Category: English

1 The day I was finally whole again. Daisy squeezed me tight, her eyes rimmed with red, her body trembling with joy. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “We can finally have a baby of our own!” Everyone said Daisy was crazy about me, that she’d do anything I asked. And I believed them. Until I saw the videos her first love sent me. Intimate, tangled, undeniable. I stopped her as she was setting up the crib we’d just bought. I walked right up to her, my voice steady, my heart a stone. “Let’s not have the baby.” I felt her entire body go rigid. I twisted the knife. “Daisy,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” The little wooden rattle in Daisy’s hand slipped from her grasp, landing on the plush carpet with a soft, muffled thud. She looked up at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “Harry.” She stepped closer, reaching for my hands. “Are you kidding me?” Her expression was so earnest, as if I were the center of her universe, so much so that I could feel the tremor in her fingers as she clutched mine. “This isn’t a funny joke.” “Harry, stop messing around.” She thought I was throwing a tantrum. A wave of bitter cold washed over me. “I’m not kidding.” My voice was flat. I gently pulled my hands from her grasp, pushing down the acid sting in my throat. “I’m dead serious.” “Daisy.” I held up my phone, open to the chat history, to the photos and videos the man had sent me. I watched the color drain from her face, her expression freezing over, her mouth opening to form an explanation I no longer wanted to hear. I cut her off. “You told him you wanted his baby,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You told him if it was a boy, you’d name him Caleb. A girl, Ryan.” I was trying, I really was, to keep myself together, to end this with some shred of dignity. Just like we’d promised each other when we started—if it ever ends, let’s make it clean. But then I looked at her face, and I remembered her whispering the same things to me, her lips brushing against my cheek in the afterglow of our own passion. I remembered her holding me, her voice full of breathless hope. “Harry, if we have a baby… let’s have a boy and a girl.” “We’ll call the boy Caleb.” “And the girl, Ryan.” I didn’t understand the significance of the names back then. I’d asked her why, but she’d just smiled and said she liked the sound of them. I didn’t push. They sounded nice enough to me. What a fucking joke. I stared at her, tearing her lies apart without a second thought. “It wasn’t because they sounded nice, was it? It was because his name,” I could feel my whole body start to shake, my jaw clenched so tight my words came out shuddering, “is Ethan Caleb Ryan.” “Your first love. The one you never got over.” “It’s not like that!” Daisy cried, her eyes flashing with panic as she reached for me. But the dam inside me broke. “IF YOU LOVED HIM SO MUCH, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME?” I roared, my voice shredding raw. “I WOULD HAVE LET YOU GO!” “DID YOU THINK I’D CLING TO YOU? DID YOU?” In a blind rage, I snatched a stuffed animal from the crib and hurled it at her. But she didn’t flinch. She threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around me in a suffocating grip, holding on so tightly I couldn’t breathe. I was choking, drowning in her betrayal, and in a primal, desperate act, I bit down hard on the soft flesh of her neck. I heard her sharp intake of breath, a pained grunt, but she didn’t let go. “It’s not like that!” she sobbed into my shoulder, her tears soaking my shirt. “Harry!” “It’s not!” “I’m sorry, Harry! I’m so sorry!” “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” 2 Honestly. I just wanted the divorce. I just wanted us to walk away from this without it getting any uglier. But Daisy called in the cavalry. She summoned both our families, and suddenly our spacious living room was cramped and suffocating, packed with every relative we had. They sat in a semi-circle, my parents and hers, staring at me as if I were a criminal on trial. They were here to pass judgment. I saw Daisy’s aunt looking me up and down, a sneer twisting her lips. “Look at him. Playing the stay-at-home husband has given you quite an ego.” She sniffed. “Daisy works herself to the bone so you can live a life of leisure, and this is the thanks she gets? An attitude?” Daisy’s mother chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Harry, dear, Daisy is not the kind of woman who would cheat. Why else would she have married you? She truly loves you. She wouldn’t have asked us all to come here to talk sense into you if she didn’t.” She reached over and squeezed my own mother’s hand, and my mom immediately turned on me. “Harry Alexander Price! You stop this nonsense right now! You won’t find another woman as good as Daisy if you live to be a hundred! What more could you possibly want?” My father delivered the final verdict. “This is not happening. As long as Daisy doesn’t want a divorce, you won’t get one. If you dare bring this up again,” he jabbed a finger at me, “I’ll break your legs myself.” The two families, united as one, sat in judgment of me, the sinner. I sat in the middle, weathering the storm of their accusations, their anger, their disappointment. When the shouting finally died down, Daisy spoke. “Harry,” she said, her voice soft as she took my hand. “I have never, ever wanted to divorce you.” “I can explain. Just let me explain.” To prove her sincerity, she dialed Ethan’s number right there in front of everyone and put him on speaker. She demanded he vouch for her, for their “innocence.” “You’ve got my husband thinking I’m cheating, and now he wants to leave me!” she cried into the phone. “Tell him the truth, right now!” Ethan’s voice, slick and unconcerned, filled the silent room. “Jesus, I was just messing with him. Can’t he take a joke?” He then addressed me directly. “What’s your problem, man? So I dated your wife for a few years. Everyone has a past. What, you expected her to be a virgin? Are you?” Listening to his casual disdain, after the barrage from our families and Daisy’s pathetic theatrics, something inside me snapped. Before Daisy could stop me, I lunged, snatching the phone from her hand. “If you were so ‘innocent,’ you wouldn’t have added me and sent me that shit!” I yelled, my voice trembling with rage. “Ethan, is it? If you’re so damn clean, what do you call hitting on a married woman? Is it a hobby, getting off on wrecking marriages? Or is your own life so miserable you can’t stand to see anyone else happy—” Ethan’s voice exploded from the speaker. “What the FUCK did you just say to me?” “DAISY! Are you just going to let your husband talk to me like that? Are you just going to stand there and—” CRACK. The sharp, stinging impact of a palm against my cheek silenced him. I raised a hand to my face, staring at Daisy in stunned disbelief. Her eyes were wide with panic. “Harry, I didn’t mean to—” “Hahahaha, Harry!” Ethan’s mocking laughter echoed from the phone. “Got what you deserved, didn’t you?” “I’m telling you, Harry, I can say whatever I want because your wife gives me the power to! Daisy is wrapped around my little finger, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!”

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It was Christmas, and my Uncle Rick had graciously invited the whole family for a “friendly” game of poker. But just as everyone was taking their seats, he announced, “We’re not playing for pennies. If we’re gonna play, we play for real.” The relatives chuckled nervously. “How real are we talking, Rick?” He unzipped a duffel bag and slammed ten stacks of cash onto the poker table. “Ten thousand a hand. If you don’t have the bankroll, don’t sit at the table.” An awkward silence fell over the room. One by one, they shook their heads, admitting they couldn’t afford stakes that high. They flattered him instead, saying he was a real big shot, a high roller even during a family game. Rick puffed out his chest, soaking in the praise. He launched into a lecture about how they all needed to be more ambitious, or they’d be poor their whole lives, too broke to even play a real man’s game. That’s when I quietly walked to the table. “Uncle Rick,” I said. “I’ll play with you.” 1 “You?” Everyone stared. Rick looked stunned for a second, then broke into a condescending smirk. “Leo, my boy, don’t you make a few grand a month? What is this, a joke?” I smiled faintly. “I got a decent Christmas bonus this year. Enough to keep you company for a few hands.” We all knew what this was about. Rick wasn’t playing poker; he was playing ‘look how rich I am.’ I’d been putting up with him for days. The day I got back for the holidays, I’d brought my dad a bottle of vintage Macallan. When Rick saw it, he’d scoffed, “Your dad’s a simple farmer. Does a man like him even have the palate to appreciate something like that?” If my dad hadn’t physically held me back, I would have exploded right then and there. But if Rick was going to use a simple game to trample on the dignity of his family, then I saw no reason to treat him like family anymore. “Well, well, look at you, doing alright for yourself,” Rick sneered, his disdain palpable. “A bonus that big is almost what I make in a week. Just don’t come crying to me when it’s all gone.” I looked at him, my stomach turning with disgust. It was the same thing every year. The holidays would start off happy, but then Rick, who owned some small-time logistics company, would start lording his success over everyone, lecturing anyone who would listen. Bragging to outsiders was one thing, but what kind of person needs to feel superior to their own family? Today, I was done indulging him. “Don’t worry, I can afford to lose,” I said, my voice cold as I hit him with a challenge. “I’m more worried you won’t pay up when you lose.” “Heh.” Rick’s laugh was sharp. “A hundred grand is nothing to me. You think I’m like you, scraping by on one bonus a year? Your dad told me you’re saving for a down payment to get married. It’d be a real shame if your fiancée left you when you’re broke. Don’t blame me when it happens.” His words hung in the air, and even the other relatives flinched. What kind of uncle says that to his own nephew? I was done with the verbal sparring. “So,” I said to the room, “is anyone else going to join us?” You need more than two for a game. But seeing the tension between Rick and me, no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. They all shook their heads, mumbling about the high stakes. Rick rolled his eyes. “Bunch of cowards. Can’t even handle a ten-thousand-dollar hand. How do you expect to ever get anywhere in life?” The relatives bristled, but no one dared to say a word. I took it all in, then narrowed my eyes at Rick. “If poker’s a no-go, how about something a little more… thrilling?” Rick’s eyelids drooped with arrogance. “Name your game. Texas Hold’em, Blackjack, Craps, Dice. I’ll play you in anything.” That was exactly what I wanted to hear. “Let’s do dice, then,” I said smoothly. “Simple high roll. Whoever’s higher, wins. Fast and exciting.” A triumphant grin spread across Rick’s face. “Fine by me. Your funeral, kid. Don’t regret it.” My other relatives shot me looks of pure shock. They all knew Rick had spent years hustling in VIP lounges and high-stakes games. He had a legendary dice roll, a skill honed over countless nights that even the most seasoned croupiers couldn’t beat. Playing dice against him was like a lamb walking into a wolf’s den. Of course, I knew dice was his specialty. Still, I asked for two sets of dice cups, each with five dice inside—his preferred setup. “Hold on,” Rick said, stopping me just as I was about to start. I raised an eyebrow. “What now?” “Where’s your money? Mine’s on the table.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. I told him I didn’t carry cash and showed him my digital wallet on my phone. In this day and age, who carries tens of thousands in cash unless they’re deliberately trying to show off? “Fifty thousand, huh? Not bad for a bonus these days,” Rick said, his eyes glinting with contempt after seeing the balance. “That’ll cover my pocket money for a couple of weeks.” I just smiled coldly, knowing he’d never miss a chance to flaunt. “Roll ‘em, lock ‘em, and show ‘em!” Rick snatched his cup and shook it with a flourish, the dice rattling for a full thirty seconds before he slammed it down on the table. I gave my cup a couple of casual shakes and set it down. All eyes were on us. Rick lifted his cup with a confident flourish. Three sixes, two fives. A powerful hand. I lifted mine at the same time. One, two, three, four, five. A straight. I lost. “Haha! The kid’s out of his depth,” Rick crowed, slapping the table. I said nothing, just silently transferred ten thousand dollars to him. “Rick, come on, the boy was just talking,” my dad pleaded, his face tight with worry. He looked at my uncle with begging eyes. “Let’s just call it one game.” Rick’s face darkened. “Don’t bother me, old man,” he snapped, not even bothering to call my dad his brother. “Your son’s not a dirt farmer like you. He’s seen the world, worked in the city. Ten grand is nothing. He’s still got forty left. Stay out of it.” He always treated my father this way, with zero respect. He’d completely forgotten that he only had what he had because my dad had given up his own chance at an education for him. “It’s okay, Dad,” I said, giving him a reassuring look. “I can afford to lose fifty thousand. I’ll earn it back next year.” My dad sighed. He knew my stubborn streak and didn’t want to embarrass me in front of everyone. “Again,” I said, picking up the dice cup. I lost the second round. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. In a matter of minutes, the fifty thousand dollars in my account was gone. “Haha! What a good nephew, giving your old uncle a fifty-thousand-dollar gift,” Rick chortled, raking in the last of my money. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you out to a real high-class club sometime, show you how the world works.” He was about to get up and leave. “Wait,” I said. He stopped. “What, you want more?” I nodded. Rick raised an eyebrow. “With what? This might be for fun, but we don’t play on credit.” I smiled. “I don’t need credit. I’ve got another three hundred thousand on my card.” “You idiot!” my father suddenly shouted, slapping his thigh in panic before I could even act. “That’s your down payment for the house! You can’t touch that!” “What are you yelling about?” Rick sneered, pointing a finger at my dad. “See, that’s your problem, old man. No vision. Your son wants to play, and I’m gonna play with him!” “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” My dad turned on me, his voice trembling. “Your mother and I worked our whole lives to save that money for you! If you lose it all, what are you going to do?” I ignored him. Right in front of Rick, I opened my banking app and transferred the entire three hundred thousand into my digital wallet. Rick’s eyes narrowed into slits, a greedy smile spreading across his face. “Leo, my boy, ten grand a hand is a little slow. Why don’t we raise the stakes?” I kept my voice flat. “How high?” Rick held up two fingers. “One hundred thousand a roll. Best of three.” I knew what he was thinking. Three quick rolls and my entire future would be in his pocket. But this was exactly what I was waiting for. “Done,” I said. A collective gasp went through the room. “One hundred thousand a roll? You two are crazy! We’re family, you don’t need to do this!” the relatives pleaded. My dad was frantic. He lunged forward and slapped me on the back of the head. “You damn fool! Are you insane? Are you going to gamble away our entire family’s savings? Your uncle does this every day! He’s a goddamn hustler, and you’re just a kid! What are you trying to prove?” I knew he was just trying to give me an out, a chance to back down and apologize. After all, three hundred thousand might be nothing to Rick. But to us, it was everything. I couldn’t afford to lose. “Are you going to be a nuisance all night?” Rick shot my dad an annoyed look. He was praising me on the surface, but I knew he was just afraid I’d back out. “Leo’s not like you! It’s only three hundred grand. He’s young, he can make more!” Just then, my Aunt Carol came over, frowning at my dad. “Honestly, it’s Christmas. Let the boy have some fun. You’re ruining the mood.” “Don’t worry about my dad, Uncle,” I said, a flicker of ice in my eyes. “Let’s just play.” Rick grinned and started shaking his cup. I matched him, then we both set our cups down. “Shame. Almost had five of a kind,” Rick said with a smug sigh, revealing his dice. Four sixes and a five. An incredible roll, but he acted as if it was a disappointment. The room fell silent. All eyes turned to me. This was for a hundred thousand dollars. One more loss, and I’d be in a hole I couldn’t climb out of. I didn’t hesitate. I lifted my cup. The next second, as everyone saw the numbers on my dice, their pupils contracted, their faces a mask of pure disbelief.

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I’ve been a little slow on the uptake since I was a kid. When I was little, I went camping with my childhood friend. In the middle of the night, I felt a small snake in my sleeping bag. I begged him, “Where did this snake come from? Throw it out.” His face turned bright red, and he stammered for ages before finally agreeing. Years later, I got drunk and ended up crashing in his room. My hand grabbed something again, and I cried out: “Jonah, you let a snake in the bed again!” The live comments went wild: [Twenty years later, and the FL is still this innocent?] [Girl, maybe give it a squeeze and see if it’s actually a snake.] [If she finds out the ML’s true form now, she’s gonna be scared to death.] 1 Jonah is my childhood friend. Sunny, athletic, straight-A student. The kind of kid every parent wishes was theirs. But he had a secret hobby he hid well—he liked raising snakes. I first found out when I was thirteen, on a camping trip with him. The adults had their tents, the kids had theirs. Jonah, two years older than me, was tasked with putting me to bed. “Go to sleep.” He zipped up my sleeping bag. Only my head was sticking out. My face felt a little hot and stuffy, so I stared at him and asked, “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Jonah stared back for two seconds, then turned away. “Kids sleep first.” Maybe because I was sheltered too much, my mom always said I was a bit dimmer than other kids. For example, when I saw strange things… First I’d frown, then I’d just accept it. In the middle of the night, I woke up. I struggled out of the sleeping bag, arms sprawled wide. But I didn’t bump into the person beside me. I groggily reached out, feeling around in the dark, calling his name: “Jonah?” “Where did you go? It’s so late.” No answer. It was pitch black inside the tent. My hand froze when it touched an unidentified object. Slippery, slimy, but hard. About as thick as my wrist, and kind of cold. My slow brain spun its gears as fast as it could. My first reaction was to keep calling Jonah. “Jonah!” “I touched something…” “Sob… I think it’s a snake. I’m holding it. I’m scared…” Yeah. I thought it was a snake. It must have warmed up in the covers, because it didn’t feel that cold. “Jonah…” I continued to cry out for him. “Stop yelling…” He finally made a sound. Accompanied by a weird… muffled groan. I paused, then continued crying, “Where did you go… I’m scared sleeping alone.” “I’m here.” Jonah’s breathing was heavy. “I’m sleeping far away from you.” “No.” I didn’t let go. Instead, I scooted closer to him. “I’m scared. Sleep next to me.” “Nngh…” He made a noise. I asked confusedly, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” He denied it. “Let go first. Where’s the snake? I’ll get it out.” “In my hand.” Saying that, I tried to grab my phone with my other hand. “I’ll turn on the flashlight for you.” “No!” Jonah immediately objected. I didn’t understand. “Why?” “N-nothing.” I let go. In the darkness, I heard Jonah unzip the tent, followed by the sound of something landing on the ground. “Done.” His voice was low and sounded unnatural. “I threw the snake out. Go back to sleep.” 2 The second time I found a snake was at Jonah’s house. That was also when I discovered his secret hobby. I was sixteen, he was eighteen. I forgot my keys, it was pouring rain, so I went to knock on Jonah’s door. “Jonah—” No one answered. But I knew his door code, so I just let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, the chill was even deeper than outside. I shivered and called out again. Still no answer. But I remembered Jonah came home early today. He usually loved sports, but skipped basketball practice saying he didn’t feel well. “Jonah?” I tiptoed up the stairs. His bedroom door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw a black snake as thick as my calf slowly slithering by. “Ah—” I was so scared I fell to the floor. The next second, a large hand covered my eyes. It was burning hot. Jonah’s body temperature was abnormally high. “Do you have a fever?” My heart tightened. I grabbed his wrist, trying to pull it away to see his face. But he held it tight. “Don’t move.” He said. Then added, “I’m fine.” “You’re burning up!” I was anxious. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever? Why didn’t you say anything?” Jonah was silent. Before I could get an answer, I felt a cold touch suddenly press against my calf. Then, inch by inch, it moved up. “Ah—” My mouth was covered too. I felt Jonah’s hand tighten. “It’s okay… don’t be afraid.” I thought of the snake I just saw. It was huge. How could I not be afraid? Not to mention, it was slowly climbing up my leg. And exploring further up. “Jonah—” I was about to cry. He didn’t move, just whispered soothingly, “It’s okay, it won’t hurt you. It’s like me.” Like Jonah? The worry-free kid, the childhood friend who took care of me growing up. Good at everything, knows everything, my sunny big brother figure. I felt the coldness. But slowly, it started to feel… wrong. I cried, “Jonah, it…” Jonah didn’t speak, but he pinned me down firmly. Forcing all my attention onto the sensation of the snake. My intuition told me that right now, he was completely different from usual. The fingers covering my mouth moved. One finger slipped into my mouth. “Don’t cry. Don’t move.” “Just trust me.” But… Tears were about to spill out. Until I fainted. 3 “You’re awake?” I woke up staring at my own bedroom ceiling. Jonah was sitting by the bed, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His dark hair was slightly messy, curling over his eyes, but it couldn’t hide the gentle look behind the lenses. He looked gentle and refined, just like always. As if the person who pinned me down, blinded me, silenced me, and let a snake crawl all over me wasn’t him. I hesitated. “Your fever broke?” “Yeah.” Jonah acted so natural. He even touched my forehead and looked at me with pity. “Penny, you got caught in the rain yesterday and had a fever too. Don’t come back soaked next time.” Oh, yesterday. “Yesterday…” I started to speak, but Jonah interrupted. “Yesterday you fell asleep on the couch downstairs at my place. I only found you after my shower. Lucky I found you in time.” I paused. Was that it? It… seemed plausible. After all, Jonah was so good to me. Even if he raised snakes, he wouldn’t let them hurt me. I told myself that. Then asked, “Did you get a pet snake?” Jonah seemed to hesitate for a second. Then he returned to his impenetrable facade. He smiled and said, “Yeah.” “It’s my secret. Penny, you can’t tell anyone.” “If you’re not a good girl, big brother will have to punish you.” 4 A flower sheltered in a greenhouse. Besides luck, needs a tough bodyguard. Growing up, Jonah was that bodyguard. In high school, guys confessed to me all the time. Jonah never cared, mocking them: “Those losers. Gotta admire their courage.” I didn’t quite get what he meant, but I nodded in agreement anyway. Until one day, a boy as gentle as Jonah appeared. I didn’t know how to reject him. He brought me cupcakes, and Jonah saw it. “Penny.” When Jonah walked over, he was smiling. But the boy’s face gradually turned pale. He hid behind me. When I turned to look at him, his expression was terrified: “Sorry, Senior, I didn’t know she was your sister.” “Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving.” As if he saw something terrifying, he just ran away. When I turned back to look at Jonah. He was smiling gently, pinching my cheek. Asking me: “Want to come over after school?” I thought of the black snake. I pursed my lips and asked, “Is Blackie home?” Jonah looked thoughtful. “Do you want to see him?” “I’m still a little scared of him.” He nodded. So, after school, I went to his house. As soon as we walked in, he took out a tie. And gently blindfolded me. “What are you doing…” I whined. Jonah held my hand and led me into the room, saying, “Aren’t you scared of him? If you can’t see him, you won’t be as scared.” That sounded reasonable. Or maybe not. But I was slow. Before I could think it through, I felt that familiar cold touch again. “Pet him.” Jonah whispered. I gently grasped it with my hand. I didn’t hear the snake hiss, but Jonah groaned. He grunted twice, complaining, “Taking you to cut your nails tomorrow.” I felt wronged. I grew those nails out with hard work. But I still obediently said “Okay.” 5 Thanks to my “bodyguard” Jonah. Even being this dumb and slow. I safely grew to 22 and graduated college. This year was Jonah’s busiest time. He took over the family business, working at the company until dawn every day, practically living there. My mom ordered me to bring him good food. “President Vance…” In front of the CEO’s office floor-to-ceiling window. I saw a curvaceous woman leaning over Jonah’s desk. I paused, then knocked. “Penny, what are you doing here?” Jonah stood up immediately. The woman was shooed out. When she passed me, a wave of perfume hit me. Her blouse had two buttons undone, revealing cleavage I’ll never have in this lifetime. I looked down at myself with mixed feelings. Jonah had already walked over to me and took the lunch box. “Bringing me food? Such a good girl.” He smiled, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. Dark circles under his eyes revealed his exhaustion. “My mom made me bring it.” My tone was stiff. “I’m leaving now, no need to praise me.” My heart felt stuffy, and my words came out sour. “You’re busy, I have to go report back.” “Report, back?” Jonah stopped smiling, chewing on those words. “Bringing me food is just a task to you?” His aura became dangerous. But I’m stubborn. I turned around, but he grabbed me. “Penelope.” Jonah was unhappy. Whenever he was unhappy, he used my full name. Then, he threatened, “You aren’t scared of snakes anymore?” I shivered. I was still a little scared. Because of the trauma from the first time I saw it. But my stubborn streak flared up, and I forced out: “Not scared. I’m leaving, you handle your business.” So tough. I turned to leave. But just then, I suddenly saw something on the glass door of the office. Lines of subtitles floating by. [LMAO, girl do you know what you’re messing with?] [Exactly, keep provoking him girlie. We’ve been waiting for the ML to drop the mask and go feral on you.] [Poor ML. FL is 22 and still acts like a kid. When will he finally get some action? He looks ready to explode.] [Yeah, I support the ML just grabbing her by the neck right now.] [+11111111] I froze. Meanwhile, behind me, Jonah asked coldly again: “Are you really not scared of snakes anymore?”

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I thought I would never see him again. But I never expected that the next time our paths crossed, he would be standing there with his arms crossed, watching his wife beat my son. 1 I received a frantic call from the kindergarten teacher. She told me Leo had gotten into a fight with another classmate and urged me to get there immediately. She mentioned the other child’s parents were already on their way and we needed to negotiate a resolution. I dropped my work instantly and rushed over. But the moment I reached the door of the principal’s office, I heard a woman’s shrill, abusive screaming. “You little mongrel! How dare you hit my son? You really are a bastard with no upbringing. I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget!” Smack. Smack. Two sharp slaps rang out, followed immediately by a heart-wrenching wail. That was my son, Leo. She had slapped him across the face. I heard the teacher’s voice, trembling but trying to intervene. “Mrs. Miller, you can’t just hit a child! Leo’s mother will be here any minute. We need to talk this out civilly. Please, stop!” The woman hadn’t vented enough anger yet. She turned and snapped at the teacher. “I pay a fortune to send my son here, and this is how you protect him? Letting him get beaten by trash? My son is precious royalty compared to these peasants. Today, I’m not just going after this little bastard’s parents; I’m coming after your school too!” I couldn’t listen to another second. I kicked the door open and stormed in. Leo was sitting on the floor, clutching his face, sobbing uncontrollably. Standing over him was a chubby kid with a smug, malicious grin. Beside the fat kid was a woman dressed in gaudy, expensive clothes, waving her manicured claws and berating everyone in sight. The teacher stood to the side, looking awkward and helpless. And then there was the man. He stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching the scene with a face devoid of emotion. “Leo!” I shouted, scooping my son up from the floor. Leo buried his face in my chest, his cries growing louder as he choked out, “Mommy, Mommy…” I looked up, my eyes locking onto the woman. She didn’t back down. In fact, seeing me seemed to fuel her rage. She pointed a finger right at my nose. “So, you’re the mother of this little animal? How exactly are you raising him? Look at my son’s face! He scratched him! I demand an explanation right now, or I swear I won’t let you leave this room.” I stared at her, my eyes burning with such intensity that she actually faltered and took a step back. “Honey!” she shrieked, turning to the man. “Look at this bitch! She’s glaring at me! Get over here and beat her up for me!” The man was staring at me. Intently. He hadn’t said a word. When I finally turned my gaze to him, I froze. I hadn’t recognized him in my rush to get to Leo. His hair was styled differently, he was wearing a suit I’d never seen, but there was no mistaking him. I instantly understood the dynamic in the room. That was my ex-husband, Mark. 2 I had only glanced at him when I burst in, but now the reality settled in. I stood up slowly, pulling Leo behind me, and looked straight at the woman. “Did you just hit my son?” Emboldened by her husband’s presence, she puffed out her chest. “That’s right, I hit him. He dared to touch my son, so I touched him. A little bastard born to a slu—” Smack! Before she could finish the word, my hand connected hard with her cheek. The room went dead silent. Everyone froze. No one expected me to get physical. The woman’s face twisted in shock, and she opened her mouth to scream a stream of profanities. Smack! I backhanded her across the other cheek before she could make a sound. “You gave my son two slaps,” I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline but icy calm. “Now I’ve returned them. We’re even. Now, we can talk about what actually happened.” The woman hadn’t expected me to be this ferocious. She was too scared to hit back, so she turned to her husband, screeching, “Mark! Kill her! Beat this bitch to death! She hit me! Even my mother has never hit me!” But Mark didn’t move. His expression was a storm of conflict, his eyes darting between me and the floor. I ignored them both and turned to the teacher. “Ms. Hayes, what exactly happened?” Ms. Hayes exhaled a long breath and explained the situation. Leo and the woman’s son, Tyler, were playing separately. For no apparent reason, the chubby kid, Tyler, walked over and shoved Leo hard, knocking him to the ground. Leo landed on his tailbone and started crying from the pain. Instead of apologizing, Tyler pointed and laughed, chanting that Leo was a “bastard with no daddy” and that he deserved to be bullied. He ran around the classroom clapping his hands and announcing to everyone that Leo didn’t have a father. Leo, pushed to his limit, chased him down and scratched Tyler’s face in retaliation. It was a conflict between toddlers. But for a child that young to use such specific, hateful language meant he heard it at home. The parenting was clearly rotten to the core. Because Tyler’s family was wealthy, this woman—Tiffany—had stormed in with her nose in the air. She didn’t ask questions; she just slapped my son. After hearing the full story, I turned back to Tiffany. Seeing the look in my eyes, she flinched and took another two steps back behind Mark, terrified I would strike again. Finally, Mark stepped forward. 3 “Sarah… Leo’s mom,” Mark stammered, correcting himself. “This… this was definitely Tyler’s fault. I apologize on his behalf. Kids will be kids, they don’t know any better. We adults shouldn’t take it too personally. Look, you’ve hit her, she hit him… let’s just call it even and move on, alright?” Tiffany couldn’t believe her ears. She grabbed Mark’s arm. “No way! She assaulted me! I’m calling the police. I want her arrested!” Mark grabbed her wrist and yanked her down. “Enough! Stop making a scene. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough today?” Tiffany looked at her husband, then at me, her face contorting with jealousy. “Oh, I see. She’s pretty, isn’t she? You see a pretty face and suddenly you lose your spine? She slapped your wife right in front of you and you do nothing? Are you even a man?” Mark shook her hand off his arm with disgust. He walked over and crouched down in front of my son. “Hey there, little guy. You’re Leo, right? Does it still hurt?” I grabbed Leo by the shoulders and yanked him back. “Don’t touch my son.” Mark stood up, looking weary. “Sarah, let’s just drop it. Dragging this out won’t be good for anyone. The kids are watching.” I held Leo’s hand tight. “I hope this is the last time. If anything like this ever happens again, I won’t let any of you off the hook—adults or children.” I turned and walked out with Leo. Behind me, I could hear Tiffany’s wailing. “Mark, you coward! You can’t protect your own wife! You’re staring at her ass as she walks away, aren’t you? You cheater!” Then Mark’s voice, sharp and angry: “You are completely irrational. Hopeless. Get in the car before you humiliate us further.” I never imagined my son and Mark’s son would end up in the same preschool. I had cut all ties years ago. Running into him like this was a nightmare. The next day, I pulled Leo out of that school and transferred him to a new one across town. I thought that would be the end of it. But ten days later, Mark found me. 4 I was at the gate of Leo’s new kindergarten when Mark appeared, stepping out of the shadows as if he’d been waiting for me. I frowned instantly. “What do you want?” He sighed, a sound meant to evoke pity. “Sarah, why did you transfer him?” “We’re divorced,” I snapped. “Don’t call me Sarah like we’re friends. It makes me sick. If people hear you, they might misunderstand. Since we cut ties, stay out of my life. Where I send my son to school is none of your business.” “Sarah, are you still blaming me?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know I wronged you back then, but I had no choice. It was the situation. But look at me now. I’ve recovered. Everything is under my control. I can divorce Tiffany. We can get back together.” I laughed, harsh and dry. “Stop right there.” “I have self-respect. Once a traitor, always a traitor. We have no destiny together. I don’t care how much money or control you have now. If you keep harassing me, I’ll call the police.” “Sarah, do you really have to be this cruel?” He reached out to grab my arm. I shook him off violently. “Mark, watch yourself! There are people everywhere. Don’t make me beat you up right here on the sidewalk.” Mark sighed and stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. Then, he asked the question that had clearly been burning a hole in his mind. “Is Leo my son?” My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face like stone. “You’re delusional. Would I have a child for a man who betrayed me? He’s my son. Not yours.” “I don’t believe you!” His eyes narrowed. “His age matches up perfectly with Tyler’s. You must have been pregnant when you left me. Leo is mine, isn’t he?” “Don’t flatter yourself,” I sneered. “I admit, I was heartbroken when we split. But that heartbreak didn’t make me want your baby. It made me reckless. I went to a club that night and slept with a gigolo. That’s how I got Leo. So no, he isn’t yours.” Mark shook his head frantically. “You’re lying just to hurt me. You have emotional OCD. You wouldn’t even date a guy who had too many ex-girlfriends, let alone sleep with a random hooker. You would never stoop that low.” I looked him dead in the eye. “People change. You changed into a cheater. Why couldn’t I change into someone who enjoys a one-night stand?” Mark looked at the resolve in my eyes. He realized he wasn’t getting anywhere today. He slumped his shoulders. “I’ll come see you and the boy again.” “If you dare show your face in front of me again,” I warned, “I won’t hold back. I’ll knock your teeth out.” Mark didn’t reply. He turned and walked away. He left, but my mind was in chaos.

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My best friend and I married into the same powerful family on the same day—I married the uncle, Mike Pei, and she married his nephew, Adrian. At the wedding, our fathers were brutally beaten by bodyguards. We begged Mike and Adrian to stop, but Mike accused them of harassing his beloved Elara. I insisted it was a misunderstanding, but he called me a liar. Defeated, I knelt and apologized to Elara. My friend was slapped by Adrian and blamed for ruining everything. We rushed our fathers to the hospital, but it was too late. The wedding cost us our families and futures. Overcome with regret, we tried to leave—but they came after us. 1 The light above the emergency room door went dark. My father and my best friend’s father were wheeled out, covered in white sheets. The moment the doctor shook his head, my best friend and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing into each other’s arms. Nurses hurried past us, their voices low but clear. “Did you hear? The Pei family is paying millions to have the hospital’s top psychiatrist treat their precious Elara’s trauma.” “I heard she was harassed by two old men at the wedding.” The words struck me like a physical blow. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood that dripped silently onto the polished floor. Elara Jiang. The woman Mike and Adrian had always loved but could never have. And the monster responsible for our fathers’ deaths. At the wedding, Elara’s screams had drawn everyone’s attention. We’d rushed over to find our fathers cornering her against a wall. She was a picture of distress—tear-streaked, the collar of her dress pulled down to her shoulder, her skirt hiked up in disarray as she struggled to break free from their grasp. The guests gasped. Mike and Adrian exploded with rage. They didn’t give our fathers a chance to explain. They just ordered the bodyguards to attack. My friend and I knelt at their feet, pleading, telling them those were our fathers, begging them to stop. But Elara just cried harder. “I already gave Mike and Adrian to you. Why won’t you leave me alone? Why did you have to hire two old men to assault me?” “They even took pictures… Are you claiming they’re your fathers just to protect them? To get those photos and ruin my reputation?” That sealed it. Mike and Adrian were convinced we were lying. They forced us to watch as our fathers were beaten unconscious. By the time they reached the hospital, there was nothing to be done. A wedding had become a funeral. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a video, sent from the wedding photographer who had caught it by chance. In the clip, Elara deliberately mussed her own clothes before throwing herself into our fathers’ arms, clinging to them so they couldn’t push her away. A second later, she started screaming. My vision went red. I looked up and saw her across the hall, being coddled by Mike and Adrian like a precious jewel. Rage surged through me, a hot, blinding wave. I charged toward them, my eyes burning. “Elara, you liar! It was all an act! You set it all up!” Mike stepped in front of me, his eyes cold with impatience. “Sienna, when are you going to stop this nonsense?” “If you hadn’t hired those men to attack Elara, the wedding would never have been canceled. You brought this on yourselves.” The mixture of disappointment and anger in his eyes was a dagger to my heart. Tears streamed down my face. I held out my phone, playing the video for him. “Mike, I didn’t do this. Please, you have to believe me.” Elara’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and she let out a soft sob. “Sienna… you even forged a video just to frame me…” Seeing Elara’s wounded expression, Mike and Adrian’s faces softened with pity. Mike snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor. He then slapped me, his voice dripping with disgust. “Sienna Yang, you are the most vile, venomous woman I have ever met. You sicken me.” I stared at him in disbelief, the blood freezing in my veins. My best friend was draped over her father’s body, her cries echoing in the sterile hallway. “Our fathers are dead, don’t you understand? Elara killed them! Why won’t you believe us?” Annoyed by her wailing, Adrian strode over and kicked the gurney, sending it rattling against the wall. “What an act,” he sneered. “You almost had me believing they were really your fathers.” He kicked my father’s covered body. “Stop playing dead. Tell us how much these two paid you to harass Elara and put on this little show.” When there was no response, a vicious glint entered his eye, and he kicked again, and again. “NO!” I screamed, my eyes bloodshot, and threw myself over my father’s body to protect him. Adrian’s boot slammed into my back with such force that I nearly vomited blood. Mike’s brow furrowed for a split second. But Elara spoke first, her voice a gentle balm. “Mike, Adrian, please don’t be angry with them because of me. I’m just an outsider. It’s okay if I’m treated unfairly. I’m sure Sienna and her friend won’t do something like this again.” Adrian’s face was a mask of fury. “They dare to have a ‘next time’?” Mike’s expression darkened. “Elara, you are not an outsider.” “And don’t worry. Once you’ve recovered, I will make them pay for what happened today.” His cold, menacing gaze sent a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, the pain sharpening my senses. My voice trembled. “I’m not marrying you.” My friend looked at Adrian with utter despair. “I’m not marrying you either.” For a moment, their expressions flickered. Then, indifference settled back in, as if they were certain we’d come crawling back. “Suit yourself,” Mike said coolly. Adrian scoffed. “You were the ones begging to get married, not me.” With that, they escorted Elara away, brushing past us without another glance. The moment they were gone, my friend’s tears started anew. I gently wiped them away, my own heart aching. We were from ordinary families. The Peis of the capital were a world away, a dynasty we could never have touched. But we had saved Mrs. Pei’s life by chance. She was Mike’s mother, Adrian’s grandmother. She was the one who had arranged our marriages. I had felt that Mike liked me, at least a little. But that affection was meaningless next to Elara, his first love who had just returned from abroad. In fact, that affection had cost me the only family I had left. And against the power of the Pei family, we couldn’t even get justice for our own fathers. I held my friend close. “Let’s go. Let’s get as far away from them as we can.” We took our fathers to the funeral home to be cremated. With their ashes in hand, we went to the Pei family estate to see Mrs. Pei one last time. Seeing us standing there, holding the urns of our fathers, her voice caught in her throat. Any words of apology for her son and grandson died on her lips. She took our hands, and after a long moment, she spoke, her voice bitter with regret. “I’m so sorry.” “The Pei family is prepared to compensate you.” I gave a hollow laugh. “Mrs. Pei, please, just let us go.” Her expression was complicated. In the end, she returned the marriage contracts to us. The Peis were a traditional family of old money. A legal marriage certificate meant less than a formal pact, acknowledged by the head of the family. I remembered how Mike and Adrian, to show their sincerity, had written the vows in their own blood, a symbol of a bond that transcended life and death. They had been sincere then. But that sincerity was a fleeting illusion, a mirage that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Now, without these contracts, they were free. After returning to our rooms, we changed out of our wedding dresses. As we were packing, Mike and Adrian returned. With Elara. Mike’s eyes fell on the suitcase at my feet, and his face darkened. “Where do you think you’re going?” “I haven’t settled the score with you for what you did to Elara.” I ignored him, taking my friend’s hand and walking toward the door. I knew nothing we said would change their minds. I just wanted to escape this suffocating place. As we reached the door, Elara’s plaintive voice drifted over. “Mike, Adrian, if they don’t want to apologize, don’t force them. I don’t want you fighting with them because of me again.” The words had their intended effect. Adrian slammed the door in our faces and locked it. My heart seized. Mike’s gaze hardened, a glacial coldness radiating from his eyes. “Get on your knees. Apologize to Elara.” His command was a blade that carved a hole in my chest, the pain making it impossible to breathe. Adrian didn’t even bother to speak. He kicked the back of my friend’s knees, forcing her to the floor in front of Elara. Before I could react, Mike grabbed a fistful of my hair. The searing pain in my scalp blinded me. When I could finally breathe again, I was kneeling like a lamb for slaughter before the woman who had murdered my father. Elara leaned in close, her words a poison whispered in our ears. “Did you know? You killed your own fathers.” Our eyes shot wide. She smiled. “They didn’t die from the beating.” “Mike and Adrian decided they weren’t worthy of being saved. They ordered the doctors to stop the surgery. They let them bleed out on the table.” “Can you imagine what that was like? Lying there, conscious, feeling your own life drain away?” “It’s all your fault. You two daughters sent your own fathers to hell.” The color drained from my face. My best friend completely shattered. With a wild scream, she launched herself at Elara, slapping and clawing at her. “You’re a monster!” Elara didn’t fight back, just collapsed into a heap of sobs. Everyone was stunned. Adrian reacted first, kicking my friend away. Mike gathered Elara into his arms, cooing and comforting her. Adrian tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. Seeing the red handprints on her face, his own face contorted with rage. He spun around, grabbed my friend by the hair, and yanked her head back. “I’ve been too good to you,” he snarled. “And it’s made you bold.” SMACK! “That was for being born without a heart.” SMACK! “That was for being a woman who would destroy another woman’s honor.” SMACK! “And that was for all the times you’ve schemed against Elara…” My friend’s face swelled, becoming a grotesque mask of bruises. But Adrian didn’t stop. I tried to help her, but Mike held me back. The relentless sound of the slaps echoed in the room, a hammer pounding against my heart, making my entire body tremble. One hundred slaps. My friend finally went limp, blood trickling from her mouth as she collapsed against a suitcase, unconscious. The fall knocked her marriage contract onto the floor. Only then did Elara speak. “Adrian, stop. I didn’t want to make things worse.” “But they are your fiancées, chosen by Mrs. Pei. With that status, they feel they can do anything to me without consequence.” “It’s better to be clear today, so they won’t bother me again.” Mike’s face was stone. “Elara, if they were capable of listening to reason, they wouldn’t have targeted you again and again.” “They think being my fiancée gives them power? Fine. I’ll make sure she never gets to be my wife.” He snatched the marriage contract from my luggage. In front of my eyes, he set it on fire. He grabbed my chin, his eyes like chips of ice. “From now on, you’re nothing but a kept woman. A pet. Do you understand?” The ashes of our contract drifted into my eyes, extinguishing the last flicker of love I ever had for him. Fine. Without that paper, we were both free. Adrian, following his uncle’s lead, burned his contract with my friend as well. Numbly, I helped my friend to her feet as she stirred, my expression blank. “Can we go now?” Mike’s eyes darkened for a moment. “Where will you go?” Adrian just waved us away impatiently. “Let them go, uncle. They’ll come crawling back on their own.” Their condescending smirks met a dead, silent pool in my heart. We will never come back. I stumbled out, supporting my friend. As we passed Elara, I spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “You think you’ve won? You think you can marry into the Pei family now?” “You will never be anything more than a dirty little secret.” A flash of anger crossed her face. I took my friend and left the Pei estate. We found a clinic to patch up our injuries. Even hearing that Adrian had burned their contract, my friend’s face remained blank. Neither of us had ever imagined our wedding day would become our fathers’ funeral. We had both lost our mothers when we were young. Our fathers were all we had. Now, all we wanted was to bring them home. We took their ashes back to our hometown and began preparing for their burial. Even far from the city, news of the Peis reached us. Mike and Adrian publicly bidding against each other for jewelry that Elara admired. Tabloids publishing stories of the three of them living together. Paparazzi photos of Elara kissing Mike one day, and Adrian the next. None of it touched me. My heart was numb. I focused only on the funeral. But on the day we were to bury our fathers’ ashes, Mike and Adrian found us. They arrived like a storm. “Come back with me,” Mike demanded. “I need you to tell my mother that I have no intention of marrying Elara. I’m only being kind to her because I owe her.” I gave him a dead-eyed stare. Mrs. Pei despised Elara. Years ago, Mike and Adrian had nearly destroyed each other fighting over her. It was Mrs. Pei who had sent Elara abroad to end it. Now that the scandal was public, they were afraid of history repeating itself. They needed us as a shield to protect Elara. I used to love him enough to endure any humiliation. Now, I just found my past self pathetic. I turned away, muttering, “Get lost.” My friend, however, found her voice. “Isn’t everything in the papers true? If you have nothing to hide, why don’t you explain it to Mrs. Pei yourselves?” “Besides, we have nothing to do with you. You’re both CEOs, used to getting your way. Are you really so shameless that you have to cling to us now?” Adrian snapped first. “If my grandmother didn’t only trust your word, do you think we’d be here?” “Just come back with us. Do this one thing, and we’ll allow you to move back in.” His tone was one of magnanimous charity. They had no idea that Mrs. Pei had already investigated everything. Seeing my continued silence, Mike’s face hardened. “Sienna, how long are you going to keep this act up?” “I promise you, we can have another wedding. Didn’t your father say it was a custom in your hometown to have a ceremony here as well? Fine. I agree.” “If you’re worried, we can do it right now.” “But after the wedding, you are coming back to the Pei estate with me.” At the mention of my father, a hot rage surged through my veins. I stopped what I was doing and spun on him. “You have no right to even say his name! I’ve told you a hundred times, my father is dead! Elara killed him. You both killed him! You’re murderers!” Mike’s brow creased in annoyance. “What is wrong with you? Do you think your father would want to hear you cursing him like this?” Adrian sneered. “He must have been a real sinner to have a daughter who wishes him dead.” I didn’t want to argue anymore. I raised the shovel in my hands. “Get out! Today is my father’s funeral. Don’t you dare disturb his peace.” Mike’s patience was gone. He glared at the fresh graves. “You’d rather attend some pathetic funeral than have your own wedding?” Before I could react, he snatched the shovel from my hands and plunged it into my father’s grave. Adrian followed his lead, grabbing my friend’s shovel and starting to dig. I screamed, and we lunged at them, but their bodyguards held us back. We were forced to watch as they desecrated the graves we had dug with our own hands, exposing the simple porcelain urns that held our fathers’ ashes. With cold sneers, they smashed the urns before our eyes. A cloud of dark ash scattered in the wind. The shock was too much. My best friend fainted in my arms. Mike strode toward me, looking down his nose at me. “Be smart. Come back with me now. Don’t force me to prepare a grave for your living father.” Just then, the village elder came running toward us with the police. “Who are you people? How dare you desecrate Sienna’s father’s grave! You’re breaking the law!”

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The day I flew back home, my best friend’s girlfriend cornered me, her eyes burning with hostility. “So, you’re the one that got away, huh? His old flame. I’ll give you this, you’re pretty. But now that he has me, I guess that makes you… what? Just a boring old memory.” I tried to explain that I was just one of the guys, a friend, but she wouldn’t let it go. “Oh, I’ve seen your type before. The ‘cool girl’ who plays the ‘just one of the guys’ card so you can flirt without any consequences.” “Honey, have some self-respect. Don’t be some cheap tramp everyone’s had a piece of.” I was completely floored. What the hell was a “cool girl” act? I’m a guy. A 100% genuine, bona fide guy. 1 The door to the private dining room swung open just as I sat down. Leo walked in with his arm around a woman in a slinky red dress. “Brian! You’re finally back!” Zack clapped me on the shoulder. “Let me introduce you. This is Leo’s girlfriend, Lily.” Lily’s eyes roamed over me, top to bottom, and then her brow furrowed. “Leo, is this the ‘old flame’ you’re always talking about? You’ve got a pretty face, I’ll give you that, but your style is so… androgynous. Neither here nor there.” My hand, holding a teacup, paused mid-air. I looked up and smiled. “An old flame? That’s a new one on me. I didn’t know I had that title.” “Don’t play dumb,” she scoffed, sliding in next to Leo and draping an arm over his shoulder. “Leo has pictures of you on his phone. Calls you his ‘best friend.’ Sounds more like some unfinished business to me.” Zack quickly tried to smooth things over. “Lily, you’ve got it all wrong. Brian is one of our brothers…” “Brother?” Lily let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “What kind of woman runs around calling a bunch of guys her ‘brothers’? I see what this is. You’re a ‘cool girl,’ using that face to string guys along, keeping Leo on the back burner.” I set my teacup down and leaned forward. “Miss Lily, first, I’m not stringing anyone along. Second, this ‘cool girl’ you’re talking about… is it possible you’re just so insecure you see a rival in everyone?” “Are you trying to insult me?” Lily shot up, slamming her hand on the table. “I’m warning you, stay away from Leo! Don’t think that pretty face gives you a pass to be a homewrecker!” “Homewrecker?” I raised an eyebrow. “Leo is your boyfriend, not mine. Whether I stay away from him or not is none of your business. But you, on the other hand, attacking me the second we meet? That’s just a stunning lack of class.” Leo tugged on Lily’s arm. “Lily, stop it. Brian really is my friend…” “Friend?” She yanked her arm away. “She’s a woman! Thinks she can fool everyone by wearing a button-down and a short haircut? It’s all an act to get your sympathy so she can snatch other people’s boyfriends!” I pulled out my driver’s license and slapped it on the table. “Why don’t you see for yourself? The little box next to ‘Sex’ says ‘Male’.” Lily glanced at it for a fraction of a second before whipping her head away. “An ID doesn’t prove anything! It could be fake! A girl like you would do anything to get a man.” “You look all prim and proper, but underneath you’re just a cheap tramp.” Zack couldn’t take it anymore. “Lily, that’s way out of line. Brian just got back in the country. What is your problem?” “My problem?” Lily put her hands on her hips. “My problem is trying to get you guys to see her for who she really is! You’re all being fooled by her looks!” I let out a cold laugh. “Miss Lily, instead of wasting your breath psychoanalyzing me, maybe you should keep a tighter leash on your own boyfriend. After all, turning his best friend into some romantic rival… with an imagination like that, it’s a shame you’re not writing novels.” 2 “Don’t you dare get sarcastic with me!” Lily glared, stabbing her fork into the plate with a clatter. “You’re just jealous that Leo and I are so happy, so you’re trying to stir up trouble!” Leo looked mortified. “Brian, come on. Lily’s young. Don’t stoop to her level.” “Youth isn’t an excuse for having no brain,” I said calmly, taking a bite of food. “I came back to catch up with my friends, not to be screamed at by a stranger for no reason.” “Who’s screaming?” Lily’s voice shot up, drawing stares from the next table. “I’m warning you! Don’t think you can push your luck just because Leo has a soft spot for the past. He’s mine now, so you can just give up!” Zack frowned. “Lily, can you please just talk normally? Brian is a guy. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Why can’t you believe us?” “I don’t believe you!” Lily pointed a finger at me. “Look at him! Delicate skin, soft voice… besides the clothes, what part of him looks like a man? You’re all in on it together, trying to give Leo an excuse to keep his side piece around!” “Side piece?” I put down my fork and met her gaze. “Miss Lily, don’t you think you’re overestimating your own importance? Even if Leo were looking for a backup, don’t you think he’d find someone with a bit more sense than you?” “Are you saying I don’t have sense?” She leaped to her feet, her finger practically touching my nose. “You little manipulator! Think you’re so clever? Playing the man to sneak into a group of friends, seducing every guy in sight. You’re disgusting!” “Disgusting?” I stood up too, towering over her by a good half a foot. “I didn’t provoke you, I didn’t even look at you, and the first meal I have back home, you unleash this tirade on me. Who’s the disgusting one here?” Leo quickly stepped between us. “Hey, hey, break it up! Brian, I’m sorry. On Lily’s behalf. She just… she cares about me a lot.” “Cares about you?” I laughed. “If she cared about you, she’d respect your friends, not act like a rabid dog. Miss Lily, I’ll tell you one more time: I am a man, and Leo and I are just friends. If you keep this up, don’t blame me for not being polite.” Lily was speechless, her eyes turning red. She looked at Leo, her voice dripping with hurt. “Leo, look at how he’s bullying me!” “Alright, alright,” Leo said, patting her back. “Brian didn’t mean it. Just sit down and eat. Don’t ruin the mood for everyone.” Lily shot me a venomous look and sat back down, muttering under her breath, “Such a phony. You can just tell he’s bad news.” I ignored her and raised my glass to Zack. “Forget her. Let’s drink.” 3 The peace didn’t last long. Lily started up again, her voice laced with poison. “Some people have such thick skin. They can get cursed out and just sit there eating and drinking like nothing happened. No shame at all.” Zack had heard enough. “Lily, that’s it! Brian is our best friend. Can you please show him a little respect?” “Respect him?” Lily snorted. “Why should I respect some ‘cool girl’ wannabe? She deliberately dresses like a man to hang around you guys. Isn’t it obvious she’s trying to seduce you? Zack, has she got her hooks in you too? Is that why you’re defending her?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Zack’s face flushed. “We’re all brothers!” “Brothers?” Lily laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Oh, Zack, don’t kid yourself! What man looks like that? I think you’re just infatuated with her but you’re too afraid to admit it because of your ‘brotherhood’! Have you two already slept together?” My fists clenched. I was done being patient. “Lily, you’ve gone too far! I’ll prove it to you right now…” “Brian!” Leo suddenly grabbed my wrist, his voice a harsh whisper. “Don’t! I’m begging you!” I froze. “Leo, what are you talking about?” “Lily… she has a lot of pride,” he pleaded. “If you actually prove it, she’ll be humiliated. The scene will be even worse. For my sake, as a friend, can you just let it go for a little longer?” “Let it go?” I stared at him. “She’s insulted me every way she can, and you want me to let it go?” Zack chimed in. “Leo, she’s walking all over Brian. How can you still defend her?” “I’m not defending her,” Leo sighed. “I just don’t want to make a bigger scene. I’m… I’m planning on marrying her. Brian, I know this is unfair. I’ll make it up to you later.” Seeing Leo protecting her, Lily became even more brazen. “See? See? Even Leo is on my side! I told you, you’re nothing but a manipulative, two-faced bitch trying to seduce my man!” I was speechless. The dinner ended on that sour note. As we were leaving the restaurant, Leo suddenly said, “Damn, my car won’t start.” Lily immediately turned to me. “Brian, you drove here, right? Perfect. You can give us a ride home.” I raised an eyebrow. “And why would I do that?” “Why?” Lily said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re Leo’s ‘best friend.’ What’s the big deal about giving us a ride? Or are you just bitter you have to see us together?” Leo added, “Come on, Brian, help us out. I’ll buy you dinner next time.” I hesitated, then finally nodded. “Fine. Get in.” The entire ride, Lily deliberately clung to Leo’s arm, whispering in his ear just loud enough for me to hear. “Oh, Leo, you’re so good to me. You’re the best.” “Silly girl. Who else would I be good to?” Leo’s voice was full of affection. Lily glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes landing on my stony expression. “Leo, look at some people. Their face is so long it’s about to hit the floor. Someone’s jealous.” My grip on the steering wheel tightened. I was beyond annoyed. I was just done. 4 “Leo, remember our first date?” Lily cooed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “The necklace you gave me? I wear it every single day.” “Of course I remember,” Leo said with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.” “I bet some people have never had anyone treat them so well,” Lily said, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “After all, who would want an androgynous ‘cool girl’ who can’t decide if she’s a man or a woman?” I took a deep breath and said nothing. In the mirror, Leo shot me a look, mouthing the words, “Please, man. Just hang in there.” I laughed coldly to myself. This was beyond just hanging in there. Lily was pushing every button she could find. “Brian,” Lily said suddenly, her voice sickly sweet. “You’re getting on in years. How come you haven’t found anyone yet? Is it because no one wants you? I guess it must be hard. Men don’t like you, women don’t want to be near you.” “Lily!” Leo said, a weak attempt at a reprimand. “Don’t say that.” “I’m just being honest,” she pouted. “It’s a shame. You have a decent face. Why do you have to be so confused? Pretending to be a man just to get close to other people’s boyfriends.” “Miss Lily,” I finally said, my voice level. “Do you ever think before you speak? Whether I’m seeing someone or not has absolutely nothing to do with you.” “Ooh, finally snapped, did you?” Lily giggled. “I was just joking. Did I hit a nerve?” “A joke?” The veins in my hands stood out as I gripped the steering wheel. “Making jokes about someone’s identity and character. Is that what passes for manners where you come from?” “I never said you had a character problem,” Lily said, feigning innocence. “I just think it’s not a good look for a woman to be hanging around a bunch of men all the time. You should find a nice, simple guy and settle down. Stop trying to steal other people’s boyfriends.” Again, Leo was gesturing at me in the mirror, his eyes begging. “Brian, let it go. She’s just talking.” “Just talking?” I glanced at him. “This is the third time she’s called me a conniving homewrecker. How am I supposed to ‘let it go’?” “Brian, I know you’re upset,” Leo sighed. “But Lily really loves me. She’s just… sensitive. I promise I’ll talk to her when we get home. Just let her have this one, please?” Seeing Leo defend her yet again, Lily’s smirk widened. “You hear that? Leo wants you to back off! So be a good little pet and stop trying to drive a wedge between us. It’s not going to work.” I stopped talking. I just slammed my foot on the accelerator. The car surged forward. All I wanted was to drop these two off and never see them again.

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The System ordered me to seduce the male lead. Halfway through the conquest, he killed the guy. “My hand slipped,” he said, his tone completely indifferent. Me: … Later, he took over the male lead’s body. He unbuttoned his shirt, guiding me to sit on his lap. “Come on. Use everything I taught you. Tease me. Conquer me…” 1 The System has been acting weird lately. He stopped teaching me how to seduce the male lead. My affection score with Sebastian Sterling was stuck at 60. It wouldn’t budge. With Sebastian’s “one that got away,” Sophia, returning from abroad tomorrow, I had to take drastic measures. Plan A: Seduction. That afternoon, I went to Sebastian’s penthouse. I ditched my usual look for the “innocent flower” vibe—a tactic the System taught me years ago. I wore a sexy red slip dress and nestled into Sebastian’s arms. On the sofa, I twirled his tie around my finger, looking at him with dewy eyes. “Sebastian, forget about Sophia. Be with me, okay?” Sophia was his first love. Even though he liked me now, the power of a returning first love is unpredictable. I had to lock this down before she landed. Sebastian stared at me, his gaze darkening. After a long silence, a husky voice filled the air. “I could.” “But… if you want me to forget her, in what capacity are you asking?” His eyes lingered on my chest for a few seconds. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I blushed. “As your girlfriend?” I hooked my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Be my boyfriend, okay?” Sebastian chuckled low in his throat. Clearly, I’d pressed the right buttons. “Beg me.” “Beg me, and I’ll say yes.” His eyes were dark as he gripped my waist. Tighter. It hurt so much I teared up. I bit my lip, crying prettily, just like I practiced. “Please.” A woman’s tears are an aphrodisiac. The harder you cry, the more excited they get. The System taught me that, too. Sure enough, the fire in Sebastian’s eyes roared to life. He threw me onto the bed, his voice rough. “You asked for this.” As he started stripping, I panic-messaged the System in my head. [Hey! Don’t you dare look!] A cold scoff echoed in my brain. What did that mean? He didn’t care to look? Good. They say the first time you sleep together boosts the score massively. I watched a half-naked Sebastian, calculating how many points I’d get tomorrow. Suddenly—THUD. Sebastian hit the floor. Dead. Me: ? I stared in disbelief. I scrambled backward, my voice trembling. [Sys… System?] [What happened to him?!] A beat of silence. Then, a lazy voice in my head: [My hand slipped.] 2 The System’s name is Chase. He spent years teaching me how to bag the hero, step by step. Because of one “slip of the hand,” he took over the male lead’s position, wearing Sebastian’s face. His explanation? “The hero is gone. Someone has to fill the role.” So, he filled it. And now, I have to seduce him. I sat in the corner of the CEO’s office, clutching my skirt so hard it wrinkled. I didn’t dare speak. Why? I was terrified. Yesterday, he waved his hand and Sebastian’s corpse turned into pixels and dissolved into thin air. If I annoyed him, would he delete me too? … Chase finished his work quickly. He tossed the file onto the desk and looked up lazily, looking bored. “Begin.” It was obvious what I had to begin. There are many ways to raise affection scores, but physical intimacy is the most efficient. I hesitated for two seconds, staring at his perfectly shaped lips, and made up my mind. I put my hands on his shoulders, closed my eyes, and kissed him. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t kiss back either. His lips were cold. I kissed him clumsily, putting in way too much effort. After what felt like half an hour, I still hadn’t heard the notification sound for increased affection. Confused, I opened my eyes—and looked straight into Chase’s. Dark, mocking, amused. Like a hunter watching prey struggle. He hadn’t closed his eyes the entire time. My blood ran cold. We stared at each other, and I froze, unsure if I should stop or keep going. He pushed me away, wiping a smudge of blood from his lip where I’d accidentally bitten him. His tone was loose, careless. “Ivy, I’m not Sebastian.” “The tricks you used on him won’t work on me.” “Go home. Think of a better strategy, then come back.” 3 I spent days thinking. Chase doesn’t like aggressive girls. So, he must like the pure, innocent type. I put on a modest white knee-length dress and went to the gala to find him. The hall was packed, glasses clinking, people chatting. I didn’t need to search. He was a natural protagonist. Standing in the center of the crowd, his aura was elegant and imposing. Impossible to ignore. I started walking toward him, but someone blocked my path. Sophia. She swirled a glass of wine in her right hand. She stepped up beside me, her lips curling into a vicious sneer. “Ivy, Sebastian is mine.” I didn’t care who the male lead belonged to. But when I saw her loosening her grip on the wine glass and grabbing my hand to pull herself backward… I knew she was framing me. It was a blind spot for the cameras. It would be her word against mine. In a crisis, I instinctively looked for Chase. He used to help me with everything. Luckily, he looked over right at that moment. Unluckily, he looked amused. He watched me with a smile that screamed I don’t care. My heart sank. I remembered what Chase told me. When he took over the body, he inherited Sebastian’s affection scores. Sebastian’s score for Sophia was 65. For me, it was 60. Chase is a System. He exists to execute rules. Rules are everything. So, he wouldn’t help me. … I had to save myself. In a split second, before Sophia’s glass hit the floor, I grabbed her arm and yanked. I used the momentum to throw myself down. Glass shattered. Shards pierced my calf. Cutting skin, embedding into flesh. It hurt like hell. “Ah!” People gasped. Heads turned. 4 I hit the floor hard, landing right in the debris. Red wine mixed with blood, staining my white dress. The shards felt like razor blades scraping my skin. Burning, stinging pain. Blood trickled down to my ankle and dripped onto the floor. The crowd gathered. These were heavy hitters—titans of industry, new money elites. I saw shock, disgust, and condemnation on their faces… directed at Sophia. Good. If I hadn’t pulled that move, they would be looking at me like that. After all, Sophia is the heiress of the Su Group. I couldn’t afford to be accused of hurting her. Chase walked over. His voice was cold. “What happened?” I had to admit, his acting was flawless. If I didn’t know he wasn’t Sebastian, I’d never have guessed. People rushed to explain the situation to him. Accusing eyes, sharp as knives, fell on Sophia. She panicked, stepping back. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! “It was her! She framed me! She did it on purpose! “Sebastian, you have to believe me, I didn’t push her!” She grabbed Chase’s sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes. Pitiful. Chase looked at me calmly. I don’t know why—maybe intuition—but I sensed he wasn’t happy. His eyes were deep, like a freezing pool of water. Afraid he might side with Sophia, I bit my pale lip, letting my eyes turn red and misty. I looked at him with pure grievance. “Sebastian, don’t blame Sophia. She didn’t mean to. “I… I just lost my balance. Don’t worry about me. “I… I can get up.” I frowned in pain and tried to stand, but my leg gave out. I collapsed back onto the glass. Shards dug deeper. Blood flowed faster. The pain forced actual tears from my eyes. Chase let out a scoff. A mocking smile played on his lips. His voice was unhurried. “Ivy.” “You’re quite clever, aren’t you?” He shook off Sophia’s hand and picked me up. ? I froze. He called me clever? And he’s holding me? Is his affection for me higher than Sophia’s now? I felt a surge of joy. But the next second, my face froze. [Chase’s Affection: -5.] 5 The score was only 60. Now it’s 55. My heart went cold. The score is literally my lifeline. I need 100 to leave this world. The only good news is that scores fluctuate with emotions. The sooner I act, the easier it is to fix. There’s still a chance! … Chase once told me that if the target’s score is over 50 and drops, the most effective remedy is a kiss. The more intense, the faster the recovery. I looked at him desperately. “Can you lower your head?” “No,” Chase said, turning the corner toward the exit. Denied. I didn’t care about the pain anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him frantically. I pried his lips open, demanding a response. I was so rough I tasted iron. Chase’s eyes were cold. He didn’t resist. He even stopped walking to let me do it. I stared into his eyes, kissing him for a full minute. No notification sound. The longer I kissed, the colder I felt. I bit his lip hard. Eventually, the kissing turned into sobbing against his mouth. It’s not working. I can’t seduce him. He lied. “Ahhh! Ivy Shen—” “You slut!” “Get your dirty mouth off him! Don’t touch my Sebastian! Let him go!” Sophia was screaming in the distance, shaking with rage. Everyone was watching us. I didn’t care about them. I only cared about the points. And it was obvious. The points weren’t coming back. I stopped struggling. I let go of Chase, limp with despair. The pain in my leg came rushing back like a tide, burning and throbbing. If I can’t seduce Chase, I can’t leave. If I can’t leave, what’s the point? Maybe I should just buy some pills and end it all. I thought numbly. But the moment the thought formed, it was interrupted. [Chase’s Affection: +5.]

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When the parents of the Male Lead came to the orphanage to adopt, they had a choice. Between the chatty, golden-retriever-energy Female Lead and the quiet, reserved me. They chose me. Suddenly, floating text—like a live stream chat—drifted across my vision. [They picked the mute, fragile side character because she seems easier? Little do they know the Heroine is the only one who can truly save the Male Lead!] [The Male Lead is actually a snake-shifter. He was hurt by humans as a kid, so he became dark and withdrawn. Doesn’t even speak.] [This side character is useless. She tried to suck up to him, but the moment she saw his true form, she cried like a baby.] [Just wait. Once the parents return her for being defective, our cute, chatty Heroine will take the stage!] Snake? I am terrified of snakes. Urged by his parents, the Male Lead hugged me with a blank expression. I was trembling so hard I blurted out, “N-no…” His eyes suddenly lit up. He put on a heartbroken act. “Do you hate me too? Figures. Once people see what I really am, no one likes me…” I squeezed my eyes shut and hugged him back, shaking. “N-no, I… I really like Big Brother.” The floating chat exploded. [Why isn’t he acting all depressed and emo?] [OMG the side character baby is so scared it’s cute! She was literally frightened into speaking!] [The Male Lead has said more words in the last minute than in his entire life just to coax her into talking.] 1 When the prospective parents came to the orphanage, I was quietly massaging the Director’s back. At the Director’s signal, I poured two cups of hot tea and handed them over. Before they could speak, I shyly hid behind the Director. The Mom’s eyes lit up. She started hitting the Dad’s shoulder excitedly. “She’s so good! So well-behaved! This is exactly the daughter I imagined!” The Dad patted her hand soothingly. “Okay, okay, I know. But we have to ask her first.” He looked at me kindly. “Sweetie, how old are you?” My face turned red, and I twisted the hem of my shirt helplessly. The Mom started hitting the Dad again, suppressing a squeal. “So cute~” The Director stepped in to save me. “To be honest, Penny is a good child. Everyone here loves her. It’s just… she can’t speak.” The parents looked at each other, surprised. My heart sank. I lowered my head. Many people had wanted to adopt me before. But once they found out I was mute, they all gave up. This time would be the same. Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway. The door banged open. A teacher rushed in, trying to catch a girl with twin ponytails. “Mia! You little rascal! Give Charlie his hearing aid back!” The girl stuck out her tongue and grinned. “Hi Auntie, hi Uncle, hi Director!” Then she zoomed off again. Rows of text floated across my vision. [Our cute little demon spawn Heroine is here!] [The parents still prefer the quiet mute girl, but the Heroine is the real soulmate who can save the Male Lead.] [The Heroine gets the Male Lead to talk using just a stinky sock! The parents were so happy.] [Hurry up and ditch the useless side character! Take our baby Heroine home!] Reading the text, a sour feeling spread in my chest. These “comments” started appearing about two weeks ago. I was slowly understanding what they meant. Apparently, I was in a story where everyone loved the main character, and I was just cannon fodder. The comments loved comparing me to Mia. Using her liveliness to highlight my dullness. The Director spoke up. “If your son is withdrawn, it might be better to choose a livelier girl to keep him company. I worry Penny might not meet your expectations.” The parents fell silent. I stared at my toes. I was used to this. The Director was just worried I’d be returned if I didn’t fit in, which would only hurt more. The parents huddled together and whispered. Then the Mom made a decision. “So what if she can’t speak? My son doesn’t speak either.” “Exactly. Like father, like son. If we like Penny this much, our son won’t be too bad.” “Worst case, the whole family learns sign language! It’s a new skill!” The Director paused, a look of relief in his eyes. He bent down to look at me, smiling kindly. “So, Penny, would you like to go home with this Auntie and Uncle?” The parents looked nervous. I looked at them, eyes red, and nodded. 2 As soon as we got in the car, Mom hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Yay! I finally have a daughter!” Dad chuckled as he drove. “Hehe, finally don’t have to stare at that bratty son all day.” My face burned. I didn’t dare look at them. Mom… smelled so good. Their house was huge. Beautiful. The housekeeper had a table full of food ready. It was still steaming when we arrived. Sitting at the table was a boy in a white shirt. His features were as exquisite as a painting. Mom and Dad happily pulled me forward to introduce us. The boy glanced at me indifferently, then stood up without a word and went upstairs. The floating text got lively. [The Male Lead is definitely disappointed. The side character is nothing like the sister he wanted.] [He wanted a cute, bubbly girl like Chibi Maruko-chan.] [This girl is too gloomy. She looks like she’s scheming.] [The parents are busy and don’t have time for him. The house is already cold enough.] [Finally gets a sister, and she’s a mute. Of course he’s disappointed.] I froze. My chest felt tight, my eyes stung. It… it’s okay… Afraid of crying and upsetting Mom and Dad, I held it back desperately. It’s normal for a brother to want a better sister… I understand. Mom patted my head apologetically. “Brother has always been shy. Don’t mind him, Penny. It’ll be better once you get to know each other.” Dad said angrily, “So rude. I’ll teach him a lesson later. Penny, are you hungry? Let’s eat first.” Mom added, “Yeah, look, are there any dishes you like?” I looked up and forced a smile at them. Mom and Dad were really gentle… Even if I get sent back later, I want to cherish every day with them. 3 Even though my new brother disliked me, the food was amazing. How could every single dish be so delicious?! I was timid at first, only taking small bites of the dishes and shoveling rice. But Mom and Dad kept putting food in my bowl. “Honey, look at Penny eat. Like a little hamster. So cute.” “I know, right? Watching her makes me hungry.” “Hehe, I’m gonna take a picture and send it to that brat. Make him jealous.” “I’m posting it to the family group chat to make everyone envious!” Thinking I might be sent back tomorrow and never eat this well again… I fought back the sadness, grabbed a drumstick in one hand and a spoon in the other, and went to town! That night, lying in the soft, fragrant bed. I burped happily. Just as I was drifting off, I opened my eyes. In the moonlight, I saw a small black snake on my pillow. It lifted its head, looking at me curiously. My face went pale. I hid under the covers, shaking. Text floated by. [Hehe, is the Male Lead trying to scare her away?] [His true form is a snake. Humans hurt him when he was little, so he became dark and mute.] [This side character is useless. Wanted to suck up to him but cried as soon as she saw the snake.] [If the Heroine hadn’t been picked by that infertile couple two days ago, the side character wouldn’t even be here.] [It’s okay. Once she gets returned, our chaotic demon king Heroine will take her place! Hahaha~] I shook even harder. The text meant— This… this snake… Is my brother? Director Grandpa, I want to go home!!! 4 At breakfast. I was on pins and needles. But I didn’t see my brother the whole time. My nerves finally relaxed. I racked my brain trying to avoid him. Even going to the bathroom was a stealth mission. I held it until I couldn’t anymore. First, I’d crack the door open. Check for “brother” activity. Then tiptoe out. Done. Sprint back to my room. Lying in bed, I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. Safe. Didn’t see the snake. To stop him from slithering under the door, I blocked the gap with books before bed. Windows locked tight. I played it safe for days and didn’t see him. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. But living under the same roof, this couldn’t last. Sure enough, two days later, Mom and Dad brought him to me. To show family unity, they almost forced him to hug me. My face turned red, but I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t speak, and I didn’t want to make them sad. Mom and Dad stood at the bottom of the stairs, beaming with expectation. Urged by them, my brother walked up the stairs expressionlessly, bent down, and opened his arms. I was shaking, so scared I blurted out, “N-no…” His eyes suddenly lit up. Like he found something interesting. He studied me for a long time. Then he leaned in and whispered. His voice was raspy, like he hadn’t used it in ages. “You can talk?” I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head frantically. He looked at me, a strange light in his eyes. The chat was shocked. [I’m more surprised than the Male Lead. She can talk?] [Why didn’t she speak before?] [Did you guys forget? She could always talk. She just had psychological trauma.] [Her mom had her out of wedlock, then remarried. Hid her in the basement so the new husband wouldn’t know. Forbade her to make a sound.] [One time she got scared by a rat and cried. The husband found out and dumped the mom.] [The mom blamed her, said she ruined her happiness, and dumped her at the orphanage.] [Since then, she never spoke. She thought her mom abandoned her because she made noise.] [She’s a pitiful baby too.] Reading the text, I lowered my head. Nose stinging, eyes burning. But I held it in.

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“If you could live your life over, would you still marry your wife?” “No.” That was the answer Zeke Crawford, age 47, gave during a media interview. Overnight, it went viral. The marriage I had carefully nurtured for twenty years, the greatest achievement of my life, was shattered into a ridiculous farce by that single word. Trapped and humiliated, I was contemplating my next move when a car crash sent us hurtling back in time, back to the year we first met. I was 24. We were at a formal meeting arranged by our families, a prelude to a merger-masquerading-as-marriage. Suddenly, Zeke stood up, cutting his mother off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, Miss Astor,” he said, his voice firm, “but I have a girlfriend. We’re done here.” My expression didn’t flicker. As he turned and strode toward the door, I called out to his retreating back. “Then, Mr. Crawford, I suppose this is goodbye for good.” His footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. He didn’t turn around. He just quickened his pace and walked out of my life. 01 My new morning routine began with yoga in the courtyard, followed by feeding the koi in our pond. After a slow, leisurely breakfast, I finally picked up my phone. As expected, it was flooded with messages. Inquiries, expressions of concern, morbid curiosity, and of course, those who were just here to watch the spectacle unfold. I knew this would happen the moment Zeke’s interview aired last night. It wasn’t surprising. As a titan in the world of high finance, his personal conduct had always been an anomaly. He didn’t smoke or drink, never gambled, and steered clear of scandals. In every public appearance, at every event, the only woman the cameras ever captured by his side was me, his legitimate wife. Over time, the legend of Zeke Crawford and his devoted wife became a celebrated tale in our circle—a story of deep love and perfect harmony. But now, on the cusp of fifty, he had personally confessed to the world that our two decades of marriage were, for him, a source of profound regret. What a regret, indeed. 02 After two days, with neither of the involved parties making a statement, the media frenzy began to die down. But Zeke never offered me a single word of explanation. It seemed my feelings weren’t a factor in his considerations. For a woman of my standing, being tactful and understanding the bigger picture were basic requirements. I had always played my part perfectly. But now, a rebellious spark I hadn’t felt in years ignited within me. In the car on the way to a gala, I was the one to break the heavy silence. “It’s Gwen, isn’t it?” I kept my voice even. “She’s back, so you’re desperate to prove something.” He was reviewing a financial report. At my words, the index finger resting on his tailored trousers curled involuntarily. It was a minuscule movement, but after years of sharing a life, I knew it was a tell. He was guilty. So it really was Gwen. What a romantic fool he was. The ghost of a first love, a flame that had burned in his heart for so many years, undying and brilliant. And me? I wasn’t even a bloodstain on the wall. Just a decorative piece, a wife he’d married out of familial duty. He heard my soft, derisive laugh and finally turned to face me. “Ari, don’t overthink it. This has nothing to do with anyone else.” God, I hated that placid, unreadable face of his. It made everything I did, everything I felt, seem like a childish tantrum. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s not just anyone. She’s the love of your life. My mistake, for being the placeholder for twenty years.” His brow furrowed, and he let out a sigh of weary resignation. He placed his large, warm hand over mine, a classic maneuver to deflect and pacify. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can go home. We don’t have to attend the gala tonight.” But I was done being placated. “So, it is because of her, isn’t it? Because of Gwen, you can’t even be bothered to grant me the slightest bit of public decency anymore.” “Ariadne! Stop it.” He cut me off, his voice dropping low, laced with annoyance. I knew that tone. When a man starts evading the question, you’ve hit a nerve. But my patience had reached its absolute limit. I ripped my hand from his grasp and, with all the force I could muster, I slapped him across the face. I had wanted to do that for a very, very long time. “Let’s get a divorce, Zeke!” My voice was a raw, ragged thing. “I am so sick and tired of you!” “If there really is a next life, I would never marry you again! I would rather have died at twenty-four than ever have met you!” His head snapped to the side from the unexpected blow. He turned back slowly, his eyes wide with a dazed sort of shock. “What did you just say?” What did I say? Are you deaf? Of course, you’re an expert at playing deaf and dumb. It didn’t matter anymore. We were getting a divorce. An end to this absurd, laughable marriage. You don’t have to wait for the next life, Zeke. In this one, you can finally be with whoever you want. … “Watch out!” … CRUNCH! … The last thing I remember before darkness took me was the image of Zeke lunging toward me. It was seared into my memory because I had never, ever seen such a vivid, terrified expression on his face. So much so that when I awoke at that fateful meeting at age 24, my first instinct was to ask him: Why? When death was upon us, why did you throw yourself in front of me? 03 But Zeke moved faster than my thoughts could form. He shot to his feet, interrupting his mother’s carefully prepared introduction. His deep-set eyes found mine across the table. “I’m sorry, Miss Astor, but I have a girlfriend. We’re done here.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving both our families sitting in stunned, humiliated silence. I knew, in that instant. He was back, too. Fate was truly kind to him. Handsome, wealthy. And now, a second chance at life. I laughed at myself, at my own foolish sentimentality. And I laughed because, thanks to him, I was 24 again. Just before he reached the door, I called out to him. “Then, Mr. Crawford, I suppose this is goodbye for good.” He paused for a beat, but didn’t look back. He just walked out. This time, he would go find his one true love. And I… I would finally live for myself—wildly, passionately, and freely. No longer would I be the one to trade my ambitions for an apron. No longer the dutiful wife of Mr. So-and-so. And never again would I be a beautiful, docile accessory on a man’s arm. 04 With my life reset, my days became a whirlwind of fulfilling activity. I was busy prepping my application for Oxford, busy launching my own artisanal coffee shop. Busy raising a dog and taking my cat for walks. Freed from the rush to marry, I discovered the vast, liberating world outside the gilded cage. In that first year, Zeke and I never crossed paths. I didn’t seek out news of him, but our world was small. The same people, the same stories, always circling back. I heard he followed Gwen to the States. I heard his father, the patriarch of the Crawford family, was furious and stripped him of all his positions at the family corporation. I heard he returned with Gwen and started his own investment firm. And I heard he was planning a grand proposal. Good for him. The difference between being loved and not being loved was starkly, painfully obvious. 05 Gwen had been coming to my coffee shop for several days in a row. Each time, she would order a single cup and sit for hours at a corner table by the window. I could occasionally feel her gaze on me, sizing me up. But the 24-year-old Ariadne Astor had no reason to know a Gwen. If she wasn’t going to make the first move, I wasn’t going to acknowledge her. She was, after all, paying customer. On the fifth day, during a quiet afternoon, she finally approached the counter. She tapped her manicured nails on the polished wood. “Miss Astor. We need to talk.” The last person who spoke to me with that tone was my boss during my internship. She certainly had my attention. I raised an eyebrow, but my hands didn’t stop polishing a glass. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.” A few minutes later, I brought a freshly brewed coffee over to her table. “Try this. It’s a unique blend, not on the menu. You might like it.” She looked surprised. “You know who I am?” Of course I did. In our previous life, I had probably spent more time secretly looking at the photograph of her tucked away in Zeke’s books than he ever did. I knew about the tiny, almost invisible mole above her left eyebrow. I nodded and pointed to my own eyes. “You’ve been sitting in that exact spot for five days.” She gave a tight smile, taking a sip of the coffee to hide her awkwardness. Her brow furrowed, and she quickly put the cup down. It was probably too bitter for her. She dispensed with the pleasantries. Reaching into her designer bag, she pulled out a checkbook, wrote out a blank check, and slid it across the table. “Name your price, Miss Astor. To stay away from Zeke.” I was speechless. Her methods were surprisingly similar to Zeke’s. I picked up the check with both hands, studying it with mock seriousness. Since she was offering, it would be rude to refuse. Now, what number to write… I picked up the pen and scribbled a string of digits, then pushed it back to her. It wasn’t that much. Zeke would just have to work a little harder. As I recalled, in about five years, he should be able to afford it. In twenty years, he could probably multiply it by a hundred. 06 Her face darkened as she read the number on the check. “Miss Astor, your appetite is a little… excessive, don’t you think?” I feigned innocence. “Is it? I thought it was rather reasonable.” “A hundred million dollars! You have some nerve!” She was so easily shocked. “I’d have the nerve to ask for a billion, too.” My gaze rested on her beautiful, delicate face. She was undeniably stunning, with an air of defiant confidence. I picked up my own cup and took a slow, appreciative sip. She had no idea what she was missing. I rarely brought out beans of this quality. Not because they were expensive, but because the yield was incredibly low. In my last life, Zeke had been a coffee aficionado with a ridiculously picky palate. Nothing bought from a store ever met his standards. I spent years studying his preferences, experimenting with hundreds of beans from different origins, and adjusting the roasting methods countless times. Finally, one day, I earned a single nod of approval from him. For the next twenty years, brewing his coffee became my daily ritual. Thinking of the past left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no energy to play games with the woman in front of me anymore. “You should go,” I said flatly. “I have nothing to do with Zeke Crawford. We had one disastrous arranged meeting where he made it clear he wasn’t interested in me.” Her composure cracked. “Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Astor!” she snapped. “If there’s nothing between you, then why does he call out your name when he’s drunk?” “I don’t know when you two got involved, but I suggest you show some self-respect. Zeke and I have been together for four years. We are getting married.” I… I must have owed Zeke a cosmic debt. A lifetime of servitude clearly wasn’t enough; he had to come back and ruin this one, too. 07 Zeke arrived just as Gwen and I were locked in a standoff. “Miss Astor, the coffee here is terrible. I’m surprised you’re still in business.” I leaned back, a lazy smile on my face, and spread my hands. “If you cash that check you wrote me, I won’t have to worry about being in business at all.” My casual amusement must have provoked her. In a dramatic gesture, she snatched her coffee cup and flung its contents at me. I narrowed my eyes, bracing for impact. I really shouldn’t have given her so much face. But the scalding liquid never hit me. Zeke appeared out of nowhere, throwing himself in front of me, taking the full force of the splash. The hot, dark coffee streamed down his hair and dripped from the lapels of his expensive suit. In this life and the last, it was the first time I had ever seen him look so utterly disheveled. But I felt no gratitude. This whole mess was his fault to begin with. If he hadn’t intervened, my vengeful nature would have ensured I returned the favor tenfold. Gwen was even more shocked than I was. The moment Zeke appeared, she shot up from her seat. “Zeke, what are you doing?” she shrieked. “Why would you block that for her? Are you insane?” “What is going on between you two?” She crossed her arms, ignoring the mess dripping all over him, her furious gaze darting between us, searching for any sign of collusion. See? Zeke always had a way of driving the women around him mad. It used to be me. Now it was her. Only this time, it had nothing to do with me. The person who needed to explain and clarify was not me. I pushed my chair back with a look of distaste and took several steps away. I had someone bring Zeke a clean towel and then prepared to leave. I had been given a second chance, and I had no intention of getting entangled in their drama again. “Ariadne, don’t you dare leave! You explain yourself!” Gwen yelled, losing her composure as I started to walk away. My face went cold, and I shot her a look as sharp as a blade. “Have I been too polite to you? So much so that you’ve forgotten your place? Your man’s issues are none of my business.” My voice dropped. “You should be grateful that coffee didn’t touch me.” … “Enough!” Zeke’s sharp reprimand cut through the tension. He pressed his fingers to his temple. It was an old habit, a stress-induced migraine that flared up when he was overworked or agitated. In our last life, I had spent years seeking out specialists and even learned therapeutic massage techniques from a master practitioner just to help him find relief. He seemed to remember it, too. His eyes met mine for a fleeting second before he quickly looked away. I guessed he felt a pang of guilt. “Ariadne, I’m sorry. Could you please give us a moment?” He then gestured to the empty cup on the table. “And could you bring another coffee, the same as this one?” I gave him a withering look. “Sorry, that blend isn’t on the menu.” And sorry, I’m not serving you. If you think you’re drinking coffee made by my hands in this lifetime, you can dream on. 08 Gwen wanted to continue the argument, but Zeke took her by the hand and gently pushed her back into the booth. I had to admire his patience, sitting there covered in coffee stains while he calmed her down. A part of me laughed bitterly at the woman I used to be. I don’t know what he said to her, but after shooting me a few more dirty looks, she grabbed her bag and stormed out. I idly flicked the paw of the little lucky cat figurine on the counter. Zeke came over to pay. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I never expected she would find you here. She’s still young, a bit impulsive… don’t take it to heart.” I paused, momentarily confused by his words. When I understood, I was almost speechless. I shrugged nonchalantly. “If you can get her to cash that check, I won’t mind at all.” He stood across from me, his posture impeccable, his lips pressed into a thin line. The aura of authority he commanded seemed at odds with his youthful, 24-year-old face. Just when I thought the conversation was over, he let out an almost imperceptible sigh. “Ariadne, if you ever need help, I can…” “I don’t.” I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. “Your girlfriend is waiting outside. I suggest you handle this. I don’t want to see either of you in my shop again.” For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. I must have been mistaken. He was always invincible. No one could hurt him, least of all me—someone he never cared about. “Alright,” he finally said, and with a steady gait, he left. 09 After months of focused effort, my IELTS results came back. A score of 8. I submitted my application to the University of Oxford. In my last life, I had walked into the gilded cage of marriage at a young age. Zeke said he wanted a supportive wife, so I dutifully turned down every job offer, dedicating myself entirely to managing his life. To me, building a strong marriage and a good home was a noble pursuit, just as it had been for my mother. I naturally assumed that even in an arranged marriage, love could grow. Or, more accurately, that I could make him fall in love with me. But I forgot that a canary, no matter how prized, is destined to live in a cage, admired at the owner’s whim. Fed when he’s pleased, ignored when he’s not. It has no other value, no chance to fly free. When my parents learned of my plans, they were surprised by my transformation, but since it was a positive change, they were supportive. My brother was handling the family business, so they didn’t need me. As for the marriage alliance, a delay of a few years wasn’t a problem. Perhaps with a degree from Oxford, I could secure an even better match. My family loved me. But their love always came with a price tag attached. I wasn’t sad about it. I had, after all, enjoyed the luxurious life they provided. While waiting for a response from the university, I poured all my energy into the coffee shop. This little place wasn’t worth much in their eyes, but to me, it was a testament to my own value.

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When I was a kid, playing deep in the old woods behind our house, I heard a scream. It didn’t sound like an animal. It sounded like a soul being torn apart. My dad grabbed me, dragging me toward the tree line. “Don’t look back! Just run!” “It’s coming out!” I asked him what was coming out. He shook his head, his face pale. “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. I looked up and saw a pair of massive, pale hands covered in white fur resting on my dad’s shoulders. My dad screamed one last thing: “Run!” Then those hands dragged him backward into the darkness of the treeline. Twenty years later, I built a hunting team to go back into those woods. 1 “Everyone who sees it dies.” That voice, intimate yet terrifying, echoed in my ears. I spun around in the pitch-black space, trying to find the source. But there was nothing but a vortex of darkness, wrapping around my fear and grief, suffocating me. A familiar sensation crept up behind me. I turned and saw a massive hand dragging a silhouette into the abyss. I couldn’t see the face, but I saw the shoes. Blue and white Nikes. They stabbed into my heart like a knife. I ran forward, desperate. But the figure was dragged further away, disappearing into the void. I screamed for him not to leave me. The only answer was silence. I tried to chase him, but a piercing shriek froze me in place. “Run!” I stood paralyzed. In the endless dark ahead, two blood-red eyes snapped open. My heart spasmed violently. I felt like I was dying. Those red eyes got closer. A pale hand, covered in white fur, reached out from the shadows. I screamed, “No!” The next second, I jolted awake in my bed, my back drenched in cold sweat. It took minutes for the trembling to stop. That scene from when I was eight years old had haunted me for two-thirds of my life. Every few days, I dreamed of it. My dad’s last cry for help. For twenty years, I didn’t have the courage to face those woods. Even passing by a cluster of trees made me feel like those red eyes were watching, waiting for me to step in. It shouldn’t have been him. It should have been me. I spent twenty years researching what It was. Folklore varied. Some called it a Devil Monkey, others a Wendigo, or a Skinwalker. But like my dad said: “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” No. That wasn’t entirely accurate. My dad traded his life for mine. I became the first person to see it and live. Records of the creature went back over a hundred years. A group of trappers went into the deep woods. Only the guy left at the base camp survived. He heard a scream, and then his friends’ heads were tossed out of the tree line. It became a local legend. Hunting parties were formed, but for decades, nothing was found. It vanished as if it never existed. Then, in the late 90s, it reappeared. A group of hikers. The guide went to take a leak, heard a scream, and came back to five bloody corpses. The forest rangers searched for two weeks and found nothing. The third time it appeared, it took my dad. I told the police, but they found no trace. But a plan had been brewing in my mind for twenty years. I got out of bed, stood by the window, and made a call. “Is the team ready?” “This time, it’s not getting away.” 2 “This is Sarge. That’s Dutch.” My best friend, Mike, introduced me to the two men. They were veteran hunters, ex-military. I paid a fortune to get them. They had survival skills that could keep them alive in hell. They only agreed when I put fifty grand on the table. The woods were a remote branch of the Appalachian Mountains. Rarely visited, except by a few locals living off the grid. My dad had taken me there for a distant relative’s funeral all those years ago. It took us a full day of travel to reach the village on the edge of the forest. The old village head welcomed us, but when he heard what we were after, he turned pale. “Son, listen to me. Don’t go in there.” “That thing takes lives. Everyone who sees it dies.” My voice was low. “I know you mean well, Uncle. But I have to go. I saw it when I was a kid. It took my father.” The old man paused, frowning deeply. “Son, leave now. That thing… it can smell you. It might come down the mountain tonight just to finish the job.” That was a new detail. Inside his cabin, the village head told us what he knew. No one knew exactly what it was. It looked like an ape, but its scream was unearthly. Its bite force was stronger than a bear or a tiger. People found in the past had their skulls crushed. It usually stayed dormant unless something woke it up. But again, no survivors meant no details. As for the smell? A few years ago, a group of poachers went up in winter, looking for easy fur. They heard the scream. They tried to retreat, but one by one, they were picked off. Only one old poacher made it down. He claimed he saw it—huge, pale hands. Hands strong enough to snap a neck like a twig. He thought he was safe. The next morning, the villagers found a hole in his roof. The poacher was gone. They found him that afternoon by a creek. His head was crushed. Giant prints surrounded the body. Rumor had it the creature fled because the police brought heavy firepower. Sarge and Dutch exchanged a look. “This thing sounds supernatural.” I looked at them. “You can back out now. I won’t force you.” Sarge shook his head. “I’m in. My mom needs surgery, and this money saves her.” Dutch shrugged. “I need the cash for my wedding. I’m in.” Seeing he couldn’t stop us, the village head went to his shed and came back with two sticks of old mining explosives. “Leftover from when they blasted the road years ago. Don’t know if they still work, but take ’em. If you can kill that thing, we can all sleep easier.” I thanked him. That night, the creature didn’t come for me. But none of us slept well. The next morning, under a heavy fog, we stepped into the woods. 3 “Fog’s thick. Stay close,” Sarge ordered, taking point. “Don’t get more than ten feet apart.” Dutch took the rear, armed with a compound crossbow and two combat knives. If something jumped us, the crossbow was silent and deadly. Mike and I were in the middle, carrying jagged triangular bayonets—military surplus. Nasty things. One stab leaves a wound that doesn’t close. We walked for ten minutes. The fog got thicker. The forest was dead silent. It felt like walking into the mouth of a sleeping beast. Sarge slowed down, tightening the formation. Nothing happened for the first half-hour. We found a clearing to rest. Sarge looked around, frowning. “Something’s wrong. This place… it ain’t right.” Dutch nodded. Mike and I were confused. We were street fighters, not woodsmen. Sarge explained. “A forest this deep shouldn’t be this quiet. Birds, bugs, small game… there should be noise. Deer, boars, badgers—they aren’t usually this scared of humans because nobody comes out here.” “But it’s dead silent. That usually means one of two things.” “One: A natural disaster is coming. Fire, flood, quake. Animals sense it and bolt.” “Two: This is the territory of an apex predator. Something so terrifying that everything else cleared out.” We all leaned toward option two. It meant It was nearby. We sat back-to-back, weapons drawn, listening. Usually, a predator would have attacked by now. A tiger or bear would smell us entering their turf immediately. The fact that we hadn’t been attacked yet was unnerving. It meant the thing was smart. Cunning. After a while, we moved on. As we approached a creek, Sarge stopped again. Still silent. No animals drinking. That was terrifying. It meant this thing was the absolute ruler here. Nothing dared to even take a sip of water. Sarge bent down, examining something on the ground. It was a shard of bone. But it looked carved. Like a knife. Why would a bone knife be this deep in the woods? 4 “What the hell?!” Mike screamed. We spun around to see him hanging upside down in the air. A snare trap. Hidden perfectly in the leaves. I rushed forward with my knife to cut him down. “Wait!” Dutch hissed. “We’ve got company.” I looked around. Figures emerged from the mist. Men painted in camouflage made of mud and crushed plants. They stared at us with hostile eyes. Their voices were guttural, their English broken and archaic. “Leave. You. Go.” “Not welcome.” I froze. What year was this? Sarge stepped forward, speaking a few words in a dialect I didn’t recognize. Their expressions softened slightly. “Mountain folk,” Sarge whispered to us. “They live off the grid. Old ways.” They weren’t cavemen, just isolated. They traded furs occasionally but kept to themselves. Their camouflage was so good we hadn’t seen them until they moved. There were only about five of them. Probably all the men of their small clan. Sarge spoke to them for a moment, then turned back to us, looking grim. “We have to go. They’re kicking us out. They say the ‘Old One’ told them to catch us.” My head spun. The thing gives orders to humans? It made sense in a twisted way. If they lived here, they had to coexist with it. We cut Mike down and retreated to the edge of their territory, herded by their spears and bone knives. Once we were clear, they vanished back into the foliage. Sarge looked at me. “Boss… they don’t call it a beast. They call it ‘Abaha’.” “Like a god?” I asked. “Yeah. The Mountain God. The Supreme Spirit.” Sarge explained. In these mountains, the old folklore runs deep. Abaha isn’t just a monster; it’s a totem. A deity. To them, its orders are divine law. But Sarge added, “Tribes often call powerful creatures manifestations of gods. A massive tiger might be called the Mountain Lord. Doesn’t mean it’s magic. Just means it’s top of the food chain.” I frowned. “So we can’t hunt it?” Sarge pointed to a ridge in the distance. “We circle around their territory. Over there. We lure the Abaha out. Then we kill it.”

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