’ after all.” Jamie rolled her eyes and sneered. “Chloe, you’re his wife. He went missing three months ago. Instead of looking for him, you’re just planning a funeral? “What if he’s not dead? Are you trying to wish him into his grave? What kind of a wife does that?” I pulled the death certificate from my bag, laughing. “He’s been under the snow for three months. I couldn’t find him, so he’s officially dead now.” “That’s what everyone told me to do. To move on.” When I’d gotten the bad news, I’d fainted. The next morning all of Mark’s friends were sitting around my bed. “Honey, the area he went missing is really dangerous, it’s going to be hard to find anyone. Maybe you should just give up.” “Yeah, it’s a lost cause.” I’d gotten up, booked a ticket, hired a rescue team and headed to the mountains. For two and a half weeks I didn’t sleep or eat. I hadn’t noticed then, how there wasn’t any panic in any of his so-called friend’s eyes. Just amusement. Jamie’s jaw dropped, and then I heard a crash from inside her apartment. She glared at me and warned, “Don’t pull anything stupid. When Mark gets back you’ll be sorry!” I ignored her, like I had the night before, and walked away. 3. The argument from behind her door was loud. Now that he heard that I declared him officially deceased, Mark was starting to lose his mind. But I wasn’t going to let him find me. If he could disappear for three months, I could certainly be gone for a few days. I grabbed a packed bag and asked Sarah to book a hotel room for me using her name and ID. I’ve been hiding out at the hotel for the past few days, buying funeral supplies and that’s it. Sarah showed up looking smug. “I hear some dude is tearing up the city looking for you. Dude’s flipped out. They’re all over the news.” I watched the news, seeing a missing person poster with Mark’s face and smiled. “He can look all he wants. I won’t let him find me. When he said he wanted to make me sweat and then come back, why is he sweating now?” “He deserves it, the jerk. Why does the world have such awful men in it?” She was getting worked up, and I had to cut her off, “Hey, it’s my husband’s funeral today, I’m supposed to be sad, remember?” I got out my makeup bag, and turned myself into a hollow, sad, wreck. Once Sarah was certain I looked miserable enough, we left for the funeral. On the way, I gave her a USB drive with all the videos of Mark and Jamie, and told her to play it when I gave the signal. Only then did I send out the funeral address. First to arrive was Ben. He stepped out of his black car and took a white flower from me, pinning it to his lapel. “My condolences.” Next came the clueless relatives. Their grief was genuine, and it made my heart ache. Mark, you fake your own death, and you hurt the people who actually care about you. Today, you’ll pay for it. Finally, his “bros” arrived. They all looked pale and sick, and their hands trembled when they took their flowers. One of them dragged me to the side. “Hey, honey, you need to stop this! Mark is not dead! He’s going insane looking for you! Have you seen the missing person posters?” I blinked, and let out two tears. “Don’t try to cheer me up, those missing posters were Jamie’s idea.” “A dead man cannot return to life. I’ve given up hope that he will.” He tried to say something but I nodded to Sarah, who grabbed his arm and sat him down. Once everyone had arrived, I got up on stage, and adjusted the mic. “Thank you all for coming to the memorial service for my late husband…” A scream cut me off. “Chloe! What the hell are you doing? I said Mark isn’t dead!” Jamie was standing at the entrance, glaring at me. “Are you even his wife? How can you have a funeral when he’s been missing for three months? I won’t let you!” I looked behind her. Mark wasn’t there. So, even now Mark still wasn’t going to show his face. I glared back at Jamie, “You won’t let me? Who are you to tell me what to do? You just said it yourself, I’m his wife.” Jamie stared at me, tears filling her eyes. “How can you be so cruel? Mark loves you so much. How can you just declare him dead like that?” “What if he isn’t?” My eyes went to her marked neck and I smiled. “Even if he isn’t, I don’t want to waste my time on a cheater.” I had Jamie dragged off to a side and continued with the service. I was about to say something when a disheveled looking man appeared at the door. “Honey, I’m not dead! I’m back!”

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1 When the son of her ‘white moonlight’—Ethan—was kidnapped, he collapsed before me, his forehead striking the floor until blood ran red. “Leo is just a child. If you want to kill someone, take me instead.” I instinctively shielded my wife’s swollen eight-month belly, utterly baffled by his words. But Olivia’s face darkened. “I’ve been too lenient with you, haven’t I? How could you do something like this?” Olivia, who had always doted on me, now gripped my throat with bruising force. As my vision blurred, a chilling realization dawned: they believed I had hired the kidnappers for Leo. Because the ransom wasn’t delivered on time, the kidnappers mercilessly executed Leo. Ethan clutched Leo’s broken body, teetering on the edge of suicide. Olivia, her eyes raw and red, brought in the top experts in bioengineering. After a sleepless month of frantic work, they finally secured Leo’s cloned cells. But Ethan’s wife had died years ago. After a moment’s contemplation, Olivia’s gaze fell upon my eight-month pregnant wife—the one carrying my child. I shook my head in horror, kneeling and clutching Olivia’s belly. “Olivia, I sympathize with Ethan’s suffering, but I swear I had nothing to do with Leo’s kidnapping. You can’t do this to me!” “Alex, Ethan’s wife passed away years ago. Leo was his only hope for survival. Even if you were jealous, you had no right to harm his child.” “This is what you owe Leo.” She completely ignored my desperate pleas, brutally forcing the premature delivery of our child. Our little Noah was full-term; he cried when they pulled him out, but they smothered him, silencing his cries forever. I never even saw the face of the child we had conceived in hope and love before Olivia turned and walked back into the operating room. Having just lost our own flesh and blood, my wife was now preparing to carry the bloodline of my supposed enemy. I stormed into the operating room, sweeping every instrument from the trays, desperate to stop them from performing the implantation surgery on Olivia. Olivia’s gaze turned to ice. “Alex, if you continue this tantrum, don’t blame me for what comes next!” Seeing that I wouldn’t leave, Olivia ordered them to immediately perform a vasectomy on me. I struggled with all my might, fighting to stay awake even as they injected me with an excessive dose of anesthetic. My resistance prolonged the procedure, and with Leo’s precious cells on the verge of dying, Olivia walked back in, carrying the tiny body of our child. Watching Noah, his eyes tightly closed as if asleep, my heart bled tears. Olivia’s hand clamped around Noah’s neck. “Comply now. If Leo’s cells die and the surgery fails because of you, your child won’t get a proper burial either.” “Olivia! That’s your flesh and blood too!” I screamed, my voice tearing, but my body grew heavier, more sluggish. “You’re a father yourself. How could you be so cruel to Leo?” Olivia looked at me with a pained, reproachful gaze. It wasn’t me. But no one believed me. My body slowly lost the strength to fight the anesthetic. Consumed by grief and injustice, I closed my eyes. When I woke again, my hands and feet were secured tightly to the hospital bed. The two fresh wounds on my lower abdomen confirmed it: not only had Noah truly left me, but I had also been stripped of my right to be a father forever. And in my wife’s womb, the bloodline of my supposed enemy now thrived. I lost the will to live, biting down hard on my tongue. Olivia pushed open the door. Seeing the pristine white sheets stained crimson with the blood gushing from my mouth, she rushed forward, pinching my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. I clenched my jaw, letting out a hollow, desperate laugh as I stared at her. Her eyes burned crimson. She summoned every doctor in the hospital again. I thought she was worried about me, but after the frantic rescue, she slapped me hard across the face. “I’m warning you, you won’t commit suicide to escape punishment until Leo is safely born.” 2 She looked down at me. I stared at the canine tooth that had been knocked out and lay on the floor, my heart a barren wasteland. To prevent another suicide attempt, she ordered them to fit me with a bite guard. I had lost a portion of my tongue and could no longer speak clearly, though it made little difference. No one listened to me anyway. Once my tongue had fully healed, I was no longer restricted to a liquid diet. Olivia personally brought in a bowl of broth. She sat silently beside me, gently removing the bite guard with soft, careful movements, just as I had once cared for her when she was pregnant. “Alex, making your son give up his place for Leo was your punishment. As long as Leo is born healthy, Ethan won’t pursue this any further.” She chattered on, but I offered no response. “I forced the delivery of our child to teach you a lesson. Life isn’t a game. If you admit your mistake, we can try for another baby.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I twisted my head to look at her, but my gaze froze on the contents of the bowl. There, unmistakably, was our baby’s placenta, prepared as a grotesque ‘tonic.’ I gagged, a wretched sound, and vomited. Olivia meticulously wiped the filth from the corners of my mouth with a wet wipe. The next moment, she clamped my jaw shut and forced a spoonful of the sickening mass down my throat. “Alex, this is highly nutritious. You’ve just had surgery; it will help your body recover.” I wanted to struggle, but my hands, feet, and head were all restrained. I could only endure as the boiled, mangled substance slid down my throat. Seeing that I had swallowed it all, Olivia released her grip. “Ethan’s mental state is still fragile. I’m taking him abroad to clear his head. During this time, you’re to stay home, diligently praying and meditating for Leo, and don’t cause any more trouble.” “If you behave, I’ll find a good resting place for Noah. But if Leo complains to Ethan in a dream that you haven’t prayed enough, you won’t get Noah’s complete ashes back.” “Wasn’t Noah your child too?” I managed to ask, the salty tears streaming down my face, more bitter than any sorrow in my heart. Her footsteps paused, but she didn’t turn back. “With a father like you, he would have been a curse even if he had lived.” The door closed. The last ember of feeling I held for Olivia extinguished then. Her departure lasted nine long months. During those nine months, I spent every day praying and meditating for Leo, fasting and becoming a shadow of a man. He seemed to sense my hatred. With every word I uttered, my head throbbed as if caught in an iron vise. Migraines relentlessly pounded through me every single day for nine months. I rapidly withered, my body gaunt, my eyes bulging, eerily prominent. Olivia called daily, not to check on me, but to supervise my unwavering devotion to Leo’s spiritual journey. Ethan even leaned into the phone, pressing his ear to Olivia’s swollen belly, talking to Leo from across the video call. To ensure I couldn’t escape my duty, my hands and feet were shackled to Leo’s makeshift memorial for nine months. The wounds from my struggles had long since fused with the shackles, but no one cared, as long as the candles and incense for Leo’s memorial never dwindled. In the month leading up to the delivery, Olivia and Ethan finally returned from abroad, their reluctance palpable. “Why are you so thin?” That was the first thing Olivia said to me after nine months. 3 “So weak, you didn’t let Leo’s memorial rituals falter, did you?” Seeing the thick layer of ash beneath Leo’s incense burner, Olivia nodded in satisfaction. “Once Leo is born, I’ll make sure you get good care to recover.” “Leo, Daddy finally gets to see you again. This time, I’ll never leave your side, I swear you’ll never be harmed again.” Ethan looked at Olivia’s heavily pregnant belly with a gaze full of fatherly love. “Olivia, could you leave me alone with Leo’s memorial for a moment?” Olivia immediately looked at me with suspicion. After confirming that I, in my near-dead state, posed no threat to Ethan, Olivia left the memorial room, glancing back constantly. Ethan’s gentle expression vanished instantly. “Leo’s death? I orchestrated the whole thing myself.” His eyes were fixed on me, a smile playing on his lips, utterly devoid of warmth. “Do you know why I did it?” Ethan leaned in close, his nose almost touching mine. He carried the subtle, woody scent of Olivia’s perfume, the very one I had personally chosen for her before she conceived Noah. My eyes held a blank indifference; I offered no response. “Five years ago, Mr. Caldwell, to break up Olivia and me, didn’t hesitate to orchestrate a cruel deception, having someone pose as my wife and seize everything I had, forcing me out of the country. Olivia had promised me she’d never marry another. But when I finally managed to escape Mr. Caldwell’s influence abroad and rushed back to find Olivia, I learned she had married you a year ago!” Ethan’s expression turned vicious. “I suffered so much abroad, yet she never once tried to contact me. I thought Mr. Caldwell was controlling her, but then I found out she’d completely forgotten about me!” “I had Olivia first! What right did you have to steal her?” “And I thought you were some scion of an esteemed lineage, someone who could match Olivia’s status. Turns out, you’re just an orphan, a nobody compared to me!” Ethan grew more agitated with each word, then slammed a fist into my face. A metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. I spat the blood directly onto his face. He seemed unable to comprehend that I would dare do such a thing. He furiously wiped his face, his expression even more distorted with the blood smears. “To win back a worthless woman, would you truly sacrifice your own flesh and blood?” He froze. Then, he laughed. “A worthless life with no name, what good is it alive?” “Since it’s useless, why not gamble with it?” “I only meant to use him to get rid of you and the bastard in her womb. But who knew Olivia cared so much about me? She even found a way to resurrect Leo with cloning technology! I never imagined she’d go to such lengths for us, father and son.” “The ‘worthless woman’ you speak of wields power enough to bring the dead back to life. Do you still think I was wrong to gamble my own flesh and blood to win her back?” “If you had cooperated back then, Olivia might have even kept some of your child’s hair or fingernails. Too bad she rushed to cremate every last trace of him~” Mentioning Noah stirred an uncontrollable surge of emotion within me. I snarled, wanting to lunge and bite Ethan. He laughed, taking a large step back, but a high-pitched shriek, incompatible with his smirk, escaped his throat. “Ethan!” Outside the door, Olivia’s frantic footsteps grew closer. Ethan, without hesitation, bit hard into his own palm. My breathing quickened. With a crash, Olivia kicked open the door and burst in. 4 Ethan had successfully bitten his right hand until it bled profusely, then replaced his pained expression with one of tearful sorrow. However, Olivia’s anxious gaze only lingered on his wounded hand for a fleeting moment. She stood frozen, then suddenly crumpled, sobbing, to the floor. Ethan’s shriek had startled her, triggering premature contractions. Olivia’s water broke. She had no time to mediate Ethan’s grievance. Even so, Ethan’s face contorted with a venomous expression. This terrifying man, who even envied his own son. Olivia swiftly summoned the most skilled obstetricians, but upon seeing the injury on Ethan’s hand, she coldly commanded: “Perform a C-section. And while I’m in surgery, castrate Alex too. Don’t give him any anesthetic. Let him watch his testicles being removed, fully conscious!” “My apologies, Mr. Caldwell.” After seeing Ethan escort Olivia away, the doctor put on his gloves, speaking softly and sympathetically to me: “Don’t blame me. I’ll make it as quick as possible, to spare you some suffering.” The moment the cold scalpel sliced into my skin, my soul vibrated with pain. I learned then that a human could be butchered like a piece of dead meat, stripped of all dignity. I screamed until my throat bled, losing consciousness several times. To keep me awake, the doctors had to inject me with adrenaline. By the end, I had completely lost all sense of self, forgetting I was even human. Leo’s first cries were like a pardon for me. The moment I heard Olivia had delivered, the male doctor on the surgical team quickly injected me with a painkiller. “Mr. Caldwell, it’s all over. Get some rest.” As I closed my eyes, the agony throughout my body vanished instantly. I thought it was just the painkiller working. My body grew lighter, relaxing completely, but then I found myself floating uncontrollably. When I opened my eyes again and saw myself from a bird’s-eye view, looking down at my mutilated self on the operating table, I realized I was already dead. If the entire operating room hadn’t been empty except for me, I wouldn’t have believed the person on the table was myself. After losing Noah, I hadn’t looked in a mirror. My once-muscular physique was gone. Skeletal limbs, wrists, and ankles bore permanent scars where my struggles had caused the long-term shackles to fuse with and then tear my skin. I gazed for a long time at my shattered, unrecognizable form. The operating room door opened. It was Olivia. Even in death, my soul trembled uncontrollably. What was she doing here? Did she think the punishment she’d inflicted wasn’t enough? If she discovered I was dead, would she grieve, or would she resent me for dying too soon, for not suffering enough to atone for Leo? She cradled her waist, carrying in a basin and a kettle of boiling water. Did she think I was sleeping instead of serving her after childbirth, and planned to scald me awake? She poured in the boiling water, then added cold, repeatedly testing the temperature with her hand. I began to feel confused. Apparently satisfied with the temperature, Olivia took out a soft towel, soaked it in the basin, then wrung out the water. She lifted one of my arms and meticulously began to wipe it with the towel. Olivia was washing my body. I let out a disbelieving, hollow laugh. After tormenting me to death over a crime she’d wrongly pinned on me, was she now staging some tender act? I couldn’t wait to see the expression on Olivia’s face when she realized I was truly dead. To my shock, the next moment, my corpse opened its eyes.

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1 When I was ten, an elderly woman took my twin sister, Chloe, and never brought her back. My parents reported her missing and searched for eighteen years, but there was never a trace. Then, recently, a trend of psychic streamers took off. Mom started trying to get a live reading, scrambling to connect in every session. After half a month, she finally got through to a well-known streamer. She trembled as she posed her most desperate question: “Is my younger daughter still alive?” The streamer glanced at me, a look of surprise crossing her face. Then she nodded, responding, “She’s alive! But your older daughter is gone!” Our family of three went utterly pale in an instant! Under my parents’ stunned gaze, I quickly disconnected the call. I laughed, trying to smooth things over. “These streamers, desperate for attention, they’ll say anything!” Ten minutes later, a knock echoed at our front door. It was the police! The psychic’s words had cast an eerie silence over the house. Mom and Dad both looked at me, their expressions complicated. I forced a laugh. “Mom, you can’t trust what’s online. You should watch less of that stuff!” “You’re not actually buying into that psychic’s nonsense, are you?” Seeing nothing amiss with me, Dad was the first to react. “Skye’s right, honey. You need to stop watching those crazy livestreams.” I smiled, picked up Mom’s phone, and uninstalled the streaming app. Then I playfully tugged her arm. “Mom, I’m starving! I want your braised ribs!” She took her phone, tossed it aside. “That psychic is just spouting nonsense. I’ll go make them right now!” Knock, knock, knock. The knocking came from outside the door again. My heart, which had just settled, leaped into my throat. I composed myself and walked to open the door. Officer Davies walked in, his face alight with excitement. “The trafficking ring has been apprehended! You can finally ask about Chloe!” Clang! Dad shot up, his water glass crashing to the floor. He couldn’t stop trembling. “Really?” Seeing Officer Davies nod in confirmation, I quickly rushed into the kitchen and pulled Mom out. Our family hurried to the precinct. 2 When I was ten, my twin sister, Chloe, disappeared. According to the kids in the village, she was seen being led away by an old lady. My parents reported it to the police and searched for eighteen long years, but there was never a single clue. From then on, we’d distribute tens of thousands of missing person flyers every year. The police station became our second familiar home. Now, finally, there was hope of news about my sister. Of course, we rushed there. Though we went through similar emotional rollercoasters twice a year, it never dulled our determination to find her. Entering the interrogation room, I saw a woman with white hair sitting in a chair. Mom and Dad trembled slightly, staring intently at her. “Is she the one who took my sister?” I whispered, bewildered, to my parents beside me. “She looks like it!” Dad’s voice shook, his excitement almost unbearable. My heart, however, fluttered with unease. How could this be? This was impossible! “Eighteen years ago, did you go to Maple Creek and abduct a girl?” Officer Davies asked the woman. The woman lifted her eyes, scoffing. “I’ve taken many. Not just Maple Creek, but Bluebell Hollow, Whispering Pines, too!” Officer Davies slammed his hand on the table. “Watch your tone!” Mom’s eyes reddened, her emotions raw. “Did you take my daughter? Where did you take her?” The woman glanced at Mom, then pointed at me. “Girls her age, of course, were sold to remote communities to be wives.” “That period was quite profitable… a single girl could fetch tens of thousands…” She laughed openly, without a shred of shame. “Specifically, where were they sold?” Dad lunged at her, grabbing her clothes, demanding fiercely. Officer Davies quickly intervened, pulling him back. “Calm down.” After several rounds of questioning, the woman refused to speak further. Mom was so desperate she knelt directly, sobbing and pleading, “Please, tell me! I’ve been looking for her for eighteen years. I miss her so much! Dead or alive, I just want to know what happened!” Perhaps the desperate kneeling touched something in her. She finally spoke an address. 3 Mom and Dad rushed out, eager to leave immediately. Officer Davies quickly caught up, pulling them back. “It’s too dangerous to go alone. Wait until tomorrow; I’ll gather more officers, and we’ll go together!” My parents hesitated, and I quickly chimed in, “Mom, Dad, going with the police will definitely be safer!” Once they nodded, I started looking up the address online. It wasn’t too far from us, about a five-hour drive. When we reached the foot of the mountain, police officers were already waiting. One led us to the village chief, and then we followed him into a dilapidated small yard. My heart pounded in my throat. Could my sister possibly be here? I found it hard to believe. Just then, a disheveled woman emerged from the house, holding a child. “Who are you looking for?” She looked no older than twenty. The village chief stepped forward. “Miss Lin, these are police officers. They’re here to help you find your birth parents!” A man stepped out from behind her. “What parents? My little Lily’s parents are dead! Get out, get out, don’t stay here!” We were ushered out. The door had just closed when we heard the woman’s scream from inside. Officer Davies pushed the door open again, sharply reprimanding the man who was hitting her… “Domestic violence can also be charged!” Hearing this, the man kicked the woman viciously. “Tch, how unlucky!” The village chief stepped in, smiling apologetically, trying to mediate between the two sides. The man glared at us, his face ashen, but finally agreed to let us take the woman! This wasn’t my sister. Her age and appearance didn’t match. My mom, heartbroken by the woman’s suffering, and thinking of our still-missing Chloe, cried uncontrollably. Officer Davies made calls constantly on the way. Through the woman’s descriptions, he quickly helped her find her family. When we returned to the precinct, an elderly couple stood at the entrance! The woman saw them and burst into loud sobs! She knelt before them, calling them Mom and Dad! Watching their family reunion, my mom fainted from sorrow! Back home, fearing Mom might do something drastic, Dad quickly contacted Aunt Carol, asking her to come over and console her. When Aunt Carol walked in, I was sitting by Mom’s bedside, holding a bowl of porridge. “Chloe? You’re home?” Aunt Carol looked at me, her face beaming with joy. My parents’ expressions instantly stiffened, turning ashen. I took a deep breath, suppressing my own reaction. I quickly put down the bowl and went to take Aunt Carol’s arm. “Aunt Carol, look closely! It’s me, Skye! My sister hasn’t been found yet~” Then I sighed again. “If Chloe came back, Mom definitely wouldn’t be sick like this~” Hearing that, Mom’s face looked a bit strained. 4 “Skye?” Aunt Carol looked confused. “You bought me so many candied hawthorns when I was little, and told me not to tell anyone… Have you forgotten, Aunt Carol?” “Chloe and I do look very similar, but Chloe had autism; would she joke around like me?” I playfully teased Aunt Carol and Mom. “If Chloe hadn’t disappeared, standing in front of you now, I probably wouldn’t even be able to tell us apart!” My parents’ expressions shifted quickly. I quickly pulled Aunt Carol closer, trying to be affectionate. Aunt Carol smiled, sat down by the bed, and comforted Mom. “Honey, look how wonderful Skye is! You can just think of her as Chloe, if you want!” “You’ve searched for eighteen years; it’s time to let go!” I kept a close eye on my parents’ expressions, only relaxing when they seemed to return to normal. Mom’s eyes were red, and she cried, “I don’t know where Chloe is, or how much she’s suffered!” Aunt Carol quickly changed the subject. A week later, Mom finally started to emerge from the crushing disappointment of the last failed hope. Then, we received news from the police again! Officer Davies, on the phone, excitedly told me: “The girl we rescued this time looks incredibly like you! And her age matches too.” “Come over quickly and identify her!” The cup in my hand slipped, shattering with a crash. Hearing the news, I feigned excitement and shouted, “Mom, Dad, let’s go quickly! There’s a lot of hope this time~” But my parents weren’t as thrilled as I expected. Mom sighed. “After so many years, there’s been hope many times, but in the end, it was never her.” Dad took her hand, comforting her softly. “Don’t give up. Maybe this time it’s real?” I quickly packed our things and went to get the car. When we arrived at the precinct, I saw the girl sitting across from us. At first glance, she was indeed seventy percent similar to me! Mom looked at her, her lips moving, too emotional to speak. She walked quickly to the girl, her trembling hand suspended in mid-air! The girl noticed the unusual attention, looking up at Mom. “You, who are you?” I excitedly stepped forward and grabbed the girl’s hand, “Chloe! We finally found you!” Mom hugged her, crying loudly, utterly overwhelmed. Dad’s face went completely pale, terrified! But I knew this girl still wasn’t my sister. Officer Davies came out, and Mom finally released the girl she was hugging. “Her age, memories, and appearance all seem to match quite well!” He handed me the file. I took a glance, then handed it with a smile to Mom and Dad beside me. “She should be Chloe, right?” Officer Davies stopped Mom and Dad, who wanted to take the girl home immediately. “To be cautious, we still need to do a DNA test!” We, of course, cooperated. 5 Seven days later, the results came out. Everyone was incredulous. She wasn’t Chloe either! This was, however, within my expectations. Mom left disconsolately, while Dad seemed somewhat relieved. Back home, Mom remembered the psychic streamer. She immediately asked me to re-download the streaming app, wanting to ask again. I initially didn’t want to download it for her, but I was afraid she’d overthink things. So I did it for her anyway. Even if it just gave her a sliver of hope, it was better than searching aimlessly. After the download was successful, I logged into Mom’s account. I saw a series of private messages, two of which were from that psychic. “Your daughter’s matter? Your husband and your current daughter both know about it. They’ve been hiding it from you all this time!” “You need to be careful of your daughter and your husband!” That psychic really was spouting nonsense. I casually handed the phone to Mom. “Mom, look, this psychic is trying to fool you! You can’t trust her!” “These streamers will say anything to go viral!” Her face changed slightly, then she deleted the messages right in front of me. “I know! I won’t believe them.” Seeing her emotions stable, I felt relieved. The next day, as I was at work, a few police officers suddenly showed up at the door, looking for me. I was confusedly taken to the precinct. As soon as I arrived, I saw my mom sitting on a chair inside. “Mom, what’s going on?” Her face looked unnatural as she looked at me. She hemmed and hawed, unwilling to speak. “What exactly happened?” My tone grew a little sharper. My mom finally spoke, “That psychic said your dad knows your sister’s whereabouts!” My heart plummeted. It lodged in my throat. “And then?” I looked around, but didn’t see Dad. “Your dad is in the interrogation room!” She pointed to a door inside. “Mom, how could you listen to some online psychic and have the police bring Dad here!” Watching her gaze awkwardly at the floor, I was speechless. “Have you forgotten that psychic last year who claimed she could find Chloe, and ended up conning you out of eight thousand dollars?” “I just finished paying that money back last month!” Saying this, I wanted to explain to the officer beside me. But instead, I was met with a pair of handcuffs.

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My best friend, Lana, and I unexpectedly transmigrated to a post-apocalyptic world where women were few and far between. In this shattered world, men constantly presented Lana and me with the most delectable food, dedicating every effort to defending our safety. As days turned into weeks, Lana gradually became immersed in this new reality, losing all desire to return to our original world. “This place,” she’d exclaim, her voice bubbling with delight, “is truly my paradise.” But as I gazed at the men who hovered around us, ever vigilant, like loyal guardians, a profound dread settled in my heart. I knew, with chilling certainty, that genuine kindness never came without a price in this world. Under any circumstances, the primary instinct of male organisms always remained the same: to procreate. 1 As that chilling realization dawned, eight security officers had already silently infiltrated the living quarters Lana and I shared. They stood rigidly in their crisp black uniforms, forming an ominous perimeter in the dim light. A cold, lethal aura radiated from them, each one young, strong, and imposing. After a moment of unsettling stillness, two of them slowly moved towards Lana’s room and my own. My heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. I forced myself to feign sleep, silently praying they were merely conducting a routine patrol. Yet, deep within me, an unsettling premonition whispered: their presence here, tonight, was likely to ensure Lana and I conceived. Just this morning, during our medical examination, I had inadvertently overheard snippets of the doctors’ conversation: “These two girls possess exceptionally robust physical conditions. The Ark Sanctuary hasn’t encountered bodies this healthy, this superior, in twenty years.” “And we’ve already identified eight highly genetically compatible males for them.” “If all proceeds smoothly, new life will be born by this time next year.” “Heaven truly has favored us after all.” There were a few other women undergoing examinations at the time, so it hadn’t immediately registered that they were speaking about Lana and me. After the check-up, we had been transferred to this towering structure—the only place in the Sanctuary with a view of the world beyond its walls. On our table, in addition to the milk, tender beef, and soft bread we enjoyed daily, rested two incredibly rare apples. Such luxuries were typically reserved only for the highest-ranking personnel within the Sanctuary. The common folk struggled to survive on coarse grains like yams and corn. Yet, ever since Lana and I arrived, despite being classified as commoners, we were regularly given these precious foods. I knew the Sanctuary enforced an extremely strict post-apocalyptic rationing system. You received only what you earned. And for us to receive such valuable treatment, we would undoubtedly have to provide something equally precious in return. Lana and I possessed nothing. Except… our bodies. Lana, as usual, picked up her milk, stood by the window, and gazed out at the vast, desolate landscape beyond the walls. Bathed in the warm sunlight, her skin was as fair as snow, gentle and appealing, like a pristine angel. I, on the other hand, stared at the food on the table, my heart filled with mounting anxiety. Lana turned, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?” I recounted, word for word, everything the doctors had said. “This place is too strange. We need to find a way back to our original world, fast.” She remained silent, not immediately responding. After a long pause, she softly asked, “Skye, isn’t it good here?” I frowned, bewildered. What was good about this place? The apocalypse had raged for a century. The climate was brutally extreme, the ecosystem severely unbalanced, food was desperately scarce, and mindless husks roamed everywhere… This, clearly, was a living hell. But she continued, her voice wistful: “Here, we don’t have to worry about finding jobs, or fret over food and clothes. We don’t have to toil tirelessly just to buy a house or pay off a mortgage. No one bullies us. Everyone takes great care of us, showing us profound concern.” “For me… this place is paradise.” I shook my head, my voice firm. “There’s no such thing as kindness without cause in this world. All good intentions have a price, a root. “With women so scarce here, our price is likely childbirth. It’s the sacrifice of these bodies.” Lana gently brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “But Skye, in our original world, we would also have to give birth, to dedicate our bodies, wouldn’t we?” 2 A man stepped into my room, stopping by my bed. I knew him. His name was Caleb. He was the son of the former Ark Sanctuary Commander. And also the most ruthless, cold-blooded security officer. Rumor had it he’d personally ended his parents’ lives when he was just ten years old. The first time I saw him, I was struck by his striking appearance. But who would have thought that the next second, his gun would be pointed directly at my head? Lana and I had transmigrated while we were at an amusement park. A sudden sinkhole had opened up, and Lana and I simply plummeted down. At that time, I was still wearing my gray-blue contact lenses. And gray-blue eyes, in this post-apocalyptic world, were the mark of an infected. Caleb had mistaken me for one. Although the misunderstanding was later cleared, he always held a deep aversion to me. He hated that I, a human, had adorned my eyes with the color of the infected. Yet, the Sanctuary had assigned him to oversee Lana’s and my safety. He was an absolute enforcer of orders; even if he loathed me, he had no choice but to carry out his duties. I held no fondness for him either. Many in the Sanctuary disliked him. They whispered that the security officers were mere lapdogs of the elite, and Caleb was the fiercest, most loyal one among them. Caleb stopped beside my bed. I heard the sharp, metallic click of his belt buckle being unfastened. My guess was right. Their objective tonight was to ensure our impregnation. I stopped pretending to sleep. I sat up, pressing the small, pre-prepared knife against my throat, articulating each word carefully: “Get out, or I’ll die right here in front of you.” The knife was meticulously sharpened. My hand trembled slightly, and the blade sliced into my skin. Warm blood welled, tracing a searing line down my neck. I was gambling. Gambling that he couldn’t, wouldn’t dare, let me die. Sure enough, Caleb froze. A flicker of confusion crossed his expression. It seemed I wasn’t supposed to be awake. I immediately thought of the milk from earlier today. I hadn’t drunk mine. Lana, not wanting to waste it, had consumed my portion. That’s why she had fallen asleep so early. They had drugged the milk. Now, another man had already entered Lana’s room. I continued to leverage the threat of my death against Caleb: “I said, get out now, and take them with you.” But the next second, my knife was snatched away, and my mouth was firmly covered by his hand. I struggled, but I was utterly powerless. For the first time, I felt a desperate, stark awareness of the immense strength disparity between a man and a woman. Especially against the most formidable fighter in the Sanctuary. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I did not want to be forced to conceive. So I bit down hard on Caleb’s hand, the metallic taste of blood quickly filling my mouth. Caleb remained impassive. But he made no further move. A voice crackled through his comms unit: “Major Caleb, what’s your status?” Caleb glanced at me. “She’s awake, uncooperative, and engaged in self-harm.” The voice paused. “Understood. Terminate the mission for now. Don’t let her injure herself.” Caleb: “Understood.” He released me. I pushed him away and jumped off the bed. I had to save Lana. But Caleb simply tossed me back onto the bed. Assuming he intended to continue, I sneered, “What, is your dog going to defy his master’s orders now?” He lowered his gaze, saying nothing. He unfastened his belt and bound my hands to the headboard, then gagged me with a cloth. Then, he pulled up a chair and sat facing me. 3 In the silent darkness, the creaking of Lana’s metal bed in the next room was starkly audible. Along with her soft, muffled whimpers. She should have been deep in sleep. But now, she was clearly lost in physical pleasure. It seemed the milk contained more than just a sedative. And there were six other men outside. The doctors had said these were our “matches.” I didn’t know if all of them were meant to participate. I blamed myself for not preparing Lana, for not warning her in time. After what felt like an eternity, the sounds from Lana’s room finally ceased. Someone spoke to the man. Then, the man led Lana away. Panic surged through me. Once Caleb finally untied me, I demanded, “Where are you taking Lana?” Caleb didn’t answer directly, only saying, “Your current state would affect her. You’ll meet again when the time is right.” I asked others, but no one offered an explanation. Two months since we transmigrated, and for the first time, Lana and I had lost contact. 4 I was isolated. Even Caleb, who had been my constant shadow, didn’t appear. The door was locked. I picked up a chair and slammed it against the window, only to discover the glass was specially reinforced. My strength was useless against it. This tower, once the only place with a view of the world outside, had become an aerial cage. I dared not eat. I feared they would drug the food. After enduring a full day and night like this, Caleb and an elderly man with white hair appeared before me. Hope ignited in my heart when I saw the elder. On the day Caleb had almost killed me, mistaking me for an infected, it was this old man who had stopped him. I didn’t know his identity, but from his attire and demeanor, his rank was clearly higher than Caleb’s. He asked kindly, “Is the food not to your liking, child? Grandpa can have them prepare something else.” I thought he was my savior. “Please, let my friend and me go. We can work for our food.” I told him Lana and I had both studied bioengineering, surely we could contribute to the Sanctuary. The old man listened patiently, then gently stroked my head. “Child, your work is to bear children.” I stared at him in disbelief. I thought, a wise elder like him should understand that procreation should not be forced. He then pointed to Caleb and asked, “Does Major Caleb not appeal to you? He is the most handsome man here, and his genetic compatibility with you is the highest.” “However, if you truly cannot accept him, you may choose someone you prefer.” “Your feelings are paramount. We will fully respect your choice.” I slowly backed away. “I refuse to be a breeding machine. I’d rather die.” The old man showed no anger. He calmly instructed Caleb to remove all food and water, leaving nothing behind. Caleb paused, “All of it?” The old man nodded. “All of it.” Caleb looked as if he wanted to speak further but held his tongue. I didn’t care. Because at that moment, I genuinely felt that being forced to procreate was worse than death. But in the days that followed, they gave me no food, only a small cup of corn juice daily to sustain my life. And the windows were all sealed with iron plates. I couldn’t hear sounds or see the sunlight. Initially, I could endure the darkness and hunger, sustained by memories of my beautiful life in the original world. But the hunger gradually made my throat and stomach burn as if on fire, becoming increasingly unbearable. By the seventh day, my consciousness began to blur. I thought I heard Lana’s cries, begging someone to save me. I used every ounce of strength to crawl to the door, weakly banging on it. It felt like ages, but finally, a pair of leather boots appeared before me, the light so blinding I couldn’t open my eyes. I clutched the boots tightly. “I… agree… to… your terms…” A bowl of plain white porridge was handed to me. I clutched the bowl with both hands and devoured it ravenously. I had believed my will would be as unyielding as a revolutionary martyr, but in the end, one bowl of bland porridge reduced me to begging on the floor. I also clearly realized that if I didn’t yield, they truly would let me starve to death. In their world, procreation was more important than life itself. After eating, I finally regained some strength. I looked up at the person who had given me the porridge. It was Caleb. He still wore that indifferent expression. “Going too long without food can hurt your stomach. You don’t need to eat so fast.” The person who came with him scoffed at me. “I thought you were so tough. Couldn’t even last seven days. There was someone else who…” Caleb shot the person a look, and they immediately shut up. The old man also arrived, bringing a few other potential partners. He still spoke to me kindly. “We respect your feelings. You can choose someone you like.” 5 I still chose Caleb. He was the one with the highest genetic compatibility with me. Though the old man outwardly said he allowed me to choose, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And the female doctor who had examined me earlier had also said: “Combining with the person of highest genetic compatibility is beneficial for you.” “If a less compatible match doesn’t result in conception within two months, they will immediately be replaced by someone else.” “This will continue until you successfully become pregnant.” I asked her, “Why don’t you use artificial reproduction?” “Because all children conceived through artificial means will die from various sudden illnesses around six or seven months. Only natural, human conception is the most stable.” “Are all the women here living like this?” She shook her head. “Not all. Some women… they no longer have the ability to bear children.” “Is it because they’re old?” She didn’t answer me, her expression shadowed with sadness. She reported to the old man that my physical functions had declined due to starvation, and I needed a few days to recover before being intimate with Caleb. The old man did not agree. She sighed and advised me, “Major Caleb isn’t a bad person. Since you’ve accepted the pairing, try to embrace him. It will be easier for you, and it will benefit your future.” Her expression was earnest. I thought she must have gone through something similar to say those words to me. Only Caleb and I remained in the room. He was cleaning his firearm. I stood by the window, gazing at a white building in the distance. Lana and I had materialized just outside that building when we transmigrated. I had tried several times to reach that building, hoping to find a way back to our world, but I could only observe it from the outside; I couldn’t get in. I had yielded to my present circumstances, but I never intended to stay here forever. I had to find a way back into that building. 6 I finished showering and lay in bed. In the silent night, I heard faint sounds of intimacy. From the bottom of the tower to the top, floor by floor. Like a dense, interwoven net, it suffocated me. Caleb moved over me. The pain forced me to find something to distract myself. I asked him, “Did your previous partner have a child?” He gripped my waist. “She died.” “How… did she die?” “Infected.” “And did she successfully conceive before she died?” “No, I hadn’t even met her when she passed.” He looked at me, his amber eyes devoid of desire. Only instinct. The instinct to reproduce. He hadn’t even removed his shirt. The stiff fabric chafed my skin, a dull ache. His gun remained in his hand, a constant vigilance. I stared at the cold night moon outside the window, wishing for dawn to break quickly. Such nights continued for three days. On the morning of the fourth day, the Ark Sanctuary’s alarms blared. Infected had breached the perimeter. Normally, Caleb wouldn’t have to go, but this issue was particularly tricky and required his expertise. My second designated partner was left by my side. He wasn’t much older than seventeen or eighteen, and like Caleb, he was a man of few words. I asked him his name. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his cap brim, but his earlobes flushed. “Jaxon.” I smiled. “Your name means ‘star of the game,’ doesn’t it? It’s really beautiful.” He nodded, a little nervous. “Th-thank you.” I started to get up and get dressed. He turned away to give me privacy. I deliberately called out to him, “You don’t have to be so formal. Anyway… if I don’t get pregnant in two months, you’ll be the one sleeping here with me.” He stopped, stumbling over his words. “Major Caleb… he has the highest compatibility with you. You two will succeed.” “Who knows? I’ve heard many people fail.” “No… no, he’s very capable.” “This isn’t something capability alone can ensure.” I walked up to him, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. His eyes were beautiful, and filled with a frantic energy. His breathing was unsteady, his chest gently rising and falling. I knew when to stop. “I’m hungry. Could you get me something to eat?” “Okay.” He fled as if released. Lana was returned at that very moment. 7 Lana hugged me tightly, her eyes welling with tears as she remarked on how thin I had become. Anxiously, I asked her, “Where have you been these past few days?” “Just on the floor below.” “With whom?” “With a few other girls, and…” She instinctively bit her lip, then glanced towards the door. Following her gaze, I saw the man who had entered her room that first night. The dim light had obscured his features then, but now I recognized him as Reid, the son of the Sanctuary’s current Commander. It was strange. Why were all these highly genetically compatible men the sons of the elite? Even stranger that Reid would agree to be paired with Lana. He had always been aloof, looking down on commoners, even advocating for abandoning them and keeping only the elite due to resource scarcity. It was ironic. Even with the Sanctuary’s population dwindling to less than three hundred thousand, its class divisions remained stark. Lana said there were other girls in the tower. Remembering the intimate sounds I’d heard last night, it seemed this tower housed others like Lana and me. “So, you’ve been with him all these days?” Lana softly assented. “So you knew what we were going through?” “Yes.” “And you agreed?” “Whether I agreed or not, I couldn’t change anything.” Her nature had always been to endure hardship. This was likely due to her orphaned childhood, living under the care of others. But we were best friends. I wouldn’t leave her behind. “If I can find a way back, you’ll come with me, right?” She nodded. “Yes.” My heart settled a little. Ever since she said this place was paradise, I worried she truly intended to stay. 8 I lived day to day, waiting for an opportunity. By day, I followed their instructions, taking my medicine and eating, and with Lana, we tried to recall details of our transmigration, hoping to find a clue. By night, I lay on the narrow bed, enduring Caleb. Lana adapted to all of this more easily than I did. She adapted to Reid’s bad temper, and also to his arrogance. Ten days later, my period arrived as expected. The doctors were somewhat disappointed, believing my prolonged starvation had affected my body. But they quickly rallied, because Lana was pregnant. A wave of jubilation swept through the Ark Sanctuary. Initially, I couldn’t understand such intense excitement, until Lana told me she was the first natural conception in the Sanctuary in nearly five years.

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When my girlfriend, Maya, received a call mentioning her ex-boyfriend Ethan’s grandfather and father had both passed away, she worried about Ethan’s mental state and decided to go care for him. As for her own father, Mr. Davis, still recovering in the hospital, she told me it was my chance to impress him, to win his approval as soon as possible. Hearing her devotion to her ex-boyfriend, I found myself envying her deep affection. And so, I began the process of becoming her ex-boyfriend. 01 I was driving Maya to visit her father when her phone rang, and she answered Ethan’s call. She wore headphones, so I couldn’t make out what Ethan was saying. But the way Maya’s hand instinctively reached to soothe an unseen distress, combined with the quick, guilt-edged flick of her eyes my way, spoke volumes. Finally, she took a deep breath, steeling herself, and declared softly, “Don’t be sad, I’m on my way to you now.” “It’s okay, he’ll understand.” After hanging up, she asked me to pull over. “Ethan’s in a bad place emotionally,” she explained softly. “I need to go comfort him.” My voice was flat. “Think this through.” A flicker of impatience crossed her face. “Ethan just lost his grandfather and father. Try to be more understanding.” I reminded her again. “Are you sure you want to leave me here, right now?” Her impatience sharpened. “Be sensible, get out.” I simply smiled. “Fine.” Her brow smoothed, and she adjusted her posture, perhaps intending to offer a reassuring word, but I stepped out of the car without another glance. Her hand, suspended in mid-air, slowly withdrew as she sighed. “It’ll be up to you to visit Dad at the hospital. Make a good impression, try to get his approval soon.” With that, she drove away. I called a rideshare and went straight back to Maya’s apartment, packing all my belongings. I had my own small apartment, only staying at hers occasionally, so my things were few. I finished packing quickly. Mid-move, I received a call from the hospital. They said Mr. Davis’s prepaid fees had run out and I needed to settle the bill. Mr. Davis was Maya’s father, a regular at the hospital. Since I had once paid a bill for him, it had somehow become my ongoing responsibility. Maya was too proud not to repay me, but she always deducted a small amount and delayed the transfer for an annoyingly long time. I directly gave them Maya’s number, stating that I was no longer associated with them and they should call her for payment. After some thought, to be fully responsible, I still tried to call Maya to inform her. But she didn’t pick up. After multiple attempts, she blocked my number. To ensure the message got through, I used another number to text her about the hospital bill and then informed her I was breaking up with her. From that point on, whatever happened was no longer my concern. 02 The next morning, I arrived at the company early to resign. Years ago, she had asked me to build this business with her, yet she intended for me to work as her assistant, without a title or proper recognition. She’d told me everything she owned would eventually be mine, and she’d give me a generous allowance each month, so I shouldn’t worry about shares or positions. She’d also keep my official salary low to help me with tax avoidance. Back then, I was still deeply in love with her, so I willingly abandoned a promising career path to join her startup. But her proposition still felt instinctively wrong. At the time, I’d firmly told her: “My salary is earned income, and paying taxes is my duty. Besides, I’m young and perfectly capable; what sense does it make for me to live off your allowance?” “Furthermore, without a proper title, my authority would be undermined. No legitimate company has its CEO’s personal assistant handling all business negotiations. How would I manage subordinates then? You’re building a real company, not some fly-by-night operation.” Maya’s face darkened, but she eventually relented, giving me an appropriate position and salary. She certainly had talent. Over the years, the company had expanded, from a single office to occupying three floors in the city’s most prestigious commercial district. But this would soon no longer concern me. After breaking up, I certainly wouldn’t stay with this company. Yet, I didn’t expect to see Ethan when I walked into Maya’s office. Before I could even register my surprise, she immediately accosted me. “What was that yesterday? I told you to go see my dad first, didn’t I? Do you know… Luckily I sent Sam.” I hadn’t closed the door yet. Sam, who was just passing by, heard her words, looked mortified, and hurried away. Sam was Maya’s assistant. She frequently sent him on personal errands without paying him overtime. I’d repeatedly advised her not to be so unreasonable, and she’d only grudgingly given Sam a small raise. I closed the door, a cold smirk on my face. “I called you to explain, but you were with Ethan then, so you blocked me.” Ethan’s face darkened at my words. “I know I shouldn’t have disturbed Maya and Mr. Li yesterday, but Maya and I were simply being friends. Mr. Li, you can’t slander me like that.” Maya also looked displeased. “Alex, don’t just spout nonsense. I told you yesterday I was just going to comfort Ethan. Don’t be so crude in your thoughts.” “Comfort him so much you brought him to work with you today?” Maya froze. “Ethan said he wanted something to do, so I brought him along. From today, he’ll take your position, and you’ll be his second-in-command.” I was stunned. “What?” She was indignant. “Ethan needs to gain work experience… Don’t worry, apart from the position change, all other benefits remain the same.” Ethan stubbornly interjected, “I won’t be staying at Maya’s company long, Mr. Li. You don’t need to worry.” I laughed. “Then who’s going to do the work?” The responsibilities of a director and a deputy director differed significantly. Maya’s tone wavered. “Ethan has been abroad; he’s not very familiar with the local business environment. Just help him out.” “Never mind,” Ethan said, feigning magnanimity, “My request was a bit much. I’ll find another way.” “Wait!” Maya grabbed Ethan’s arm, then turned to me. “Alex, be sensible. I haven’t even blamed you for yesterday’s incident yet.” “Enough. Don’t play this game.” I smiled faintly. “I quit.” 03 News of my resignation quickly spread through the company. My team members messaged me in our group chat, expressing their concern and asking if I intended to take them with me. I was surprised. Was Maya really that unpopular? But then again, it made perfect sense. In the early days of the startup, things were fine. But as the company grew, Maya became less respectful of her employees, often cutting benefits. Her employees mostly received empty promises. The more I tried to advise her, the more displeased she became, starting to lecture me with her “upper-echelon mindset.” I didn’t want to burn all bridges, and I also wanted to take some time off before finding a new job, so I politely declined their offer. These subordinates were all highly capable, and I knew they could easily find better jobs elsewhere if they left. A few days later, I unexpectedly received a call from a headhunter. They said Horizon Corp. was offering me twice my current salary and other generous terms to join their company. They even mentioned that if I could bring my team, the salary could be negotiated further. After hanging up, I was perplexed. Horizon Corp. was a national business giant. While Maya’s company had grown, it was incomparable to Horizon. Why would they use a headhunter to poach me and my team? I initially thought it was a scam, but the documents the headhunter sent confirmed it was indeed Horizon Corp. I couldn’t for the life of me recall any connection I had with Horizon, but it was a rare opportunity, so I replied that I was willing to meet. Just then, Maya asked me to come to her office. I entered to find her with a dark expression. “What do you want?” “Why aren’t you cooperating with Ethan?” “Cooperating with what? Fetching coffee, making copies, delivering files? Is that my job?” “…He’s new, but you don’t have to be so rude. You could teach him.” “I’m already organizing the handover documents. I’ll get them to him as soon as possible. Until then, tell him not to bother me.” “Handover for what? You’ll still be the director once he leaves.” “We’ve broken up. It’s not appropriate for me to stay at the company.” “Break up? I didn’t agree!” Maya abruptly stood up, her face livid. “Are you serious, Alex? You’re condemning me for just one mistake?” “It’s not just one. Have you forgotten two years ago?” Two years ago, on the day Maya and I planned to celebrate our anniversary, Ethan suddenly called, saying he had a fever and felt terrible. Maya, despite my protests, insisted on leaving to take Ethan to the hospital. She returned two days later, then profusely apologized, claiming she couldn’t bear the thought of Ethan being alone and uncared for in the city, with his family far away. She promised me it would never happen again. My feelings for her were still deep then, so I forgave her, but I also told her there would be no second chance. Now, hearing me say this, Maya suddenly laughed. “Are you jealous? You remember something from so long ago. Alright, I promise you, after I help him this time, I won’t contact him again. And please, give me another chance. Don’t they say ‘third time’s the charm’?” I shook my head. “You should focus on getting him up to speed with the work.” Her face changed. “Are you serious?” “What do you think?” I turned and left the office, hearing the sound of something shattering as I closed the door. For me, there was no ‘third time’s the charm.’ Forgiving her once was already a lapse in judgment brought on by love. 04 I returned to my office and saw Ethan directing someone to move a cardboard box. The person dragged their feet, clearly reluctant, and visibly relaxed when they saw me. A cold knot formed in my stomach, and I frowned. “Such a rush?” Ethan stood with his arms crossed. “Maya said this office is mine now, so I asked someone to pack your things.” I shot him a look. “You could have waited for me. Is it your upbringing to mess with other people’s belongings when they’re not around?” I took the cardboard box from the person’s hands. “You can go now.” The person eagerly agreed and left. Stepping into the office, I quickly searched through the box. Ethan quickly followed. “What are you doing?” “Checking for anything missing or damaged.” He scoffed. “Do you think I’d take your stuff?” Just then, at the bottom of the box, I found the pen I had been worried about. The moment I saw it, blood rushed to my head. That treasured fountain pen, a gift from my grandfather after he graduated high school, which I had used ever since his passing, was now carelessly tossed in the box with its cap, the nib splayed and ruined—clearly from being dropped. It took every ounce of my self-control, deep, shaky breaths, to rein in my fury. I held up the ruined pen, its splayed nib glinting accusingly, towards Ethan. “How do you explain this?” Ethan shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “It just slipped and fell when I was packing. You can always get a new one, can’t you?” Hearing his dismissive tone, my patience snapped. My right hand immediately lashed out, landing a heavy punch on his face. He was stunned, reeling. Coming to his senses, he clutched his face, his expression livid. “You hit me!” I sneered. “And I’ll do it again!” Just as I was about to land another blow, someone shoved me. I collided with the corner of my office desk, a sharp pain shooting through my left hand. Maya’s face was chalk-white with fury. “It’s just a pen, is it worth hitting someone over?” I stared intently at her. “You know what this pen means to me.” “So what? A pen is just an object. I’ll buy you a new one. Now apologize to Ethan.” My last shred of hope withered. “You’ve crossed a line, Maya. Don’t expect me to hold back anymore.”

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