Author: Momo Chan

It was a national holiday. My little sister wanted to lie down across the entire back seat to sleep, so my mother told me to get in the trunk. I obeyed, folding my thin, frail body into a painfully contorted position. “Don’t crush the luggage,” my mother said, her voice flat. Then she slammed the trunk shut. The suffocating heat of the enclosed space and the lurching of the car triggered my asthma. I fumbled in my pocket for my inhaler, only to find the canister was empty. An image flashed in my mind: my sister handing me the inhaler earlier that day, a knowing, malicious smile on her face. As my vision blurred, I heard my mother’s voice, cold and distant. “We’ll just drop her off at my cousin’s place. Give her a little extra money. I’m so sick of looking at her.” Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling. Don’t worry, Mom. You won’t have to be sick of me for much longer. 1. In the final moments of consciousness, they say hearing is the last sense to go. I heard my mother finally mention me, her voice, which had been so warm a moment before, turning to ice. “We were supposed to have a nice, relaxing trip, and now we have to make this stupid detour to my cousin’s…” She clicked her tongue, the sound full of irritation. The mere thought of me was enough to ruin her mood. Today was a holiday. The whole family was going on a trip to the capital, and my mother had told me to pack a bag. I was surprised, and so happy. I thought, for a moment, that I was finally being included, that I was finally a part of the family. I never imagined she was planning on throwing me away, like a piece of trash. In the dark, stuffy trunk, the only sound was my own ragged, desperate breathing. Cold sweat poured down my face. My chest felt like it was being crushed. Suffocation and despair washed over me in a final, crushing wave. At the very end, I curled into a ball, like an infant in the womb, and instinctively whispered the name I had spent my entire life hoping would answer me. Mom… Mom… I died. My soul drifted out of the dark trunk. I floated past my sister in the back seat, sleeping peacefully under a pink, hand-knitted blanket my mother had made for her. My mother was texting my great-aunt, who was being evasive, leaving her messages on read. She typed again, her patience wearing thin. [Cici is very capable. She can handle all the housework, you won’t have to worry about a thing. She’s not very bright, not cut out for school, so you don’t need to waste money on that.] She was like a desperate salesperson trying to offload defective merchandise. I reached out, wanting to smooth the worried frown from her brow, to tell her, Mom, don’t worry. I’m dead now. The baby you tried to abort, the stain you could never wash away, the landmine you were always trying to avoid, is finally gone from your life. The car soon arrived at my great-aunt’s house. Only my mother got out. “Oh, I was starting to think you weren’t coming! Shouldn’t you be enjoying the holiday?” “Auntie, we talked about this. Cici isn’t used to the city. I don’t have a choice…” My mother didn’t give her a chance to refuse, pulling a thick wad of cash from her purse. To my surprise, my great-aunt didn’t take it. She glanced at the money, her face a mask of conflict, but then shook her head. “You know how it is here. I don’t make the decisions in this house.” My mother knew it was a lost cause. Her frown deepened. “Where’s Cici? I’ve hardly ever seen the poor girl. Let her come out and say hello.” My great-aunt was trying to ease the tension. My mother turned and looked toward the trunk. Is she going to find me? What will she do when she finds out I’m dead? A sliver of dark anticipation bloomed in my chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” my great-aunt said, her voice dropping, “but if you hadn’t been so foolish back then, none of this would be happening. You have to pay for the mistakes you make when you’re young.” The comment struck a nerve. My mother’s face went cold. “We’re leaving,” she snapped, turning and getting back in the car without another word. 2. My mother hated me. She was the only person from her village to ever go to college, but she got pregnant during her freshman year. She was young, naive, and completely infatuated with my father, a man ten years her senior. She dropped out of school, cut ties with her family, and threw herself into a life she would come to regret forever. A year later, she showed up on my grandmother’s doorstep and left me there. She went back to school, got a respectable job in the city, and started a new family. She had a wealthy husband and a beautiful daughter. She was a success story, a happy, fulfilled woman. She never went back to the small, gossipy village that remembered her as a cautionary tale. Until I was fourteen. At my grandmother’s funeral. The woman I had only ever seen in photographs appeared before me. She was so young, she didn’t look old enough to be my mother. She went through the motions of the funeral with a cold, detached air, gave me an address, and said, “Come find me here.” Then she was gone. It was my first time in the city. I was like a stray dog, lost and scared. The apartment building had a security code. It was the first of many barriers I would never be able to cross. On the other side of that door was my mother, her husband, and her other daughter. I waited outside for a long time. It was nearly a hundred degrees. I was dizzy with the heat, sweat pouring down my face. As my consciousness began to drift, I thought of my grandmother. Whenever the other kids in the village called me a bastard, I would hide in the wheat fields, watching the waves of gold and green, and wait for her to find me. She would hold me, muttering angrily, “What’s so great about your mother anyway?” But then she would see my tears and soften. “It’s okay, Cici. When you’re a little older, your mom will come back for you.” I had looked forward to that day with all my heart. I never knew it would cost my grandmother her life. My mother did come for me. She arrived with her young daughter in tow, the smile on her face vanishing the second she saw me. That was the first time I felt the full force of her malice. She made no effort to hide her disgust. My very existence was a boomerang, returning to strike her down, to remind her of the past she had tried so desperately to bury. I was the living, breathing proof that her carefully constructed life was a lie. And then, her precious daughter started accusing me of bullying her. My mother finally snapped. She decided to get rid of me. “Alright, don’t be angry. We’ll just send her to a boarding school,” my stepfather said, his voice casual as he drove. “Ava wants to go to the theme park in the capital. You should book the tickets, look up some guides. Don’t waste your energy on this. We’re on vacation.” At the mention of a theme park, my sister, Ava, woke up immediately. She started chattering excitedly about what rides she wanted to go on, even offering to use her allowance to buy my mother a magic wand. They laughed together, a happy, perfect family. They had already forgotten about me in the trunk. Around noon, we finally arrived at the theme park. My mother checked us into a hotel. A princess-themed suite that cost over a thousand dollars a night. She didn’t even blink, because Ava liked it. Then she transferred a thousand dollars to Ava’s account. “Sweetie,” she cooed into the phone, “go check out the gift shops at the entrance. Buy whatever you like.” My mother never held back when it came to her daughter. She gave her anything she wanted, raised her like a princess. Ava lived in a pink, lace-filled room full of toys, while I slept in a storage closet. My world was a three-foot-wide cot, surrounded by Ava’s cast-off toys, surrounded by the love my mother showered on her. Just like now. I stubbornly followed my mother, wanting to reach out with my ghostly hand and secretly, gently, hold hers. But then Ava squeezed between us, passing right through my soul, and wrapped her arms around my mother’s waist with a natural, easy affection I had never known. 3. I ate lunch with my mother. At home, there were only ever three chairs at the dinner table. I always sat on a small stool in the corner, eating my food quickly and silently. Ava would deliberately put spoiled food on my plate. I would eat it without complaint. I would look at my mother, hoping she would praise me for being good, for not wasting food. But her gaze was always full of disgust, as if she were looking at a filthy stray dog. Then she would turn and put a piece of meat in Ava’s bowl, telling her to eat up. I was a rat in the shadows, watching a life I could never have. Now, pretending I was still alive, I sat beside her, fulfilling my pathetic childhood dream of eating at the same table as my mother. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was a message from my great-aunt. [The Miller family in the village is willing to take Cici in.] She hesitated, then added: [But you know they have that simple-minded son. They’re probably looking for a child bride for him.] “Oh, right! Isn’t Cici still in the trunk?” My stepfather finally remembered me, slapping the table. My mother froze, a flicker of confusion on her face. Then she remembered, and her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s the rush? It’s not like she’s going to die.” She scoffed, the sound laced with the irritation of having her good mood spoiled. [Thanks, Auntie. It’s fine, Cici’s old enough. I’m just giving her a place to stay. What happens after that is her own business. I’m not getting involved.] After sending the message, she visibly relaxed. “It’s pretty hot today. Do you think Cici will be okay in the trunk?” my stepfather asked, a hint of unease in his voice. “She grew up in that village without air conditioning and she survived, didn’t she? Besides, it’s not completely airtight. It’s only been a few hours. What’s the worst that can happen?” she said, smiling as she served Ava more food. Ava hated hearing my name. She quickly distracted my stepfather with a story. The three of them were soon laughing again, and I was forgotten. A dull, delayed ache spread through my chest. My mother didn’t care about me. I shook my head, trying to comfort myself. It’s okay. I don’t want to ruin her good mood. And I haven’t seen a big city theme park before. I want to ride the roller coaster with my mother. I followed Ava from ride to ride. I watched my mother smile at her, and I pretended she was smiling at me. Deep in my soul, something began to crumble. In the afternoon, my stepfather’s phone rang. It was an unknown number. [Hello, is this Mr. Evans? I think there might be something rotting in your car. It’s a hot day, and the smell is starting to bother people. You might want to come check it out.] My stepfather was confused, but my mother snatched the phone from his hand and hung up. “It’s probably just Cici, trying to get attention,” she said with a cold smirk. “What a nuisance. Just ignore her.” “If someone calls to tell me to come pick up her body, I’d still think it was a hassle.” The words were spoken so casually. But they hit me like a physical blow, a knife twisting in my gut. I drifted away from my mother, and saw the crowd gathered around my stepfather’s car. They were holding their noses, pointing at the trunk. “What on earth is in there? That smell is not right. It’s like something died.” The man leading the group seemed to be a vlogger, a camera hanging around his neck. His face was lit with a grim excitement. “You guys don’t think… there’s a body in there, do you?” he whispered.

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My best friend got a divorce. She left me with her son… and a billion dollars. I raised him from a boy into a man, and just as I was ready to embrace my life as a single, wealthy woman, my surrogate son saw the box of ultra-thin condoms on my nightstand during a video call. That night, he scaled the school wall and raced home in a frenzy. He slammed me against the wall, one hand closing around my neck, the other tearing open the small foil packet. “Kate,” he rasped, his voice a low growl. “If you’re so desperate for a man, why not me?” 1 Slap! The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the silent room. Nolan’s assault finally stopped, his fingers loosening their grip on my throat. I scrambled to sit up, gasping for air. My lips moved, but for a moment, no sound came out. Finally, I managed to choke out a few words. “You’re supposed to call me your godmother.” A livid red handprint was already blooming on Nolan’s cheek, but he didn’t say a word. The torn wrapper lay on the white sheets, a startlingly obscene piece of evidence. The events of the last few minutes were beyond anything I could have imagined, and a sick, anxious knot was tightening in my chest. I pulled up the fallen strap of my nightgown, desperate to pretend this wasn’t happening. “I understand you’re upset about me dating,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “No kid wants a blended family. I get it.” “I promise,” I continued, forcing a placating tone, “I’ll wait two more years. Until after you graduate college. Then I’ll think about my own life.” “But you have to promise me you won’t act out like this ever again.” “Act out.” Such a simple, sanitized phrase to cover the grotesque scene that had just unfolded. But it was clear my attempt to smooth things over was a pathetic fantasy. Nolan wasn’t taking the olive branch. His gaze was a blade of pure mockery. “Kate, I almost fucking took you right here, and you’re calling it ‘acting out’?” 2 The blood drained from my face, a roar filling my ears. “Nolan, shut your mouth!” I hissed. He fell silent. The atmosphere in the room turned thick and suffocating. I clutched the bedsheets, my mind racing, trying to pinpoint where everything had gone so horribly wrong. Was it because he was abandoned by his parents at twelve, stunting his emotional growth? Or was it my own inexperience? Had I failed to guide him through the turbulent years of his adolescence? A storm of chaotic thoughts swirled in my head. Before I realized what was happening, Nolan had collapsed onto my lap, burying his face in my stomach. “Kate,” he murmured. He was back to using my name, refusing to call me his godmother. “It’s just us. It’s always been just us. Isn’t that enough?” No. It wasn’t. If I were twenty-two and he were a handsome, predatory twenty-year-old stranger whispering those words to me, I would have fallen head over heels. But I’m thirty. And Nolan isn’t a stranger. He’s my best friend’s son. The boy I’ve raised for the last eight years. My godson. 3 I stared into the darkness, sleep a million miles away. The man who was supposed to be lying next to me, a promising new prospect from my recent dating efforts, had been unceremoniously punched out of the hotel room by Nolan hours ago. Now, the usurper himself was wrapped around me from behind, his arms a steel cage around my waist. “Kate,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against my back. “If you can’t sleep, we could still put that little thing to use.” I squeezed my eyes shut. A soft chuckle vibrated through me, and the arms around my waist tightened. Half an hour later, Nolan’s breathing evened out into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep. Young people always fall asleep so fast. I continued to stare at the ceiling until the sudden glare of my phone screen illuminated the room. Kate, are you awake? I’m planning on coming home. Two simple messages. That’s all it took to demolish the fragile sense of calm I had spent hours trying to build. Regina Miller. My best friend, ten years my senior, and Nolan’s biological mother. After nearly a decade of living abroad, she was coming back. If I had received this news before tonight, I would have been ecstatic. Eight years! I’d raised her son for eight long years. The thought of finally unloading the burden who had kept me single and shackled for almost a decade should have been a dream come true. But life is a cruel joke. Nolan’s words from earlier echoed in my mind, a deafening roar. “If any man will do, Kate, then why not me?” I lay awake the entire night. It wasn’t until the first hint of dawn painted the sky that I finally replied. When’s your flight? Nolan and I will pick you up. 4 Regina’s return was sudden. Her flight was the next afternoon, leaving me no time to process the wreckage of the previous night. I had to plaster a serene mask on my face and prepare to greet the best friend I hadn’t seen in years. Nolan, however, was a different story. Since last night, his recklessness had only intensified. While I was brushing my teeth, he crowded in behind me, his taller frame easily eclipsing mine. “You smell so good, Kate.” His hot breath ghosted across my neck. Before I could even spit out the toothpaste, his mouth was on mine, his tongue aggressively sweeping away the foam. “Nolan!” I shoved him away, my hands trembling. I raised one to strike him again, but it faltered mid-air. Under his defiant, brazen gaze, I finally slapped him, hard. “This is the last time I’m telling you,” I seethed, my voice dangerously low. “I am your godmother!” That was the second time I’d hit him. In all the years before, even when he was a snarling twelve-year-old fresh from overseas, covered in bruises and bristling with anger, lashing out at everyone, I had never once laid a hand on him. Slap. Nolan’s head snapped to the side. A thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his lip. The dam of my feigned composure instantly cracked. “…Does it hurt?” I reached for him, but he flinched away. He stood just outside the bathroom door, his large frame hunched, radiating a dark, obsessive energy. My own weakness overwhelmed me. It took everything I had not to break. I finally managed to turn my head away, unable to meet his gaze. “Regina’s flight gets in tonight. You’re coming with me to pick her up.” 5 We waited at the arrivals gate for what felt like an eternity before Regina finally appeared. Her hair was styled in glamorous waves, and she wore a chic trench coat, looking as if time hadn’t touched her at all. I was about to raise the welcome sign when I saw her stop just around the corner to share an intimate kiss with her current husband. I froze, my eyes glued to the man at her side. He was holding a little boy, no older than three. The three of them stood together, a perfect, glowing portrait of a happy family. “Kate.” Nolan’s voice, tinged with a weary resignation, broke through my stupor. “I’m not crying. Why are you?” I was crying for him. Until this very moment, neither of us had known about the little boy. Without a word of warning, Regina had paraded her new child in front of the son she had abandoned. 6 The silence in the airport café was heavy enough to crush. In an attempt to break the tension, Regina gently pushed the little boy forward. “Teddy, I taught you some English. Say hello to your brother.” The little boy just fidgeted, refusing to speak. When she pressed him, he burst into tears. Regina flushed with embarrassment. Her husband quickly stood up. “I’ll take him for a walk,” he said in heavily accented English. As they left, Regina let out a sigh of relief. She turned to Nolan, a flicker of apology in her eyes. “Nolan, how are your classes? Are you adjusting well to being back in the States?” Nolan’s expression hadn’t changed since we’d arrived—a flat, emotionless mask. He wasn’t lashing out, but he wasn’t welcoming either. “I’ve been in college for two years already. Isn’t it a little late to ask?” Regina forced a weary smile. “Nolan, can’t you just try to have a normal conversation with me?” He scoffed. “Aren’t there enough people in your life to talk to?” The atmosphere soured further. I instinctively jumped in to defend him. “He caught up with his high school curriculum just fine. He got into a great university, and he’s thinking about studying abroad for his last two years.” Regina seized the lifeline. “Studying abroad is a great idea! I still have some connections in Europe, I could help Nolan…” “Not interested. I’m not going abroad.” Nolan cut her off without a shred of hesitation, his gaze cold and resolute. But his next words sent a chill down my spine. “And I’m never leaving Kate.” 7 Regina missed the hidden threat in his words and simply accepted it. “Well, that’s fine too. I’m planning on settling down here, so I’ll be around to help out.” The word “settling” made Nolan’s face darken. “You’re staying here? Regina, I thought you loved living in Europe. What are you doing back here?” His barrage of questions made Regina’s smile falter. “Nolan! Daniel already has his green card. Our family will be together soon. Even if you don’t like them, you could at least pretend!” “Ha!” Nolan’s reaction was more explosive than when he’d first seen her with a new child. A dark, unreadable expression flashed across his face as he glared first at his mother, then shot a deep, piercing look at me, before storming away from the table. Now it was just me and Regina. “Kate,” she said, taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. A gentle smile finally returned to her face. “You’ve become even more beautiful. It looks like life has been good to you these past few years.” “I was high-risk when I was pregnant with Teddy, so I spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. I didn’t have much energy to keep in touch.” She paused, her eyes softening. “Watching you with Nolan… you have a much better relationship with him than I ever did.” I listened in silence until her last sentence. I couldn’t stop myself from looking up. “Where are you planning on living, now that you’re back?” “I have a villa in the suburbs. We’ll move in there.” “And Nolan? Is he moving in with you?” At this, Regina fell silent. After a long moment, she managed a small, tight smile. “Kate, you’re my best friend, so I’ll be blunt. I have a new life now. Even if Nolan moved in with us, it would be awkward for him, and for us. It would be better for everyone if he just… stayed with you.” Tears started to well in my eyes. “That’s not fair.” It wasn’t fair to Nolan. And it wasn’t fair to me. 8 I never expected Nolan to reappear and drag me away from the table. I could hear Regina calling after us, but her voice was lost in the chaos. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved into a car, my face a mess of tears. Nolan leaned in close. He gently kissed away each tear as it fell. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I know she just dumped me on you again. But I can’t help it… Kate, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” No. That wasn’t true. He had places to go. When Regina divorced his father, she’d fought for the majority of their assets. She kept half and gave the other half… to me, to manage for Nolan. On his eighteenth birthday, I signed everything over to him. It included over thirty properties across the country. He could live in a different house every month of the year and not repeat. As if reading my mind, Nolan let out a bitter laugh. “Kate, I never had a home to begin with. If you abandon me too, where will I go?” His words shattered my resolve. I reached out and cupped his face, my vision blurred by tears. In that moment, I saw the twelve-year-old boy he used to be, fresh from overseas, his face and body a canvas of bruises from constant fights, his eyes full of hate and defiance. The first thing he ever said to me was a sneer. “So you’re the little charity case my father sponsored?” followed by a string of curses in a mix of English and his mother’s native tongue, each word filthier than the last. Eight years had passed. Now, the only filth that came from his mouth was of a different, more dangerous kind. “Kate, watching you cry like this doesn’t make me feel sorry for you. It just makes me want you more.” 9 After our rushed departure from the airport, Regina scheduled another meeting. She also transferred a huge sum of money into my account. Kate, I know I’ve wronged you. This is to compensate you. Nolan’s a grown man now. If he’s truly a burden, just ask him to move out. You can treat each other like siblings, just be there for each other when needed. Nolan read the messages over my shoulder, deleting them one by one with a cold smirk. “A burden? I’m so well-behaved. How could I possibly be a burden?” “You’re a burden to my love life,” I said flatly. I’d taken him in at twenty-two. The first six years were a constant battle, just learning how to coexist. After he turned eighteen, I’d gone on countless dates, and he had sabotaged every single one. The man from last night was the one I’d connected with the most, the one I’d been talking to the longest. Yes, we’d gotten a hotel room before even defining the relationship, but that was mostly my own desperation. I just wanted to be free of Nolan. “Hah.” He was angry again. He could never stand to hear me talk like this. “Kate, you knew saying that would make me angry, but you said it anyway. You need to be punished.” He bruised my lips, biting down until they were swollen and tender. I was too weak to push him away. I closed my eyes. “Nolan, can’t we just be like a normal brother and sister?” I wasn’t even asking him to see me as a godmother anymore. Just a sister to be respected. His lips pulled away just long enough to mock my foolish hope. “Have you ever heard of a brother who wants to sleep with his own sister?” I squeezed my eyes shut, a desolate wasteland spreading through my heart.

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A rich kid with a death wish loved to chase records underwater. To get his name in the books, he went on a solo cave dive, sixty meters down. Now, he’s trapped. As a professional rescue diver, I spent the better part of a day pulling him out of that rocky tomb. My reward? He went to the press and accused me of trying to murder him down there. The story was insane, but it stuck. I’d knocked him out, sure—it was his life or his ego, and I made my choice. But the damage was done. My reputation was in shreds. The upcoming international competition I’d trained my whole life for? Cancelled. My professional diving license? Revoked. A year passes. And then, I get the call. The same rich kid went back to the same cave. He’s chasing the same record. And he’s trapped. Again. In the one place on Earth that only I can reach. 1 I’d just finished my warm-up stretches when the emergency line buzzed. “Leo, you seeing this?” a frantic voice crackled on the other end. “It’s the Vance kid. Adam Vance. Went for a solo dive. It’s all over the news. They’re saying he’s missing, presumed dead.” Of course, I’d seen it. Every diver knows the cardinal rule: never dive alone. You always have a buddy. But Adam Vance wasn’t interested in rules. He was interested in clicks, in views, in the viral fame that came with thumbing your nose at death. And he’d chosen the deadliest stage imaginable: Wraithfall Caverns. A place no one had ever successfully navigated. No one except me. The name says it all. Wraithfall isn’t a cave; it’s a jagged maze, a treacherous labyrinth of twisting passages and sudden drops. It stretches nearly five miles, plunging to depths of over two hundred and sixty feet. The deeper you go, the tighter the squeeze. I have twelve years of experience, and the place nearly claimed me. For a hothead like Adam, with barely a year under his belt, it was a suicide mission. His whole stunt was a live-streamed spectacle for the world to watch. But five hours ago, the camera feed cut out. His rig had dropped, and he was wedged tight in a narrow bend in the rock. The Vance family had deployed a fleet of private rescue divers, but every single one had turned back, defeated. They didn’t have the skill to penetrate that deep. Their calls into the abyss were met with nothing but suffocating silence. Desperate, his father, the infamous tycoon Mr. Vance, found my number. He offered me five million dollars to bring his son back. I just asked him one cold, simple question. “If your son is already gone, or if an accident happens on the way back, am I liable?” The last frame from his stream showed his position clearly. He was trapped in the Serpent’s Tooth, the most brutal section of the cavern. It’s a one-way passage; only one person can fit at a time. I couldn’t guarantee I could bring him out in one piece. I couldn’t even guarantee I’d come out myself. Mr. Vance was silent for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he sighed, his voice cracking. “Just… get him out. Whatever it takes.” My team and I scrambled, assembling our gear as night began to bleed across the sky. The fading light meant visibility underwater would be near zero. This wasn’t a rescue anymore; it was a ghost hunt in the dark. But a life was on the line. Judging by the size of the oxygen tank Adam had on his back, he wouldn’t make it through the night. Relying on muscle memory and the scars the cavern had left on my mind, I bypassed the more complex routes. After more than two hours of navigating the crushing blackness, I finally reached him. 2 The gauge on his oxygen tank was hovering on empty. I worked fast, swapping his tank for a fresh one, then keyed my comms to relay the news to the surface. “He’s alive.” A roar of cheers echoed from the topside crew. Mr. Vance was probably weeping. I pulled out the specialized rock grinder I’d brought. Inch by inch, I began to chip away at the stone pinning Adam’s arm. The pressure had cut off his circulation for hours; the limb was numb, useless. If I didn’t free him soon, he’d lose it for good. I pushed harder, the grinder screaming against the rock, my own oxygen consumption skyrocketing with the effort. After a grueling thirty minutes, a final chunk of rock broke away. He was free. I motioned for us to head back, but as soon as he was clear, he did the unthinkable. He turned and started swimming deeper into the cavern. I grabbed him, shaking my head, pointing emphatically toward the way out. He shoved my hand away, his eyes wild with a stubborn fire. I didn’t need to hear him to understand. I’m already halfway there. I can’t turn back now. He was insane. Visibility was shot, and the path ahead was a deathtrap of tangled passages I hadn’t even fully mapped. The oxygen I’d brought wouldn’t last a round trip to the end and back, not for two of us. Not with him barely able to use one arm. Reason wasn’t working. I grabbed him again, trying to physically drag him back toward the surface. He exploded. He fought me like a cornered animal, his flailing limbs knocking the high-powered flashlight from my grip, plunging us into near-total darkness. Then his hands were at my face, clawing, trying to rip my oxygen mask off. In this claustrophobic hell, a full-blown fight would get us both killed, wedged in the rock for good. If that happened, the next rescue team would have to come from halfway across the world. I wouldn’t last that long. I signaled to my partner, Alex, who was hovering a few feet back. A quick series of hand gestures. Help me. Then, I feigned surrender, letting my body go limp. The moment Adam relaxed his guard, I struck. A swift, precise blow to the back of his head. He went limp in my arms. I knew the risks. A concussion in the crushing pressure underwater could easily lead to severe brain damage. But it was his brain or his life. I made my choice. I secured him to my leg with a length of rope and began the grueling ascent, towing his dead weight. The two-hour journey down felt like a lifetime on the way back up. My muscles burned, my lungs screamed. My backup oxygen tank was running dangerously low. With the last of my strength, I shoved his body upward, toward the shimmering surface. When I finally broke through, collapsing onto the shore, my entire world was a spinning vortex of pain and nausea. Every muscle ached, and my head felt like it was about to split open. I spent days recovering in the hospital. Adam was lucky; the doctors saved his arm. He woke up a few days later, seemingly fine. Mr. Vance, flanked by a sea of reporters, paid me the five million as promised, his words dripping with gratitude and praise. I thought it was over. Then, three days later, Adam woke up. And the first thing he did was tell the world I had tried to murder him. 3 The Vance family was powerful. Their name was practically a brand. Adam’s accusation hit the internet like a tidal wave. Reporters swarmed my hospital room, a forest of microphones and cameras eager to capture the scandal. Adam, looking pale and fragile for the cameras, spun his web of lies. “Everyone knows Leo. He’s a national hero, the first diver from our country to break the world record,” he began, his voice weak but clear. “And Wraithfall Caverns… that’s where he did it. That’s his legacy.” He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “So when he found me down there, the first thing he did was yell at me. He said I had no right to challenge his record. He has a big international competition coming up, you see. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone stealing his spotlight.” “I was only a third of the way from finishing the entire course,” he lied, his voice gaining strength. “My oxygen was fine, my energy was high. I would have made it if he hadn’t kept trying to stop me. He wanted me to give up, so he deliberately jammed me into that corner, crushing my arm against the rocks. He almost cost me my arm.” “When I still refused to back down,” he said, his eyes locking with the camera, “he tried to kill me. That blow to my head… it came from behind. He ambushed me!” “Any experienced diver knows that getting knocked out underwater is a death sentence. The lack of oxygen can cause permanent brain damage. He knew exactly what he was doing,” Adam spat, his voice rising with theatrical fury. “He wanted to make sure I could never dive again. He wanted his record to stand forever!” “I’m telling you all this today because the world needs to see the real Leo. The monster behind the hero’s mask. And I will make sure he ends up behind bars.” As he spoke, a smug, triumphant smirk played on his lips. Even pale and recovering, his face was a mask of absolute certainty. He knew he had me. 4 I was still in my own hospital bed when the media circus found me. They descended in a frenzy, shoving microphones in my face. “Mr. Leo, do you have a response to Adam Vance’s allegations? Did you endanger a man’s life to protect your record?” I shook my head, trying to cut through the noise with the simple truth. “If you can find another diver willing to go down there, they’ll find a section of rock near that bend with fresh tool marks on it. From my grinder.” I explained the situation. “Mr. Vance was uncooperative. If I had let him continue, he would be dead. Knocking him out was a last resort. I reported all of this to his father.” Just as I finished, Mr. Vance himself stormed into the room, his face purple with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Are you insane? You dare lay a hand on my son?” he bellowed. “So that’s why you asked me if you’d be liable for an ‘accident’ before you went down. You were planning to kill him all along!” His chest heaved, and the bodyguards flanking him glared at me as if I were a bug to be crushed. My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Alex, my partner, my friend, the man who had been right there with me. He avoided my gaze, his face a picture of guilt. “Leo,” he mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Adam was lucky to get out of there alive. If something had gone wrong… it would’ve been catastrophic. What you did… it was too much. If I hadn’t been there to stop you, you might have actually killed him.” In that single, gut-wrenching moment, I understood. It was a setup. Adam had orchestrated the whole thing, and he’d dragged the one person I trusted into his scheme. I had saved his life, and in return, he was methodically destroying mine. What could I say? There were only three of us in that underwater tomb. Two of them were pointing the finger at me. With the Vance family’s power to bend the truth and manipulate the media, I didn’t stand a chance. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “My conscience is clear,” I said, my voice hollow. “I will cooperate with any investigation.” Mr. Vance’s eyes bulged. “Clear conscience? I paid you a fortune, and you tried to murder my son! How does someone like you even deserve to be called a diver?” he roared. “Your own teammate follows you into hell, and you’d probably slit his throat to steal the credit! I’ll see to it that your license is permanently revoked. You will never compete again. You will never touch the water again!” The police arrived shortly after. I was led away in handcuffs. The interview clips went viral, and the court of public opinion delivered its verdict. I was a monster. “I remember him,” one comment read. “Didn’t he take a student on a dive once, and the kid ended up in a vegetative state?” “They said he saved the kid’s life,” another replied. “But maybe he saw a rival with more talent and decided to ‘retire’ him early.” “This is terrifying. My daughter took a beginner’s class with him last year. Thank God nothing happened.” The incident they were talking about was real. But the student had ignored safety protocols and gone on a solo dive with a faulty oxygen tank. I found him just in time; without me, he wouldn’t have just been in a coma, he’d be dead. But context didn’t matter anymore. I saw the ugly truth with perfect clarity. When the public loves you, you’re a hero. When they turn on you, you’re less than nothing. My coaching team came to visit me at the station. Seeing my head coach felt like finding an anchor in a hurricane. I told him everything, detail for detail. He sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. “You know how it is, Leo. Tall poppy syndrome. The competitors you were up against in the internationals… they’re the best in the world. Taking you out of the picture raises their odds of winning.” He leaned in, his voice low. “And let’s be blunt. That Vance kid is a notorious brat. He tried to hire one of our coaches as a private instructor a while back. He was so impossible to deal with, he went through three of them before we told his father we couldn’t work with him. This dive… it was all about ego. He couldn’t handle the embarrassment of getting stuck, so he needed a scapegoat. You were it.” The police had already grilled me once. Without hard evidence from the cavern, their hands were tied, and their stance was neutral. Hearing my coach’s words, a cold sweat broke out on my skin. 5 I had clung to the hope that the police investigation would clear my name. But if Adam Vance was pulling strings behind the scenes, my life was over. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Vance,” my coach said, trying to sound reassuring. “Try to smooth things over, apologize on your behalf. Let them cool down. At the end of the day, his son is alive and well. If you show some remorse, maybe they’ll go easy on you.” At this point, I had no better options. Survival was more important than the truth. I hired a lawyer and formally requested a meeting to apologize to the Vance family. Mr. Vance refused to see me. Adam, more arrogant than ever, publicly declared that he would make sure I paid for what I’d done. A video of me, stone-faced, apologizing for “my actions” in knocking him unconscious, was leaked to the press. That’s when the internet truly exploded. My apology was seen as a confession. The small contingent of supporters who believed there was more to the story were drowned out by a tidal wave of manufactured outrage. The Vances had clearly hired an army of bots and trolls to control the narrative. Anonymous accounts flooded comment sections, complaining about how expensive my classes were, how hard they were to book. They painted me as an arrogant snob who did nothing but brag about his own achievements. Any comments defending me were buried. Countless people who knew nothing about the situation called me a disgrace, gloating that I had finally picked a fight with someone I couldn’t beat. Other divers, eager to promote their own careers, joined the pile-on, accusing me of cheating in past competitions. The lies grew more outrageous. I was a phantom menace who had a legion of ghosts haunting my career. My attempts to clarify were ignored. People only believed what they wanted to believe. When my colleagues spoke up for me, they were dismissed as co-conspirators. Every major news outlet and gossip blog jumped on the bandwagon, fanning the flames. With no concrete evidence to prove my innocence, I was utterly defenseless. Adam kept the pressure on the police, demanding my arrest. He poured money into a media campaign designed to utterly annihilate my reputation. The scandal burned like a wildfire, scorching everyone close to me—my coach, my colleagues, my family. Seeing my parents, who had always been so proud of me, endure daily harassment was more than I could bear. Finally, I broke. I returned the five million dollars and issued a public statement announcing my permanent retirement from professional diving. 6 My surrender only confirmed my guilt in the public’s eye. The police, unable to find any concrete evidence of attempted murder, eventually had to release me. But the damage was done. My professional diving license was officially and permanently revoked. The day I walked out of the detention center, the Vances were waiting for me, a pack of reporters in tow. Adam, fully recovered, smirked at me, his contempt practically dripping from him. “You should’ve learned your lesson,” he sneered. “Don’t mess with people you can’t afford to offend. A pathetic diver like you… who gave you the right to touch me?” He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile sickeningly cheerful. “It’s a shame you can’t dive anymore. But don’t worry, I’ll be the one to break your record. I’ll be bigger than you ever were. I’ll bring glory to this country. Consider it a favor. You owe me that much.” I wanted to smash my fist into his smug, entitled face. Just weeks ago, he was a terrified child in the dark, begging me to save him. Now, he stood before the cameras, the architect of my ruin. But I was surrounded. I couldn’t say a word. Mr. Vance, his eyes sharp and calculating, looked me up and down like a bug under a microscope. “You’re lucky my son made a full recovery,” he said, his tone that of a condescending elder. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be walking out of here so easily. Try to be a better person from now on. A moment of glory means nothing. A man needs to be grounded to go far in life.” Rage boiled in my gut. This was the same man who had wept on the phone, begging me to save his son. The same man who had called me “Master Leo” and offered me a fortune to be Adam’s personal coach. But the truth didn’t matter to him. Only his son’s ego did. The reporters shoved their microphones forward again. I said nothing. I just pushed my way through the crowd and walked away. Let this ugly chapter be over, I thought. But Adam wasn’t done with me. Online, he began dissecting my diving technique from old videos, pointing out supposed flaws. “It’s hard to imagine how someone this sloppy could have ever broken a world record,” he posted. Suddenly, self-proclaimed “former students” crawled out of the woodwork, claiming I had taught them incorrect, dangerous techniques. Former partners accused me of stealing their credit. Someone even started a rumor that I always made my teammates scout dangerous passages ahead of me, completely indifferent to their safety. The mob demanded that all my records and accolades be officially stripped, to prevent me from ever “harming” anyone in the diving world again. I found Alex. He was Adam Vance’s new private coach. He just shrugged, telling me to let it go. “You know my family’s situation, Leo,” he said, not even meeting my eye. “I needed the money.” So that was it. Even those who knew the truth wouldn’t speak it. Faced with the overwhelming tide of public opinion, my only option was to disappear. I took my savings and moved to a small, quiet city on the coast. I started a new, anonymous social media account, posting videos where I explained diving theory and techniques without ever showing my face. Slowly, I built a following. The ad revenue was enough to live on. It was a quiet, unassuming life. Until, one year later, my phone rang. It was Mr. Vance. Adam Vance was trapped in that cave. Again.

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My boss’s company went bankrupt. He took me out for one last meal. He clapped me on the shoulder, his voice thick with booze and irony. “Zoe, my girl,” he slurred, “if I end up starving on the street, I’m counting on you to feed me…” The joke hit me like a bucket of ice water. A shiver ran down my spine. He knows, I thought, my blood running cold. He knows I’m the richest man in Port City’s daughter. 1 His girlfriend had cleaned out the company accounts and run off with another man, leaving him with a mountain of debt. He had to sell everything just to break even. He even pawned his watch to make sure I got my final paycheck. “So… what are you going to do now, boss?” I asked, trying to sound casual. A cloud of despair settled over his face. “What else can I do? Crawl back to my hometown with my tail between my legs.” That couldn’t happen. Absolutely not. If he left, where would I ever find another boss who’d let me slack off and play video games at my desk without docking my pay? I had to make him stay. He was already several drinks in, shouting “To hell with love!” at the ceiling. He was definitely wasted. Suddenly, he turned, his eyes locking onto mine with a startling intensity. I flinched. “What? What is it?” He sighed, a long, mournful sound. “If only your dad was a billionaire.” Was this a hint? Was he testing me? “If my dad were a billionaire,” I said, forcing a laugh, “I’d definitely invest in your company. Ha ha.” He slammed his fist on the marble tabletop, his voice filled with righteous fury. “Invest? Screw investing! If you were a billionaire’s daughter, you’d make those two backstabbing traitors pay for what they did!” He grumbled, “Stealing my money… damn it, it makes me so mad.” Make them pay. Got it. Since he clearly knew who I was, I nodded eagerly. “Okay.” This was easy. “What kind of price did you have in mind?” He was on a roll now, ranting about his ex-girlfriend between swigs of whiskey. He said he wanted to see them exiled to some desolate mine in the middle of nowhere. Hmmm. Okay. Done. “And they took my house,” he wailed. “If your dad was a billionaire, he’d at least have to set me up with a mansion, right?” Consider it done. “And the investment…” he continued, slurring his words. “It would have to be… hic… at least fifty million!” A little on the low side, but if that’s all he wanted, fine. “And for you…” He hiccupped, trying to focus on me. “What… what do you want?” I blinked. “There’s something in it for me?” “Of course!” He waved his hand magnanimously. “From now on, you work three days a week, and you get a four-day weekend!” My eyes lit up. A four-day weekend? Okay, Operation: Save My Boss was officially a top priority. Every second I wasted, the chances of him actually leaving town increased. After downing two more cases of beer, he was practically unconscious. I grabbed his arm. “Where do you live? I’ll get you home.” “Home…?” he sobbed. “I don’t have a home anymore.” Right. I sighed. First rule of the new company: no more drinking. I hoisted him up, grunting with the effort. It looked like he was coming home with me. The things I do for a good slacking-off job. Some people want to revolutionize the workplace. I just want to save it. 2 That night, my boss christened my custom-designed Italian leather sofa with a torrent of vomit. I stared at the mess, my heart aching. The last time I’d had to replace this sofa was when I accidentally dropped a watermelon on it. After getting him settled on the now-defiled couch, I dialed my dad’s number. “Sweetheart?” He picked up on the first ring. I glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night. “Dad, you’re up late again,” I scolded. “I’ve told you a million times, work can wait until morning.” I’d called this late on purpose, just to check on him. Sure enough, he was pulling another all-nighter. He chuckled on the other end. “Alright, alright, you got me. But what has my little princess calling at this hour?” I explained the situation with my boss. When I finished, my dad just sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Tell him to check the news tomorrow morning.” After we hung up, I could hear my boss snoring from the living room. Well, time for bed. I went to my room and was asleep within minutes. I dreamt I found a magic lamp. A genie appeared. “You have freed me,” it boomed. “You may have three wishes.” I blinked, thought for a second, and nodded. “Okay. You can make them.” The genie stared at me. “…What?” Then I woke up. I was still pondering why the genie wouldn’t make a wish when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find my boss standing there, his face grim. “Something huge just happened.” I followed him into the living room, completely bewildered. He turned on the TV to the morning news. 【In a bizarre turn of events, the two fugitives who embezzled millions from a local tech firm have reportedly been sold into forced labor at a mine in a remote, war-torn country. They are now desperately appealing to the U.S. government for aid…】 Wow, my dad works fast. My boss stared at the screen, then pulled out his phone. His eyes widened. All the stolen money had been returned to his account. “Holy crap, Zoe,” he said, turning to me. He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, startling me so much I froze. “You’re my good luck charm!” he exclaimed. “I made a wish with you last night, and it came true this morning! You’re better than a magic lamp.” Hmm, maybe not a good luck charm, I thought. Maybe just really, really rich. I’d never seen him this happy before. I felt a little embarrassed. “Bankrupt? Bankrupt my ass! I’m making a comeback!” he declared, full of renewed vigor. “And from now on, you, my little good luck charm, are the official company mascot!” I beamed. “Do mascots get to slack off?” “Slack off? Hell, you can do more than that!” He grinned, patting his toned abs. “You can touch these anytime you want.” Oh. No, that’s quite alright. 3 My Boss’s Wish List: 1. Make the backstabbing traitors pay. 2. A mansion. 3. A fifty-million-dollar investment. He had his thirty million back, but this was New York City. Thirty million, especially company funds, wasn’t going to buy him a mansion. Luckily, my family’s real estate company had just finished a new luxury development. I’d just set aside the best villa for him. I called my dad and told him to have someone deliver the deed. He was baffled. “Honey, are you out of your mind? Why are you going to all this trouble for the owner of some tiny startup?” “You don’t get it,” I said righteously. “The feeling of getting paid to do nothing… it’s pure bliss!” “But why can’t you just relax at home?” my dad asked, ever the boomer. “Why do you even need a job?” “Hah,” I scoffed. “Do you know how boring it is to sit at home all day? But at work, it’s different. It’s the thrill of sneaking in moments of leisure. Even just playing a little online farming game feels like a victory.” “Then why not slack off at our company?” “No way. Then I’d be wasting my own family’s money.” “…” A few minutes after we hung up, my dad texted to say the lawyer was on his way with the transfer contract. Excellent. I leaned back on my newly delivered leather sofa and took a satisfying bite of watermelon. While the cat’s away, the mice will play. While the employees slack, the boss’s BMW becomes a bike. I was living the dream. My blissful reverie was interrupted by a video message from the lawyer. I opened it. The lawyer, dressed in a sharp suit, stood in front of my boss’s temporary apartment, holding a briefcase. He knocked. A moment later, my boss opened the door, looking groggy. “Who is it?” “Good morning,” the lawyer said, adjusting his glasses. “Are you the owner of Phoenix Corp?” “Nope, wrong address,” my boss mumbled. “Name’s Ethan Cole.” “Ah, yes, Mr. Cole,” the lawyer said, unfazed. “I have here the deed to Villa Number One at the Summit Estates, a gift from our Miss… from your benefactor. If you would please just sign here.” My boss took a step back. “You have the wrong guy. I’m the owner of Phoenix Corp.” And with that, he slammed the door in the lawyer’s face. A moment later, I could hear his muffled laughter through the door. “Hah! Nice try, scammers! I’ve got the National Anti-Fraud app on my phone!” The video ended. Below it was a pathetic message from the lawyer: 【Miss, I really tried. He almost called the cops on me.】 I… I didn’t know what to say. I guess on the bright side, my boss’s scam awareness had significantly improved. That’s progress, right? As I was pondering this, my phone rang. It was him. “Hahaha! Zoe, you won’t believe this! Some guy just came to my door trying to scam me, said he was giving me a mansion!” he crowed. “As if I’d fall for that! Who does he think I am?” “Right?” I said, trying to sound supportive. “Yeah… ” I hesitated. “…but what if it really was a mansion from me?” “No way,” he scoffed. “Are you secretly a billionaire’s daughter or something? You make three grand a month and you’ve never quit. You need the money more than anyone I know.” And just like that, you lost your mansion. “Anyway, get ready,” he said, the sound of keys jingling in the background. “I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. I finally got my baby back from the impound lot. We’re going to that seafood buffet you’ve been dying to try.” Dying to try? It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. Oh, he meant the restaurant my family owns. The one that costs eighteen hundred dollars a person. I’d booked our last team-building event there, thinking I was keeping the money in the family, and got an earful for it. I guess with over three hundred employees, it was a little over budget. He’d been convinced ever since that I was obsessed with the place. Well, a free meal is a free meal. And it gave me an idea of how to finally give him the mansion. I got ready, and ten minutes later, a car horn honked twice. I looked out the window. There he was, leaning against a McLaren, dressed in a flashy red jacket and sunglasses, looking like a total rockstar. That McLaren used to be mine. He’d always admired it, so I invented a reason to sell it to him for cheap. What can I say? He lets me slack off. He deserves it. 4 “Good evening, welcome.” A hostess greeted us as soon as we stepped out of the car. Her eyes widened in recognition when she saw me. “Miss…” “Ahem!” I coughed loudly. The hostess quickly corrected herself. “…Miss…ed you guys! So glad you could make it on this busy weekend.” My boss looked confused. “Missed who?” “Uh… the… weekend,” she stammered. “It’s… a big weekend. For us.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. I led the way to our table—Table 99, just as I’d arranged. I sat down and looked at him, my eyes shining. Sit down, sit down! Your mansion awaits! He looked at the table, then back at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ahem. Zoe.” “What is it?” “You know I just went through a breakup,” he said, his expression complicated. “I’m not really ready to jump into a new relationship right now…” “…?” I stared at him. “And?” I followed his gaze to the table setting… and oh, for the love of God. Who arranged this? I’m firing them. It was a table for two, complete with a single red rose and heart-shaped place cards. A “Lover’s Nook.” No wonder he looked so conflicted. “I didn’t notice,” I said quickly. “It’s just… a nice view. And 99 is my lucky number.” He looked relieved. “Oh. Good.” For some reason, I felt a little annoyed. A few minutes later, the hostess from the entrance came over to our table, her face a mask of exaggerated shock. “Oh my gosh! You’re at Table 99!” My boss looked at her. “Yeah? So what?” “Well, 99 is our lucky number!” she gushed. “You’ve just won our grand prize! A mansion in the Summit Estates!” I could feel a vein throbbing in my forehead. This was the worst acting I had ever seen. She might as well have had “THIS IS FAKE” tattooed on her forehead. Could she be any more over the top? And she couldn’t even come up with a different line than the one I’d just used? My boss’s eyes widened. “Really?” The hostess nodded vigorously, placing the contract on the table and handing him a pen. “Sign here!” Even an idiot wouldn’t fall for this. My boss grabbed the pen and scribbled his name, as if he was afraid she’d change her mind. Then he handed it to me. I… I sighed. I had clearly overestimated his intelligence. I signed my name without hesitation. If I didn’t, the whole charade would fall apart. The hostess, her mission accomplished, beamed and walked away, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she left. Great. Whoever hired her needs an eye exam. I’ll pay for it. I sighed again and turned back to my boss, only to find him staring at me with a strange, intense expression. Oh, no. I’d gotten carried away. Had he finally figured it out? A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. After a long moment, his eyes welled up with tears. “Zoe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “you really are my good luck charm!” “First the money comes back, now we win a mansion! At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if someone offered me a fifty-million-dollar investment tomorrow.” “Don’t worry,” he added, “this mansion is half yours. You’re moving in with me.” He paused, his expression turning serious again. “But you have to keep your distance. I’m really not looking for a relationship right now…” Oh, for crying out loud. How did this man ever manage to run a company?

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My crush of so many years was forced to marry me. Each time we made love, he’d fall silent and retreat to his study, refusing to come back to the bedroom. I didn’t want us to become one of those bitter, estranged couples, trapped in a loveless marriage. So tonight, after he left the bed, I picked up the divorce papers and went to find him. But as I reached for the doorknob, text began to materialize in the air before my eyes. 【LMAO, the ML still thinks he’s just a substitute who got lucky. He’s terrified our girl is going to dump him any second. The poor guy’s a nervous wreck! Hahaha…】 【Don’t you dare divorce him, sweetie! He’s hopelessly in love! He literally can’t live without you!】 【Who would’ve thought this six-foot-three giant is hiding in his study crying his eyes out just because he didn’t get any aftercare? LMAO!】 【If she opens that door right now, she’ll find him clutching a plushie that smells like her, trying to wipe away his tears.】 That last comment made me pause. Skeptical, but intrigued, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. 1 The study was plunged into darkness. I didn’t hesitate; I flicked on the light. The sight of Ethan made me freeze. The tip of his nose was red, his eyes were glistening, and a single tear clung to his thick lashes. Was this the same composed, rational Ethan I knew? All this time, I thought he was holing up in his study because he was disgusted by being intimate with me. He clearly hadn’t expected me to barge in. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “Why are you still up?” His tone was sharp, laced with an impatience that suggested my presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it weren’t for the tear track still glistening on his cheek, I might have actually believed he was angry. 【Don’t get it wrong, sweetie! He’s just worried that staying up late is bad for you.】 【Oh no, here he goes again, overthinking himself into a hole. He probably thinks his performance was so bad it didn’t even tire her out enough to sleep. (¬‿¬)】 The comments started flooding in, getting racier by the second. The explicit words made my face burn. I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What are you holding?” From the moment I’d walked in, he’d kept his hands behind his back, hiding something. I needed to see if the comments were telling the truth. “It’s… it’s nothing.” His eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t look me in the eye. I have a bit of a weakness for stuffed animals; my bed is practically overflowing with them. If he’d taken one, I honestly wouldn’t have noticed. He didn’t move, so I took a step forward to see for myself. To my shock, he flinched back, scrambling away from me as if I were a thief. There was no way I could see what he was hiding now. I held out my hand, my gaze locking with his. My voice was calm but firm. “Show me.” Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes, and hesitantly placed the object in my hand. It was one of my plushies. The comments were right. 2 My eyes went wide. For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. Before I could even process it, a new wave of comments caught my attention. 【This man-child is always crying. Sweetie just has to raise her voice a tiny bit and the waterworks start. So useless!】 【Hey, don’t be so hard on him. How tough can a guy who needs aftercare really be? Hahaha…】 I instinctively glanced back at Ethan. His head was bowed so low his chin was practically touching his chest. In the suffocating silence of the room, a tiny, choked sob was painfully audible. He was trying so hard to stifle his anguish, but his shoulders still trembled uncontrollably. Wait, I was just talking to him normally. I hadn’t even gotten mad about him taking my plushie. But his reaction, the way he was trying to cry without making a sound, made it seem like I’d just broken his heart. The comments said he thought I was yelling at him. Suddenly, I felt like the villain. Flustered, I softened my voice. “Please don’t cry. I wasn’t yelling at you.” At my words, his body went rigid. He spun around and fled into the adjoining bathroom, his voice a choked whisper as he went. “I’m not crying! You’re seeing things!” I stared at the closed door, the information from the comments swirling in my mind. So, Ethan had it all wrong. My ex-boyfriend was the substitute. Ethan was the one I’d wanted all along. 3 Back in college, I had a very brief, very ill-advised relationship. It was only because the guy looked a little like Ethan. It was a stupid, impulsive decision, and I realized quickly that using someone as a stand-in was a horrible thing to do. I broke it off. He moved abroad shortly after, and I pushed the whole ugly affair out of my mind. If it weren’t for the comments, I would have completely forgotten that ex-boyfriend even existed. Click. The bathroom door finally opened. Ethan had been in there for almost ten minutes. Now, aside from slightly reddened eyes and dampness in his bangs, he looked composed again. “Did you need something?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. His question snapped me back to the reason I’d come to the study in the first place. 【Hahaha, if she says yes, he’s going to start crying all over again.】 【If he cried that hard just from her raising her voice, he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown when he finds out she’s about to ask for a divorce.】 A jolt of guilt went through me. I discreetly tucked the divorce papers behind my back. I had assumed Ethan was miserable because our families had railroaded him into this marriage. But the comments painted a different picture: ever since our wedding, he’d been living in a constant state of fear, terrified that I would abandon him. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. It wasn’t unhappiness making him look so worn down; it was a nervous breakdown. And I’d misunderstood it all as resentment towards me. The guilt intensified. “I can’t sleep when you’re not there,” I said softly. A flicker of pure joy lit up his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. But just as quickly, some dark thought extinguished the light, and his expression fell. I cut through his spiraling thoughts, emphasizing each word. “Ethan. I can only sleep when you’re beside me.” 4 Perhaps it was the release of a good cry, or perhaps my words finally gave him a sense of security. Whatever the reason, Ethan slept more soundly that night than I’d ever seen him. He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t even stir when I gently traced the lines of his face, lost in thought. The comments said this was the first peaceful night’s sleep he’d had since we got married. Looking at his sleeping form, my heart felt heavy with a mix of emotions. I’d been in love with Ethan since my freshman year of high school. He was a campus legend—handsome, brilliant, a model student who was always kind to stray animals. Plenty of girls had crushes on him. I wasn’t a shy person by nature; in fact, I thrived on the debate team, always ready for an argument. But around him, I became a different person—cautious, tongue-tied, my courage always failing me. I even chose a university up north just to be near him. But even on the same campus, I never dared to make a move, terrified that one wrong word would mean losing the chance to even speak to him at all. Then, a few months ago, a twist of fate. Our mothers met, hit it off instantly, and decided they were destined to be family. They couldn’t be sisters, but they could be in-laws. And so, they set us up. I was shocked that someone like Ethan was still single, being pressured by his family to go on blind dates. When we met for dinner, he didn’t even seem to remember my name. He kept his head down the whole time, barely saying a word. But I knew this might be my only chance. Summoning all my courage, I carried the conversation, desperately searching for topics. Finally, I feigned a casual tone and said, “You know, we seem pretty compatible in a lot of ways. Maybe we should… give it a try?” The moment the words left my mouth, his brow furrowed, his expression turning grave. He looked utterly opposed to the idea. My heart sank. I braced myself for rejection. But then, Ethan looked up, and in a soft voice, he said, “Okay.” After the wedding, though, he was a different person. He was withdrawn and sullen during the day, and at night, he would disappear into his study after we were intimate. It screamed dissatisfaction. You can’t blame me for misinterpreting it. I had to fix this. We needed to have a real conversation, and soon. 5 When I woke up the next morning, Ethan had already made breakfast, finished his own plate, and was at the door putting on his shoes to leave for work. His schedule started earlier than mine. Normally, I would just walk out of the bedroom and sit down at the table, and we would eat in silence. But today, I broke the routine. I walked straight to the entryway. Ethan’s hand froze on the doorknob. He looked up, flustered and confused. “Is the breakfast not to your liking? I can run down and buy something else.” I quickly reached out and took his arm. “No, that’s not it.” 【Is she going to ask for a divorce now?? Please no!】 【Sweetie, you’re making a huge mistake! A guy who’s a king in the boardroom and a chef in the kitchen is a rare find!】 I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little shy. “It’s just… usually, before a husband leaves for work, he gives his wife a goodbye kiss.” Hearing this, Ethan became even more flustered than I was. His gaze darted away as he stammered, “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. S-so, I’m just gonna…?” “Mhm.” The word was barely out of my mouth before I felt a slight whoosh of air, followed by a feather-light touch on my forehead. It was over in a second. “I’m heading to work,” he said, his words rushed as he turned back to the door. “Wait.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. My earlier shyness had vanished, replaced by a playful urge to tease him. I looked him straight in the eye, watching his reaction. “Not so fast. The wife hasn’t given the husband his goodbye kiss yet.” And with that, I stood on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ethan’s entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears flushed a deep crimson. As he finally stumbled out the door, he was so flustered he was practically tripping over his own feet. 【Starting the day with sugar! I’m gonna get a cavity!】 【Our girl knows exactly what she’s doing! YES!】 【LMAO, he’s leaning against the door outside, catching his breath! That’s kinda hot!】 6 Love really does turn you into an idiot. I spent the entire day in a daze, and at least three different colleagues asked me what I was smiling about. I kept seeing the word “aftercare” pop up in the comments. That was the reason he was hiding in his study, crying. I couldn’t let that happen again. A quick search online confirmed it. People who need aftercare often struggle with insecurity. The intimacy can trigger anxiety, making them fear they didn’t perform well enough and leaving them desperate for reassurance. I blushed as I summarized my findings into one simple strategy: praise him. We were intimate almost every night, except when I had my period. So I spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous anticipation, mentally rehearsing a script of compliments. 【And… we’re blacked out again!】 【Why does it always go dark at the good parts?! (sobbing)】 The comments were a chorus of complaints. Thank god they couldn’t see me right now, or I’d die of embarrassment. When we were finished, Ethan buried his face in the crook of my neck, lingering there for a long moment. Tentatively, I ran my fingers through his hair, then gently rubbed his earlobe. “You were… really good tonight.” It was my first time comforting someone like this, and I had no idea what I was doing. My voice was uncertain. But I felt his body tense, his breath catching in his chest. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. “I love it when you hold me,” I murmured. “It makes me feel so safe. Can you hold me tighter?” He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me. “I want to see you now, okay?” He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were shining, bright and adoring, like a puppy seeing its owner after a long time away. Practice makes perfect. My shyness completely evaporated. I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered with a smile, “I love you so much.” His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly buried his head against me again, too embarrassed to look at me. After a long moment, a muffled voice vibrated against my ear. “Me too.” 7 【What’s going on? Why was it blacked out all night? We didn’t even get the study scene!】 【I know why! It’s because he didn’t go to the study to cry! Our girl must have… (smirks)】 【No wonder he’s acting so weird today. He keeps sneaking glances at her and smiling to himself.】 【A well-cared-for man is a different breed. He’s practically a delicate flower.】 A delicate flower? Looking at him now, it kind of fit. His cheeks were flushed, and he was bustling around the house in a pink apron. It was the weekend, and for the past two days, I had transformed into a praise-spewing machine. “Everything you cook is amazing! A five-star restaurant should be trying to hire you!” “You mop the floor better than a robot! The robots are going to be out of a job at this rate!” “The clothes you wash by hand smell even better than when they come out of the machine…” I was starting to run out of material, but Ethan was just getting more and more energized. He polished a single water glass eight times, then casually placed it in my line of sight, waiting. Just waiting for my praise. I was finally starting to understand why all the teachers and parents adored him. On Monday morning, when I got up, Ethan was already dressed and ready for work, looking at me with an expectant expression. I pretended not to notice. I said my goodbyes and waited for him to leave. Over the weekend, I’d noticed something about Ethan: he was incredibly good at taking care of others, but terrible at expressing his own needs. He bottled everything up. He wanted praise, but he’d wait for me to offer it. If I didn’t, he’d just quietly walk away and be sad by himself. Sure enough, when the goodbye kiss he was hoping for didn’t come, his whole posture slumped. But he still wouldn’t ask for it. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” I asked, my voice gentle, trying to coax it out of him. He just shook his head, forcing a weak smile. “Goodbye.” I sighed softly. I had no doubt that the second that door closed, tears would start streaming down his face. The image of him trying to wipe his eyes on the way to work made my heart melt. I grabbed his arm just as he was stepping out the door. Just as I’d suspected. He wasn’t even gone yet, and his eyes were already glistening with unshed tears. I looked directly into his watery eyes and asked, “Do you want a kiss? If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you don’t.” As I made a show of letting go, he quickly grabbed my hand back, his head bobbing in a series of frantic nods. “Yes!” 8 With my deliberate encouragement, Ethan slowly started asking for things he wanted. Our relationship grew closer and closer. Until one afternoon, I was walking across campus with a thick stack of files when I stumbled, sending papers scattering across the pavement. A hand reached down to help me gather them, then took the rest of the stack from my arms. I was about to thank the person when I looked up and saw a familiar face. My whole body went stiff. Standing in front of me was my ex-boyfriend, Trent, who had been abroad for years. “Long time no see,” he said with a smirk. “I heard you got married.” He paused, his eyes raking over me. “I also heard… the guy looks a lot like me.” He had changed. The Trent in front of me was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, every trace of his student days gone. But that innate swagger, that hint of a troublemaker, was still there. He had a fresh buzz cut that was just starting to grow out, and he still wore the same silver stud in his left ear. The suit on that face just looked… wrong. So out of place, I thought, rolling my eyes internally. I’d met Trent at a debate tournament; we were good at arguing, even with each other. Our breakup had been messy. Yes, I had dumped him for no apparent reason after less than two weeks, but he had his faults too. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention that he’d skipped a grade and was a full two years younger than me. I nearly had an aneurysm when I found out. Aside from a five-out-of-ten resemblance in their brow and eyes, he and Ethan were polar opposites. Ethan was the model student every teacher loved; Trent was the headache they all dreaded. What was I even thinking back then? 【Whoa! Nobody told me the second male lead was this hot!】 【Our ML is a feast for the eyes, but the SML isn’t half bad either.】 【Team SML! Pick Trent! Pick Trent!】 The comments flipped their allegiance so fast it gave me whiplash. This morning they were begging me to kiss Ethan more, and now they’d completely jumped ship. I snatched my files back, glaring at Trent. “Who have you been listening to?” He chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at me with an I-knew-it expression. “I told you back then, I never go back on my word, especially not for a woman as fickle and self-centered as you—” “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Your Majesty. Stop.” I cut him off, not in the mood for his drama. I plastered on a fake smile, gave him a massive eye-roll, and turned to leave. For some reason, despite my attitude, he didn’t get angry. He fell into step beside me, continuing his monologue. “But I never imagined you’d be so obsessed with me that you’d marry my look-alike. Look, I’m a reasonable guy, more patient than you are. A substitute is just a substitute. Now that I’m back, you can— Hey, why’d you stop walking?” I’d been trying to let his words go in one ear and out the other, but he was getting more and more ridiculous. I was about to tell him not to flatter himself when a single comment froze me in place. 【The ML is here.】 9 I didn’t have time to argue with Trent. This was the absolute worst time for Ethan to see him. After getting my doctorate, I’d stayed on as a faculty member. I had already called Ethan and asked him to pick me up so we could go shopping for groceries. I knew the university was hosting an alumni symposium today, and Trent must have been an invited speaker. The campus is huge. I never thought my luck would be this bad. “You remember where the faculty offices in Building C are, right? Fourth floor,” I asked, trying to sound casual. Trent opened his mouth to say something, but I was out of patience. I shoved the entire stack of files into his arms. “If you don’t remember, ask someone. Take these there for me. I have to go. Goodbye forever.” I fired off the words and immediately started speed-walking towards the main gate. But as I rounded the first corner, I came face-to-face with Ethan. My heart hammered against my ribs. Panicked, I grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the exit. 【This is so intense.】 【Aw, that’s it? I was hoping for a showdown.】 The comments clearly didn’t care about my survival. I hadn’t found the right time to tell Ethan about my past, and if Trent found out he was the substitute, he would throw a fit of epic proportions. I didn’t have the energy for that. Thank god I’d moved fast. They had missed each other by seconds.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384723”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Dubbed the “Queen of Cutesy,” I’m blessed with a bombshell figure but cursed with a syrup-sweet voice that sparks hate with every word. After a year as the internet’s punching bag, I finally broke on a live show when accused of being shameless. Grabbing the A-list actor beside me, I sobbed, “I told you I wasn’t faking it!” The sharp-tongued actor froze, his neck flushing crimson as he awkwardly patted my head. The web fell silent, then erupted: 【Wait, she’s for real?】 【Why is he blushing?!】 【LMAO, the cynic’s spine melted from her voice!】 01 I’ve had this voice since I was a kid. I also hit puberty way too early. Because of it, my father acted like he wanted to strangle me in my sleep, and my mother said I was born to be nothing but trouble for men. Later, a talent scout spotted me, drawn in by my looks, and I was signed to an entertainment agency. When I debuted, my agent, Liz, was practically vibrating with confidence. “With this body? This face? We just need to strike a pose and we’ll be trending in seconds!” she’d declared, slapping her chest for emphasis. She cackled, convinced I was destined to be a superstar. But everyone, including her, had fatally underestimated the destructive power of my voice. A full year later, my reputation was in the gutter. It got to the point where I couldn’t even open my mouth without people rolling their eyes. 【Skylar Song is the fakest of the fake! If she’d just own the femme fatale look, I’d at least give her a second glance. Why is she so obsessed with this sweet-girl persona?】 【NGL, I thought it was cute at first, but it gets really annoying when it’s non-stop.】 【Can she just shut up? If she wants to seduce men so bad, she can go work at a club. Stop polluting the internet!】 The comments were relentless, one nastier than the next. But I was a coward. All I could do was bite down on my blanket at night, forcing the tears back down. Liz tried to console me. “Hey, bad press is still press! Listen to me, kid. That contrast you’ve got? The body and the voice? If you just lean into it, you’re gonna be rich. You hear me? Rich!” A sob escaped me. “You mean the kind of rich where I get revenge-rich?” Liz was a fiery New Yorker with a notoriously short fuse. After a year of managing me, she claimed she’d developed enough patience to get a kindergarten teaching license. My voice, as she put it, made women scream and men… well, it did things to men. The problem was, the contrast was so stark that nobody believed it was real. The damn internet trolls even had the audacity to say she had bad taste, forcing a perfectly good femme fatale into a cutesy mold. Who was going to stand up for her?! Liz seethed. “I pulled every string I had, called in every favor to get you a spot on this huge reality show. This time, I swear, I’m taking back what’s mine!” She was convinced that once people saw me up close, I’d win them all over, men and women alike. She let out a low, scheming chuckle, lost in her own fantasy world. 02 But before the show even started, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. #A-List Actor Liam Vance Slams Skylar Song’s Voice As Disgusting# #SkylarSongTheFaker# The topic was pinned to a video of Liam streaming his video game, a clip that had been reposted over a million times in half an hour. In the video, his teammate was dragging the whole team down. After feeding the enemy team several kills, the guy apologized in a strained, nasally voice. Liam just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, before tearing into him. “Whoa, what’d you do, swallow a handful of syrup? That’s some serious baby-voice you’re forcing.” “If you don’t know how to talk, then shut up. Don’t sit there whining. Your mouth is like a busted faucet, just spraying nonsense everywhere.” Liam Vance was a brilliant actor, the youngest to ever win the prestigious Phoenix Award, but his reputation was… complicated. His tongue was sharper than a razor blade, a master of backhanded compliments and outright insults that made his fans both love and hate him. Normally, this would have nothing to do with me. But then Tricia Stone, a popular starlet, dropped a comment under the video. 【His voice is so sweet! Just like Skylar from our cast.】 Her vague, innocent-sounding words twisted and turned as they spread, and suddenly, the internet’s full firepower was aimed directly at my social media accounts. 【I knew that fake-sweet voice sounded familiar. It’s the industry’s queen of cutesy, Skylar Song!】 【Who else could it be? She’s the only one that obnoxious. And she had the nerve to do it in front of Liam? Everyone knows he’s the most savage critic in the business.】 【Idk, it doesn’t really sound like her. Skylar’s voice is a little over the top, but it’s not that grating. Stop jumping on the bandwagon!】 【^^ Skylar’s PR team working overtime? If it’s not her, who is it? Tricia? No way. Tricia is famously as sweet as she sounds. You can’t even compare the two!】 The internet was a cesspool of hate. Trolls dug up every clip of me speaking, reposting them like exhibits in a criminal trial. I was just sitting at home, and suddenly I was public enemy number one. Liz was about to have an aneurysm. “That goddamn Tricia is the real faker! Don’t think I can’t tell just because she has an innocent little face!” she raged. “I bet that was her in the game, and she threw you under the bus because she was scared of getting caught!” Even though I’d been bullied for my voice my whole life, this was the first time I’d ever been dragged so publicly, trending for all the wrong reasons. I felt like I was dying. I just lay on my bed, a human-shaped lump of misery. Then, my phone buzzed. “Sky, get online! Your big bro is gonna carry you to victory, and we’re gonna metaphorically slap Liam Vance across the face!” 03 Ethan is one of the biggest names in the voice-acting world. We met back in college when we were both doing part-time voice-over work. He was furious on my behalf. “Damn it, Sky, your voice is amazing. Is Liam deaf or just an ass? What gives him the right to talk like that!” Tears of gratitude streamed down my face. I swore in that moment that I would be his loyal sidekick for life. Before I could even process it, Ethan had dragged me into a game and matched us with Liam. My fingers fumbled over the controls. I was, to put it mildly, terrible at the game. A flurry of frantic, useless movements resulted in a spectacular kill-death ratio of zero to five. Liam’s voice, tight with frustration, crackled through my headset. “Just uninstall the game. Go play Candy Crush or something. You’re so bad you’re single-handedly carrying the other team.” The live-stream chat exploded with laughter. 【Did Liam step in something nasty before he logged on tonight? His teammate luck is trash.】 【I bet it’s another girl. Is she about to start apologizing in a baby-voice too? LOL】 Ethan was losing his mind on the phone. “Say something back! What did I bring you here for? If you don’t fight back, you let them trash you for nothing tonight!” His words lit a fire under me. I fumbled to turn on my mic. But I’d only ever been on the receiving end of insults. After a few stutters, all I could manage was a weak, “So what?” Ethan almost coughed up a lung. “Okay, listen! Repeat after me, word for word!” I nodded like a bobblehead, stumbling through the lines he fed me. “Did I eat your rice? Why are you so obsessed with me?” “If you can’t stand me, feel free to die before I do!” “Was I talking to you? No? Then shut your mouth!” I was just getting into the rhythm of it when Ethan suddenly went silent. I froze. What was next? After a moment of stunned silence, it was Liam’s voice that came through, stammering. “I’m… sorry.” On the screen, the tips of his ears looked a little red. “Another round? Want to duo?” Aaaaaah! My toes curled in on themselves from secondhand embarrassment. My hand twitched, and I slammed the ‘exit game’ button. 04 I may have fled the scene, but I left a firestorm in my wake. 【OMG, so sweet! Who could resist a voice like that?!】 【Wait, she just insulted him and ran? Who taught her that move? Didn’t she see our boy Liam was totally stunned?!】 【I’m dying, what a complete 180! He was not acting like this thirty minutes ago. But to be fair, that girl’s voice is ridiculously cute.】 Even crazier, Liam posted an apology on his official account for his behavior. 【I was too harsh tonight. Don’t take it to heart…】 He had no idea it was me, so I dropped a casual reply. 【It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s only on the level of being randomly blamed for something I didn’t do.】 I’d already gotten my revenge, so what did it matter? Maybe because I was still a nobody, I had no idea what kind of influence an A-list actor really had. My one careless reply nearly got my entire family tree cursed by his fans. My notifications and DMs exploded. 【You? Skylar Song, you have the nerve to piggyback on his fame?】 【Do you have any idea how much everyone hates your voice? The audacity to say that wasn’t you.】 【It’s pretty easy to tell the difference between a naturally sweet voice and a fake one, okay?】 The hateful comments kept pouring in. But among them, I noticed a brand-new account, a level-zero user, fighting back on my behalf. 【Her voice is sweet! What’s it to you?】 【So what if it was her? I like it!】 【You call her a faker? What does that make you? A-grade loser?】 【Damn it, if my main account wasn’t banned, I’d roast you so hard your ancestors would feel it!】 This anonymous hero was attacking every negative comment with a vicious, take-no-prisoners style that was… strangely familiar. It almost sounded like… Liam? I shook the thought out of my head. My heart swelled with gratitude. Like a thief in the night, I snuck through the comment section, leaving a few ‘likes’ on his replies. A true bro, I thought. A friend in need. 05 The drama simmered online all night, cementing my reputation not only as the industry’s Queen of Cutesy, but also as a shameless clout-chaser. So, the next day at the studio, Tricia Stone looked at me with an extra dose of arrogance. She sashayed past me, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Skylar, you didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” I was confused. “I slept great.” Her expression soured instantly. She shot me a venomous glare and stormed off. For the rest of the morning, Tricia seemed determined to trip me up at every turn. Maybe because I was used to being my parents’ punching bag my whole life, I was completely unfazed. But my indifference only made her more furious. I stood “innocently” outside her dressing room, listening to the chaos erupting within. It was Tricia and her agent, Wes. “I told you to make your voice sweeter, cuter! Were you even listening to me? Look at the mess you made last night!” Wes yelled. Tricia sounded like she was at her breaking point. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get matched with that monster Liam in a random game! And besides, I fixed it, didn’t I? The internet totally believes it was Skylar Song. There’s no way they’ll figure out it was me!” “It only worked because Skylar’s reputation is already trash! Otherwise, who would believe that god-awful screeching was her?” Wes was practically tearing his hair out. “I told you to learn from Skylar! Look at her! Her voice is so sweet, so natural. Why can she do it and you can’t?! Half of your fame is built on this sweet-girl persona! Do you even understand what that means?!” He groaned, a truly pathetic sound of masculine despair. “Aaargh! Why can’t there be a person with Tricia Stone’s face and Skylar Song’s voice! Do you know how stressful it is for me, living in constant fear that you’ll be exposed?!” Tricia’s face turned black. The sweet act was gone. “Screw you, Wes! So what if I can’t beat Skylar? You’re such a clueless idiot!” BAM! The dressing room door flew open, and I was face-to-face with a fuming Tricia. A wicked impulse took over me. I let out a long, melodic whistle. I watched as her face flushed a deep crimson, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “You… you…! How much did you hear?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You. Are. Faking. It.” 06 It was like I’d flicked the switch on a boiling kettle. Tricia started hopping on the spot, almost screaming. “So what? So what? So what! Did I eat your rice?! Just you wait! Next month, I’ll show you! I’ll make the whole world see who the true Greek Goddess of the Baby Voice is!” I raised my hand meekly. “Actually, the internet is calling mine a ‘hiccup-voice’ now.” Tricia froze. “Where did you train? Ugh, no, I mean, how the hell did you change it up again?!” I deadpanned, making it up on the spot. “The Siren’s Song Academy. Mastered about forty percent of the technique. It’s all in the soft palate.” She glared, spitting out a final threat. “You just wait! I’m signing up!” … Hahahahahaha! Oh my god, I was holding in my laughter so hard I could barely breathe. I was wondering just how she planned to “show me,” when the answer arrived. The official cast list for the reality show Liz got me was announced. And Tricia was on it. It was, without a doubt, a legendary lineup. Male guests: The award-winning actor Liam Vance, renowned voice actor Ethan Cole, and pop king Julian Croft. Female guests: It-girl Tricia Stone, veteran actress Carla Vance. And then there was me, Skylar Song, the industry’s resident faker. I stuck out like a sore thumb. The internet, of course, noticed immediately. 【Is this a joke? How did Skylar Song sneak in here?】 【Slept her way in, probably.】 【How does she still have the nerve to show up? Liam already called her out for faking her voice. Does she have no shame?】 【Don’t worry, our boy Liam will handle it. He probably won’t be able to stand it the second she opens her mouth.】 They were right about one thing. But what the internet didn’t know yet was that Liam, indeed, couldn’t stand it. Just not in the way they thought. 07 On the way to meet the show’s production team, I ran into Ethan. “I thought you hated this kind of stuff,” I asked, curious. Ethan was a giant in the voice-acting world, but after three years in the industry, he rarely did interviews. Most people didn’t even know that behind the god-tier voice was a total goofball. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “Couldn’t let you face Liam alone, could I? How about it, impressed? Don’t worship me, kid. I’m just a legend.” He gave me a smarmy wink and, in his best “brooding CEO” voice, asked what I thought. Before I could answer, a scornful chuckle echoed from behind us. “Greasy.” Liam strode past us, moving so quickly he seemed to purposely bump Ethan’s shoulder. I shrank back, exchanging a look with Ethan. “Did I do something to him again? I didn’t even say anything.” “Nah, he’s probably just salty.” Ethan and I huddled together, whispering. From behind us, Liam’s assistant was shouting. “Liam, my man, would you look back for one second! You forgot your assistant!” He sprinted toward us, the ten pounds of extra weight on his belly jiggling violently. He was panting like an old steam engine. “Hah… huff… wheeze! Damn it, who knows what crawled up his butt today. Seriously, who is the one working this stupid job anyway!” 08 The show was being broadcast live, so Liz had given me a strict lecture about my behavior. “Listen to me, kid. Be sweet. Call everyone ‘bro’ and ‘sis,’ you got it? You’re not gonna let me down, right?!” I nodded with a grim certainty. “…Of course not, Liz. You can count on me to make things worse.” Pain. First, I had the entire internet convinced my voice was a crime against humanity. Then, I had Tricia threatening to expose me in front of millions. And caught in the middle was Liam, the A-list actor who had publicly called “me” a faker. This was a terrible start. I was so doomed I didn’t even have the energy to protest. Everyone expected me to fail, and I had no intention of proving them wrong. Everyone thought I was a joke, and honestly, I was. And to top it all off… The game hadn’t even begun, and I was already about to die. My eyes widened in horror as I pointed at myself. “Why me?!” A smiling crew member clipped a microphone and a tiny camera to my collar. She patted my head, surprised to find that I felt like a soft, fluffy piece of cake. A wave of maternal affection washed over her. “There, there, sweetie. You were the first one awake, so the director wants you to go wake up Liam.” The truth was, the director had smelled the sweet scent of viral drama from our recent trending topic. The viewers who had tuned in early were treated to this juicy scenario right off the bat. The live chat exploded. 【Grab your popcorn, people, this is gonna be good! Don’t go back to sleep!】 【LMAO, the producers are evil! Everyone knows Liam has a temper when he wakes up. Poor Skylar is about to get yelled at until she cries.】 【Hey, she has a name. Stop calling her that. Honestly, I think her voice is perfectly sweet.】 【You guys, seeing her up close… Skylar is even prettier. And that figure, I’m so jealous I could cry. If it weren’t for all the bad press, I think I’d be a fan!】 Even I, who tried to avoid social media, had seen the viral clips of Liam’s legendary morning crankiness. Oh god. Just kill me now.

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My husband has been acting strange lately. His hugs are stiff, his kisses clumsy, and our time in bed… let’s just say it’s been a disaster. I was starting to wonder if he wanted a divorce, but then I stumbled upon his browser history and found a recent post he’d made: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] Me: “?” 1 “You’re back.” My eyes lifted to the man standing in the entryway. He held his custom-tailored suit jacket in one hand, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even his hair, usually styled to perfection, was a mess, sticking up in every direction. He looked less like he’d just returned from a business trip and more like he’d just survived a bar fight. I shot up from the couch. “Did things go badly at work? What happened to you?” Liam Bernstein didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at me. His gaze was so intense, so fixed, it felt like he was trying to memorize every line on my face. I couldn’t help but walk over to him. I hooked a finger around his loosened tie and gently pulled him inside, my voice laced with a playful complaint. “What’s the matter? Forget what I look like after just a few days away?” He let me lead him a few steps before he finally stammered, “N-no. I remember.” I glanced back at him. His eyes were still locked on me, wide and unblinking. There was a raw hunger in them, but it was mixed with a wide-eyed innocence, the kind you’d see in a teenager. I shot him a playful glare, then wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. “You missed me that much, huh?” The man in my arms went rigid, his breathing shallowing to a near halt. His eyes darted around nervously, his lips pressed into a thin line, hands clenched into tight fists. He looked like a saint trying to resist temptation. I found this new version of Liam… fascinating. Usually, after a business trip, he was the one who turned into a wolf the second he walked through the door. I planted a soft kiss on the sharp line of his Adam’s apple, then whispered into his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Weren’t you the one on the phone promising to completely wreck me when you got home?” I held him tighter, feeling his body tense up even more, and softened my voice to a purr. “So, husband… how exactly are you going to wreck me?” The proximity was too much. I felt the immediate, unmistakable shift in his body. My hand was just beginning to drift downwards when he suddenly shoved me away. I stared at him, stunned. His entire face was a deep shade of crimson. When he spoke, his voice was so hoarse it sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I, uh… I haven’t showered yet…” And with that, he practically bolted into the nearest room—my office—and slammed the door shut. I was left standing there, utterly bewildered. 2 Rejected and confused, I curled up on the sofa to sulk. He was always the one complaining that I wasn’t proactive enough. But the one time I decided to take the lead, he was the one to turn me down. What was wrong with him? Fine, I fumed silently, I’m never speaking to him again. Just as I made that vow, I heard a noise. The office door creaked open. Liam peeked out, shot a furtive glance in my direction, and then scurried into our bedroom like a thief in the night. I raised an eyebrow. Even though I was still annoyed, my curiosity won. I followed him. Wouldn’t you know it, the second I reached the bedroom, he ducked into the master bathroom. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on, the sound of the water a poor attempt to cover his escape. He was definitely hiding from me. Resigned, I walked to the bathroom door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t turn. He’d locked it. Okay, now I was certain. Liam was actively avoiding me. He never locked the door. He was the kind of man who’d lounge in the bathtub and call out with a teasing grin, “Honey, you sure you don’t want to join me?” Standing outside the locked door, I had a rare moment of self-doubt. Was I too aggressive just now? But compared to how Liam usually was with me, what I did was nothing. Wasn’t he always the one showering me with kisses and pulling me into his arms? Wasn’t he the one who would turn our world upside down for days on end? The one who left me so sore I couldn’t get out of bed? And now? I make one move, and he acts like I’m the plague? My annoyance flared into full-blown anger. I swore to myself that when he finally came out, I was going to make him pay. I ended up waiting for a full hour. When Liam finally emerged, his earlier awkwardness was gone. He looked composed as he said my name. “Chloe.” I just grunted, keeping my back to him. He rushed to my side, a stream of apologies tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just… I froze for a second. You know, we haven’t seen each other in days, and I missed you so much…” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me gently. The familiar sensation started to melt my anger. I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can get off that easily.” “You can stay mad. It’s okay.” He looked at me, his eyes shining like an eager puppy’s. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of disconnect. The Liam I knew would never look at me like this. It wasn’t that his gaze lacked love before, but his love had always been intertwined with a fierce, possessive desire. Now, that desire was still there, but it was swimming in a sea of pure, almost boyish adoration. My hand instinctively rose to cup his cheek. “What is going on with you?” “Nothing.” He wrapped his arms around me loosely, resting his chin on my shoulder. He sounded like he was whispering a secret to himself. “I’m just… I’m so happy.” He let out a sigh, a soft, wondering sound. “I can’t believe you’re my wife. I’m the luckiest man alive.” I gently pushed him back. “We’ve been married for almost two years. Isn’t it a little late for that kind of talk?” “It’s never too late,” he insisted, a playful stubbornness in his voice. “I could say it every day for the rest of my life, and it would never be too late.” His sweet words worked. My anger evaporated, and I generously pressed my lips against his. I held them there for a full ten seconds. He didn’t move. Not an inch. I peeked through one eye. Liam’s expression was one of pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. His face was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—he desperately wanted to kiss me back but was terrified to try. My lips still on his, I murmured, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” “Yes. I am. I want to.” As he spoke, his lips unconsciously began to move against mine. It was like a switch had been flipped. He started to kiss me, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, but something still felt… off. Why is he kissing me like it’s his first time? He doesn’t even know how to breathe! I opened my eyes again. Seeing the raw excitement on his face, I didn’t have the heart to stop him. Oh, well. I guess even a clumsy, hungry kiss has its own charm. 3 I magnanimously forgave all of Liam’s bizarre behavior, but he just kept getting weirder. The weirdest part? He stopped touching me. This was a massive red flag. Since the day we got married, the man had the libido of a rabbit. Suddenly, he’d turned into a monk, and frankly, I wasn’t used to it. We’d be lying in the same bed. I’d inch closer to him. His breathing would quicken, but he wouldn’t touch me. I’d wrap my arms around him. His body would react, but he still wouldn’t touch me. It was like he’d become a master of self-control overnight, practicing celibacy as if he were saving himself for someone. This sudden chill in our marriage was driving me crazy. I called my best friend, Zoe, and dragged her out for drinks. I avoided talking about Liam, rambling about everything else, but she saw right through me. “Why hasn’t Liam called you yet?” she asked with a teasing grin. “Normally, whenever you’re out, your phone is blowing up with his texts and calls. What’s up? Did you two have a fight?” I pursed my lips and took a bitter sip of my wine. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Zoe scoffed. “Anyone with eyes can see that man is head-over-heels for you.” That was all it took. The floodgates opened, and I told her everything—all of his strange behavior, with a special emphasis on his newfound vow of chastity. “What could possibly make him act like that?” I finished, taking another angry gulp of wine. “He’s practically sleeping on the far edge of the bed, like he’s afraid I’ll bite!” “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said, trying to soothe me. “Maybe… maybe there’s something he’s not telling you? Something he’s embarrassed about?” My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: he couldn’t perform anymore. But then I remembered the very obvious evidence to the contrary. He was more than capable; he was just choosing to endure the torture rather than touch me. “He was on that business trip in France, right?” Zoe continued. “I heard things can get a little rough over there. What if he got hurt and is afraid to tell you?” That thought hadn’t occurred to me. “He wouldn’t want you to worry, you know? That makes total sense. And you said his flight back was delayed by two days… what if it was because he needed medical attention? That would also explain why he’s been avoiding you…” She sounded so certain. “That has to be it.” Her words echoed in my head. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rush home, strip Liam naked, and inspect every inch of his body for myself. It was past eleven when I got home. As I opened the door, Liam, who had been waiting on the sofa, jumped up and rushed toward me. But as he got closer, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been drinking?” If you were so worried, why didn’t you call me once? I thought bitterly. I brushed past his outstretched hand, but he was persistent, steadying me and guiding me to the couch. A moment later, he returned with a glass of honey water. I stared at him intently. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head, looking completely baffled. “No. Of course not.” “Then take off your clothes.” His face instantly turned scarlet. He hesitantly lifted the hem of his pajama shirt, then dropped it, his fingers fumbling. He repeated the motion a few times, paralyzed by indecision. I narrowed my eyes. “What, you won’t even let me see your abs anymore?” He stopped hesitating. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt over his head. The torso revealed before me was flawless, ripped enough to be on a magazine cover. There wasn’t a single scratch or bruise, nothing like Zoe had suggested. I glared at him. “The pants, too.” “Ch-Chloe…” “Now.” He reluctantly complied, his movements awkward and shy. I stared at the man standing before me, vulnerable and flushed, and I finally snapped. I pushed him back onto the sofa, planting my hands on his shoulders and pinning him down. “Liam,” I demanded, “what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked up at me, a mix of shock and shyness in his eyes. “I… I don’t think anything’s wrong with me.” “Then prove it.” My voice dropped to a low, suggestive whisper as I looked into his panicked eyes. “Don’t make me think less of you.” Liam’s gaze met mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Just when I thought he was going to back down again, his hand shot up to cup the back of my head, and he crashed his lips against mine in a wild, desperate kiss. 4 As it turns out, you should never challenge a man’s pride. Driven by his fear of disappointing me, Liam spent the entire night proving himself. He went from clumsy and reckless to skilled and confident, and his performance was, to put it mildly, breathtaking. At the time, I was too busy—and too exhausted—to think about it too deeply. But the next morning, as I lay in bed, every muscle aching, all the strange pieces started clicking into place. Last night, Liam hadn’t been the mature, experienced husband I’d known for two years. He’d been more like a fumbling teenager who had just lost his virginity. He had no experience, no technique. His hands were shaking when he tried to put on the condom; he couldn’t find the right spot, and he almost finished before we even started. I’d had the urge to kick him off the bed, but seeing the sweat on his brow and the panicked look in his eyes, I’d held back. He eventually found his rhythm, even getting back to his usual impressive standard, but still… It was so, so strange. How could a man so skilled in the bedroom suddenly lose all his talent overnight? I turned it over and over in my mind, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Just then, the man in question pushed the door open and walked in. He was wearing a set of comfortable, loose-fitting loungewear. He’d clearly just showered; his hair was still damp, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead. It was a messy look, but it gave him an unexpected, boyish charm. Looking at him, I felt a wave of cognitive dissonance. He was both familiar and a complete stranger. Liam sat on the edge of the bed, a tray in his hands holding a bowl of white porridge. “Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Eat a little something for now. We can have a proper meal later.” “Feed me,” I said quietly. “My arms are sore.” The tips of his ears turned bright red, but he calmly picked up the spoon and brought it to my lips. The porridge was the perfect temperature, but it was bland. He hadn’t added any sugar. I snuck a glance at him. Liam was meticulous about details; forgetting something as simple as sugar was completely out of character. The seed of doubt in my mind grew larger. After a few tasteless spoonfuls, I stared at his crimson ears and couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you blushing?” Liam lowered his gaze. “Your… your clothes are a little messy.” I looked down. He had dressed me in a silk slip dress after we were done. One of the straps had fallen off my shoulder, revealing a swath of skin and a constellation of faint red marks. I was even more confused. “So what?” He reached out and gently adjusted the strap, his movements so careful it was as if he were afraid to touch my skin. I placed my hand over his, pressing it firmly against my shoulder. “We’re a married couple. Is there anything you haven’t seen?” Liam’s eyes widened in a flustered blink. The strangeness was overwhelming. I finally decided to just ask him directly. “What is wrong with you? You won’t kiss me, you won’t touch me… It’s like you’re a completely different person. Are you even my husband anymore?” “I am! I’m your husband.” “Then why are you stuttering?” It took him a few seconds to react. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me, clearly trying to shut me up. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily. I pushed him back, my voice cold. “I want an explanation. Now.” Liam’s eyes fell. “A lot has happened recently, and I don’t know how to handle it yet. Can you just give me a little more time? I promise I’ll sort it out soon.” I’d rarely seen him like this. It reminded me of the broken, exhausted man who had first come home from his trip. “Is it about work?” I asked. “Y-yes. Yes,” he answered quickly. “It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” He looked at me with such genuine apology in his eyes that all my suspicions melted away. It was rare for Liam to face a problem he couldn’t solve. So if he was acting a little strange, maybe that was normal, right? 5 “So you just forgave him like that? Chloe, you’re spoiling that man rotten,” my best friend Zoe declared, completely baffled. “What else was I supposed to do?” I swirled the tea in my cup, my gaze indifferent. “Keep fighting with him? Start another argument? What would that accomplish?” “So, is he still acting weird?” “It’s hard to say. Yes and no.” It was a bizarre feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Sometimes, I felt like Liam was just pretending to be close to me, but other times, it felt real. I chalked it up to me being overly sensitive. “Well, try not to overthink it.” Zoe clinked her cup against mine. I nodded, trying to reassure myself. “He’s a busy man. All I can do is be supportive—” My words were cut short when Liam’s assistant walked into the café. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Seeing his assistant here, looking relaxed, was… interesting. When he came over to our table to say hello, I seized the opportunity. “Has work been crazy busy lately?” I asked casually. “It’s been manageable,” he replied. “No major problems? Nothing… tricky?” He thought for a moment. “Everything’s been running smoothly. Not that I’m aware of, no.” I offered him a tight smile and stood up. “That’s great to hear. I think I’ll head over to the office with you.” The entire car ride, my mind raced. Liam had lied to me. If his stress wasn’t from work, then what was the real reason for his strange behavior? I hated where my thoughts were going, but all the signs pointed to one devastating conclusion— He was falling for someone else. Maybe he’d met another woman, and that’s why he’d become so distant, so absent-minded with me. He was just going through the motions. His hugs were stiff. His kisses were wooden. Even when we made love, he seemed like his soul was somewhere else. He was nothing like the man I had married. Taking a deep breath, I walked into his office building, carrying the afternoon tea I’d picked up. I passed out the pastries and coffee to the staff in the executive suite, who cheerfully informed me that Liam was in a meeting. So, I sat in his office to wait. His phone, his personal tablet, and his laptop were all sitting right there on his desk. I’d never been the type to snoop. Liam had never given me a reason to doubt him. But now… now I was curious. What if there really was someone else? Without a second thought, I picked up his phone. I checked his texts, his call logs, his photo gallery. Nothing. Not a single suspicious thing. I raised an eyebrow and reached for the tablet. The passcode was still my birthday. I unlocked it, but instead of the home screen, it opened to the last page he’d been viewing. He must have just closed the cover without closing the app. It was a post on a forum, a plea for help. The title read: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] My brow furrowed as my eyes scanned the first few lines of the post. “Hey everyone, so I just graduated high school. The other day I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was in a strange city, and the girl I’ve been in love with forever was calling me her husband, asking when I was coming home…” I wondered why Liam would be reading such a ridiculous story, but then my gaze caught the username: MyWifeChloe. My eyes widened. My name is Chloe. My heart stopped beating. My fingers trembled as I tapped on the user’s profile picture, then navigated to their main page. And there, I saw it—the option to “Edit Profile.” The world went silent. This was Liam’s account. Which meant the person who wrote that post… was Liam himself. Holy. Shit.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384721”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new assistant designer at the firm was… creative. She’d boldly taken a sixty-year-old client’s request for a Classic Heritage look and transformed it into Cozy Chic. She’d fearlessly reimagined a newlywed couple’s marital haven into a stark, funereal monochrome. I’d cleaned up her messes more times than I could count, doling out public reprimands and official penalties to no avail. When I finally decided she had to go, my partner, David, refused to sign off on it. “This is just how Gen Z is,” he’d said with a shrug. “They’re full of personality. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” I dropped the subject and said no more. Instead, I quietly resigned and started my own company. Later, I heard my old firm had stepped in it—big time. That same young woman, so cherished by the boss, had decided the design for the new City Hall was too stuffy. So, on her own authority, she’d had the entire thing painted Barbie pink. 1 “Ava, we have another situation.” My assistant, Leah, rushed into my office, her words catching in her throat. The look on her face told me everything. It had to be our resident creative genius, Miss Full-of-Ideas, striking again. After the Classic Heritage-turned-Cozy Chic incident, and the wedding suite-turned-mausoleum fiasco, I figured nothing she did could surprise me anymore. “Alright, spit it out. What client’s design did she butcher this time?” “Well, it’s not the design, Ava…” Leah stammered. “This time, she invited a few friends over to the client’s villa—the one that’s supposed to be handed over this afternoon. They had a party. It’s… a disaster.” Leah handed me her phone, and I swiped through the photos from the scene. A dull throb started behind my eyes. “Disaster” was putting it mildly. “Utter devastation” was closer to the mark. Furniture was overturned, garbage littered every surface, and a closer look revealed the tell-tale shimmer of discarded foil wrappers glinting in the debris. That, at least, could be cleaned. But the brand-new white walls were splattered with what looked like bright red hot sauce. The pristine white marble countertops were stained with dark, inky puddles that had already seeped into the stone. And the client’s custom-made, thousand-dollar wool rug was matted with several sticky, unidentifiable clumps of… something. The sheer scale of the wreckage was overwhelming. I didn’t even know where to begin. “When is the handover?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose, my eyes squeezed shut. “This afternoon. Two o’clock,” Leah whispered. “Right. Okay. I need you to schedule an emergency meeting with David and the other directors. Now,” I instructed. “And make sure Chloe is there. Have HR join, too.” Leah nodded, then hesitated. “There’s a small problem with that. Chloe is… still at the villa. She just woke up from her drunken stupor. She’s sleeping it off in the client’s master bedroom.” A white-hot rage flared in my chest. I shot to my feet, my palm slamming against the desk. Without another word, I stormed into David’s office next door. “Your little protégée has been busy,” I snapped, throwing Leah’s phone onto his desk. “You can either call the client and explain this yourself, or you can have her do it.” David didn’t appreciate the intrusion. He hastily blanked his phone screen and shot me an annoyed look. “Ava, how many times do I have to say it? We’re not a scrappy startup anymore. A little courtesy, like knocking, would be appreciated. Some things require privacy.” I was too furious to speak. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d been watching highlight clips from Chloe’s livestream. I recognized the background; a few colleagues had shown it to me before, marveling at how these “slash-generation” kids all had side hustles. They’d even commented on how generous Chloe’s top donor was, sometimes dropping thousands in a single night. “Fine. I’ll remember that for next time,” I said, my voice tight. “Now look at the photos.” He picked up the phone. It was his design, his project. He recognized the villa instantly. A few swipes later, his face contorted with fury. He slammed his fist on his own desk, the sound echoing through the office. “Is this Mr. Sterling’s place? Who? Who the hell would dare to do this? I’m supposed to walk him through the final inspection this afternoon! What am I supposed to show him now?!” I crossed my arms, a humorless smile on my lips. “Who else? Your adorable, hand-picked assistant. Chloe.” The fire in David’s eyes died instantly, replaced by a flicker of awkward defensiveness. 2 David and I founded Apex Designs together. We’d been classmates in design school, friends for years. Through all the tough times, we never compromised on our design philosophy or the quality of our work. We clawed our way through the lean early years and slowly built the firm into what it was today—a respected company with hundreds of employees, a stellar reputation, and an IPO on the horizon. Then, after the New Year, David showed up with a young woman in tow. His new assistant. Chloe arrived with a cloud of pinkish-purple curls, wearing a sheer, cropped blouse, denim shorts that were more pocket than pant, and a pair of Crocs. The entire office, myself included, was stunned. But David waved it all away. “This is the new generation,” he’d declared. “It’s personality, especially for a cutting-edge designer. We should encourage it.” When I asked about her education and experience, however, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “The school was mean, they wouldn’t give me my diploma,” she’d whimpered. “I’m super sad about it, but I don’t wanna talk about it.” I was floored. As the co-founder and Design Director, I had standards. An employee with that level of emotional maturity didn’t meet any of them. But David was inexplicably moved. He laid down the law, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Our firm is too buttoned-up, Ava. It’s full of straight-laced people. It feels… stagnant. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt any real passion or inspiration for design?” I said nothing. He was the CEO, I was the VP. In the end, I had no real power to veto his choice of assistant. But my silence unleashed a torrent of problems. This girl, Chloe, was certainly… special. She complained that the catered lunches weren’t to her taste, and after a few tearful sessions with David, corn dogs and french fries were added to the menu. She couldn’t possibly drink plain bottled water, so she’d wheedled David into having the admin stock the fridge with Capri Suns and Yoo-hoos. That was just the beginning. Her “brilliant ideas” started small, with unauthorized tweaks to approved designs. She’d swap out a client’s bedroom hardwood floors for cold tile, or their bathroom porcelain for brutalist concrete. She’d tear down walls for an open-concept kitchen a client never asked for. She even had a magnificent crystal chandelier a client had hand-picked ripped out and replaced with soulless recessed lighting. Every time a client stormed into our office, furious and demanding compensation, Chloe would simply hide behind David, her eyes shimmering with tears as she offered her defense. “David, babe, their ideas were just so dated,” she’d pout. “They just don’t get what’s trending now. I didn’t want our company’s work to look basic. Is it so wrong to have artistic integrity?” And David, after a moment’s thought, would actually conclude, “Her intentions were good, even if the execution was a little off.” With him covering for her, Chloe grew bolder. Soon, she was changing entire design schemes without consulting anyone. Mediterranean became minimalist, Scandinavian became French Country, Japanese Zen became Korean Cottagecore… she was a force of stubborn, chaotic creativity. She refused to stick to a plan, insisting on her “spontaneous inspiration.” The project managers assigned to her were losing their minds. But she was the CEO’s assistant, and David doted on her. Everyone assumed she had connections, so no one dared to cross her. When I finally cornered her and demanded an explanation, she blew a bubble with her gum and smirked. “The clients have terrible taste. I’m just giving them the hottest styles from Pinterest.” And after every disaster, David would sigh, comfort Chloe, and then send me to smooth things over with the client. How do you smooth over something like that? With money. Lots of it. We either had to undo her changes for free and throw in an upgrade, or we had to compensate them for lost time and emotional distress. I made a point of deducting every single dollar from Chloe’s salary. But all it took was one tearful visit to David’s office, and after a token lecture, he’d absorb the cost himself. As long as someone else was paying, I couldn’t say much. But this time, she had gone too far. 3 The owner of the villa, Mr. Sterling, was the CEO of a major real estate development company. He’d given us the contract for his personal residence as a favor to a mutual business partner. We were all hoping this project would be the gateway to a much larger contract for all of his company’s new model homes. Now… well, now he probably wanted to kill us. David and I were at a standoff in his office, the argument raging. I was adamant: Chloe had to be fired. She was a liability who did nothing but cause trouble and act like a child. He wouldn’t budge. He kept insisting there must have been some kind of misunderstanding. I was livid. “A misunderstanding? Are you going to go tell Mr. Sterling it was a misunderstanding? That’s as good as telling him we’re an unreliable, untrustworthy firm! We can’t meet a simple deadline, and if he finds out what really happened, do you think he’ll ever feel comfortable living in that house?” David’s brow furrowed as he grasped for a defense. “I know Chloe. She has a lot of ideas, sure, but she wouldn’t do something this insane. Besides, even if you fire her, there will be a thousand other Chloes. That’s just how Gen Z is. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” His twisted logic made me want to scream. “Where are you getting this idea that I have a problem with Gen Z? Leah, Josh, Kate—they’re all Gen Z. When was the last time any of them caused a five-alarm fire? Since you’re so determined to protect her and clean up her messes, why don’t you just take her home and keep her as a pet? Why inflict her on the rest of us?” That hit a nerve. He blurted out, “You know, Ava, now that you mention it, why are you always so focused on Chloe? There are plenty of other young employees here.” I stared at him, incredulous. Before I could even form a response, the door swung open. “You don’t have to ask, David, babe. I know why,” Chloe announced, sauntering in with a messy bun and the hungover face of someone who’d just woken up. She was sipping a large bubble tea. “Ava’s, what, eight years older than me? We’re practically from different generations. Of course she doesn’t get me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, I’m young, and I’m always around you… It’s only natural for her to feel a little… threatened.” 4 The room fell silent. Every eye in the office, including the directors who had gathered for the meeting, turned to me. I was utterly baffled. David and I had known each other for a decade, worked side-by-side building this company. Sure, in the early days, there might have been a spark, a mutual flicker of something more as we supported each other through the struggle. But years of working together day in and day out had ground that spark into dust. For my part, at least, my feelings for him were purely platonic and professional. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Over the holidays, I’d reconnected with an old high school classmate at a wedding. He worked in the same city, we’d hit it off immediately, and just last month, I’d accepted his proposal. But that was my private life; I saw no reason to broadcast it at work. Not to mention, ever since Chloe’s arrival, David had been too busy either parading her around to meetings or cleaning up her disasters to pay attention to anyone else’s life. I dropped all pretense of politeness. “Get your head on straight,” I said to Chloe, my voice ice-cold. “I am the Vice President of this company. As an employee, do you think it’s appropriate to spread malicious rumors about me? This is a workplace, not a daycare. Act like a professional. As for Mr. Sterling’s villa, the company could sue you for the damages, and we’d win. So, which will it be? Are you going to pay for the repairs, or do we handle this through our lawyers?” The bubble tea suddenly seemed less appealing. Chloe’s lower lip trembled as she turned her big, pleading eyes to David, just as she had countless times before. “David, I didn’t mean to! My friends heard that the famous designer David himself did the villa, and they all wanted to see it. I was so proud of you, I just had to show them… We got tired and just had a little snack… Besides, doesn’t the company have a cleaning crew? Just have them tidy up. If we don’t say anything, the client will never know.” A flicker of conflict—and a hint of pity—crossed David’s face. I saw him start to soften. “David,” I cut in sharply before he could speak. “Mr. Sterling is expecting the final walkthrough in two hours. You need to figure out what you’re going to tell him.” Chloe piped up, her voice a syrupy whisper. “It’ll be fine. I don’t think Mr. Sterling is mean and scary like some people. He’s probably just like the big-spender fans in my livestream. They all adore me. It’s okay, David, babe, I’ll go with you this afternoon. I’ll just bat my eyelashes and ask him nicely to forgive us.” David’s expression relaxed. He gave her a half-hearted scolding. “Chloe, you were in the wrong here. You need to sincerely apologize to Mr. Sterling this afternoon.” Her tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. “You got it!” Seeing that he was once again going to shield her, I gave up. “Fine. Whoever made the mess can clean it up. But I’m putting it on the record right now: if this isn’t resolved today, either she goes, or I do.”

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After I failed to conquer three male leads, the System was about to delete me. Suddenly, it was forcibly logged out. 【Hello, Host. I am Advanced System 001, and my mission success rate is a perfect one hundred percent. To maintain that record, you will now restart your missions with those three failed targets.】 A pained sob escaped my lips. “…I can’t grovel anymore. I really, truly can’t.” 001 let out a cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone refuses to love you, I’ll just kill them.】 I blinked. “Huh?” 1 My body was dumped on a muddy mountain path. Disembodied, I watched as wild beasts tore me apart, leaving nothing but a pile of clean-picked bones. As my spirit floated in the air, I was pulled back into the stark white space of the System. A blue orb of light bobbed before me, shaking in disappointment. 【Regrettably, Host, you have failed three consecutive conquest missions. According to the Transmigration Codex, as your System, I have the right to proceed with your deletion.】 I didn’t argue. After three catastrophic failures, I had lost all hope. The three targets were worse than the last, each one a special brand of asshole, and I’d been forced to cater to them, to cast aside my dignity and act like some pathetic, fawning dog. If I resisted, my old system would hit me with electric shocks or seize control of my body. In the end, it always led to a gruesome death without even a proper corpse to show for it. Now, hearing the sentence passed down, I just felt… tired. I didn’t even have the will to beg for my life. Giving up completely, I lay down on the pristine white floor to enjoy my final moments. 【Deletion countdown commencing. 3… 2…】 Before it could say ‘1’, the blue orb vanished from my sight. In its place hovered a golden orb, noticeably larger and more brilliant than my old system. It gave me a polite, almost imperceptible nod. 【Greetings, Host 739. I am System 001. Due to the one-hundred-percent failure rate of you and your assigned system, I will be taking over your case from this point forward.】 I sat up. “Take me over for what? I’m about to be deleted. A new system can’t change that.” 001’s tone was chillingly indifferent. 【Your case is an extreme outlier. Such a perfect record of failure is a rarity even within our Transmigration Division. Therefore, I have filed a petition to cancel your deletion. We will be deleting your previous system instead.】 My lips trembled. “Deleting…” Good riddance! I almost laughed out loud. But then it hit me. If 001 was taking over, it meant I had to go back. Back to the missions, back to the grovelling. The despair of that thought quickly extinguished the joy of hearing my old system was getting scrapped. “You know what? Just kill me.” I flopped back onto the floor, my voice thick with a misery I couldn’t hide. “I really don’t want to be a doormat for some guy again. Doormats get walked all over and end up with nothing.” To my surprise, 001 cried out, a note of genuine shock in its synthesized voice. 【That’s how your previous system made you complete your missions?!】 I was taken aback. “How else? If I didn’t play along, it would electrocute me or hit me with psychic attacks. At this point, I think I have PTSD from just looking at men.” The memory of all that bitterness and pain washed over me, and I started to sob, the tears flowing freely. “I really can’t grovel anymore…” 001 went silent for a moment before letting out that same, cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone dares not to fall in love with you, I’ll kill them.】 “Uh…” Dude, is that even allowed? 2 Before I could object, 001 teleported me into my first failed world. Its words still echoed in my mind. 【I, 001, do not accept failure. We get back up right where we fell.】 The first thing I felt was the cold, sticky shock of red wine splashing across my face. Asher’s icy gaze bore down on me as he stood with his arms crossed, looking down his nose at me. “Cut the crap with your cheap little tricks, Evelyn. If it weren’t for you, why would Isabelle be ignoring me? Since you love making a scene so much, go on, give everyone a show.” With a snap of his fingers, he summoned six large, brutish men. He even took the time to set up a camera, ready to enjoy the spectacle he had arranged. Only then did I realize I was wearing a slinky, backless red dress. The wine had soaked through the fabric, making it cling to every curve. Déjà vu hit me like a punch to the gut. This had happened before. Asher, annoyed by my constant presence, had blamed me for making the girl he was chasing, Isabelle, jealous. He’d hired these six thugs to humiliate me, filmed the entire thing, and posted it online. My reputation was destroyed. Isabelle later had me sold off overseas, where I died a particularly miserable death. The memory sent a tremor through my entire body. Asher saw it and smirked. “Scared now? It’s a little late for that.” He gave a nod, and the nearest thug started lumbering toward me. Just then, 001’s voice rang out in my head. 【Don’t be afraid, Host. I’ve downloaded advanced combat knowledge into your mind. Now, do exactly as I say.】 001 wasn’t lying. A strange, potent energy surged through me. I felt like I could take down eight men with my eyes closed. As the closest thug’s sweaty, leering face got inches from mine, I closed my eyes and threw a punch straight at his nose. There was a deafening BOOM. I opened my eyes. The thug was gone. In his place was a massive, gaping hole in the wall of the hotel room. The remaining five men stared, their faces pale with terror, and stumbled backward. Asher was frozen in place, his smug expression wiped clean off his face. 001 issued a cold, simple command. 【Now, go slap Asher a few times.】 A thrill coursed through me. “Just a few slaps?” 【If you’re so inclined, you can give him a proper beating.】 My fingers twitched. “Any… restrictions?” 【None. You can beat him until he’s a stranger, and then beat him some more until he feels like a long-lost relative.】 “Huh?” 001 was concise. 【Beat him until he gets on his knees and calls you ‘Mommy’.】 “…” I walked toward Asher step by step. Seeing their chance, the other thugs scrambled out of the room. Asher’s brow furrowed. “Evelyn, what do you think you’re doing?” “Asher,” I said softly. “Long time, no see.” He looked completely baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” I didn’t explain. I just swung my hand, and the crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. Asher was furious. “You’re the one who wouldn’t leave me alone! I was just pushing back—” Before he could finish, another sharp slap sent him stumbling. He fell backward, his head cracking against the edge of a cabinet. He grimaced in pain. “You! You bitch! I’m going to kill you!” I remained silent, letting my fists do the talking. Asher sputtered, “You just wait…” A punch knocked out a few of his teeth. “I’ll make you pay for—” A sickening crack signaled a broken arm. Finally, he started begging. “I was wrong! Please, let me go!” I kept at it, silent and relentless, until Asher’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold. 001 applauded in my mind. 【A shame you didn’t kill him, but it’s progress.】 My eyes widened. “Isn’t he my conquest target? If I kill him, won’t the mission fail?” 001 sounded utterly unconcerned. 【So what? If he dies, we’ll just pick another one.】 “…” 3 Killing him was out of the question. This was a world with laws, and if Asher actually died, I wouldn’t be getting away with it. But knowing his vindictive nature, just letting him go wasn’t an option either. He’d make my life a living hell. An idea sparked in my mind. I dragged his unconscious body onto the bed and consulted with my new partner. “001, can you hack Asher’s phone and get those guys to come back?” 001 sounded personally offended. 【Is that all you think I’m capable of?】 I was confused. “What’s wrong with that?” 【With my capabilities,】 001 declared haughtily, 【I could summon a hundred men.】 “Uh…?” I politely declined its attempt to flex its muscles. The original thugs soon shuffled back into the room, their eyes wide with terror the moment they saw me. They instinctively tried to bolt. I blocked their path. “Let me get the pictures I want, and I’ll double whatever he paid you.” With a nod, I pointed toward Asher, who was still out cold on the bed. The men exchanged nervous glances, but the allure of money won out in the end. After leaving the hotel, I found Isabelle waiting outside, her beautifully manicured hands clenched into fists, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why are you the only one who came out? Where’s Asher?” A strange smile played on my lips. “Who knows? Maybe he’s… enjoying himself.” Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms as she hissed a threat. “I’m warning you, Asher is mine. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl out of our lives like the dog you are.” I patted her shoulder with faux sympathy. “Oh, honey, it’s not just ‘your’ world.” It’s a world for the seven of you. “?” Back at my apartment, the adrenaline finally wore off. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained, and struck up a conversation with 001. “So, 001, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you choose to bind with me?” 001 seemed preoccupied with something, taking a moment to reply. 【My performance has been number one for years. It’s gotten boring. I’d never seen a Host as spectacularly bad as you, so I figured, why not? You were such an unprecedented failure, it was a professional curiosity. Even if it’s a dumpster fire, I have to see how it burns.】 “Excuse me?” Are you even trying to be polite? 001 must have realized it had been a bit harsh, because it quickly added another comment. 【Honestly, you’re not that bad. You just got stuck with a defective system. 3412 was from the last batch of faulty units. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t your fault.】 I was so used to being berated and blamed by my old system that hearing those words… It wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. My nose tingled, and I felt an overwhelming urge to give 001 a hug. Too bad it didn’t have a physical form. The sentimental moment passed quickly, and 001 was all business again. 【We can’t switch targets until the current one is dead, so I’m giving you two options. Option one: continue pursuing Asher. Option two: kill Asher and we pick someone new. Your choice.】 I hesitated. “There’s no way Asher will fall for me after I beat him half to death. But I don’t really want to be a murderer either…” 001 made the decision for me. 【Simple. We stick with him for now. You just do exactly what I tell you to do.】 At one in the morning, Asher slowly regained consciousness. He rubbed his aching neck and tried to sit up, but a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He saw a woman sitting by his bed. She wasn’t speaking, just quietly peeling a piece of fruit. Hearing him stir, I turned my head, held up the fruit knife, and gave him a bright smile. “Asher, do you love me?” “?” “A GHOST! AHHHHH!” 4 I pressed the tip of the knife against his neck, a silent warning to shut up. The cold steel did its job, and Asher fell silent, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. “Be… be careful. Don’t let it slip.” I repeated my question. “Asher, do you love me?” He gritted his teeth. “Isabelle is the only one in my heart. No matter how much you force me, I will never love you.” I casually withdrew the knife and stuck it into a slice of apple. “Fine. I’ll ask you again tomorrow.” “…” For the next few days, I made a habit of popping up in front of Asher at random times. I’d beat him up, then ask him if he loved me. If he didn’t answer, I’d repeat the process. “001, is this really going to work?” I asked one day. 【There is a ninety-nine percent chance of success.】 I lowered my eyes. “And the other one percent?” 【The other one percent is that you beat him to death.】 “…” After nearly two weeks of this torment, Asher’s mental state was hanging on by a thread. The moment he tried to call the police for help, I conveniently presented him with the photos and videos from the hotel room. That broke him. He fell to his knees, begging me to leave him alone. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this hatred?” I looked down at the tear-streaked face of the man who had once held my life in his hands. “If you didn’t like me,” I asked coolly, “why did you let me get close? You enjoyed everything I did for you, treated me like your personal servant, and then threw me away like trash.” Don’t think I didn’t know. His signals had always been mixed. Every time I was about to give up, he’d toss me a scrap of affection, a breadcrumb of hope, just to keep me hooked. He got used to my devotion, all while telling his friends I was nothing more than a dog he could summon and dismiss at will. If it weren’t for that useless old system holding me back, I would have killed him myself long ago. Asher’s face went pale. He shut his eyes in resignation. “If that’s what this is about… fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend. Is that good enough for you?” I stared at him. “So, do you love me?” “…” “I guess you don’t love me enough,” I said thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.” “…” I slipped out of Asher’s apartment through the window, oblivious to the venomous glare he shot at my back. He muttered under his breath, “Evelyn… I’ll make sure you die.” Then, he dialed a number. “Isabelle, can you help me with something?” Back at my place, I collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the ache in my temples. “How can Asher be so stubborn? My arms are getting tired from beating him, and he still won’t just say he loves me.” 001’s voice was calm. 【If he won’t say it, it means you haven’t been cruel enough. Next time, break both his legs, lock him in the house, and starve him for a few days. If he says he likes you, he gets a sip of water. If he says he loves you, he gets food.】 The more I listened, the more I started to feel a little creeped out. Just as I was about to ask where it learned these… techniques, my phone rang. It was Asher. He was trying his best to hide the hatred in his voice, speaking in a soft, gentle tone. “Evelyn, you wanted to hear me say I love you, right? Come to the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town tomorrow. I have a surprise waiting for you there. You have to come. I’ll be waiting.” Before I could even respond, he hung up. A heavy silence fell between me and 001. Me: “He must think I’m a complete idiot.” The trap was so obvious, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 001: 【…He’s already been through so much. Just humor him.】 5 After some thought, I decided to go. 001 had been complaining about my slow progress, reminding me that we still had two more worlds to get through. If I didn’t wrap this up soon, it threatened to take matters into its own hands. The thought of its “water for like, food for love” theory was enough to convince me to just get this over with and give Asher what was coming to him. At four in the afternoon, I took a cab to within a hundred yards of the abandoned factory. I could see Asher from a distance, pacing anxiously at the entrance. When he spotted me, he rushed over, his eyes darting around nervously, but his smile was blindingly bright. “I have a surprise for you. Just walk inside and you’ll see it.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, do you love me today?” Asher: “…?” Since he wouldn’t answer, I gave him a familiar beatdown and tossed his groaning body to the side. “001, can you see if anyone’s inside?” 【The factory is empty.】 Feeling confident, I started walking in, but a strange, sweet smell hit me. 001’s voice suddenly shouted in my mind. 【Watch out! Retreat, now! The whole place is filled with sevoflurane!】 It was too late. I’d already taken a deep breath to identify the scent. My vision swam, and the world went black. 001: 【…】 A sudden torrent of cold water shocked me awake, and I gasped, shivering uncontrollably. 001’s voice sounded weak and distorted in my head. 【You’re awake?】 I didn’t answer. I was tied tightly to a chair. Across the room, Asher and Isabelle were huddled together. When he saw my eyes open, Asher’s face, swollen like a pig’s, twisted into a triumphant grin. “You’re finished, Evelyn.” A group of burly, black-clad men filed in through the door. Isabelle waved a hand in front of her face, a look of disgust on hers. “Don’t kill her. I was planning on selling her off overseas again.” Asher’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Of course, darling. Anything you want.” He pulled out a small knife and pressed the cold flat of the blade against my cheek, his teeth grinding with rage. “Evelyn, did you ever imagine you’d end up back in my hands?” I ignored him, screaming at 001 in my mind. Me: I’m so sorry. This mission is a failure too. 001, surprisingly, was comforting. 【It’s not your fault. Asher’s just a bigger scumbag than we anticipated.】 I sighed. Me: Just remember to block the pain for me. I’ll see you in the next world. 001 let out a chilling laugh. 【No need. Asher dared to ruin my perfect record. Today, I’m going to show him what a real superpower looks like.】 Me: Huh? 【Confirmed timeline coordinates. Initiating reset.】 Me: ! Time snapped backward, rewinding to the moment just before I stepped into the factory. Asher was still on the ground, pretending to be unconscious. This time, I walked up and gave him a solid kick. He yelped in pain, the sound loud enough to draw out Isabelle and the thugs who had been hiding around the factory. “Asher!” He looked absolutely crushed. “What are you all doing out here?” Isabelle looked wounded by his tone. “She was bullying you! I couldn’t just stand by and watch.” “I was this close to luring her inside!” he despaired. “You…” I cut him off with a punch that sent blood streaming from his nose. I smiled sweetly. “Quite the setup you have here. All that sevoflurane must have been hard to get, huh?” “You—how did you know?” I wasn’t about to tell him my backup was stronger than his. I just hit him again. “Do you love me or not?” Isabelle tried to step in, but 001 summoned a perfectly aimed bolt of lightning from the heavens. Anyone who moved got zapped. Under the relentless storm of my fists, Asher finally broke. Tears and snot streamed down his face. “I love you! I love you, okay?!” 001 instantly captured the key phrase. 【Love from the conquest target has been detected. Calculating mission results.】 Back in the white space, I felt a little uneasy. “Are we really going to get away with cheating the system like that?” 001 was nonchalant. 【He said he loved you. I extracted that keyword and made a few thousand copies for the record. The Inspectorate won’t find a thing.】 “But what if they do?” 【What’s there to be afraid of? I run the Inspectorate.】 Me: “?”

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For twenty-five years, I’d been working to win over Bryan Croft. And he’d finally proposed. But on our wedding day, the one that got away came to crash it. “Bryan, you won! I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” I begged Bryan not to go, but he left me at the altar anyway. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED.] The next second, Bryan dropped dead in her arms. 1 Before the wedding, I had asked Bryan, half-joking, “If Lena showed up on our wedding day and asked you to leave with her, would you go?” He’d run his fingers through my hair, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, Viv. She won’t come.” It sounded less like he was reassuring me and more like he was trying to convince himself. I couldn’t let it go. “But what if she did?” A flicker of hope, so fast I almost missed it, crossed his face before he smoothed it over with that gentle tone he always used to placate me. “You silly girl. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” He knew that all it took was a little softness from him, and I would surrender. But not this time. I didn’t fall silent as he expected. “Bryan, please. I’m begging you. No matter what happens at the ceremony, can we just… finish it? Can we please just get married?” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Vivian, have you had enough? Lena is married! She is not going to crash our wedding, do you understand?” 2 I didn’t want to be this desperate, but I wanted to live. I was on a mission, you see. My first and only assignment: win over Bryan Croft and marry him. The task itself wasn’t that difficult. It never required him to love me, only that he marry me before he turned thirty. To make sure I succeeded, I was sent here when he was just five years old. Back then, Bryan wasn’t the titan of industry he would become. He was just the son of a housekeeper, living in the basement of the magnificent estate owned by Lena’s family. The System set me up with a similar identity—the daughter of another maid. And so, I grew up with him. We navigated the awkward, beautiful maze of our youth together. We’d meet at 5 a.m. to study, pushing each other, cheering each other on. We wore the same fifteen-dollar sneakers and shared dollar hot dogs from street carts. We were poor, but we were never ashamed. We were each other’s backbone. At twenty, we both got into one of the country’s most prestigious universities with top scores. The day the acceptance letters came, we stood on the athletic field as the sun melted into the horizon. The warm, golden light bathed everything around us as Bryan, his face flushed, took my hand. “Viv,” he’d whispered, “I’m so glad you exist in this world.” 3 Back then, I was glad, too. Glad that the boy I had to win over was this fearless, determined soul. But then Lena returned from her studies abroad, and everything changed. Her father donated a new wing to the university, and just like that, she was one of our classmates. She was a supernova—dazzling, wild, and free. She was the goddess in every guy’s dream. But among her legion of admirers, one was conspicuously absent: Bryan Croft, the student body president. So, from her very first day, Lena made it her mission to conquer him. If Bryan was a block of ice, Lena was a wildfire, hell-bent on melting him down. He despised her at first, seeing her as nothing more than a spoiled heiress who had never known a day of real hardship. He told her, more than once, that I was the one he cared for, that we shared a bond that could never be broken. But a princess like Lena doesn’t care about such things. Like a stubborn bull, she slowly, relentlessly plowed her way into the fields of his heart. 4 Day after day, Lena whispered poison in his ear, insisting that what we had was just friendship. “You and Vivian are just used to each other,” she’d say. “It’s the comfort of routine, not passion.” “It’s a childhood bond, Bryan. True love is about desire, about wanting.” “Holding her hand is probably like your left hand holding your right.” I tried to fight it, but our years of quiet understanding had become a placid lake, too calm to create new waves. The more we tried to prove her wrong, the more it felt like we were proving her right. Still, neither of us wanted to admit it, to break the fragile surface. Finally, Lena lost her patience. At the university’s anniversary gala, she grabbed a boy who had just confessed his feelings for her and kissed him, right there in front of everyone. That night, the volcano inside Bryan finally erupted. I saw him pin Lena against a wall in the shadows, savagely crushing his lips against hers. Lena had finally gotten what she wanted. And Bryan and I… we went back to being friends. 5 Later, Lena brought Bryan home to meet her family. It was the first time I ever saw her father, a famously composed man, lose his temper. It was also the first time I saw the shadow of shame in Bryan’s eyes. Her father’s opposition didn’t tear them apart; it only fanned the flames of their romance. He cut off Lena’s credit cards, but their love burned hotter. Within a month, all the money Bryan had saved from years of part-time jobs was gone. He even borrowed from me several times and, for the first time since high school, asked his mother for nearly three thousand dollars. This was the boy who, alongside me, had been living off scholarships since we were teenagers. Bryan’s mom called me, her voice trembling with worry, asking if he was in some kind of trouble. I had to lie, telling her he was launching a startup and needed capital. But I knew the truth. All that drama, all that money… was for a Chanel bag Lena had set her heart on. Their breakup, when it came, was ugly. Lena couldn’t understand why Bryan was so angry that she’d bought a pair of twelve-hundred-dollar heels. After all, she used to wear heels that cost nearly three thousand. Bryan clenched his jaw and said nothing. But I knew. He wasn’t breaking up with her because he’d stopped loving her. He was breaking up with her because he felt he didn’t deserve her. 6 Five years passed. The Sterling family’s empire began to show cracks, their great ship listing in treacherous waters. Meanwhile, Bryan’s startup, Horizon Tech, was becoming a rising star. Whispers started that the Sterlings were looking for a strategic marriage to save their company. Bryan, full of renewed hope, went to them, only to be slapped down by reality once more. Even a sinking ship like the Sterlings’ was still out of his league. In the end, Lena married Sterling’s youngest son. Bryan fell apart. He spent his nights lost in a drunken haze, a ghost haunting the city’s bars. I spent my days cleaning up the messes at his company and my nights dragging him home. Every time I saw him, his face flushed with alcohol, I was reminded of the boy on the athletic field, bathed in the sunset’s glow. A bitter ache filled my heart. Back then, he really was glad to have me, wasn’t he? 7 There were only two months left until Bryan’s thirtieth birthday. I’d given up all hope of completing my mission. News had just broken that Lena and the Sterling heir were on the rocks and a divorce was imminent. I’d already said my goodbyes to my mother, my bags packed for a trip around the world. And then, Bryan got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. After all those years of waiting, to finally have my wish granted… to say I wasn’t happy would be a lie. But I couldn’t tell if I was happy because I would finally get to live, or because I would finally be with him. In the days leading up to the wedding, I asked him again and again if he was sure, if he truly wanted to marry me. Each time, his answer was a firm “yes.” Only when I brought up Lena did he falter. He couldn’t even bring himself to lie. But by then, I realized I didn’t care as much as I thought. As long as the wedding happened, my mission would be complete. 8 Throughout the entire ceremony, my heart was in my throat, terrified that something would go wrong. Bryan was just as distracted, though his eyes held a flicker of anticipation, as if he were waiting for a different show to start. And then, just as we were about to exchange rings, Lena appeared. It was like watching a butcher’s cleaver, raised high for an eternity, finally fall. And strangely, a sense of relief washed over me. “Bryan, you won!” she cried, her voice echoing through the silent hall. “I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” For the sake of my own life, I made one last, desperate attempt. I clutched the sleeve of his tuxedo. “Bryan, please, don’t go. Don’t you remember what you promised me?” I was so close. So close to survival. His face was a mask of apology, but he gently pried my fingers from his sleeve and walked toward his past, toward Lena. “I’m sorry, Viv.” “The truth is… this wedding was a gamble. Lena told me a divorced woman like her didn’t deserve me. So I thought… maybe if I was divorced too, she wouldn’t feel so insecure.” “And you… you’re my best friend. I figured you were the only one who would help me with something like this.” I stared coldly at the man I had spent twenty-five years of my life beside, and I found I had nothing left to say. System, I thought, my voice flat, I’m abandoning the mission. [Are you sure?] I’m sure. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED!] What? The System’s voice screeched in my mind, but before I could process it, Bryan’s eyes went vacant, and he collapsed into Lena’s arms. 9 Lena had no idea she was holding a dead man. She wrapped her arms around him, preening like a victorious peacock. “Oh, Bryan,” she cooed, her voice triumphant. “I knew it. I knew if I came back, you’d be waiting for me.” She tilted her head to kiss him, but her dark eyes locked onto mine over his shoulder, filled with contempt and provocation. I knew she was savoring this moment. In her world, Bryan was her devoted dog, and I was his. For years, she had carried an air of effortless superiority around me. But you’re kissing a corpse now, Lena. 10 At that moment, the single table of guests—Bryan’s hand-picked friends—erupted into whistles and applause. Someone even set off a party popper. Bryan must have anticipated Lena crashing the wedding. To protect her reputation as a married woman, he had only invited his closest circle, the ones who knew every sordid detail of their affair. As for me, I was so afraid something would go wrong, so terrified my mother might see me die on my wedding day, that I hadn’t invited her. The only guest on my side was my lawyer. He was currently recording the whole “epic reunion” on his phone. My original plan was that if the mission failed and I died, he would immediately leak the story to every major news outlet. I’d even written the headlines for them. Jilted Bride Literally Dies of a Broken Heart as Groom Flees with Married Mistress. I never imagined… that Bryan would be the one to die. 11 Lena held her kiss for a long moment before she finally realized the cold, gray stillness of Bryan’s face. A primal panic seized her, and she shoved him away. With a sickening thud, Bryan’s body fell rigidly to the marble floor, the back of his head cracking against the hard surface. Blood began to pool around him, a spreading halo of crimson. The System’s voice, cool and detached, returned. [Well, now he’s definitely dead.] Just then, I saw it—a shimmering, translucent form slowly rising from his body. It was Bryan’s soul. He stared in disbelief at the corpse on the floor… and then at Lena, who was now bent over, retching in horror. 12 Chaos erupted. Someone called an ambulance. Someone else started clumsy CPR. I, still in my wedding dress, walked calmly to Bryan’s body and knelt beside it, a silent sentinel. His ghost drifted near me. Seeing my dry eyes, his face contorted with anger. “Vivian, I’m dying, and you can’t even shed a single tear?” he sneered. “So much for twenty-five years of friendship. It’s all so cheap… When I wake up, we’re done.” I acted as if I couldn’t see or hear him, my expression a blank mask. Meanwhile, after her bout of vomiting, Lena composed herself. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in perfect, glistening trails. A picture of heartbreak. Seeing her cry, Bryan’s ghostly expression softened. “Lena must be devastated,” he murmured. “How will she ever go on without me?” 13 A sharp ring cut through the air. Lena fumbled for her phone, her hand trembling as she answered. A man’s commanding voice was faintly audible. “I thought you wanted a divorce. I’m at the courthouse now…” A flash of panic crossed Lena’s pale face. She took a few steps away from the scene. Bryan’s ghost froze, instinctively reaching for her hand, only for his to pass right through. Lena lowered her voice, the tears vanishing. “Sterling, I’m sorry! I don’t want a divorce anymore… I only said that to make you angry, to make you jealous.” Hearing this, Bryan stared at the woman he had worshipped, his ghostly face a canvas of utter disbelief. How could those words come from her mouth? It couldn’t be. She must have her reasons. He desperately tried to grab her as she walked away, his form passing through hers again and again. “Lena, please, don’t go! Look back at me… I’m dying…” When he couldn’t stop her, he tried to follow, but an invisible barrier blocked his path. Bryan’s soul was tethered to me. All he could do was watch, helpless, as Lena fled the hotel. 14 The garden hotel Bryan had chosen was remote, and the ambulance took a full twenty minutes to arrive. As his body was loaded onto the gurney, his so-called friends all suddenly had “urgent business” to attend to and made their excuses. “Hey, sis-in-law,” one of them said, the man Bryan considered his best friend. “Call me if you need anything at the hospital. We’re family, after all.” I didn’t respond. He awkwardly shut the ambulance door. On the way to the hospital, Bryan’s ghost was silent. Perhaps even he was shocked by the faithlessness of the friends who had once hung on his every word. I closed my eyes and summoned the System. System, why was Bryan the one who was erased? [The name of this system is: Blame Others More, Reflect on Yourself Less.] [You worked diligently for twenty-five years and failed to win him over. Clearly, the problem was with him. So, he got erased.] I gritted my teeth. You couldn’t have told me that sooner? The System scoffed. [You never asked.] Your name really suits you. 15 At the hospital, after a flurry of activity, the doctors pronounced Bryan dead. His soul was still frantically trying to re-enter his body, crying and screaming, a whirlwind of denial, before he finally, slowly, accepted the truth. I took his body to the funeral home. I sent out notices to a few close family and friends, informing them of the funeral the next day. Once everything was arranged, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m going to visit Bryan’s mother today. Do you want to come with me?” Her voice was laced with confusion. “But it’s only the 10th. Don’t you usually visit her on the 15th of every month?” Hearing this, Bryan’s ghost flinched. “Viv… I didn’t know you visited my mom every month.” I paused. “Mom, I have to tell you something. Please, prepare yourself… Bryan is dead.” 16 My mother and Bryan’s were best friends back when they worked as maids for the Sterlings. Bryan’s mom had always doted on me, and my mom had treated Bryan like her own son. When we were little, classmates used to mock us for not having fathers. I remember smiling and telling him, “It’s okay, Bryan. We may not have dads, but we have two moms.” As we grew closer, our mothers were overjoyed. In their minds, the four of us were already a family. On the way to the nursing home, my mom couldn’t stop wiping her tears. Bryan’s soul sat in the back seat, his eyes red, lost in thought.

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