Category: English

The moment I started dating my professor’s son, I enacted a new policy: the son pays for the father’s sins. When his dad humiliated me in a group meeting, I cussed him out. When his dad rejected my paper, I took it out on him. When his dad tried to make me look like a fool in class, I made sure he couldn’t get out of bed. This continued until my advisor introduced me to his star pupil. With his help, my experiments and my paper finally began to sing in harmony. I was in such a good mood, I didn’t have time to discipline Leo anymore. I never expected him to corner me in the lab, his eyes red-rimmed. “So that’s why you haven’t been calling me, Sienna,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s because you found yourself a new… lab siren.” 1 I’m a grad student, which is just a fancy way of saying I’m perpetually miserable. To make matters worse, my advisor is the notoriously demanding Professor Karl Harrison. The rumor among the senior students was simple: “Choose Professor Harrison, choose death.” I figured it would be a quick and clean execution. Instead, it was death by a thousand cuts from a dull knife—slow, bloodless, and soul-crushing. My first draft had just been rejected for the third time. His comments were enough to make you want to jump off a bridge: “The abstract is excellent. A true masterpiece of brain removal.” “I asked for a first draft, not a rough draft scribbled on a napkin.” “In the future, please submit something a living person can read. This is just demonic.” In the cafeteria, I found myself stabbing at a piece of potato on my plate. My life felt just like it—stewed into an unrecognizable mush. Then, a guy sat down at the table across from me. A devastatingly handsome guy with a textured crop cut and pale, cool skin. My eyes lit up. This was not the kind of face you find among us lab rats. We were a species defined by greasy hair, glasses, and the permanent gray pallor of sleep deprivation. He sat down and started scrolling through his phone. His messy bangs partially hid his brow bone, highlighting the straight, sharp line of his nose. I shuffled over and slid into the seat directly opposite him. “Well hello there,” I said. “You new? Haven’t seen you around.” He looked up, and his amber eyes shot straight into my heart. 2 The handsome stranger said he was a jock from the university next door, here to meet someone he knew. A slow smile spread across my face. An athlete. Perfect. All brawn, no brains. What a refreshingly uncomplicated creature! Nothing like my fossil of an advisor, who couldn’t string ten words together without eight of them being insults and the other two being a dry chuckle. Right now, a boy radiating this much raw, youthful energy was exactly what I needed. “What’s your name?” I asked, propping my chin on my hand. “Leo,” he said with a slight smile, revealing two perfect canine teeth. “Great name,” I purred, my eyes tracing the lines of his face. “Sounds like the name of my next boyfriend.” Leo froze for a second. Then, a deep blush crept up from the base of his neck, flooding his entire face. A sweet, shy freshman was no match for a shameless predator of a senior like me. The result was inevitable. Three days to hold hands, five to start making out, and a week to devour him completely. A boy new to the game is an energetic one. But he was also an incredibly attentive and eager-to-please partner. His damp eyes would gaze up at me, pleading. The soft brush of his hair against my inner thigh, his breath hot and ragged, sent shivers through me again and again. “Sienna… like this?” “Sienna, look at me.” “Sienna, you’re so beautiful.” I lost myself completely in his worship. And I may have gotten a little carried away. 3 The next morning, my alarm had gone off three times before I shot up in bed, my head throbbing. The Archdemon’s lecture. Being late meant an automatic deduction from my final grade. “Shit, shit, shit!” I scrambled out of bed, my legs giving way as I nearly collapsed. My hands fumbled frantically on the floor, searching for my clothes. Leo was lying on his side, propped up on an elbow. The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing a landscape of flawless muscle. “Sienna? Are you going to be late?” “What do you think?” I was on the verge of tears. He thought for a moment, his eyes brightening. “Hey, isn’t it one of those huge lectures? I can go for you! I’m a fast runner.” My hands, halfway through pulling on a sweater, paused. Sunlight streamed through the window, wrapping Leo in a soft, golden halo. The sharp definition of his muscles gave him the sculpted perfection of a Greek statue. In that moment, he looked divine. Three hours of that soul-crushingly boring lecture… My savior had arrived. I threw my arms around him and showered his face with kisses before reluctantly sending him on his way. He promised me he’d sprint to the lecture hall and wouldn’t be late. He’d find a seat in the back, keep a low profile, and even take pictures of the important slides for me. God bless college boys. So thoughtful, both in and out of bed. Beaming, I crawled back under the covers for another glorious hour of sleep. When I finally woke up on my own time, my phone had exploded. 99+ notifications. DMs and group chat mentions were popping up like crazy: [OMG SIENNA YOU WENT FOR THE JUGULAR!!] [That’s the first time I’ve ever seen the Archdemon speechless. That was a CHECKMATE move! Best campus drama I’ve seen in my life!] [Sienna, you’re my hero! You think Professor Harrison will have to treat you with respect now? I mean, you’re basically his future daughter-in-law!] What the hell was all this? I scrolled down through the chaos. Finally, I saw a DM from my roommate. It was just one line: [Sienna! Professor Harrison’s only son… is named Leo! From the Athletics department!] My brain short-circuited. It felt like a pressure cooker had just exploded inside my skull. For the next five minutes, I just sat there on the bed, my mind a complete blank. Son. As in, the male offspring. Leo was Karl Harrison’s son… Which meant I had, by complete accident, slept with the Archdemon’s son. And then, by another complete accident, I had sent the Archdemon’s son to sign in for me in his own father’s class, outing our relationship in the most public way imaginable. Ha. A lecture hall with nearly two hundred witnesses. This wasn’t just a walk of shame; it was a public execution. Ping. A new message popped up on my screen. It was from the Archdemon himself. [Your taste in men is as abysmal as your academic writing.] My heart, what was left of it, finally shattered into dust. 4 An hour later, Leo was kneeling on the rug in front of my sofa, head bowed, hands gripping his own ears in a gesture of penance. He peeked up at me, his amber eyes wet and pleading, looking for all the world like a giant, guilty puppy awaiting its punishment. “Sienna, I’m so sorry…” I closed my eyes, consumed by despair. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me your dad was Karl Harrison!” “I didn’t know he was your advisor until today…” his voice trailed off, thick with misery. By the time Leo realized something was wrong, it was too late. He’d already found a seat in the corner, trying to make himself invisible. But then his father had strolled over, tapping the desk with a curled finger. “Excuse me, young man. Who are you?” Leo looked up, his face a mask of doom. “…Dad.” The students around them: (A collective gasp) Professor Harrison’s expression didn’t change as his eyes dropped to Leo’s phone screen. “I meant, who are you signing in as?” My name was displayed in crystal clear letters. Making things infinitely worse, Leo stammered, “Sienna… She was really tired last night. Dad, you can’t blame her.” The gossiping students: “Ooooooh!” After hearing the full story… my face was ashen, my soul had departed my body. Leo shuffled closer on his knees and gently tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Sienna, I know my dad’s a monster, but I’m innocent!” he pleaded. “From now on, if he’s awful to you… just take it out on me, okay?” Was that even a thing? The son pays for the father’s sins? While I was still processing, Leo grabbed my hand and brought it toward his own face. “Just hit me. Don’t be mad anymore, please?” The moment my palm made contact with his cheek, he turned his head in perfect sync. Smack. It was a light sound, the hit carrying almost no force. But a faint red bloomed instantly on his pale skin. My heart stuttered. The pent-up frustration I’d been holding for weeks suddenly released, and a flicker of hidden pleasure sparked to life inside me. 5 The Archdemon, completely unconcerned that his son was now my personal punching bag, continued his brutal assault on my thesis. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable. By my count, this is the sixth new word you’ve invented. They should let you edit the next dictionary.” “Overall, this reads less like a research paper and more like a piece of absurdist fiction.” “Just keep writing. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can start over.” I paced my room, fuming. “We’re done! It’s over! I can’t even look at you right now without wanting to scream!” Leo followed me around like a puppy, holding a small cake and a bubble tea. “Babe, what did I do? I’m trying to escape my toxic family too! Just one bite of cake? Please?” “No!” “Then have a bite of me,” he murmured. “The son pays for the father’s sins. And I’m ready to pay with my body.” I spun around, and he was already pulling his long-sleeved T-shirt off over his head. He wiggled the cake and tea at me. “Cake, tea, or me?” His glistening chest was right there, in my face. I swallowed hard, trying to stay strong. “The very thought of you sharing blood with that monster makes me want to murder you!” Leo’s eyes narrowed playfully, the tips of his canines showing. “What kind of murder?” I raised my hand and slapped it against his chest. The muscle was firm and warm beneath my palm. Leo let out a low grunt. Instead of backing away, he leaned into it, pressing closer. His warm lips brushed against my ear. “Oh… that kind of murder…” Leo’s pale skin was incredibly sensitive. After we were done, his body was a canvas of mottled red marks and the faint impressions of my teeth. I licked my lips, utterly satisfied. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman glowing with life. The dark cloud of thesis-induced rage that had been hanging over me for days had vanished completely. The ‘son pays for the father’s sins’ policy was officially in effect. And I was becoming a monster. His dad humiliates me in a group meeting, I cuss him out. His dad rejects my paper, I take it out on him. His dad tries to make me look like a fool in class, I make sure he can’t get out of bed. … This went on until the Archdemon finally reached his breaking point with my fabricated data. He introduced me to his star pupil. 6 Karl Harrison rubbed his temples, his computer screen displaying the nonsense data I had concocted. “I must have been a serial killer in a past life to deserve teaching in this one.” I, the pig in question, stood beside him, not daring to breathe. My usual thick skin had worn thin. He glanced at me, his disgust unconcealed. “Sienna, it’s a miracle you wrote this much, and it’s an act of mercy that I’ve read this far.” “It has immense entertainment value, but zero academic merit.” “Can you swear to me,” he challenged, “that you could replicate these experimental results?” I flinched. Six experiments had yielded six completely unrelated sets of data. If the results hadn’t been so ridiculously off, I wouldn’t have had to resort to making them up. “Professor… I… I took the most representative trends and performed some… reasonable averaging,” I mumbled, my voice getting smaller. “Reasonable averaging?” Professor Harrison raised an eyebrow. “Your data is the equivalent of claiming a grandmother’s walking speed is five hundred miles per hour.” Well, he had me there. I thought I was off by an inch, not a few hundred miles. The Archdemon slid a business card across the desk to me. “Have your senior teach you what an experiment is. You’re writing fairy tales, not science.” 7 I couldn’t believe the Archdemon was actually pairing me with his most prized student. Aidan was a legend in our department. He’d published in a top-tier journal as an undergrad, making him Professor Harrison’s golden boy and a certified academic star. I’d only heard that he was humble and low-key. Working with him, I realized he was more than just handsome; he was so gentle and kind, it was hard to believe he was a product of Harrison’s mentorship. He spent a whole night with me in the lab, patiently helping me redesign my experiment from the ground up. Aidan’s teaching style was all about encouragement. He even complimented me on how well I washed a test tube. He also told me that the Archdemon actually thought highly of me. “You don’t know this, Sienna, but the more Professor Harrison values someone, the harsher he is with them. For a long time, he tore me down so much I seriously considered finding a time to hang myself from his office door.” I muttered under my breath, “My coping mechanism is much healthier. The most I’ve considered is hanging his son from his office door.” “Hmm?” Aidan didn’t catch that. I waved my hand dismissively. “Nothing, nothing.” Aidan smiled. “He’s always praising you to me, you know.” My ears perked up. “Praising me? How?” “Well… he said he can tell your papers aren’t written by AI. You don’t take shortcuts, you’re not opportunistic. He said that’s a very good quality.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, he left out the second half of that sentence: ‘because AI wouldn’t write something this bad.’” Aidan’s smile was warm. “Don’t sell yourself short. If you run into any trouble, your big brother is here to help.” With Aidan’s guidance and support, I was fired up, working with a newfound passion. I spent every waking moment in the lab. I barely had time to reply to Leo’s texts, maybe two or three a day. Seeing him in person was out of the question. I was observing a reaction, jotting down data. “Aidan, do you think I might be pregnant? Just looking at these numbers makes me want to puke.” Aidan got my joke and slid a milk tea across the bench to me. “Weren’t you two careful? I thought you always took precautions afterward.” Just as he finished speaking, there was a loud thud from the lab doorway, like someone had slammed into the frame. A dark figure quickly vanished. “What was that? Are the campus cats getting that big?” Aidan stood up and walked to the door, looking around. He bent down and picked up an elegantly wrapped bouquet of champagne-colored roses. When he turned back, his expression was amused. “Looks like it was a person,” he said, handing the flowers to me. “And I think they’re for you.” I grabbed the bouquet and ran outside, finding Leo by the flowerbeds below the science building. His head was hanging low, and he was clutching a thermos. He looked completely dejected. “What are you doing here?” I asked, walking up to him. “…I ran pretty far. Didn’t want you to have trouble finding me.” He looked up, his eyes downcast, the picture of misery. My heart softened, and I reached out to ruffle his soft hair. “Why didn’t you just come into the lab?” “I was afraid…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was muffled. “Afraid I’d interrupt you two.” He whispered the last two words so quietly I almost didn’t hear them. Then he quickly shoved the thermos into my hands. “This is chicken soup. I made it for you.” I was pleasantly surprised. “You can make soup?” “I read online that the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.” He turned his face away, the tips of his ears turning red. “So I’ve been… working on my cooking skills.” “Aww,” I cooed, giving his shoulder a light punch. “Your cooking has always been great. You’re a master of the ‘one-handed stir-fry,’ after all.” Leo’s face flushed crimson, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. He was quiet for a few seconds before asking in a low voice, “So… who’s better? Me or him?” “Huh?” I didn’t hear him clearly. “Who?” He shook his head, his voice raspy. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over me, and took a deep breath. “Sienna, I’m leaving for the national tournament soon. Whatever decision you make… can you just wait until I get back to tell me? Please?” His words left me completely baffled. Before I could process anything, Leo leaned down and pressed a light, almost reverent kiss to my lips. Then he turned and strode away. I stood there, stunned. Was it a trick of the light? Or were his eyes glistening with tears just now?

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I was the youngest tenured professor at the City Medical School, but five years ago, my wife’s testimony sent me to prison, where I became a convicted rapist. After my release, I scavenged for scraps, fighting stray dogs in the junkyards. I was a mangled, bleeding mess, often sleeping in ditches beside the dead. I curled up in the sludge, agonizing over the throbbing bites on my limbs, lost to the current of the putrid water. I opened my eyes to see a sleek black sedan gliding toward me. My wife, Genevieve—Gen. Five years gone, and she emerged—serene, pristine, her body already showing the curve of a pregnancy. Beside her sat Marcus, the scholarship student I’d personally mentored. In the back, my daughter, Sadie, covered her nose, her eyes wide with undisguised disgust. I staggered up, sludge dripping from my limbs, then crawled toward Gen, a sickeningly eager smile plastered on my face. “My dearest Gen. I’ve learned my lesson…” She watched me with the satisfied air of someone admiring a successfully broken animal. “You wouldn’t have learned without consequences, Alistair. Now that you know how to behave, come home.” I slammed my head on the ground in gratitude. But as I reached for the car door, Sadie kicked my hand away with her patent leather shoe. My hand froze mid-air. “Leave it, Alistair,” Gen said coolly. “You can walk back.” Once inside the estate gates, I became their most obedient mongrel. By day, I protected their home and performed humiliating tricks that had them roaring with laughter. At night, I knelt by their bed, ensuring their comfort, and afterward, wiping the sweat from their bodies with warm cloths. It continued until the anniversary of my parents’ death. Gen casually informed me that Marcus had my parents’ resting place bulldozed to make way for a cheap amusement park. Then, he ordered me to take the fall for his criminal workplace harassment suit. I didn’t hesitate. I simply nodded. I saw a flicker—a true, deep shock—in Gen’s eyes. “Alistair,” she whispered. “Don’t you hate me?” Hate? It was the blood in my veins. But I knew the truth: I had to be their most obedient mongrel. Only then would I get close enough to sink my teeth into their throats. … I managed to conjure the eager, fawning smile. “They’re dead. What good is hate now?” “My master is calling. Time for my daily entertainment routine. Care to join, mistress?” Gen’s expression instantly froze, a trace of confusion in her eyes. I was only repeating her old words. Five years ago, when Marcus framed me for assaulting her younger sister, using planted fluids and hair as ‘evidence,’ Marcus had driven my parents to suicide. I lost my last vestige of sanity and went for Marcus with a knife, but the police were already waiting. In the visitation room, Gen’s voice had been light, dismissive. “They’re dead. Why cause a fuss?” That was the moment I realized my wife had utterly, completely betrayed me. The girl who once swore tearfully to love me forever had been dead long before I went to prison. Gen’s expression softened. “I spent the last few months wondering if this was all a cynical act. But your spirit truly has been broken.” Marcus walked in, looping an arm around her shoulder. “He’s learned to keep his head down, Gen. You always hated how arrogant and self-righteous Professor Alistair was. Besides, Sadie loves her new daddy, doesn’t she?” He emphasized the last two words, testing the air between us. At the sound of that, Sadie suddenly hurled the pair of craft scissors in her hand directly at me. “He’s not my daddy! A rapist doesn’t deserve to be!” The metal sliced the skin near my eye. My vision instantly blossomed with red, but I didn’t flinch. Gen’s voice was sharp. “Sadie!” My daughter bit her lip and turned away, but her eyes were still full of challenge. I picked up the scissors, dusted them off, and held them out. She slapped my hand away. “Filthy! I don’t want them!” Gen frowned, then looked at the line of blood tracing my left cheek. “Go clean up your cut, Alistair. I’ll speak to Sadie.” I offered a servile smile. “Mistress, you honor me, but a man like me is not worth the trouble of changing your daughter’s mind.” “You…” Gen trailed off, her brow furrowed. She couldn’t understand how I could so calmly accept the venom of the girl I once adored. Sadie glared at me, her lips silently forming the word: Animal. I pretended not to see, bowing to gather the props for the day’s entertainment. Marcus’s polished leather shoe came down on my hand, grinding the bones against the wood floor. “Perform well, Professor. You look far better kneeling than you ever did lecturing.” Pain shot up my arm, turning my face crimson. Sweat beaded on my forehead. “Yes, Master.” I’ll give them a show, all right. I just wonder if they’ll still be laughing when the final curtain drops. Marcus enjoyed the daily entertainment ritual. His low-life cronies, whom he now called friends, loved it too. “Marcus, you’re something else! Not only did you score a rich wife, but her famous ex-husband is your obedient dog!” “He was supposed to be the medical field’s rising star, and look at him now.” Marcus blew a smoke ring, his laughter mocking. Just then, Gen’s tired voice drifted out from the house. “That’s enough for today, Marcus. Let him rest.” Marcus’s face instantly hardened, his eyes blazing with fury at me. “Tired?” I immediately prostrated myself on the ground, forehead pressed to the dirt. “N-no, Master. Not tired.” I couldn’t be tired. Last time, Gen had carelessly mentioned the old injury on my right hand from prison. That night, Marcus had me tied in the garden and used a pair of pliers to slowly, deliberately break each of my fingers. Ten fingers. I passed out three times. Marcus’s cold voice ripped me from the memory. “Good. Not tired.” He slowly walked up, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked my head up. “I spent five years making sure you were ‘specially looked after’ in prison, Alistair. You were expensive labor, but I finally got my obedient dog.” My pupils constricted. Five years. As a convicted rapist, I was the bottom of the hierarchy. At first, it was just isolation and beatings. Then, I became the forced object of compliance. The countless tortures—the sheer degradation—made me repeatedly cut my wrists, just to feel the clear, cleansing pain of my own blood and know I was still alive. I cannot die. Not yet. Not before revenge. When I gave no response, Marcus abruptly lifted his foot and stomped hard on my head. My face sank into the dirt, my nostrils filled with mud and the metallic scent of blood. The men’s laughter and whistles erupted around me. Just then, Gen stepped out, saw me groveling in the dirt, and merely sighed. Marcus spun around, pulling her close. “Gen, you shouldn’t be walking around with the baby. I worry about you.” His voice was all honey and possessive pride. They left. Moments later, I felt a sudden, warm splash on my head. A vile, hot liquid streamed down my face and into my mouth. The stench of urine, metallic and sour. The chorus of laughter exploded again. I closed my eyes, remaining perfectly still. The next day, Gen hosted a lavish dinner party to celebrate Marcus’s promotion to Senior Partner at his law firm. I was assigned to drive them. Midway through the journey, Marcus instructed me to pull over in a remote area, then ordered me out to fetch Sadie. I caught his smirk in the rearview mirror. “Go get Sadie. Don’t be late.” I heard the tearing sound of Gen’s dress as I got out, but I didn’t look back. I hailed a cab for the school. Sadie’s smile vanished the moment she saw me walk through the school gate. “Mistress sent me to fetch you, Miss Sadie.” She frowned, her voice dripping with utter distaste. “Why you?” She threw her backpack, slamming it into my chest. Her classmates glanced over. “Hey, isn’t that her dad? The one who went to jail…” Sadie’s face turned scarlet. She glared at me, then turned and ran. “Go away! You’re disgusting!” As I watched her run, I remembered the years when she wouldn’t sleep unless I tucked her in, when she spent twenty-four hours a day glued to my side. Now, I was a dirty stray she wanted to shoo away. Seeing them play the role of the perfect family, hearing her call another man ‘Daddy,’ caused a familiar, dull ache in my anesthetized heart. She had been my world since the day she was born. When I finally arrived at the restaurant, Marcus was surrounded by well-wishers, raising their glasses. He caught sight of me and his eyes lit up. He waved me forward. “Just in time! Our good Professor Alistair is a man of many talents. Come, entertain the guests!” His voice was loud, ensuring the entire hall heard. The guests chuckled. I stood rooted, my blood turning to ice. Gen sat at the main table, lightly swirling her wine glass, refusing to meet my eyes. “What’s wrong? Reluctant?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. I immediately obliged, performing a ridiculous, clumsy routine that sent the crowd into fits of laughter. I saw several familiar faces, including some students I had funded over the years. After the performance, Gen suddenly asked the waiter to add a chair. “Alistair, come sit and eat with us.” I froze, and the juggling bottle slipped, shattering on the marble. Instinct took over. Before Marcus could even open his mouth, I was on my knees. My kneecaps slammed down onto the broken glass. “I apologize, Master.” My head was bowed, my voice trembling. The patrons watched in scorn as the former medical professor knelt like a dog, picking up shards of glass for his wife’s lover. Marcus laughed—a cruel, sharp sound that sliced the sudden silence. “See, Gen? You try to be kind to him, and he refuses to accept it. Some people are just born to grovel. They’re only comfortable on their knees.” Gen didn’t respond. She simply stared at me, her expression complicated. I gathered the last piece of glass, stood up with bloodied hands, and bowed deeply. “Master, Mistress. I will go treat the injury now.” Late that night, I was in the utility closet, cleaning the shards from my hands. I looked up at the mirror—my face, gaunt and pale, looked spectral. I turned around. Gen was standing behind me. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me from behind. “Marcus has been excessive lately, Alistair. Try not to hate him for it.” I lowered my eyes. “Mistress, you exaggerate. Master has been nothing but kind.” Gen was silent for a few seconds. “Alistair, I sent you away for five years to teach you obedience.” She sighed. “But this… this isn’t you anymore.” I almost laughed aloud. When I used to fight Marcus, I was met with Gen’s scolding. That Alistair, she’d said, was too abrasive, making her feel insecure. Now she had succeeded in beating me into an obedient dog, stripping away everything she once disliked. And now, she missed the old me. I looked at her reflection in the mirror and forced a hollow smile. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Gen’s pupils contracted slightly. Her hands searched my ribs, her voice hollow. “You’re nothing but bone… There’s no light left in your eyes.” The utility closet door flew open. Marcus stood there, his face thunderous. “What are you doing?” Gen immediately released me and spun toward him. “Marcus, I just came to tell Alistair that Sadie woke up and is asking for his rice porridge.” She tugged him away, perhaps her fleeting moment of guilt having saved me from punishment. As he left, Marcus looked over his shoulder, his eyes dark and complex. I knew. Things were about to get much worse. The next morning, I carefully approached Marcus. “Master, what entertainment would you like today?” Marcus slowly ate his breakfast, barely glancing up. “No show today. You’re coming with me.” My heart plummeted. I instinctively looked at Gen, sitting beside him. She kept her head down, a silent nod of consent. What was I expecting? “Yes, Master.” I lowered my head, my voice flat. The car left the affluent neighborhood and drove onto the highway. The scenery outside became desolate. The familiar route, like a needle of ice, slowly pierced the depths of my memory. This was the road to my parents’ cemetery. My breathing hitched—a tiny, traitorous intake of air—but I forced it smooth. In the rearview mirror, Marcus watched me, his smile widening, the pleasure radiating off him like heat. “What’s wrong, Alistair? Remembering something?” His tone was light, like a predator toying with its prey. “No, Master,” I whispered. Marcus laughed. “Don’t worry. You will soon enough.” The car stopped at the gate of the abandoned, overgrown cemetery. I barely had a foot on the ground before a crushing blow landed on the back of my head. The world tilted and spun. Several thick arms pinned me to the earth. I struggled to lift my head and saw the faces of the men who had owned me in prison for five years. The terror was instant, absolute. “Professor Alistair. Long time no see.” One man grinned, then swung a pre-positioned baseball bat down on my knee. CRACK! A loud, awful sound of bone shattering. Blood instantly surged into my throat, spilling from my lips. Seeing the blood, the others’ eyes flashed with excitement. They closed in. I felt like every bone in my body was being pulverized. Marcus stood a short distance away, idly playing on his phone. “Easy, boys. Don’t kill him. He still has to take the fall for me tomorrow.” They roared with laughter, pausing the assault. Then, exchanging knowing glances, they hauled me up. “Professor, we haven’t had a dog like you for a long time. Miss your old friends?” My body shook uncontrollably. I tried to beg, but I had no breath left. For the next hour, my body swayed with the impact of their blows. I was an empty shell, completely still, like a corpse. Soon, they found a new form of torture. They found a shovel. A minute later, one of them held up the urns. “No… Please, stop—” I fought, screaming, but my voice was useless. They forced my jaw open and began pouring the white, gritty ash into my mouth, mocking me. “Dogs love bones, Professor! Eat up!” My eyes rolled back. I retched, struggling violently, the tears mixing with the blood on my face. My sight turned black. My mind shattered. I faintly heard an engine. Gen’s car. She had come. Marcus quickly rushed over, instantly switching to a panicked expression. He clutched his own bloody arm. “Gen! What are you doing here? It’s dangerous!” “It’s Alistair’s old prison enemies. They came for revenge! You have to go!” Gen’s gaze landed on me. Her pupils contracted violently, but only for a second. She turned away, helping Marcus toward the car. As she walked, she paused. “Alistair, you… hold on. I have to get Marcus to the hospital. I’ll come back for you. Later.” The car sped away. I fell unconscious. I don’t know how long I was out. I woke to the vibration of my phone. A text from Gen. “Stay put. Someone will be there to pick you up.” I ignored it. Instead, with a finger caked in mud and blood, I dialed a number I’d kept hidden for five years. “It’s time. I have the ledger.” I closed my eyes again. The next day, just hours before he was due to take the fall for Marcus, Alistair was nowhere to be found. Marcus burst into the utility closet. His smile instantly vanished. “Where is Alistair?!”

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I am the “white moonlight” (the one who got away) of a domineering CEO, and I am dying of illness. I want to return to the country for surgery, but my brother tries every means to stop me. He firmly believes that if the white moonlight returns, the CEO will definitely abandon the substitute. He is the ultimate simp for the substitute. “If you’re sick, endure it. There’s no rush to save you.” “A few days late for surgery won’t kill you. They are about to get married.” To survive, I bit the bullet and called the CEO: “I heard I am your white moonlight. Can you pick me up and bring me back to the country?” I heard that when I called, they were holding their wedding. The CEO abandoned the bride and guests and flew overnight to come here. 1 In the hospital ward, other patients were surrounded by family members asking about their well-being, but I was lying alone on the hospital bed. My brother’s indifferent and scoffing voice came from the phone: “You didn’t get sick earlier or later, but just when Tiffany is about to marry Julian Huo, you get sick and act like you’re dying?” “You really never change, a habitual liar. Do you think I’ll believe you?” “I’m telling you, stop your crooked ideas. Threatening suicide is useless on me. Even if you’re dying, you have to endure it for me, until they finish the wedding.” I lay weakly on the hospital bed, tears flowing coldly, my voice trembling as I begged him: “Brother, I’m not acting. Please, let me come back, okay?” “The doctor said I only have hope of survival if Dr. Fu, who has the most surgical experience in the country, performs this surgery.” “My illness really can’t be delayed any longer. If you don’t believe me, I’ll let the doctor tell you.” I pressed the speaker button and begged the attending doctor to prove it for me. The doctor said I wasn’t lying, that I was indeed terminally ill and urgently needed to return to the country for surgery. But my brother remained unmoved: “A few days late for surgery won’t kill anyone. They are about to get married. Just endure a bit longer.” The attending doctor was furious and scolded him over the phone: “What kind of brother are you? Your sister is terminally ill, and you want her to endure? I’m telling you, if you delay any longer and miss the best time for surgery, even if she returns to the country for surgery, it will be hopeless. Don’t regret it then.” My brother sneered coldly: “I won’t regret it. You doctors have nothing better to do than to accompany her in acting against your conscience. Just letting her return a few days late will be hopeless? If she insists on making trouble like this, then don’t ever come back.” I clutched the fabric over my heart, and the tears I had been holding back burst instantly. So, my brother still doesn’t believe me? “Brother, what will it take for you to believe me? Do you have to wait until I’m dead and holding my urn back to the country to believe me?” My voice was too hoarse, too grief-stricken. My brother was silent for a while, seeming moved. At this moment, my dad’s voice came from the other end of the phone: “It’s Maya’s call? What’s wrong with her?” “She said she is terminally ill and needs to return to the country immediately for surgery.” My dad didn’t care: “What surgery can’t be done abroad and must be done in the country? Medical conditions abroad are clearly better than domestic ones. Is this child trying to come back to ruin Tiffany’s wedding? She doesn’t even know how to find a more reasonable excuse.” “I’m telling you, although Tiffany is just my stepdaughter, she is also your sister. As a brother, you can’t favor one over the other, only caring for Maya and not Tiffany.” “Tiffany is about to marry Julian Huo. Absolutely no mishaps can happen at this time. You know how destructive the return of a white moonlight can be. You are a man, you should understand.” My brother’s momentary hesitation was instantly washed away. “I know. Forget it, let’s ignore her for now.” Then, the phone was abruptly hung up. The busy tone “beep beep” came from the receiver, like a heartless slap on the pleading face of a dying person. So cold, so painful, it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. It turns out the brother who held me in his palm and loved me dearly when I was young has really become Tiffany Su’s simp. He is still that sister-doting maniac, but the one he dotes on is no longer me, his biological sister, but his step-sister Tiffany Su, who has no blood relation. Do I have to die of illness to get their cheap regret and breakdown? But, but what’s the use of that? The spiritual victory method of dead person literature, I don’t want it. I want to save myself! 2 In the following days, I sought famous doctors all over abroad and sent my medical records to them, but they all shook their heads. “Can’t do it. This surgery is very difficult. Only Dr. Fu, who has the most surgical experience in China, can give you a chance to live.” “Who said foreign medical skills are better than domestic ones? In terms of surgical experience, if your Chinese doctors say they are second, no one dares to say they are first, especially doctors in your Chinese public hospitals.” “Dr. Fu is the most authoritative surgeon in this field, known as the number one scalpel globally.” I emailed Dr. Fu, asking if he could come abroad to perform surgery on me. Dr. Fu replied in the email: [Sorry, due to family reasons, I am restricted from leaving the country. Your illness is urgent. I suggest you return to the country immediately, register at the hospital, and I can arrange surgery for you as soon as possible here.] But I can’t return to the country. My passport was confiscated, and bodyguards are watching me 24 hours a day. Those bodyguards had long been bought off by Tiffany Su. That day in the ward, I heard with my own ears my brother calling to ask the bodyguards: “Is Maya really sick?” The bodyguard stood outside the ward and said: “Young Master, the Young Miss is not sick.” The attending doctor was more anxious than I was. “Maya Shen, no matter what, you must return to the country immediately. I have already contacted Dr. Fu. As soon as you get off the plane, they will send an ambulance to pick you up at the airport.” I closed my eyes, weeping in despair. “Is it that I don’t want to return?” The attending doctor grasped at straws in desperation: “Then call Julian Huo. Don’t they all say you are Julian Huo’s white moonlight? Can’t the CEO come to pick you up if the white moonlight doesn’t return? You just went abroad, not flew out of the earth.” But Julian Huo doesn’t love me at all. Before, I was the one chasing him, chasing very hard. Saying I am his white moonlight, I don’t believe it one bit. I don’t know who spread this rumor; it’s too ridiculous. Suffering in silence, I could only say: “You also said, I just went abroad, not flew out of the earth. If I really were his white moonlight, if I were indispensable to him, he would have come abroad to find me long ago. Why find a substitute?” The attending doctor snatched my phone: “Still have to call. What is his number? I’ll dial for you.” I recited a string of numbers, but I dared not hold any illusions. 3 “Hello, are you Julian Huo? I heard Maya Shen is your white moonlight. Can you tell Maya’s family that even if the white moonlight returns, you won’t abandon the substitute? She can’t return to the country now because she is your white moonlight.” Julian Huo sneered and refused: “She thinks too highly of herself. From the moment she stepped out of the country, I considered her dead.” I choked. His words were like a slap on my burning face, extremely embarrassing. I shook my head at the attending doctor: “Forget it, I don’t want to humiliate myself.” The attending doctor was angry and shouted at Julian Huo over the phone: “What if she is really about to die?” Julian Huo’s voice was startled: “What do you mean?” “Literal meaning. She has a very serious illness. No one dares to do this surgery abroad. Only Dr. Fu at your West China Hospital can operate on her personally for her to have a chance of living. But her brother won’t let her return. If you have no feelings for her, clarify it with her brother. Don’t let people misunderstand that she is the white moonlight in your heart, causing her to die in a foreign land. She really doesn’t have much time left.” Yes, if I am not the white moonlight in Julian Huo’s heart at all, can he tell my brother? As long as I am not a stumbling block on Tiffany Su’s road to happiness, my brother will allow me to return. Suddenly, Tiffany Su’s happy voice came from the phone: “Julian, who are you talking to? The priest is asking you, do you take this woman?” “The guests are all waiting. If it’s not a particularly important call, can you wait until the wedding ceremony is over to continue?” Only then did I realize that the Wedding March was playing on the phone. So nice to listen to, the melody of happiness. No wonder my brother said if I wanted to return, I had to wait a few more days. So at this moment, Julian Huo is holding a wedding with Tiffany Su? Calling him at his wedding, I am indeed humiliating myself. I’m afraid he thinks I want to make trouble at his wedding, right? I have already imagined the happy wedding banquet, full of guests, my dad and my brother watching the newlyweds. The priest repeated: “Mr. Julian Huo, do you take Tiffany Su to be your wife? Whether she is rich or poor in the future, whether she is healthy or sick, are you willing to be with her forever?” I immediately snatched the phone back from the attending doctor and hung up. I didn’t want to hear Julian Huo say on the other end: “I do.” 4 This day, my condition worsened, fever recurring repeatedly, deeply trapped in nightmares. Dreamt of childhood, Dad doted on me, Brother loved me, but all this changed flavor after Tiffany Su and her mother came to the house. After Mom passed away, Dad intended never to marry again, but five years ago he met Tiffany Su’s mom, that woman who looked exactly like my mom. Even Tiffany Su looked extremely like my mom in her youth, more like my mom than me. My dad couldn’t resist the temptation of substitute literature after all. Even my brother said: “Just imagine her as our mom, imagine Tiffany Su as a sister mom gave birth to, can’t you?” No! Of course not! That’s my mom. How could I allow a woman to wear my mom’s face, occupy everything of my mom? Even the jewelry my mom liked most when she was alive, the wedding ring my dad gave my mom when they got married, were worn on that woman. I cried, I made a scene, I tried every way to drive that mother and daughter out of the house, but became the unreasonable bad girl in everyone’s eyes. The family who once doted on and loved me only had guardedness left for me. Suddenly, the persistent ringtone woke me up. In a daze, I saw the word “Brother” jumping on the screen. I answered immediately, thinking maybe Julian Huo and Tiffany Su’s wedding was done, and my brother finally allowed me to return? But my brother’s furious voice came from the phone: “Do you have to be so vicious? Won’t be satisfied until you drive Tiffany Su to death?” “You have the love of me and Dad, what does Tiffany have?” “She is just an insecure girl. For love, she is willing to be your substitute. She has sacrificed so much for love, why do you still want to ruin her wedding?” “Do you know, your one phone call made Julian Huo abandon the wedding and leave her. None of us could hold him back. So many guests watched, everyone is laughing at Tiffany for overestimating herself, deluding to replace you, but getting slapped in the face by a phone call from the white moonlight.” “Now Tiffany has become the laughingstock of the whole city, forced to the point of not wanting to live, can only jump off a building. Are you satisfied?” “Touch your conscience. If anything happens to her, can you sleep peacefully in this life?” Pfft— Anxious fire attacked the heart, I vomited a mouthful of blood. The doctor said I couldn’t be stimulated anymore, but was what my brother said human language? “Brother, why don’t you touch your conscience and ask, do I really have the love of you and Dad?” “Who would be loved to the point of dying, crying and begging but can’t return to the country?” “Tiffany Su jumps off a building, you feel heartache. I lie alone on a foreign hospital bed, have you ever felt heartache?” “I regret it. I shouldn’t have expected you to still love me like when we were young.” “You have long ceased to be that brother who doted on me. You have no heart!” While I was speaking, the alarm of the medical instrument kept beeping. The nurse ran over to look and shouted: “Bad news, patient in bed 18’s blood pressure is rising rapidly, heart beating too fast, risk of sudden death at any time. Dr. Du, call Dr. Du quickly, bed 18 is critical…” My brother probably heard the nurse’s words, voice unstable: “What happened to you? Is someone cooperating with your acting again?” “Maya Shen, speak to me. Don’t scare brother! Do you hear me? Speak!” “If you don’t speak, give the phone to the bodyguard. I want to hear them say it, immediately, right now!” So funny. I’m dying, and he still firmly believes I’m acting? My heart is desolate. What else is there to say? Give it to the bodyguard? Let the bodyguard lie through his teeth and tell him I’m not sick? There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart. I really don’t want to be the heroine of dead person literature, but fate refuses to give me a trace of favor. Wait, my brother seemed to say on the phone just now that Julian Huo abandoned the wedding and left Tiffany Su, and no one could hold him back? Is this really not my hallucination? At this time, my brother’s assistant’s voice came faintly from the other end of the phone: “Young Master, Julian Huo went abroad. Old Master Huo ordered dozens of bodyguards to stop him at the airport but couldn’t stop him.” “He was like a beast suddenly gone mad, killing gods if gods block, killing Buddhas if Buddhas block. I’ve never seen such a terrifying man.” “Also, I just got news that Julian Huo never thought of marrying Miss Tiffany Su. Even without the Young Miss’s phone call, Julian Huo wouldn’t say the words ‘I do’. He entered the game himself, originally intending to play this at the wedding to ruin Tiffany Su.” Play what to ruin Tiffany Su? I’m too curious to see. Did Julian Huo really come to pick me up back to the country? But, it seems, it’s too late. I saw many doctors swarming towards me, giving me injections, shining flashlights on my eyelids. But my vision became darker and darker, darker and darker…

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After graduating from college, I dedicated myself to entrepreneurship. Yet, my best friend, Mike Chen, always seemed to make ten times more money than I did with ease. I made a thousand; he made ten thousand. I made a hundred thousand; he made a million. After working day and night for a whole year, I finally saved up a hundred thousand dollars, but he would turn around and show off a million-dollar balance on Instagram. My wife cursed me for this, despising me as a useless loser. I worked so hard that I slept no more than four hours a day, while Mike could make money just by lying at home. In the end, I died in a car accident due to exhaustion, my death was gruesome. On the day of my funeral, my parents fainted from crying, but my wife, who had always scolded me for being useless, turned around and ran into Mike’s arms. She said happily: “Mike, your system is so good, it really can make so much money easily!” Only then did I understand that all the problems lay with this system. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the car accident. 1 “Arthur Jiang, can you be a bit more promising? Look at Mike, he makes money just sitting at home!” “How can someone like you afford to support me? Go to work now!” The angry scolding in my ears brought me back to my senses. Looking at Chloe Lin’s angry face, I realized with a start that I had been reborn to the time before the car accident. Seeing me dazed, she became even angrier and actually pinched my arm directly. Her sharp manicured nails dug fiercely into my flesh, making me gasp in pain. “What are you dazing for? If you don’t go to work and make money, I’ll divorce you!” Seeing Chloe about to pinch me again, I shook off her hand. She fell to the ground, shocked and furious: “You, you dare to hit me!” “Arthur Jiang, I want a divorce!” If it were before, hearing the word divorce would make me tremble all over and immediately coax her. As long as she used divorce as a threat, I would be willing to do anything, more obedient than a lapdog! But now, my expression was cold and solemn, and I even had the mood to smile: “Fine, let’s divorce then.” The woman who usually bossed me around suddenly lost her arrogance. She pulled my hand and acted coquettishly: “I was just joking with you, why did you take it seriously?” “I just want you to work hard like Mike and give me a better life.” Chloe had exquisite features, and when she acted coquettishly, men had no power to resist. A soft sentence could make one want to pluck the stars from the sky for her. Among these people, I would definitely not be included now. I slowly pulled her hand away and replied coldly: “I’m going to sleep in the room now, don’t disturb me.” Seeing this, she obviously became more anxious, even dragging me to prevent me from leaving: “Don’t you have a very important client to meet this afternoon? What will happen to him if you don’t go?” In my previous life, I had an accident on the way to meet a client. Because of a month of high-intensity non-stop work, my spirit had reached its most exhausted point. But Chloe didn’t want me to rest. If I rested, I would be scolded by her. It wasn’t until I died that I knew the truth. It turned out that Mike had bonded with a so-called system. As long as I worked hard to make money, he could easily make ten times more money than me. What’s more disgusting is that my health deteriorated because of work, but he could borrow my life to become long-lived and healthy. I worked like a horse for ten years, but in the end, my white-haired parents had to send off their black-haired son, grief-stricken. Mike, however, relied on the system to thrive, building his success on my bones. Since this is the case, why should I work hard? Isn’t Mike capable of making money? I want to see how much money he can make without me! “Of course I’m not going.” “If you want to make money so much, go yourself.” Chloe’s eyes widened, not expecting my temperament to change so drastically. Seeing her hesitate to speak, I directly closed the door and locked it, isolating that disgusting face. I slept until the next afternoon. 2 The house was empty. I transferred all the hundred thousand dollars I got from this cooperation to my parents’ card. After everything was done, I returned to the company. As a result, as soon as I arrived at the company, Mike and Chloe rushed over. The first thing they did when they saw me was to question me fiercely: “What did you do this afternoon? Why is there a hundred thousand dollars missing from the joint account!” “Hurry up and transfer the money back, half of that money is mine.” Seeing my face look bad, Mike quickly came over to smooth things over: “Chloe is just anxious. You didn’t tell her when transferring money, it’s inevitable for her to overthink.” “It wouldn’t be good if it hurts the relationship between husband and wife.” Listening to his high-sounding words, I sneered: “Is it your place to speak when I argue with my wife?” Mike was stunned, and his face immediately became ugly. Seeing this, Chloe felt distressed immediately, raised her hand high to slap me. “Arthur Jiang, how can you talk like that! Mike is doing this for our own good, how can you not give me even this bit of face?” I turned sideways to dodge her slap, and with a casual push, Chloe fell into Mike’s arms. She stared wide-eyed in disbelief, her voice trembling: “You! You can’t make money and dare to treat me like this, Mike is better than you…” I didn’t need to listen to know what she was going to say. Starting from the first year we dated, she had always compared me with Mike. In front of others, she often embarrassed me. Over the years, I was tamed by her to become gradually inferior and cowardly, completely manipulated by her. Therefore, I often felt guilty towards her, thinking I hadn’t given her a better life. Looking back now, all this is bullshit! I glanced at her indifferently: “Since he is so good, then marry him.” “I see Mike likes you quite a bit too, why don’t you two get together and spare me from harm.” Hearing this, Chloe struggled out of Mike’s arms, her tone sharp: “How can you think of me like this? Mike is my benefactor, we just have a pure friendship between a man and a woman.” 3 “Only people with dirty minds like you see everything as dirty.” I didn’t time to banter with her, so I just perfunctorily said: “Think whatever you want, don’t hinder my work.” Chloe had always been arrogant and naturally couldn’t stand this anger. Seeing her turn her head to leave with Mike, I didn’t care at all. But Mike pushed her hand away and turned back to smooth things over for me; “Brother Arthur, don’t be angry, we are really innocent.” “Sister-in-law just can’t think it through for a moment, I’ll persuade her for you, but you should transfer this hundred thousand back quickly. A woman’s heart is like a needle in the sea, don’t hurt the harmony because of this.” I looked up at him and handed him a car key: “Mn, go accompany her to relax, return the car to me when you have time.” He took the key, even more satisfied in his heart, and directly pulled Chloe away. Looking at their backs, the questions in my heart grew. Logically speaking, Mike already had a million, why would he value the hundred thousand in my hand so much? Even not hesitating to make a scene in front of me, emphasizing repeatedly to transfer that hundred thousand back. Is it really that important to him? I leaned back in the chair and opened the dash cam player in the phone app. This is a new car I bought, very cherished, so I thought of buying a better dash cam to avoid unclear disputes in case of an accident. Therefore, the dash cam footage is 4K HD and can record all sounds inside the car. I subconsciously held my breath and leaned closer to listen. “Why didn’t you let him go discuss the contract? Do you know how long I planned for this setup! Only if Arthur Jiang dies can we completely possess this money, do you understand?” Chloe’s voice sounded extremely aggrieved: “Why are you in a hurry? Arthur Jiang refused to go himself, could I force him? Besides, isn’t it good to let him live a few more days and earn more money for us.” Mike sighed faintly, his tone even more resentful for her not meeting expectations: “Greed leads to mistakes. The system has pros and cons. If Arthur Jiang transfers money out, I will be punished ten times.” Hearing this, my heart shook. That is to say, Mike lost a whole million! No wonder, I only transferred out a hundred thousand, but it made them so unsettled. Immediately after, my attention was attracted by the next sentence. “So, we must solve this future trouble quickly, understand? The rest depends on you.” Chloe responded coquettishly. “Alright, when have I not done what I promised you? Give me some time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t return tonight!” Mike then smiled lewdly: “Baby, Arthur Jiang hasn’t come home yet, how about we do it here…” Before he finished speaking, the seat was heavily reclined, followed by waves of wet sounds. I directly saved the video of the two’s illicit affair, a surge of hatred rising in my heart. This bitch Chloe Lin, wasted my years of indulgence and care for her. I could indulge her so much because she was the white moonlight I liked since high school. She had exquisite features and excellent grades, a goddess in the hearts of countless people. I valued her too much, worrying about gains and losses in love for her, so I held her in the palm of my hand and loved her for more than ten years. Yielding to her had long become a habit, fearing she would get tired of me and leave me. If I earned a dollar, I wished I could break it into two for her to spend. Even so, she still felt it wasn’t enough and never gave me a good face. Even when my bones were not yet cold, she ran into Mike’s arms. I will always remember them kissing beside the tombstone as if no one was around: “Hubby, I was with him for more than ten years for you, you have to compensate me well.” 4 “Baby, aren’t you afraid of being seen by Arthur Jiang’s soul? Careful he won’t rest in peace.” Chloe laughed coquettishly, tone helpless: “Why should I be afraid of him? Alive, he was just my clinging dog. Dead, he’s just dead.” “In the next life, if I crook my finger, he’ll still crawl over to be my simp.” Recalling her certain tone then, my heart aches. The questions of two lifetimes finally got an explanation. Mike wanted to kill me, and she personally handed him the knife. Can I still expect any true feelings from such a person? I hated them to the extreme, but at this moment I couldn’t expose myself. Divorcing Chloe, she would inevitably take half of my money. I must plan for myself. What’s more, I also want to know what exactly their conspiracy is. That night, Chloe didn’t come home. It wasn’t until early morning that she called me: “Hubby, we’re having a class reunion at Old Friends Bar tonight, do you want to come?” “Everyone says they miss you.” Listening to the noisy bar sounds on the other end of the phone, I pretended to be worried and said: “Then I’ll come now, pick you up by the way.” Places like bars are full of mixed people. Maybe this is the trap she set for me. But I just wanted to see what medicine she was selling in her gourd, so I contacted another important person before driving. Just pushed open the door of the private room, Chloe leaned into my arms bonelessly. I endured the nausea and didn’t push her away directly. She then blinked her watery eyes and said aggrievedly: “Hubby, it was my fault during the day, can you not blame me anymore?” “The person I love most is only you.” In front of so many classmates, I didn’t want to say much either. Mike smiled on the side: “Everyone toast to Arthur Jiang quickly. He is a big boss now. One word from him can arrange jobs for you.” The remaining few people suddenly became eager and came to toast me one after another. I drank a few glasses. After feeling a bit tipsy, I directly refused the rest of the wine. Resultingly, I felt my body becoming abnormally weak, and my mouth was a bit numb. Realizing something was wrong, I prepared to leave.

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My boss, Patrick Smith, was in a car accident. He’s been in a coma ever since. My best friend, Maya, who works in administration, used her position to assign his idle Maybach to me. I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Turns out, the car has a worse temper than my boss ever did. If I accelerated too slowly, a man’s voice would crackle from the speakers: “Are you part turtle? A snail could move faster.” If I braked too hard, the voice would snap: “In a rush to get reincarnated? Are you trying to send me to an early grave?” I just figured it was some cruel voice pack Patrick had installed before the accident. Until tonight. I was working late and had to change in the car. The moment I slipped off my blazer, that familiar voice echoed softly. “With a figure like that, you should really keep your clothes on. Don’t embarrass yourself.” I looked up in terror. In the rearview mirror, a translucent figure was lounging in the back seat, legs crossed, a look of utter disgust on his face. It was him. The office tyrant himself, currently lying unconscious in the ICU. 1 I slammed my foot on the gas, and the Maybach roared through the intersection. The voice was back. “Are turn signals just for decoration? Do you change lanes using telepathy?” I’d had enough. I slapped the steering wheel. “Shut up!” Three seconds of silence. “Your temper is bigger than your driving skills, I’ll give you that.” I took a deep breath, telling myself to stay calm. After all, this car was a perk Maya had arranged for me. The group’s CEO, Patrick Smith, had been in a coma for three months after a severe accident. His exclusive ride had been collecting dust in the underground garage ever since. “The car’s just sitting there,” Maya had said. “Your beat-up old Honda should’ve been scrapped years ago. Just take it. No one’s going to question Mr. Smith’s car.” I’d believed her. But the car’s built-in voice assistant was practically an AI clone of Patrick himself. Caustic, critical, and completely inhuman. I parked in a shadowy spot beneath the office building and checked the time. The company banquet started in half an hour. No time to go home and change. I glanced around, confirmed no one was watching, and raised all the sunshades on the windows. The cramped, private space gave me a sliver of security. I unbuttoned my blouse, shrugging out of my work clothes. Just as I reached for the evening gown on the back seat, an icy draft ghosted across my neck. “Is that what you chose to wear?” “Pink lace? How old are you? You need the right foundation to pull off ‘coy’.” My whole body went rigid. I slowly turned my head. The back seat, which had been empty moments ago, was now occupied. A man in a bespoke black suit sat there, broad-shouldered and trim-waisted, his long legs crossed. I’d seen that face countless times at company events. Cold, handsome. And currently twisted into a sneer of undisguised mockery. Patrick Smith. No. He was supposed to be in the ICU, hooked up to a ventilator. A scream lodged in my throat. Patrick raised a hand, his long, elegant fingers pointing toward my chest. “I wouldn’t recommend streaking in my car.” “I’m allergic to flat chests.” I snatched my jacket, clutching it to myself as I shrank into the corner of the driver’s seat, my teeth chattering. “Are you a person or a ghost?!” Patrick scoffed, leaning forward. His face passed right through the back of my seat, materializing inches from mine. “What do you think, Miss… assistant?” He got my title wrong. My name is Chloe. But he clearly didn’t care. “Get dressed.” He pulled back, leaning against the seat again, his expression one of pure annoyance. “Just looking at your idiotic face gives me a headache.” 2 I practically fell out of the car. The security guard on patrol gave me a look like I was a lunatic. I glanced back. The Maybach sat silently in the darkness, windows sealed, hiding its secrets. A hallucination. I’d been working too much overtime lately. It had to be a hallucination. Trembling, I put my shoes back on, forcing myself to calm down. Patrick was in the hospital, intubated, hooked up to an ECG. And besides, ghosts aren’t real. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the car door open again. The back seat was empty. See? Just as I breathed a sigh of relief and settled into the driver’s seat, a dark shape materialized in the passenger seat beside me. Patrick was turned toward me, his face a mask of impatience. “Are we playing hide-and-seek?” “Aaaah!!!” I screamed again. “Quiet.” He rubbed his temples. “You’re giving me a headache.” I pressed myself against the door. “But… aren’t you in the hospital?” “That’s what I’d like to know.” “I woke up in this damn car.” Patrick looked up at me, his gaze freezing cold. “And you. Who gave you the nerve to drive my car?” I stammered, “It… it was an arrangement from the admin department…” There was no way I was selling out Maya. Patrick snorted. “That pack of incompetents in Admin. I’ll fire them all when I get back.” He seemed to lose interest in pursuing it, pointing ahead. “Drive.” I froze. “To… to where?” “The hospital.” Patrick stared out the window, his profile hard and unforgiving. “I’m going to see if I’m actually dead.” I didn’t dare refuse. I started the car. And stalled it. Twice. Patrick’s scathing commentary was, as always, right on cue. “Did you get your driver’s license in a cereal box?” “The clutch goes all the way to the floor. Are your legs too short, or are you just weak?” “Put it in gear! What are you fumbling with?” He berated me all the way to the hospital’s underground garage. I parked the car and unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to flee for my life. “Mr. Smith, we’re here. You can… uh… go ahead.” Patrick didn’t move. He stared at the car door, his expression grim. “Open it.” I quickly got out and pulled open the passenger door for him. He swung his legs out to exit. The next second. He was thrown back into the seat as if by an invisible force. The car shook violently. I was frozen in shock. Patrick’s face was ashen. He tried again. The same result. He was trapped in the Maybach. Patrick leaned back against the headrest, his chest heaving, the pressure in the car dropping to a terrifying low. After a long moment, he turned to look at me. “Chloe.” He actually got my name right. “Come here.” I shuffled two steps closer. “Closer.” I pressed myself against the car door. “Get in.” I shook my head frantically. “I don’t—” “Get in!” I flinched and scrambled into the driver’s seat. Patrick stared at me, then suddenly reached out. His translucent hand passed through my shoulder. There was no touch, only a wave of spectral cold. “Drive,” he said. “Where to?” “Home.” “Wh-whose home?” Patrick’s lips twisted into a chilling smile. “Yours.” 3 I brought Patrick back to my apartment. Or rather, I parked the car downstairs. He couldn’t get out of the car, and there was no way for me to get him upstairs. “You live in a place like this?” Patrick surveyed the dilapidated old apartment complex through the car window. Overflowing dumpsters, stray cats darting about, hallway lights flickering like a horror movie. “The slums look better than this.” I pulled out the car key, mustering my courage. “Mr. Smith, it’s all I can afford. You’ll have to make do.” I was about to make a run for it. “Stay.” Patrick’s voice stopped me. “Roll down the window.” I did as he said. “Leave your phone.” “What?” “I said, leave your phone!” I didn’t dare argue. I offered him my phone. But he couldn’t grasp it; the phone passed through his hand and landed on the seat. Patrick’s face darkened. “Put it there. And open a streaming app.” I obediently found a reality show for him and propped the phone up on the dashboard. “I’m going upstairs to sleep now…” “Be down here at seven tomorrow morning. On the dot.” Patrick didn’t even look at me. “Be one minute late, and I’ll be crawling in through your window tonight.” I glanced up at my eighteenth-floor apartment, then back at his ghostly form. Somehow, I believed he could do it. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. My mind was consumed by the image of my ghost-boss sitting in the car downstairs. The next morning, I went down with dark circles under my eyes. Patrick was still there. The phone was dead. He was sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat, radiating a murderous aura. “Is this what you call a full charge? The screen went black in three hours.” “Mr. Smith, it’s last year’s model…” “Pathetic,” he spat. On the way to the office, he was his usual, relentlessly critical self. “Turn left, take the expressway. The streets below are a parking lot.” “Overtake him! That BMW driver is scared of his own shadow. What are you waiting for?” He directed my every move, and for the first time, I actually wasn’t late. As soon as I walked into the office, Maya rushed over. “So? How was it last night? That car is a dream to drive, right?” I forced a smile. “Oh yeah, a dream. Comes with a complimentary surround-sound verbal abuse feature.” Maya didn’t get it and was about to ask more when our department manager clapped his hands. “Everyone, listen up!” The manager’s face was grave. “We’ve just received word. Mr. Smith’s condition has worsened. It’s likely… just a matter of a day or two.” “The company has arranged for each department to visit the hospital in shifts to pay their final respects.” “Our department’s slot is at ten a.m.” My head started buzzing. Patrick was really going to die? Ten o’clock. The area outside the ICU was crowded. The air was thick with sobbing and hushed whispers. I hung back at the edge of the crowd, clutching a bouquet of chrysanthemums that no one would notice anyway. Through the thick glass, I saw Patrick on the hospital bed. His face was deathly pale, so thin he was almost unrecognizable, with tubes running in and out of his body. Lifeless. A world away from the arrogant bastard in the car. I instinctively glanced behind me. The empty hallway stretched out, silent. Of course. He couldn’t leave the car. “You can go in. Don’t take too long,” a nurse said, opening the door. I followed my colleagues inside. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors hammered against my heart. I walked to the bedside, staring at that familiar face. On a strange impulse, I reached out, wanting to check for his breath. The instant my fingertips brushed against his skin… ZAP! A powerful electric current shot from my fingers and coursed through my entire body. The pain was sharp, intense. I snatched my hand back. “What are you doing?” the manager hissed, glaring at me. I clutched my tingling fingers, staring at the bed in horror. In that brief moment. I had clearly heard a voice in my head. “Idiot, are you trying to kill me?!” It was Patrick’s voice. My head snapped up. The man on the bed remained motionless, his eyes sealed shut. But I saw it. His finger. It had twitched. 4 I all but fled the hospital room. When I got back to the car, Patrick was sitting in the back seat, his eyes closed as if meditating. He opened them as I slid in. “What was that just now?” he asked, straight to the point. I didn’t bother hiding it. “I touched you.” Patrick’s eyebrow twitched violently. “I felt it.” “What?” He sat up straighter. “When you touched my body, I felt it… here.” He pointed to the same spot on his ghostly form. I swallowed hard. “…Your body and your… spirit are still connected?” “It’s not just a connection.” Patrick’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his face closing in on mine again. “Chloe. It’s you. You’re my power bank.” Patrick began experimenting with possession. As long as he was latched onto me, he could leave the car, maintaining a certain radius. I was his anchor. And so, my cubicle gained an invisible, spectral supervisor. “This PowerPoint presentation looks like absolute garbage. Are you trying to disgust the client into signing?” “That data point is wrong. Move the decimal two places to the left. Did a gym teacher teach your finance department math?” “Stop drinking that instant coffee. It tastes like dishwater.” I revised proposals while enduring his constant mental assault. That night, I just wanted to unwind with a TV show. “Change it. The male lead’s plastic surgery is distracting.” “Can’t you see those chips are expired?” “Turn the water temperature down. Are you trying to boil me alive?” I finally snapped. “Patrick! This is my home! I’m entitled to some privacy!” Patrick looked down on me, imperious. “Privacy? Is there a single part of you I haven’t seen by now?” “That’s because you were spying!” “I was subjected to visual pollution against my will.” He was so shamelessly self-righteous. And then he pushed it further. “There’s an important meeting tomorrow. Bring your brain, and do exactly as I say.” I wanted to ignore him, but he threatened to blow in my ear all night while I slept. I caved. At the meeting, I repeated Patrick’s words, systematically dismantling the arguments of a senior manager who had always targeted me. The entire room was stunned. Seeing the look of defeat on the manager’s face gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. Patrick seemed to be in a good mood too, ending his possession early. After work, I went to the underground garage to get the car. As I reached for the door handle, I froze. Reflected on the window was…

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In the third year of Julian’s infidelity, the long-lost system reappeared, telling me I could go home. In the final ten days, I stopped arguing and fighting with him. I let him spend nights out with his canary. I let him give things I cared about to her. On the day I left, it was my birthday. He rushed in with the canary, knocking over my cake, strangling me and pinning me against the window. Questioning why I harmed their child. “When did you become so vicious?” I smiled, too lazy to explain. “Yes, I am that vicious.” “So, live well with her.” Then, under his gaze, I turned and jumped from the nineteenth floor. Ending everything I had in this world. 1 When the long-lost system appeared and told me I could go home, I had just finished a heated argument with Julian Reed. He had just returned home after being intimate with his kept canary, Bella White. Seeing me lying on the bed, he leaned in and hugged me from behind. His lips were warm, moving along my neck. I sat up abruptly and instinctively slapped him. “Julian, if you don’t feel dirty, I do.” He was stunned for a moment, touching his face self-deprecatingly. Then he suddenly pulled me up. Pinned me in front of the bathroom mirror, one hand gripping my chin, eyes poisoned. “You find me dirty? Mia, look at yourself. Do you have any resemblance to your former self?” I looked at myself in the mirror. Hair messy, one strap of my pajamas hanging off my shoulder, like a madwoman. The most beautiful eyes from the past were no longer lively and gentle. Fine lines had quietly crept onto my face, and the youthful vigor was gone. At that moment, Bella’s youthful face flashed through my mind. Those bright eyes, burning with desire and ambition, looked at me provocatively. “So what, Julian? Is this your reason for cheating?” I sneered, leaning against the wall, eyes moist. He slowly approached me, his thumb gently wiping the corner of my eye. “I’ve said it more than once, I’m just playing. When I’m tired of playing, I’ll come back. Mia, I’ve always loved you.” Disgusting. Uncontrollable disgust. I screamed painfully. Grabbed a bottle and smashed it into the mirror, shattering it. “Get out, get out!” After he left, I stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, looking at the huge model photo of Bella that Julian had projected on the LED screen outside the window. A light mocking smile. Confrontations like today’s had played out countless times over the past year. From the initial heart-wrenching pain to now, only despair and numbness remained. I didn’t belong to this world. Eight years ago, I came to this world on a mission to save the miserable and paranoid youth, Julian Reed. At that time, his father cheated, the family business went bankrupt, his mother committed suicide, and he was heavily in debt. His eyes were dead silent. It was I who came here, on a sunny morning, walking towards that humble and pitiful youth. Later, I lived with him in the basement, ate bran and swallowed vegetables, and paid off all debts bit by bit. He once asked me in confusion. “Why are you so good to me?” I smiled and held his hand, “Maybe it’s an instruction from God.” He lowered his head and whispered, “Then that’s really the best gift God has given me in my life.” On the day the mission was completed, he seemed to anticipate that I would leave, hugging me tightly from behind with red eyes, staying awake all night. I softened and hugged him. “Julian, I won’t go home.” Since then, the system completely disappeared. For five whole years, it never appeared once. And during these five years, Julian cheated, right in the third year of our marriage. He kept a young and beautiful model, Bella White. 2 I still remember the day I discovered his infidelity. He came back drunk, holding me and leaning on me, suddenly saying something in a daze. “Bella, why have you become shorter?” I thought he was a bit funny at the time. I’ve always been 1.65 meters tall; how could anyone suddenly become shorter? Later, I checked his phone and realized that Bella, the one he kept, was 1.74 meters tall, tall and sexy, completely different from me. And the name he mentioned, was it my name, Mia, or her name, Bella? … I can’t remember many details of that day. Only remember the brain buzzing instantly, the world dark. Julian knelt in front of me, crying bitterly, saying he was momentarily attracted by novelty and made a mistake. Three years of dating, three years of marriage, giving up returning home, only to end up with such an outcome. I was unwilling, refused to let each other go just like that. So, we tacitly chose to maintain the marriage. But rotting love, roses with insect eggs, reluctant to throw away, yet disgusting. In his repeated betrayals, we argued and resented each other repeatedly until we were exhausted and disheartened. Like a blunt knife cutting flesh, slowly wearing away the last bit of love. So when the long-lost system woke up from dormancy and talked to me. I responded immediately. “System, I regret it. I want to go home.” 3 “Host, I warned you that day. The plot after the mission is unpredictable… including Julian’s change of heart.” “However, given your excellent mission performance in the past, I can grant you a special privilege and open the channel home for you again.” “Only, the time is in ten days.” Tears streamed down my face, and I nodded. “Okay, you have the last ten days left in this world. The countdown to detachment begins officially.” The system disappeared again. The house returned to deathly silence again. I wiped my dry tears and began to pack things. I no longer wanted to leave any traces in this world. I packed all my clothes and threw them into the trash can. I also took down the wedding photos of Julian and me on the wall one by one and took out the wedding ring he gave me. When we got married that year, Julian held this diamond, which was only 70 points but cost his entire fortune, choking and kneeling on one knee to me. “Mia, you are the only light in my dark life.” “In this life, I am only loyal to you.” This 70-point diamond, although small, carried the most intense love between Julian and me. I always wore it on my hand. Until that day I saw Bella holding his arm, with that five-carat pink diamond on her hand, shining brightly. This ring was then completely placed in the drawer. I smashed the diamond ring hard, and the wedding photo glass instantly shattered. Finally, looking at this home full of traces of my life with Julian, I felt a sudden sense of relief. I was unwilling for five years in this pathological marriage and struggled for five years. Now, finally being able to leave is also a kind of liberation. 4 Early the next morning, I got up and went downstairs. The lights in the room were dim. Julian sat on the sofa smoking, his expression unclear. “Where are the wedding photos on the wall?” He spoke faintly, stopping me. The messages on the phone kept jumping and beeping. It was a message from Bella, smiling brightly holding a bouquet of gold foil roses she just received. [So tired last night, but after receiving the gift, I can do it again~] He noticed, still recklessly lighting up the phone. “Put them away.” I was calm and walked straight past him to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. He put out the cigarette, smiled, got up, and took out a high-end necklace from Van Cleef & Arpels from his pocket. Put it around my neck from behind. “Still angry?” “Here, an apology gift. It suits you well.” He lowered his head and whispered in my ear like a snake sticking out its tongue. “Mia, you will always be Mrs. Reed. No one can replace your position. Including Bella.” “When I’m tired of playing, let’s try to have a child again, how about it?” I pushed him away coldly, turned around and stroked the charming lipstick mark remaining on his shirt. Squeezed out a sarcastic smile. Walked away.

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My adoptive father is a supervillain. My adoptive mother is the evil queen bee. To ensure I never got bullied, they taught me every dirty trick in the book. I took the best of their teachings, discarded the rest, and smoothly villain-ed my way through life until college. Then, my biological parents showed up to claim me. They found me with rainbow-dyed hair, pinning a delinquent to the ground and slapping him silly. “Do you want to be a eunuch or my boyfriend?” I demanded. My biological mother almost fainted. “Where is my sweet, soft, fragrant daughter?!” 1 My parents raised me with one core belief: There are two people in this world I must destroy. So, while other kids were being cuddled and watching Peppa Pig, I was in the basement learning how to snap a neck. My childhood had no Barbie dolls. Only Krav Maga, Muay Thai, archery, and tactical espionage. “Mercy to the enemy,” my dad would say, “is cruelty to yourself.” I was three years old when my mom found me in the trunk of a car. That day, her Maserati got rear-ended. The other driver was a thug. Even though he caused the accident, he jumped out and started screaming, demanding ten grand in cash. My mom laughed. She called my dad. He arrived and dismantled the man’s joints like he was taking apart a Lego set. The thug collapsed like a sack of mud, passing out from the pain. Dad wiped the blood off his hands and turned to leave, but then he heard a whimper from the trunk. Inside, curled up in a ball, was a chubby little girl. That was me. Dad stared at me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He wanted to leave me there. But Mom scooped me up. “My friends on Instagram post their daughters every day,” she mused. “If I had a daughter, she’d be prettier than all of theirs.” So, she took me home. She was right. Her socialite friends fawned over me. Until one day, a blind rich lady brought her bratty son over. The kid sneaked up and kissed me on the cheek. Mom’s smile vanished. That night, she taught me my first lesson. “Next time someone touches you without permission, use a fork to stab their eye.” Dad added, “Go for the throat, too.” The next day, that family disappeared from our social circle. Mom blocked every “momfluencer” on her feed. I was a difficult child. Picky eater, cried a lot, got sick easily. A total princess. Mom would yell, “Eat or starve!” and “Stop crying or I’ll throw you out!” Then she’d immediately call five-star chefs. “Candied apples? What is that? Will it kill a child? No? Fine, get me one too.” “Cotton candy? Ugh, childish… wait, actually, buy a machine.” Dad was even more ridiculous. If I cried, he’d pull out a knife and growl, “Stop or I’ll chop you up!” But if I didn’t stop, he’d panic and throw the knife out the window. Eventually, all sharp objects were banned from the house. Every corner was padded with foam. One day, he discovered that riding on his shoulders made me stop crying. So, every night, this cold-faced CEO would come home, change, and gallop around the living room with a three-year-old on his neck, shouting, “Giddy up! Giddy up!” Mom rolled her eyes from the sofa. “Psychos.” Two weeks later, she joined in. 2 When I was five, I had a fever of 104. I was delirious, too weak to cry, just whimpering in Mom’s arms. The doctor pulled out a needle. Mom exploded. “That needle is huge! Are you trying to kill her?! Will it leave a scar?! She has to wear a bikini someday!” Dad grabbed the doctor by the collar, his voice like liquid nitrogen. “If she dies, you die.” The doctor’s hand shook so hard he almost missed my vein. That night, I woke up to see Dad sitting by my bed, eyes red. He held my tiny hand and whispered, “If you die, Mom and I… we don’t want to live either.” I later learned he almost demolished the hospital. On my sixth birthday, I was kidnapped. The ransom was ten million. Dad listened to the call in silence, then went to the bank and withdrew ten million in cash. The kidnappers kept their word and released me. But during the exchange, a man in a skull mask slapped me. My cheek burned. Tears streamed down my face. In a split second, Dad’s hand was around the man’s throat. “Which hand?” he asked, his tone conversational. Before the kidnapper could answer, Dad pulled out a dagger and started filleting his palm like sashimi. Mom stood nearby applying lipstick. “Too loud,” she complained, glancing at the screaming man. She snapped her fingers. Four men in suits emerged from the shadows. A week later, that kidnapper was found in a pink tutu, dumped in a slum in Mumbai. After that, my bedtime stories changed. Peppa Pig was replaced by Gray’s Anatomy. Sailor Moon became The Anarchist Cookbook. Dad would sit by my bed and coo, “Annie, do you know where to hit someone so it hurts the most but leaves no mark?” He guided my finger to his ribs. “Here. The liver. A sharp punch causes shock, but only leaves a tiny red dot.” Mom was more direct. She gave me a chemistry set. “Red is cyanide, blue causes paralysis, white causes amnesia…” She pinched my cheek. “Girls need to know how to protect themselves.” When I started elementary school, they remembered their old nemesis. They decided to poison his prize-winning bonsai tree and steal his pets. Before I arrived, they lost every battle against this rival. Their win rate was zero. But after I came along, they became undefeated. Mom called me their lucky charm. Their nemesis was a couple named Henry and Sarah. They were Mom’s ex-fiancé and the woman he left her for. Before they got married, Henry fell for Sarah, a bartender. Mom, scorned, pushed them together out of spite. “Why do you hate them, Dad?” I asked. He sighed. “Sarah spilled a drink on me once. Henry thought I was trying to steal his girl and tried to bankrupt me.” I nodded, sharpening my knife. Sworn enemies it is. In school, a fat kid sat behind me and pulled my braids. Mom spent thirty minutes every morning braiding my hair with pearls, and he ruined it. I warned him three times. The fourth time, I grabbed my stainless steel thermos. WHACK. His front tooth flew across the room. He wailed, blood leaking through his fingers. I stood over him, clutching a handful of his hair. The teacher’s voice trembled when she called my parents. “Annie… she knocked his tooth out… and slammed his head…” Thirty minutes later, Dad’s helicopter landed on the playground. He jumped out in a suit, ignoring his assistant chasing him with contracts. “Scram! My daughter committed murder! I need to bury the body!” Mom burst into the office with a sheet mask still on her face. “Who bullied my baby?!” The teacher cowered. “Actually, it was your daughter who…” Dad inspected my knuckles. “Does your hand hurt?” Mom checked my palm. “Ugh, his hair is so greasy. It made your hand red!” The fat kid’s parents tried to yell, but Dad threw a Black Card on the desk. “Dentist, hair plugs, therapy. Put it on the card.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “But if I hear your son touched a single hair on her head again… next time he loses more than a tooth.” The next day, my desk was an island. The fat kid transferred. Mom hummed as she braided my hair. “If anyone messes this up again, we’ll use their bones as hairpins, okay?” I sipped my strawberry milk and nodded vigorously. In high school, I suddenly became a genius. I got first place in every subject. My parents stared at the report card like it was a bomb. Dad: “Is this a misprint?” Mom: “Did she cheat? Should we hire a hacker to check?” 3 That night, a Taoist priest danced around my bed with a wooden sword for an hour. “Strange! Her soul is intact! She hasn’t been possessed!” I ate a popsicle and listened to them argue in the study. Dad: “I failed every subject!” Mom: “I bought my degree!” Dad: “The teacher says she can get into Ivy League!” Mom: “Ivy League? Sounds like a gardening club.” To stop me from “going astray,” they tried to distract me. Mom: “Annie, have you seen that idol show? You’re way prettier than them…” Dad left a book on my desk: How to Use Paparazzi for Fame. They offered to fund a movie for me to star in. I responded by showing them my Gold Medal from the Physics Olympiad. Mom dropped her fork. When my acceptance letter from Stanford arrived, Dad’s hand shook. “My daughter… a scientist?” They threw a banquet at a five-star hotel. Mom toasted everyone, “Oh, we just let her play around, who knew she was smart…” then hid in the bathroom to kiss my acceptance letter until it was covered in lipstick marks. Near the end of the party, Dad pulled me aside. “Bad news. Henry’s adopted son… also got into Stanford.” Mom snapped a nail. “That brat Liam? The math prodigy?” I spun the butterfly knife Dad gave me as a graduation gift. “So?” Dad sighed. “Annie, stay away from him.” Mom agreed. “Yeah, that family is bad luck.” I smiled sweetly. “Okay.” Psych. Sins of the father, punishment of the son. I was going to make Liam kneel and apologize for his dad’s existence. 4 First day of college. My parents were supposed to drop me off. But at dawn, Dad’s phone exploded. “Boss! Henry intercepted our arms shipment in Southeast Asia!” Dad smashed a vase. “That dog!” Mom wasn’t doing better. She was buying my shoes when Sarah walked in and said, “I’ll take these.” Then she smiled at Mom. “Sorry, if you like them, I can buy them for you?” Mom sent me a voice note, screaming. “I need her charity?! That bitch! Annie, go to school yourself! Mama needs to go rip her mouth off!” I sighed. “Don’t break a nail.” I dragged my suitcase to the dorms alone. On a tree-lined path, I bumped into a tall, lean guy. White shirt, black pants, cold profile. Handsome as a painting. I narrowed my eyes. Liam. He looked up. Our eyes met. He nodded politely and walked away. Liam became the campus god on day one. The confession wall was flooded with his photos. Reading in the library, playing basketball, drinking water. Comments: [Three minutes, I need his info!] [Back off, he’s mine!] I scoffed and checked the basketball schedule. The next day, I showed up at the court with a bottle of ice water. The girls screamed as Liam scored a three-pointer. I walked up to him, smiling like an angel. “Water?” The water was spiked with double-dose laxatives. Liam wiped sweat from his forehead, revealing abs. He looked at the water, then at me, and smiled. “Thanks.” Then, he unscrewed the cap… And poured it over his head. The water cascaded down his face, neck, and chest, soaking his white shirt. The crowd gasped. The girls went wild. “Scheming bitch! Trying to seduce him!” I turned to them, smiling. “Yeah, I am. Are you here for charity?” I grabbed a Gatorade from a random girl and dumped it in the trash. “We’re all foxes here, stop acting like bunnies.” I winked at Liam, and while he stared, I poured a second bottle of laxative water onto his limited-edition sneakers. “Oops. Slippery hands.” I walked away.

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1 In my last life, at my own birthday party, my wife Seraphina’s ‘best friend,’ Caleb, cornered me with a smirk and a glass of champagne. “Hey, Ash,” he’d said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Sera had a little too much to drink last night. I was the one who gave her a bath. Don’t take it personally.” I exploded. The fight that followed ended with me screaming for a divorce. To escape the nauseating pair, I agreed to walk away with nothing. I died alone in a dingy rental, succumbing to a sudden illness with no one by my side. After my death, Seraphina’s company went public. Her wedding to Caleb was the event of the season, a sensation that captivated the entire city. Everyone called them a match made in heaven. When my name came up, it was only with a dismissive sigh: “That man… he just wasn’t meant for good fortune.” I opened my eyes. I was back at my birthday party. Caleb was walking toward me again, the same taunt ready on his lips. This time, I didn’t get angry. I smiled. I reached for my best friend, Maya, who had come with me, and linked my arm through hers intimately. As Seraphina and Caleb watched in stunned silence, Maya turned to my wife, whose face had gone rigid, and gave her an innocent blink. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Sera. Ash and I go way back.” Her voice was light, playful, but carried a razor’s edge. “After all… I was his first.” The entire hall fell silent. Seraphina’s face was a canvas of fury, shifting from deathly pale to a mottled, ugly purple, finally settling on a shade so dark it seemed to bleed into the shadows. In that single moment, I felt the foundation of a decade of love crumble into dust. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her wine glass, the veins on the back of her hand standing out like cords. Her composure had shattered. Caleb’s smug expression froze, his face a patchwork of red and white. Maya’s casual remark had utterly demolished his pride. The whispers of the surrounding guests buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets. I kept my arm linked with Maya’s, a perfectly measured smile on my face. “Happy birthday, Sera.” I raised my glass to her in a mock toast, then downed it in one go. Seraphina didn’t move. Her eyes were daggers, promising a slow and painful death. I set my glass down and, taking Maya with me, turned to leave. “Asher!” The name was forced through her clenched teeth, each syllable burning with rage. I didn’t stop. A powerful hand seized my arm, yanking me back so hard that pain shot through my wrist. “Have you made enough of a scene?” she hissed, her voice low and laced with a chilling frost. I looked up at the face I had loved for ten years, a face so familiar it felt etched into my very soul. Now, it was twisted with nothing but fury and impatience. “Let go,” I said. “Come home with me. Stop embarrassing us here.” She tried to drag me toward the exit. Maya stepped between us in a fluid motion. Her hand shot out, grabbing Seraphina’s wrist. With a deceptively casual twist, she broke the hold. Seraphina yelped in pain and released me. “He doesn’t want to go with you, Ms. Sterling,” Maya said, her playful smile back in place, but her eyes were chips of ice. Seraphina shook her hand free and smoothed the wrinkled cuff of her blazer. She looked at me, her gaze overflowing with cold disappointment. “Asher, I thought you knew your place.” “Are you really going to let this… outsider… come between us?” I stared at her. An outsider? My gaze drifted past her to where Caleb stood, watching me with the smug look of a victor. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. “Let’s get a divorce.” The air crackled and went still. She let out a short, sharp laugh, as if I’d just told the world’s most ridiculous joke. “A divorce? Asher, how many times have you used that threat? I’m telling you, don’t push your luck. You want a divorce? Fine. You walk away with nothing. Do you have the guts for that?” She was certain I didn’t. She was sure that the man she supported, the man who lived in her shadow, couldn’t possibly survive without her. In my last life, she was right. I had begged her to stay, and my tears only earned me deeper humiliation. But now… “Fine,” I said, looking her straight in the eye, the two words clear and sharp. The sneer on her face froze. She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to process what she’d just heard. I didn’t give her another chance. “Maya, let’s go.” I turned my back on her. This time, she didn’t stop me. I could feel her searing gaze burning into my back until Maya and I disappeared through the ballroom doors. In the car, Maya broke the silence. “Are you sure about this?” “Yeah.” “She won’t let you go easily.” I watched the city lights streak past the window, blurring into long ribbons of color. “I know.” Back at the penthouse I shared with Seraphina, I didn’t waste a second. I started packing. I didn’t have much. A few sets of clothes, some professional books, and a few heirlooms my father had left me. Just as I was placing a locked rosewood box into my suitcase, the bedroom door opened. Caleb was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed. He was wearing one of Seraphina’s silk robes, the front open to reveal his chest. He looked every bit the man of the house. “Packing so late, Ash?” His eyes fell on my suitcase, his contempt unconcealed. “Sera sent me to check on you. She was worried you might do something stupid.” I ignored him and zipped the suitcase shut. He sauntered into the room and picked up a handcrafted brass spinning top from my desk. It was the first gift I’d ever given Seraphina, something I’d made for her myself in a metalworking class in college. She had loved it, always keeping it on her bedside table. “This little thing is so ugly,” Caleb said, fiddling with it, his fingers tracing its surface with casual disdain. Clatter. The top fell to the marble floor, a deep, ugly dent marring its surface. “Oops. My hand slipped,” he said, spreading his hands. There was no apology in his eyes, only the raw pleasure of provocation. In my last life, that would have sent me into a blind rage. I would have lunged at him. But now, I just glanced at the broken toy on the floor. Then I looked up at him and smiled. “It’s fine. It’s just trash I was going to throw out anyway.” Caleb’s smirk vanished. I walked past him, suitcase in hand, ready to leave. As I passed, I paused and leaned in close to his ear. My voice was a whisper, meant only for him. “Caleb, you know that cheap men’s cologne she wears sometimes? Guess how long it took me to get used to the smell of you on her?” The color drained from his face, leaving it a sickly white. I didn’t look at him again. I walked out of the home I had lived in for five years without a backward glance. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sound of something inside being smashed violently against a wall. I settled into the apartment Maya had found for me. The next morning, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. The second I answered, her voice, shrill and accusatory, assaulted my ear. “Asher! What the hell were you thinking last night? Do you have any idea how much you humiliated our family?” “You ruined Sera’s birthday! Have you no shame?” I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for her to finish her tirade. “Are you done?” I asked calmly. There was a pause on the other end, as if she was shocked by my reaction. “What kind of attitude is that? You listen to me! You are going to go and apologize to Seraphina right now! And to Caleb! Caleb is a good kid, stop picking on him!” “We’re getting a divorce, Eleanor.” “What nonsense is this? A divorce? I forbid it!” Her voice was as sharp as a razor blade. “This is between Seraphina and me.” “Asher, don’t be an ungrateful fool! Who do you think you are? Without Sera, you’re nothing! Absolutely nothing!” I hung up. The world went quiet. A few moments later, a text message arrived. A notification from my bank. Every single one of my credit cards had been frozen. It was immediately followed by a text from Seraphina. “Let’s see how you like having no money, Asher. When you’ve had time to think, when you realize you were wrong, you can come crawling back to me.” The message ended with a single, imperious period. I deleted the text and opened a luxury consignment app. One by one, I listed the watches I had never dared to wear and the designer suits that had hung untouched in my closet. They were all things I had bought with my own money before the marriage. Now, they would be the seed money for my new life. That afternoon, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller identified himself as an organizer for the Aurora Gala, a high-profile charity auction. “Mr. Evans? Hello. We’ve been informed by Ms. Sterling that your VIP seat for the event has been canceled.” “Additionally, the tea set she submitted for auction, titled ‘The Dawn,’ she specifically requested that the artist credit be changed to Mr. Caleb Thorne.” I held the phone, silent for a few seconds. In my last life, this was the very tea set that launched Caleb’s career as a “design prodigy.” For Seraphina, the successful charity marketing stunt paved the way for her company’s IPO. No one knew that the true creator of the set was a long-dead master craftsman named Elias Vance. And I just so happened to be his last and only student. The Aurora Gala was the society event of the year. Seraphina had poured massive resources into it. She needed a flawless PR moment to elevate her company’s image and build hype for an upcoming product launch. Caleb’s debut as a “design prodigy” was the centerpiece of the whole spectacle. In my last life, I was locked away at home, forced to watch on the news as they took the stage together, bathed in the blinding light of flashbulbs. Seraphina had announced with magnanimous flair that all proceeds from ‘The Dawn’ would be donated to children in need. Caleb stood beside her, looking thoughtful and modest as he described his “creative journey.” They received a standing ovation. And I, like a rat hiding in the shadows, had watched it all, consumed by a helpless, burning jealousy. This life, I wouldn’t give them the chance. I didn’t contact the media. I didn’t try to find evidence. The best way to deal with arrogance is to let it be the cause of its own spectacular fall. I pulled out the design sketches my master, Elias Vance, had left me. Tucked into the last page was a yellowed letter. It was written to me shortly before he passed away. In it, he mentioned the proudest creation of his later years. A piece he loved so much he had never shown it to anyone, nor had he ever signed it. He described the tea set in meticulous detail, including the small, unique “V” mark he had stamped into the center of the teapot’s base using a special glaze. That tea set was “The Dawn.” I made a phone call. “Hello, is this Alistair Finch?” A gruff, elderly voice answered. “Who is this?” “My name is Asher Evans. I was the student of Elias Vance.” Alistair Finch was the country’s foremost art authenticator and one of my master’s closest friends. He was a man of rigid principles who despised nothing more than fraud and plagiarism in the art world. “Ah, Asher. What can I do for you?” “Mr. Finch, I need to ask for your help.” I didn’t go into detail. I only mentioned that a piece bearing a striking resemblance to Elias Vance’s style might be appearing at the Aurora Gala. “I just feel,” I said, my voice carefully measured, “that my master’s work shouldn’t be forgotten. And it certainly shouldn’t be stolen by a charlatan.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “I understand.” That was all I needed. On the night of the auction, I didn’t go. I stayed home and watched the live stream. On the screen, Seraphina stood under the spotlights, dressed in a tailored black suit, the picture of a powerful, competent executive. Beside her, Caleb was the image of gentle artistry in a white tuxedo. Behind them, on a massive screen, was “The Dawn.” The porcelain was as luminous as jade, the glaze soft and warm. When the light hit it, it seemed to glow from within, as if holding a piece of the morning sun. It was breathtakingly beautiful. “This set, ‘The Dawn,’ is the result of three years of dedicated work by Caleb,” Seraphina’s magnetic voice filled the hall. “It represents new beginnings and hope.” She looked at Caleb with an expression of pure admiration and affection. He nodded gracefully, playing his part to perfection. The room erupted in applause. The bidding began, and the price climbed rapidly, quickly soaring past seven figures. Just as the auctioneer was about to bring the hammer down, a figure rose from the front row. It was Alistair Finch. He leaned on a cane, his hair white, but his eyes were sharp and clear. “Ms. Sterling, if I may, a question for the artist?” Every eye in the room turned to him. Seraphina, who clearly recognized the titan of the art world, managed a polite smile. “Of course, Mr. Finch. Please.” “This tea set is, without a doubt, a masterpiece. However, the lines of the pot, the delicate curve of the cup’s rim… they are identical to the style of my late friend, the master craftsman Elias Vance.” His voice wasn’t loud, but the microphone carried it to every corner of the hall. “Mr. Thorne, may I ask who your mentor was?” 2 The color drained from Caleb’s face. He shot a panicked, pleading look at Seraphina, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word. Seraphina’s smile was frozen in place, a flicker of sheer panic in her eyes. “Mr. Finch, you must be mistaken. Similarities in design style are quite common.” “Are they?” Alistair’s gaze was sharp behind his glasses. “In his later years, Elias Vance perfected a ‘seamless body’ technique for firing thin-walled porcelain. It was a method he never shared with anyone. I’m curious, Mr. Thorne, where did you learn it?” A wave of murmurs swept through the venue. Every gaze shifted from the beautiful art on the screen to the pale, sweating face of the man on the stage. The camera flashes were relentless, like daggers trying to slash through his fraudulent mask. I closed the live stream, picked up my glass of red wine, and gave it a gentle swirl. The show was just getting started. The auction devolved into a complete farce. Alistair Finch’s reputation was unassailable; his accusation carried the weight of absolute authority. The “design prodigy” was exposed as a “plagiarizing fraud” overnight. The news was everywhere. Tycoon’s Secret: Charity Auction Rocked by Forgery Scandal, CEO’s Best Friend Accused of Design Fraud. Art World Titan Exposes Fake Genius on Stage. Seraphina’s company stock plummeted. Her meticulously planned PR triumph had turned into a PR catastrophe. I could only imagine the chaos she was dealing with. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before my phone rang. It was Seraphina. I let it ring. The ringing stopped, and a text message appeared. “Where are you? Get out here now!” It reeked of impotent fury. I typed out a leisurely reply. “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Sterling? I believe we’re no longer associated.” Her reply was instantaneous. “This was you, wasn’t it? Asher, why would you do this?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Are you happy now that you’ve ruined me?!” I looked at the words on the screen and smiled. Ruined her? No. I had simply reclaimed what belonged to my master. The person who had truly ruined her was herself, with her own greed and foolishness. I didn’t reply again. The next day, I went to the bank and withdrew all the money I’d made from selling my watches and suits. Then, I used it to register a business. A studio. I called it “Vance Heritage.” In memory of my master, Elias Vance. I was busy setting up the space when Maya arrived. She was carrying bags of food and a bottle of champagne. “A toast,” she said with a grin, “to the future of our great Mr. Evans.”

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My daughter has been missing for six years, and there has been no news of her. Late one night, I couldn’t help but go into her old room again. As I stared entranced at the portrait of her on the wall, I heard her crying coming from inside the wall. “Mommy, it’s so cold inside the wall.” 1 My heart skipped a beat. To explain this, I have to start with the crying I’ve been hearing late at night recently. Six years ago, ever since my daughter disappeared, it has been a sickness in my heart. But lately, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I went to see a therapist. I wanted some comfort, but instead… The therapist looked at me seriously and asked: “Have you been sleepwalking lately? Touched anything unclean?” She made it sound so mysterious. I shook my head immediately. The therapist glanced at my husband, signaling him to leave the room first, saying she needed to do a psychological evaluation on me. But as soon as the door closed, she asked again. “Have you been hearing someone crying in your ear late at night recently?” I nodded. “It’s probably your daughter missing you.” I was shocked: “But isn’t she already…” “However, I must warn you to be careful of the people around you, especially…” I quickly interrupted her. “But… but what does my daughter’s disappearance have to do with the people around me?” Only at the end did I realize there was a hidden meaning in her words. Before I could react, she dropped another hint. “You know the saying ‘the darkest place is under the candlestick,’ right?” I nodded. “But my husband loves me so much… how could he…” “You probably have secrets you can’t tell anyone either, right? Probably even your husband doesn’t know!” I clenched my fists tightly. She added. “If you don’t pull out this thorn, you’ll only sink deeper…” Sink deeper into what? My daughter’s crying at night? The therapist was ambiguous. My daughter had been missing for six years. I had suspected neighbors, people in the community, even strangers on the street. But I had never suspected my husband, Arthur Thorne. Because it was impossible. “Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” After returning home that day, I started observing my husband quietly. I tested him from time to time. “Honey, Lily has been missing for so many years. Do you think she’s still alive?” My husband showed no abnormality; his hands didn’t even stop working. He looked at me calmly and said: “I hope so. But if she were alive, she would have come back to find us, right?” I glanced at him and said lightly: “Honey, I’ve been hearing our daughter crying late at night recently…” 2 Hearing this, Arthur looked up sharply, and the bowl in his hand smashed onto the floor. He grabbed my hand tightly. “Where… where did you hear it?” Our daughter “Lily Thorne”—her name has always been a taboo in our house. In the years she’s been missing, we tacitly agreed not to mention her. But subconsciously I knew she must be dead. I just held onto a “fantasy” about her. I still remember. When Lily first learned to walk, she limped. As she grew older, she stayed the same. Later, we went to the hospital and found out. She had congenital polio. This made our already struggling family even worse off. Arthur and I worried all night without sleeping. But we couldn’t think of a solution. We could barely put food on the table, and Arthur had lost his job… It seemed hopeless no matter what. But the next day, Arthur looked at me calmly and said: “Don’t worry, leave this to me.” I quickly asked: “How will you handle it?” He said impatiently: “Just stay out of it.” I stood there in disbelief, looking up and down at this honest man who had always been simple and never lost his temper with me. But he didn’t care at all. “Something that shouldn’t have been born in the first place, and a sick one at that. Besides being a bottomless pit for money, what’s the point of keeping it?” I was speechless with shock. Who would believe these words came from a man who loved his wife and child? “Do you… really think that?!” “Enough, stay out of it. I’ll do it. You won’t be involved.” I remember clearly that he sent me to the countryside overnight. When I returned, our daughter was gone. At first, I couldn’t accept it. After all, she was flesh of my flesh. Just gone like that. I had to find out. I questioned Arthur like a madwoman every day. Where did he take our daughter? Even just letting me take a peek at her from behind would be enough. But every time, Arthur would hold me tight. “Breathe deep. Yes, deep breath.” He said lightly: “It’s fate. I took Lily shopping that day, and she got lost in the blink of an eye. Maybe she’s enjoying a good life in someone else’s home.” Over time, I stopped asking. But fate seemed to play a huge joke on me. That day, inadvertently, I saw… In Arthur’s phone history, a search entry read— “How long does quick-drying cement take to set?” And the time was exactly the night I went back to the countryside! My scalp went numb instantly. I remembered the doctor’s words again. A terrible thought shuttled back and forth in my mind… I rummaged through the rooms like crazy, but found nothing. Right, there was one more room. Pushing open my daughter’s room again, everything was the same. Except there was a portrait of her on the wall that I hadn’t seen before. In the painting, she was smiling at me. This was the first time in all these years. Arthur laid his cards on the table about our daughter’s disappearance. He said: “No one wanted her, so I had to sell her.” I screamed at him hysterically. “Did you sell her? Or… bury her?” He looked up in shock, clenched his fists, and finally spat out two cold words. “Buried…” My scalp tingled with shock, and I broke down crying instantly. I didn’t expect him to admit it just like that! I couldn’t control myself; I grabbed a knife and slashed at him recklessly. As for where our daughter was buried? Neither Arthur nor I mentioned it, but he knew perfectly well! And I could vaguely sense it too. But from that day on, I had nightmares every day. Especially recently. I could always hear my daughter crying. Even the therapist told me to find the source. “If you don’t pull out this thorn, no one will have peace!” 3 Late that night. I heard my daughter crying again. She cried and said: “Mommy, it’s so dark in the wall. “Mommy, it’s so cold in the wall. “Mommy, why don’t you come find me?” I woke up in a cold sweat again. Since knowing what Arthur did, I never went into my daughter’s room again. And he added three locks to it. He said it was for my safety. I didn’t understand. What was unsafe about it! But this desolate crying seemed to have magic, dragging me to investigate. Because the rent was cheap, we rented the apartment furthest inside next to the stairs. And my daughter’s room was the innermost one. I went to the utility room to get some tools and a flashlight. I tiptoed to the door of the innermost room. But for some reason, I felt a chill on my back. Just as I hesitated whether to open the door, I heard that eerie yet desolate cry again. “Mommy, it’s so cold in the wall. “Mommy, come save me.” Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat. My hands moved faster involuntarily to open the door. One lock, two locks… finally, the door to my daughter’s room was opened again. To prevent my husband from finding out, I immediately locked the door from the inside. Unexpectedly, just as I stood firm, laughter rang out in the room. “Hee hee, come here, come here~ “Guess where I am.” Because of the unpleasant experience with Arthur last time. Although not explicitly stated, in the whole room, only that extra painting was weird. That portrait was nearly as tall as a person. I stared fixedly at my daughter’s face. But just taking a step. The painting tilted a corner visibly. And the daughter laughing heartily in the painting was shedding two lines of bloody tears… As if she wanted to climb out of the painting… I stepped back in fear. Rubbed my eyes quickly and shone the flashlight on the painting. Looked again. The portrait wasn’t tilted, and my daughter was still smiling… I tentatively called out softly. “Lily?” No response, dead silence around. It seemed I was overthinking. Probably psychological effects, seeing illusions. After comforting myself, I walked slowly towards the portrait. “Click, click, click…” One step, two steps, three steps… My daughter’s room had no windows, especially after she disappeared. My husband had the whole room sealed. It was pitch black around, not a trace of light, terrifyingly quiet. Only the beam of the flashlight illuminating my daughter’s smiling face. Eerie. I searched the whole house, leaving only my daughter’s room, and only here was there an extra painting. As if covering up something. If he wanted to hide something, then… Trembling, I yanked the painting open. But there was nothing behind it. Just as I planned to get closer and check carefully. A large patch of red liquid suddenly oozed from the wall. And a corner of a plastic candy wrapper. I knew that was Lily’s favorite! I backed away in horror. Although I had a premonition, seeing it with my own eyes was hard to accept immediately. I had to admit— My daughter wasn’t missing! She was sealed in the wall by Arthur! I broke down on the spot. Crying out of breath. “Let me out.” Suddenly, a cry came over. I immediately covered my mouth desperately, my heart in my throat. Lily? Impossible! Leaving aside being sealed in the wall for so many years, she would have become a dried corpse long ago! Even if it were just a few days, a person couldn’t be alive! But this crying was indeed Lily’s! Was someone playing a prank? But only Arthur and I knew about this. What exactly was going on? Before I could figure it out, scratching sounds came from inside the wall. As if desperately trying to crawl out… I sat on the floor in fright. Only then did I realize with a start, it definitely wasn’t my daughter inside! I struggled to run out. But my hands were trembling, and I couldn’t open the door locked from the inside no matter what. Suddenly, eerie voices filled the room. One after another, crying then laughing. “Mommy, don’t you want me anymore either? “Mommy, why did you come to find me so late? “Mommy, it’s so dark in the wall. “Mommy, I can’t breathe. “Mommy, it’s so cold in the wall…” Trembling, I tried to pry open the lock. But I couldn’t open it now! The voice that was far away just now suddenly seemed to be right in my ear… As if whispering against my ear, eerily. “Mommy, it’s so dark in the wall~ “Join me.” Terrified, I hugged my head and collapsed on the floor. I was cold all over, desperately clawing at the door. But something behind me seemed to be pulling me into the wall… My mind knew. But my body couldn’t exert any strength… Suddenly, I heard Arthur calling me. Using my last bit of strength, I scrambled out of the room. 4 In the middle of the night, I curled up at the foot of the bed, trembling all over. Arthur looked at the terrified me. No need to ask, he guessed most of it. With a dark face, he said: “I put three locks on it, and you still tried to be brave?” Calming down, I stared at him blankly. “Arthur, Lily is our biological daughter after all. We wronged her first. “Let’s hire someone to perform a ritual and bury her properly, okay?” Arthur looked surprised; he looked at me for a long time. Finally, he said impatiently: “What ritual? It’s all nonsense.” “But haven’t you heard our daughter crying lately?” He snorted coldly. “How superstitious have you become? “Just wait, tomorrow I’ll smash that wall!” Arthur disappeared early the next morning. Just as I was about to call him. The therapist called. She asked how I was doing lately. I didn’t tell her what I encountered last night. Thinking of someone pulling me into the wall fiercely. My scalp went numb instantly. So all these years my daughter was missing, she was actually sealed inside the wall of her room! How dared he! But logically, she should have weathered into a dried corpse long ago. But how to explain the series of strange events recently? I was afraid, but couldn’t break free. I went to the therapist again. The session took longer than ever. When I came back, it was already dark. But as soon as I opened the door, I was startled. Arthur stood before me, disheveled, with fear in his eyes. One look at him, and I knew. Bad news! He definitely touched our daughter’s room. I immediately grabbed his arm and stared at him fiercely. “Didn’t we say we’d hire someone for a ritual first, then bury her? Why did you…” But Arthur was obviously scared by something; he muttered. “I just, just wanted to confirm, who knew…” I immediately realized something was wrong. Panicked and red-eyed, I roared at him. “Who knew what?” Arthur’s hand trembled as he pointed to the innermost room. “Daughter… is… in her room!”

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I’ve died 30 times already. Every time, killed by a man in a black ski mask. I’ve struggled, ran, hid, even called the police. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. I still die, right on time, at 2:40 AM. Finally, on the 31st struggle, I ripped off his mask. I never expected what stared back at me. A face that had aged a decade. My own face. 1 My name is Ethan Carter. I’m just a regular guy working the night shift at a convenience store. Couldn’t find a decent job after college, so I’m stuck here on the outskirts of town, barely scraping by. No family, no friends, not even a cat. Maybe that’s why nobody noticed I’ve died thirty times. The first time I woke up in the loop, I thought it was a nightmare. Until the searing pain of the blade dragged me back to reality. The second time, I tried to call 911. But the landline was dead, and my cell service vanished. The third time, I hid behind the shelves. The killer found me effortlessly, like he knew exactly where I’d be. The fourth time, I grabbed the biggest wine bottle I could find. He dodged it like it was nothing, and the blade still found my heart. Ten times. Twenty. Thirty. Each death was terrifyingly real. I tried everything: running out the front door (intercepted), hiding in the bathroom (dragged out), playing dead (stabbed anyway), even piling all the cash on the counter. He ignored the money and killed me. His movements were precise, professional. He knew every inch of the store like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times. This wasn’t a robbery. It was an execution. Why me? Why this store? Why do I have to die, over and over, only to wake up in front of the ice cream freezer? Tonight, the 31st loop, I decided on a different strategy. I’m going to memorize every detail. Every move. Every habit. If I can’t stop my death, I at least want to know why I’m dying. 2 Time ticked away, second by agonizing second. I stood by the freezer, forcing myself to breathe. The loop gave me one advantage: I knew the future. The killer would enter through the back door, take five steps to the corner aisle, eight steps to the register, then lunge straight for me. He had a slight limp in his right leg. An old injury? A habit? He always held the knife the same way: left hand in his pocket, right hand holding the blade low, edge down. A classic ambush stance. He never spoke. Never took the money. His target was always me. I pulled out the inventory log and scribbled these observations down, knowing the ink would vanish in the next loop. 2:39 AM. I shifted my position, standing to the side of the register instead of behind it. 2:40 AM. A faint click from the back door… He’s here. I held my breath, pretending to organize candy bars, keeping the back door in my peripheral vision. The shadow arrived on cue. Familiar footsteps. Familiar path. But this time, I saw more. A scar on his left wrist, visible when his sleeve rode up. He was my height, my build. But faster. More decisive. When he neared the register and saw I wasn’t in my usual spot, he paused for a split second. Now! I grabbed the fire extinguisher I’d prepped and blasted it in his face. He wasn’t expecting that. He stumbled, but his reaction was insane. He sidestepped, dodging most of the spray. That wasn’t a normal reflex. Still, the white cloud bought me a few seconds. I dropped the extinguisher and grabbed the mop, charging him. This was the first time I attacked. No more waiting to die. We grappled in the haze of chemical powder. He was stronger, more skilled than any average joe. But I had rage. I had the experience of thirty deaths. During a dodge, I saw his sleeve slip again. That scar was clearer now. It looked like a surgical scar. Right over the pulse point. Why did it look so familiar? Before I could process it, he recovered. The blade flashed. This time, dying hurt more than ever. But I was closer to the truth than I’d ever been. 3 I opened my eyes in front of the freezer. No fear this time. I had a plan. 2:37 AM. I marched straight to the security office and pulled up the feeds. I’d ignored the cameras before. There were six. Maybe they caught something I missed. The office was tiny, just an old monitor split into six grainy views. I fast-forwarded through yesterday’s footage. Weird. Starting at 2:00 AM, the feed glitched. Static. Jumps. Like interference. And at 2:40 AM, the moment he entered, all cameras blacked out for a full second. Not a coincidence. I switched to the live feed. 2:39 AM. Camera 4 caught a shadow lurking by the back door. He’s here. I picked up the landline in the office and dialed 911. “This is the Southside Mart. Someone’s breaking in. Send help now!” Silence for a beat. Then a calm female voice: “Address, please?” I rattled it off, eyes glued to the screen. The figure had popped the lock. He was creeping in. “Officers will be there in five minutes. Stay safe.” Five minutes? I didn’t have five minutes. I watched him get closer on the screen. Then, an idea. The panic button. It was wired directly to the station. I slammed the red button. A piercing alarm screamed through the store. On screen, the killer flinched. But he didn’t run. He moved faster. He knew he was on a clock. I grabbed the baton from under the desk and hid behind the door. When he burst into the office, I swung with everything I had. Crack! I hit his shoulder. He staggered back. First time I ever had the upper hand. While he was off balance, I swung again. A glancing blow to the head. The black mask slipped, revealing a strand of gray hair. My heart pounded. Finally. I was going to see the face of the monster who killed me thirty times. I lunged and ripped the mask off. I froze. It was a face I knew better than anyone’s. But worn. Weathered. It was me. But older. Ten, maybe fifteen years older. Deep set eyes. Exhausted. A scar on the forehead. Even the mole on the chin was identical. Future Me looked at me with cold determination. “Get out of the way, Ethan!” His voice was raspy, but it was my voice. Just… broken. I stumbled back. “You… you’re me? Why are you killing me?” “Our daughter has a rare blood disease. If I don’t get the money, Lily… Lily dies!” Daughter? I didn’t even have a girlfriend. Before I could ask, Future Me raised the knife. His eyes were dead. “I’m sorry. But it’s the only way she lives.” As the blade pierced my chest, my brain was still reeling. The killer was me. 4 I woke up gasping. Not from fear, but from shock. Lily. The name echoed in my head. My daughter? My future daughter? Why would Future Me kill Past Me to save her? That’s a paradox. 2:20 AM. I sat at the register and booted up the computer. I needed answers. I googled “Lily” + “rare blood disease.” Too many hits. I searched “extremely expensive blood disorder treatments.” One stood out. Heimann-Faber Syndrome. Rare genetic disorder. Less than 500 cases worldwide. Treatment costs millions. Was this it? But why kill me? Robbing a convenience store for a few grand wouldn’t make a dent in those bills. Unless… it wasn’t just about money. I searched “time travel” + “ethics” + “paradox.” Skimmed through sci-fi theories and physics papers. 2:39 AM. I shut down the computer and stood behind the counter. Waiting. This time, I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t fight. I’d talk. When the figure entered, I spoke up. “Lily needs treatment for Heimann-Faber Syndrome, right?” He faltered. Just a step. Then kept coming. “I know who you are. I know why you’re here,” I said quickly. “But killing me won’t help. We can figure this out together.” He stopped. I could feel his gaze burning through the mask. “You know nothing. It’s too late. There is no other way.” “Tell me the truth!” I shouted. “Why this store? Why tonight? Why me?” He didn’t answer, just kept advancing. I noticed something. He clutched his chest occasionally. It wasn’t just his daughter. He was sick too. “You’re dying too, aren’t you?” I asked. That stopped him. He pulled off the mask. That face. My face. Etched with pain. “Listen to me. You will never understand unless you live through what I lived through.” “Lily needs a bone marrow transplant. But we aren’t a match anymore. Because…” He doubled over, coughing. I stepped forward to help. He waved the knife warningly. “Because what?” “Because time travel changed me. It changed everything.” He gritted his teeth, pulled the mask back down, and charged. Dying this time felt different. My last thought was of a daughter I’d never met.

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