Category: English

The first time I saw my ex-wife, Eleanor Shaw, again, I was getting jumped. Roasted sweet potatoes, kicked from my cart, scattered across the pavement. The woman I remembered as being timid, one who used to tremble when she spoke, rushed into the fray, her eyes blazing, and shielded me with her body. After the crowd dispersed, she turned to me, a flicker of exasperation in her gaze. “Is this what you’ve become since you got out?” I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, at the designer clothes clinging to her slender frame, and spoke in a flat tone, “Freshly roasted sweet potatoes. Want to buy one?” She stared at the scattered potatoes, then met my eyes, her own filled with an unreadable mix of emotions. “Why didn’t you come to me? I had a plan for you, a way out!” Her voice trembled slightly. “Don’t you know I’ve been looking for you?” Finally, I met her gaze, but my eyes held only a cold indifference. “Why? So you could find me and then finish the job?” Eleanor Shaw. To me, you were nothing but trash now. 1 My words seemed to stun her. Eleanor recovered, her expression uneasy. She was about to speak again when she realized I was already pushing my cart away. She hurried to catch up, finding me crouched down, talking to a little girl. “Mister, I don’t have any money. Can I have a sweet potato for free?” I smiled, pulling the largest one from the oven and handing it to her. “Wow! Mister, your wristband is really pretty!” I instinctively glanced at the red string on my wrist. Without hesitation, I began to remove it, intending to give it to the little girl. But before I could extend my hand, a pale, slender hand clamped down on my wrist. On her wrist, too, was a red string. It looked identical to mine. Before I could even lift my head, Eleanor’s voice, trembling with emotion, came from above me. “Blake Reed, do you know what you’re doing? How can you just give this red string away? Don’t you know what it means?” The red string. It was a token of our love, from when we were together. I had meant to take it off, but I suppose when you stop loving someone, you simply forget. I casually shook off her hand and finished giving the bracelet to the little girl. The girl skipped away, but Eleanor remained rooted by my stand, her eyes fixed on me with an unsettling persistence. I didn’t know what she was doing. I didn’t care to know. “Want a sweet potato?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. As I spoke, snowflakes began to flutter down, landing on my shoulders, my hands, and—I imagined—my heart. Eleanor instinctively reached out, as if to cover my eyes, a rare hint of panic in her voice. “Don’t look! You’re afraid of snow.” I calmly stepped back, my expression as if she were a stranger. “I’m working. Don’t cause trouble, or I’ll call the police.” Something in my words seemed to pierce her. Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, her eyes clouding with pain. As I turned my cart to leave, her choked voice reached me from behind. “Blake, are you… are you still angry with me?” I opened my mouth to respond, but then a little girl suddenly ran up from nearby. Behind her was Jasper Stone. Jasper, my arch-nemesis, my half-brother. The little girl reached Eleanor, excitedly pointing at my stand. “Mommy, I want a roasted sweet potato!” “Sweetheart, Mommy will buy you one, okay?” I froze. In that moment of stunned silence, Jasper walked up to me. When he saw me, a flicker of shock crossed his face. But the next second, he simply smiled and extended his hand. “Brother, long time no see.” The Jasper of my memories was arrogant and unbridled, his every word laced with sarcasm. Looking at the man before me, now a little more composed, I gave a wry twist of my lips. Time, it seemed, really did change a lot. Jasper stepped forward, took the little girl’s hand, and smiled again. “Sweetheart, this is Daddy’s brother. Say hello to Uncle.” The little girl wrinkled her nose in distaste, backing away. “Daddy, he’s so dirty.” She looked up at Jasper. “Daddy, how can you have a brother like this?” Jasper’s lips curled into a faint smile. “He used to be the most brilliant neurosurgeon in A-City.” Eleanor, who had been silent for a while, stepped forward. She pulled a bank card from her pocket and offered it to me. “There’s ten million dollars on this card. Consider it compensation for what happened all those years ago.” Her eyes searched mine. “Come back with us. The three of us can be like we used to be.” Her face held a subtle, hopeful expectation. Under her hopeful gaze, I reached out and took the card. “Blake, it’s so good that you’ve finally come to your senses—” But before she could finish, my next action stunned her. I walked to a nearby underpass and casually handed the bank card to a shivering beggar boy. Then, I turned back to the three of them, my voice laced with impatience. “Anything else?” I asked. “If not, you can leave.” As I spoke, the portable oven in front of us suddenly tilted and began to fall in our direction. Before I could react, Eleanor sharply pushed me. In an instant, our positions swapped. I was now standing in front of the little girl. A searing pain shot through me, and my internal organs throbbed. It was just like before. Seven years ago, Eleanor had pushed me away to protect Jasper. Seven years later, Eleanor pushed me away again, this time to protect her child with Jasper. But this time, my heart was utterly calm. Eleanor no longer had the power to stir any emotion in me. Seeing me lying helplessly on the ground, Eleanor was the first to react. She hurried to my side, carefully checking on me, her eyes already crimson at the edges. I actually saw genuine distress in her expression. She instinctively began to explain. “Blake, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. Sweetheart is just a child. I just instinctively wanted to protect her. Please… please don’t be angry, okay?” I ignored her. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, called the police. She must not have expected me to do that; Eleanor froze. Jasper was the first to recover. He knelt beside me. “Brother, we’re family. How can you call the police?” He stood up. “Alright, we have things to do. We won’t bother your work.” He gave me a triumphant look, then turned and took the hands of the little girl and Eleanor, ready to leave. After a few steps, Eleanor stopped, looking back at me, her eyes unreadable. “Blake, that’s enough. I told you I’d compensate you for what happened back then. How long are you going to keep this up?” She gave a sigh. “Think it over and contact me.” I lay on the ground, watching the three of them walk away, silent. Thankfully, the oven had fallen slightly to the side, only hitting my thigh. I struggled to my feet and continued pushing my cart. As I passed a high-end restaurant, I paused. A memory flashed in my mind: the time they celebrated something for me right here. I subconsciously glanced inside, but the next second, I froze. What was it about today? Not only had I run into Eleanor, but with a casual glance, I met my mother’s eyes. Inside the restaurant sat my father, my mother, Jasper’s mother, and Eleanor and Jasper. The five of them seemed to be celebrating the little girl’s birthday. Seeing me, my mother first froze. But the next second, her eyes filled with the same disgust they had held for me back then. She waved a waiter over, pointing in my direction. Before I could fully process it, several security guards rushed out, surrounding me. “Someone asked me to tell you not to disturb her precious granddaughter’s birthday party!” With those words, the guards kicked and shoved me away. As I left, I couldn’t help but look back one last time at my mother. She was smiling, happily serving Jasper. I don’t remember how I got home. The moment I lay on my bed, fragments of the past flashed through my mind. The dream. I started having it again, a dream I had been having for seven long years. Before my father remarried, Eleanor, my mother, and I were always on the same side. Because more than anyone, I knew how much my mother hated my father, how much pain she endured. Until my father remarried, until Jasper appeared, everything changed. The first time Jasper came to our house, my mother unleashed all her anger on him. That day, when Jasper left, he was covered in bruises. Perhaps it was my profession, but I took him home and personally treated his wounds. In our conversation, I learned he was also a neurosurgeon, just like me. Later, Jasper would visit my mother every few days, and each time, he would leave with new injuries. I asked him why he was so persistent. He said he simply wanted to “pay a debt” for his mother. But I was too busy with work; sometimes I wasn’t home, and Eleanor would be the one to treat his wounds. What I didn’t realize was that, subtly, everything was changing. For instance, my mother’s attitude toward him gradually softened. For instance, my mother, who had always hated my father, began to frequently enter and leave the Reed family home with Jasper. For instance, even without wounds, Jasper would stay at our house for a long time. At the time, my focus was on studying abroad. My wife, Eleanor, had a rare genetic disease. To keep her from being afraid, only I knew about it. And that trip abroad was because I heard there was new research on the disease in Country A. After two years of studying abroad, when I returned, everything seemed to have changed. Pushing open the front door, the house full of laughter made me freeze. Walking in, I saw my mother holding a child, smiling as she spoke. “You have to admit, Jasper and Eleanor’s child is truly beautiful!” I rushed forward, tears streaming down my face. I roared for an explanation, but my mother just glanced at me with disdain. “I made a casual joke. Why are you so sensitive?” My wife, whom I hadn’t seen in two years, stepped forward and slapped me hard, her voice full of anger. “Blake Reed, are you doubting me?” In my daze, a phone call came through from the hospital. It was an emergency surgery, one only I could perform. There was no time to say more. As I hastily turned to leave, Eleanor suddenly called out to me. She walked over and handed me a bottle of milk, her eyes showing rare concern. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Drink some milk to tide you over.” In that moment, my turbulent heart seemed to calm a little. I took the milk and drank it all. The surgery lasted seven hours. For some reason, during the operation, my head ached terribly, and my vision blurred. Realizing something was wrong, I immediately requested a pause in the surgery, but it was too late. The surgery ultimately failed. Because of the failure, the patient became a vegetable. And it wasn’t until after the surgery that I learned the patient was a special individual: A-City’s wealthiest man. I was suspended, pending investigation. And before the investigation even began, my wife, Eleanor Shaw, stepped forward with evidence. She accused me of drinking before the surgery. And because I was allergic to alcohol, that’s why I had reacted that way during the surgery. My test report indeed contained alcohol. Suddenly, I became the target of public outrage, countless people attacking and cursing me. And I, with Eleanor’s instigation, was sent to prison. Because of good behavior, I was released early. The day I got out, I rushed home, wanting to ask my mother what had happened. But as I reached the doorstep, I saw my mother casually chatting with Jasper. “Blake will be out soon, won’t he? But it doesn’t matter. You’ve already taken his place.” She smiled. “You have to admit, my suggestion of mixing alcohol into the milk was a good one, wasn’t it?” I don’t remember how I left that day. But for many years afterward, I would have the same dream: my mother pouring alcohol into milk, and Eleanor handing me the milk. When I jolted awake, I realized I was covered in sweat. I picked up my phone, finding a message from my wife, Scarlett Davis. “We should be home in about two hours.” I got ready to go out and buy groceries. But at the supermarket, I ran into someone I didn’t want to see. Eleanor saw me first. She ran up and blocked my path, then, without a word, grabbed me and dragged me toward my mother. “Mother, look who it is!” My mother, who had been smiling just a second ago, instantly froze when she saw me. “Why are you here again?” I gave a wry twist of my lips and turned to leave without hesitation. But Eleanor’s hand remained firmly on my arm. She patiently explained, “Mother, no matter what, we’re family. Let’s let bygones be bygones.” She looked at my mother, her voice softening. “Let’s let Blake come home, okay?” As Eleanor spoke, my mother’s eyes reddened, and she rushed toward me. I had never seen my mother look so anxious. In that instant, my dormant heart stirred slightly. But the next second, my mother surged past me, grabbing Jasper who stood beside me. In my surprise, a knife plunged into me from behind. Blood poured out, and I watched, stunned, as my mother spoke with a look of relief. “Jasper, thank goodness… thank goodness it wasn’t you.” In that moment, my last remaining flicker of hope completely vanished. Eleanor was the first to react. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and shielded me, taking the next few knife blows for me. Before I passed out, I heard Eleanor’s trembling voice. “Blake, this is what I owe you…” When I opened my eyes again, I looked around and found myself in a hospital bed. Eleanor was in the bed next to mine. She had woken up earlier than me. She was lying on her side, silently watching me, her eyes filled with complex emotions. When our eyes met, her eyes immediately reddened. “I realized I can’t let you go,” she whispered. “The moment I saw you covered in blood, my instinct was to protect you. I’ve thought it through. You’re still the one I love.” She swallowed, her voice thick. “Blake, let’s get back together! Let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you, okay?” Just then, a knock sounded at the door. I looked at the woman and child who entered, my heart filled with tenderness, and smiled. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my wife and child.”

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I went to rescue my fiancée from a vicious assault, only to be arrested myself—for the very crime I was stopping. The public was ruthless. They spat on me, even dousing me with filth and garbage. “He thought an engagement ring was a license to do whatever he wanted? Coercion in a relationship is still rape!” “They should chemically castrate him! Save the rest of us from his filth!” The day I was sentenced, my fiancée, Olivia, was a wreck of weeping, tear-soaked lace. “Your adopted brother is barely twenty, Dean. I can’t destroy his life.” “Five years. When you get out, we’ll get married. I promise you, Dean.” Olivia kept her word. She was there the day I walked out of the prison gates. But beside her stood two men: one large, one small. 1 Before I could speak, Jude pulled Olivia behind him. “Don’t blame her, big brother. If you need someone to hate, hate me.” He watched me with the tense, feral posture of a cornered animal, terrified I’d hurt Olivia. But my expression was flat, empty. My heart had died five years earlier. That was the day I answered Olivia’s call and was met not with a greeting, but with her raw, panicked scream. “Jude! Stop! I’m your sister-in-law!” “If you come any closer, I swear, I’ll call the police!” A surge of volcanic heat exploded in my brain. I didn’t hesitate; I drove straight to the home Olivia and I shared. Her silk top was shredded. Her denim skirt bunched around her knees. Jude had her pinned by the wrists, his hands roaming, possessive and cruel. A guttural sound—a strangled sob—escaped her. The thread of reason in my mind didn’t just snap; it disintegrated. I flew at him. I hauled Jude off her, a blur of motion fueled by pure animal fury, and my fist met the side of his face. “You sick animal! Olivia is your brother’s fiancée!” “We brought you into this family, gave you everything—and this is how you repay us?” Jude, never one to back down, surged back at me. We became a tangled knot of flying fists and elbows. Olivia huddled on the edge of the bed, sobbing, unable to utter a coherent word. The police arrived then and tore us apart. We were both bloodied, bruised, and gasping, but I felt no remorse. I started toward Olivia, intending to pull her into my arms, to tell her it was over, but the moment I stepped near her, she flinched. Her entire body began to tremble. When she spoke, her voice was choked with a sickening fear. “Officer… I was just violated. By my fiancé!” I stared at Olivia, certain the five years of hell had finally broken my ability to hear. But she rushed past me, burrowing behind the policeman, and began to accuse me. I watched her cry—a devastating picture of pearlescent tears and genuine distress—but I couldn’t hear a single word. I couldn’t even recall how I ended up at the precinct. “Dean Marshall, walk us through the events of your crime!” It took that official statement to drag me back into reality. I vehemently denied it, but Olivia and Jude were synchronized. They pointed at me. They named me the rapist. I was convicted and imprisoned, my case used as a chilling example in the media. The public crucified me, calling me a monster who thought only with his lower half. “Cut the thing off! Castrate him!” The day I was transferred to the main prison, an activist, an online extremist, doused me with a bucket of filth. Olivia looked disgusted, but she still managed to step forward. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” “But Jude is so young, and he’s our family’s adopted son. If he was arrested, his whole life would be over. I can’t be the one to do that to him.” The way she spoke, with such noble, selfless conviction, pierced my heart. I ignored her and let the guards lead me away. My parents were so disappointed they didn’t even show up for my release today. Olivia’s voice pulled me from the memory. “Dean, are you still angry at me?” “I know I was wrong all those years ago. I owe you an apology.” Tears instantly filled her eyes, a sudden, heavy downfall of sorrow. I was about to speak when the small boy rushed at me, tiny fists hammering my stomach. “You’re a bad man! You made my mommy cry!” he snarled. “I hate you, and you can’t come to our house!” I looked down at the child and offered a bitter, humorless smile. The home he referred to, with that easy certainty, was mine. It always had been. I was ready to turn and walk away, but Olivia spoke again. “Come home, Dean. Mom and Dad… they miss you.” The familiar, casual way she said ‘Mom and Dad’ arrested my breath. I didn’t question her shift in address. I simply nodded. The people I owed the greatest apology to—the people I missed most—were my parents. I would see them one last time, then leave. On the drive home, the boy, Gus, kept up his low-grade assault. “You’re the meanest man! I don’t like you!” “You can’t stay with us! I’ll tell Grandpa to kick you out!” Olivia offered a tight, embarrassed smile and whispered a weak warning. “Gus, be polite!” Before she could finish, Jude’s expression darkened. He slammed the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward. Gus didn’t stop. “I just don’t like him! He makes Mommy sad!” “Daddy, tell him to leave, okay?” Jude, silent until now, finally spoke: “Don’t worry, kiddo. Daddy will get rid of him.” Olivia started to protest, then swallowed her words. She said nothing. I looked out the window, the world a gray blur, and felt that this December was somehow colder than the five years I had just spent in prison. When we arrived, I could hear the lively voices inside, even before we hit the front porch. “He’s coming home today! Hurry and get everything ready!” “Did you remember to cook his favorite—Dad’s signature barbecue brisket?” My heavy heart, for a moment, lifted. My parents did still care. Gus charged into the house first. The moment Mom saw him, her voice went up an octave in thrilled delight. “My sweet boy! Grandma missed you so much!” “Come give me a kiss! Both cheeks, now!” Gus was still pouting, immediately reporting on me to his grandmother. “Grandma, can you make him leave, please?” “I don’t like him. He makes Mommy cry!” At that, Mom quickly pulled Gus into a fierce hug. “Where is he? Tell Grandma, and I’ll throw him out!” A strange ache pulsed in my chest, a feeling of deep wrongness. But I told myself Mom wouldn’t actually do it. She walked toward the door, soothing Gus as she came. “Were those two people by the door bothering you?” She looked up at last. Our eyes met. She froze. I choked out a single word: “Mom…” Gus’s small, petulant voice cut through the silence. “Grandma, that’s him! He’s the one who hurt Mommy!” “Gus hates him. Don’t let him inside!” Mom’s face went white. She didn’t say a word. Ignoring Gus’s whining, she gently set him down and hurried toward the study. I stood dumbfounded. Olivia touched my sleeve. “Come on in, Dean.” My guts twisted. I was the outsider now. In the living room, my gaze instantly snagged on the wedding portrait hanging over the fireplace. Olivia and Jude, beaming, their smiles harsh and blinding. The family portrait next to it only contained the five of them. Jude followed my eyes and laughed. “Great photo, right, bro?” he said, wrapping an arm possessively around Olivia. “Olivia was so stubborn about using this photographer. She had to have him.” He looked at me, triumphant. I stared deeply at Olivia, but remained silent. I recognized the photographer instantly. I had recommended him to Olivia. Years ago, curled up together, I promised her that I would hire that very specific, small-time artist to shoot our wedding. She got her photographer. But the groom wasn’t me. The dinner table was cloaked in a bizarre, suffocating silence. Mom and Dad’s faces were rigid. They hadn’t spoken a word to me since I walked in. I opened my mouth, unable to find the words. I finally just reached for the platter of barbecue brisket. Gus’s sharp voice cut through the air. “No! That brisket is mine!” My hand froze in mid-air. I didn’t know what to do. Mom quickly comforted Gus. “It’s all yours, honey. This was cooked just for Gus.” My eyelids fluttered, a stinging realization: The brisket wasn’t for me. Mom muttered something under her breath. “A grown man fighting a child for a meal,” she hissed. “Five years in prison—didn’t they teach you basic decency?” I glanced at Dad. His expression was flat, unreadable, his eyes shadowed. The meal was unbearable. I managed only a few grains of rice. “I’m full. I’m going to the restroom.” Before I reached the hallway, a sharp, disciplinary voice barked my name. “Dean Marshall!” I straightened instantly, a conditioned reflex. My voice boomed out. “Sir! Present!” Jude’s laughter bounced off the walls. I realized he was just messing with me. The five years of prison routine had ingrained itself in my bones. I couldn’t help it. As Jude continued to cackle, I scrambled into the bathroom. I stayed until my legs were numb, then stumbled out. Leaning against a corner wall, I waited for the pins and needles in my legs to subside. A cautious voice drifted from the living room. “Jude, why on earth would you bring that asshole back here without telling us?” “We deliberately sent him to prison five years ago, remember?” My body went rigid. I froze, listening. The whole family knew? Dad sighed before I could process the thought. “That idiot is inferior to you in every way. He had no right to be with Olivia.” “If we had known you’d turn out so successful, we would never have had him at all!” “Thank God you and Olivia are in love. She was perfect for helping us fool that idiot.” “I told you we should have paid someone to make sure he died in there! You wouldn’t listen!” I stumbled, catching myself on the door frame. I almost went down. Because Jude was more capable than me, they had decided to discard their own son. But all of Jude’s so-called achievements—I had handed them to him. When he cried about the robotics competition as a kid, I’d built the robot for him. He won the championship. In college, I was the one who tutored him relentlessly. That’s how he achieved his success. Yet, in my parents’ eyes, Jude was the brilliant one, and I was the waste. My heart was thoroughly dead now. I didn’t need to hear another word. I turned and headed for my old bedroom. I didn’t expect Olivia to be waiting there. The moment she saw me, she looked genuinely flustered. I took two steps back, putting distance between us. She looked wounded by my movement. I ignored it and spoke in a cold, level tone. “Ms. Marshall, did you mistake the room? This is my bedroom.” Olivia’s expression was complex. “Dean, do you have to be so hostile?” “What happened was complicated. Could you really stand by and watch Jude’s brilliant future collapse?” I lost control then. My eyes burned red with fury. “And mine? Was that just supposed to be collateral damage?” The words were out before I could stop them. I instantly regretted the outburst. How could I be so naïve, so weak, to argue with her after hearing the full, sickening truth? I scoffed at my own foolishness and turned my back to her. “Just leave. I’ll pretend you were never here.” I didn’t love her anymore. Olivia panicked, rushing to explain. “Dean, don’t overthink this! I still have feelings for you…” I cut her off with a shout. “Are you going to divorce Jude, then? Are you going to raise the child of a rapist?” Olivia looked truly hurt. She inhaled deeply, as if gathering all her courage. “I wanted to terminate the pregnancy,” she whispered. “But the doctors said my body couldn’t handle the stress. I had no other choice.” Olivia stood there, a picture of tearful, fragile vulnerability. If I hadn’t overheard my parents, I would have believed her. Now, I didn’t believe a single word. Perhaps sensing my utter disinterest, she tried one last time. “Dean, you’re tired. You just got out today. Please get some rest tonight.” With a lingering look, she left. I stared at the closed door, feeling like the biggest fool on earth. This house held nothing for me anymore. I reached for the small wooden box hidden deep in my drawer. I needed the heirloom prayer beads my grandfather had left me. That was the only reason I had come back. But no matter how I searched, the beads weren’t there. A ghostly voice startled me from behind. “Are you looking for this?” I jerked my head up. Jude stood there, casually playing with the beaded bracelet. I lunged for it, but Jude sidestepped, and I slammed against the wall. Rage boiled in my veins. I snarled, “Give it back!” Jude clicked his tongue, a sound of mock concern, and then held out the beads. Surprised by his sudden compliance, I reached out. He violently smashed the beads to the ground. They shattered into a hundred fragments of jade. I stared down at the scattered pieces, beyond the point of reason. I raised my fist and lunged. But Jude was ready. He grabbed my wrist, wrestled me to the floor, and began to savagely beat me. “Did you think I was the same kid you used to pummel five years ago?” he spat. He pinned me down, making sure I couldn’t move an inch. I looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, manic. “Olivia came here to see you earlier. Did you think she still loved you?” “She’s just afraid of losing her little puppy, her perfect, pathetic martyr.” Then Jude smiled, a slow, malicious curve of the mouth. “You’ve been locked up for five years, haven’t you? I bet you’re desperate for a woman.” I knew, instantly, what he was planning. I struggled, a desperate animal, but it was useless. He zip-tied my hands, taped my mouth, and crammed me into the large linen cabinet in Dad’s study. Through the crack in the door, I saw Olivia walk in. She asked, nervously, “Is this okay? Here?” Jude nodded. “Perfect. Mom and Dad are asleep.” He pulled her jacket off. She was wearing a tiny, sensual black lace set underneath. Jude met my gaze through the crack, his eyes mocking me, then lifted Olivia onto the massive mahogany desk. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to block out the sickening spectacle. But the sounds—the intimate, careless sounds—and the sudden, acrid scent of cheap cologne and desperate sex were impossible to shut out. Finally, they were done. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that Jude let me out of the cabinet. “Pathetic coward. You deserve to be unloved.” I didn’t acknowledge him. I dragged my numb legs out of the study. I had intended to say a proper goodbye to my parents. There was no need now.

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After becoming the male lead’s “white moonlight” (the one who got away), I abandoned him and returned to the real world. The System erased all traces of my existence. It deleted every memory of me from his mind. Years later, the System summoned me back. My mission: to win back the man I had ruthlessly dumped. But he had already started a new life in that world. And he had someone new by his side. The bullet screen (live comments) flooded my vision: [Ugh, another challenger. So annoying.] [The male lead is happy with Bella now. Challengers, stop bothering them!] [Don’t worry, she won’t survive the first plot point.] [Exactly. The starting scenario is the Colosseum, and the male lead only has eyes for Bella. He’s never even looked at a challenger.] 1 While the comments scrolled frantically, my gaze cut through the crowd and landed on Grayson Guo. Years had passed, but his features hadn’t changed much. Refined, deep-set brows, a straight nose. Objectively, a very handsome face. Beside him stood a girl with a lovely face. She said something with a smile. He tilted his head, listening intently. Occasionally nodding in agreement. They looked like a match made in heaven. The comments thought so too. The System’s dissatisfied voice rang in my ear: “That’s the supporting female character, Bella Zhang. Grayson has been close to her these years. Because of her, he didn’t end up with the original female lead as the plot intended…” I interrupted: “System, you didn’t tell me he already had someone.” The System was indifferent: “Does it make a difference?” “You would have taken the mission anyway. Otherwise, you die.” My heart sank bit by bit. Not long ago, I was hit by a car and ended up in a vegetative state, which led to me binding with the System. The System promised to restore my health. The condition was that I had to return to that world as the female lead, play out the plot, and stop the world from collapsing. Thinking of this, I said: “You sent countless challengers before me, and they all failed. Why do you think I’ll succeed?” The System said meaningfully: “You’re different. After all, Grayson loved you so much.” “Loved you enough to die for you.” Hearing this, I sneered: “So what?” “I threw him away. He forgot me.” “We are nothing now.” The System’s tone was firm: “Incorrect.” “Host, if you could make Grayson fall in love with you once…” “You can make him fall in love with you a second time.” After a pause, it added: “White Moonlight vs. The New Girl. I bet on the White Moonlight.” The System kept rambling. It seemed convinced. Even if forgotten. Even with a new identity. I, the White Moonlight, still had the power to make him love me again. But… I planned to slack off on this mission. I had already hurt him once as Lily. Now that he had someone he wanted to be with… I shouldn’t disturb him anymore. 2 A huge force shoved me from behind. I fell to the ground. Getting up, I looked around. The space was vast, roughly the size of three soccer fields. The people who fell with me looked either numb or terrified. Through the spamming comments, I understood. This was the Colosseum. This novel was set in a cyberpunk world. High technology, corporations controlling the lifeline of the economy. The lives of the underclass were like ants to the powerful, toys to be played with. I had transmigrated directly to the beginning of the story. The female lead, Wendy, had offended some perverted young master and was sent to the Colosseum. As my thoughts raced, several cages slowly rose. Revealing the monsters inside. Cerberus hounds. The comments started betting on how many minutes I’d last. They were convinced I couldn’t survive. [The original female lead died here because the male lead didn’t save her. The plot collapsed, so the System sent challengers to fix it.] [Challengers are just ordinary people, even worse than the female lead. Who could survive this?] [That woman might have survived. After all, she survived the Seven-Day Judgment back then.] [Who’s that woman?] [It happened a long time ago. A bug pulled an outsider into this world. She was capable, survived, and even hooked up with the male lead.] [What? Really? Then what about Bella?] [After she left, all traces of her were wiped. The male lead forgot her long ago. So don’t worry, she can’t affect his relationship with Bella.] The comments soon went back to chatting and laughing. But my thoughts drifted with their words. Because “that woman” they were talking about… was me. 3 Grayson and I were worlds apart, yet we had a history. It all started the summer after high school graduation. I missed a step and fell into a pit. Didn’t die. But I fell into another world. Since I transmigrated bodily, I naturally became an undocumented resident. Luckily, I landed in the slums. Plenty of undocumented people there. One more didn’t matter. After struggling to survive for a while, I found a man. He was lying by the road, covered in wounds, half-dead. This opening… Too cliché. But I was alone in this hellhole. What was there to fear? Worst case scenario, I die. Haha. But this mystery box turned out pretty good. After cleaning his wounds and wiping him down, I discovered… He was really, really handsome. I’d never seen anyone so good-looking. But when he woke up, his eyes were full of suspicion: “What do you want?” I answered honestly: “I didn’t save you for free. Can you keep watch at night for me?” It was a weird request. Confusion flashed in his eyes. But in the slums, conflicts erupted daily. Even though I set traps around the house, I didn’t dare sleep soundly. I was afraid I’d become a corpse in my sleep and never wake up. I opened my mouth and explained: “I haven’t had a good sleep in a long time.” “Sleepy.” I didn’t want to show weakness, but a hint of grievance slipped into my voice. It had been so hard, so tiring. He stared at me for a long time before finally saying: “Okay.” At first, I just wanted someone to keep watch so I could sleep. But Grayson’s “Okay” meant more than just keeping watch. Until I left that world, he guarded me. He taught me how to beat up creeps, how to survive. I grew quickly, and with him watching my back, I lived recklessly for a while. But I underestimated the darkness of that world. Unluckily, we encountered the triennial Seven-Day Judgment. The higher-ups locked down the entire slum and released genetically modified monsters. The whole area was under surveillance. They watched us struggle on screens, laughing. This hell lasted seven days. The survivors earned the right to enter the Upper City. This was the Seven-Day Judgment. For the first six days, Grayson and I held on. But on the last day, a monster bit my leg. The wound was deep, bone visible. I couldn’t walk. I cried and told him: “Forget it.” Leave me. Grayson was covered in wounds too, but he shook his head, eyes red: “Lily, I will get you out.” In the end, we made it out alive. He nearly died protecting me. Back then, he really loved me. But when I abandoned him in the end, I didn’t hesitate. A classic case of burning the bridge after crossing it. 4 [The Cerberus hounds are out. Why isn’t this challenger moving? Did she give up?] [So weak. Not even gonna struggle?] [Knowing there’s no chance of survival, giving up is normal. Just boring.] [I switched views long ago. The sweet moments between the male lead and Bella are way more interesting.] The comments scrolled past my eyes. They weren’t wrong. I was slacking off. Until— A piercing scream exploded in my ear. I turned and saw a Cerberus pouncing on a little girl. I closed my eyes. Finally, I picked up the knife by my side. Just as the Cerberus was about to bite the girl, I jammed the knife into its mouth. I left the shaken girl with one sentence: “You go first.” The next instant, I pulled out the knife. Fast, precise, stabbing into the Cerberus’s heart. The movement was practiced, as if done a thousand times. In the Seven-Day Judgment, Cerberus hounds were just appetizers. I glanced at its corpse, thinking helplessly… Whatever. I can die anytime. Might as well kill a few more hounds and save a few more people while I’m here. The comments exploded: [Holy crap, this challenger is kinda fierce.] [But if she just hid, she might have had a chance. She shouldn’t have tried to save people.] [Yeah, the nail that sticks out gets hammered. Those perverts love watching ants try to be heroes and getting crushed.] [She’s gonna die, and it’s gonna be uglier than any other challenger.] I was being targeted. From a third-party perspective, it must have been a horrifying scene. Several Cerberus hounds were surrounding a young girl. I struggled to cope. Soon, my body was full of bloody holes. The System was screaming in my ear. Curse me for complicating things, adding difficulty to the plot. The comments started celebrating early. After all, if I died, I wouldn’t affect Grayson and Bella’s relationship. This was what they wanted to see. While the comments spammed frantically… The last Cerberus on the field died. I was at my limit. Blood loss caused waves of dizziness. The comments were shocked. This was unexpected. The audience in the stands was dissatisfied. They wanted to see me die. I wiped the blood off my face and laughed: “Sorry to disappoint you.” The comments were silent for a moment before scrolling again: [Is she provoking them? Those perverts won’t let her go.] [Only the male lead can save her now. But he’s with Bella, he won’t care about her.] [Wait, when did the male lead get here?] [I thought I was seeing things, but that really looks like him!] [Why is he here?]

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Dad’s secret family of eight years was finally discovered by Mom. She vowed to cut ties with him, even if it meant leaving with nothing. This time, I stopped her. Because I was reborn. Dad has a terminal illness and is about to die. As long as we outlast him, all his assets will belong to Mom and me. 1 “Joy, if Daddy and Mommy separate, do you want to live with Mommy?” When Mom asked me this question again, I finally didn’t hesitate. I told her firmly, “Mom, don’t divorce him.” Mom’s eyes reddened. “Do you know that your father’s illegitimate child is only six months younger than you? How can I swallow this? If we divorce, out of sight, out of mind. Come with Mommy, okay? Mommy only has you.” “Mom, no!” “Why?” she asked. Because I was reborn. In my last life, when Mom and Dad divorced, to fight for my custody, Mom left the marriage with nothing, giving up all the property. The house, money, and company that Mom and Dad built from scratch all fell into the hands of that mother and son. Two months after the divorce, Dad died of terminal stomach cancer. He let Mom know about their existence only because he was dying. He wanted to pave the way for his illegitimate son but couldn’t bear to let Mom take half the assets. He insisted on my custody, and Mom, to take me with her, had to give up the wealth they had built together for years. The moment he got the divorce certificate, he married the mistress. After his death, the mistress and her son legally inherited all his assets. As for Mom and me, the mistress drove us to extinction. Mom’s attempts at starting a business or finding a job were all ruined by them. Even when she set up a street stall, they hired thugs to target her. To raise me, Mom had to work as a hostess, eventually falling into the sex trade. The mistress tortured Mom for ten years. Finally, on my 18th birthday, Mom jumped from a 21-story building. After Mom died, the mistress didn’t let me go. She paid people to bully me at school, twisting the truth to say I was the illegitimate daughter and Mom was the homewrecker. Orphaned and isolated, I was hit by a speeding truck on a dazed night and died. The capital used to besiege Mom and me came from the assets the mistress inherited from Dad. In this life, I will protect Mom and not let that scum succeed. 2 “Mom, do you believe in dreams?” I recounted everything that happened in my past life to Mom. Mom murmured to herself, “I wouldn’t objectify myself to do such lowly things, nor would I leave you behind.” I know, but when backed into a corner, who can guarantee they won’t grab the only straw available, even if it’s covered in filth? Disheartened by Dad’s betrayal, Mom had neglected the company. Dad took advantage of this time to feign trying to keep Mom, making her think he still had feelings for her. Meanwhile, he consolidated control over the company while Mom was distracted. Mom was skeptical, but her love for me was bone-deep. Even if it was just a dream, she would verify it. Mom went back to the company. In the evening, she and Dad came back together. Dad’s face was tense and ugly. I approached him, “Dad, are you a dirty cucumber?” Dad was so angry his chest heaved, unable to catch his breath. “Netizens say a cheating man is like a dirty cucumber; you can’t use it no matter how much you like it.” Mom covered my mouth, “Stop surfing the web so much, don’t talk nonsense and learn those dirty things.” I nodded quickly. Mom let go, and I asked again, “Mom, Dad, will you still get a divorce?” Mom smiled, “Of course not. Mommy has forgiven Daddy. Our family of three will be fine.” Dad’s face turned green and purple. He scolded me a bit and went to his room without dinner. Mom’s phone pinged. She went to shower, and I expertly unlocked her phone. The mistress, Wanda, came to provoke Mom. She sent Mom photos of her and Dad being intimate. Her words goaded Mom to divorce Dad quickly. She called Mom a hen that couldn’t lay eggs, mocking Mom for not being as open as her and not pleasing Dad. She claimed she and Dad were true love, and if Grandpa hadn’t forced Dad to marry Mom, they would be the rightful family. I replied for Mom, “I don’t believe it. Your photos are photoshopped, right? I remember Old Yuan has a big mole on his left buttock, but your photos don’t show it.” Wanda actually sent a spicy video. To provoke Mom, it was a 360-degree HD video. The big mole on Dad’s left buttock was very clear. Disgusting. Fighting the urge to vomit, I downloaded the original photos and video, sent them to my account, and deleted the chat history. After dinner, I opened my laptop, imported the video and photos. I applied heavy mosaics to Dad and Wanda’s private parts and posted them on my Moments (social media feed). Caption: “Auntie says her technique is good, and Mom isn’t as open as her. Now Dad dislikes Mom and wants a divorce. What should I do? Joy doesn’t want to be a child without a father (Crying Emoji).” I’m not even nine yet. Posting this kind of stuff shouldn’t land me in juvie, right? 3 Dad played the emotional card with Mom, while Wanda provoked Mom to divorce quickly. Nice calculation. I knew Dad would be angry, but I didn’t expect him to be this furious. He slapped me so hard two of my teeth flew out. God, it hurt so much. But compared to the excruciating pain of being crushed by a truck, this slap was a drizzle. Mom pounced on him, scratching his face into a bloody mess. He ordered me to delete the video, and I obediently did. But deleting it was useless. After a night, who knows how many people saved their video? My Moments friends include several aunties who are always surfing the forefront of gossip. I believe their combat power won’t disappoint Dad. Dad scolded Mom, “Look at the good daughter you raised!” He slammed the door and left. My mouth was full of blood. Mom cried and wanted to take me to the hospital. I refused. “Mom, when in trouble, find the police uncle.” Mom felt sorry for me and wanted to take me to the hospital first, but I dragged her to the police station. Holding a mouthful of bloody water all the way, I finally spat it out inside the station. With blood in my mouth, I tremblingly extended my hand to a pretty police auntie, holding my two teeth. “Auntie, Joy wants to report a crime…” Dad had smooth sailing for so many years; this must be his first time in a police station. And for beating his own daughter. Successful and spirited as he was these years, he had never lost face like this. His face turned green and purple, changing colors. I lost two teeth, and my face was swollen like a soaked bun. The police auntie said my injuries warranted administrative detention. If Mom and I insisted, Dad could be detained for five days or fined. Locking Dad up was exactly what I wanted. It bought Mom five more days. Dad brought up my posting his private video. I quickly pulled out my kid’s phone, opened the video of Wanda and Dad, turned the brightness to max, and showed the uncles and aunties present. “This is the video Dad talked about. The auntie said Dad likes her technique, she gave birth to a son for Dad, and told Mom to divorce Dad quickly. Although Dad is a rotten cabbage, Joy doesn’t want Dad and Mom to divorce. Joy doesn’t want to be without a father. Joy just wanted to ask the family on Moments for advice…” Speaking of the sad part, my tears flowed like two rushing rivers, washing over my swollen cheeks. If there were a crack in the floor, I believe Dad would have buried his head in it immediately. After an awkward silence, the police uncles and aunties kindly explained that posting such dirty things on Moments is illegal. But because I was young and ignorant, and deleted it in time, they just gave me a verbal warning. Now everyone knew about Dad’s betrayal and despised him even more. Because Mom and I insisted, with the facts laid out, Dad had to sing the iron bars blues for five days. 4 Trading two teeth for five days of time for Mom felt worth it. Now wasn’t the time to pity me. After seeing the doctor, I persuaded Mom to go to the company. And told her that several key positions in the company were held by Wanda’s relatives. Mom didn’t dare delay. She asked a friend to find two strong female bodyguards to take care of me, then rushed to the company to handle things. Dad could be considered what the internet calls a “Phoenix Man”—rising from a poor background. He only had a widowed mother who worked hard to support his education. Mom’s family wasn’t particularly well-off either, but Grandpa’s work unit had allocated him an apartment. The apartment was in the city center, a decent location. After Mom and Dad graduated and married, Grandpa sold the apartment to give them capital. With this money, they grew a small mom-and-pop workshop into a factory now worth nearly a billion. Although Mom is very smart and handles company matters with ease and organization, she values relationships heavily. In my past life, Dad used himself and me to play the emotional card, coaxing her into leaving with nothing. Mom thought she could start over. But the world changes fast. With me as a burden and Wanda chasing her down, let alone starting a business, even feeding us was hard. Children always seem to be the weakness of most mothers. If not for me, how could Mom willingly give up the fruits of her years of hard work? I don’t want to repeat the tragedy of my past life. In this life, it’s my turn to protect Mom!

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My sophomore year of college, my grandfather called out of the blue. He wasn’t asking how I was—he was commanding me home to discuss his will. Honestly, the thought that I was even in the running for a piece of Arthur Kincaid’s estate had never once crossed my mind. My mother, Laurel, died when I was little, and my contact with her family was virtually non-existent; we exchanged a two-minute, obligatory phone call on Christmas Day, then hung up like strangers. I took an academic leave, enduring a grueling seven-hour train ride to Hickory Creek. A sea of relatives I didn’t recognize were already packed into the old Kincaid compound. When I walked in, Art looked mildly surprised. “You actually came?” “You told me to,” I said. “You said I had to be here today.” He pulled the woman next to him, who was wearing a crisp, expensive-looking linen dress, closer. “This is Avery Wells. Laurel’s girl.” He then addressed me. “This is your grandmother.” 1 I’d heard years ago that my grandfather had remarried, taking on a woman named Lilly Shaw. My father had considered bringing me down to meet her at the time, but when he called, Art said the wedding was done and dusted, no need to make the trip. My father had hung up and scoffed, “Didn’t even invite us. I guess we’re not family.” After that, my dad rarely mentioned Art. He made me the one to call on holidays. When I told him Art had summoned me home for the will, he only said, “Be careful on the road.” Lilly Shaw sized me up, her gaze lingering a little too long. “Came by train, I see? Did you remember to book your return ticket?” I was genuinely taken aback. What kind of relative, meeting a family member for the first time, asks about the way out? “Not yet,” I said. “Tickets are easy. Plenty of trains heading back to the city.” Lilly pointed to the corner. “Well, you can rest over there, then.” The Kincaid compound was huge—a sprawling, multi-structure home built on ancestral land, with front and back yards and a central Great Hall. I sat on a rough wooden bench in the front yard corner, watching the constant stream of people flowing past, none of whom felt remotely connected to me. As twilight settled, the front yard emptied, and a chill set in. The heavy oak door to the Great Hall was closed. After a long wait, I finally heard the noise of a celebration—shouting, laughter, and the clatter of silverware. I walked up and peered through the crack in the door. They were feasting. A huge table packed with people. Art and Lilly sat at the head, facing the door, their faces flushed with the pleasure of good food and company. It was a proper country feast, the wine flowing freely. I had been traveling all day and hadn’t eaten a thing, yet no one had bothered to call me inside for dinner. I pushed the heavy oak door open. “If there’s nothing else, Grandpa, I’ll head back to school.” Art’s wine glass froze mid-air. He looked genuinely embarrassed. Lilly Shaw, however, was the quickest to react, sliding over with a saccharine smile. “Oh, you silly goose, why didn’t you just come in? You can’t wait for an invitation! Arthur’s been so scatterbrained lately, he’s forgotten he needs my permission just to sit down. Have a seat, darling, and eat up.” She pulled out a chair for me. I picked up my chopsticks, ready to dig in, when Art slammed his palm on the table. “Stop! Did you even greet everyone? You just sit there like a bump on a log?” Except for Art, I didn’t know a single person at that table. “You never bother with us, and when we call you all the way back here, you act like a mute,” he shouted, pointing his chopsticks at me, as if my presence were some grievous offense. “No manners. Just like your mother.” I dropped my chopsticks. Hard. I stared straight at him. “Like whose mother?” The feasting stopped. The room went dead silent. No one gets to talk about my mother. That was my rock-bottom boundary. And of all people, Art Kincaid knew exactly why my mother died. I was hungry, but I wouldn’t eat this food. I grabbed my backpack and walked toward the door. “You stand right there!” Art roared. “You think you can just show up and walk out? You’re here to disrespect your elders? Apologize to your grandmother!” I turned back, speaking each word with cold precision. “I am not here by choice. You called me. If my presence is such an issue, why did you even bother? You said you had an estate to settle, Arthur. But you look healthy as a horse. Why did you really call me?” Unable to argue with me, he turned to the room. “Look at this! See what kind of daughter she raised!” “I’m going back to school. Consider this visit erased. You can divide the estate however you please.” I turned and walked out, fuming. I was exhausted, agitated, and I still had no idea what the purpose of my long, insulting journey had been. At the main gate, Lilly called out. “Avery, wait a minute.” She rushed up and grabbed my arm. “It’s dark. Where are you going to go? Come on, eat something, stay the night, and leave tomorrow. Your grandfather really did call you here for a reason. Don’t antagonize him. Come with me, let me introduce you properly.” Lilly was surprisingly strong; she pulled me back to the Great Hall. I had no choice but to follow. “These are the Kincaids,” she gestured, “your grandfather’s sons, their sons, and his brothers’ children. You’ll call them Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin.” She moved her hand. “And over here, the Shaws. My side. We’re all family now. You can just call them all Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin.” Before she finished, one of the Shaw men laughed. “So you’re Laurel Kincaid’s girl? Your mother was famous, you know. Gossip about her spread from Hickory Creek all the way to Shaw Settlement.” The man next to him snickered. “I heard your father cried himself to sleep every night.” Lilly shot them a hard look, then pushed me onto a chair and sat next to Art. “Before everyone gets too drunk, Arthur, tell them why they’re here.” Art nodded, placing his wine glass down. “Everyone quiet down. I’ve called you all here today to settle my affairs and Lilly’s, mainly to divide up the estate. We’ll have peace of mind, and you’ll stop worrying about it.” The table instantly became quiet and deferential, like students waiting for a lecture. “Lilly and I have sorted through everything: the land, the liquid assets, the business, the vehicles, and some smaller personal items. The business is primarily Lilly’s. I never understood it, and I wouldn’t dare touch her assets, but Lilly said that since we’re married, we’re family, and there’s no my or yours. It’s all Kincaid-Shaw, one big, happy family.” Everyone applauded enthusiastically. I felt like the alien in the room. “Lilly and I have decided on the following…” Art began to announce the division. “This house will go to the oldest boy, Art Jr., in exchange for him taking care of us until we pass. The new home down by the creek goes to the second boy, Ben. The condo we bought in the county seat goes to the third, Chad. “Lilly’s business, Hickory Creek Clean-Plate Supplies, has always been run by her oldest boy, Robert. Lilly has already given him twenty percent of the shares and will transfer another thirty-one percent, giving him fifty-one percent control. The remaining forty-nine percent will be family shares, held by her two other children, and nine percent managed by Art Jr. “Lilly’s ancestral home, where her youngest boy is currently living, will be his to either live in or sell. “Lilly’s daughter, who is married and lives out of state, received a house and a car as a dowry when she married, so she will not receive any more property. “Our liquid assets and all other property will be used for our retirement. Any remaining balance will be split equally among the six children. Does anyone object?” The entire table shouted, “No objections, thank you, Dad! Thank you, Mom!” Art chuckled happily. “Good. Now eat.” So, that was it. I was never a factor. The entire point was for Art to put on a show of his immense wealth and the generosity of his new wife, while explicitly leaving out his own flesh-and-blood granddaughter. I felt nothing but a wave of relief. I had never wanted his money, and having to deal with it would have been a hassle. I grabbed my chopsticks and attacked the nearest platter of fried chicken and ribs. I had been humiliated for the better part of a day, and I wasn’t going to leave without at least recouping a decent meal. I caught several people watching me out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for my reaction. After tearing through a mountain of food, someone finally broke. “Avery,” Lilly asked with faux sweetness. “You don’t feel… slighted? You don’t mind that you received nothing?” Art banged the table again. “Stop eating! Your grandmother asked you a question!” I swallowed the piece of chicken I was chewing. “No, I don’t mind. It’s your money; divide it up however you want. I have no opinion.” “Don’t act so high and mighty,” I heard Lilly’s daughter whisper from across the table, rolling her eyes. Art was clearly unhappy with my lack of outrage. He needed me to play the part of the resentful, abandoned granddaughter. “You say you don’t mind, but you came running the minute I mentioned the will! You can’t even be bothered to call on Christmas, but you show up like a lapdog when money’s involved. You’re being dishonest!” I didn’t look up from my plate. “You said you were dividing the will. I thought you were dying.” Robert Shaw, Lilly’s oldest son, slammed his chopsticks down. He pointed at me. “Watch your mouth, you crass little animal! Who’s dying?” I didn’t know this man, so I didn’t waste any energy getting mad. I just looked at Art, then back at Robert. “He’s your step-father, not mine. If I’m an ‘animal,’ what does that make your mother’s husband?” “You little…” “Enough!” Lilly cut him off, her veneer of graceful, virtuous wife starting to crack. “Avery, it’s not that Arthur and I don’t want to give you anything. But you are a Wells, not a Kincaid, and not a Shaw. You’re an outsider. It wouldn’t look right, dividing Kincaid and Shaw assets with an outside name. People would talk.” “I already told you, you can divide your assets however you want. I truly don’t care,” I repeated. “But I’m confused. If this has nothing to do with me, why call me here in the first place?” “We invited you for two reasons. One, your grandfather and I missed you. Two, we wanted you to witness it. You’re a college student, studying in the city; you’re going to be successful. We want you to see that everything is settled.” I finally understood. Lilly Shaw was worried that a successful college-educated granddaughter might one day return to claim what was hers. This whole dinner was a calculated theater performance designed to have me witness my exclusion and hopefully, watch me throw a pathetic, futile fit. They were sorely disappointed. Based on the terms I heard, the total assets were worth a couple of million. No wonder everyone’s spine was so straight. “I’m full. Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, enjoy your meal.” I put down the bowl, grabbed my backpack, and walked out. “Where are you going? It’s dark! We need you for something tomorrow…” Lilly called out, but this time she didn’t follow. I gave a dismissive wave as a goodbye. It was dark. Dark in the country isn’t the same as dark in the city. In the city, there are always lights. In the country, when the sun goes down, it’s truly black. Working from a memory many years old, I stumbled around the village a few times until I found a wooden gate that looked familiar. “Open up! J-Rod! Open the door!” A figure stumbled out, fumbling with the latch, and stared at me in the dim yard light. “You’re… who is that?” I kicked the gate. “Don’t you recognize your Aunt Avery?” He pulled the porch light closer to my face. “Avery Wells? How did you find me?” “I remember you used to have a pickup, right? I need a ride to the county seat.” “Right now?” “Is there a problem? I’ll pay for gas.” Jesse “J-Rod” Rhodes looked back toward his house, then turned back to me. “The pickup’s long gone. I’ve got a beat-up old Chevy now. What’s the rush?” “Just tell me if you’ll take me. If not, I’ll find someone else.” As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm. “Yes! I’ll take you! Wait, let me get my keys.” I hopped in the passenger seat, and J-Rod pulled the car onto the road leading out of the village. “How long has it been?” I asked. “Thirteen years. Man.” “Thirteen years. We were just kids then.” Thirteen years ago, the summer I was seven, my mother brought me here to live for a short time. Because I was the “city kid,” the other village children wouldn’t play with me. Only J-Rod followed me around every day. That summer, he took me climbing trees and wading in the creek—the perfect, authentic country childhood. Afterward, I sent him gifts every year, and he always referred to me as “Aunt Avery” in his letters. “Thirteen years, and you still found my place. You’re amazing.” “What about you? Got a girlfriend?” “Yeah, my folks set it up. We’ve been talking for six months. Planning to get married next year.” “Congrats. You’re efficient.” J-Rod got a little shy. “Don’t laugh. We don’t do all the city romance stuff out here. You meet, you see if you can get along, and that’s that. She’s from another village. We don’t see each other much; she calls, we talk for a minute, and then she has to get back to work.” The ride took almost an hour, and we talked the whole time, from childhood memories to adult life. J-Rod let slip a lot of local gossip, including the fact that Art’s sprawling house had encroached on several of his neighbors’ properties. I found a motel in the county seat, slept, and took the morning train back to school. That pointless, exhausting estate meeting wasted two days of my life. I recounted the entire saga to my father. He listened and then, without hesitation, said, “They just wanted you to waive your right to the money so you wouldn’t stick around and hassle them later.” It was absurd. Two days after I got back to school, Art called again. “You left without saying goodbye! That was so disrespectful. You didn’t sign the papers. You need to come back immediately and sign.” “Sign what?” I asked. “The Estate Distribution Agreement.” “I wasn’t included in the estate. Why would I sign?” “You weren’t included because you’re a Wells, not a Kincaid or a Shaw. That’s not our fault. But you are my granddaughter, and you still have to sign. Waiving your claim is part of the distribution, and it’s your responsibility.” I struggled to keep my voice even. “Grandpa, if you’re worried, hire a lawyer in the county seat to draft a certified will. Or get a notary. It’s your money; give it to whomever you want. It has nothing to do with me. I will not come back, now or in the future, for your money or Lilly’s. I have too many classes. I can’t sign.” “Why are you being so difficult? It’s just a signature! If you don’t come back and sign this, don’t ever come back to Hickory Creek!” “I’m late for class. Gotta go.” I hung up, irritated. The more I thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed. Even if Art was senile, he had three able-bodied sons, and the village had a mayor. Why were they so fixated on my signature waiving my claim? Unless there was something that already belonged to me, something Art had been holding onto, and he didn’t want to include it in the will because it wasn’t his to give away. It hit me like a train. I stood up and shouted, “Exactly!” The whole class stared at me. My academic advisor, standing at the front, looked confused. “Avery Wells, do you have an objection to the material?” Mortified, I stammered, “No, Professor. I just… I think you’re absolutely right.” “Oh, good. Since you’re so enthusiastic, I’ll have you write the piece for the university literary magazine.” I slumped back down, my mind racing. That document Art wanted me to sign—it had to contain the clue. But I had already rejected him. I couldn’t just turn around and agree to sign. The bell rang. The class president, an earnest guy named Sam, walked up. “Avery, what are you going to write for the lit mag?” I blurted out, “A will.” Sam’s face went pale. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, don’t think about doing anything stupid, okay? If you’re under pressure, I’m here. That lit mag thing is just a formality, you just need to meet the word count.” “The will is the trick,” I muttered. “They’re going to contact me again. I know it.” The words were barely out of my mouth when my phone rang. Unknown number. “Hello, is this Avery? It’s your Granny Lilly.” I was almost delighted. They did call. “Avery, darling, Granny Lilly wants to apologize. We didn’t take care of you when you came home. It was all my fault. I knew you were a smart college girl, and I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing that I let Art handle you, and he, well, he gets a little drunk and forgets things. Please don’t be angry.” Slight praise followed by an apology. She definitely wanted something. “It’s fine, Granny Lilly,” I replied. “It was a busy house. I’m rarely there, so it’s normal for the relatives not to know me. I’m back in class now. Is there something you needed?” “Such a smart, polite girl. Just like a college student should be.” Lilly chuckled. “Well, your grandfather and I actually put together a big cash bonus for you—one for getting into college, and one to help you out while you’re there. I was waiting for you, but you left so fast! I was going to take you out for a nice dinner at the country bistro. When are you coming back?” “Granny Lilly, I have too many classes. If I take time off, I lose credits. Maybe when the semester ends.” “Okay… your education is what’s important. That’s what matters.” She paused. “Well, then I’ll just mail you the agreement, and you can sign it and mail it back. Honestly, your signature doesn’t change anything. I don’t know what’s gotten into Art lately, he’s just obsessed with signatures and fingerprints. He even makes me sign a contract for his groceries. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just transfer the cash bonus directly to you; it’s easier than mailing cash.” Back to the agreement. It was clearly vital to them. “Sure, Granny Lilly. Mail it over. I’ll sign it as soon as it arrives. I’ll text you my address.” Lilly hung up happy. A few days later, a thick manila envelope arrived from Hickory Creek. Inside were two identical, densely-typed agreements. [I voluntarily waive all claim to the inheritance of the Kincaid ancestral land in Hickory Creek, I voluntarily waive all claim to the land used for the ancestral home, I voluntarily waive all claim to all of Arthur Kincaid’s personal property, I voluntarily waive all claim to the condo in the county seat…] [I voluntarily waive all claim to the inheritance of Lillian Shaw’s ancestral land in Shaw Settlement, I voluntarily waive all claim to the land used for the ancestral home, I voluntarily waive all claim to all of Arthur Kincaid’s personal property, I voluntarily waive all claim to…] Paragraph after paragraph, thousands of words. It even included waiving my right to vote or run for the village council. Was all this necessary? I was holding the document when Sam, the class president, rushed up. “Avery, are you feeling better now?” He’d been keeping a close eye on me, worried I was going to have a breakdown. “I’m telling you, the lit mag thing is just bureaucratic nonsense. Just fill the word count with garbage—long, pointless filler—praise the school at the beginning and end, and you’re done. If you’re really angry…” Sam leaned closer and lowered his voice, “…hide one line insulting the administration in the middle of all the filler. They’ll never find it.” Hide one line in the middle of all the filler… My eyes widened. I slammed my fist into his shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you for the idea.” Sam grimaced, rubbing his arm. “Just glad you’re feeling better.” Filler exists to hide the truth. That was it. I tore through the convoluted text. […I voluntarily waive all claim to the inheritance of Lillian Shaw’s Audi A6 sedan…] […I voluntarily waive all claim to the shares and the right to inheritance for Hickory Creek Clean-Plate Supplies, LLC…] […I voluntarily waive all claim to the Shaw Settlement Village Council voting rights…] […I voluntarily waive all claim to…] My eyes fixed on the word shares. Every other asset was phrased as “waive all claim to the inheritance.” Only the factory included the term “waive all claim to the shares and the right to inheritance.” “Hickory Creek Clean-Plate Supplies, LLC… Sam, do you know how to look up a company’s information?” He pulled out his phone. “It’s easy. I have a subscription to the corporate database. The Student Council makes me hunt for sponsors all the time. What are you looking for?” Sam typed Hickory Creek Clean-Plate Supplies into the app. The screen refreshed. The name jumped out at me. My mother, Laurel Kincaid, was listed as a shareholder.

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Me and my sister found two snakes. The black one looked like a god in scale-form. The moment he saw my sister, Bella, he wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. That left me with the little white snake, who looked like he was knocking on death’s door. In my past life, I pitied him. I took him home, nursed him back to health, and basically became his servant. The black snake shifted into a human within a year—tall, dark, and handsome—and treated Bella like a queen. Meanwhile, I was busting my ass working odd jobs to feed myself and that useless white noodle. I was well past marrying age, but no guy wanted me because I carried a snake everywhere. They all said, “Ditch the reptile, and maybe we’ll talk.” I beat them all off with a broom. I used to pet his little head and whisper, “Even if you never shift, I won’t abandon you. I picked you, so I’m responsible for you.” Then the flash flood hit. My sickly white snake, who had been useless for ten years, suddenly transformed into a majestic dragon overnight. I reached out from the drowning currents, desperate for him to catch me. But he flew past me and scooped up Bella. It turned out, the first person he ever laid eyes on was her. It turned out, he learned to shift way before the black snake did; he just enjoyed watching me struggle. I open my eyes. I’m back. I look down at the dying white snake in my hand. And I yeet him into the dirt. 1 “Raven, look at this white one! He’s top-tier. He’s definitely gonna turn into a dragon someday and spoil you rotten!” Bella pressed the white snake into my palm, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You know Mrs. Higgins next door found one just like this ten years ago? That snake ascended and took her whole family up to the high life. Don’t forget your big sis when you’re rich, okay?” The villagers chimed in, right on cue. “Raven, you’re too soft! Everyone knows white snakes are more likely to become dragons! Bella isn’t as gentle as you, and let’s be honest, she’s the pretty one. You’re the one who needs the luck!” Bella put on a pouty face, then forced a brave smile. “It’s okay. I’m the older sister. It’s my job to take care of Raven.” I frowned. If you looked closely, the white snake was barely breathing. The black snake, on the other hand, had scales that shimmered like obsidian under the sun. The villagers were clueless, but Bella knew. She knew damn well which snake was the winning lottery ticket. In my last life, I didn’t call her out. I saw a dying creature and couldn’t walk away. But now? Watching the white snake bare his tiny fangs at me in my palm, I just felt sick. Before, I thought it was a stress reaction. Now I know—he just hated me. Splat. I threw the white snake onto a jagged rock, adjusted my basket, and walked away. “Raven!” Bella shrieked, scrambling to scoop up the snake. “How could you?! It’s a living creature!” “Life has its limits,” I said without looking back. “If he dies today, that’s just fate.” “Raven!” Bella stomped her foot. “You’re so cold-blooded! Are you really just going to watch him die?” The villagers stared at me, their judgment heavy and loud. “She’s got a rotten heart, that one. Bella is the beauty with the soul to match.” “Exactly. Look at Raven, plain as dirt and heart just as black.” I gripped the strap of my basket. I turned around. Bella was teary-eyed, playing the peacemaker, which only made everyone pity her more. She always did this. Handed me the short end of the stick, then acted like the martyr. I laughed. “Since you’re so saintly, Bella, why don’t you take both of them?” Bella froze. Her eyes darted around. “I… how could I hog such a blessing?” “It’s fine. Take ’em. When he ascends to godhood, I won’t ask for a ride.” Bella choked on her words. The white snake was hurt bad; healing him would cost a fortune in herbs and time. But the villagers were already pivoting. “Raven’s got no luck anyway. Bella should have it!” “Yeah, Bella, don’t let that ingrate have him!” Bella hesitated. “But his injuries…” Suddenly, a blinding white light exploded in the clearing. Everyone gasped. I whipped around. A man in white robes stood there, looking like a literal god. A trace of blood at the corner of his mouth only made him look more devastatingly beautiful. The crowd stopped breathing. I froze too. Lucien… he shifted? 2 My nails dug into my palms. I thought he learned to shift after I saved him. But no. He could always do it. All those years, he watched me get mocked for carrying a “dumb snake,” and he never lifted a finger. Now, at his weakest moment, he forced a transformation just to impress Bella. “Injuries don’t matter! I’ll take responsibility!” Bella screamed, her hesitation gone. If he could shift, ascension wasn’t far off. The villagers were drooling over Lucien’s god-tier looks. No one doubted he was the next big thing. They laughed at my stupidity and praised Bella’s kindness. Bella stepped in front of Lucien, blocking my view, acting like she was protecting him from me. “Raven, you said you didn’t want him. I tried to convince you, but… well, I guess I have to take him in.” “Don’t explain yourself to her, Bella! She gave him up! If she tries to take him back, we’ll run her out of town!” “Oh stop…” Bella blushed. “Raven isn’t like that…” I stared coldly at Lucien. He looked past the crowd, locking eyes with me. That desperate, forced transformation. That look—it wasn’t the look of a stranger. He was reborn too. When I turned and walked away without a second glance, confusion flashed in his eyes. And shock. The whole village was buzzing about how I fumbled the bag. Lucien was the talk of the town. Everyone was waiting for him to ascend. They waited for me to regret it, to come crawling back. But I never looked at him again. Until one day, I was walking down a path, and a hand grabbed my wrist. I tried to yank it away, but he held tighter. He frowned at me, silent. His eyes were asking a question. Maybe even demanding an answer. Why don’t you love me this time? Did he really not know? I couldn’t pull free, so I pried his fingers off mine, one by one. Then I shook my aching wrist and walked off, cursing under my breath. Lucien stared at his hand, then at my retreating back. His eyes reddened. I guess when you’re used to being someone’s entire world, indifference feels like betrayal. In my past life, I carried him through storms. I thought we had a bond. Walking away hurt my heart, physically. But that night, thirsty for water, I passed by the guest room and heard whispering. “My Lord, if you feel regret toward the Second Miss… why not take her as a spirit pet?” I peered through the crack in the door. Lucien stood with his hands behind his back, looking like a statue carved from jade. “Since I have been granted a second chance, I must fix my regrets.” A shadowy figure knelt behind him. “But… your brother has already chosen the Eldest Miss.” “So what?” Lucien turned. His eyes, usually cold, burned with possessiveness. “I came to this life for her. Nothing will stop me from being with her. Not even my brother.” I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. But then the subordinate asked, “May I ask, My Lord… why are you so obsessed with a mortal woman?” Lucien’s voice went soft, dripping with nostalgia. “At Wyrmwood Creek, when I was near death, I will never forget how she lifted me with her own hands. She guarded me for forty-nine days. Without her, I would be nothing but snake bones.” Wyrmwood Creek?! I froze. That… that was where I saved a little white snake. I guarded him for forty-nine days. I never told anyone. So… the snake I saved there and the snake I brought home were the same snake? I clenched my fist and let out a silent, bitter laugh. Lucien, you absolute moron. I had no intention of claiming the credit. In this life, I had bigger plans than playing nursemaid to a reptile. 3 I stopped going to the mountains to pick herbs. I stayed in my room, studying. Until the annual Spring Gala. Bella dragged me out. “It’s the Gala, Raven! If you don’t go, the Flower Goddess won’t bless you!” Flower Goddess? Blessings? I glanced at the history book on my desk, thought for a second, and nodded. “I got you an outfit! Throw away those rags. You need to look pretty!” She handed me a bag. I opened it later that evening. It was a hideous red floral shirt with neon green pants. It looked like a clown threw up on a Christmas tree. But when I went to find my other clothes, they were gone. Hungry and out of options, I put on the clown suit and went out to find food. I ran straight into Bella and her posse. She was wearing sheer silk, looking ethereal. “Oh my god,” one girl gasped. “Does she think she looks good?” “Ugly people really try the hardest. Is she trying to steal Bella’s thunder by looking like a joke?” “Haha, well she succeeded. Bella’s dress is made of celestial silk gifted by Lord Lucien. Raven isn’t fit to wipe her shoes.” “Stop it, everyone!” Bella rushed over, looking horrified. “Raven, why are you wearing that? It’s my fault… I didn’t prepare well enough for you.” Her eyes welled up with tears. The crowd immediately started comforting her. “Bella, it’s not your fault she has no taste!” “Yeah, where would she find a sister as good as you? It’s her own choice to look like trash.” “Are you done acting?” I asked loudly. The crowd went silent. I stepped up to her minions. “You said you don’t believe this is my only outfit? Bella, do you dare tell everyone who took all my clothes?” Bella choked. In the past, I would have walked away. Not today. “That silk looks nice on you, Bella. Even if the snake gave it to you, you must have added your own touch. So why did someone with such ‘high taste’ pick this garbage for me?” Bella covered her mouth. “Raven… are you doubting me?” “Stop playing the victim!” I swatted her hand away. “If you’re so innocent, let’s go to your room right now and see if my clothes are stuffed in your closet!” Bella turned pale. I grabbed her arm to drag her back, but she pulled away, sobbing. “Raven! Even if I did… doing this is tearing our sisterhood apart!” “Let’s just look.” I reached for the door. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my wrist. Two puncture marks. A snake bite. Suddenly, my mouth moved on its own. “What’s wrong with red and green? I’m prettier than Bella anyway… I want everyone to know she’s an ugly hag! I bet everyone will still protect her even if I throw this trash in her face!” I clamped my hand over my mouth. The crowd’s gaze shifted from pity to disgust. “I knew it! She’s a jealous psycho!” One of Bella’s friends slapped me across the face. The mob swarmed, pulling my hair, tearing my ugly clothes. “You don’t deserve anything Bella gives you!” I stumbled back and ran. Before I turned the corner, I saw Lucien appear next to Bella, pulling her into his arms. His cold eyes bore into me. Bella was weeping into his chest, hiding her smirk. I rubbed my throbbing wrist where a white shadow had flashed moments before. I gritted my teeth. 4 While I recovered at home, Lucien actually came to my room. I swiped the medicine he brought off the table. It shattered. He looked at me with a complicated expression. He picked up a pill, grabbed my jaw, and forced it down my throat. “Spit it out and you die,” he threatened. I swallowed the antidote. My head cleared instantly. He waited a moment, ensuring the truth serum or whatever hex he used wore off. “Do you have nothing to say to me?” he asked at the door. He knew I was reborn. I hadn’t said a word to him since I woke up. I closed my eyes. “No.” He stared at me for a long time before closing the door. My reputation in the village was trash. I was the “Jealous Ugly Sister.” I disappeared for a while. Everyone said I ran away out of shame. But I came back. Bella, glowing with health thanks to Lucien’s care, patted my shoulder patronizingly. “Raven, I know you’re jealous. But you have to accept your lot in life. Accusing me in public was wrong. Don’t covet what isn’t yours. Lucien loves me. I can’t control that.” I shoved her aside. She shrieked and fell conveniently into Lucien’s arms as he walked in. “Raven, I was just trying to welcome you home…” she sobbed. Lucien frowned, shielding her. “Bella, apologize.” I laughed coldly. He looked dark. “Come at me if you have a problem. You can’t force love. I chose her. Stop hurting her behind my back while pretending you don’t care!” Just then, drums and gongs sounded outside. Officials in red robes marched in, beaming. “Congratulations to Miss Raven! First place in the Provincial Exam! Your policy essay was read by the Emperor himself! He summons you to the capital!” “The Exam?” Bella gasped. “Raven… a woman… you took the State Exam?” 5 I smirked. “The Emperor opened the exams to women this year. I guess you were too busy scheming to notice the news.” I walked past Lucien. “You’re wrong, Lucien. My goal was never you. Getting over you was easy. Compared to my career and the fate of the nation? You’re insignificant.” Lucien stopped breathing. He looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. In his last life, I rejected every suitor for him. Now, I discarded him like a used tissue. He couldn’t process it. But I wasn’t here to manage his ego. I took the golden scroll. Bella tried to touch my sleeve, but I dodged. “Don’t cross the line, sister.” The official scowled at her. “Bold! This is the Emperor’s top scholar! Kneel!” Bella, red-faced and humiliated, was forced to her knees by imperial authority. The official handed me a heavy bag of gold. “Be at the capital by the 7th of next month! The court covers all expenses. With your talent, you’ll likely skip the preliminaries. Don’t forget us little people when you’re Prime Minister!” The villagers slapped their own faces in shock. “Is Second Girl gonna seek revenge on us?”

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I was the fake heiress, switched at birth. When my wealthy parents finally laid eyes on their biological son, they immediately wanted to bail. “Why is he a street thug? Abort mission! Let’s get out of here!” I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I forced the “Real Young Master” into a strict rehabilitation program. I whipped him into shape—literally—until he became a National Champion. Later, when I tried to retire from my duties, the boy signed all the family assets over to me and cried like a baby: “You said you’d manage me for a lifetime! One year less, one month less, even one hour less doesn’t count as a lifetime!” 1 After discovering I was the accidental heiress switched at birth, my dad and mom took me to see their biological son. In a dark alley, the school’s notorious bad boy was fighting ten guys at once. He sent a group of dyed-hair delinquents howling in pain. The three of us crouched behind a dumpster, watching the fire from the other side of the river. My dad frowned, adjusting his bespoke suit. “Why is he a hoodlum?” My mom immediately started retreating. “I feel like one of his punches could kill three of me! Let’s go, let’s go!” I blocked their path. “But he’s your biological son!” My cold, CEO father looked at him with disdain. “So what if he’s biological? The Sterling family doesn’t raise idlers.” My socially anxious, avoidant mother looked terrified. “Forget it, forget it… I can’t accept a son this big popping up out of nowhere… let’s just figure out how to compensate him later…” The Sterling family had raised me as the heir since childhood—perfect grades, perfect manners. Meanwhile, the “Real Young Master” grew up with a chaotic single mom and became a problem child. And now, his biological parents were rejecting him. I imagined myself in his shoes. He was too pitiful. I had nightmares all night. In my dream, the bad boy was crying tears of blood: “Who stole my trust fund baby life?!” I woke my parents up at 3 AM for a family meeting: “Don’t get involved yet. I’m going to go meet him first.” 2 I transferred schools. From a prestigious private academy to a public high school. I became desk mates with the bad boy. His name was Hunter Thorne. He had sharp, intense features and a rebellious streak. He looked exactly like my CEO dad. So, upon our first meeting, I had a slip of the tongue. “Daddy…” Hunter looked at me coldly. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not into that kink.” Me: “…” Assessment complete. He’s a “Cinnamon Roll” disguised as a tough guy. During recess, I saw Hunter pull a bag of white powder out of his backpack. He tilted his head and dumped it straight into his mouth. It’s over. The kid is on drugs. Just as I was about to call 911, Hunter started beating his chest, gasping for water. Turns out, he was dry-scooping cheap protein powder. And accidentally cemented his throat shut. The poor kid had no money for meat, so he relied on off-brand powder for nutrition. From then on, I brought him bento boxes every day. Fresh, healthy, high-protein meals. Hunter actually ate them obediently. He asked me with a meaningful look, “You’re fattening me up. What’s the endgame?” I said sincerely, “You look too skinny. I just want you to eat better.” He suddenly lifted his T-shirt, revealing a rock-hard eight-pack. “I’m shredded, okay? I just look slim in clothes.” My eyes accidentally drifted downward. My tired eyes instantly widened into copper bells! Wow, so big… so white… Cough, I mean, his T-shirt. 3 The first quiz ended. I looked at his grades. I almost passed out. Luckily, he was a Tier 1 MMA athlete. Maybe he could get a sports scholarship. But Hunter said he didn’t care about college. “Better if I don’t get in. After high school, I’ll just work construction.” I said that wouldn’t do. “I’ll help you get into a top university, okay? I’ll pay tuition, plus give you a $2,000 monthly allowance.” His comprehension skills were truly unique. “You want to be my sugar mama?” I said earnestly, “I just want to help a classmate in need. You can pay me back when you’re successful.” The guy in the front row turned around. “Sarah… actually, I really need help too…” Hunter kicked the back of his chair. “Scram!” The entire row was too scared to look back again. He glanced at me sideways. “You sponsoring anyone else?” I shook my head. “Only you.” The corners of his mouth twitched up so hard he couldn’t suppress it. For the first time all semester, the slacker opened a textbook. “I just suddenly feel like studying. It’s definitely not for anyone in particular~” Me: “…” 4 To facilitate the plan, I bought the apartment across from Hunter’s. It was a rundown unit in the projects, not expensive. Just a few hundred grand. When I moved in alone, I made a lot of noise on purpose. Hunter’s door opened. A middle-aged woman in a cheap camisole opened the door. When she smiled, her teeth were yellowed from smoke. A cigarette dangled from her lips. “New neighbor?” A sharp pain hit my heart. This was my biological mother. All these years, Hunter had suffered in my place. I extended my hand. “Hi Auntie, my name is Sarah Sterling. I’m a junior at North High.” “Eh? My son is a junior too! What class are you in?” At that moment, Hunter’s tall frame squeezed out from behind his mom. He looked at me in shock, the tips of his ears turning red. “Look at you, why are you so desperate following me home~” Me: “…” 5 I was invited to dinner at Hunter’s. It was 100 degrees, but they wouldn’t turn on the AC until I arrived. Hunter opened the cupboard to get me snacks. Suddenly, he let out a shonen anime protagonist scream: “Damn rats! The cursed rats! They ate a hole in my Buldak noodles!!” What a sin. What kind of hard life was the Young Master living? I wiped a tear of sympathy. His mom was shocked. “The highest level of love is pity. You must really like our Hunter, huh?” I waved my hands frantically. “No, no!” Hunter looked both moved and embarrassed. “Mom, don’t be so direct, she’s shy~~” I was anxious. “Really, I’m not!!” His mom issued a command. “You’re still students. Talk about liking each other after the SATs.” Hunter looked reluctant. “Oh.” I was relieved. Knowing Hunter loved MMA, I told him I’d support his dream. Find the best coaches. Fly him around the world for matches. I’d also help him with his academics. I said, “I hope Hunter can go to a good college, have a career he loves, and live a happy life.” I promised, “As long as I have the ability, I can be responsible for him… for life.” I looked up. Mother and son were crying like teakettles. Hunter looked at the ceiling, wiping tears. “To plan so far ahead for me… she really loves me to death!” Because he was so deep in his own delusions, my explanation felt incredibly pale: “Bro, I really don’t…” 6 My move caused too much commotion. Grandpa found out. I finally convinced him to come take a look. But as soon as the car stopped, we saw Hunter. He had stolen a neighbor’s new cockroach costume. He was currently crawling on the ground, chasing people. Singing: “For you~ I become a roach~” My grandpa immediately told the driver to turn around. His old face was full of disgust. “Granddaughter, come home! I’m afraid that idiot is contagious!!” Me: “…” No. I have to train this embarrassing guy properly!

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I was the most invisible little security guard in the company. So ordinary that no one even knew my name. But no one could have guessed, I took this job just to cover up my real identity— A modern-day “corpse walker.” By day, I help the living clean up their messes. By night, I help the dead continue their lineage. I originally planned to retire after saving up 100 million. But that night, I received a huge order worth 50 million. 1 Seeing that string of zeros, I bounced off the bed like a rocket, sleep instantly forgotten. Fifty million! After this job, I could retire on the spot and lie flat forever. Thinking of this, I happily prepared to accept the order. But the moment I was about to press confirm, reason reclaimed my brain. When things are too good to be true, there’s usually a catch. This price, unreasonably higher than the market rate by tenfold, definitely smelled fishy. With a cautious attitude, I asked a few detailed questions. The other side replied quickly. “The situation here is a bit special. The deceased’s family loves their daughter dearly and can’t bear to move the body.” “So, you need to leave an heir for the deceased at the scene of death first. Do the deed, then clean up.” I frowned and replied: “I don’t do risky jobs.” I’ve worked hard for years to save up tens of millions. I didn’t want to lose everything before I could even enjoy it. Seeing my reluctance, the other side got anxious. After hesitating for less than three minutes, they explained their true intent. 2 He told me the deceased was Stella He, the only daughter of the richest man in the capital circle. Stella committed suicide by slitting her wrists at home because of love troubles. The death scene was particularly gruesome. Mrs. He, who always doted on her daughter the most, fainted just by looking inside. Mr. He was worried that news would affect the company’s stock price. He was also worried that there would be no one to inherit the family business. So he thought of finding me to solve this trouble. “Of course, this money isn’t for nothing.” “Besides guaranteeing a 100% success rate, you also have to accept a body search and guarantee not to leak any information.” I thought quickly. In our line of work, reputation is paramount. Followed by confidentiality. Since I planned to retire right after this job anyway, The fewer people who knew about this, the better. Thinking of this, I agreed immediately. The He family truly lived up to their reputation as the richest. Less than half an hour after confirming the order, A helicopter to pick me up landed on the lawn downstairs. Arriving at the He residence, I was blinded by the magnificent villa. I couldn’t help calculating in my mind. With my security guard salary of 3,500 a month, I couldn’t afford such a luxurious house even if I didn’t eat or drink for several lifetimes. Just as I was thinking, Mrs. He’s crying interrupted my thoughts. Looking up. The Western-style living room was decorated with traditional Chinese wedding ornaments. A big red “Double Happiness” character was pasted on a pitch-black coffin. 3 In this silent late night, it appeared especially eerie and terrifying. Mr. He burst into tears as soon as he saw me. “Master, you must help. We worked hard for half our lives and only have this one daughter.” “Now the white-haired are sending off the black-haired. If there’s nothing left to hope for, her mother and I really don’t want to live anymore…” The old man in front of me had graying temples and a haggard face. He looked like a completely different person from the spirited President He on TV. I remembered reports about him. Lost his father young, started from scratch. Now losing his child in old age, with no successor. Truly tragic. Seeing the couple’s unbearable grief, I couldn’t help sighing in my heart. The rich also have troubles money can’t solve. Thinking this, my attitude softened a lot. “How about this? Add another five million, and I’ll do my best to get you fraternal twins.” Mr. He paused, then agreed joyfully. After receiving half the deposit, I asked for Stella’s birth date and time as per custom. Just as I was about to draw the talisman, I froze. This birth date… there’s a problem. 4 I looked at it again and again. I refused to accept the answer in my heart. I could only ask the He family to take me to Stella’s room first. Mrs. He fainted again crying as soon as she saw the dried bloodstains on the wall at the door. Mr. He barely maintained his composure. But tears still rolled down his cheeks uncontrollably. “Master, don’t be offended.” “Stella, she really… died too tragically…” I glanced into the room. Stella lay stiffly on the bed. The dim light obscured her face. But it illuminated the shocking bloodstains in the room. Arterial blood can spray more than two meters high. Those million-dollar vases and crystal chandeliers in the room were all splattered with blood. Looking up, it was a sea of crimson. Doing the deed in such an environment was truly creepy. No wonder the He family offered a high price of fifty million directly. I glanced around briefly and frowned. “How can I work with the room in this state? Have to add money.” “Tell you what, I won’t make it hard for you. Add another five million, making it sixty million total. A lucky number.” Mr. He looked at me with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Master is young but quite skilled.” “It’s just… a bit different from the corpse walkers in my impression.” Traditional corpse walkers transport bodies to let the souls rest in peace. But times have changed too fast, and transportation methods have become diverse.

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I’ve always rejected the idea of inner turmoil. When a college roommate accused me of theft, I called the police immediately and told them to search my side of the room. When a professor, threatened by my confidence, slut-shamed me in her office, I brought the entire class in and forced her to point out the specific man I was supposedly trying to ‘charm.’ My reputation quickly preceded me. No one dared to cross me—until that dinner party. I’d just returned from the restroom when I heard my boyfriend’s ‘girl friend’—a blonde named Vanessa Hill—delivering her assessment right outside the door. “Look at her. Total vanity project. I bet she says she’s naturally beautiful, but she’s clearly all filler and filters.” “Head-to-toe designer clothes, driving a G-Wagon… what kind of job pays that well for a girl her age?” “Rhys, darling, you need to be careful. She’s definitely trying to climb the ladder from gold-digger to wife!” I pushed the door open, my voice cutting through the noise. “Your mouth smells like a sewage backup, Vanessa. Did you eat trash today?” 1 Silence instantly swallowed the private dining room. Every glance, whether direct or peripheral, was sizing me up. My boyfriend, Rhys Caldwell, said nothing. His gaze, however, was dark and unreadable. Vanessa’s smirk froze for a beat before she covered her mouth with a delicate, practiced laugh. “I was only kidding, Skylar! Why are you so defensive, darling?” “Did I strike a nerve? Are you worried Rhys will dump you and your whole little operation will collapse?” I immediately pulled out my phone, started playing the recording of her words on a loop, and, right in front of her, contacted my lawyer. I watched Vanessa’s pale, shifting expression, and let out a cold laugh. “You’re an adult, Vanessa. You need to pay for your words.” “If you can’t provide immediate evidence to support your claim that I’m a gold digger, expect a defamation lawsuit. I will sue you for slander.” The rest of the friends at the table looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to go for the jugular so fast. Vanessa chewed on her lip, her face white. Rhys’s brow furrowed. He was clearly displeased. “Skylar, this is too much! It was just a little drama, why are you making a scene?” A little drama? Being publicly slandered as a prostitute is “a little drama”? He didn’t react when I was being insulted, but the moment I defend my own name, he tells me to let it go. Did he think I was some kind of pushover? I opened the dialing app and hovered my finger over the 911 button. “Apologize to me in the next three seconds, Vanessa, or I’m calling the police right now.” Since I was meeting all of them for the first time, it was clear the others were closer to Vanessa. One of the men scoffed. “Whoa, what a temper. Maybe she’s really just acting tough because she knows Vanessa is right?” Rhys’s face hardened. He grabbed my wrist, his voice turning cold. “If you’re not what she says, then prove it to me.” My breath hitched. I couldn’t believe the words that had just left his mouth. “What are you talking about?” No wonder he had stayed silent earlier. He was actually listening to her poisonous gossip. Seeing the frost in my expression, Rhys doubled down. “Just show me all the chat logs on your phone. If I see nothing suspicious, I’ll believe you.” I nearly laughed out loud. Why should I have to prove my innocence against a baseless rumor? I yanked my arm free, crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned back in my chair, fixing my gaze on Vanessa. “I see that’s the new LV bag. The cheapest version is easily ten grand. So, did you earn that, or did you scam it? Got a receipt, Vanessa?” The others looked closer, realizing I was right, and their inquisitive stares turned to Vanessa. She faltered, hesitating for a moment before pursing her lips. “Rhys bought it for me.” A slow, deliberate smile stretched across my face. “My boyfriend bought you something that expensive? I have every reason to suspect you two are hooking up.” Slam! Rhys slapped his chopsticks down. He glared at me. “Skylar Reed, you are completely irrational!” “Vanessa and I are clean! It was just a friendly gift. Are you seriously this jealous?” I grabbed my phone, opened my photos, and pulled up a screenshot I’d taken earlier. The picture showed Vanessa in a black lace negligee, her cleavage prominent. It was a photo she’d sent to Rhys with the question: Do you like this dress? I stood up and walked directly over to the guy who had defended Vanessa, shoving the phone right in his face. “Tell me, buddy. What kind of intentions does a person have when they send this kind of photo to someone else’s boyfriend late at night?” He shrunk back, refusing to meet my eyes. The others suddenly became fascinated by their own plates, desperate not to get involved. I turned back to Rhys, a terrifying grin on my face. “Tell me, what do you think?” Rhys’s face immediately darkened. He shot Vanessa a look of cold fury. Sensing the tide turning, Vanessa scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, Skylar, I shouldn’t have said those things.” “And I didn’t mean to send that photo to Rhys! I meant to send it to my friend, but I accidentally sent it to him. I can’t believe you went through Rhys’s chats and screen-grabbed it!” No, I just happened to see it pop up and took a screenshot for proof. But Rhys only heard the second half. He turned his accusatory gaze on me. “You checked up on me?” Tears welled in Vanessa’s eyes. “Rhys, Skylar, please don’t fight because of me. I apologize to Skylar. I promise I’ll stay far away from you from now on, Rhys.” Rhys pulled her close, his voice chillingly cold. “You’re not the one who should be apologizing. Turns out Vanessa was right, Skylar. You’re nothing but a conniving, gold-digging sociopath.” “You hooked enough money off other old men and thought you’d try to anchor yourself to a real trust-fund baby, didn’t you? Stop hiding your tacky ambition.” “We’re done. And trust me, you cross me, you won’t get away with it. I’ll be waiting for the day you come crawling back.” He pocketed his phone and stormed out. Vanessa turned to me, a smug, triumphant smile on her face. The others looked on with a mixture of amusement and contempt, filing out one after another. I looked at the empty room and laughed. Rhys was right. The only difference was that he was the one who wouldn’t be getting away with anything. 2 Rhys and his entourage kicked me out of their group chat. But they didn’t block me. Instead, they constantly updated their social media feeds: snowboarding trips, golf tournaments, fast cars, yacht parties, all flaunting mansions and luxury cars. It was a pathetic show meant entirely for my benefit. What they didn’t realize was that in an effort to show off, they’d rented a massive estate to host an auction house party where the ‘goods’ being auctioned were female influencers. I clapped my hands softly. How incredibly interesting. An open invitation for disaster—it would be a crime not to take advantage of it. I paid a substantial amount to bribe one of the estate’s catering staff, instructing him to install pinhole cameras in every corner to ensure a 360-degree surveillance setup. He looked terrified when he heard the request. “Ms. Reed, this is highly illegal, isn’t it? If they find it, I could go to jail.” I smiled. “What they’re planning to do is far worse. No one will be concerned with a few cameras when the dust settles. Don’t worry.” I pulled out a bank card and handed it to him. “This is your fee. I assure you, you will be very satisfied.” That night, he messaged me confirming everything was set up. Perhaps as a final attempt to make me regret leaving, Rhys even sent me an invite. Why not accept? I certainly wasn’t going to miss the show. The night of the party, Vanessa approached me, acting the part of the hostess, her expression haughty. “You’ll probably never earn enough money in your life to afford the down payment on a place like this, you know.” “Don’t think just because you have a pretty face, some trust-fund idiot will stick around. Plastic surgeons are a dime a dozen now. If you want to latch onto someone, you’ll have to beg Rhys first.” I watched her swagger away and fought the urge to roll my eyes. Rhys then walked up, looking down at me. “I thought you wouldn’t show. Vanessa was right, wasn’t she? You’re a gold digger who can’t stay away from the money.” His entire crew gathered around, throwing out their usual cheap insults. “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Skylar Reed. What’s up, ditching the high-and-mighty act and crawling back so fast?” “She looks high-class, but I bet she’s filthy underneath. Rhys, when you’re done, pass her around to the rest of the guys!” The group roared with vulgar laughter, their eyes predatory. I tilted my head, forcing a saccharine-sweet smile. “Wow, your imaginations are so vivid. Don’t worry. I’m just here for the show.” “Just wait. You’ll be crying later, I promise.” Vanessa spat the words, turning to leave with the men. I found a quiet corner and opened my phone. The livestream was running. Vanessa’s face, beaming with excitement, was front and center. She held a microphone and addressed the room. “Welcome, gentlemen, to tonight’s Auction House Party! And now, please welcome our first item up for bid!” A line of scantily clad female influencers—sweet-faced, curvy, soft-spoken—paraded onto the stage. As soon as the influencers appeared, the stream started gaining viewers. “No way? Is this what I think it is? Can they even broadcast this?” “Dude, don’t doubt it. I recognize one of them. That’s Rhys Caldwell from the city’s A-list circles. Total trust-fund brat.” “I follow a few of those girls! They’re being treated like this by a bunch of rich jerks? Unbelievable.” Due to the audacious content and rapid sharing among viewers, the livestream quickly went viral, hitting over fifty thousand concurrent viewers. Rhys and his friends had no idea. 3 “Lot number one, starting bid one hundred thousand, with minimum raises of ten thousand.” Vanessa stood in the auctioneer’s spot, basking in her temporary authority, her eyes full of contempt for the women on stage. Her expression stiffened for a moment, however, when Rhys placed the first successful bid. The acquisition of Lot 1 immediately injected a hint of jealousy into Vanessa’s gaze. As I watched the stream comments fly by, my phone buzzed with a text from Rhys. Could you make this much money sleeping with other men? Probably take you ten or more times. If you come over now and get on your knees, crawl to me, and beg for forgiveness, I might consider giving you one more chance. I let out a harsh laugh. Rhys must have a few screws loose. Did he really think I needed him? What, did he think wealthy families don’t have daughters? For the record, my family’s actual net worth would make his father’s fortune look like pocket change. The next second, the livestream was suddenly shut down. Across town, Victor Caldwell, Rhys’s father, received a frantic call. His face went white. He immediately called Rhys, but between the loud music and the fact that Rhys was currently making out with his new Lot 1, he didn’t hear his phone. Moments later, Victor and a swarm of bodyguards kicked in the villa’s front door, storming in with absolute fury. Victor hauled Rhys off the sofa and, without a word, delivered a massive, ringing slap across his face. Everyone froze, stunned. Vanessa, seeing her man assaulted, shrieked and ran over. “You old man, who the hell do you think you are? You lay a hand on Rhys again, you’re dead!” She didn’t notice the complicated, almost pitying glances the other young men were shooting her. SMACK! Rhys slapped her back, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s my father, you idiot!” At that, Vanessa’s legs gave way. She almost collapsed, stumbling to offer a terrified apology. “Mr. Caldwell, I’m so sorry! I was just worried about Rhys! I spoke out of turn! Please don’t be angry!” Victor Caldwell shot Vanessa a look of deep distaste. “This is who you keep around?” Seeing Rhys about to get dragged further, Vanessa played her final card: she violently slapped herself multiple times, tears streaming down her face. “Uncle! I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault! Please don’t punish Rhys! I promise I’ll never speak out of turn again!” Victor’s face softened slightly. He looked around the chaotic room and demanded of his son, “What in God’s name are you doing?” Having been slapped in public, Rhys was embarrassed and pissed. “Just having a little fun, Dad.” Hearing the casual arrogance, Victor’s hand shot up again. He held back, his face a mask of disappointment. “Look at what you’ve done!” He shoved his phone, playing the recorded livestream, in front of Rhys. Rhys’s expression changed instantly. “Where did this come from?” Seeing his genuinely confused reaction, Victor guessed someone had set him up. “Think, Rhys. Who have you crossed lately? Whoever did this is not an amateur.” He thought and thought. The most impossible answer was often the correct one. Rhys’s eyes snapped up, landing on me. However, I had quietly slipped out of the villa moments before Victor’s dramatic entrance. I was now in my car, watching Rhys’s panic unfold through the cameras. I always live by one rule: anyone who messes with me gets repaid a hundredfold. 4 Rhys texted me a slew of desperate messages. Was it your sugar daddy who did that for you? I can’t believe you found a new man so fast. With that kind of pull, he must be a sixty-year-old leech! Letting some old man worm all over you… you’ll do anything for money. That’s truly disgusting! I ignored the insults and blocked him completely. I knew that given Rhys’s standing in the Caldwell family, a little video scandal wasn’t enough to truly shake him. Sure enough, the next day, the entire fiasco was swept under the rug and explained away as a “behind-the-scenes gag for a short film.” I made my next move. I contacted Victor Caldwell’s illegitimate son, Rhys’s younger, half-brother: Ezra Caldwell. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. More importantly, if Rhys was taken down, Ezra would be next in line. Ezra didn’t hesitate; he agreed to my invitation instantly. The next day, a major charity gala was held at the Grand Unity Hotel. Virtually every elite family in the city was present. Vanessa and Rhys were walking through the doors just as I stepped out of Ezra Caldwell’s car. They froze. “Skylar Reed. I wondered who you were latching onto next. Turns out it’s my worthless little brother.” “Tsk tsk. I hope you know he’s a bastard child. Everything he has is just the crumbs that fall from my table. Pitiful.” Vanessa clung to Rhys’s arm, her voice dripping with venom. “A gold digger and an illegitimate son. What a perfect match!” They turned and walked away. Ezra quietly comforted me. “Don’t let them get to you.” I smiled. I didn’t care. They were just two clowns. I took Ezra’s arm, and we walked into the ballroom. A little while later, Rhys and his friends cornered Ezra and me in a remote part of the venue. Rhys had a wicked, satisfied grin. “Tell me, guys. How viral would it go if my little brother and a trashy gold digger got frisky right here on the ballroom floor? That would be explosive, wouldn’t it? Haha!” The crew laughed, their expressions lecherous. Rhys waved his hand. His men immediately moved in and pinned Ezra and me. Vanessa grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and poured a glass of drugged wine down my throat. Ezra received the same treatment. As soon as we’d swallowed, Rhys and Vanessa clinked glasses and drank theirs, triumphantly. On Rhys’s signal, a powerful spotlight suddenly illuminated our corner of the room. In the dim banquet hall, a man and a woman were now locked together, writhing and tearing at each other’s clothes under the intense light.

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Chapter 1: The Detective in the Dark My best friend, Sarah, always told me: “Layla, never let a man know you have money on the first date. It attracts the sharks.” I was good at following that rule. I drove a beat-up Honda to first dates instead of my G-Wagon. I wore Zara instead of Chanel. I played the part of the struggling graphic designer, hiding the fact that I was the sole heiress to the Vance Media empire. But logic left the building the night I met Damien. It happened at an immersive “Murder Mystery” dinner party in a converted warehouse in Downtown Los Angeles. The theme was 1920s Noir. I drew the card for “The Black Widow,” a femme fatale suspect. I was terrible at it. “You’re shaking,” a voice whispered in the dark. I was currently locked in the “interrogation room”—a closet-sized space with flickering bulbs—waiting for my turn. The man standing next to me was playing the Detective. I looked up, and my breath hitched. Even in the dim light, he was devastating. Sharp jawline, messy dark hair that fell over his eyes, and a scent that was a mix of rain and expensive sandalwood. He leaned in close, invading my personal space in a way that should have been creepy but felt electric. “I’m not the killer,” I stammered, forgetting my lines. “I know,” he said, his voice low and gritty. He stepped closer. I could hear the rustle of his dress shirt. “But the script says I have to interrogate you. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” I’ll protect you. It was a cheesy line from a roleplay game, but the way he said it—with such quiet intensity—made my heart hammer against my ribs. When the lights came up for the final reveal, I got a better look at him. He was tall, leaning against the wall with the grace of a panther. But then, the illusion cracked. I looked at his shoes. They were cheap, scuffed faux-leather loafers. His dress shirt was frayed at the cuffs. He didn’t have a watch. He’s broke, I thought, a strange pang of sympathy mixing with my attraction. He’s beautiful, talented, and struggling. During the voting round, I accidentally incriminated myself because I was too busy staring at his hands. The other players laughed. “The Widow is cracking!” Damien stepped in. “Wait,” he commanded the room. “The evidence points elsewhere.” He systematically dismantled the arguments against me, spinning a wild theory that shifted the blame to the Butler. He saved me. After the game, I found him outside the warehouse. It was pouring rain—a rare, torrential L.A. downpour. He was standing by the bus stop, no umbrella, soaking wet. My “don’t show money” rule evaporated. “Hey,” I pulled my car up to the curb. “You’re going to drown out here. Need a lift?” He hesitated, looking at my car, then at his wet clothes. “I’ll ruin your upholstery.” “It’s just a car. Get in.” He hopped in. “I’m Damien.” “Layla.” “Thanks, Layla. You saved me. I don’t usually do these things, but… well, a gig is a gig.” “You were working?” I asked. “Yeah. I’m an actor. Or a musician. Or a waiter. Depends on the day of the week,” he gave a self-deprecating smile that made my knees weak. “Tonight, I was a detective.” I drove him to his apartment in North Hollywood. It was a dingy complex with peeling paint. Before he got out, he turned to me. “You know,” he said softly. “You were the worst murderer I’ve ever seen.” “Thanks,” I laughed. “But you were the best part of my night.” He didn’t ask for my number. He just smiled, a sad, longing smile, and ran through the rain to his door. I sat in my car for ten minutes, wondering why I felt like I had just lost something important. Chapter 2: The Wedding and the Promise I didn’t see him for a week. I tried to focus on work, on my portfolio, on anything other than the memory of his sandalwood scent. Then, my phone buzzed. It was the organizer of the Murder Mystery events. “Hey Layla! We’re running a new script this Saturday. ‘The Royal Wedding Gone Wrong’. We’re short one female player. Interested?” I typed back: “Is the Detective guy going to be there?” “Damien? Yeah, he’s playing the Groom.” I was there. I spent three hours getting ready. I told myself it wasn’t for him. I told myself I just liked the game. But when I walked into the venue, wearing a vintage lace dress, my heart was racing. The setting was a mock cathedral. I was assigned the role of the Bride. And Damien… Damien was the Groom. When he saw me, his eyes widened. He broke character for a split second, a genuine smile flashing across his face. “Hi,” he mouthed. We sat across from each other. He poured me water, fixed my napkin, treated me with a tenderness that felt dangerously real. The plot was chaotic. There was a poisoned chalice, a secret lover, and a murder. Halfway through the game, the script called for a dramatic confrontation. The “Secret Lover” character (played by a guy named Mike) stood up and shouted, “She doesn’t love you! She loves me! Run away with me, Layla!” Damien stood up. He looked at Mike, then turned to me. He took my hands. “This man claims to know your heart,” Damien said, improvising his lines. “But from the moment you walked in—late, flustered, apologizing with those dimples—I knew you were the only one for me.” The room went quiet. This wasn’t in the script booklets. “I promised to protect you last time,” Damien continued, his thumb brushing my knuckles. “And I meant it. I don’t care about the script. I choose you.” The other players “ooh-ed” and “ahh-ed.” My face burned. He lifted my veil and looked at me with such raw vulnerability that I forgot we were playing a game. After the session, it was raining again. “I’ll drive you,” I said immediately. “I can’t let you keep saving me,” he murmured, but he followed me to the car. This time, I took him to my place. My real place. A sprawling condo in the Hills. He looked around, wide-eyed. “You live here alone?” he asked. “Yeah.” “It’s… big. And cold.” “I’ll turn up the heat.” He was soaked again. I gave him a towel. He dried his hair, his shirt clinging to his chest. “Layla,” he said, standing in my living room. “Why are you terrified of me?” “I’m not.” “You are. Every time I get close, you flinch. Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “I’m just… not used to this,” I admitted. “To whatever this is.” “I like you,” he said. “For real. Not the game.” “You don’t even know me.” “I want to.” He stayed that night. We didn’t sleep together. He slept in the guest room. But before he left the next morning, he kissed my forehead. And then, he ghosted me.

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