Category: English

It was a Latin ballroom aerial spin, and my husband, my dance partner, didn’t catch me. I fell to the floor, leaving me completely paralyzed. Noah frantically slapped himself, claiming it was an accident, swearing he’d care for me for life. He tearfully claimed financial strain forced him to stop paying my medical bills, only to turn around and buy his ex-girlfriend a custom-made haute couture dance outfit. I lost the critical window for treatment and would be bedridden for life. I grieved for my broken body, when I accidentally overheard him on a call with his buddy: “Are you being too cruel to Aria?! You deliberately didn’t catch her just so Skylar could win the championship.” Noah was silent for a long moment. “I’ve wronged Aria, but I’ll take responsibility for her until the end! Even though she’s lost her legs and her dream, she has my complete love!” Staring at my life, a dark abyss, I slit my wrists. As my blood splattered, Noah, with red eyes, claimed he regretted it.

“Why are your eyes so red? Are your legs hurting again?” Noah’s voice, as always, was gentle when he hung up the phone. For a moment, I couldn’t tell which was the real him. “The dance troupe just called, they want me to go over.” The dance troupe? Weren’t you just mocking me with your buddy? I stared intently at him, trying to find a hint of a lie in his gaze. He awkwardly tilted his head. That’s his tell when he’s lying. “The dance troupe said they could lend me some money so I can pay for your treatment.” I scoffed. It was only a few days ago, when the nurse came to urge payment, that I found out many of my treatment fees were overdue. That’s why I couldn’t get physical therapy. When I asked Noah, he looked troubled. “Paying for your legs drained my savings, but don’t worry, I’ll cover the costs even if I have to take out a loan.” I kept waiting. Until yesterday, when the doctor gave me the devastating diagnosis: “Missed the optimal treatment window, regaining the ability to stand will be difficult.” That’s when I understood my life was over; I’d forever be a bird in a cage. “Okay, you go.” I lay down, not clinging to him for company as I usually did. Only after the hospital room door closed did I bury my face and weep. I sobbed myself into a daze until I fell asleep, only to be woken by the TV news. It was Skylar. She had just won another Latin dance competition, surrounded by reporters for interviews. I saw myself before I was paralyzed: I was always first in every major competition, surrounded by countless reporters, showered with congratulations. “Skylar, who do you want to thank most for winning this championship?” “My first love. Thank you for always being there for me, encouraging me, and even buying me my dance outfit!” “Oh, and it looks like it’s a specially customized haute couture outfit!!” “Oh, whether it’s haute couture or not isn’t important! But he’s truly wonderful to me! Oh, come on! Don’t be so nosy!” Skylar’s pretty face flushed slightly, and she happily glanced to the side. In the corner of the camera, there was a hint of a light blue sleeve. That was the color of Noah’s shirt today. I nervously squeezed my hands. What if it was just a coincidence? What if it was just the same brand? I called the dance troupe director. My heart pounded with each ring of the phone.

“Noah? He didn’t tell me he was coming over!” He abandoned my surgery to celebrate Skylar’s championship win. Even knowing what the outcome would be, I still desperately needed confirmation. I looked at Skylar’s dance outfit, glittering with diamonds and incredibly luxurious, and couldn’t help but run my hands over my numb legs. So, “tight on money” and “forced to delay treatment payments” were just your lies. I sniffled, trying to hold back tears. “Director, I’d like to see the video of the competition from the day I fell.” The director was surprised. Before, I had always resisted this, even talking about it would make me break down. I fast-forwarded to the part where I fell. I leaped into the air; Noah’s body swayed, and the hand that was supposed to catch me paused five centimeters away from my body. I fell heavily to the ground. Immediately after, there was his gasp of alarm and his frantic attempt to help me up. Anyone watching would only think it was an accident. But recalling Noah’s nonchalant tone on the phone, I felt his swaying body, his hesitating hand, were so deliberate. For Skylar, he made me paralyzed, ruined my life. But he was the one who ignited my dream. During college, I repeatedly hit roadblocks in Latin dance competitions and had poor results. I decided to give up dancing after one last performance. The music had just stopped when I heard applause. “I’m truly grateful that such an excellent dancer exists in this world, allowing me to witness such beautiful dancing!” His voice was filled with undisguised admiration. That was the first time I met Noah. Two strangers who knew nothing of each other: one venting about future uncertainties; the other encouraging me not to give up my dream. I put on my dance shoes again, and after graduation, I reunited with Noah. I was filled with joy, yet I was rejected by major dance competitions at the peak of my career. After much asking around, I learned I’d been blacklisted by Noah’s ex-girlfriend, Skylar. Unable to afford my mom’s surgery, and seeing the critical illness notice, I knelt before Skylar. She made no demands on me, not even the typical “leave Noah” drama you see in TV shows. She just gave me a faint glance, making me understand the vast chasm between us. Skylar showed mercy, but my mom still missed the optimal treatment window and passed away. I dared not blame anyone, only weep bitterly in the dead of night, clutching my mom’s clothes. After I got together with Noah, I once brought this up to him. He was silent for a long moment. “Skylar can be a bit willful, don’t take it to heart.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Could a simple “willful” cover up the crime of causing my mother’s death? Noah irritably tugged at his tie. “So what do you want me to do? Hold her accountable for something irreversible?” “You can’t blame Skylar for this; it’s purely because you, as her daughter, were incompetent, which led to your mother’s untreatable death!” I was incompetent? I won every competition I entered! But I didn’t dare talk back. Afraid my peaceful life would be ruined by Skylar again.

I watched the video again and again until Noah returned. He walked over, and seeing me watching the competition video, a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Don’t watch these, it’ll just upset you, and I’ll feel terrible.” His face was full of tenderness, but my heart was filled with mockery. “Didn’t you orchestrate this? Weren’t you behind all of this?” The words were barely out of my mouth when Noah, seemingly hurt by my attitude, his voice turned sharp. “What are you talking about? Aria, I’ve cared for you with all my heart since your accident, and this is how you see me?” “If it weren’t for me, with your leg broken this morning, your gambling addict father would have already abandoned you for dead, perhaps even selling your remains to cover his debts!” The more he spoke, the more genuine he sounded, wearing an expression that said, “How could you be so unreasonable?” “Wasn’t it for Skylar?” My voice was icy. “I…” The color drained from Noah’s face, and all the words he was about to say caught in his throat. “It’s not what you think.” After a long moment, Noah spoke, his voice dry. “When I gave her up back then, I wronged her.” “That’s *your* wronging of her, what does that have to do with me? Why should my legs be the price of your compensation to her? I’m not some mistress!” I was losing control. “Calm down! Look at it from another angle, it’s not all bad.” “I’ve repaid my debt to Skylar, and now I can fully devote myself to you, with no more ties to her.” “Even though you can’t walk anymore, you have *all* of me now!” I literally couldn’t believe my ears. “What’s so great about having a bastard like you?! I just want my body back!” After losing my legs, the brokenness of my body wore away all my strength. I couldn’t calmly love anyone anymore. Noah’s eyes instantly turned cold. “Looks like you haven’t realized you’ll be living off my charity for the rest of your life.” Soon, I understood the meaning of Noah’s words. I wanted a drink of water, but my wheelchair got stuck on the rug. “You stay here and reflect. Think about what kind of attitude you should have toward me from now on.” Noah slammed the door shut and left, a smug look on his face. I felt my mouth go dry, staring at the water glass just within reach. The thirst gradually morphed into a searing pain that scorched my soul. I don’t know how much time passed, when an uncontrollable urge to urinate swept over me. My catheter needed changing. Usually, Noah would change it for me at this time. I bit my lip tightly, furiously pressing the wheelchair’s control lever. The wheelchair shook violently, and I tumbled to the floor. I didn’t even care about the pain. I quickly crawled toward the bathroom. I desperately tried to arch my body, but still couldn’t resist my body’s needs. A warm sensation soaked my pants. I clenched my fists, wishing I could just die right there. The uncontrollable humiliation shattered my self-esteem far more than any verbal abuse. Not until the next morning, when the caregiver arrived. The caregiver lifted me onto the bed, deftly pulling off my pants, then unceremoniously wiping between my legs with a towel. I was turned over and over by her hands, like a dead pig waiting to be butchered. She looked disgustedly at the soiled items in her hand, constantly complaining, “It stinks! Can’t even control her own piss and crap.” “If I were you, I’d just die! Living is just wasting air and food.” I was shaking with rage, my teeth chattering. “This is your job, my husband pays you handsomely…” Before I could finish, the caregiver shoved my soiled pants into my mouth. The foul smell assaulted my nostrils, making me feel faint. “Shut up! Still making trouble even in this state! Mr. Noah is just taking pity on you, giving you a meal, just like he’d feed a stray dog on the street!” “For a rich man like Mr. Noah, money is just a number. His most precious asset is time, and his time is spent on…” The caregiver sneered, not finishing her sentence. But I understood what she meant. Half an hour ago, the dance troupe’s official SnapChat account posted some photos. Noah and Skylar embracing and dancing on a grand stage, with all eyes focused on them. That was something I could never achieve again in this lifetime. Why were my life and love so painful? I slit my wrist. As my blood stained the floor, I couldn’t help but wickedly wonder what Noah’s reaction would be. Sadness? Maybe he’d feel relieved to get rid of this burden! I thought death was the end, but surprisingly, my soul floated beside my body. My colleagues from the dance troupe were the first to come see me. “Oh my God, how could Aria be so desperate!”

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Everyone in the city’s most powerful circles knew Julian Sterling was obsessed with my skin, pristine as moonlight. He even splurged a fortune to build a suspended crystal palace, just so he could sketch the most exquisite artworks on my body as dusk bled into night. He called me his greatest living masterpiece. But masterpieces, once touched by the mundane, become flawed. So, in the inferno that consumed his entire art gallery, he chose to salvage the cold canvases, leaving me to burn in the flames. As I lay dying on the frigid operating table, I heard his voice crystal clear, addressing the surgeon— “Be careful. Don’t ruin this skin.” “Seraphina is waiting to wear it.” They all believed I had turned to ash in that fire. But I came back. From the scorched earth, I rose again, a broken body reborn, and I came back for revenge. At the Sterling Corp’s charity gala, I saw my skin. It was on another woman. I wore an artistic veil, watching my ex-husband, Julian Sterling, with his new arm candy, Seraphina Hayes, as they stole the spotlight. Under the flashing lights, the skin on Seraphina’s back was flawless and luminous, so beautiful it was impossible to look away. It shimmered like pure moonlight, earning it the media’s nickname, “Moonlight Skin.” But it was mine. My gloved fingertips curled into a tight fist. The agonizing pain of being flayed alive three years ago felt like it was tearing through my nerves all over again. Julian basked in the admiring glances. He wrapped an arm around Seraphina, speaking in that familiar, overly sincere, utterly fake tone of his: “Many of you know my deceased wife, Stella Nova, once possessed the most perfect skin in the world.” I almost laughed out loud. Deceased wife? His gaze burned with feverish admiration as he caressed Seraphina’s back. “Now, medicine has allowed her to be reborn, in a different way.” The entire hall erupted in applause. They praised love, they praised technology, they praised a man’s devotion to his deceased wife. No one seemed to think it was utterly horrifying that a madman had flayed his wife and sewn her skin onto his mistress. The hatred churned in my gut. Just then, the host called out my new name. “Next, please welcome the rising entrepreneur, Ms. Blair Thorne, for her address!” It was my turn. I smoothed down my black gown and walked onto the stage. Each step of my heels was precise, firm, like I was treading on my enemies’ hearts. I took the microphone. My voice, hoarse from the fire, carried a strange, piercing quality through the speakers. “Hello everyone, I’m Blair Thorne.” My gaze swept over everyone, locking directly onto Seraphina. She seemed to squirm under my stare. “I’ve just returned to the country. I heard Mr. Sterling had acquired a truly exquisite treasure, and seeing it today, it certainly lives up to its reputation.” I paused, then smiled, changing my tone. “It’s just that I have a peculiar little hobby when it comes to collecting.” “I always believe that an object truly becomes art only when it’s placed in the right setting. If it’s placed in the wrong one…” I paused again, then spoke each word clearly, distinctly: “Then it’s just… trash… draped in human skin.” I watched with satisfaction as Seraphina’s face instantly drained of color. Only then did I turn my attention to Julian Sterling. His composure had shattered, and he was staring at me, utterly transfixed. I offered him a sweet smile. “Mr. Sterling, wouldn’t you agree?” The entire room fell silent. I glided off the stage, stepping over everyone’s stunned expressions. As I passed him, I leaned in, blowing a whisper into his ear, a sound only he could hear. “That gossamer silk is high-end.” “And frankly, not just any cheap imitation deserves to be wrapped in it.” I felt his body stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. With an even softer, more venomous voice, I delivered my blessing. “Julian Sterling, your new collection piece…” “Looks like it’s rotting already.” … The gala, naturally, ended in disarray. I, the madwoman who dared to publicly humiliate Julian Sterling, became the city’s hottest gossip. And Julian? He wasted no time trying to reclaim his dignity.

At my new brand “Phoenix Rising” launch event, he showed up conspicuously with Seraphina. Seraphina wore a backless gown, her “Moonlight Skin” on full display. The entire press corps’ flashbulbs seemed to gravitate towards them. What truly sickened me was the familiar scent clinging to her. ‘Moonlight Whispers’. It had been my proudest creation, a perfume I’d blended exclusively for Julian. Catalyzed by my body temperature, it released a unique, cool yet lingering base note. That scent was Stella Nova and Julian Sterling’s exclusive memory. Now, that memory was being brazenly sprayed by a crude impersonator. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Seraphina held infatuation, but also a fleeting hint of confusion. Because the scent was off. It was missing the most crucial ingredient. My body temperature. My soul. Seraphina, oblivious, clung to Julian’s arm and deliberately walked up to me, showing off. “Ms. Thorne, what a coincidence. Do you also like ‘Moonlight Whispers’?” “Julian says it’s the most beautiful scent he’s ever smelled.” I looked at her face, which was practically screaming provocation, and smiled. “Is that so?” “Yet, I always feel that fakes, no matter how good, never quite make the cut.” Soon, the launch officially began. I stood under the spotlight, holding a bottle of perfume, its dark liquid swirling within. “Thank you all for attending the Phoenix Rising launch event.” “Returning to ashes, then reborn.” My voice, a little raspy from the fire, was exceptionally clear through the microphone. “Today, I’m only introducing one product.” I raised the bottle in my hand and lightly pressed the sprayer into the air. “Its name is ‘Heart Ablaze’.” A strange fragrance instantly permeated the air. It wasn’t any kind of floral or woody scent. The top note was the scorching heat of a raging fire. The middle note was the icy coldness of betrayal piercing through bone. The base note was the scent of dead ashes, after everything had settled. “It was created to commemorate a lost love.” My gaze, dark and lingering, fell on Seraphina. “The top note is love, the middle note is betrayal, and the base note is ashes.” “What’s even more interesting is, it can awaken memories.” “It contains a special catalyst that can resonate in a magical way with certain ‘borrowed elements’.” As soon as the words left my lips, I aimed the perfume sprayer into the air and pressed it again. The fine, misty spray of perfume descended like a gentle rain, settling softly on everyone’s hair and shoulders. But the moment it touched Seraphina, a drastic change occurred! “Ah!” A piercing scream ripped through the venue. Seraphina’s flawless, luminous “Moonlight Skin” erupted in large, visible red rashes. It was as if countless invisible poisoned needles were brutally stabbing her. The imitation perfume on her, catalyzed by ‘Heart Ablaze’, transformed into a nauseating, putrid stench! The beautiful masterpiece, before everyone’s eyes, became a piece of rotting flesh! “It itches! It hurts so bad!” Seraphina shrieked in terror, frantically clawing at her back, instantly leaving streaks of blood. The entire hall erupted in chaos! Reporters’ flashlights flickered madly, capturing the horrifying scene. “Security! A doctor!” Julian Sterling’s face was ashen as he clutched a nearly hysterical Seraphina. Then he lunged onto the stage, grabbing my wrist with a force that threatened to crush my bones. Those eyes, once filled with false affection, now held only bloodshot terror. He stared at me, rigid. “What did you do?!” “Who… who exactly are you?!” Julian Sterling’s voice was tinged with a rare loss of control. I stood in the center of the stage, meeting his furious gaze, but offered no reply. Instead, I slowly, chillingly, offered him a cold, mysterious smile.

I turned and walked off the stage, crisp and decisive. My silence firmly hooked Julian Sterling’s sanity. And the real show had only just begun. After the launch event, I gave him a full three days to spiral. For those three days, the name “Blair Thorne” and her almost insane debut were the talk of the entire city’s elite. And the real lunatic, Julian Sterling, mobilized every connection he had, practically turning the city upside down to find me. But “Blair Thorne” seemed to have sprung from thin air, with no past, no traces. His punches landed in empty space, only fueling his deeper anxiety. Meanwhile, my second grand gift to him was quietly “blooming” in that lavish crystal villa. Seraphina was completely locked away by him. My private investigator told me that the best dermatologists in the city were sent to the villa, one after another, only to leave, one after another, at their wit’s end. The rashes were like a curse rooted in her flesh and blood; they didn’t subside but intensified. The catalyst in ‘Heart Ablaze’ specifically targeted the immune rejection of allogeneic transplanted skin. Medically, it’s called an “Accelerated Chronic Rejection Serum.” My little gift to Seraphina? She’d never get rid of it. Just as Julian Sterling’s patience and sanity were stretched to their limits. On the evening of the fourth day, I sent him a text: “Want answers? Meet me at our old spot.” Our old spot was the ruins of the burnt-down suspended art gallery. Three years ago, our love was buried there. Today, I would bury him there. The ruins were littered with broken steel beams, and the charred walls still bore the marks of the inferno from back then. Julian Sterling’s steps faltered slightly. He stopped about five meters in front of me, scrutinizing me warily. He hoarsely repeated the question from three days ago, but his tone now carried a hint of despair: “Who are you, really? Why are you hurting Seraphina?” I chuckled softly. “Hurting? Mr. Sterling, that’s an interesting way to put it. I merely let her experience firsthand what ‘rejection’ feels like.” “What are you talking about?!” “Don’t you, of all people, understand medicine? Don’t you know what the biggest risk of allogeneic transplantation is?” “It’s rejection, Julian Sterling.” His pupils constricted sharply. “You…” “What, did something click?” I took a step towards him, radiating the chill of hell. “Those things you said to the surgeon on the operating table three years ago, do you remember them?” Julian Sterling’s face completely lost its color. He trembled, taking a step back, as if he’d seen a ghost. “No… impossible, Stella is dead, I saw her with my own eyes…” “You saw her what?” I stood directly in front of him, slowly raising my hand. “Saw her burn to death? Or saw her flayed alive?” I lifted my hand, and my veil slipped. A face emerged, a tapestry of charred and newly formed flesh, crisscrossed with scars, like shattered porcelain forcibly reassembled. Some areas were newly pink, tender flesh, others were permanently carbonized, a disturbing yet shattered beauty. Julian Sterling froze. His eyes were wide, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his lips trembled, but no sound escaped him, as if his soul had been ripped from his body. “Well?” I gently caressed my disfigured cheek, my movements as tender as if I were touching a priceless artifact. “Between that perfect ‘Moonlight Skin’ and my ‘Shattered Porcelain’ reborn from fire, which one do you prefer?” I pointed towards the distant crystal villa, a cruel smile on my face. “One is my unique work of art; the other is a rotting fake.” “Mr. Sterling, the great collector, which do you choose?”

Julian Sterling finally managed to make a sound: “Ste…Stella…” “Wrong name,” I corrected him with a smile. “Now, I’m Blair Thorne. Stella Nova was burned to death by your and Seraphina Hayes’s own hands in that fire three years ago.” He instinctively reached out to me, wanting to touch my face, but his fingertips stopped an inch short in mid-air. Not because of its ugliness. But because that beauty, fractured to its extreme, once again ignited the twisted possessiveness deep within him. His eyes began to gleam, his breathing grew quick and shallow, and that familiar madness reignited in his pupils: “Even… even more perfect…” I watched the familiar, twisted fervor in his eyes and finally couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Julian Sterling, you truly are still that pervert.” “No, *this* is true art!” His voice held a sick fascination. “Stella, look, the marks the flames left on you are more perfect than any sculpture. This beauty, reborn from breakage, is practically God’s masterpiece!” I looked at his gleaming eyes, and a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. He was starting again. Three years ago, he had looked at my skin the same way, with that collector’s appraisal. “Come back to me!” He stretched out his hand, his voice laced with commanding fervor. “I’ll make you a unique collection piece, grander than ever before!” “I’ll build a larger exhibition hall for you!” “Let the whole world come and admire this priceless treasure!” “Enough.” I took a step back, my voice as cold as a blade. Julian Sterling was unmoved; instead, he laughed with even greater abandon. “Are you still angry?” “That’s all in the past.” “Seraphina was just a replacement, a failed imitation.” “You are my true love, my most precious collection.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if being flayed was my honor. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and played an audio recording. Dr. Maxwell Vance’s clear voice echoed from the phone. “Object-induced Art Phobia is a rare psychological condition.” “Patients develop extreme fear of specific art pieces.” “This fear often stems from traumatic memories and can be activated through specific trigger words…” Julian Sterling frowned, scoffing. “Playing mind games.” “You think these psychology tricks can scare me?” I turned off the recording and said softly. “Are you sure?” Then, I spoke the hypnotic command phrase Dr. Maxwell Vance had carefully designed, word for word. “The operating table is on fire.” The effect was instantaneous. Julian Sterling’s body froze. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes wide with terror. “No… impossible…” He began to cough violently, clutching his head with both hands. “Scalpel… fire… fire everywhere…” I watched silently as he fell to his knees. Trembling uncontrollably. This once arrogant collector was now like a startled wild animal. “How do you like it, Mr. Sterling?” “Now do you know what fear feels like?” His eyes were filled with incomprehensible terror. His lips quivered, unable to form a word. I stood up, looking down at him. “This is just an appetizer.” “Every day from now on, you’ll live in this fear.” “The moment you see a scalpel, the moment you smell disinfectant.” “Even just hearing the word ‘surgery’.” “You’ll remember that fire.” “What… what did you do to me?” Julian Sterling barely managed to squeeze out the words, his voice utterly hoarse. “You tell me?”

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I’m a top-tier litigator, or at least I was. When I handed in my resignation, everyone cheered. My resignation was approved faster than a speeding bullet. Only Chloe Sterling, an intern from my fiancé’s law firm, was visibly distressed. Ignoring everyone’s protests, she insisted on kneeling before me, begging me to stay. “Ms. Hayes,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “even if the evidence you gathered proved useless, the legal world still needs someone with your dedication!” I scoffed, a bitter taste in my mouth, and turned my back on her. In my past life, I poured my heart and soul into defending the innocent, going to extreme lengths, risking everything to collect even the most minuscule pieces of evidence. Yet, every time I stepped into court, Chloe would stand on the opposing side, systematically dismantling my arguments, securing victories for the wicked. Powerful tycoons hailed her as a legal prodigy, while cruelly branding me a self-righteous clown for fighting for the poor. After a string of crushing defeats, the victims’ families, convinced I was deliberately sabotaging cases, kidnapped me and drowned me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe first sought my advice, right before our first trial.

“Stella, this case isn’t tough. I’m confident you’ll secure our eleventh consecutive win for the firm!” I snapped back to reality, seeing my boss, Mr. Harrison, beaming at me, and the familiar comfort of my office. “Don’t be so sure,” Ashley, a colleague who’d always disliked me, piped up, seizing the opportunity to mock me. “I heard the firm next door has a legal genius intern. She won countless awards in college. This time, she’s up against our chief litigator, Stella. Are you nervous?” I swayed as I stood, staring in disbelief at the scene before me. I was actually back on the day of my first clash with Chloe—the very day her legend as a legal prodigy began! Frantically, I shuffled through the evidence on my desk. It was meticulously organized, every photo accounted for. Just like in my previous life, Chloe walked into my office, a Boba tea in her hand. “Stella, this is an extra one my mentor, Leo, got when he bought his. I brought it for you! It’s my first time in court, so please, go easy on me.” In my past life, I’d drunk that tea and found myself rushing to the restroom multiple times. Had Chloe used that opportunity to peek at my case files? This time, I merely took the cup, my voice flat. “The law is merciless!” Without giving her a chance to respond, I clutched my evidence and drove straight to the courthouse. Half an hour later, Chloe and I stood on opposite sides of the courtroom. “When the victim died, the defendant claimed to be at The Nightfall Club, with a witness to corroborate his alibi. However, my investigation of the Maple Street surveillance footage yesterday shows the defendant’s car leaving the scene three minutes after the victim’s death. Defense counsel, please respond.” I presented the photos and evidence. But when I looked at Chloe, she didn’t flinch. “Your Honor, I also have the Maple Street surveillance footage here. However, the license plate on the vehicle is not that of my client. Is it possible that the plaintiff’s attorney has tampered with the surveillance evidence?” A collective gasp swept through the audience, and whispers erupted as people pointed fingers at me. Ashley shot me a middle finger. Over the next few minutes, I continued to present evidence, but Chloe countered each piece instantly, catching me completely off guard. I felt myself swaying, the room spinning. This was exactly how it had happened in my past life. It was this very lawsuit that marked the beginning of Chloe’s widespread fame as a legal prodigy. She was hailed as the goddess of justice, a true savior of the legal world. Her evidence was always impeccable, and her efficiency unmatched. What took me half a month to investigate and organize, she completed in three days, drastically cutting down client fees. “That chief litigator is a fraud! She claims to help the poor, but she’s just taking money from both sides—she can’t even win a case!” “She’s an animal, fabricating evidence and framing people! Doesn’t she fear the victims rising from their graves to drag her to hell?!” To prove my innocence, I worked tirelessly, day and night, risking life and limb to uncover the truth and evidence. But every time I entered the courtroom, Chloe either produced the evidence before me or proved that mine was fabricated. The victims’ families, believing I had taken money from the killers to intentionally frame the innocent with false evidence, banded together, kidnapped me, and drowned me in the sea. My parents, desperate to find a lawyer for my case, found all doors closed. Even my fiancé, Leo, cut ties with me. Chloe appeared in court on my behalf, telling everyone that she had found evidence proving I had committed suicide out of shame. My parents didn’t believe it. They vowed to sue Chloe and see her punished, but then they were brutally murdered by the victims’ families. Now, reborn, I would make sure Chloe exposed herself and was utterly disgraced!

“Did you hear? She’s just an intern? And she so easily beat Stella Hayes, the chief litigator!” “It’s not over yet, is it? Let’s see if Stella has any more evidence.” The discussions in the gallery grew louder, everyone eager for the outcome of the lawsuit. My face was pale as I waited for the judge’s final verdict. When the word “lose” reached my ears, a murmur of shock and suspicion rippled through the audience. Mr. Harrison walked down from the bench, a look of disappointment on his face, patting my shoulder encouragingly. “Maybe you’ve been working too hard lately. Take a couple of days off!” “How could the chief litigator lose to an intern? Were all her previous wins just flukes?” Listening to the audience’s speculation, I tried to calm myself. Since I’d been given a second chance at life, I would proceed cautiously, step by step, to find a flaw in her methods. Chloe couldn’t possibly have beaten me through legitimate means. How else could her evidence align perfectly with mine? I suspected Leo, my fiancé, might have looked at my evidence at home for the sake of his law firm. After two days of rest, Mr. Harrison assigned me another case. This time, I dared not go home. I always avoided Leo’s return times, and I locked all my evidence in a safe. Even when going out to investigate, I was extremely cautious, never driving myself. Ashley mocked me, calling me crazy and paranoid, saying I never went home. But I felt foolproof. This time, no one knew my whereabouts, and no one could access my evidence. I simply refused to believe that Chloe could use my own evidence against me this time. Full of confidence, I stepped into the courtroom again. I meticulously laid out my evidence, connecting all the clues and motives, leading to the undeniable conclusion that the defendant was the murderer. But Chloe remained perfectly calm. I started to feel uneasy. Could she… When I finished, she again presented evidence, completely demolishing mine. Ultimately, I lost again. Thunderous applause erupted from the gallery, crushing me, leaving me breathless. After court, she walked toward me, a smile playing on her lips. “Stella, I guess I win again!” This time, I had been incredibly careful, even avoiding going home, so the problem wasn’t with Leo. I calmly reconsidered. Perhaps, since the cases were similar and Leo and I were classmates and partners, our thoughts might align. So, he might have guided Chloe on where to find case breakthroughs. The moment I took on a new case, I immediately asked for the name of the opposing counsel. As long as it wasn’t Chloe Sterling, my evidence would be impeccable. So, I boldly resumed my investigation, from surveillance footage of every street the victim walked down, to questioning people at every mall they passed through. I desperately collected every usable clue and piece of evidence, ensuring nothing was overlooked. Ashley sneered, “Didn’t you refuse to go home last time, afraid someone would steal your evidence? Why are you throwing caution to the wind now?” I ignored her, focusing solely on organizing my evidence into a cohesive chain. This time, I was certain I would win this case! I found out that Chloe didn’t know I had taken on this case, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But just as I presented half of my evidence in court, the opposing lawyer began to crumble under my relentless assault. After a one-hour recess, the defense attorney was replaced by Chloe. The result, as you can imagine, was the same: my evidence was once again completely overturned by Chloe. I sank back into my seat at the defense table, disbelief washing over me, as I met the disappointed gazes of the victims’ families. How could Chloe have done it so perfectly when she clearly hadn’t had time to investigate? Chloe, meanwhile, accepted the defendant’s praises with a radiant smile, showing no signs of anything amiss. I was beyond thinking. The public’s curses made me feel like life wasn’t worth living. Leo, seeing my disheveled state, frowned in displeasure. “Stella, is it so hard to admit you’re not as good? Who are you putting on this act for?” I had so much to say, but no words came out. Chloe linked her arm through his. “Don’t be so hard on Stella, Leo. I’ve seen how hard she works. She’s just not as naturally gifted!” She turned to him, her voice sweet. “You promised to take me out to celebrate if I won this case! Stella, want to join us?” Leo glanced at me dismissively, his tone commanding. “You should go home and rest for a few days. You’ve been obsessing lately! Maybe you should just focus on planning our wedding and starting a family. If you don’t have Chloe’s talent, don’t force it!” I couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of Mr. Harrison or my colleagues. An inexplicable dread filled me when I thought of Chloe’s abilities. But I couldn’t find a single flaw in her methods. I had tried almost every possible way. How was Chloe doing it? 4. From that day on, the firm gradually stopped assigning me cases. Everyone started treating me like I was invisible. Even Mr. Harrison began secretly contacting Chloe, trying to lure her to our firm. My private office was emptied out, too, supposedly to make room for someone more capable. My life became a torrent of mockery and curses. Chloe visited me once during this period. She leaned in close, her eyes brimming with disdain. “Aren’t you feeling helpless? Without a clue?” She whispered, “Stella, you just can’t compare to me! Your reputation, even your fiancé—I’m taking it all!” Chloe’s fame spread back to our alma mater. The prestigious alumni spotlight, which had once belonged to me, now featured Chloe’s name. And the invitation I’d received last month to speak at the school’s sharing session was rescinded; they informed me of a last-minute change. In an instant, Chloe was basking in glory, while I felt like I was sinking into quicksand. Just then, someone came knocking, specifically asking for me to be their defense attorney. “Ms. Hayes, I know you can help me. I don’t have much money, but for my mother’s case, I only trust you!” I recognized the girl, Maya Rodriguez. It was a sexual assault case where I had helped send her stepfather to prison, finally freeing her and her mother. Ashley rolled her eyes from the side. “She’s notorious now, no one dares to represent her. Little girl, anyone else here would be better than her. At least we wouldn’t lose to a fresh graduate! And we certainly wouldn’t lose three cases in a row!” But Maya said with unwavering conviction, “My mind is made up. I believe in Ms. Hayes!” Mr. Harrison called me into his office, giving me a stern talking-to. “Stella, this is your last chance to turn things around. You know once your reputation is ruined, no one will hire you for cases. Our firm doesn’t keep dead weight.” His words were ruthless, and they placed an immense pressure on me. I swore to him that if I lost this case, I would change professions! I worked day and night, even infiltrating the private club where Maya’s mother worked. After being plied with over a dozen drinks, I finally got some crucial information out of a big shot. The perpetrator, it turned out, was a wealthy heir. I gritted my teeth. No one is above the law. If I had enough evidence, I could definitely send him to prison. On the day of the trial, countless media cameras focused on me. “Chief Litigator’s career in a do-or-die battle. Will she make a comeback?” Seeing Maya’s tear-filled eyes in the gallery, my resolve hardened. I had never been defeated before. Armed with my evidence, I was unstoppable in court. Just when I thought victory was finally within my grasp, Chloe rushed into the opposing counsel’s seat. My breath hitched. A terrible premonition flooded my mind. Chloe and I were locked in a stalemate. I gripped the solid proof in my hand that would nail the wealthy heir as the culprit. But Chloe merely offered a faint smile. “This last piece of evidence in your hand… it must be the footprints in the private club’s restroom, right?” Her smile widened, laced with a predatory edge. “Too bad. My client has a high-low gait; his right foot doesn’t fully touch the ground. So, those footprints on the floor aren’t his.” My head exploded. Even before I presented it, she knew exactly what evidence I held. After the judge announced the verdict, I looked into the gallery, but Maya was gone. My skin crawled, my heart pounding uncontrollably.

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To buy Brendan a hearing aid, I worked three jobs a day. When my step-brother, Julian, found out, his eyes darkened, sharp and intense. “You’re working yourself to death for some guy. Are you planning on moving in with him?” I sneered, “None of your business.” Later, I overheard Brendan talking to his roommate. “Just pretending to be deaf to mess with that idiot. His measly cash? Who even cares about that, seriously, haha.” “He’s pretty, I’ll give him that. But I’m not into guys.” The guys burst into laughter. Someone asked him, “What if Alex finds out?” Brendan casually drawled, “He won’t. Even if he does, I’ll just sweet-talk him.” “My ear went deaf saving him, you know. All I have to do is say a few nice words, and he’ll melt.” Turns out, I was the only fool all along. I wanted to leave, but my step-brother grabbed my neck, pulling me close for a harsh kiss. My voice trembled as I challenged him, “…What do you mean by that?” His voice was low and rough. “I mean, I want to *take* you.”

Standing outside Brendan’s dorm, I felt a heavy silence. I raised my hand to knock, then lowered it again. The voices from inside continued. “Just pretending to be deaf to mess with that idiot, that’s all.” “And liking guys? Not really my thing.” The guys suddenly laughed. After a moment. Someone asked him, “What if Alex finds out?” Brendan lit a cigarette, his voice casual. “He won’t. Even if he does, I’ll just sweet-talk him a bit.” “My ear went deaf saving him, you know. All I have to do is say a few nice words, and he’ll melt.” Brendan’s ear was accidentally damaged while saving me, which is why I felt guilty and wanted to make it up to him. So, I picked up several part-time jobs, working nonstop to earn money. I lost over ten pounds in a month, all just to save up for his hearing aid. I never thought I was the only fool. Now, I’d finally saved up enough cash. Brendan’s hearing loss was faked. His poverty was faked too. He played me like a fiddle. “Brendan, if you don’t like guys, why did you even get with him? This kid, he looks a bit girly-looking, but he is pretty. Still, thinking he’s a guy just makes me… totally turned off.” “Is being gay really that fun?” Brendan chuckled from inside. “It’s great! Don’t you think Alex is overly obedient?” His roommates roared with laughter. “Isn’t that because you’re such a good trainer, Brendan? I heard you asked Alex to move in with you last week, and he refused, right?” Last week, Brendan suddenly suggested we move in together, but I said no. Brendan was really upset. I had to sweet-talk him for three days before he finally bothered to talk to me again. At the mention of it, Brendan bit on his cigarette, mumbling a reply. “Yeah.” “He said he doesn’t want to live together right now.”

Someone teased. “Brendan, you’re thinking about it all wrong. Those people play all sorts of games. Alex is probably just playing hard to get. Ask him a few more times, and he’ll definitely agree.” I scoffed. Like hell I would. I kicked the door open. Silence instantly fell inside. Brendan still had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and he froze when he saw me. The guy who’d just been talking about me was the first to react. Grinning, he said, “Alex, here to see Brendan again? You two are so close.” Brendan finally came to his senses. He put out his cigarette and asked me softly, “Why are you suddenly here?” I flung the wad of cash right into his face. I raised my hand and smacked him hard across the face. Brendan was stunned. His two roommates were frozen too. They hadn’t expected me to hit him. “Alex, what the hell is wrong with you?!” The guy closest to Brendan swore at me. I ignored him. I just stared at Brendan. I might look thin, but I’m still a guy. Brendan stumbled back a couple of steps from my blow. He covered his face, looking at me in disbelief. I gave a light, bitter laugh. “Brendan, you must have worked really hard pretending to be deaf and playing with a fool like me.” “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” Brendan’s face was pale as he tried to explain, but he couldn’t find the words. Looking at the money scattered on the floor. I said, “Consider this money compensation for you. After all, it must be hard liking men when you don’t.” “You must have been truly wronged.” 2. Brendan thought he could sweet-talk me like always. He didn’t expect me to block him on every single platform. He got angry too. He didn’t send me any more messages. In the past, whenever Brendan and I had a fight, I was always the one who gave in first. This time, Brendan also expected me to back down and smooth things over. Then we’d be back to normal. But he was wrong. My heart was really hardened. I wasn’t going to go back and coax him. A week passed. Brendan couldn’t take it anymore. He came to my dorm to find me. But my roommates told him I’d already moved out. Brendan froze. I wasn’t looking for him, but he blocked my path himself. The cafeteria was crowded. Brendan stood in front of me. “Move.” I said coldly. Brendan pursed his lips and looked at me for a long moment, then finally stepped aside. I found a table and sat down. I’d barely had two bites when Brendan sat across from me. “Alex, I was wrong to lie to you, but I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?” Brendan was used to being the spoiled rich kid I always pampered. He thought sending a couple of apology messages was enough to show sincerity. I lifted my eyes, sneering. “Brendan, do you still think we’re just having an argument?” Brendan flinched. He thought I was just angry he lied, so I was upset. But that sweet-talking me would fix it. He thought I was easy to appease because I used to feel guilty about him; I felt for him. So no matter how angry I got, I’d just swallow it. And tell him: “Don’t make me mad again next time.” Under Brendan’s gaze, I said slowly, word by word: “We’re over, you asshole.”

Brendan and I were middle school classmates. I never expected to meet him again in college. And in the same major, too. When he saw me in class, Brendan actually rubbed his eyes several times. As if he couldn’t believe I was there. In middle school, I was pushed aside because I was too pretty, too delicate-looking. So I didn’t talk much. Simply put, I was extremely introverted. Someone even called me an autistic orphan once. After the high school entrance exam, I moved. I went to another city for school. Brendan approached me like he’d found a kindred spirit, striking up a conversation. When he talked about middle school, he always looked embarrassed. “Alex, I was really ignorant back then. I’m sorry!” I didn’t know what Brendan was apologizing for. After all, Brendan hadn’t cursed at me like the others back then. Once we got to know each other, Brendan often came to my dorm. That day, my other roommates were all out, so I just decided to watch a gay movie. I didn’t know when Brendan arrived. When our eyes met, he looked really awkward. He stammered out, “You like guys?” Afraid he’d been too blunt. He quickly changed his wording, “I mean, not many people watch these kinds of movies…” I admitted it openly. “Yeah, I like guys.” “Oh.” Brendan didn’t say anything else. He just accidentally bumped into the door as he left.

Brendan avoided me for a month. Then he awkwardly sought me out to talk. “It’s really nothing to like guys, it’s all the same.” That was the first thing Brendan said in our chat. He thought he was comforting me. But what’s wrong with me liking guys? I don’t owe anyone anything. Even now, I don’t owe anyone anything. This meal was clearly not going to be enjoyed. When I left, Brendan kept following me. We reached the campus gate. Brendan strode forward and asked, “Why did you suddenly move out?” From that angle, I could see a small scar on Brendan’s right ear. That was before Brendan and I were together. I’d had a small conflict with someone else. They were pissed off, so they ambushed me on my way back for revenge. When Brendan arrived, I was being held down and beaten. He fought those guys like a maniac. But he was just one person. Outnumbered, Brendan got pretty beat up. When his right ear was hit, it immediately started bleeding. Those guys panicked when they saw Brendan fall. They just wanted to teach me a small lesson, not kill anyone. They ran off. Back then, Brendan went deaf. Completely unable to hear. Seeing Brendan’s questioning look, I took a step back, putting distance between us. “It’s none of your business.”

When I got home, someone was sitting in the living room. My… step-brother. Julian hadn’t even had time to change out of his work clothes; it was clear he’d rushed straight from the office. I frowned slightly. “What are you doing here?” Julian’s calm eyes met mine, completely unruffled. He placed the book he’d been casually flipping through back in its spot. He looked me up and down. “You’ve lost weight.” Julian didn’t seem to pay attention to my question. I put down my backpack. Julian handed me a glass of water. I took it and drank it all. Only then did Julian say, “Came to see you.” I lowered my gaze, sitting on the sofa. “There’s nothing to see.” The room fell silent. The tiny old house occasionally filled with the chirping of small insects. It was a bit grating. Julian looked completely out of place here. “I bought you an apartment near your university. Move in this weekend.” I just noticed the keys on the table. After staring at them for a while, I slowly looked away. “No, thanks. I’m fine living here.” “Move in.” Julian said, leaving no room for argument. I looked up, staring at Julian. Word by word, I said, “I told you, I don’t want to move there.”

“Why?” I didn’t want to owe his family anything. And I didn’t want to spend Julian’s money. I didn’t want to owe their family *anything*. And I definitely didn’t want to hear outsiders say things like, “My mom brought that dead weight kid with her when she remarried, he’s just going to fight for the inheritance.” That’s why I earned all my tuition and living expenses myself. Any money they gave me, I returned it without touching it. My throat worked, but before I could figure out what to say. I heard Julian’s voice, overly calm, ring out. “Is it because of that guy? Working three jobs a day for him, and now living off-campus, are you planning to move in with him?” Julian stared intently at me. No matter how lightly he spoke. I still caught a hint of something unusual in his tone. I looked away. Avoiding his gaze. “…None of your business.” My relationship with Julian wasn’t exactly good. But it wasn’t bad enough for us to be at each other’s throats. Just average. Julian didn’t say anything else. Soon, my brows furrowed again. “How do you know all this about me? Are you spying on me?!” Julian smirked, his eyes calm. “Do I need to spy?” Right. A piece of baggage like me, everything I do gets spread around the fastest. Especially going to a part-time job. Upper-crust society, always a damn nuisance. Since Julian knew, I didn’t care anymore. “Are you afraid I’ll embarrass your family?” I didn’t mean to say that, but I couldn’t help it. When Julian left, he didn’t take the apartment keys from the table. I looked at them for a moment. In the end, I tossed them into a drawer.

After breaking up with Brendan, I naturally didn’t have to work so many part-time jobs. I had a lot more free time. Brendan came looking for me repeatedly. It was useless. I didn’t want to deal with him at all. He stuck to me like a clingy leech. “…Alex, why are you avoiding me?” Brendan blocked my path, a stubborn look on his face. “That day, I said the wrong thing… I’m sorry, but you should give me a chance to explain.” Oh. Even his apologies were high and mighty, the spoiled rich kid. Damn it. Why didn’t I realize Brendan was such an asshole before? Or does breaking up just make it clear that an asshole is an even bigger asshole? I stared at him. I couldn’t help but scoff. “Brendan, humans get a chance to explain. Dogs don’t.” Brendan gritted his teeth: “Alex, that’s not fair…” I looked coldly at Brendan. “What’s fair? You say it’s not fair because I won’t give you a chance to explain? Brendan, do you really think you’re some main character?” “When you saw me working part-time for your ear, putting up with all those creepy customers touching me, just to get you a hearing aid, did you feel a huge sense of accomplishment?” “Did you think I suffered so much for you, was so good to you, that I was head over heels in love with you, huh?” “Did talking about playing me behind my back satisfy your vanity?” “Brendan, you’re a real asshole.” With every word I spoke, Brendan’s face grew paler. After a long moment, Brendan squeezed out a single sentence through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry.” What good is ‘sorry’? I scoffed coldly. A car parked on the street honked twice. I instinctively looked over. I saw Julian’s icy face. Julian got out of the car and walked straight towards me. My heart skipped a beat. No way? Did he come specifically to catch me? “Alex.” Julian stopped beside me. “Why did it take so long today?” Brendan’s gaze had been scrutinizing Julian. I glanced at Brendan. And just went along with Julian’s words. “Class ran a bit late.” Julian hummed, his gaze falling on Brendan, and asked me: “And this is…” Brendan seemed to snap out of it. Before I could speak, he cut Julian off. “I’m Brendan, his boyfriend!”

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Before my brother Adam died, he entrusted me with the child he and his same-sex partner had adopted. He begged me to raise Liam until he turned eighteen. I hated my brother, and naturally, I hated Liam too. So, even though we lived under the same roof, I never gave Liam a moment of peace. The day he turned twenty, I couldn’t wait to sever all ties with him. Later, Liam brought down my company, forcing me to grovel before him. As he pinned me to the bed, he said, “Uncle Julian, do you know? I truly loathe you.” I looked at his desperate, distorted face and suddenly smiled. “What do you hate me for?” He froze, and a single tear fell onto my face. “You just hate me for not loving you enough.” The hospital call came, and I sat at my desk, burning through three cigarettes. My assistant, Brendan, carefully asked, “Mr. Blackwood, are you going to visit?” “No. I don’t have a brother.” He acknowledged it and left. I stared silently out the window until the last ray of sunset vanished from my sight. Eventually, I got up, grabbed my car keys, and headed out. Adam Blackwood was in the best private hospital, his room overflowing with every imaginable luxury. But the lonely figure lying in the bed was so frail that no amount of wealth could conceal his solitude. He wore an oxygen mask, fogged with the white mist of his agitated breaths. He looked at me with effort, “Jules, you came.” The small boy sitting beside him, nervously fidgeting with his hands, secretly glanced at me, then quickly looked down again. “Don’t call me that.” The name Jules belonged to the gentle, steady brother I once had. It didn’t belong to Adam Blackwood anymore. I pulled up a chair and sat down. “Didn’t you claim to be madly in love back then? You broke from the family for him, drove Mom and Dad to their graves. How is it you’re the only one lying here now?” I scoffed, but seeing the sorrow in his eyes, I found no satisfaction. “I was a fool back then. Now, I guess this is my karma.” He coughed weakly. “Jules, I don’t have many days left. When I die, I’ll apologize to Mom and Dad. But Liam is innocent. Once I’m gone, he’ll have no one. Consider this my last request, please, raise him for me.” “My inheritance, I’ve divided it into two parts. One for you, and the other, you’ll give to him when he turns twenty.” He paused, taking a shallow breath. “If possible, I’d like to be buried in the Rose Garden. I’ve already bought a plot there. Would you be willing to oversee my funeral?” He rambled on about his final wishes. I stared at him, suddenly feeling a desolate emptiness inside. Liam looked up at him, his grape-like eyes brimming with tears, but he held them back. The atmosphere was too heavy, suffocating me. I stood up, ready to leave. He called out more urgently, and with his agitation, the heart monitor began to spike wildly. Liam immediately reached out and clutched my hand. It was the first time I’d heard the kid speak. His voice was tearful, a pitiful plea, “Uncle, please don’t go yet. Will you listen to Dad finish what he has to say?” I paused, took a deep breath, and said nothing. Adam’s voice was faint and strained. “Jules, your brother begs you.” I closed my eyes, fighting back the sting in my nose. “From the day Mom and Dad died, I stopped having a brother.”

I’m not someone who cries easily. Yet, leaving the hospital, I ran a hand over my face, finding it cold and damp. In my early childhood, I thought fate had been incredibly kind to me. I had a wealthy family, loving and harmonious parents, and a mature, steady older brother who adored me. Adam was eleven years my senior. From the moment I was born, I grew up cradled in the arms of my brother, Mom, and Dad. Then, when I was old enough to understand, everything plummeted. Adam brought his partner home. My dad had a heart condition, and the moment Adam knelt, insisting on marrying his partner, Dad suffered an attack. He didn’t make it. Why Adam didn’t turn back, perhaps it was because he truly loved the other man too much, or maybe just because he could no longer face Mom and me. In any case, those years, laughter vanished from our home, and no one mentioned Adam again. Mom and Dad had known each other since youth, loving each other for decades, raising two children. After Dad died, her life, too, began to drain away uncontrollably, like a flower that could no longer draw nourishment. I cried and begged, but ultimately watched helplessly as Mom also left me. I resented Adam, but now, seeing the cold snowflakes outside the hospital, my mind unexpectedly conjured up a childhood memory: him holding me, pinching my tear-reddened cheeks, smiling as he soothed me. It dawned on me, belatedly, that I hated him, but he was also all I had left. After his passing, there would be no one else in the world connected to me by blood. I was finally going to become an orphan, in the truest sense of the word. Just like that kid he adopted.

I still attended his funeral. The faces at the funeral were mostly unfamiliar to me. Only Liam – I remembered that porcelain-doll face very clearly, and I loathed it. I recalled the year Adam adopted Liam; he’d called me. His tone on the phone was a little cautious. “Jules, I’ve adopted a child. He’s very sweet. Would you like to meet him?” “From now on, he’s your little nephew.” “Mom really likes kids, could I…?” My voice was unusually sharp. “No! Don’t even think about it!” “You adopt a kid now, you’re all happy and perfect, and you want to bring him back to disgust us?! Take that little bastard of yours and get as far away as possible!” He was silent for a long time, then his voice trembling, he said, “I’m sorry, Jules.” That was the first time I knew of Liam’s existence, but in my mind, he was never a concrete person. He was more like a symbol, a symbol to disgust me. A symbol that shattered my family while granting the culprit a happy one. I watched him from afar. He wore a black suit, pinned with a white boutonnière. He bowed in return to every mourner. His face was expressionless, but I could see the red, swollen circles on his thin eyelids from crying. That small figure stood before the altar, radiating an indescribable loneliness. I stood far away for a long time, until the condolences ended. Everyone dispersed, but he remained standing there, lost. As if he didn’t know where his future lay, with no one left to guide him. I walked up to him and simply said two words, “Let’s go.” He looked up at me, two streams of large tears falling from his eyes, but fearing he would annoy me, he quickly used his sleeve to wipe them away. He trailed behind me obediently. He kept a distance, not too far that he’d be left behind, not too close that he’d be unwelcome. His legs, tired from standing all day, felt a bit numb. As he walked, he misstepped and fell hard. I stopped, turning back to look at him. His hands were scraped raw from bracing himself on the ground, and his knees had a slight injury. But he quickly scrambled back up, staggering, and gave me an awkward, placating smile. He softly called out, “Uncle Julian.” I had never acknowledged him as my nephew, but watching him carefully rub the dirt from his pants, it was the first time I didn’t refute that title.

I took him home. My work was demanding. After Mom and Dad passed, all the family and company matters fell onto my shoulders. My only responsibility was to keep him alive. Most of the time, I didn’t see him much. One time, I came home and happened to find him eating. Seeing me enter, the person sitting at the dining table immediately put down his forks, stood up awkwardly, and greeted me, “Uncle Julian.” Mr. Jenkins, the butler, helped me change my shoes. I raised my eyelids to look at him, my gaze distant. I saw the expression on his young face shift slightly. Then he lowered his head and called out again, “Mr. Blackwood.” I’d never lived under someone else’s roof, but I vaguely understood that feeling. So, I understood all of Liam’s caution, his anxiety, his wariness. I ignored him and went straight upstairs. Mr. Jenkins followed me, casually asking, “Would you like to eat?” Liam was still standing by the table. I cast a downward glance at his figure. “No, I’m not eating. It kills my appetite.” His body stiffened. From this angle, I couldn’t see the humiliated look on his face. It wasn’t until I returned to my room that Mr. Jenkins spoke, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Young Master, I know you resent the late Master Adam, but that child…” I changed my clothes and tossed them into his hands. He’d worked for my family for over thirty years, longer than I’d been in the Blackwood household. I considered him half a senior. Hearing him speak, I didn’t get angry; I just smiled and retorted, “Mr. Jenkins thinks he’s very innocent and pitiful?” Mr. Jenkins sighed. “But I don’t see it that way.” Actually, I was lying. How could I not know Liam was innocent? He was merely a child discarded at an orphanage at birth, then coincidentally adopted by Adam. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But when I saw his face, I couldn’t control my resentment and fury. I knew my selfishness and arrogance, but toward Liam, I wouldn’t soften.

Mr. Jenkins and the housekeepers all found Liam to be very well-behaved. He was quiet every day; apart from eating and greeting the household staff, he would obediently stay in his room and study. I became his emergency contact. His teacher called me once. Her tone on the phone was cheerful. “Liam took first place in the competition! There’s an awards ceremony on Monday, please be sure to attend.” She was quite certain I would go; after all, any parent would be proud to hear their child achieved such results. No one around me ever mentioned Liam’s name. So, the hand I was using to sign documents paused for a moment before I realized. “Oh, no, I won’t.” Then, ignoring her surprised reaction on the other end, I hung up directly. The second time she called, I assumed it was another awards ceremony. So, I let it ring. After the phone persistently rang three times, I finally frowned and answered. “Don’t call me about his affairs anymore.” The teacher paused, then said, “Liam got into a fight with a classmate at school. He’s a bit injured. Could you please come to the school?” Her tone had lost the politeness of the first call. I frowned and hung up, kneading my temples in annoyance. Brendan came in with documents. “Mr. Blackwood, everyone’s here, waiting for you in the conference room.” I thought for a moment, then stood up. “Cancel it. I have something to take care of.” Liam, with his quiet demeanor, the kind of kid who would just wipe away tears with his head down even if you slapped him, actually got into a fight. When I arrived at the school, several people were already standing in the office. The other kid had bruises on his face and was being comforted by his mom, who was bending over, asking if he was okay. The other kid’s dad, full of bluster, declared, “It’s definitely not my kid’s fault! He has to pay for damages and apologize to my son today!” The teacher tried to mediate, saying, “We’re not sure about the cause yet. Let’s wait for his guardian to arrive before discussing compensation.” The other kid’s parents looked at Liam, their tone unfriendly. “Where’s your guardian?! Why aren’t they here yet?” Liam stood in the corner, amidst the crowd of protected and doted-on classmates, like a forgotten speck of dust. Through the crack in the door, I saw his figure and suddenly felt how quickly a half-grown kid matures. He seemed to have grown a lot, though I hadn’t noticed. “He won’t come,” I heard Liam’s voice, very calm, utterly devoid of emotion. He showed neither the usual subservience he displayed in front of me nor a hint of vitality. He simply stated the fact, objectively: the fact that he was unvalued, unloved. The other dad’s voice grew louder: “Is that how you act as a parent? Your kid hit my son, and this isn’t over until it’s cleared up!” “Don’t stand there being shameless! You think hitting my son without paying or apologizing will just blow over?!” The teacher tried to mediate: “Please calm down, sir. I’ve already called. Let’s just wait.” He puffed, glaring at Liam, who simply stood there, his hand unconsciously tugging at the side of his pants. “How much longer do we have to wait?!” The teacher also looked troubled, as she’d called me before, and I’d directly said I wouldn’t come. This time, she wasn’t sure if I would show up, only saying, “I’m not sure. His guardian has never shown up when notified to come to school before.” The other kid’s dad scoffed. “No wonder. No one to teach him manners, that’s what happens.” I finally couldn’t listen anymore. Frowning, I pushed the door open. The other kid’s parents immediately looked over. Their eyes assessed my height – a head taller than him – and my broader build, then landed on my suit and wristwatch. Their bluster noticeably deflated. Liam looked at me, his eyes brightening, a little shocked, but he quickly lowered his head and respectfully called out, “Uncle Julian.” I walked in and saw that Liam’s face was also bruised and discolored. Even worse than the other kid’s. I frowned, a surge of inexplicable anger flaring within me. Beat up and still treated like dirt? How pathetic. I scoffed, stepping in front of him, ignoring the complex look in Liam’s eyes. “It’s just compensation, right?” “How much?” The other parents didn’t expect me to cut straight to the point. They exchanged a look, unsure what figure to name. “Is ten thousand enough?” “Well, this…” Seeing their hesitation, I pressed, “Not enough, huh? How about a hundred thousand?” I’d been in too many negotiations. From their micro-expressions alone, I could tell they were quite surprised and satisfied. I curved my lips, took out a check, and smoothly wrote down a string of numbers. As I wrote, I tilted my head and said to Liam, “It’s just a hundred thousand. Is that worth being lectured like a nobody?” “Hit them if you want. I can afford to pay any amount.” I capped the pen and handed the check to them. I knew I had a naturally intimidating presence, and after years in business, I had developed a predatory ruthlessness. When I stared directly at people, their reactions were always similar to this couple’s: fear, unease, they didn’t even reach out for the check in my hand. I smiled. “Go on, take it. There’ll be more later. Make sure your kid takes care of himself. It won’t do to be so fragile.” I saw a bead of cold sweat trickle down the other dad’s temple. The teacher also hadn’t anticipated such a turn of events. “Please calm down, sir. We’re here to solve a problem.” “Yes, children fight, so conflicts must be resolved, right? Who are you threatening?” The child’s mother shielded her son behind her. Liam looked at my face, lips pressed together, saying nothing, his beautiful eyes sparkling. “Ah, so you want to resolve the conflict? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “My kid was also badly beaten. You two kept demanding apologies and money from us. I thought it was all my kid’s fault.” Hearing that term, Liam’s brow twitched, and he looked at me, but said nothing. To be honest, I didn’t want to call him that, and I never truly considered him “my kid.” But some things just came out naturally in that context. More than disliking Liam, I disliked being humiliated. In human relationships, if you retreat an inch, they’ll advance a foot. But if you’re aggressive and refuse to concede, they’ll become well-behaved and honest. Neither of them would reveal the true reason for the fight, and since both had similar injuries, it ended in a muddled, hasty conclusion. Coming out of the office, I strode ahead, with Liam trailing behind me obediently. After walking in silence for a while, he finally called out to me. “Uncle Julian.” I turned slightly to look at him, at his somewhat naive expression. It seemed that today, I had truly become his guardian, a reliance willing to shelter and stand up for him. He pursed his lips and softly said, “He told me to copy off his test.” “I refused, and he called me a fatherless and motherless bastard.” “So we fought.” He was so young, so tender. Perhaps he himself hadn’t even realized that the vulnerable plea for comfort in his eyes had already saturated the surrounding air. I walked over and, for the first time, gently touched his head, a soothing, gentle gesture. His eyes widened. His amber pupils revealed clear dependence. “Are you very wronged?” He paused, then nodded almost imperceptibly. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. As his expression grew confused, I said to him, “But what he said, what was wrong with it?” “You are a fatherless, motherless, unloved bastard, aren’t you?” I watched, wide-eyed, as his body stiffened, as if pricked by a vicious needle. A mist gathered in his eyes. It had been years since I’d seen him cry. That evening, years ago, when I took him from the funeral home, felt like a lifetime ago. I reveled in my cruel revenge, yet a tiny voice within me issued a faint protest. I withdrew my hand, standing before him with my hands in my pockets. On that beautiful, nascently handsome face, tears streamed down, flowing endlessly towards his neck. Something shattered completely at that moment, something that could never be pieced back together. His voice, trembling, weeping, filled with uncontrollable brokenness. “Can you please, not do this to me?” I stared at him, the curve of my lips slowly flattening. A thought flashed through my mind: Liam, how pitiful.

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I spent ten years with the brooding, disabled Julian Thorne, pouring my heart into making him fall for me. And I felt a deep pity for him. So, when the system declared the mission a success, I didn’t leave that world. Instead, I used all my earned points to give him a healthy body. Julian believed it was a miracle. He started to thrive, and in just a few years, he became a rising star in the business world. At the same time, the faint scent of other women’s perfume started clinging to him. I saw him kissing another woman at an exclusive club. When someone mentioned me, he sneered, “She’s way out of my league now.” I turned away. “System, I want to leave this world.” The System replied, “But you don’t have enough points.” “Then switch that healthy body back. I don’t need it anymore.” I was stopped at the entrance of the elite club. “Cassie, Mr. Thorne isn’t here.” Marc Reynolds, Julian’s loyal subordinate, kept his head down, not daring to meet my eyes. He knew how flimsy his lie was. I looked at him calmly. “When you were at rock bottom, I was the one who gave you a way out.” Years ago, Marc had lost everything to a devastating con that wiped him out. Homeless and with nowhere to go, it was me who bought him a meal and introduced him to Julian’s company. He was capable, though, quickly becoming Julian’s fiercely loyal dog within a few years. Marc’s face flushed crimson, and the hand blocking my path trembled slightly. After a few seconds, he slowly lowered his arm. “Mr. Thorne’s in the penthouse suite.” … No one dared to stop me on the way up. I stood outside the suite door, listening to the familiar voices inside, a complex knot of emotions tightening in my chest. “Mr. Thorne secured that suburban project. He’s a hot commodity in Veridian City now.” “Right? Don’t forget to give us a leg up when the time comes, brother!” Julian’s voice remained lazy, unaffected by the fawning. “You’re joking. I’m just an ordinary guy.” But he wasn’t ordinary at all now. In just five years, he’d transformed from a penniless nobody into a formidable presence in Veridian City’s upper echelons, a highly sought-after business mogul. He had the courage, the strategy, and the ruthlessness. A woman’s giggle drifted out. I looked up. Julian was leaning back, letting a glamorous woman light his cigarette. They were incredibly close, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desire. He let her lean in, leaving an intimate lip print on his neck.

Inside the suite, glasses clinked and conversation flowed freely. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you twenty-eight this year? When are you tying the knot with Cassie? You absolutely have to invite us to the wedding!” Someone blurted out the question, and the entire room fell silent instantly. Julian, with an arm still around the woman, exhaled a plume of smoke. The swirling haze obscured his expression. The person who spoke realized their blunder. “My apologies! Guess I’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Thorne. Don’t mind me.” “Why would I mind? It’s not like it’s a secret.” Julian chuckled. “You all know about me and Cassandra.” Seeing that the atmosphere wasn’t as awkward as expected, everyone exchanged relieved glances and relaxed. “Right, we all know.” “Cassie was really good to you, no doubt about it.” “Back when you were still…” The person paused, seeing Julian’s gaze, and quickly changed tack. “Speaking of which, we haven’t seen Cassie in ages. What’s she been busy with lately?” “I don’t know.” Julian pressed his cigarette into the ashtray, letting out a slow sigh. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” No one replied, so he continued talking to himself. “You all know how I used to be, sitting in that wheelchair for over ten years. Even my own mother had given up on me. “I met Cassandra when I was a shell of a man. She saved me. “I’m grateful for her, and I did care for her, but honestly, she doesn’t fit into my life anymore.” A miracle six years ago had allowed him to walk again. It had also overturned his predestined tragic life. He had redefined his life. These past few years had proven it vividly. He was born to shine. Julian’s eyes flickered. “Cassandra saw me at my most pathetic. Now, every time I see her, I’m reminded of those days in the wheelchair. It makes me feel…sick.”

He truly had been pathetic back then. A car accident had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Every day, I’d clean and massage him, sometimes even handling the unavoidable mess. His pale face would always flush crimson with shame, afraid to look up at me. I took a deep breath, then pushed open the suite door. Julian noticed the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. He followed everyone’s gaze, turned his head, and saw me. I walked up to him, barely needing to look down. The woman beside him scrambled to her feet and rushed out. “What are you doing here?” Julian didn’t look at me again, reaching for a glass of wine. “Julian,” I said, “Let’s break up.” Julian’s drinking motion paused. “Don’t be dramatic.” “I’m not being dramatic, and I’m not crazy.” I smiled. “These past few years, watching you climb higher and higher, I’ve been happy for you. But my capabilities are limited. I can’t walk with you any further. Julian, you deserve better.” Julian took a nonchalant sip of wine. “You heard what I just said? Are you mad?” “You know I was just talking. You’ve been with me for ten years. I’ll always take care of you. Now, I have things to discuss with them. You should go home.” He truly found me disgusting. Couldn’t stand to look at me for another second. He didn’t care if I’d actually heard what he said, he didn’t care if I was angry. He was certain I wouldn’t leave him. After all, my background was ordinary. His status was now incredibly high, something an ordinary person like me could never achieve in a lifetime. I controlled my emotions. “I’ll move out of the apartment by tomorrow. You don’t need to give me any compensation. Let’s part ways amicably.” With that, I ignored them and turned to leave. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you going after her?” “Cassie’s really leaving!” “Going after her for what?” Julian was smugly confident. “She’s just talking. Where would she go? She just wants me to pay more attention to her. I can’t bring myself to grovel and coax her now.”

It was late autumn, and standing outside the towering building, feeling the cold wind hit my face, my mind was exceptionally clear. “System, I want to go home.” Three seconds later, a familiar mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Host, detection shows your points are insufficient to activate the dimensional portal.” I was stunned. Right, all my points were gone. How had I used them? Six years ago, I’d given Julian Thorne a miracle, spending every last point. I was a System Agent. And Julian, he was my target. The first time I met him, I almost gave up on the mission. He was gloomy, paranoid, sitting in his wheelchair, letting his pants get soiled, fiercely rejecting anyone who tried to get close. Like a wounded animal. I felt for him, pitying him, so I deliberately approached him, patiently trying to win him over. I stayed with him for ten years. I pried open the hard shell he used to protect himself, forcefully intervening in his life. I made him accustomed to my presence. Gradually, I made myself indispensable. But those ten years, true feelings had intertwined. I’d developed a near-adoring affection for this poor, self-conscious boy. So, when the System congratulated me on a successful mission, on a strange impulse, I didn’t choose to immediately leave the mission world. At that time, Julian was still a sensitive and fragile young man. He clumsily made a ring for me with his own hands, then, blushing, he put it on my finger. He said his biggest wish was to grow old with Cassandra. But I knew his deepest wish was to walk again. The childhood car accident had made him close himself off. I spent ten years making him open up to me, making my mission no longer purely about the task. I used the points gained from the successful mission to exchange for something from the System. It was a perfectly healthy body. I still remember that morning, Julian carefully walking on the carpet, tears silently falling. He held me and cried for a long time. He said it was the second great miracle bestowed upon him by heaven. I was the first. … Julian began to show his talent and extraordinary business acumen. This healthy body finally allowed him to shine, to stand out in any crowd. I can’t pinpoint when he started to change. I only remember one morning, I smelled a perfume on his suit that didn’t belong in our home. I simply asked about it calmly, and his face instantly showed impatience. “It’s just necessary business entertaining. Don’t be unreasonable.” My question became unreasonable. He spent more and more time entertaining outside, becoming increasingly smooth and cunning. I gradually forgot the shy, blushing boy who used to react to my every word. I also forgot the gloomy, self-conscious, disabled teenager he once was.

The four-hundred-square-meter apartment felt cold and empty. I packed my luggage, calculating the points I needed to return. “Can I exchange that healthy body I redeemed before, back to you?” I asked the System, “I don’t want it anymore. Depreciation is fine.” “Host, please wait.” Data streams flashed rapidly in my mind. The System’s voice remained emotionless. “After calculation, the target Julian Thorne’s body has suffered excessive wear and tear over the past six years. Smoking, drinking, late nights, and promiscuity have severely damaged his body. Its current recovery value is only half of its original worth.” The word “promiscuity” made my packing motions halt. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. After all, he was the man I’d accompanied for over a decade. I was heartbroken by his change of heart. And annoyed by my own softness. Such a person truly wasn’t worth my lingering attachment. “Will the exchanged points be enough for me to leave this world?” “Not enough, Host.” The System continued, “However, I can grant you a new identity. I can apply for a new target for you, and we can start over.” Start over, huh… Fine, I guess. “Then switch that healthy body back.” … As I boarded the plane to leave Veridian City, a half-drunk Julian was being sent back to the apartment by Marc. Perhaps feeling guilty, Marc had defied Julian’s wish to stay at the club and brought him back to our shared home. The System connected to the apartment’s surveillance, allowing me to see Julian’s current state clearly. He lay on the sofa, calling my name. “Cassandra, Cassandra.” Receiving no response, he struggled to sit up. After a long silence, he suddenly chuckled. “Quite the performance, aren’t we?” He thought my scene tonight was just a ploy to get his attention. He rubbed his forehead, a slight frown marring his brow. The headache from the alcohol made him irritable. Julian stood up, slowly walked to the living room, and took a bottle of ice water from the fridge. Just as he unscrewed the cap, he stumbled and fell to the floor unexpectedly. Julian sobered up completely, his mind reeling. He stared at his legs, reaching out with a trembling hand… “My legs…” He gripped them, disbelievingly, but no matter how hard he squeezed, he felt no pain. This feeling was all too familiar. After all, he’d lived like this for over a decade. That miserable, incapacitated, ghostly existence was a nightmare he couldn’t shake. Julian paused, then raised a hand and slapped himself hard across the face. It stung. So this wasn’t a dream… Julian in the surveillance footage completely lost control. He screamed and shouted in the large apartment. He wanted to find someone but realized his phone was on the coffee table. Julian braced himself with his hands on the floor, inching his body forward. His two legs dragged lifelessly behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled. The composed demeanor he once had was completely gone. I closed my eyes. “Turn it off. I don’t want to see it.”

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I was Julian’s kept man for five years. Purely in name. What he loved was just my face, a mirror image of Leo’s. On nights when his longing became unbearable, his fingers dug into my throat, his eyes blazing red as he snarled, “Kian, why wasn’t it *you* who died?!” I stopped fighting, letting Julian steal my breath. His broken, crumbling expression twisted grotesquely in my blurring vision. In these five years, he’d had so many moments of losing control. One second he’d almost kiss me raw. The next, he’d want me dead. To pay the price for my twin brother, Leo. I indulged every ounce of disgust and hatred festering inside me, picking the words I knew would hurt him most. Each one a knife to his gut. “Don’t pretend to be heartbroken! You never loved him when he was alive, did you? Leo would have poured his damn heart out to you! And you just used him as a pawn in your game with my dad! Go on, kill me! Then this face? You’ll only ever get to stare at it on a damn tombstone!” … After I’d spat my venom, I knew the beating was coming. The worst was two years ago, on Leo’s death anniversary. Julian wiped his lips, a streak of the red from where I’d bitten him, then yanked me to the floor. He grabbed the heavy brass floor lamp from beside the bed and swung it, without hesitation, smashing my knees twice. I bit down, hard, to stifle my cries, but hot, involuntary tears streamed down my face. “There, now you’re even more like Leo,” Julian said, pressing his foot into the hollow behind my knee and twisting his toe. I shook like a leaf, my vision tunneling to black, my jaw finally unlocking as a choked, desperate moan escaped me. Julian knelt, one hand gripping my chin, the other smoothing my bangs, slick with cold sweat. Then he pulled me into his arms. He murmured, his voice thick with tears, “Leo, I miss you so much.” I convulsed in his embrace. Julian, I want you to… Die! But now, I was tired. Exhausted, I let go of all my resentment and hatred. Five years of torturing each other. If one of us had to die for it to end. Then let it be me. I let Julian’s face blur in my vision… “Cough, cough—!” Julian suddenly let go. Air rushed back in, and I coughed violently, snot and tears streaming, pathetic as a clown again. Julian pulled away, standing by the bed, looking down at me as I curled into a ball. His voice was low, hoarse, and cold: “Your life was saved by Leo. You’re not allowed to die.” He was utterly insane. He’d just been trying to kill me moments ago. I nearly coughed my lungs out, finally breaking free from the agony of suffocation. I didn’t care that my clothes were barely covering anything, just lay sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My voice was steeped in despair: “Julian, it’s been five years. Haven’t you had enough? Leo, wherever he is, wouldn’t want this.” In five years beside him, I’d never said anything that sounded remotely like comfort. Any sane person would have heard that I was unilaterally surrendering, that I didn’t want to fight him anymore. Yet the next second, Julian was back, looming over me. His long, powerful legs forced their way between mine. I felt a flicker of confusion. All these years he’d kept me, Julian had only treated me as a substitute, as the enemy who’d caused Leo’s death. He’d never bothered with the final step. All his kisses, his touches, his bites, his rough handling—they were all just acts of pure rage. This intimate posture, I truly didn’t understand it. Had he come up with a new way to torment me? I awkwardly tried to pull away. He slammed a hand onto my shoulder. “Kian, whether this game between us begins or ends, it’s not up to you.” With that, he covered my mouth. And then reached for my pants! A jolt went through me, and I pushed him, hard: “What are you doing?!” Desire flared in Julian’s eyes. My mind, in a sudden, ill-timed twist, wondered: *Is this for Leo, or for me?* Then Julian’s voice, full of savage cruelty. His knee pressed against me: “Give up, Kian. This is your life now. You’re mine.”

I don’t know how much time passed. I just felt hot and weak all over. In a hazy dream, I thought I saw Leo. He was angry with me, demanding to know why I was sleeping with his beloved man. I wanted to scream that I was a straight guy, I didn’t want to either. But I couldn’t speak, frustrated and scratching at myself. Leo cried harder and harder, until his whole face dissolved into a blurry mess of tears. Just like his horrifying face after he was flung by that speeding car… “Leo!” I cried, but my outstretched hand grasped nothing. Couldn’t grasp Leo, flung by the car. Couldn’t grasp Leo, fading away, still blaming me. … “Kian, it’s me.” A soft, deep male voice, like a gentle, steady breeze, cleared all the chaotic images from my mind. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer sitting beside me. My arm was clutched tightly in his hand, the sleeve of his crisp white shirt already a crumpled mess. I quickly let go, my voice dry and hoarse: “Sorry.” He reached up to check my forehead. His clear, elegant eyes behind his glasses looked away, avoiding my gaze: “The fever’s gone down.” I hummed, glancing at the dim, dark sky outside the window, and asked him, “How long was I asleep?” “Thirty-two hours.” Spencer glanced at the grey diamond watch on his wrist. I shifted my body, and everything ached. A certain place felt like a scorching, piercing pain. Still, I bit back the pain and sat up, leaning against the headboard: “Thank you. Every time something goes wrong, I end up troubling you.” “Julian pays, I perform.” Spencer didn’t look up, methodically organizing his medical kit. But then, without warning, his movements faltered, instruments clinking together. He sprang to the bedside, his perfectly chiseled face inches from mine, the corners of his eyes flushed with raw emotion: “Kian, trust me. I *can* help you!” I stared at him, forcing a bitter smile and shaking my head. This was the second time I’d rejected his offer of help. Spencer was Julian’s private physician. Whenever I felt unwell and a few pills weren’t enough, he was the one who handled it. Two years ago, when my knee was shattered, Julian called him to treat me. That was the first time I’d seen the usually cool and composed Spencer lose his composure. He picked me up, growling, “He needs to go to the hospital! Otherwise, he’ll lose this leg!” Unfortunately, Julian merely chuckled dismissively: “Good. Leo had his leg broken for me, and was left unable to walk. His stand-in ought to be more dedicated.” I leaned my head against Spencer’s chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat. He looked down at me, his lips trembling. Then, ignoring Julian’s protests, he took me to his hospital. After the surgery, when the anesthesia wore off, I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Spencer pushed his glasses up, seemingly making a decision: “Kian, I can find a way to deal with your father’s debt.” I looked at this usually silent, aloof man, a little surprised. He was Julian’s friend, yet he wanted to save me from this hell. But this hell was something I had to endure. I needed to stay by Julian’s side as Leo’s substitute, so that Julian would go easy and not pursue the massive debt my dad owed him. Otherwise, my dad wouldn’t survive. I stopped reminiscing, avoiding Spencer’s earnest gaze: “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine now. You can go.” I could practically hear his jaw grinding in frustration. But he said no more, stood up, grabbed his medical kit, and left. He ran into Julian outside the door. The door was ajar, and their conversation was perfectly clear. “Is Kian alright?” Julian asked, his tone dismissive. Spencer’s emotions were now perfectly concealed: “The fever’s gone down. But the tearing down there will need some time to heal.” He paused, then added, “Julian, control yourself.” Julian scoffed: “Isn’t that what you’re here for? He won’t die.” Then he pushed the door open and walked in. I looked away, not wanting to see him. Julian sat on the edge of the bed and placed the takeout he was carrying on the nightstand: “You’re hungry, right? Eat something.” It wasn’t concern, it was a command. I looked at the takeout. It was heavily spiced tripe stew. “You love it, don’t you? Don’t leave any.” Julian opened the box, pulled out a pair of disposable gloves, and held it out to me. “I’m not hungry.” Julian didn’t move. His cold, menacing eyes fixed on me, unblinking. Resigned, I put on the gloves and took the container. I took a bite. It was insanely spicy. Julian pulled out his phone and opened a surveillance feed. It showed Spencer and me talking just moments ago. “Kian, I know your every move. Don’t try to pull any stunts. It’s useless.” A chill snaked up my spine, and I instinctively looked around. I had no idea where the cameras were hidden. I lowered my head and continued to gnaw on the tripe. It was so spicy. That’s why, I told myself, I was crying.

This torment continued for over a month. By the time Julian took me golfing again, I’d lost a ton of weight. I actually looked like a frail, delicate little thing. Julian’s friends formed their own clique, laughing amongst themselves, their occasional glances at me filled with unconcealed mockery and disdain. I stood beside them, holding Julian’s golf club, feeling like nothing more than the golf ball being hit back and forth. One of them, Brett, casually tucked his left hand into his pocket, tossed a ball with his right, then lifted his hand and pointed at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Kian, my man, fetch the ball, will you?” The surrounding chatter instantly died, and all eyes turned to me. A perverse pleasure, the thrill of watching a spectacle, silently swelled between them. I didn’t move. Looking at their young faces, all brimming with superiority, I thought vaguely, *What would the old Kian have done?* He would have charged at them, kicked each one until they begged for mercy. No, back then, in Rosewood, no one would have dared to mock me like this. My dad, my brother—they were my solid, broad umbrella, shielding me from all the crap life could throw at me. My world was smooth sailing, full of flattery, and “Kian, my man” was a byword for reckless glory. But now, that umbrella had been cruelly shattered, and raging storms swept over me. Even those lowlifes who wouldn’t have dared to approach me before now found amusement in tormenting me. “Go fetch it, or I’ll tell Julian. I hear Mr. Thorne has quite the ways of dealing with people.” Brett’s eyes lingered on me in an unreadable way, then drifted to the little white dot on the distant grass. “One moment.” I said, my voice so calm it even surprised me. I placed Julian’s club back in the bag, then, enduring the excruciating pain in my left knee, walked step by painful step towards that humiliatingly white ball. Julian was currently in the VIP lounge, handling an urgent business call. Before that, he’d already made me his caddy, fetching balls for him over a dozen times. He wouldn’t let me use a cane. He just wanted to torment my useless leg. It was effective. I was limping especially badly now. I’d only taken a few steps, but I was already sweating from the pain. But when I finally retrieved the ball, and could already see Brett’s magnified smirk. He threw another one. Even further. Brett called out, mimicking a pleading tone: “Kian, please—!” I gripped the ball tightly in my hand, fighting the urge to throw it at his arrogant face. I turned to fetch the next ball. Behind me, a wave of laughter erupted—their triumphant celebration of my humiliation. By the time I returned the second time, my left leg could barely lift. As I neared Brett, my foot caught on the turf, and I went down on my knees. The retrieved ball slipped from my grasp and rolled away. Julian, who had just returned, stepped on it, then another, neatly stopping all the scattered balls. Brett suppressed a laugh: “Mr. Thorne, look at Kian here, bowing so deeply on an ordinary day.” Julian ignored him, walking over and extending a hand to me. I looked up at his emotionless face, unsure whether to take his hand. “Do you like kneeling?” Julian’s voice was sharp. So I took his well-defined hand. Julian pulled me up, didn’t let go, and led me slowly past them. Then he commanded: “Hand me the club.” As soon as the club was in his hand, I saw a flash of silver. “Ah—!” Brett clutched his knee, screaming as he crumpled to the ground, howling in agony, “Ah—! Ah—!” Julian casually tossed the golf club, its head dented, and stepped on the writhing Brett. “Mr. Thorne!” Someone tried to interject. Julian’s fierce gaze swept over them, and no one dared to speak again. “Even if Kian is just a plaything, he’s *my* plaything. You think you’re worthy of humiliating him?!” “Mr. Th-Thorne, I’m sorry—!” Brett sobbed, snot and tears streaming. “Crawl over and apologize.” Brett crawled, a pathetic snake, to my feet: “Kian, I’m so sorry, I’ll never dare to do it again, please forgive me…” The others looked at me with a newfound hint of fear. But it only made me feel like nothing more than Julian’s pet. It was pathetic. I took a step back: “Don’t do this. Get up.” “Whack—!” Julian stepped forward and slapped me across the face. My ears rang for a long time. Eventually, the stinging heat faded. Julian’s voice was sharp: “His apology to you is a courtesy *I’m* extending. You will accept it.” That moment of bittersweet warmth I’d felt when he extended his hand to me had been brutally distorted by that slap. It morphed into profound self-loathing. God, I was so utterly pathetic, falling for a monster like Julian.

Julian got sick. In five years, I’d barely heard him cough more than a few times. But now, he was shivering violently, curled up on the large bed in the villa’s medical room, all his sharp, cold edges melted away, leaving him a vulnerable, pitiable animal. I sat by the bed, examining his flushed, sickly face. On a sudden impulse, I cautiously reached out, tracing the curve of his brow. The heat radiating from his body traveled through my fingertips, burning a path to my heart, making me flinch. A soft cough came from the doorway. I snapped my hand back, turning to see Spencer standing there with his medical kit, his gaze heavy. “Dr. Hayes.” Spencer nodded, opened the closet, took out a lab coat specially kept for him, changed into it, sanitized himself, and then examined Julian. I automatically moved to the corner massage sofa, out of the way. After Spencer finished his procedures, he said calmly, “He’s fine. Just overworked.” “His health has always been excellent, and he’s always been busy. Before…” “You’re worried about him?” Spencer cut me off, tilting his head. He’d caught me off guard. I opened my mouth but no words came out, so I just nodded. “I give him regular check-ups, and I’m very familiar with his physical condition. The human body has its limits. Even the strongest people have their breaking point and need to stop and rest. The high fever is just his body’s cry for help. A good night’s sleep and a few days of rest will fix him.” “Alright, thank you.” Spencer set up an IV for Julian. Julian stirred, turning twice impatiently: “Kian.” His delirious murmur was so soft, I almost couldn’t believe I’d heard my own name. Disbelieving, yet hopeful, I walked over and leaned closer. “Kian, I’m cold.” As if under a spell, I immediately and gently tucked the blanket more tightly around him. The next second, Spencer yanked me violently aside, his clear, sharp eyes clouded with fury: “Kian, if I wasn’t here, would you have wrapped your arms around him to warm him up?” My hidden thoughts exposed, I awkwardly looked away. “Kian, you’re sick.” Spencer’s voice was heavy with pain, as if I were already beyond saving. “I think you need to see a therapist. I have a friend who’s an expert in this field, I’ll SnapChat you his contact.” Spencer picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as they scrolled across the screen, not at all like hands that could wield a scalpel. “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine.” Spencer seemed not to hear. My phone vibrated. I opened it to find the therapist’s contact he’d sent. “Stockholm Syndrome can be completely reversed with timely intervention.” “Dr. Hayes, I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need a therapist.” I fled, trying to get out. Spencer followed closely, cornering me at the top of the stairs. “Kian, you can’t love Julian.” When such a thought was so bluntly exposed, I suddenly lost all strength to deny or hide it. I slumped against the wall, a lost cause, just letting myself rot: “But I am a rotten person who doesn’t know what’s good for him. Julian’s good-looking, and now he’s a big shot in Rosewood. Besides, he’s practically ruined me. Why can’t I love him?” Spencer took off his glasses, looking pained, and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Dr. Hayes, don’t bother with me. Just let me rot.” With that, I brushed past Spencer’s shoulder, ready to go downstairs. “Kian, have you never once doubted your brother’s death?”

Julian would wake up, see the villa’s security footage, and realize Spencer and I had left together. He’d probably go insane. And then he’d make me suffer terribly again. But I didn’t care anymore. Spencer had hit my weak spot, and I had no choice but to get into his Porsche. “Talk. What do you know?” I asked from the passenger seat, letting Spencer drive two blocks before pulling over into the shade of some trees. My jaw was clenched, my heart churning like it was in a frying pan. Spencer was blunt: “Julian used several accounts, making small, frequent transfers to the driver, Mark, over three years, totaling two million. It was to get him to cause the car accident and kill Leo. That two million was just enough for Mark to get his daughter the highest-end cochlear implant and ensure his wife and daughter could live a stable life afterward.” “He killed someone for two million?” My voice was warped. Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile: “Kian, two million might not even buy you a watch, but for Mark, it was his daughter’s chance at a normal life, their only hope of changing their future.” “I don’t give a damn about the disparities in the world right now. Just tell me why Julian killed my brother.” Leo loved Julian so much. Loved him enough to willingly betray my dad, to give Julian a clear advantage in the bidding for that huge piece of land on the east side of town. Loved him enough to unhesitatingly block an attack from an enemy, breaking his leg for Julian. Loved him enough to learn carving, his hands covered in calluses, just to carve Julian a jade figurine. Loved him enough to make a life-sized doll of Julian and cuddle it every night. Julian would just smile at him, and Leo would give away a business deal. Julian would put an arm around his shoulder, and Leo would gleefully hand over the most valuable club my dad owned. It enraged my dad so much that he snapped the old wooden paddle he kept for discipline, and Leo’s back and butt were a bloody, pulpy mess. His high IQ, once so evident as a top student, seemed to vanish. He seemed to use up all the stupidity he’d never committed in twenty-some years, all on Julian. Like an idiot, he would have ripped out his own heart and offered it to Julian, and even if Julian trampled all over it, Leo would have been happy. And now Julian wanted to kill him? Spencer sighed: “Because of you.” I felt like I suddenly couldn’t understand English, asking blankly, “Because of me?” “Eight years ago, you graduated college and held your graduation art exhibit in the city. Julian was with a friend, strolling through, and he saw you.” I tried to recall that distant scene. I was an art slacker, really. My graduation exhibit was purely because my dad and Leo wanted to promote me, so I wouldn’t end up unable to sell a single painting. Most of the people who came were invited to show support; they might not have understood art, but they understood social etiquette, lavishly praising my haphazard scribbles as if I was about to become the American Picasso. But I replayed my memories again and again, still finding no trace of Julian. I could only look helplessly at Spencer, waiting for him to wipe away the dust of memory and expose the initial entanglement between Julian and me. “Julian fell in love with you.” Just a few words, yet they hit me like a sledgehammer. They cracked open details I’d never noticed before. During the time Leo was pursuing Julian, his aesthetic suddenly changed. In college, he’d meticulously worn student uniforms; after graduation, he’d worn perfectly tailored suits, always dignified and elegant. But then, he started rummaging through my closet, saying he wanted to learn trendy styles. I scoffed, telling him he couldn’t pull off the artistic vibe. Leo just smiled and shook his head, looking resigned: “Julian likes it. He wants me to try something new.” Damn him! Leo, trying so hard, was he just playing *my* substitute? How could Julian be so twisted?! It took me a long moment to find my voice, my heart sinking, yet I still forced myself to rail: “What are you talking about?! Spencer, I don’t believe any of this! Love me? Murder? I don’t believe it!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297442”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf

I entered the horror game, but due to my severe nearsightedness, I couldn’t see clearly. I treated the blood-dressed ghost loli like my own daughter, the big boss like my husband, and the old ghosts like my parents. When we first met, I grabbed the big boss’s abs and sighed: “Nice body, but you’re a bit short.” The boss laughed angrily, put his severed head back on his neck, and gritted his teeth: “I’m 6’1″. Take another look now?” 0[Welcome to the “House of Happiness” mission. [Players who survive for seven days in this mission will pass. [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 30. [We wish all players an enjoyable game~] After dying in a car accident, a flash of white light passed, and I arrived in front of a large building. An eerie mechanical voice sounded in my ears. Because I’m severely nearsighted, I can’t distinguish between people and animals within 10 feet. I couldn’t see what the building looked like clearly, nor could I make out the exact appearance of the people around me. I could only see vague human shapes. At this time, I heard a fragile schoolgirl crying: “Wah, where is this? I want to go home.” A yellow-haired guy cursed angrily: “Who’s messing with us? Let me go back!” A relatively calm man and woman stepped forward. They introduced themselves as veteran players named Rachel and Jack, and kindly explained to us. This was an infinite horror game, and those pulled into this game were all dead people. If we could clear all the missions and accumulate the legendary 9999 points, we could be resurrected. Hearing we could be resurrected, I hurriedly asked: “So how many points can you get for clearing one mission?” Rachel seemed a bit down and said softly: “It depends on your terror value when you clear it. If you clear with 99 terror, you’ll only get 1 point. If you hit 100 terror, you die instantly.” Terror value, as the name suggests, is the degree of fear. Veteran players familiar with the game can usually keep their terror below 60. As for new players, well, it’s pretty rough. I rubbed my chin and asked again: “Then what if you clear with 0 terror? Can you get 100 points?” As soon as I said this, unbeknownst to me, everything was being livestreamed. Countless comments mocked me: [This newbie is so arrogant! Although the House of Happiness is only an S-rank mission and not the highest level, it’s still never been cleared due to its insane difficulty!] [Didn’t the famous player James from the top guild fail here last time? He made it to day 6 but still died in the end.] [We’re screwed, this random matchmaking only has two veteran players, Rachel and Jack. The two of them together aren’t as good as James. Looks like it’ll be a team wipe again.] 0

Soon, it was time for us to choose rooms. Rachel said that although no one had cleared this mission before, the players who died previously had figured out some tips. This building has 30 floors total, with one apartment per floor. Only one player can stay on each floor. And the House of Happiness is actually a role-playing horror mission. There are some ghosts living in each apartment, and they will play various close relationships with the players. So how could the terror value not fluctuate dramatically after living together for seven days? Jack hurriedly interrupted Rachel and pulled her along to choose the first and second floors. Seeing the veteran players make this choice, some smart people quickly followed suit and chose the lower floors. Because of my poor eyesight, I couldn’t run fast enough, so I had to wait for everyone else to choose. In the end, only the 30th floor was left for me. Taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t see, the comments were chattering again: [This newbie is dead for sure. Everyone knows the higher the floor, the higher level the boss.] [Especially the 30th floor, it’s all big bosses, known as the House of Death.] I reached the 30th floor and looked around, finding it not much different from reality. Just a bit more bloody smell, redder walls, lower temperature, darker lighting… Plus, this was a huge penthouse! With the family I’ve always dreamed of! You should know, in reality I’m not only a severely nearsighted useless person, but also an orphan, and even more so a poor dog! I walked to the door, unhesitatingly reached out my hand, knocked hard, and shouted: “Open up quick, baby’s home! I’ll starve to death if you don’t open!” The comments were stunned: [Is she purely seeking death? Which player doesn’t politely knock or wait quietly at the door for the ghosts to be in a good mood to open up.] [I don’t want to watch this brainless woman anymore. I’m switching to another stream. I’ll go watch Rachel.] [Keep watching! I want to see how she dies!] 0

Actually, they don’t understand my thought process. Since it’s role-playing and we’re supposed to become a family with the ghosts, of course we should interact naturally. In real life, would you very politely say “Hello, is anyone there? Please help me open the door” when returning to your own home? After knocking, the door creaked open and a chill swept over my entire body. I sighed comfortably. This was simply a summer resort. No need for air conditioning even in summer. I looked down and saw a small red “figure”. Although my vision was always blurry, the two braids swinging back and forth suggested it was a child in a red dress. The child smiled eerily and suddenly pounced at me, her icy little hands gripping my neck. I hugged her in my arms, feeling her dress was wet, and immediately said disapprovingly: “How can a child wear wet clothes? Take them off quickly! I’ll get you changed into dry clothes!” My nose twitched, smelling a bloody scent, and I anxiously asked: “Are you hurt somewhere? Where’s the first aid kit? I’ll help you treat it.” The comments bitterly complained: [Sister, open your dog eyes and look! This is one of the bosses of the House of Death. What she’s wearing isn’t a wet red dress, it’s dyed red from killing and dismembering players! The bloody smell isn’t because she’s hurt, it’s the players’ blood on her dress.] [Never mind, when that person comes home, she’s dead for sure.] Unfortunately, I couldn’t see these comments. I carried the child into the house while helping her take off the red dress. I found a new white dress in her exquisite princess room and put it on her. The child’s little hands gripping my neck unconsciously loosened. Sensing her uncertainty, I took a warm towel, leaned in closer, and gently wiped the blood stains off her face bit by bit. Only then did I see clearly that she was an adorable little loli. I smiled and pointed at my face, saying: “As family members, helping each other is what I should do. But shouldn’t you give me a kiss to show your thanks?” The little loli shyly tugged at her white dress, quietly leaned in to my face, and gave me a quick peck before quickly pulling away. Her voice was soft and sweet as she said: “Thank you, Mommy.” What? Mommy? I’ve become a painless mother! This is simply too awesome! You should know, in reality I’ve heard so many stories of women dying in childbirth. Although I long for a family, I’m most afraid of giving birth. I had just coaxed the little loli to take an afternoon nap when I heard the mechanical voice announce: [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 20.] I didn’t expect that just from choosing rooms, 10 players had already died. I opened my phone and held it close to my eyes, barely able to make out the text on the screen. It turned out everyone was exchanging information in the player group chat, like how other players died. Apparently, Brad and three other men had fought fiercely over the 3rd floor. In the end, Brad narrowly won and moved into the 3rd floor. As soon as Brad knocked on the door, a human-bodied dog-headed ghost walked out, opened its bloody maw, and swallowed Brad whole. It then chewed a few times and spat out some white bones with bits of flesh still attached. Through the half-open door, other players saw a large pile of bones inside. They guessed those were probably the remains of previous players. Witnessing this, basically all the new players’ adrenaline spiked. Now except for Rachel and Jack, everyone’s terror value was at 50, and this was only the first day! There was also a middle-aged uncle whose terror value shot up to 100 the instant he walked through the 10th floor door, and he died directly. The other players died in various ways, either killed by ghosts or scared to death. Of course, none of this had anything to do with me. I stood up and, while the little loli was sleeping, diligently found a mop from the bathroom and cleaned the entire apartment. I scrubbed the red floor tiles until they turned white. I’m really capable! The red stains on the walls that I couldn’t clean off, I just scraped away with a chisel. By the time I finished, it was already afternoon. My back ached from the work, so I lay down on the sofa next to the little loli and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up again, I was enveloped by an icy aura. The room was very dark, and a blurry black shadow stood in front of me. Although I couldn’t see clearly, I was captivated by his voice from his very first sentence. 0

He chuckled in a low, sexy voice: “Heh, interesting. You’ve actually survived this long with Sissy.” Immediately after, the little loli Sissy’s cold voice also sounded: “You’d better not touch her. This mommy is quite interesting. I want to keep her to play with.” The man didn’t respond to her. With a wave of his hand, the little loli named Sissy flew backwards off the sofa, crashed into the balcony glass with a loud “bang”, along with the sound of bones shattering. The man laughed coldly: “Who allowed you to talk to me like that? You really think you’re my daughter?” I couldn’t stand it anymore. I scrambled up from the sofa, muttering: “Who allowed you to talk to a child like that? What kind of father are you?” I meant to slap the man’s face, but somehow my hand slipped and grabbed his abs instead. Tsk, the feeling was so good I couldn’t help but feel them up a couple more times. Seeing the man on the verge of exploding with rage, his whole body emitting black energy, I hurriedly tried to salvage the situation: “Sissy is my little treasure, you’re my big treasure. We’re just a loving family. “Actually, um, honey, your body is pretty nice, but why do you look a bit short? “It’s okay, now that I’m here, I’ll cook delicious food for you every day. I guarantee both father and daughter will grow tall.” The comments went crazy: [God, what is she saying? How dare she say these things in front of the Headless Big Boss!] [Finally the Headless Big Boss appears. He should be the strongest boss in the House of Happiness mission, right? James died at his hands back then.] [But why is the Big Boss’s face suspiciously red? I’m shipping it.] [Above, you’re just hungry.] The livestream audience was all waiting for the man to snap my neck. That was the fate of previous players. 0

Unexpectedly, the next second, the man raised his hand and suddenly put the head he was holding back on his neck. Then he leaned in close to me, his cool and evil image gone, his voice mixed with inexplicable grievance: “I’m short? I’m a solid 6’1″. Take another look, won’t you?” These days, as long as he’s a man, even if he’s a ghost, they all care about height! “Nina, I advise you, look carefully.” The man suddenly called my name, so alluring it made my heart race. I yanked his tie hard, making him press completely against me, while coquettishly murmuring: “Can’t see clearly, come closer.” Staring at the handsome face clearly magnified before me, I secretly rejoiced: Thank goodness, thank goodness this broken horror game only looks at terror value, not heart rate. Otherwise, I’d definitely be dead. Seeing the man not saying anything, I worried he was angry. I immediately nodded with starry eyes, fawning: “Wow! You’re 6’1″, I’m 5’5″, the perfect height difference. We’re truly a match made in heaven!” The man in the suit turned bright red. He was about to speak. The next second, the blood-dressed loli who had just reassembled her bones rushed over, kicked the man up to the ceiling, leaving him stuck there unable to get down. Then the little loli looked at me innocently, nuzzled my face, and said with moist eyes: “Mommy, Sissy, hungry hungry, food food.” Who could resist this? I immediately took out ingredients from the fridge, squinted my eyes, and happily went to cook for the little loli… and my husband. My cooking skills are no joke. The father-daughter pair licked the bowls and plates clean. When I went to shower, I seemed to hear them talking cordially: “Sissy, actually keeping this woman is fine. Her cooking is quite delicious.” “But Daddy, when those two come back tomorrow, they’ll explode if they know we won’t eat their food anymore.” “You call that food? If they dare question it, I’ll kill them first.” “Okay, I’ll keep watch for you.” After my shower, I very naturally occupied the master bedroom. I peeked out from under the covers sneakily, seeing that black shadow still sitting motionless on the sofa. So I started showcasing my virtues in a soft, gentle voice: “Honey, why don’t you go shower in the bathroom yourself, and I’ll help wash your hair in the kitchen? It’ll be faster that way.” Comments: [What kind of devil suggestion is this?] 0

More outrageously, the Headless Big Boss, for whatever reason, actually agreed to my proposal. In the end, we split up to carry out the plan. I hummed a tune while washing the man’s head in the kitchen. The comments watched this bizarre scene with goosebumps: [In my opinion, birds of a feather flock together. This Nina is also a dead pervert.] They had no idea that to my severely nearsighted eyes, I was just washing a hairy black watermelon in my hands. Suddenly, the “black watermelon” in my hands spoke: “You seem to be in a good mood?” I frankly said: “Of course! I feel like I’m getting along great with you and your daughter. We’ll definitely clear the mission smoothly.” The black watermelon stared at me, suddenly grinning eerily yet handsomely: “You’ll get your wish, Nina.” I looked at him tenderly… actually I couldn’t see clearly, but never mind these details. “I still don’t know your name?” The black watermelon, oh no, the Headless Big Boss suddenly flew his whole head off, perfectly connecting with the body that had just walked out of the bathroom, turning back into that dashingly handsome 6’1″ man. The man seemed to recall something unpleasant, his voice hoarse: “I don’t have a name. If you’re willing, you can give me one.” After saying this, the man quickly left, telling me in a low mood that he was going to sleep in the guest room. Tsk, this husband is so stingy. Can’t he let me sleep while feeling his abs? I scratched my head, unable to think of a good name for the moment, so I went back to the bedroom to keep thinking. Just as I was pondering, the next second, a pair of pitch-black eyes appeared in my blanket, a small face emitting a ghostly glow. It was like a scene straight out of The Grudge. Fortunately I couldn’t see clearly, only seeing a blurry white shape. “Mommy, don’t pay attention to that headless old monster. Tonight, Sissy wants to sleep with Mommy.” So it was Sissy. I don’t know when she had crawled into my blanket. I pinched her little face, picked her up into my arms, and gently instructed: “You can’t call Daddy an old monster. It’ll make him sad.” Sissy looked at me in confusion, opened her mouth to reveal bloodily bare gums with all the teeth pulled out: “Hee hee~ But I’m a little monster too. They even call me little vixen and little bitch.” 0

I sighed, trying to correct this little ghost’s thinking: “Who are ‘they’? It’s wrong of them to say these things. If Mommy ever meets them, no matter what, I’ll definitely scold them back and hit them back for Sissy. “But Sissy, you can’t talk about yourself like that. It makes Mommy sad too.” Later, I rambled on and on, somehow falling asleep without realizing. What I didn’t know was… After I fell asleep, Sissy clung tightly to me, staring at my sleeping face. Her dress turned from red to white, then white to red again and again. Then she muttered softly: “Mommy will be sad. Can’t let Mommy be sad.” The comments also nervously spammed: [This is the first time I’ve seen the blood-dressed loli’s ghost energy fluctuate so much! In the end her dress stayed white and didn’t change back.] [Damn, this newbie changed the blood-dressed loli’s attributes. She’s got skills!] The next morning, I was woken up by the mechanical voice announcement: [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 15.] I groggily picked up my phone and saw the player group discussing that 5 more people had died last night. Three died at the hands of ghosts. Two experienced something unknown, their terror value spiking to 100, and they were gone too. I suddenly received a private message from Rachel: [Nina, are you okay? I was busy dealing with the ghost on the second floor yesterday and didn’t have a chance to tell you. For the first three days, you must seize the time to win over your “family members”. I watched James’s livestream back then. This is the information I know, just take it as compensation. It’s my fault for not explaining the room selection rules in advance, causing you to have to live on the 30th floor.] Besides this, Rachel was also giving advice to many new players in the group chat. Jack occasionally came out to curse: [Why tell these newbies? I think you’re just too kind. Helping them doesn’t do us any good.] Rachel typed to persuade him: [It’s not easy to meet. Don’t be so calculative.] So the surviving players were all grateful to Rachel. These two veteran players are quite interesting. I smiled slightly and pressed my face to the screen to reply to Rachel: [I’m doing great, thanks for your concern.] The Headless Big Boss was holding his own head in one hand and Sissy in her white dress in the other, doing “dumbbell” lifts. Seeing me hugging my phone, he seemed to realize something and frowned slightly: “Don’t trust too mu-” Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed. Sissy frowned worriedly and hurried to support him. I also quickly rushed over to catch him with my body. The mission system restricts NPCs from revealing specific clearance information to players.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298434”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf

The day I was diagnosed with cancer, my boyfriend broke up with me. Again. I just smiled, telling him to wait. He lost it, smashing everything in the room. “Why isn’t it *you* who’s dying?!” Three months ago, his first love died in a car crash. He blamed me, saying it was because I was jealous and wouldn’t let him drive her home. I lowered my eyes, repeating softly, “Just wait a little longer.” Wait a little longer, and it *will* be me dying. **1** Caleb was completely wasted again, the air in the sealed room thick with the stench of smoke and alcohol. After getting him settled and cleaning up, I finally had a moment to look at the diagnostic report. From time to time, Caleb mumbled in his sleep, calling out his ex-girlfriend’s name. I suddenly laughed out loud for no reason. I could recite every word on that report, but the brutal truth? I just couldn’t bring myself to accept it. The room lights flickered on, snapping me out of my trance. I quickly crumpled the report and shoved it into my pocket. Good thing Caleb didn’t even glance my way. He rubbed his temples, walked straight to the memorial in the living room, lit an incense stick, and bowed solemnly. After Serena died in the car accident, Caleb intentionally placed her memorial photo in our home. He’d said, “I want you to look at her every day and feel guilty.” Guilty for what? The day it happened, Serena got drunk. She clung to my boyfriend, crying about how she’d never forgotten him all these years. She brazenly ignored me, his current girlfriend, using her drunkenness as an excuse. No matter how much our other classmates tried to intervene at the reunion, it was useless. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her from Caleb’s arms and tossed her aside. Caleb wanted to take her home. I scoffed, “With so many classmates here, what business is it of yours?” The standoff lasted a long time until Serena’s admirer offered to take her, finally easing the tension. But I never expected them to get into a car crash and both die. And Caleb? He blamed me for everything. It was utterly absurd. Did he… did he want to die too? **2** After his private ritual, Caleb walked up to me, looking down. “Your turn,” he commanded. I let out a soft laugh. “How long are you going to keep up this charade?” He frowned, kicking the table in front of me away. “You don’t want to? Fine, let’s break up then. Can you really bear to lose your golden goose?” He always used that line to threaten me. He was addicted to it. Caleb and I had been together for four years. We once had over six hundred thousand followers because we used to show off our relationship online. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. They even said the way Caleb looked at me was full of love. Back then, he even boasted, “The way I look at Anya will never change, not even when I’m old. No, wait, when I’m eighty and my eyes are blurry, I might not even recognize my own little grandma, her.” But people change. Especially as they get older, when the initial passion fades, it’s easier for other thoughts to creep in. I never realized how much he liked his ex-girlfriend until that last reunion. That’s when I discovered the timeless truth about the idealized first love and the complicated present one. His idealized first love hadn’t forgotten him, and he suddenly remembered how great she was. And me, getting older and less appealing? Not so charming anymore. Maybe after I die, he’ll reminisce about me just as deeply to his next girlfriend. I initially played along with Caleb’s twisted ritual out of pity. He was practically losing his mind, tormented by guilt and regret. I thought letting him shift the blame onto me might make him feel better. But I never expected him to get so lost in the role. **3** “Just wait a little longer.” I said it with a smile, then stood up to shower. Maybe he felt I wasn’t taking his words seriously, because he started smashing things like a maniac. Everything in the room, from large furniture to small ornaments, was something we’d chosen together. Each item held a story, a memory. He roared while trashing the place, “Why isn’t it *you* who died?!” Looking at the wreckage, my heart was strangely calm. I even smiled genuinely. “Just wait.” Seriously. Just wait. Liver cancer. Three to six months, tops. Caleb didn’t grasp the grim meaning behind my words. He rushed over, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me hard. “If you don’t want to break up, then go pay your respects to her. Go!” In the end, I complied. Caleb was giving me a headache. A child throwing a tantrum really never ends. **4** That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So I just sat up and watched Caleb beside me. Lately, he always turned his back to me, keeping his distance. I had to prop myself up, reach over, and crane my neck just to see his face. He didn’t seem to be sleeping peacefully; his brows were tightly furrowed. His usually youthful face was etched with a new weariness. His eyelashes were long enough to make anyone jealous, his high nose tracing a sharp line in the air, and his pointed chin had a faint stubble. I gazed at him, lost in thought, my memory suddenly pulling me back to our first meeting. He was eighteen then, just starting college, brimming with endless energy, sweating on the basketball court, drawing screams from a crowd of fanatical admirers. I was twenty-three, back at my old university for some business. I saw a bunch of young heartthrobs on the court and went to check it out. When he ended the game with a three-pointer, I screamed with the crowd, as excited as if I’d gone back to my own youth. He instantly noticed me in the crowd, looking over, his eyes full of pride. I gave him an unreserved thumbs-up. Then, he came running towards me, hugging the basketball. “Hey, are you a teacher?” Under the glorious sunlight, his skin was almost translucent. His amber eyes were as clear as a stream. He was so close, I could even smell the distinct youthful scent of him. “I’m not a teacher, and teachers can’t be called ‘hey.’” I looked up, meeting his gaze intensely until the tips of his ears turned faintly red. Only then did I let him off the hook, satisfied. Back then, Caleb and I were both pretty obvious. I wanted to flirt with him. And he was interested in me too. But no one expected us to actually fall in love, to playfully navigate four years together. Being an older woman in a relationship with a younger man, I naturally tolerated his childishness and stubbornness. In return, he gave me the pure honesty and romance of youth. But recently, he’d become way too selfish. And he’d forgotten to give back. **5** I hadn’t slept all night. When I finally drifted off and woke up again, it was already evening. Moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a stark white glow. I instinctively reached for my phone to check my content analytics. My team had updated everything as usual, and our sales metrics were stable. This influencer marketing agency? Caleb and I started it together. I put up the money, and I managed it. He just had to show up and act for the videos. I often marveled at how he was born into such a good era. He really could make a living just by being good-looking. And a *great* living, at that. But early success and easy money are never really good things. I suffered for it, and so did he. I called Caleb several times, but got no answer. I got up to wash my face, but on the way, the memorial photo startled me again. I grabbed a few tissues, covered it, and continued to the bathroom. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the silence behind me. “What are you doing?” I froze, turning around to see Caleb smoking on the balcony. A glowing cigarette butt, almost burnt out, pulsed between his fingers. Wisps of smoke drifted upwards, blurring his face. He must have been angry about my disrespect towards Serena just now. “She might be cold,” I mumbled, walking into the bathroom. He stormed to the doorway, eyes blazing red. “She’s dead! Why do you still have to humiliate her?” I laughed. “Humiliate her? Kid, if I *really* wanted to humiliate her, I would have told everyone at her funeral that the baby she was carrying was *yours*.” It took me all night to decide to lay everything bare. Given my current situation, there was no point in pretending anymore. I found out about it two days ago. Caleb was completely wasted then, so drunk he was spilling secrets without even knowing it. He even forgot that I slapped him twice, stripped him, and left him on the balcony to freeze for half the night. That’s when I finally understood why he felt so guilty, why he *needed* to push the blame onto me just to survive. I had planned to carefully sort out the company shares, minimize my losses, and then break up with him. But I never expected to be diagnosed with cancer. Sigh. I guess I’ll have to play a different game now. I may be attracted to good looks, but I’m no pushover. **6** All the aggression drained from Caleb. He stood frozen, silent for a long moment. “I really spoiled you.” I finished washing my face and walked out. As I brushed past him, he grabbed my wrist, clutching it like a drowning man, desperately asking, “When… when did you find out?” I pushed him away. “Does it matter?” He stumbled a few steps, then slumped against the wall, utterly lost. He slowly slid to the floor, tilting his pale face up at me, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Yeah, does it matter? As long as it doesn’t stop you from making money, right? That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? You don’t care how many women I have, or if I love you. In your eyes, I’m just worthless. But do you know what I thought of you when you were so high and mighty, humiliating Serena? You’re such trash. Kissing up to big shots, then flexing on regular people.” The ‘humiliation’ he mentioned must have been at that last reunion. I hadn’t wanted to go, honestly. I knew it’d be awkward around Caleb’s college friends; I was older, and we didn’t have much in common. But Caleb kept whining, saying he’d lose face if I didn’t show up. I’d fallen into the habit of indulging him. So I went. I brought gifts for everyone. Most people were polite; they knew Caleb and I worked in a sensitive industry and avoided touchy subjects. Only Serena. She kept labeling me an ‘influencer,’ asking about industry rumors. She even joked, asking if Caleb and I were really just a ‘contract couple,’ as netizens speculated, and if our public displays of affection were all just an act. That’s when I sensed her true intentions weren’t pure. So, I asked her, “Are you jealous of me?” My voice was a little too loud, making her embarrassed. Her eyes reddened, on the verge of tears, looking utterly innocent. “I’m just worried you’re using Caleb. He’s such a simple boy; he doesn’t belong in such a complicated industry.” “Oh, if you keep being so ‘concerned’ about him, you’ll just end up being the other woman. Hope you can stay ‘simple’ yourself.” After that, she just drank in silence, wiping away tears now and then, drawing attention and sympathy from many. Later, she got drunk and, quite predictably, put on a show of drunken distress in front of everyone, spilling her guts about her feelings for him. I didn’t care what others thought of me, but now I know that Caleb, between Serena and me, never stood by me, no matter who was right or wrong. Maybe he even agreed with Serena, thinking I was just using him. And that Serena truly cared for him. How could he forget? How did he, at twenty-two, achieve so much, far surpassing his peers? It was because of me. My humbling myself before powerful industry players, kissing up to them – wasn’t he the one benefiting? Ah, I get it now. He wanted me to feel guilty about Serena because he thought I ruined his chance to be with her. I knelt in front of him, tracing his profile with my finger, trying to sound understanding. “You silly boy, how could you be worthless? You still have this face. Only when you’re old and ugly will you truly be worthless.” **7** When we usually didn’t fight, but once we started, it was like a floodgate opening, raging out of control. All the old scores, big and small, came pouring out. There was no affection left, only deep-seated animosity. Because we knew each other so well, every word hit exactly where it hurt, wounding a thousand enemies, even if it meant eight hundred self-inflicted wounds. We didn’t care. Eventually, words weren’t enough, and we started to physically fight. I threw the first punch. The apartment, already a wreck from yesterday, now looked like a war zone. We were like trapped beasts, searching for an escape by hurting each other. I was at my breaking point; he was overwhelmed. We fought for what felt like an eternity, until Serena’s memorial photo crashed to the floor amidst the chaos. That’s when we both instinctively stopped. But in the end, he never truly hit me hard. I looked at his face, scratched with several bloody marks, and sneered, “Caleb, you really are pathetic now.” He roughly wiped the blood from his mouth, gritting his teeth. “You’re a complete lunatic.” Yes, I was. With my life counting down, I finally allowed myself to be truly reckless in this relationship. Thinking of this, I felt both triumphant and deeply sad. “There’s even more craziness to come. Tomorrow, I’m announcing our breakup on our couple’s account, and I’m spilling all the disgusting things you’ve done.” “You can’t scare me. You love money so much, you’d never give that up.” He always said I loved money, which was something I never understood. Is loving money wrong? Is it wrong to seize opportunities and work hard for the life you want? “Believe it or not, just get out now.” **8** After Caleb stormed out, silence returned to the apartment. I stared at Serena’s photo on the floor, trying to recall when exactly so much resentment had built up between Caleb and me. So much that in the heat of the moment, we’d say such vicious things to each other. We had clearly loved each other once. He resented my shrewdness and worldliness, but I never intended to use it to hurt him. He resented that I always negated him, but my denials were out of fear that he’d get lost in the hollow glow of internet fame. How many things did I do that I thought were right, but were actually completely wrong? Or did we both become unrecognizable on our journey chasing wealth, without even realizing it? Too many complex thoughts flooded my mind, making my head ache as if it would explode. I tried desperately to endure, but the despair rushing in from all sides magnified every bit of pain infinitely. I could only hurt myself to fight fire with fire. My arm was bitten raw and bleeding, yet I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. Later, all my emotions and energy were drained. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I lay numbly on the floor, unable to move, next to Serena’s photo. The entire night passed like this. At nine in the morning, when the sunlight finally touched me, I was roused. I got up, opened my laptop, and slowly began typing out my tell-all about Caleb’s cheating. The moment I hit ‘post,’ my heart ached as if a giant hand was squeezing it repeatedly. Four years. Every little moment documented on that account, garnering countless blessings and envy. Yet, it ended so miserably. What a regret. How unexpected. I casually clicked on our pinned video. It was three years ago, a clip I secretly filmed when Caleb was a freshman. He was asleep at his desk, the afternoon sun warming his profile. His skin was flawless, his breathing soft and even, his hair fluffy and soft, occasionally stirred by the breeze. He looked so clean and harmless. I quickly leaned down and kissed his cheek, then looked proudly at the camera. Behind me, he was secretly smiling, his face and neck flushing crimson in just a few seconds. That kind of shyness and joy, pouring from the depths of his soul, was more sincere and moving than any declaration of love. Even though the plot was simple, it was loved by so many people at the time. They were even more certain than I was: Caleb truly loved me. To this day, those netizens are still following us. What a shame. I let them down. Eighteen-year-old Caleb loved me, but time had twisted that love. We had both changed. **9** Caleb was too young, sharp and foolish. Early success fueled his arrogance, and praise bloated him beyond all reason. He simply didn’t grasp that dreams have an end, and life is unpredictable. My foresight and caution only irritated him, even disgusted him. So, when a Serena appeared, full of worship and tenderness for him, he naturally couldn’t resist the temptation, unable to control himself. Understanding these previously overlooked truths brought me a strange sense of relief, even though the process was agonizing, making me feel utterly worthless. Chloe, my assistant, asked if announcing the breakup this way was too reckless. She worried that if Caleb retaliated with slander, it would be a very ugly public fight. I looked at her and smiled gently. “When you mess up, you have to face the consequences. If he wants to make a scene, let him. He’ll have to clean up his own mess in the end. As long as he’s not afraid.” Chloe gasped. “Anya, this could seriously damage his career. Are you really not going to protect him anymore? I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for him, I just need to know if we should go easy on him later.” Actually, I always wanted to protect Caleb’s innocence and goodness. I loved that sunny quality about him. But I didn’t realize I was hindering his growth. Now, I’m giving him all the hard knocks society owes him, all at once. For him, it’s not a bad thing. “Find a lawyer. Sue him. He’s damaged the company’s reputation. Kick him out. The sooner, the better.” If we had parted amicably, I wouldn’t have treated him badly. He’d been with me since he was eighteen. I enjoyed his best years, his vibrant energy. He deserved a hefty breakup fee. But now… it was just too ugly. **10** When I got back from the office, Caleb was squatting in the corner by the door, waiting for me. He had a key, but I’d changed the lock, so he couldn’t get in. That’s why he looked so pathetic. Made by the internet, ruined by the internet. Three days after our breakup, his reputation online was in tatters. I walked over and nudged him with my foot. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. The injuries on his face hadn’t healed yet, covered in brown scabs. After a few seconds of silent staring, he spoke, his voice hoarse, “Are you trying to destroy both of us?” I shook my head. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I’ll be the one to go, but the net will be just fine.” Tears welled in his eyes, but he still put on a tough front. “Fine, you’re ruthless. I never wanted to be in this industry anyway. It’s so damn dirty.” Yes, but no matter how dirty it was, I always did my best to protect him. When powerful industry players tried to take advantage of him, I didn’t hesitate to break contracts and pay penalties to preserve his dignity. When competitors slandered him, I’d pull all-nighters managing comments and doing PR, while finding ways to keep him offline. This industry is tough. He might have found it hard, but he never had it as hard as I did. What’s more, his rewards far outstripped his efforts, so much so that he had no idea what real hardship or the ruthlessness of the world truly meant. I couldn’t help but sigh. “Caleb, what you did was pretty dirty too. Remember this lesson for the future.” He staggered to his feet, gripped my shoulders, and leaned down, forcing me to look him in the eye. He said each word slowly, deliberately, “Am I as dirty as you? Do you dare say you never sold yourself for resources?” I’m dying, and I still have to argue about this with him. It’s so annoying. “Fine, it’s all my fault. I wasn’t good enough for you. If I had broken up with you sooner, you wouldn’t have had to sneak around with Serena, and maybe she wouldn’t have died. You two could have grown old together, stayed true, and had a house full of kids.” I said what he wanted to hear, but it only made him angrier. He asked, his voice choked with tears, “Did you ever love me?” What a failure. Four years of intimacy, and in the end, he doubted even that. “Kid,” I forced out a fake commercial smile, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “I love money. How could it be you?” He froze for a few seconds, then bolted, as if something terrifying was chasing him. I watched the direction he disappeared into, lost in thought for a long time.

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It was the fifth year of dating Serena Walsh, and she finally said yes to my proposal. But on the day of our engagement party, she just vanished. Ghosted everyone. No calls, no texts. I waited for her all night, only to wake up to a trending post: a hot topic about her attending an art gala with her childhood friend. Looking at their intimate photo, and the hickey on Serena’s neck, I laughed. Laughed at how utterly blind she was, not even seeing the real deal, the true master, right beside her for five whole years! “Explain this.” I shoved my phone, showing the trending headlines in bold red, right in front of Serena. I just wanted an explanation. But she just frowned slightly, her voice laced with impatience. “What’s there to explain? It’s just work.” Her casual indifference hit me like a physical blow, twisting in my chest. “So? You can blow off our engagement party for work with Jasper Reed?” Serena rubbed her temples, a headache clearly brewing. “Julian Vance, I don’t have time for this idle chatter. We can always reschedule the engagement party. But a work opportunity like this won’t come again!” She stood up, heading towards the bedroom. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “What about the hickey on your neck? Is that ‘work’ too?!” Her steps faltered. Then she spun around, her brow furrowed, a furious edge to her voice. “What insane thing are you imagining now? Are you really going to be jealous of Jasper again? Can you stop being so petty? We’re just friends! Don’t let your own twisted mind taint everything!” “If there was anything really going on between us, would I even be with you? You’re just too sensitive.” A massive weight settled in my chest, making my heart ache. I pressed down on the discomfort, letting out a scoff. “You wish something was going on with him, but can your sickly childhood friend even *perform*?” *Smack!* Serena’s palm landed hard across my face. She was trembling, like an enraged panther. Her movement was so fierce that an invitation slipped from her pocket. It read: *“Mr. Julian Vance and Ms. Serena Walsh are cordially invited to the Starlight Art Gala.”* It was always like this. Every dual invitation she ever received, she never took me. She’d always say, “You’re a painter, you just focus on your art behind the scenes. I’ll handle all the socializing.” That’s why she’d never once publicly attended an event with me. Just like she’d never publicly acknowledged me as her boyfriend. Never once said she loved me. “Julian Vance, you disappoint me so much.” “If you’re sick, go see a therapist. Stop imagining things about Jasper and me all day. You know Jasper’s not well, and you still say such vicious things! Look at yourself. Who are you to comment on him? I get that you, a has-been painter, are jealous of a genius artist, but don’t go too far!” Every word was a blade, stabbing directly at my heart. And her look of disgust was like salt poured onto my bleeding wounds, a tearing, agonizing pain. Serena grabbed her bag, walking out without a shred of hesitation. “I’m not coming home tonight. Tomorrow I’m accompanying Jasper to the gala.” Words of pleading hung on my tongue, but I couldn’t force them out. In the past, whenever she got mad, I’d immediately drop my pride to soothe her, to win her over. She’d just mention needing paintings for an exhibition, and I’d paint day and night. All just to make sure her exhibition had works she could be proud of. It led to severe arthritis, making it hard for me to even hold a brush on rainy days. But today, I was suddenly tired. So tired I couldn’t even utter a single word to keep her. With the bright red slap mark stinging my cheek, I forced a smile. “Serena Walsh, let’s break up.” “Don’t keep throwing around ‘break up’ every time something happens.” She walked out the door without hesitation, her cold voice drifting back. “We’re not kids anymore. You’re making such a scene over something so trivial. Julian Vance, you weren’t like this before. You’ve changed.”

Watching Serena’s figure recede and blur into the distance, I was suddenly reminded of how we first met. It was love at first sight for me with Serena. That day, she burst into my world, clutching an oil painting. She was like a little sun, orbiting around me, begging me again and again to help her paint. She always loved tugging on my arm, swaying playfully. “Julian Vance is going to be a great painter!” “And I’ll become the best curator, put on the biggest exhibitions for you, and make the whole world know your name!” But later, she never put on a single exhibition for me, nor did she ever make anyone know my name. My phone buzzed. I casually tapped it open. It was an invitation from Jasper Reed. *“Jasper Reed – The Maestro’s Exclusive Exhibition invites you to attend.”* But my gaze was fixed on the host’s name below: Serena Walsh. *“Serena just insisted on holding an exhibition to welcome me back to the country. I could never say no to her, so I finally agreed. It’s in three days. Hope you can make it, don’t just keep cooping yourself up at home.”* Every line reeked of him flaunting his “childhood friend” status. As if he and Serena were destined, a match made in heaven. And I, Julian Vance, was nothing but a third wheel who took advantage while he was abroad recuperating. Just Serena’s little diversion when she was bored. Five years together, and she’d never hosted a single exhibition for me, yet she actively insisted on hosting one for Jasper. The very thing I’d desperately pursued was effortlessly within someone else’s grasp. Ha, utterly ridiculous. I curled my lips, my fingers moving to type a reply. *“Will be there on time.”* He claims to be The Maestro, huh? I’d like to see how he manages to exhibit *my* masterpieces. My gaze dropped further. A message from my online friend, Taylor. *“Got any new art recently? Dying to see some master works!”* These past few years, dating Serena, most of my energy went into managing her studio. I’d barely touch a brush every few months, sometimes half a year. Paintings were a rarity, just two or three a year, pitifully few. Taylor was someone I met online when I posted some sketches. We’d talked for three years. When I was stuck at home, I’d often chat with him, sharing my artwork. My troubled mood eased, if only for a moment. Just then, the studio phone rang. I slid to answer. “Mr. Vance, Ms. Walsh wants you to come to the studio tomorrow and clear out your office.” A mix of annoyance and confusion drove me to ask, “Why?” The person on the other end paused for a few seconds. “Ms. Walsh said she needs to clear out your office to make it Jasper Reed’s studio.”

When I arrived at the studio, Serena’s assistant was carrying out my belongings, trip after trip. Everyone looked grim, whispering. “Why’s he here? I hate it when freeloaders show up!” “Seriously, we’re swamped, and now we have to cater to him!” “Jasper is so much better. His paintings are beautiful, and he’s so kind. I think he and Ms. Walsh are a perfect match!” I listened to all of it expressionlessly, but only I knew the ache in my chest. All those nights I spent working overtime with them, and in their eyes, I was just a freeloader, a difficult boss! The assistant shot them a look, and everyone instantly fell silent. I strode towards Serena’s office, determined to get an explanation. But the assistant blocked my way, looking conflicted. “Mr. Vance, Jasper Reed is in Ms. Walsh’s office, creating. You’ll disturb them if you go in now.” I pushed past the assistant, heading straight for Serena’s office door. My hand gripped the doorknob, and then familiar voices filtered through. “Serena, I’m out of inspiration lately. Why don’t you model for me?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Serena’s hesitant gaze, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as she pondered. Jasper added fuel to the fire. “You’ve always been my muse. If you model, I know I can paint another masterpiece that will astound the world!” She no longer hesitated. As my pupils dilated, Serena slowly began to shed her clothes. She sat naked before Jasper Reed, not a stitch on. She was modeling nude! My hand on the doorknob trembled uncontrollably. It trembled so much I didn’t even have the courage to push the door open. “After all these years, Serena, you’ve become distant from me. Did you get a boyfriend and just forget about me?” At his words, panic instantly flashed across her face. She quickly explained, “How could I? I always remembered you, Jasper. Being with Julian Vance was just because he was so much like you, and also a painter!” My body reacted before my mind. A wave of physical nausea washed over me. I swallowed the bitter truth with difficulty, like a wooden puppet, stiffly dropping my hand from the doorknob. I thought, even if our ending wasn’t ideal, at least we had truly loved each other. But reality mocked my naiveté, delivering a harsh slap to my face. Serena had always seen me as Jasper Reed’s substitute! The truth was too sudden, too cruel. I stood frozen by the door for a long time, forcing myself to calm down. The moment I let go of that doorknob, I let go of you, Serena. On the taxi ride home, I accepted the long-standing invitation from a curating studio. I granted them full authority to manage The Master’s artwork. When they asked what my demands were, I took a deep breath. “I want the exhibition to be held in two days.” “And explicitly state that it’s an exclusive exhibition of The Master’s works, and that The Master will be personally present to give a talk.” Two days from now was also Jasper Reed’s exhibition. He wants to be The Master? Fine. Let’s put on a real vs. fake exhibition and let everyone decide! That night, I met with the studio’s curator, discussing everything at length. When I got home, Serena, who I thought was out, was already seated on the sofa. The moment I walked in, I was met with her furious questions. “Where have you been messing around again, you didn’t even make dinner!” “Why aren’t you speaking? Are you mute?” She grew increasingly impatient, standing up and walking over to me. Her face hardened, and she asked with a cold frown, “Why do you smell of another woman’s perfume?!” It must have rubbed off when I was discussing things with the curator. But Serena’s behavior was utterly ridiculous. A mere perfume scent, and she’s furious, when she’s been far worse than me! “What, you’re allowed to be a nude model for someone else, but I can’t even get close to another woman? Serena Walsh, how can you be so hypocritical!” Her face visibly contorted, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “So what? That was work! Sacrificing for art! Don’t think such dirty thoughts!” “Don’t you trust me?” Looking at her eyes, filled with a hidden guilt, avoiding my gaze, I nodded. My voice was firm. “No, I don’t trust you.” “When I said we were breaking up, I wasn’t kidding.”

Without a word to Serena, I quickly moved out. After renting a new art studio, I began preparing works for the exhibition. I had left in such a hurry that I forgot many things. Even the last painting my mentor left me before he passed away was still at the studio. I planned to use it as the centerpiece of the exhibition. When I arrived at Serena’s studio, I searched for a long time but couldn’t find the painting. As I stood there, at a loss, a male voice from nearby caught my attention. “Are you looking for this?” I turned towards the voice. Jasper Reed was leaning lazily against the wall, holding my mentor’s painting, a provocative smile on his face. “Trash painted by a forgotten art lunatic—only someone like you would treasure it.” “Oh… I forgot. You haven’t achieved much in all these years, have you? Just living off Serena’s money.” “No wonder you like this painting so much. Trash belongs with trash!” Rage flared within me, leaving no room for thought. My fist flew out before I could stop it. One punch landed squarely on Jasper’s mouth, and blood instantly trickled down. He didn’t resist at all, allowing my violence, even fiercely protecting the painting beneath him. “What are you doing?” A surprised female voice from behind halted my action. The next second, Serena sprinted over and delivered a swift slap across my face. “Julian Vance, are you crazy?!” She used every ounce of her strength, and my cheek instantly swelled up. Serena cradled Jasper’s face with concern, examining it as if it were precious. “Does it hurt? Julian Vance is a maniac, why would you even talk to him?” Jasper clutched his right hand tightly, squeezing out a few tears. “Serena… my hand hurts so much.” My fists clenched instantly. When I hit him, I hadn’t even touched his right hand; I’d only aimed for his face. Jasper was clearly trying to set me up! “Serena, I didn’t touch his hand.” But she wouldn’t listen. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she screamed like a madwoman. “Julian Vance, I can’t believe how vicious you’ve become! He’s a painter, his hand is his life, do you know that?! And now you’re full of lies! I’m telling you, if anything happens to Jasper’s hand, I’ll break yours to pay for it!” My heart froze for a moment, and I stood there stunned. In the past, if my hand even got a scratch, Serena would hold it and blow on it for ages, so tenderly. She’d even drag me to the hospital for a check-up if it was almost healed. But now, for another man, she wanted to break my hand. Anger and resentment surged through my mind, driving me to speak. “He stole my mentor’s painting!” Serena waved a dismissive hand, completely unconcerned. “So what! It’s just a broken old painting. If he took it, he took it. He could even tear it up if he thought it was ugly, it wouldn’t matter!” “It’s just a painting, why are you being so petty?” With that, Serena gave me a hard shove. I lost my balance and fell backward into the studio. The face that had once been so gentle and familiar for years was now hideous. She gritted her teeth and spat out a final word, “Since you love that painting so much, then stay with it.” “You deserve to reflect on your mistakes.” *Bang!* The door slammed shut mercilessly. Along with it, my mentor’s painting was tossed inside, like garbage. Just like our five years of shared affection, it was all trash. I gave a self-mocking smile, enduring the pain in my body, and slowly stood up, leaning on the wall. Serena had locked the door. I started searching the room for a spare key. I didn’t find a key, but I did see the paintings Jasper Reed was supposed to exhibit. I glanced casually, but then I noticed something startling: his paintings were 80% similar to mine! In fact, all of them looked like direct copies of my work. But he had never seen the paintings I created as The Master, had he?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298436”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf