Category: English

After my confession to my childhood friend failed, I started an online romance. Every day, I flirted with my online boyfriend by sending faceless body pictures and calling him “hubby.” One night, I was flirting with him again. My online boyfriend replied instantly: [I can’t take it anymore. I want to f–k you right now.] The next second, there was a frantic knocking at my door. As soon as I opened it, my childhood friend stood there. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me. 1 It was 3:00 AM, and I couldn’t sleep… Time to flirt with my online boyfriend. I got out of bed, took off my pajamas, and put on the new belly chain I just bought. In the mirror, my waist curved inward, forming a captivating silhouette. The silver chain hung low on my hips, its metallic gleam dancing against my pale skin. I took a picture in the mirror, cropped out my face, and sent it to my online boyfriend. [Hubby~ Look at this pretty thing I got.] He replied almost instantly. [Trying to seduce me in the middle of the night again?] I licked my lips and typed back with a wicked smile. [I’ll help you touch it] He immediately started a video call. Camera off. I kept my camera off my face too, pointing the lens directly at my waist. … An hour later, the call ended. I lay in bed, savoring the moment. It all started after high school graduation, when I confessed to my childhood best friend, Ethan Hayes. He rejected me, saying he was straight and only saw me as a friend. I was heartbroken, so I downloaded a multiplayer game to distract myself. But my skills were terrible, and my teammates constantly yelled at me over the mic. I wasn’t about to take it, so I yelled right back, conveniently venting all the frustration I had from Ethan’s rejection. After I finished screaming at them, the quiet carry on our team, username “G”, sent me a private message: “I’ll carry you.” After playing together for a while, I slowly became interested in him. Every day in the game, I’d constantly praise him: “Wow, you’re amazing!” Eventually, I started pestering him for his Instagram or Snapchat. After he rejected me for the fourth time, I stopped bothering him and started finding other guys to carry me in games. That made him panic, and he finally gave me his snap. But he must have given me a brand-new alt account, because there was absolutely nothing on it. At first, G was incredibly cold to me. If I didn’t text him, he would never initiate a conversation. And whenever we did talk, it was always me asking a question and him giving a one-word answer. I was about ready to give up on him. Until one night, I was wide awake and bored. A wicked idea flashed through my mind. Out of nowhere, I sent him a faceless picture of my body. He replied almost instantly, sending three question marks. The corners of my mouth curled up. [Do you like it?] The screen showed “Typing…” for a long time. But after waiting forever, he still hadn’t replied. I raised an eyebrow. [If you don’t answer, that means you don’t like it.] [Whatever. Since you don’t like it, I’ll just send it to someone else.] He panicked. [I like it.] [Don’t you dare send it to anyone else.] I felt like I had finally figured out how to handle him. I gave a smug little head bob. 2 Under my guidance, G started initiating conversations with me every single day. He called me “baby” constantly and learned how to talk dirty. Every now and then, he’d send me gym selfies. Even though he didn’t show his face, my intuition told me he was definitely handsome. Not only that, but he was incredibly generous. He frequently sent me money or bought me in-game gifts. Even though my family was well-off, my parents believed kids shouldn’t be spoiled with cash, so they didn’t give me any allowance and made me earn my own money. G was simply the perfect online boyfriend! Then, today happened. The chef was busy in the kitchen. Seeing him prepare a massive feast, I quickly asked my mom: “Are we having guests?” My mom, cracking sunflower seeds, replied casually: “Your dad brought home a box of fresh crabs yesterday, so I invited Ethan and his mom over for dinner.” I froze slightly. Even though Ethan’s house was literally right next door to ours, I had been avoiding him ever since he rejected my confession. Even when mutual friends invited us both out, if Ethan was going, I wouldn’t go. I hadn’t seen Ethan in a whole month. Just then, the doorbell rang. I went to open it. The moment the door opened, Ethan’s handsome, refined face appeared right in front of me. I instinctively took a step back, putting distance between us. Mrs. Hayes looked at me for a moment, then at Ethan. “What is going on with you two?” “Weren’t you guys super close before?” Neither of us said a word. At the dinner table. Ethan sat next to me, but I deliberately scooted over, putting as much space between us as possible. It felt like there was an entire galaxy separating us. Ethan frowned at me, but I chose to ignore him. During the meal, Ethan put a piece of ribs on my plate. Growing up together, he was used to taking care of me. It was exactly because of things like this that I mistakenly thought he liked me. Turns out, I was just delusional. Right in front of him, I picked up the rib and fed it to our dog, Buster. He froze, a flash of anger appearing in his dark eyes. 3 After dinner, I sat on the living room sofa, pulled out my phone, and started texting G. [Just finished dinner, but I’m still so hungry.] G replied instantly. [What else do you want to eat? I’ll order delivery for you.] I smirked and typed back. [I want to eat you.] Beside me, Ethan suddenly spat out the water he had just taken a sip of. I looked at him in confusion. He hurriedly grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth, shooting me a very strange look. Me: “?” Psycho. What did I even do to him? I ignored him and went back to chatting with G. [Honestly, I kind of want an orange right now.] [But I hate peeling oranges. It gets my hands sticky and it’s so annoying.] In the past, Ethan was always the one who peeled them for me. I brought up meeting in person again. [When are we finally going to meet in person?] [I really want to see you so badly.] [If we meet, will you peel oranges for me?] The chat screen showed “Typing…” again. But he took forever to reply. Just as I expected. Every time I brought up meeting, G would hesitate. I waited a bit longer. He sent me a transfer for $500 first. Then he replied. [Baby, let’s talk about this later, okay?] I didn’t push it. I figured I might be rushing things. After all, we had only known each other for less than a month. Take it slow. Ethan put his phone down, reached out, and grabbed an orange, starting to peel it. His fingers were pale and slender. He looked good even just peeling an orange. I was mesmerized for a second. It wasn’t until he handed the peeled orange to me that I snapped out of it. But I didn’t take it. I rejected it coldly. “I don’t eat oranges peeled by you.” An emotion I couldn’t decipher flashed through Ethan’s eyes. “I already peeled it for you. Just eat it.” My temper flared instantly. Who gave him the right to order me around? I angrily swatted his hand away. The orange fell to the floor. 4 The atmosphere between us dropped to freezing point. I got up and went straight to my room. In my room, I vented to G. [My childhood friend is so annoying.] [He’s a clueless, boundary-less jerk.] [He rejected my confession, but now he’s acting all fake and trying to be nice to me.] After sending that, I got worried G might get jealous, so I added: [Me liking him is totally in the past. I don’t like him at all anymore.] [Since I met you, you’re the only one in my heart.] [Love you~] G didn’t reply. Suddenly, Ethan pushed my door open and walked in. His face was dark: “Chloe, can you please stop acting like this?” Acting like what? Rejecting the orange he peeled? I looked up at him and said seriously, “Ethan, you need to stop acting like this!” “I have a boyfriend now. Please keep your distance from me.” “Otherwise, my boyfriend will get jealous.” Ethan let out a bitter laugh. But he seemed to think of something, swallowed whatever he was about to say, turned around, and left. I locked my door, lay on my bed, and checked to see if G had replied. After a long time, G finally answered. [Mhm.] Just “Mhm”? He’s brushing me off with one word? I frowned and typed back angrily. [Your tone is so cold. Do you not want to talk to me?] [Fine, I’ll go find someone else to talk to.] He immediately panicked. [No.] [Baby, don’t be mad.] [It’s my fault, okay?] He sent me five consecutive $100 transfers. [Are you still mad, baby?] I pouted. [Don’t you think my childhood friend has a screw loose?] [I hate him so much.] He was silent for a moment. [Yeah, he has a screw loose. Don’t be mad at him, baby.] I was satisfied and went back to oversharing with G. [I just laid all my cards on the table with my friend. I told him I have a boyfriend and told him to stay away from me…] 5 It was the weekend. Our friend Matt invited me to a karaoke place to hang out. Since he was a mutual friend of both me and Ethan, I asked: “Is Ethan going? If he’s going, I’m not.” Only after Matt assured me Ethan wasn’t coming did I agree to go. But when I got to the karaoke room, Ethan was sitting right there on the sofa. I glared at Matt. He definitely set this up! Matt played dumb and dragged me inside. If I insisted on leaving now, it would just make me look petty. Having no other choice, I sat as far away from Ethan as possible, pulled out my phone, and started chatting with G. [I miss you. Send me some abs pics, I want to see.] Ethan, who was sitting far away, glanced down at his phone, then looked up and stared at me meaningfully. I felt so confused. What are you looking at?! But I didn’t want to engage with him, so I went back to harassing G. [Are you there?] [Why aren’t you replying?] [Do you not love me anymore?] [Reply to me now.] G replied. [Baby, I’m out at a party with friends right now.] [I’ll take some for you when I get home.] I refused. [No, I want to see them right now.] [You can just go to the bathroom and take a pic!] [Hurry up, I wanna see.] [Hubby~ please.] I pulled out my ultimate weapon. [If you don’t take one for me, I’ll go find someone else to take one for me.] Sure enough, G replied instantly. [Don’t you dare!] [I’m going to take one for you right now.] I smiled in satisfaction. Ethan suddenly stood up. He walked past me and headed toward the bathroom. Not long after, a fresh picture of some very nice abs came through. Sharply defined abs—you could tell he worked out constantly. I admired them for a while, then started teasing him. [I want to touch your abs.] [I want to lick your abs.] [I want to…] Just then, a friend sitting nearby suddenly spoke up. “Hey Ethan, who are you texting?” “You’re blushing so hard.” “Is it a girlfriend?” I looked up and realized Ethan had returned at some point. He frantically locked his phone screen and immediately denied it: “Just a normal friend.” But his bright red earlobes completely exposed him. I had never seen Ethan look like this before. Did he actually get a girlfriend? Not my business anyway. I lowered my head and went back to teasing G. 6 At the karaoke place, someone suggested playing a game. Truth or Dare. My luck was terrible; I kept losing. But I always chose Truth. Eventually, everyone thought Truth was too boring. They demanded I had to choose Dare. When I lost yet again from rolling the dice, I drew a Dare card. My luck was absolute trash. The card said I had to hug someone for thirty seconds. Everyone unanimously assumed I would choose Ethan, since we were the closest. They started cheering and hyping up me and Ethan. Ethan sat in his seat, his face expressionless, watching me quietly while spinning his phone in his right hand. But my eyes swept past Ethan and landed on Matt, who was sitting next to him. “Matt, I choose you.” Ethan stopped spinning his phone. His face visibly darkened. Matt didn’t dare move. I called his name again. “Hurry up!” Matt looked at me, then looked at Ethan. Finally, he chugged an entire beer himself. “I’ll take the penalty drink for Chloe. Skip, skip!” Ethan glanced at me, stood up, and left. I felt like the vibe was dead anyway, so I left early too. When I got home, I continued chatting with G. [I’m home.] [Is your party over yet?] [Do you want to play a game together tonight?] G replied. [Can we play tomorrow?] I sensed that G was in a bad mood and asked, [What’s wrong?] [Who made you mad?] G was silent for a moment. [I’m fine.] 7 On my birthday, G was the very first person to wish me a happy birthday. In the past, that person was always Ethan. Thinking about that made my chest feel a little tight, but the feeling passed quickly. I invited a lot of friends, but I specifically didn’t invite Ethan. Halfway through my birthday party, I took out my phone to message G. [I really wish you could be here for my birthday party.] [The cake you ordered for me is so delicious.] [But I don’t dare eat too much, I’m afraid of gaining weight.] G replied instantly. [Baby, you’re not fat. Eat as much as you want.] The doorbell rang. I happily went to open the door, only to see Ethan standing there. My smile vanished instantly. “I didn’t invite you.” Ethan completely ignored what I said and handed me a gift. “Your birthday present.” I didn’t take it. Ethan didn’t care; he just walked right in holding the gift. By the time I walked over to him, he was already sitting on the sofa, looking up at me. “Did you forget to invite me?” “Don’t be so careless next time.” Me: “?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. I turned and walked away. Finding a quiet corner, I started texting G again. [My childhood friend just showed up.] [He’s so annoying. Just seeing him ruined my mood.] G replied. [Baby, why do you hate him so much?] [He just wanted to come celebrate your birthday.] I replied immediately. [But I don’t want to see him.] Ethan’s back looked lonely. He was shrouded in shadow, looking incredibly depressed. After the party ended and all my friends had left, Ethan was still there. He sat on the sofa, his eyes following me as I moved around. I looked at him. “Are you still not leaving?” He looked at me. “You used to love the gifts I gave you. Aren’t you even going to open it?” I said impatiently, “When are you leaving?” “Chloe, I…” He hesitated, looking at me with such a lonely expression. I frowned. “If you’re not going to leave, fine. I don’t care. I’m going upstairs to chat with my boyfriend.” Staring at my back as I walked upstairs, Ethan couldn’t look away for a long time. It wasn’t until I completely disappeared from his sight that a wave of deep regret washed over him. 8 Mrs. Hayes invited my family to vacation at their beach house. My mom asked if I wanted to go. Even though I really wanted to go, I didn’t want to see Ethan. I lied and said I had other plans and declined. Hearing my refusal, Mrs. Hayes said regretfully, “Our Ethan can’t make it this year either because he has things to do. I really miss the times our families used to spend summer vacations together. With neither of you kids coming, it won’t be lively at all.” When I heard Ethan wasn’t going, I quickly said, “Mrs. Hayes, I’ll go!” Sun, sand, and the ocean—here I come! Before leaving, I sent G a message. [Hehe, I’m going to the beach.] [The new swimsuit I bought is super cute~] [I’ll take pictures for you later.] At the beach. I changed into my swimsuit and lay on a beach chair, trying to apply sunscreen to myself. But it’s impossible to reach your own back. While I was struggling to apply it, a hand took the sunscreen from me and started rubbing it on my back. I turned around in surprise and saw it was Ethan. I was shocked: “Why are you here?” “Didn’t you say you had things to do?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Someone was constantly tempting me to come. So I pushed my other plans.” I wasn’t listening to him. Because my attention was drawn to something else. Ethan was applying the sunscreen very meticulously. Every time his hand glided over my skin, a tingling sensation swept through my entire body. When his hand reached my waist, I distinctly felt him apply more pressure. That strange sensation made my mind wander. I snapped back to reality, immediately pushed Ethan away, and snatched the sunscreen back. “I don’t need your help!” He looked at me, a very faint smile playing on his lips. That afternoon, I lay on my beach chair, and Ethan lay on the chair right next to mine. Since this was technically his family’s property, I couldn’t exactly kick him out. But I didn’t talk to him. I just kept my head down, chatting with G. First, I sent G a few pictures of the beach. [It’s pretty here, right?] G replied instantly. [Pretty.] The corners of my mouth curled up. [Wait for me.] I glanced back at Ethan. He was also looking down at his phone. Seeing me look at him, he looked up and smiled. I rolled my eyes, quietly walked further away, took out my phone, and started taking selfies. I originally wanted to include my face, but to keep a little mystery for the day we finally met in person, I only took pictures of my lips. I gently bit my full, rosy lower lip. After sending the photo to G, I asked him: [Is the ocean prettier, or am I prettier?] [You.] I walked back to my beach chair, satisfied. I was a little thirsty, so I grabbed a bottle of water next to me and tilted my head back, drinking it in big gulps. I didn’t notice Ethan next to me. His gaze moved down, lingering on my lips, and he swallowed hard. 9 I fell asleep on the beach chair. I’ve always been a deep sleeper. I slept all the way until the sun went down. When I woke up, my lips felt a little swollen and sore. I reached up and touched them. They felt a bit swollen. Just then, Ethan stood up. “Let’s go. Time to go back and eat.” I didn’t think much of it and got up to head back to the villa. When we walked into the living room, Mrs. Hayes came over. “Chloe, why are your lips swollen?” As Mrs. Hayes spoke, she narrowed her eyes and glanced at Ethan standing behind me. Ethan: “I’m going upstairs to change.” I touched my lips again and said, “I might just be having an allergic reaction. I had spicy hotpot last night.” After dinner, Mrs. Hayes pulled me aside to chat for a bit. Then I went upstairs to rest. My room was right next to Ethan’s. In my room, I lay on the bed for a while, then went to the bathroom to take a shower. I suddenly remembered I still hadn’t sent G a picture of me in my swimsuit. I pulled a swimsuit out of my suitcase. It was one I’d never actually wear outside; I bought it specifically to show G. In the bathroom, after I took the picture in the mirror, I sent it straight to G. But before G could reply, there was a sudden knock on my door. I panicked, quickly took off the swimsuit, threw on some pajamas, and went to open the door. When I opened it, Ethan was standing there. He seemed to be in a hurry. “The bathroom in my room is broken. I need to use yours.” I stepped aside to let him in. He went straight to the bathroom. I sat on the bed and waited. He was in there for half an hour. I grew impatient and yelled toward the bathroom, “Did you fall into the toilet?!” Ethan’s voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he was desperately trying to suppress something. “I need to wait a little longer.” Another half hour passed. It suddenly hit me—my swimsuit was still hanging in the bathroom! If he saw it… My face instantly turned bright red. I knocked on the door. “Ethan! Are you done yet?!” Ethan opened the door. His cheeks were a little flushed. He gave me a look and quickly walked away. I rushed inside. The swimsuit I had hung up was gone! I looked everywhere but couldn’t find it. A thought crossed my mind. I knocked on Ethan’s door. Afraid Mrs. Hayes or my mom would hear, I lowered my voice. “Ethan! Did you steal my swimsuit?!”

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In the spring of 2016, my little sister went missing during a school field trip, falling into an abandoned mine shaft. It took three days to find her. But here was the bizarre part: The canteen she carried was completely full of water, yet her autopsy report stated she died of severe dehydration. She had literally died of thirst. Because of her tragic and gruesome death, my parents couldn’t handle the blow. One died; the other went insane. A once-happy family was utterly destroyed. Ten years later, I became a PhD candidate in Criminal Psychology. When I returned to that abandoned mine shaft and repeatedly replayed the events of that day… I uncovered a blood-curdling truth that completely shattered everything I thought I knew. 1 April 12, 2016. A Saturday. It was my sister’s twelfth birthday. In our hometown, a child’s twelfth birthday is a major milestone. It means the child has firmly planted their feet in the world and officially entered their teenage years. But my sister met her end on the exact day she was supposed to become a teenager. I was attending college in the city back then, and I specifically took the bus home to celebrate her birthday. Coincidentally, my sister, who was in the sixth grade, had a school-organized spring field trip to Blackwood Mountain that very day. My mom initially didn’t want her to go, but my sister had been looking forward to visiting Blackwood Mountain for ages. So, the birthday dinner was pushed back to the evening. My mom prepared a windbreaker, a sun hat, a canteen of water, and some snacks for her, reminding her to come home early that afternoon. “You guys aren’t allowed to secretly eat the birthday cake! Wait for me to come back before you put the candles in!” My sister playfully ordered my mom and me, still worried we’d start without her. “Hey, Chloe, I heard there’s a really beautiful type of Ghost Orchid on Blackwood Mountain. How about I bring a few branches back to make bookmarks for you?” She sneaked a cautious glance at me, trying to butter me up. The night before, while playing a computer game, she had accidentally deleted the Organic Chemistry term paper I had worked so hard to write. Organic Chemistry was my absolute most hated and headache-inducing subject. I was currently forcing myself to rewrite the paper from scratch, so I angrily snapped back, “You said it yourself! If you don’t pick them for me, don’t even bother coming back home to see me!” In reality, I didn’t actually care about those Ghost Orchid bookmarks. I was just angry at the time and wanted to give her a hard time. Back then, none of us knew that while the Ghost Orchids of Blackwood Mountain were famously beautiful… They could only be admired from afar. 2 “She fell off the cliff because she was trying to pick those Ghost Orchids for me. I didn’t know until she died that those flowers only bloom on the steepest, most treacherous cliffs.” “For many years after that, I always wondered… if I hadn’t said that awful line, ‘If you don’t pick them, don’t come back,’ would my sister still be alive?” Ten years later, I sat across from my PhD advisor, Professor Arthur Vance, and recounted the story. Even after all these years, I still broke down in tears. “When did they find your sister?” Professor Vance pulled out a tissue and handed it to me. “Three days later.” “I remember it so clearly. It was an early morning, and the sun was shining on her shriveled, sunken face. It felt so warm.” “My mother passed out on the spot. My father had a massive heart attack.” “I was the only one left to sit there and keep her company.” The coffee maker off to the side bubbled quietly, the sound exceptionally loud in the dead silence of the office. “Honestly, finding a body after someone goes missing in the mountains is rare. It was a tragic stroke of luck that you even found her,” Professor Vance said as he stood up, poured a cup of coffee, and gently pushed the warm bone-china mug toward me. “Hundreds of people searched the mountain back then. The police, my parents, friends, relatives, my father’s former students—graduated and current—and even a lot of local volunteers rushed over to help.” “The police used her last known location as a radius. They checked surveillance cameras, canvassed the area, and interviewed every rural neighborhood within a ten-mile radius.” The moment they found the body, my mother lunged at me, tearing at my clothes, screaming in absolute despair: “You knew it was her birthday, and you still cursed her! How could you be so vicious?!” My father, who had been a high school teacher for half his life, was overcome with grief and rage. He rushed over and slapped me across the face three times, pointing a trembling finger at me while cursing: “I’ve spent my life educating people, how did I raise such a cold-blooded, selfish animal?! Why wasn’t it you who died?!” He announced right then and there that he no longer had a daughter. Facing the disgusted and judgmental stares of everyone around me, I didn’t hide, and I didn’t defend myself. I numbly endured all the beating and spitting. Because even I felt that I was the one who forced my own sister to her death. I deserved it. I deserved to die. I tried hard to swallow the burning lump in my throat and continued: “At first, everyone thought my sister’s death was an accident, until the autopsy report came out.” “Her cause of death was utterly baffling. She didn’t die of hypothermia. She wasn’t killed by wild animals or snakebites. And she definitely didn’t die from the fall.” Professor Vance, who was stirring his coffee, stopped. “Then how did she die?” “She died of thirst.” “Dying of dehydration after going missing in the wilderness is pretty common, isn’t it?” Professor Vance tapped his mug. “But… what if her canteen was completely full of water?” I stared at him, asking word by word. “Is it possible someone took her water before the accident, and then, afraid of being held responsible, quietly put it back after she died?” Professor Vance asked, looking at me. I shook my head. “The search party that found my sister’s body consisted of exactly three people: my father, one of his former students, and a search-and-rescue volunteer. Moreover, the crime scene investigators confirmed there were only three sets of footprints around her. There was no fourth person.” “What about her classmates? Teachers? How were her interpersonal relationships at school?” I tried hard to recall the situation back then. “My sister had excellent grades, a very easygoing personality, and the police interviews found no evidence of grudges, bullying, or being bullied.” “So it goes without saying there was nothing wrong with the water in the canteen, right?” I nodded. Professor Vance’s expression darkened. 3 “Did they do a full autopsy?” “Yes. I was a college sophomore at the time and had already taken a forensic anatomy course. I requested to observe the entire autopsy process. Her body exhibited classic pathological signs of fatal dehydration.” Professor Vance patted my shoulder. “That must have been incredibly hard on you.” No one knows what it feels like to watch your own flesh and blood being dissected right in front of you. Every cut felt like it was slicing into my own skin. The extreme agony numbs you to the point where you can’t even shed a single tear. “So… that’s why you switched from a forensics major to clinical medicine…” Professor Vance flipped through my resume, looking at me with deep sympathy. “Yes. I developed a severe psychological block. I could never dissect a corpse again.” “Later on, I went into clinical medicine. I researched all of the human body’s stress responses and dehydration mechanisms. Ultimately, I crossed disciplines and applied for your PhD program.” “So, you applied for my Criminal Psychology PhD program just to have me help you reconstruct this decade-old cold case?” Professor Vance looked at me, a bit incredulous. There’s a running joke in academic circles: Getting into Dr. Vance’s PhD program is harder than scaling Mount Everest. Perhaps this was the first time he had ever heard such a motive for pursuing a doctorate. “Yes. Becoming your student was so I could meet you, but more importantly, so I would earn the right to speak with you on an equal footing.” “You are a renowned criminal investigator and a leading authority in criminal psychology in this country. You’ve solved countless cold cases.” “I’m begging you to guide me in uncovering the truth. I need to know if my sister’s death was an accident or murder.” “I need to know why, when she had water, she died of thirst!” “If her death was purely a tragic accident, then I’ll let her rest in peace. But if she was murdered, I will exhaust my entire life seeking justice for her!” Even though I tried my hardest to control myself, I practically screamed those last few sentences. After my sister died, my mother fell into a deep depression and eventually passed away. My father went insane and was institutionalized. A once-happy family was ruined. In every dream I had over the past ten years, I desperately wanted to hug my sister. I wanted to ask her: Why didn’t you drink the water? I wanted to tell her that her big sister didn’t blame her for losing the Organic Chemistry paper. And that I didn’t want the Ghost Orchid bookmark at all. I just wanted her to come home safely. If she came back, this family would come back. But that was forever impossible. 4 Professor Vance stayed silent for a moment before saying, “Tell me the specific autopsy results.” “The body was highly desiccated. The skin was dry, wrinkled, and had a leathery appearance. Her eyes were slightly open, and the eyeballs were sunken due to fluid loss. Because the blood was highly concentrated, livor mortis was unusually dark and abnormally distributed. The blood inside her heart and major vessels was dark red and highly viscous. Body cavity fluids were significantly reduced.” After countless sleepless nights of research and review, my sister’s autopsy report was permanently etched into my mind. Even the visual memory of the autopsy itself flashed before my eyes again. Professor Vance stopped stirring his coffee. “In April, the nighttime temperature at the bottom of an abandoned mine shaft on Blackwood Mountain usually drops to around 50 degrees. A twelve-year-old child trapped there for three full days would generally die of hypothermia.” I took a deep breath and said, “That is the most bizarre and anomalous part of the autopsy.” “When a person experiences severe hypothermia, the gastrointestinal mucosa undergoes a stress response, producing massive dark brown hemorrhagic spots. In forensics, we call these ‘Vishnevsky spots’. But my sister’s autopsy report showed her gastric mucosa was perfectly intact. There were absolutely no signs of cold exposure.” Professor Vance’s eyes instantly sharpened. “No hypothermia… but instead, she exhibited characteristics of hyperthermia?” I nodded, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Yes. The medical examiner’s final conclusion was that her direct cause of death was multiple organ failure induced by extreme dehydration—in other words, dying of thirst.” “What’s even more horrifying is that her organs showed pathological signs of extreme ‘dehydration fever’.” “When a person is severely dehydrated, their body can’t produce a single drop of sweat. The cooling system completely shuts down. It was as if she was locked inside an invisible oven. She was literally ‘dry-roasted’ to death by her own core body temperature!” “As for why she didn’t freeze to death, I went to the scene and spent a night there years ago. I found out that the bottom of that pit wasn’t cold at all.” I unzipped my backpack and spread a yellowed geological survey map on the desk. “I looked up the geological data for Blackwood Mountain. Even though the mine shaft is only a couple hundred feet deep, its bottom connects to an active geothermal fault line.” “That geothermal fault keeps the bottom of the pit at a constant temperature of around 77 degrees Fahrenheit year-round. With no wind, it’s essentially a natural incubator.” Professor Vance’s gaze hardened. He stared at his black coffee, tapping his knuckles lightly on the desk, deep in thought. The office was so quiet that only the ticking of the clock could be heard. After a long while, he asked another question: “What were the results of the toxicology and exclusionary diagnostics?” “Blood and vitreous humor tests showed extreme elevations in blood sodium and blood oxygen. She must have gone completely blind at least a day before she died.” “There were no signs of food or mineral poisoning. Her body only had minor abrasions, ruling out blunt force trauma or assault.” I rattled off the facts in one breath. “Any signs of sexual assault?” I shook my head. “None. But… there is one thing that has always baffled me.” Professor Vance gestured for me to continue. “The autopsy and crime scene evidence indicated that my sister likely took her last breath sometime between the afternoon and night of the third day she was missing. The body was discovered exactly on the morning of the fourth day. It’s too coincidental. It feels like… like…” “Like someone had been standing by, watching her coldly the entire time, intentionally waiting until she was completely dead before letting you guys find her?” Professor Vance stared at me without blinking. “Yes, it was found entirely too ‘conveniently’.” I nodded slowly. “During those three days, she endured the ultimate agony of dehydration fever. For a healthy adult, the absolute limit of survival without water is three days. Let alone a twelve-year-old child. The killer timed it perfectly to ensure she was dead.” “How was this case classified back then?” “Because my sister’s cause of death couldn’t be logically explained, it was still classified as an accidental death. But Detective Miller, the lead investigator, disagreed. He said there were too many suspicious elements, and calling it an ‘accident’ was incredibly irresponsible. Later on, someone even suggested my sister committed suicide by intentionally refusing to eat or drink. But she clearly had food in her mouth…” “Are you saying when she was found, she had food in her mouth?” Professor Vance interrupted me, unable to hold back. “Yes.” I nodded, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “Her mouth was completely stuffed. It was the snacks my mom had packed for her the morning she disappeared.” Professor Vance’s expression grew even more solemn. “What about her stomach?” I shook my head. “Nothing. It was empty.” The hand Professor Vance was using to hold his coffee mug suddenly tightened. “Were there signs of climbing or scrambling in the pit? Was there dirt on her clothes and shoes?” “Yes. All ten of her fingers were scraped raw. The nails on her left middle finger and right index finger were completely torn off…” My eyes burned as I fought down the dull ache in my chest. “…She was still clutching a few dried Ghost Orchids in her hand… the ones meant for me…” Professor Vance stared at me and said, word by word: “No hypothermia. Anomalous dehydration fever. A container full of water, and a mouth stuffed full of food she couldn’t swallow. Chloe, I can confirm with absolute certainty that your sister’s death was a homicide.” 5 My heart violently contracted, and the coffee mug in my hand nearly slipped. “Wh… why?” Even though I expected the result, my voice still trembled uncontrollably. Who would do this to a child who had just turned twelve? What kind of deep-seated hatred would drive someone to torture a little girl so sadistically? “There was dirt under her fingernails. There were signs of scrambling. Her nails were torn off. This proves she exhausted every ounce of her strength trying to survive.” “And a person fighting that hard to survive does not commit suicide.” “Have you ever considered that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to drink the water, but that she couldn’t drink it?” My scalp went numb. “What do you mean?” My first instinct was that this was absurd. What could possibly threaten a desperate child so much that she would leave a full cup of water untouched and literally allow herself to die of thirst? “There was some external force that made her too terrified to drink, or completely unable to drink.” Professor Vance’s eyes blazed. “If that’s the case, then this external force understood your sister incredibly well.” “Therefore, it must be someone she knew. Perhaps someone she was very familiar with.” My mind went completely blank, as if I had been struck by lightning. My entire body froze. For ten years, I had visited that abandoned mine shaft countless times, obsessively turning over every blade of grass and bush at the crime scene. Time and time again, I sat at the bottom of the pit, trying to reconstruct the events of that day. Hoping to find even the slightest clue. But in the end, I found nothing. I had considered countless possibilities. Did the fall give her brain damage? Did she feel like her family didn’t love her enough, so she stubbornly refused to drink out of spite? … But I had never, ever considered that she couldn’t drink the water. 6 Right at that moment, my phone rang. It was Mrs. Higgins, a volunteer from the neighborhood stray cat rescue. She told me that the stray cat I had been rescuing had something terrible happen to it. “Chloe, honey, your cat is dead. I’m so sorry. She was so wild, she ran off outside for two days. When she came back, I poured her a bowl completely full of cat food.” “I don’t know what happened to her, it’s like she caught some weird disease. She stuffed a mouthful of kibble into her mouth, but she just wouldn’t swallow it. She’d spit it out, put it back in, and literally forced herself to starve to death…” I started rescuing stray cats three years after my sister died. I named this particular orange cat “Lily,” using my sister’s name. My head buzzed loudly, and I almost dropped my phone. “A mouth full of food, unable to swallow, guarding a bowl of food while starving to death…” How terrifyingly similar was this to my sister guarding her water bottle, dying of thirst with unswallowed snacks in her mouth?! Professor Vance noticed my pale face. “What happened?” I took a deep breath and repeated what Mrs. Higgins told me. “It looks like that person has been around this whole time.” Professor Vance’s gaze darkened. He grabbed his car keys from the desk. “Let’s go. We need to examine that cat’s body.” Half an hour later, we were standing on a balcony looking at the cat’s corpse. The orange cat’s body was already completely stiff, its mouth half-open. Sure enough, its oral cavity was stuffed with soggy, viscous cat kibble. Its chin was covered in dried saliva. Its cloudy eyes stared into the void, full of helplessness and unwillingness. What kind of torture did it endure before it died? That extreme desire for food, only to face the agonizing inability to swallow it at the very last second—it instantly pulled me back to that mine shaft from ten years ago. Mrs. Higgins nervously rubbed her hands together, repeatedly explaining how bizarrely the cat had died. “This kind of death is really rare, you know? I haven’t seen it in at least ten years. Back then, there were a few cats and dogs that died looking almost exactly like how Lily looks right now…” Hearing Mrs. Higgins say this, a violent shiver ran through my body. Ten years ago? That was exactly when my sister’s accident happened. I violently grabbed Mrs. Higgins’s wrist, my voice trembling as I demanded: “Mrs. Higgins, what did you just say? Ten years ago? Where did you find those dead stray cats and dogs ten years ago?!” “Who usually went to feed them? Did you see any suspicious people around? Please, think carefully, this is incredibly important to me!” Mrs. Higgins was startled, then shook her head blankly. “It’s been ten years, honey. How could I possibly remember clearly? And nobody really paid much attention to the stray animals out there anyway.” “Chloe.” Professor Vance pulled me back from the brink of a breakdown. “Don’t rush this. Let’s dissect the cat’s body and confirm things first. You can’t just look at the surface.” I nodded. 7 We brought Lily’s body back to the anatomy lab. The bright fluorescent lights flickered on, casting a harsh, pale glare on the emaciated orange cat. “Remember, everything that is done leaves a trace. The more the perpetrator does, the more flaws they expose,” Professor Vance said. I put on my sterile scrubs and pulled on rubber gloves. Ten years. The moment I held a scalpel again, my hands still trembled uncontrollably. But there were some things I had to face. I had to forge armor out of my courage. Only then could I go onto the battlefield and fight. Chloe, you can do this. Believe in yourself. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried with all my might to steady my nerves. The scalpel started at the cat’s oral cavity, making a precise, incremental incision. I carefully separated the muscle tissue, exposing the esophagus and trachea. Professor Vance stood to the side, his brows tightly furrowed. I cut down the throat straight to the stomach. In that instant, my pupils contracted sharply, and my breathing stopped. “What is it?” Professor Vance keenly noticed my reaction. “The entire esophagus…” My hand holding the scalpel froze in mid-air. My trembling gaze swept over every inch of the exposed tissue, and the hair on my arms stood on end. “There is no mechanical obstruction. No signs of toxic corrosion. No pathology in the smooth muscle.” “It is exactly the same as my sister.” “Ten years ago, the killer practiced on stray cats and dogs. Only after perfecting their method did they move on to killing a human.” Professor Vance’s eyes were dark. “Chloe, you are a PhD student in criminal psychology. Show me your professional discipline. Step back and look at this as an objective observer.” “Go back and take a hard look at the people around you. Don’t let a single one slip by.” “If you only focus your eyes on your sister’s death, you’ll miss too much. Investigate your mother’s suicide and your father’s insanity as well.” “Professor Vance, do you mean… all of this was man-made?” I gripped the edge of the dissection table so hard my knuckles turned white, breaking out in full-body goosebumps. For ten years, I believed it was my one angry sentence that destroyed my entire family. But now, an icy chill, like a venomous snake silently locking onto its prey, crawled frantically up my spine. “If my guess is right, that person has been by your side this entire time.” Professor Vance’s expression was exceptionally grave. “I need you to contact the detective who worked your case immediately and check two things.” “First, your family’s social network. Relatives, friends, neighbors, even your parents’ colleagues. Make a list.” “Second, find out who was near your sister’s class on the day of the incident, or anyone who frequently interacted with her class. You will find something.” Professor Vance paused, then added, “If you identify a suspect, do not alert them. Come to me. Remember that.” Perhaps fearing I wouldn’t take it seriously enough, he added one final instruction before leaving the room: “You’ve waited ten years. Don’t rush it now.” 8 March 5, 2026. I found Detective Miller, the officer who oversaw my sister’s case back then, and relayed Professor Vance’s deductions to him. He slammed his hand on his thigh. “Back then, we focused our investigation entirely on a twenty-mile radius around the crime scene. The one thing we never considered was an acquaintance.” “If we follow the two threads Professor Vance suggested, they form a net. Whoever gets caught in that net is our suspect.” “Don’t worry, Chloe. I will drag this person out of the shadows for you!” Feeling like a breakthrough was imminent, Detective Miller instantly looked ten years younger, walking with a renewed spring in his step. On March 6, my sister’s case was officially reclassified as a criminal homicide investigation. Professor Vance joined the task force as a consulting criminal investigator. That same day, I asked Detective Miller to pull the neighborhood surveillance footage from the past week. I fed photos of the stray cat, Lily, into an AI program to trace its movement patterns. I used the fastest method to identify anyone it interacted with over the last few days. But there was nothing unusual. It wasn’t until the fourth day that an old security camera near a local bodega captured a blurry but familiar figure. On that day, I had visited the abandoned mine shaft on Blackwood Mountain and re-examined the decade-old crime scene. When I looked at those remaining, heavily blurred footprints at the scene, a specific possibility suddenly struck me. An icy chill shot up from the soles of my feet, traveled up my calves, and pierced straight into my skull, making my scalp tingle. What if one of the three people who initially found my sister’s body was the killer? Then, after arriving at the scene, their earlier footprints would simply blend in. Or they could have been “accidentally” blurred out by them. Professor Vance had hypothesized that the killer was someone familiar to my sister. But just how familiar? I had to go confirm it myself. Before I went, I met with Professor Vance again. After listening to my deduction regarding the footprints at the scene and the discovery in the surveillance footage, he only said one thing: “Chloe, remember, you are a criminal psychology scholar. You cannot stare into the abyss for too long. When the abyss stares back at you, do not let it consume you.” 9 March 11, 7:25 AM. On the way to the State Psychiatric Facility to see my father. I received a call from Detective Miller. The background check on the people related to Blackwood Mountain on the day of the incident was complete. “Chloe, because this case is highly sensitive, and for your personal safety, my superiors and Professor Vance agreed to keep you updated on the investigation so you aren’t caught off guard and give the killer an opening. The investigation results and the suspect’s files have been sent to your email…” After reading the files in my inbox, I laughed. I laughed until my lungs burned. Combining the surveillance screening from the past few days, yesterday’s re-examination of the crime scene, and all the little details of my family’s life over the years… I touched a horrifying truth that completely flipped everything I thought I knew upside down. 10 At exactly 8:00 AM, I walked into the facility I had visited countless times over the past five years. After my mother passed away, my father’s mental state slowly deteriorated. Every time he saw me, he would lunge forward, looking like he wanted to strangle me. I thought he resented me, hated me, and refused to see me. So I had to hire people to take care of him. Later on, as he became increasingly incoherent, I had no choice but to admit him to the psychiatric facility. But every time he saw me, his emotional state would become wildly erratic. To avoid triggering him, for the last five years, I would only visit once every two months, just to look at him from a distance. That was it. This was also the first time since he got “sick” that I went in to deeply and carefully understand his medical condition. No one knows that my father, a high school teacher, always wanted to be a psychiatrist. Because of this, he didn’t just spend years studying the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5); he practically self-taught himself clinical psychiatry, neurobiology, and behavioral psychology. Now that he was a long-term resident at a psychiatric hospital, I guess you could say he achieved his dream. His attending physician, Dr. Caleb Shaw, was the only one of my father’s former students who went into clinical psychiatry and psychology. Before my sister’s accident, the two of them were like mentor and friend, and he was a frequent guest at our house. He was also the only person who didn’t blame me after my sister’s accident, and the only one who comforted me.

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I was a complete try-hard, but my entire brand was “effortless perfection.” Ever since I was little, I was absolutely determined to take the number one spot in everything. Watching the awe and admiration in other people’s eyes as they looked at me like a genius gave me a thrill so intense it made my scalp tingle. That was, until high school, when I became the perpetual second place. Later, the guy in first place and the girl in third place started dating. When the results for another mock exam came out, I heard someone in the hallway laughing: “Why is Riley always stuck between those two lovebirds like a giant third wheel? Hahaha…” Walking past an empty classroom, I heard the valedictorian tutoring his girlfriend: “Baby, if you score a few more points next time, our names can be right next to each other on the honor roll.” “…” I completely snapped. You want your names next to each other, right? Fine. I’ll take first place and grant your wish! 1 I’ve been fiercely competitive since I was a kid. From the moment I became the fastest in my kindergarten class to master basic arithmetic, earning praise from the teachers and envy from my classmates, my life’s trajectory was set. My vanity swelled as I grew older. Before high school, I practically monopolized the number one spot in my grade. Basking in the reverent gazes of my peers, I felt an intoxicating rush. The joy of a perfectionist pretending to be effortless is just that superficial. For high school, I tested into the elite St. Jude’s Academy with the highest score in the city. But of all places, this was where I met Tristan Hayes. For the entirety of freshman and sophomore year, I never beat him. Not even once! I, someone who lived and breathed to show off, was firmly nailed to the humiliating post of “perpetual second place.” The teachers would always console me: “Riley, you’re already outstanding. You just lack a tiny bit of luck. Just be more careful next time.” But I’d hear them discussing in the faculty lounge: “Tristan’s brain just works on another level. His logic is so mature. I heard he used to do college-level math competitions…” Even when classmates came to ask me questions, they always had to throw in a “high-EQ” backhanded compliment that pierced my heart: “Riley, being able to hold down second place is insane! You’re the only person in our grade who can even compete with Tristan.” Tristan. I maintained my polite, breezy smile: “What can I say? I’m just not as skilled.” Inside, I was screaming and dying of rage. As soon as the classmate left, my desk-mate, Chloe, leaned in mysteriously. “Riley, I’ve got some gossip.” “Hmm?” My eyes stayed on my textbook, but my ears perked up. “Tristan is dating.” What does that have to do with me? “Guess who he’s dating?” I finally shifted my gaze from the worksheet to look at her. “Who?” “Serena Blake,” Chloe whispered. “Who?” Chloe: “…” She rolled her eyes at me. “My dear Queen Riley, if someone scores lower than you, do they just not exist in your eyes?” “Her class rank is right behind you and Tristan.” Thanks to Chloe, I got a crash course on this academic romance. Tristan and Serena were in the class next door. Serena used to rank in the top twenty, but this semester, her grades skyrocketed. “I heard they stay after school every day to do practice tests together. The valedictorian is personally tutoring her. No wonder she improved so fast. He’s a gold-medal tutor,” Chloe sighed. I finally remembered who Serena was. Actually, after every exam, I always checked the names of the people ranked right behind me. Serena had long, dark hair, big round eyes, and curled eyelashes. She was very cute. “You don’t have any thoughts on this?” Chloe poked me, whispering. “The teachers definitely know, but since it’s Tristan, they just turn a blind eye.” “No, why would I care?” I smiled. Date, date, date away! I hope you both get distracted and drop to the bottom of the class! I thought viciously. Right before the end of our sophomore year, the final honor roll was posted. I stood near the back of the crowd, but the rankings were crystal clear. Second place again. I was so mad I planned to go home and eat two massive bowls of rice to vent my frustration. But before I could even finish being angry, I heard someone in front of me joking: “Why is Riley always stuck between those two lovebirds like a giant third wheel? Hahaha…” “Our graduating class really hit the jackpot with these two freaks. The first and second place have never changed hands. But I bet Serena has a chance to overtake Riley next time. She was only six points behind her this round.” “…” That wasn’t all. After school, I realized I forgot my house keys and went back to grab them. Passing the classroom next door, I happened to see Tristan tutoring Serena. They were the only two left in the room. They were sitting by the window. Tristan’s voice drifted out: “Baby, if you score a few more points next time, our names can be right next to each other on the honor roll.” “…” Being the eternal runner-up was miserable enough. But instead of people hoping I’d pull Tristan off his throne, there were actually people hoping someone else would pull me off mine? I let out a dark chuckle. I was fully in my villain era now. You two want your names next to each other, right? Fine. I’ll take first place and grant your wish! 2 At dinner, my parents, accustomed to my second-place finishes, praised me as usual: “Second place is amazing! Your mom and I never scored this high when we were in school. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” How could I not? I absolutely had to get first place. But at my level, hiring those expensive, gold-star private tutors wouldn’t do much good. Suddenly, a car pulled into the driveway next door. My mom mentioned casually, “Ethan is back for the summer. Do you want me to go over and ask him for his old study materials?” Ethan Sterling. He was two years older than me. During his senior year, he swept the state academic decathlons and secured early admission to an Ivy League university. When he got in, let alone our school, even our neighborhood threw a block party. For a while, he was the absolute star of the town. Before I could speak, my dad said, “Ethan is a competition genius. His materials probably aren’t suitable for our girl’s standard curriculum, right?” The moment my dad said that, a lightbulb went off in my head. I jumped up from my chair. “Why are you acting so frantic?” My mom was startled. I sat back down, shoveled the rest of my food into my mouth at lightning speed, put down my fork, and announced, “I’m going to ask Ethan for his study materials.” The gate to the Sterlings’ yard was open. I walked right in, greeted Mr. and Mrs. Sterling on the first floor, and sprinted straight to the second floor. Ethan, wearing a white tee and baggy jeans, was slouching on the upstairs sofa playing a game on his phone. The lights were dim, and the glow of the screen illuminated his flawlessly sculpted profile. Honestly, I didn’t like Ethan. From the first time I met him when I was ten, listening to our parents exchange parenting tips, I knew immediately—this guy was also a massive “try-hard.” And try-hards never like people who are better at faking it than they are. Sure enough, all these years had only proven my initial impression right. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me. “Well, if it isn’t little Riley…” Before he could finish his sentence, I dropped straight to my knees in front of him. Before I could even speak, Ethan, who had been lounging on the sofa, jumped up in shock. “Riley, why the hell are you kneeling?” I looked at him, absolutely serious. “Ethan, I heard you’re home for the summer. I want to hire you as my tutor.” Ethan came over to pull me up. “If you want to hire a tutor, just ask. Why are you kneeling? You’re going to curse me, and if my mom sees this, she’ll beat me to death.” “It means I’m begging you,” I blinked. “Kneeling on one knee is weird, so kneeling on both shows more sincerity.” “…” “Ethan, can I book you for two months at market rate?” “…Don’t word it like you’re hiring an escort.” “Oh.” Ethan pulled me up and looked me up and down for a good moment. “I remember your grades being pretty solid. Why do you need me to tutor you?” I hesitated for a second, debating, but decided to be honest. “So you’re telling me, since entering high school, you’ve been stuck in second place for two straight years?” Ethan looked at me in amazement, then gave me a genuine thumbs-up. “Honestly, impressive.” “…” Was he mocking me? From what I knew, even though Ethan focused on advanced competitions, whenever he took the standard school exams, no one could ever pry him out of the number one spot. He had no weak subjects. “So you’re here to learn the secret to getting first place?” My ears burned, but I nodded honestly. As expected, a fellow try-hard understands best. Ethan suddenly let out a laugh. “If you’re willing to drop to your knees and beg me, it seems you really want that number one spot.” People like us hate begging others. But Ethan didn’t need the money. If I didn’t beg, why would he agree to tutor me? And compared to the humiliation of begging, staying the perpetual runner-up would actually kill me. “So, will you teach me?” I looked at him eagerly. Ethan had a lazy smile on his face. It was the exact same effortless, carefree smile he wore during his senior year when he secured his Ivy League acceptance. Faking it without breaking a sweat. I was so incredibly jealous. 3 “Bring me your most recent exams tomorrow. I’ll take a look,” Ethan said. “I can’t guarantee I’ll take the job.” That meant he would take the job. Try-hards always leave themselves a little wiggle room when they speak. The next day, I brought him my exams. Not just the recent mock exams, but the ones from the two previous grading periods as well. He flipped through all my incorrect answers. His first comment was: “Nice handwriting.” “…” Of course it was. Since I was a kid, I knew how crucial good handwriting was. I used to fill baskets with calligraphy practice books, all just so that when people praised my beautiful handwriting, I could casually reply: “It’s alright, I guess.” It felt amazing. “You don’t lose many points on careless mistakes. You’re meticulous. For the standard curriculum material, you’re getting almost perfect scores. Your biggest problem is the bonus and advanced questions. It’s normal that you struggle with the ones that go beyond the syllabus.” Ethan paused. He didn’t say the second half of that sentence, but I understood. I couldn’t do them, but Tristan could. That was where he had the edge. “Also, don’t just focus on the STEM subjects. You need to pull your English and History scores up by 5 to 8 points. Maximize your points across the board.” I glared at him resentfully. Did he think I didn’t know that? Bringing English up by 5 to 8 points meant getting a near-perfect score. He said it like it was nothing. Ethan stared at my tense face and laughed. “Why are you looking at me like that? Didn’t you hire me to boost your score? Doubting my abilities?” He was so full of himself. When would I be able to fake it as effortlessly as him? Ethan’s parents were thrilled to hear I’d hired him as a tutor. Their reasoning? It would cut down on the time he spent addicted to video games. ? Addicted to video games, yet easily dominating as the academic god? I was so jealous I could cry. High school summer break began. I didn’t have summer classes yet, so I practically moved in next door. During the weekdays, I would take pictures of my incorrect answers, send them to Ethan, and he would explain them all to me on the weekends. Actually, before I even sent him most of the questions, I had already spent hours figuring out the logic myself. On the weekend, Ethan asked, “Do you know how to do them now?” I nodded. “Yes.” Ethan pulled out a piece of scratch paper with several handwritten problems on it. “Try these.” His handwriting was elegant and sharp, perfectly balanced. I remembered a story: the calligraphy class my mom enrolled me in was actually recommended by Ethan’s parents. I had never seen the problems on the scratch paper before, but they followed the same core logic as the advanced questions I had gotten wrong. Using what I’d learned, I solved the first two. I got stuck on the third one for a while, scribbling all over the paper, but eventually stumbled my way to the answer. For the last one, I burned through two whole pages of scratch paper. None of the approaches I tried worked. I finally put my pen down and looked at Ethan. “I don’t know how to do this one.” The guy next to me smirked. “It’s fine. That’s a college-level competition problem. It’s normal that you don’t know it.” “…” What a blatant attempt to provoke me. 4 I stared at the problem for a long time, as if sheer willpower could reveal the answer. Ethan chuckled beside me. “Alright, going to let your personal tutor show his worth?” His long, elegant fingers gripped the pen and circled two key variables in the equation. He leaned in close as he explained, his voice falling right next to my ear as he turned slightly to look at me. The chaotic mess of my thought process instantly cleared up under his precise guidance. “You probably won’t see this exact type of question on your exams, but consider it mental weightlifting.” He then flipped back to the previous question I had solved. “My answer was right.” I didn’t understand why Ethan wanted to waste time on a question I had already conquered. Ethan smiled like a fox. “If you and everyone else can solve the same advanced question, how do you prove you’re better than them?” I thought for a moment. “By having cleaner, more elegant steps?” “What else?” I drew a blank. “Riley, think about it. For a tough problem, what if others only know one method, but you know two, or even more?” Under my solution, Ethan wrote: [Method 2]. ? I had an epiphany. My eyes lit up as I looked at him. This was brilliant! So pretentious! I loved it! Immediately, Ethan showed me five other ways to solve that exact problem. Two of them required college-level calculus. But the way he explained it, I actually understood. “…” I was so jealous. By July, my summer break was officially in full swing. When the final semester grades were released, I was at Ethan’s house doing practice tests. I checked my rank. Still second. Ethan glanced over. “Scores are out?” I gave a weak “Mhm.” “Not bad. You’re only 5 points behind first place. That’s an improvement.” The main reason nobody in school thought I could beat Tristan was that his total score was historically always a solid dozen points higher than mine. I acted completely unfazed at school, but in reality, I was grinding my teeth into dust. Ethan’s words did not comfort me. Until he handed me a folder. “Here’s your preliminary study plan. Grind through this summer, and we’ll talk about competing next semester.” “Who’s competing?” Ethan nodded patronizingly. “Right, right, you’re not competing. A soldier who doesn’t want to be a general is a bad soldier, and a student who doesn’t want first place is a bad student.” “…” When you fail to achieve something for a long time, it becomes an obsession. That summer, I practically lived at Ethan’s house, studying until my brain was fried. But Ethan treated his tutoring gig like a real job with actual PTO. Whenever he took a day off, I stayed home and did practice tests. Occasionally, classmates would ask me to hang out, and I would actually go. When the topic of prep classes came up, I would smile faintly. “I didn’t sign up for any prep classes. I’ve just been binge-watching shows and playing video games lately.” The binge-watching was true—I watched movie recaps on 3x speed. The video games were also true—Ethan insisted on “work-life balance” and dragged me into playing a few matches with him. My classmates’ reactions were exactly what I expected: “Riley, why would you even need tutoring? You should just pack your bags for the Ivy Leagues already!” “It’s so unfair how easy school is for smart people. My mom hired a top-tier private tutor for me, and I barely have the energy to breathe, let alone watch TV…” “What games do you play, Riley?” I told them the name of the game, and they looked thrilled. “No way, what a coincidence! We should squad up sometime.” “Sure,” I agreed with a bright smile. Crap. Now I had to find time to actually practice the game. 5 Ethan’s tutoring style was very different from any tutor I’d had before. He was blunt: “Solidifying the basics is important, but the basics alone won’t get you to the top. The problem types I’m showing you might never appear in your senior year, but they’ll completely rewire your critical thinking skills.” He didn’t just tutor me in STEM; he took over my English and Humanities too. I studied in the second-floor living room of Ethan’s house, using his personal desk that he had dragged out of his study for me. During the day, his parents were at work. It was usually just the two of us, plus the housekeeper who came by to cook. But Ethan would constantly tempt me, asking seductively, “Riley, do you want some junk food?” I seriously suspect that a significant portion of the tutoring money my mom paid him ended up in both of our stomachs via Uber Eats. While I solved problems, Ethan would sit behind me on the sofa, playing on his phone. When I finished, I’d turn around for him to grade them. I turned around once and found him fast asleep on the sofa. I crouched next to him, admiring his flawless skin, his sharp nose, and his thick eyelashes up close. “…” Jealousy came as naturally as breathing to me. After waiting ten minutes, seeing no sign of him waking up, I poked his arm. Ethan woke up, looking at me groggily. It took him a few seconds to process. “Finished?” He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I was playing games until 4 AM last night. I’m a bit tired.” Then he walked over to the desk, picked up my scratch paper, glanced at it, and immediately identified the mistake. I stared at him resentfully. He gamed until 4 AM, then woke up early the next day to earn money as a tutor? And he still had this much energy? Jealous. I spent my entire summer following Ethan’s grueling routine. Driven by the desire for that number one spot, I forgot to eat and sleep. I went through every single past exam paper from the last few years. As long as it wasn’t a purely subjective essay question, I secured every possible point. Before I knew it, the new school year started. I went back to school earlier than Ethan. He handed me a brand new study plan. “Your teachers have to accommodate the pace of the whole class. This plan is tailored specifically for you. Also, these are a few workbooks I picked out for you from the bookstore. Text me if you have any questions.” I had to admit, Ethan was an incredibly dedicated tutor. He charged by the hour, but he constantly went into overtime and flatly refused whenever my mom tried to offer him a bonus. Senior year didn’t shuffle the class rosters, so I was surrounded by familiar faces, but the atmosphere was noticeably more intense. The teachers constantly fed us motivational quotes like, “The game isn’t over yet; any of you could be the dark horse.” I had heard it all a million times. Until the first mock exam of senior year. I was laser-focused during every single subject. After finishing, I meticulously checked my work. Hiring Ethan as my tutor had definitely paid off. I could feel my problem-solving logic was infinitely sharper than before. On the day the rankings were posted, I suppressed the burning anxiety in my chest and casually strolled past the Honor Roll board. My eyes slowly drifted to the name in the number one spot. Riley Evans. First place! My very first number one rank in high school! The corners of my mouth crept up. I looked down at the second-place name. ? It wasn’t Tristan? I scanned all the way down to tenth place. Tristan’s name wasn’t there. Something was wrong. 6 At that moment, I heard people talking in front of the board: “What happened this time? Riley is actually first. Where’s Tristan?” “Tristan had a terrible fever on the day of the exam. He was absent.” “No wonder. Otherwise, how could Riley ever get first?” “…” My rising smile froze completely. Before the rankings came out, I had imagined many scenarios. The worst one was remaining in second place. I never imagined that Tristan would be absent. Which meant, to everyone else, this first-place finish was basically handed to me by default. I was furious. Back in the classroom, friends congratulated me on getting first place. I acted humble on the surface, thanking them, but the second I got home, I turned into a miserable, brooding mushroom. Before bed, Ethan unexpectedly video-called me. I hesitated for a second but answered. The background was his college dorm. Ethan was sitting at his desk, wearing a headset. “What do you want?” I muttered darkly. The guy on the screen smiled at me. “Your mom said you got first place but you’ve been looking depressed all evening. She dispatched me to cheer you up. Why aren’t you happy about getting first, Ms. Evans?” I pressed my lips together, refusing to speak. But Ethan was incredibly patient, and eventually, I spilled the whole story. Ethan was silent for a few seconds after listening, then said sympathetically, “No wonder your eyes are red from crying.” “Who’s crying?!” I glared at him. Ethan laughed again. “Riley, I asked around. You’re nearly 20 points ahead of the second-place student. That proves you’ve made huge progress.” “People are saying I won by default,” I said, still feeling low. Although I was a try-hard who loved to show off, I had always backed it up with genuine, hard-earned ability. “Even if he hadn’t been absent this time, you still would have gotten first place, and people still would have said it was a fluke.” Ethan offered advice from the perspective of someone who had been there. “He missed one exam. He won’t miss the second or the third. Your goal isn’t just to get first place once. Over time, those doubting voices will disappear.” Ethan’s words calmed me down a bit. I knew the logic, but I had been obsessing over this ranking for two years and had dug myself into a mental hole. “Figured it out? If you have, go to sleep peacefully. You’re too young to carry so much mental baggage.” The call ended. I took a deep breath, lay down on my bed, and tried to sleep. Ten minutes later, I crawled out of bed and finished half a practice test at my desk before I could finally sleep peacefully. When I went back to school the next day, I maintained my persona as the effortless, aloof academic god. My homeroom teacher even called me into the office for a pep talk: “Riley, your state of mind this semester is excellent, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. If you run into any difficulties in your studies or your personal life, you can always talk to me.” I knew the teachers also felt my first-place finish wasn’t entirely legitimate, but just as Ethan said, we had a long road ahead. Time would prove everything. The next major exam after the mock was the city-wide standardized test. Tristan, in the class next door, had long since returned to school. As the exam approached, I accidentally overheard the boys in his class talking as they walked together: “Tristan, make sure you take back your rightful number one spot this time!” 7 A city-wide standardized test naturally included students from other high schools, allowing for a much broader comparison. The questions this time were brutally difficult, especially in Math and Physics. Even the English section included a lot of obscure, college-level vocabulary. Almost everyone walked out of the exam rooms sighing in despair. I, of course, realized the difficulty of the exam. And the results proved that my decision to hire Ethan as my tutor over the summer was entirely correct. After the exams were over, the teachers began reviewing the papers. Because of the difficulty, one class period simply wasn’t enough time. When the math teacher finally got to the last question, half the grading results had already been released. “It’s completely normal that most of you couldn’t solve this problem. Getting the first sub-question right is already a great achievement. From what I know, the teachers grading this question had a very easy time. So far, there are fewer than five students in the entire city who solved it perfectly. Do we have anyone in our class who did?” In the dead silence, I slowly raised my hand. The math teacher nodded in satisfaction. “It looks like in the two classes I teach, only Riley and Tristan from the class next door managed to solve it. “Riley, come up to the board and walk us through your thought process.” Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I walked to the podium and clearly laid out and explained the solution steps. When I finished calculating the final result on the chalkboard, I paused and looked at the math teacher. “Teacher, actually, I have another method that is much more elegant.” The math teacher looked slightly surprised. “Go ahead.” So, I began explaining the second method. This time, more students in the class showed expressions of sudden realization. The math teacher’s gaze upon me was filled with even more admiration. I couldn’t care less if people secretly called me a try-hard. When people think I’m pretending to be a genius, it means my performance was a success. It felt so good! Even before the official scores for all subjects were released, I had already estimated my score based on the answer keys. My ranking would depend on how everyone else performed. On the day the rankings were posted, I didn’t rush to look at them immediately. Being too eager would ruin my aloof, unbothered persona. During passing period, while everyone else ran to check the brand-new Honor Roll board, I sat calmly at my desk, working on the practice book Ethan had given me. My desk-mate jogged back into the room, looking at me excitedly. “Riley, you’re number one! Number one in the whole city!” She wasn’t the only one. Other classmates came over to congratulate me. “As expected of our Queen Riley! You’re insane! You beat Tristan by 2 points!” “With questions that difficult, scoring a 1580—are you trying to ascend to heaven?” “This is so satisfying! When you got first on the last mock exam, the class next door said you only won because Tristan was absent and got lucky. Let’s see what they have to say now!” “…” I had a pretty good reputation in class. Firstly, because of my grades, and secondly, because of my willingness to help classmates with their questions. I was even the Class Representative for Academics. Now, facing my classmates who were genuinely happy for me, I maintained my persona and smiled faintly. “I guess I just had pretty good luck this time.” That day after school, I walked past the Honor Roll board. Seeing the names of the little couple from the class next door nestled together right beneath my first-place spot, a mysterious smile graced my face. I had finally granted the little couple’s wish. Going home, I hid under my thin blanket and rolled around on my bed in excitement. It felt so good! Getting first place is the best feeling in the world! 8 When I went back to school, I was still the hardworking, humble, and unbothered top student. Since we were in adjacent classes, I occasionally bumped into Tristan in the hallway. We obviously knew who each other were, but we weren’t close—barely even acquaintances. For the past two years, he probably hadn’t even considered me a blip on his radar, considering I had always been stuck beneath him in the academic rankings. Now, when we crossed paths, I occasionally caught him looking at me. It was the kind of appraising look reserved for a genuine rival. Satisfying. I naturally told Ethan about getting first place. After offering a few polite compliments, he asked for my exam papers and then asked, “How are you doing on those practice books I gave you before?” “I’ve finished most of them,” I replied. “I bought a new set of exams. I’ll bring them back for you this weekend,” Ethan said. I was a bit taken aback. “Didn’t the tutoring end a long time ago…” Giving me practice books right as the tutoring ended made sense, but what was the point of bringing me more exams now? Ethan chuckled. “Isn’t this my first time being a tutor? I need to let you experience what premium after-sales service feels like.” “…” I really need to learn how to act as effortlessly cool as him in the future. In a semester, there are only a few major exams with grade-wide rankings. After the city-wide standardized test, there was another mock exam. I didn’t get first place that time. I missed it by exactly 1 point. My mindset was better than before, but I still went home and sulked for the entire night. Compared to Tristan’s crushing dominance in the past, the current situation was much brighter for me. The nickname “Perpetual Runner-Up” was slowly detaching itself from me. When finals approached, I dialed my focus up to twelve. I double-checked almost every single question. Especially for the advanced questions, I only felt relieved when I used two different methods and arrived at the exact same answer. After that came winter break. Time passed much faster than I imagined. Just a few days into the break, it was my 18th birthday. My parents went all out decorating the house, ordered a custom cake, and prepared gifts. That day, the final rankings were released. First place, beating the second place by a full 5 points. My heart was soaring with joy. After asking for my opinion, my parents invited Ethan’s family over for dinner. At the dinner table, the adults engaged in their usual round of mutual bragging about their kids. I was used to it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ethan seriously focusing on his food. Good, he didn’t let my dad’s cooking go to waste. After eating the birthday cake, Ethan said he was taking me to his roof to set off fireworks. “You call these sparklers ‘fireworks’?” I asked, delivering a soul-piercing question. “Why is a young kid like you looking down on sparklers?” Ethan smiled brightly. “Aren’t they pretty?” “…” They were pretty, sure. But standing on a roof in the freezing winter wind at night made us look like complete idiots. Ethan lit a sparkler and placed it in my hand. “Make another wish. The day isn’t over yet. Wish for whatever teenage dreams you have.” The bright sparks danced in my hand. I reverently closed my eyes and solemnly made my 18th birthday wish. Click. A flash of white light went off. I opened my eyes to see Ethan pointing a camera at me, having just taken a picture. I had no idea where he pulled it from. “What did you wish for?” he asked. The sparkler in my hand hadn’t burned out yet. I met his gaze, unaware of how bright my eyes looked in the glow of the sparks. “I want to be the State Valedictorian.” That was my teenage dream. An incredibly ambitious dream. The sparkler fizzled out, but Ethan smiled, his eyes shining brightly too. “Alright, keep coming over during winter break. I’ll keep tutoring you.” I looked up in surprise. Before I could speak, he added, “Free of charge.” After hesitating for a moment, I asked, “If you have free time, shouldn’t you be looking for an internship?” Ethan looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Did I not tell you? I’m in a combined Master’s-PhD program. It’s going to be a long time before I graduate.” “…” So pretentious. I was dying of envy. As I was about to head downstairs, Ethan took the camera off his neck and, without any warning, hung it around mine. The weight of it made me freeze. “This is your birthday present. I hope you’ll be a happy adult.”

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I rescued three wolf pups from the streets, and they all grew up to be shifters. They clung to me every single day, practically dragging me into bed. Once, when I was completely exhausted and limp, I overheard them talking: “Tsk, with her weak body and stamina, she actually dares to keep three of us?” “It’s fine. Once she can’t take it anymore, she’ll just give us to her younger sister.” “She can’t even get out of bed right now. Give it a few more days, and she’ll give up on keeping us entirely.” My vision went black. I immediately grabbed my phone and called my sister: “Aren’t you always complaining about being frustrated? I’ll give you all three of my wolves. Give me that platonic snake shifter of yours!” 1 The conversation in the living room continued. They thought I was asleep. I lowered my eyes, looking at the faint glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the various red marks on my wrists and legs—all undeniable evidence of our intimacy. “She wouldn’t actually give us all to her sister, would she?” “Yeah, which means she’ll probably keep one of us.” “Tsk, Vivian is so wooden and boring. You guys can stay if you want, but I’m not doing it.” “…I don’t want to, either.” “Whatever, we’ll leave it to fate. Is she awake yet?” “Definitely not. She cried so hard she almost passed out earlier. How could she wake up so easily?” “She’s so weak.” “Let’s wake her up later and go at it for a few more days straight. She’ll probably give up on keeping us then.” My vision went completely dark. Pale-faced, I grabbed my phone and dialed my sister, Sabrina. She answered quickly. “What’s up, sis?” My voice was pure desperation: “Didn’t you say you were incredibly frustrated lately? I’ll give you all three of mine. Give me that platonic snake shifter of yours.” She paused, not rejecting the idea, but testing the waters. “Can we do that? Are they willing?” I went silent for a moment. “They like you.” She understood immediately. It was the truth. Everyone always liked her more. Sabrina thought about it. “I guess that works. Your place is too small anyway; it wasn’t a good environment for them. But… that snake of mine? He’s completely freezing and detached.” I said, “Is he platonic? If he is, then I want him. I didn’t plan on doing that with him anyway. I’m so drained lately, I just need him to do chores around the house. I’m just terrified he’ll be like these three wolves…” She laughed. “You’re overthinking it. Even I haven’t been able to tame him. There is zero chance he’ll be interested in you.” Before I could say anything else, she finalized the deal: “I’ll come pick them up this afternoon.” The second the call disconnected, my bedroom door was pushed open. “You’re awake?” A lazy voice drifted in, and I met a pair of sharp, mocking eyes. He walked over and reached to pull back my blanket. My voice was hoarse: “…Wait!” He narrowed his eyes, leaning in close. “What’s wrong, Master?” “I’m too exhausted. I need to rest,” I said softly. “You can’t do that,” he said casually. “Master, since you decided to keep us, you have to be responsible. We aren’t even full yet. If you rest, what are we supposed to do?” With that, he grabbed my chin. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I shoved him away with all my strength. “Sabrina is coming to pick you all up this afternoon!” The man in front of me froze. Even the two leaning against the doorframe paused. “We…” Chase tilted his head. “Which two of us?” They assumed I was splitting them up and giving two to Sabrina. I shook my head. “All of you.” 2 When I found the three wolf pups, it was a damp, rainy day. They were collapsed on the concrete, their fur matted with blood, looking absolutely pathetic. I originally wanted to just walk away. But one of them weakly wagged its tail twice, then slowly wrapped it around my ankle. Feeling a pang of pity, I took them home. Under my care, they recovered beautifully. After a while, they hit their growth spurt— And all of them transformed into beastmen. I should have sent them away, but the shifter rescue shelter told me they were incredibly attached to me and already viewed me as their master. If I abandoned them abruptly, it would cause them immense psychological trauma. Looking at those three pairs of beautiful eyes, my sympathy got the better of me, and I kept them. They said they didn’t have names, so I named them myself: Hunter, Chase, and Ryder. Young, hot-blooded wolf shifters had an insane amount of energy. Even in human form, they couldn’t control the twitching of their ears and tails, constantly clinging to me with sticky affection. Until one day, when Sabrina called me. “Sister, are you still refusing to come home for the arranged marriage?” I pushed Ryder, who was burying his face in my chest, away. “That man has had three wives die under mysterious circumstances, and he’s ugly.” She paused, then whispered, “But his family is rich…” I lowered my eyes. Because of this exact reason, after I fiercely fought against the marriage, my family completely cut off my finances. But they didn’t want to sacrifice Sabrina to that man either, so they could only subtly and aggressively pressure me. Sensing my low mood, Chase, who was always good at reading the room, narrowed his beautiful eyes, wrapped his arms affectionately around me, and comforted me. “If you’re uncomfortable, just hang up.” “What’s that noise?” Sabrina asked. I used the opportunity to change the subject, complaining, “I found three injured wolf pups a while ago. They recently shifted into human form and they are way too clingy. I honestly can’t handle it.” The other end of the line was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m so jealous. That snake shifter at my house won’t even let me touch him.” I froze for a second, then comforted her, “He’ll fall for you eventually.” Sabrina didn’t argue, just let out a light hum. After that phone call ended… The next day, Sabrina showed up at my apartment carrying bags of expensive gifts. Wearing a gorgeous, delicate white sundress, she smiled brightly. “Sister, surprise!” I instinctively turned around. The gazes of all three wolf shifters were entirely glued to her. I quietly turned back. Honestly, I was used to it. Everyone always preferred Sabrina. She was radiant and charming, effortlessly drawing everyone’s attention. Compared to her, I was just wooden and ordinary. Sabrina looked around. “Sister, your place is nowhere near as big as the mansion. Is there even enough room for them to move around?” I paused. “It’s fine, I guess.” Then, I watched Hunter, who had always been aloof and careless, fix his gaze entirely on Sabrina. Chase was still wearing his breathtakingly seductive smile, but that smile was now directed solely at her. Even Ryder, who usually had a terrible temper, propped his head on his hand and stared at her, his wolf ears twitching rapidly. And Sabrina acted as if she didn’t notice a thing, innocently sipping her water. At that very moment, I knew. My things were going to dutifully march over to Sabrina’s side. Again. After that day. The gentle, affectionate intimacy vanished. They became more vicious each time, acting as if they wanted me to die in that bed. Until I heard their conversation with my own ears. I hadn’t guessed wrong. They really had fallen for Sabrina, even after just one meeting. 3 Afternoon came quickly. There was a knock on the door; Sabrina had arrived. The apartment, which had been dead silent all afternoon, felt even more suffocating. “I mean,” Hunter leaned against the wall, sizing me up with intense aggression, seemingly in disbelief. “You’re really going to give all three of us to her?” I gave a simple “Mm.” Chase smiled and asked, “Not even keeping one for yourself?” I countered, “Do any of you want to stay and keep me company?” The atmosphere froze again. No one answered. Finally, it was Ryder who stood up to open the door. The young man rolled his eyes dismissively, a sneer playing on his lips. “Stop acting like the good guy.” When the door opened, Sabrina’s bright, cheerful smile greeted us. “Hi guys! My sister already told you, right? You all belong to me now.” Ryder laughed recklessly, leaning in close. “Hello there, my new master.” Sabrina looked him over with satisfaction, then scanned Chase and Hunter. “You guys are gorgeous,” she praised genuinely. “Are your bags packed?” Sabrina asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind, you don’t need to pack. I’m sure my sister couldn’t afford to buy you anything good anyway. When we get to the mansion, I’ll buy you entirely new wardrobes.” Hunter gave a lazy hum of agreement. Chase looked at Sabrina, then glanced back at me. I showed no emotion. For a moment, all eyes fell on me. Noticing this, Sabrina walked up to me. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll definitely take better care of them than you did. Once you’re done playing around, just go home and accept the marriage alliance. Stop making Mom and Dad worry.” “Marriage alliance? What marriage?” Chase asked thoughtfully. Sabrina didn’t elaborate. Seeing that I still had no reaction, she offered with a show of fake kindness, “How about you guys leave one person behind to keep my sister company? She looks pretty sad.” Ryder stood next to her, refusing to move. Hunter leaned lazily against the wall, and Chase just wore a callous smirk. No one volunteered. Sabrina wasn’t surprised. She shot me a comforting smile. Between her and me, I was never the one chosen. We were both used to that. “Where is he?” I asked. As the words fell, Sabrina subtly froze, then called out the door, “Come in.” The sound of heavy footsteps approached. A man walked in slowly. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his posture rigid and cold. The next second, I locked eyes with a pair of dark, brooding pupils. I pursed my lips and greeted him, “Hello.” His gaze looked down at me from above, carrying a slippery, dark scrutiny unique to serpents. I broke out in goosebumps. He didn’t acknowledge me. Sabrina glanced at him. “He just has this kind of temper. Sister, if you really can’t handle him, just tell me and I’ll take him back.” “Who is this?” Ryder asked suddenly. Sabrina clearly didn’t want to explain, and I didn’t know how to start either. She smiled and changed the subject. “The driver is waiting downstairs. Shall we go?” They fell silent for a moment, didn’t ask any more questions, and followed Sabrina out with their long strides. The snake shifter stood frozen in place. He stayed behind. Just as I was about to close the front door. Chase looked back at me, his emotions unreadable. Meanwhile, the dark pupils of the man standing beside me suddenly contracted, transforming into cold, golden vertical slits. A smooth snake tail instantly wrapped around my waist. A bizarre, intoxicating scent exploded, filling the room in an instant. I pushed against him in panic, but it was useless. “You… you’re in heat…!” I was pressed hard against the door with a heavy thud. But thanks to his snake tail acting as a cushion, it didn’t hurt. I felt his breath brush against my neck, sending shivers across my skin. The next second, there was an urgent knock on the heavy front door. Chase’s voice came from outside. “Vivian? Are you okay?” As the words fell, my fingers twitched. The pale golden vertical slits of the man I was making eye contact with seemed to grow even darker, and his grip on my waist tightened. I didn’t choose to open the door. Instead, I struggled to reach up, touched his ice-cold cheek, and forced the words out: “Is it… really uncomfortable? I’ll get you a suppressant, okay?” The heavy, oppressive aura around us paused. Even the potent scent of his heat stopped intensifying. A few more knocks on the door. It was giving me a headache. Sabrina asked hesitantly, “Sister, is everything okay in there?” Thinking I had managed to soothe him, I let out a sigh of relief. Just as I was about to speak… A sudden chill on my neck. He bit me. It wasn’t gentle; it felt like a predator locking onto its prey, yet it carried a strange, lingering intimacy. I let out a muffled groan. My voice sounded a bit detached: “Nothing’s wrong… you guys can go.” “Are you sure?” Hunter asked lazily. I replied, “Mhm…” “She said she’s fine,” Ryder’s impatient voice rang out. He paused, then asked, “Vivian, that snake didn’t hit you, did he?” “No…” I bit my lower lip. After my neck was bitten, it was being licked by an ice-cold tongue. Thank god the door was closed in time, so the scent didn’t leak out. The sound of footsteps gradually faded away. I shoved the snake shifter away, not daring to look at his tail, and scrambled to find the suppressants. This was what I used to inject Hunter and the others with when they went into heat—before things escalated. I still had plenty left over. I threw the suppressant to him, then frantically went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. 4 When I returned to the living room. His snake tail was gone. The man was leaning against the sofa, his long legs crossed, his expression back to its cold, gloomy state. He lifted his eyelids and glanced at me. I was a bit confused. “Are you… platonic?” His voice was hoarse. “This is a normal physiological reaction. It’s been too long since my last suppressant.” “Oh, okay.” Honestly, given Sabrina’s personality, if she really wanted to sleep with him, she absolutely wouldn’t have given him suppressants. Seeing how he acted just now, it didn’t seem like he could hold it in either, so how had he been coping all this time? But since he didn’t want to explain, I wasn’t going to press the issue. I poured a glass of warm water and handed it to him. “You should just rest today. You can help me with chores tomorrow. If you haven’t fully recovered, you can rest a few more days, that’s fine too…” He interrupted me. “Were you like this with them too?” I froze. Them? Did he mean Hunter and the others? I stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. Even though society pushed for equality between humans and shifters, because of the shifters’ natural instinct to imprint on a master, humans were encouraged to be more accommodating toward them. A long silence followed. “My name is Silas.” The deep, calm voice finally broke the quiet. I snapped back to reality and gave him a bright smile. “Hi there, I’m Vivian.” He stood up and walked toward the balcony without showing any emotion. My pupils shrank. “Your bedroom is over there. Wait, are you trying to jump off the balcony? If you really hate it here, I can have Sabrina come pick you up…” I hurriedly followed him. Only to see him bend over, open the washing machine, and pull out the freshly washed clothes, piece by piece. He was hanging my laundry. Chase had put my clothes in the washer this morning. But he left without taking them out. Watching Silas’s long, elegant fingers holding my clothes, I scratched my cheek. “Once I buy a dryer in a few days, you won’t have to hang them anymore.” Silas didn’t say a word. 5 Unfortunately, before I could buy a dryer, an unexpected guest arrived the very next day. The butler from the Caldwell estate stood respectfully at my door. “Miss, the Master says since you’ve had your fun, it’s time to come home and accept the marriage alliance.” His tone left no room for negotiation. I refused. “No.” The butler smiled. “Miss, this is the will of both the Master and the Madam.” With that, several bodyguards appeared behind him. I scoffed coldly. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take a knife to the groom on the wedding day and then kill myself?” The butler’s face stiffened. He recovered quickly. “The Master said that if you are willing to marry, you will receive five percent of the Caldwell Group shares.” My hand, which had been ready to slam the door, paused. The butler seemed to expect my reaction. “The car is already waiting downstairs. By the way, the Second Miss said you should bring Mr. Silas with you as well.” I looked back at Silas and met his gaze. His dark eyes were still completely devoid of emotion. But for some reason, a chill ran down my spine. 6 Back at the Caldwell estate. The massive first floor was empty except for Hunter, Chase, and Ryder. The atmosphere was incredibly awkward. Ryder put down his game controller, raised his eyes, and scanned me and Silas standing behind me. Hunter drawled lazily, “Why are you here?” “It’s my own house. Can’t I come back?” After I snapped back at him, Hunter’s expression didn’t change; in fact, the smirk on his lips seemed to deepen. Me: “…?” Chase put down the fruit platter he was arranging and walked slowly toward me. He affectionately lifted my chin: “Sabrina said you absolutely refused to come home. Now you suddenly change your mind. Did you miss us?” I took a step back, just about to speak. But Ryder cut me off with a cold snort. “Do you even have to ask? She can’t last a single day without us.” From behind me, Silas spoke, his voice completely devoid of warmth. “She doesn’t look heartbroken to me.” Hunter suddenly glared up. “What the hell are you?” I immediately felt a surge of vicious energy. I quickly did what I had done the day before, pressing my hand over Silas’s ice-cold fingers, trying to soothe him. Wolves and snakes are both highly aggressive apex predators. If they actually started fighting, the consequences would be disastrous. Chase’s voice dragged out, carrying a hint of mockery: “Are you trying to use him to make us jealous?” “Snakes are cold-blooded animals. And Sabrina said this particular snake is extreme; he has absolutely no emotions,” Ryder sneered. “You don’t actually think you can thaw him out, do you?” Suddenly. Chase gripped my chin, his fingers digging in hard. He stared dead at my neck—specifically, the spot where Silas had bitten me yesterday. His voice dropped like a stone: “What is this? A hickey?” That single sentence sent ripples through the room. Ryder leaned forward on his elbows, smirking as he walked over. “Hah? What the hell is that?” The next second, I was yanked behind an ice-cold back. Silas flashed a remarkably cold smile and spat out a single, freezing word: “Get lost.” Chase’s face darkened instantly. “What did you say?” The tension was ready to explode. Right at that moment, Sabrina walked down from the second floor, smiling sweetly. “I heard your voices all the way upstairs. What are you guys talking about?” I knew exactly how she operated, so I spoke calmly. “They think this mark on my neck is a hickey. They don’t seem very happy about it and wanted to inspect it.” Sure enough, the smile on Sabrina’s face faltered. Her gaze locked onto my neck. “…So, is it?” Her eyes darted rapidly between me and Silas. “What do you think?” I didn’t answer; I just threw the question back at her. Sabrina didn’t reply. The air in the room solidified. Hunter took a long stride forward, his hands in his pockets, sweeping a careless gaze over me. “You always hated showing off marks like that. Why the sudden change of heart today?” …Probably because I didn’t actually consider it a hickey. His comment seemed to awaken the others. Ryder realized it too. “Yeah, exactly. You used to cover up completely.” Chase’s sharp eyes narrowed. Sabrina pursed her lips and turned to me. “Sister, Father is calling for you in his study.” Then she pointed a finger at Silas. “He doesn’t need to follow you upstairs.” I gently pulled my hand from Silas’s grip and paused. I looked back. “Don’t bully him.” “We? Bully him?” Ryder enunciated every word, laughing in disbelief. “Vivian, in your eyes…” Before he could finish, I turned and walked away. Leaving dead silence behind me. 7 “You’ll get the marriage license first, then we’ll hold the wedding,” my father said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of tea. “Once everything is set in stone, I will transfer the five percent of shares to you.” I didn’t hesitate, speaking calmly. “The moment I sign the marriage certificate, I want those shares.” He slammed his teacup down heavily. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled in anger. “You have that little trust in your own family?” I sighed, speaking with total sincerity. “I’m just terrified that Sabrina will bat her eyelashes and whine, and suddenly my things will be gone again.” My words hit a sore spot. His expression remained stormy for a moment, but he finally relented: “When the time comes, bring your marriage certificate and your husband to see me.” This proved exactly how much value my arranged marriage would bring them. And— Saying he was giving the shares to me was actually a way of showing loyalty to my soon-to-be, unseen fiancé. Because assets gifted after a marriage are legally considered joint property, meaning the spouse has a claim to half. I didn’t argue. I just gave a “Mm,” and stood up to leave. “You will stay at this house for the time being. No running around. And you need to cut ties completely with those shifters before the wedding!” His authoritative voice echoed behind me. 8 When I returned to the first floor, the atmosphere was still incredibly tense. I ignored them and walked straight to Silas. “I’ll show you around my room.” I also had something I needed to tell him. Ryder looked over suspiciously. “Haven’t you been gone from this house for ages? What’s there to show off in your room?” I smiled. “Why, do you want a tour too?” “Who said I wanted a tour?” Ryder snapped back instantly, then scoffed and turned his head away. Sabrina was eating from a fruit platter. She cast a subtle glance at Silas. “Father is home. It’s not very appropriate.” I looked confused. “You have three shifters around you, and I’m just taking one back to my room. Why is that inappropriate?” Sabrina’s expression tightened. Hunter frowned slightly. “We never…” Sabrina put the fruit platter down with a sharp clink. “Sister, you make a good point. But it also depends on whether Silas is willing.” For a moment, all eyes turned to the man whose face showed absolutely no emotion. Silas slightly parted his thin lips. “Let’s go.” I nodded, signaling him to follow me. As for the reactions of the people behind me, I couldn’t care less. … My room was decorated in a minimalist white. There was no dust; it was clearly cleaned regularly. I cleared my throat, just about to speak. The air in the room suddenly shifted. Before I could even react, something wrapped around my waist again… A snake tail. “Your scent… it’s so strong in here.” His voice was incredibly raspy. I was in shock. “I haven’t lived here in forever! Is it really that strong?!” His sharp teeth scraped lightly against my collarbone. A dangerous aura spread through the room. I was genuinely terrified he was going to eat me alive. I took a deep breath. “You just took a suppressant yesterday, right?” This didn’t feel right. The snake tail constricted, locking me tightly against his chest. I struggled to speak. “…I brought you upstairs to tell you that I really am getting married.” But Silas didn’t let me go like I expected. Instead, his tail lifted me up and tossed me onto the bed. He loomed over me, his narrow eyes radiating a dark, eerie intensity. Then, his tail slipped under the hem of my shirt. I instinctively grabbed it, quickly looking away. He narrowed his eyes darkly. “Do you hate me?” “Huh? Not really…” “Aren’t you my master?” he leaned down slightly, his voice so soft it was unnerving, mixed with a cruel confusion. “Or… are you afraid?” Shadows enveloped me. …I was definitely a little terrified. First off, it’s widely known that snakes are naturally lustful, and snake shifters are even worse. If Sabrina wasn’t lying and he really was platonic, I definitely shouldn’t provoke him. Secondly… In certain aspects, it was just too extreme. I sighed. “But I really do have to get married… So I might have to give you back to Sabrina. She won’t be getting married anytime soon.” Silas finally reacted. Just as a flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes, I asked softly: “Do you want to? To go back to Sabrina?” Silas looked down, meeting my gaze. A slow smile spread across his face: “Does being by your side cause you pain?” I paused. “No, you actually have a pretty good sense of doing household chores.” Wait. Why did the topic jump back to this? The next second. He leaned down, his shadow completely covering me: “Then don’t ever think about getting rid of me.” I stayed silent for a moment, then gently stroked his tail. Finally. He spoke in a ghostly tone: “Don’t worry.” Don’t worry? What was I supposed to not worry about? I shook my head internally. I already had a plan. 9 A few days later, in a private room at a cafe. I calmly took a sip of my coffee. I looked at the man sitting across from me and got straight to the point: “I know you like Sabrina.” The man looked at me in surprise and put his phone away. “I also know you’ve been proposing to my family just to get Sabrina to marry you. Unfortunately, they used the ‘older sister must marry first’ tradition as an excuse to brush you off.” The man smiled nonchalantly. “Anyone would prefer your sister over you, wouldn’t they?” He paused, then let out a cold laugh. “Your sister isn’t entirely uninterested in me. But she said because you like me so much, she didn’t want to fight you for me.” I smiled slightly. “Is that so? I have a way to get you exactly what you want.” The man looked stunned. “What way?” “We get a fake marriage certificate, and then you come home with me. Since you said my sister likes you, if she sees us together, she’ll definitely be jealous, right?” I laid out my plan smoothly. He hesitated. “What?” “People only know how to cherish something once they’ve lost it. When the time comes, be a little affectionate with me. If she sees it with her own eyes, it’ll definitely break her heart.” I continued, “Then, at our grand wedding, I will completely disappear. With the bride missing, my sister won’t be able to bear seeing you humiliated. She will inevitably step up and take my place. “Then you tell her that she’s the one you’ve always deeply loved. Have a special diamond ring ready just for her. She’ll be incredibly moved.” The man’s eyes shifted, the tension in his face slowly relaxing. He murmured, “…You know, that makes a lot of sense.” I pulled out a tissue and dabbed at imaginary tears in the corners of my eyes. “Honestly, I know that even if I marry you, I wouldn’t be happy. You like Sabrina so much, and she likes you. I’d rather see you two find happiness.” After a long while, the man stood up, reached out his hand, and spoke with newfound respect: “Miss Caldwell, I never expected you to be so generous and kind-hearted. I completely misunderstood you before.” I shook his hand. “As long as you two are happy.” 10 The day I brought the fake marriage certificate and my fake husband home. Everyone in the Caldwell family sat at the dining table, their expressions varied. By now, the news of the marriage alliance had completely spread. I cast a reassuring glance at Silas; he was expressionless. But I could already feel his uncontainable, violent aura and dark energy. It didn’t matter. Once the dust settled, I would integrate him into the next phase of my plan. I gave Silas a comforting smile from across the room. He glanced at me, then looked away, his emotions unreadable. When I went to the kitchen to help bring out the food, Chase was leisurely washing his hands nearby. He said, “You don’t like him.” “Who?” “Your husband.” Chase smiled brightly. “Vivian, beg me, and I’ll help you run away from the wedding.” I shot him a glance. He clarified, “Don’t worry, they agree too.” “They” meant Hunter and Ryder. No wonder their faces looked so terrible today. Chase’s voice was seductive, yet carried a sense of superiority: “You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with a man you don’t even like, do you?” I turned to leave. “None of your business.” “You’ll regret this, Vivian.” The voice behind me turned freezing cold. Regret? Would I regret it? I chuckled inwardly. After dinner, Sabrina was happily chatting with my fake husband, radiating charm. I went alone to the study and signed the equity transfer agreement. Next week was the highly anticipated, grand wedding. And the real show was just beginning— 11 Over the next few days, I relaxed and went about my pre-wedding preparations, picking out jewelry. A heavy cloud of low pressure hung over the Caldwell estate. Even Sabrina, who usually maintained a facade of harmony with me, came over to mock me. “I didn’t think five percent of the shares would make you surrender so easily.” I showed no reaction. She seemed even angrier, letting out a cold laugh. “Do you know how many shares I’ll get in the future? When Father dies, it will all be mine.” Me: …? I turned my head and gave her a long look. She looked satisfied. “Jealous?” What an incredibly filial daughter, I thought to myself. Ryder remained deadpan. “Self-destructive.” Chase nodded in agreement. Hunter lazily scrolled on his phone, noncommittal. Self-destructive? Are they talking about me? But I didn’t care about their reactions. I focused entirely on Silas’s response. He didn’t look as gloomy as I imagined. He simply lifted his eyelids, his eyes as dark and deep as a bottomless pool meeting mine. It was only then that I realized with a start—when those eyes weren’t filled with darkness and malice, they were actually stunningly beautiful. Thin, slightly upturned at the corners, carrying a hint of careless laziness.

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In the book, I was the kind-hearted adoptive mother who took in two orphaned sisters and nurtured the older one into a master pianist. Once she achieved fame and fortune, she publicly claimed that being adopted by me robbed her of her childhood, leaving her with nothing but endless piano practice. Overnight, I became the most despised “monster mother” on the internet. After I died in a car crash, those two sisters drove my biological daughter to suicide and stole my entire fortune. The day I transmigrated into this book, I was at the orphanage looking for a playmate for my daughter. The “prodigy” girl stared at me stubbornly. “Ma’am, if you don’t adopt my sister too, I won’t go with you.” “Then stay here,” I said coldly. 01 After I rejected her, Bella clenched her little sister Mia’s hand, staring at me with pleading eyes. I glanced at Mia, then looked back at Bella. “Your last name is Smith, and hers is Jones. You aren’t real sisters, are you?” Bella immediately took a half-step forward, shielding Mia completely. “Ma’am, Mia looks up to me like a big sister.” Losing her earlier defiance, she softened her voice, “Please, adopt both of us!” “Mommy.” Mia ran out from behind Bella and hugged my waist. “Please! Take us with you!” I didn’t respond. Bella’s eyes darted around, then landed on my biological daughter, Melody, standing beside me. “Melody, didn’t you want a friend to play with?” “Mia and I can play with you. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Melody clutched the hem of my shirt tightly, her lips pressed together. In the book, Melody was obedient and quiet. As she grew up, she was bullied and driven to a mental breakdown by these “good sisters,” eventually fleeing the state. It wasn’t until my husband and I died in a car crash that Melody rushed back for one last look. But she was blocked at the funeral home by Bella’s people. Mia pointed her finger at Melody’s nose and screamed in front of everyone: “You never came back while Mom and Dad were alive!” “Now you come back pretending to be a dutiful daughter? You just want to fight for the inheritance!” Right now, they were acting sweet and innocent, but the moment I adopted them, they would team up to target Melody. I looked at the two kids and remained silent. The director hurriedly told the staff to take them outside. “Mrs. Miller, these two are very close. They just don’t want to be separated.” The director smiled apologetically at me. “I’ll go talk to them. Bella is a sensible girl. She’ll go with you.” I wasn’t the original host of this body; I could see right through Bella’s manipulation. All she had to do was flap her lips, and boom—she’d drag Mia along with her, securing a loyal henchwoman in my house. Even better, by making the director “persuade” her, she would look like she was forced to accept the adoption, earning a reputation as a selfless, devoted sister. “Director, forget it!” I glanced at Bella, who was hiding outside the door. “I originally came here to find a companion for my daughter. “If we forcibly separate those two, the one I adopt will harbor resentment. She’ll just end up bullying my daughter in the future.” The director’s face changed slightly. “How could that be!” “The fact that Bella made that request proves she’s a deeply loyal child! If you’re good to her, I’m sure she’ll repay you when she grows up!” “Repay?” I patted Melody’s head. “I have my own child. I didn’t come here looking for a return on investment.” In the book, I threw endless money and resources at Bella, turning her into a master pianist. I also set Mia up with a glamorous corporate job. And the result? Once they became successful, they completely forgot about me, their adoptive mother. We lived in the same city, yet they never visited or even called. During an interview, Bella publicly declared that her childhood under my supervision was nothing but endless, joyless piano practice. Overnight, I became the internet’s most hated “monster mother.” To clear our heads, my husband and I drove out to see Melody, but we got into a car accident and both died. After our deaths, Bella and Mia immediately returned to fight Melody for the estate, teaming up to drive her to suicide. Thinking of this, I didn’t want to stay another second. I took Melody’s hand and left. I really wanted to see how high those two sisters could climb without my resources. 02 When we got home, my husband, Arthur Miller, looked past Melody and me, searching behind us. “Where is she?” “Weren’t you going to pick up that girl? Why is it just you two?” I bent down to take off my shoes. “She didn’t want to come.” “Impossible!” Arthur blurted out. “I had an agreement with her.” I looked up at him. Arthur was a renowned pianist. He was obsessed with finding a prodigy to inherit his legacy. He had forced Melody onto a piano bench before she was even three years old. Now ten, the tips of her fingers were covered in thick calluses, but all she ever got from him was a dismissive, “You have no soul.” This trip to the orphanage was supposedly to find a playmate for Melody, but it was actually to adopt Bella, whom Arthur had his eye on. Last week, he had performed at a charity event at the orphanage. After he finished a piece, Bella, who had been standing in the corner, stepped forward and played it back almost perfectly. She only missed three notes. Arthur’s eyes lit up instantly. “Do you want to be my student?” Bella nodded eagerly, but then nervously mentioned that kids at the orphanage weren’t allowed to just leave whenever they wanted. That night, Arthur came home and said to me, “Melody is too lonely. Let’s adopt a kid to keep her company.” When I read the book, I didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he wanted an apprentice. Instead, he used Melody as a constant foil for Bella, comparing them until Melody was so bitterly disappointed in this family that she left. Since he was still lying to me, I played dumb. “The girl said so herself.” “Unless we take her ‘sister’ from the orphanage too, she absolutely refuses to come with us.” Arthur froze. I looked displeased. “I originally agreed to adopt a child because I thought you were too strict with Melody, and I wanted her to have a friend. “But if that girl insists on bringing someone else, what happens when they team up to bully Melody?” “Don’t assume the worst of people.” Arthur brushed it off. “It’s just an extra kid! Taking them both back is no big deal. It’s just another mouth to feed.” “Adopting a child isn’t like shopping at a buy-one-get-one-free sale!” I glared at him. “Arthur, I do not agree to adopting those two girls.” Arthur stared at me like I was a stranger. At that moment, a cold little hand gently grabbed mine. Melody was trembling slightly. I squeezed her hand tightly and turned to lead her upstairs. 03 The next day, I was wearing an apron, cooking in the kitchen. Arthur came home, followed by a skinny little figure. It was Bella. She peeked at me timidly and whispered, “Auntie.” I didn’t respond, staring straight at Arthur. He patted her shoulder and said gently, “Bella, this is your home from now on.” Only then did he look at me. “This kid has a gift for music. It would be a tragedy not to nurture it, so I brought her home.” “So, saying you wanted to find a playmate for Melody was a lie?” I slammed my kitchen knife onto the counter. “Is it really that hard to just admit you wanted an apprentice?” “What did you want me to say?” Arthur’s face darkened. “Did you want me to tell you that your biological daughter has zero talent? You would have just thrown a fit.” “Why would I throw a fit?” I scoffed. “You didn’t pass your musical genes down to your daughter. Shouldn’t you reflect on yourself first?” In the book, Arthur always blamed me for Melody’s lack of musical talent. If he wanted to gaslight me now, I was going to throw it right back in his face. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you looking at? Did I make this kid by myself?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Since you look down on Melody so much, starting today, she doesn’t need to practice piano anymore.” “Nonsense! She’s been practicing for years. How can she just quit?!” “Didn’t you say she had no soul?” I picked up the knife and aggressively smashed a clove of garlic. “Now that you have a star pupil, do you just want my daughter sitting there as a prop to make her look better?” Arthur’s face turned pale. “What the hell are you talking about?! I would never use Melody as a prop.” “Auntie, I don’t have to learn piano from Mr. Miller.” Bella quickly chimed in from the side. “I just want a place to eat in this house. That’s all.” Before Arthur could promise her anything, I stared him down. “If you force Melody to keep practicing piano, this kid is not stepping foot in this house.” “Choose.” 04 Arthur chose to keep Bella. When Melody came home from school and found out she didn’t have to practice piano anymore, her eyes lit up. Then, she looked at Bella. “Are you going to change your last name to Miller?” Bella immediately shook her head. “I’m keeping my mom’s last name. It’s the only thing I have left of her.” “Keeping your mother’s maiden name, huh.” I glanced at Arthur. The book mentioned that his first love was also a Smith. “It’s just a last name. It doesn’t matter,” Arthur interjected smoothly. Bella looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Dad.” I studied them. Their facial features weren’t particularly similar. But just in case, I took hair samples from both of them and secretly sent them for a paternity test. The results came back exactly as I suspected: they were not biologically related. I put the report in my bag and went home. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Mia’s shrill voice from the living room. “I’ll hit you, you hear me?!” I didn’t alert them. I stood in the entryway and watched Mia point aggressively at Melody. “If it wasn’t for putting Bella in a tough spot, I would’ve ripped your face off!” “You broke my stuff, and now you’re trying to hit me?” Melody was shaking with anger. “What ‘your stuff’? Since Mr. Miller adopted Bella, this is her house too!” “Alright, stop arguing.” Bella intervened softly, turning to Melody. “Sister, I didn’t know that doll was yours. I saw Mia liked it, so I let her play with it.” “Before you guys came here, I was the only child in this house.” Melody fought back tears. “If the doll isn’t mine, whose could it be?” “You’re just jealous that Mr. Miller is teaching Bella piano.” Mia suddenly shoved Melody hard. “Who cares about your stupid doll! It’s your fault you don’t have any talent!” With that, she threw the doll on the floor and aggressively stomped on it with her shoe. Melody fell to the floor. Red-eyed, she tried to scramble up to hit Mia, but Mia kicked her leg, tripping her again. I rushed over and pulled Melody up. Seeing me, she threw herself into my arms and burst into tears. In the book, because she was afraid of causing arguments between Arthur and me, she always swallowed the abuse silently. The two “sisters” purposely bullied her when I wasn’t looking, and even set up traps to make it look like Melody was the one bullying them. Mia panicked when she saw me. When she realized what was happening, she tried to hug me. “Mom! You’re back!” “Don’t call me that.” I shoved her away. “Since when do I have a daughter like you?” Mia stumbled and hit the living room wall, bursting into loud, obnoxious tears. 05 Arthur came out of his study and looked at Melody. “What’s all this noise?” I sneered. “So you are home!” “Those two teamed up to bully Melody, and you’re deaf?!” Arthur’s face darkened. “Watch your tone.” “Melody is an only child; she doesn’t know how to share. Both of these kids are younger than her. What’s wrong with letting them have their way?” I walked over and slapped him hard across the face. Then, I raised my leg and kicked him to the floor. He groaned in pain, unable to get up for a long moment. The three kids were stunned. Bella and Mia covered their mouths in terror. Melody snapped out of it and tried to go help him. “Don’t.” I stopped Melody. “Save yourself the trouble before your confused dad takes his anger out on you.” I pulled the paternity test report out of my bag and threw it at Arthur. “Anyone else would think Bella was your biological daughter.” “Your actual daughter gets bullied by two orphans right in front of you, and you take their side?” Arthur looked down and flipped open the report. A few seconds later, his head snapped up, his face even more furious. “Avery! Have you lost your mind?!” “This paper says Bella and I have no biological relation!” “You did this behind my back? Do you have any respect for me?!” “Respect? I didn’t agree to adopt Bella, but you brought her home anyway.” I pointed at the terrified Mia. “And while I was out, you brought another one back.” “She pointed right at Melody’s face and called her talentless, saying she deserved to be ignored by you! And you hid in your study.” “Arthur, since the day I married you, what have I ever done to cause you stress?” “But you? Besides calling your daughter stupid and useless, what have you ever done?” “If it wasn’t for you constantly belittling her, do you think these two orphaned girls, who haven’t even been in this house for a minute, would dare to trample all over her?!” Arthur’s pupils shrank. Bella’s face turned pale, and she bit her lip, terrified to make a sound. Melody stood beside me, trembling at first. But as she listened to my words, she slowly straightened her back, looking at her father with a quiet, almost unfamiliar gaze. I pulled out the divorce papers I had drafted earlier and placed them on the coffee table. “Sign it.” “There’s no place for my daughter and me in this house anymore.” “Keep your precious prodigy and your pitiful orphan. I’m taking my daughter.” I grabbed the luggage I had packed earlier and led Melody toward the door. Arthur scrambled up from the floor, roaring, “Avery! Are you using divorce to force me to send Bella away?” “Mia is just here as a guest! I haven’t filed any adoption papers for her!” Seeing that I didn’t stop, he raised his voice. “It’s easy for you to take Melody now, but it won’t be so easy to support her on your own!” I looked back at him. “Arthur, I’m not asking for a divorce to force you to send anyone away.” “I actually want a divorce.” He froze, looking like he didn’t understand. I didn’t explain further. I held Melody’s hand and walked out the door. 06 I walked away from the Miller house with Melody, never looking back. She was very quiet the whole way, her small hand tightly gripping the hem of my shirt. It wasn’t until I brought her into the apartment I had rented that she looked up and gently hugged me. “Mom.” She sounded anxious. “Did you really divorce Dad just for me?” I knelt down and looked into her eyes. “Not just for you. For both of us.” “A home shouldn’t make you feel like you have to hold your breath.” I smoothed her hair. “Mom just wants to watch you grow up happily. You can become whatever you want. If you don’t like something, that’s perfectly fine.” She buried her face in my chest and softly called me “Mom.” In the book, Arthur was also a pawn. He exhausted all his energy turning Bella into a star, only to be stabbed in the back. After transmigrating, I had considered changing his fate. But he stubbornly insisted on adopting Bella, and today, he sat in the house while those girls bullied Melody. It made me realize that not all storylines can be completely overturned. I didn’t consider telling Arthur the original plot. If he thought I was crazy and threw me in a psych ward, my transmigration would be pointless. Leaving that house—even though my bank account was low—I knew that my knowledge of the plot would allow me to give Melody a great life. 07 A few days later, Melody came home from school, her eyes shining as she looked at me. “Mom.” Her voice carried a rare chirp of excitement. “My music teacher said I sing really well.” “She also said she wants to recommend me for the city vocal competition.” “What do we need to prepare?” I asked with a smile. She instinctively pressed her lips together and gripped her shirt—her nervous habit. “But.” Her voice dropped. “Dad always said I didn’t inherit his musical talent.” “What if I don’t win an award?” I patted her head. “It’s about participating!” “Besides, you already passed your Level 10 piano certification this year.” “Melody, it’s not that you don’t have musical talent.” “It’s that your dad’s standards are too narrow. If your music teacher wants to recommend you for a competition, she definitely sees your strengths.” She looked at me, her eyes slowly turning red, and nodded firmly. That night, after watching TV, I walked past Melody’s room and heard singing. I leaned against the wall outside, not going in to disturb her. Even if a child truly has talent, if they are never seen or validated by the people closest to them, they will be like a dusty crystal, slowly losing their light. That light might be hidden in a hesitant, cautious attempt, or in a warm, encouraging smile. A parent’s eyes shouldn’t be those of a judge. They should be the first ones clapping for their child. 08 Five years after my divorce from Arthur, my stock investments paid off. Not only did I buy a luxury condo, but I also opened a flower shop. Melody won the city vocal competition championship back then and got into a top-tier high school. Afraid of Bella’s “main character” plot armor bouncing back, I enrolled Melody in MMA classes. She grew taller, more confident, and vibrant. She was no longer the little girl who shrank back when her father called her useless. I occasionally thought about the insecure Melody from the book. She wasn’t untalented; her father was just too eager for her to succeed, and her mother blindly followed his lead. Add in the two “sisters” trying to steal her adoptive parents, and they constantly smothered her light. I never planned on seeing Bella again. Until she pushed open the door of my flower shop and walked in timidly. The fifteen-year-old girl actually looked more haggard than Melody, who was currently a high school senior. She was swimming in an old, oversized coat I had left behind years ago. The cuffs were frayed. “Auntie.” She approached me cautiously. “Mr. Miller misses you and Melody a lot. When are you going to come home and visit him?” “Does he not have a mouth, or does he not have legs?” I snipped a flower stem. “You’re the one who wants me to come back, aren’t you? After all, living with a man who only cares about music can’t be easy.” “Auntie, I admit I was greedy back then. I wanted Mia to have a home too. “I figured adopting two of us was just adding an extra plate to the table for you. I never expected you to divorce him.” “Did you come here today to criticize me?” I put down the shears and looked at her. “No.” Bella shook her head frantically. “It’s been five years, and Mr. Miller still can’t get used to my cooking.” I stared at the cracked shoes on her feet, realizing that Arthur only cared about having a talented prodigy; he completely neglected their actual care. In the book, whenever I bought something for Melody, I bought the exact same thing for Bella. I also gave her an allowance every month. But after I left, Arthur’s world fell apart. After the divorce, he threw himself entirely into his music and didn’t care about the household at all. Forget about food and clothes—he didn’t even know how to pay the utility bills. Five years ago, when I left with Melody, he was certain I’d come crawling back begging him. Instead, I bought a house, opened a business, and thrived. He had tried to reconcile with a condescending attitude, but I rejected him. I heard later that he dumped all the household chores onto Bella, who was only eight at the time. But what did her miserable life have to do with me? I definitely didn’t want that mess back. “Didn’t Arthur adopt Mia?” I rejected her directly. “You got your wish. And now you want to guilt-trip me into coming back to take care of you?” “No, I just…” “Don’t come back.” I pointed at the door. “My divorce has nothing to do with him adopting you.” Bella looked at me, full of grievance. “But you came to the orphanage to adopt me back then. “Are you saying you hate me just because I suggested adopting Mia too?” She looked down. “When I said that back then, I just wanted to look like a kind-hearted kid.” Even now, Bella was still trying to guilt-trip me. “A truly kind kid doesn’t put others in a difficult position.” I smiled and patted her head. “Go back. Don’t let Arthur worry about you.”

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On our anniversary, my wife’s “surprise” turned out to be a green hat—a symbol of ultimate betrayal. Laughter erupted around us, yet her voice was eerily calm. “I’m pregnant. The child isn’t yours.” Cole Penn smugly wrapped his arm around her waist, his eyes glinting with defiance. “You’re a cripple; you obviously can’t do the deed. Just be a good little cuckold.” But what they didn’t know was that I was only pretending to be paralyzed to unmask the mole within the corporation. The mole hadn’t revealed themselves yet. Instead, I’d stumbled upon two clueless fools. 1 I smirked coldly. Then I backhanded them with the bankruptcy liquidation papers for the Lennox family’s holdings. Cole picked up the papers, glanced at them, then burst into a thunderous laugh. “Leo Lutz, are you out of your mind? Did you pay a few bucks for some fake documents and hire some actors to try and scare us?” Charlotte Lennox recovered from her shock, let out a long breath, and patted her chest. “Leo Lutz, you are truly a pathetic clown.” Charlotte pointed her finger at my nose and unleashed a torrent of abuse. “You’re a useless cripple who’s been paralyzed for two years, needing help even to relieve yourself! Where did you get the money to hire bodyguards? Bankruptcy liquidation? Do you think you’re the wealthiest man in the city?” I watched them, saying nothing. The front door slammed open again with a loud crash. My uncle, Robert Lutz, stormed in with dozens of thugs wielding iron pipes. “Get these annoying people out of my house!” Uncle Robert’s men immediately moved, swinging their iron pipes at the bodyguards I’d hired. My bodyguards retreated, leaving only Uncle Robert, Charlotte, Cole, and me in the living room. “Leo Lutz, you disappoint me greatly.” Uncle Robert walked up to my wheelchair, looking down at me. “You’re not just a cripple, your mind’s gone too. How can the Lutz Corporation be handed over to someone like you?” “Uncle Robert, what do you mean?” I stared at him. “I declare your last five percent of Lutz Corporation shares null and void.” Uncle Robert pulled out a stock transfer agreement and slapped it on the table. “Sign it.” Charlotte snatched the transfer agreement and slapped it directly onto my lap. “Sign it now!” Charlotte hissed. “You’re nothing now. Just accept your fate. The Lutz Corporation already belongs to Uncle Robert and Cole!” Cole wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s waist and kissed her right in front of me. “Leo, Charlotte’s baby needs formula money.” Cole looked at me provocatively. “If you hand over your shares, I’ll be merciful and let you stay with the Lutz family like a dog. We’ll even give you scraps.” I clenched my fists, suppressing the murderous rage building inside me. The big fish behind Uncle Robert hadn’t surfaced yet. It wasn’t time to reel in the net. “I won’t sign.” I refused. Uncle Robert slapped me across the face, a sharp crack echoing in the room. “You refuse a toast and ask for a beating!” Uncle Robert roared. “Do you think you’re still the powerful Lutz heir? You’re nothing but trash who can’t even stand! I can crush you like an ant!” Charlotte stepped forward, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. “Leo Lutz, don’t push your luck. If you sign, I might let you stay. If you don’t, I’ll throw you out onto the street right now and let you beg for food!” “You wouldn’t dare,” I stared at Charlotte. “Watch me!” Charlotte shoved me, and my wheelchair slid backward, hitting the wall. Cole walked over and kicked over my wheelchair. I fell to the ground, feigning immobility. “Leo, is the floor comfortable?” Cole stepped on the back of my hand, grinding his shoe onto my knuckles. I endured the pain, not making a sound. Uncle Robert knelt, forcing a pen into my hand. “Sign,” he said, pressing my head down onto the transfer agreement. “Otherwise, I’ll break your other leg and you won’t even be able to sit in a wheelchair.” I bit my lip, signing my name on the transfer agreement. Uncle Robert collected the document with satisfaction, laughing as he left. Charlotte kicked me, her high heel digging into my ribs. “Get back to your room,” Charlotte said with disgust. “Cole’s sleeping in the master bedroom tonight.” I crawled from the floor back into my wheelchair, turning the wheels to leave. I had to endure. Once Uncle Robert’s deal with the overseas capital was solidified, I would make them wish they were dead. In the middle of the night, Charlotte kicked open my bedroom door. In her hand, she held a dog bowl and a thick dog chain. “Leo Lutz, get out.” Charlotte threw the dog bowl on the floor, producing a grating sound. I looked at her. Cole emerged from behind her, holding a spiked leather whip. “Leo, the master bedroom bed is too soft; Charlotte can’t get comfortable,” Cole cracked the whip in the air, a sharp snap echoing. “We’ve decided to take over this spare bedroom too.” “This is my room.” I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair. “Not anymore.” Charlotte walked over, grabbed my collar, and dragged me out of the wheelchair. I fell to the floor, my shoulder hitting the nightstand. Cole walked over and roughly fastened the dog chain around my neck, clicking the lock. “From now on, you’ll sleep in the doghouse on the balcony.” Cole tightened the chain, choking me. “Charlotte’s golden retriever just died. You’ll make a perfect replacement. From now on, you’re our family dog.” I reached up to pull at the chain around my neck. Cole lashed my hand with the whip, leaving a bloody welt. “Don’t move,” Cole sneered. “A dog should know its place.” Charlotte kicked away my wheelchair, pointing towards the balcony. “Crawl.” Charlotte commanded. I gritted my teeth, staring at them. Footsteps shuffled outside the door. Charlotte’s parents walked in. Mrs. Lennox saw me on the floor and rushed over, stepping on my back. “You useless man!” Mrs. Lennox shrieked. “You wasted three years of my daughter’s youth, and now you dare to cling to our home! People like you should just die!” Mr. Lennox walked to the closet and began rummaging through it, throwing my clothes everywhere. He found a wooden box, his eyes lighting up. “What’s this?” Mr. Lennox opened the wooden box. Inside was my mother’s emerald jade bangle, a family heirloom. “Put that down!” I looked up, roaring. “Oh, quite feisty.” Mr. Lennox took out the bangle, weighing it in his hand. “The quality is excellent. Could fetch a few million. Consider it compensation for the emotional distress you’ve caused the Lennox family.” “That’s my mother’s keepsake.” I stared at Mr. Lennox. “Your mother’s long dead. This thing is just going to waste,” Mrs. Lennox snatched the bangle and slipped it onto her own wrist. “It perfectly matches my new outfit today. Do you, a cripple, deserve something so fine?” I propped myself up with my hands, but Cole kicked me in the head, pinning me back down onto the cold floor. “Leo, don’t get excited,” Cole said, pressing his foot hard against my face. “You’re a cripple. Do you really think you can hit anyone? Can you even stand up?” Charlotte walked over, knelt in front of me, and slapped my cheek. “Leo Lutz, don’t blame me for being cruel.” Charlotte sneered, “Blame yourself for being useless. Cole can give me the life I want. What can you give me? A paralyzed body? You can’t even satisfy me!” “You’ll regret this,” I stared into Charlotte’s eyes. “Regret?” Charlotte threw her head back and laughed. “The word ‘regret’ isn’t in my vocabulary, Charlotte Lennox! Go ahead and publicly announce that you acknowledge the child in my belly as yours, otherwise, I’ll smash your mother’s jade bangle right now!” Mrs. Lennox obligingly raised her wrist, feigning a move to strike it against the wall. I closed my eyes, concealing the surging murderous intent within. “Fine,” I gritted out the word. “That’s more like it,” Cole released his foot, clapping his hands. “Remember to put on a good show at the banquet tomorrow.” The Lennox family and Cole left the room, laughing. I lay on the cold floor, pulling off the dog chain from my neck. I took out the miniature communicator hidden in my cuff. “Mr. Lutz, your uncle has made contact with the overseas capital,” came the voice of my confidant, Ryan, through the communicator. “Keep a close eye on them,” I said in a low voice. “I want all their transaction records, not a single one missed.” “Understood. Do we need to deal with the Lennox family?” “No,” I sneered. “Let them jump around for a few more days.” I wanted them to climb to the highest point, then crash into a bloody pulp. Three days later, the Lennox family hosted a grand banquet at the city’s most luxurious hotel. Ostensibly to celebrate Charlotte’s pregnancy, it was actually to announce Cole taking over a key project for the Lutz Corporation. Charlotte threw a ridiculous clown costume at my face. “Put it on,” Charlotte commanded. I emotionlessly put on the clown costume. Charlotte then took out a green hat and placed it on my head. “A lot of media will be here today,” Charlotte warned me. “You stay quietly in your wheelchair, don’t say anything out of turn, and do whatever you’re told.” Cole wheeled me into the banquet hall. The hall was packed with the city’s elite and journalists, camera flashes going off everywhere. Seeing me in my outfit, everyone began to whisper and burst into laughter. “Is that Leo Lutz? Why is he dressed like that? He looks like a clown.” “I heard he’s not only paralyzed but couldn’t even keep his wife. He’s a complete disgrace to the Lutz family.” “The child in Charlotte’s belly isn’t his at all, and he still has to swallow his pride and acknowledge it. What a pathetic cuckold.” Cole wheeled me to the center of the stage, exposing me to everyone’s gaze. Charlotte, in a couture gown, walked onto the stage arm-in-arm with Cole. “Thank you all for attending my banquet.” Charlotte took the microphone. “Today, I have two joyful announcements. First, I am pregnant, and the child is Leo Lutz’s.” Sparse applause, accompanied by undisguised mockery, rippled through the audience. “Second, Cole Penn will officially take over the Lutz Corporation’s Southside Development Project.” The entire hall erupted in an uproar. The Southside project was the lifeblood of Lutz Corporation. How could it be handed over to an outsider? Uncle Robert Lutz walked onto the stage, took the microphone, his face flushed with triumph. “This is the decision of the Lutz Corporation’s board of directors.” Uncle Robert loudly announced, “Leo Lutz is unwell and unable to perform his duties. Cole Penn is young and promising, the best candidate. From now on, Lutz Corporation’s operations will be fully managed by Cole.” Journalists immediately aimed their cameras at me, microphones almost poking my face. “Mr. Lutz, what are your thoughts on this? Have your shares been stripped?” “Mr. Lutz, did you put on that green hat yourself? Do you know about Charlotte Lennox and Cole Penn’s relationship?” Charlotte walked off the stage and shoved the microphone to my mouth. “Speak,” Charlotte threatened in a low voice. “Say what we taught you.” I looked at Uncle Robert in the audience. Beside him stood a blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigner. That was Mr. Smith, the liaison for the overseas consortium. The big fish had finally appeared. I averted my gaze and spoke into the microphone. “I support the board’s decision,” my voice was calm. “The child is mine, and I look forward to his birth.” The entire hall erupted in deafening mockery. “What a pathetic cuckold! His wife sleeps with someone else and he helps count the money!” “The Lutz family is completely finished. Leo Lutz is an utter failure.” Cole smugly patted my shoulder and walked in front of me. “Everyone heard that, right?” Cole said loudly. “Leo is very generous. To thank him, I’ve decided to toast him.” Cole raised a glass of red wine and walked towards me. He suddenly “slipped,” splashing the entire glass of red wine all over my clown costume, letting it run down my face. “Oops, my bad, my hand slipped,” Cole feigned apology, his eyes full of malicious amusement. Charlotte picked up a basin of foul-smelling water and walked up to me. “No worries, a little wash will fix it,” Charlotte said, pouring the water over my head. The stench instantly permeated the air. People around us covered their noses and recoiled. Journalists frantically clicked their camera shutters, capturing my most humiliating moment. “Leo Lutz, drink it,” Cole pressed his foot on my wheelchair, lowering his voice. “Otherwise, I’ll have someone dig up your mother’s grave right now and scatter her ashes.” I looked up, staring at Cole. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Watch me.” Cole pulled out his phone and played a video. In the video, several men with shovels stood before my mother’s tombstone, their shovels already raised. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, drawing blood. Charlotte shoved the basin to my mouth. “Drink it!” Charlotte yelled. “Drink every last drop!” I opened my mouth and swallowed a mouthful of filthy water. The entire hall erupted in even wilder laughter and whistles. After the banquet, Cole threw me into the hotel’s underground parking garage like a piece of trash. Charlotte and Cole got into a car. “Let’s book a presidential suite at the hotel tonight to celebrate,” Cole said, his arm around Charlotte, his hand roaming inappropriately. “Why bring this useless man?” Charlotte looked at me with disgust. “He’s stinking and dirty.” “He’s still useful,” Cole sneered. “My sister’s eyes can’t wait. His corneas are a perfect match.” I looked up. They were planning to take my corneas. “Then hurry up and do it,” Charlotte urged. “His eyes sicken me. Dig them out and feed them to dogs as soon as possible.” Cole started the car and drove me to a secluded private hospital. Uncle Robert Lutz was already waiting outside the operating room. “Is the agreement ready?” Cole asked. “It’s ready,” Uncle Robert handed over a voluntary organ donation consent form. Cole dragged me from the wheelchair and threw me heavily onto the cold floor. “Sign it,” Cole shoved the pen into my hand. “Don’t make me do this by force.” I looked at Uncle Robert. “Uncle Robert, to seize power, you’d even gouge out your own nephew’s eyes?” I challenged. “You’re a cripple. What good are your eyes?” Uncle Robert showed no remorse. “Cole’s sister needs her sight. You’d be doing a good deed, making a contribution. Sign the papers, and I’ll leave you a complete body.” “I won’t sign.” I snapped the pen and threw it on the floor. Charlotte walked over and kicked me in the ribs, making me grunt in pain. “Do you think you have a choice?” Charlotte pulled out a sharp scalpel. “If you don’t sign, I’ll personally gouge them out right now! No anesthesia. I’ll make you suffer worse than death!” Uncle Robert waved his hand. Several burly men rushed over, forcibly lifted me, and strapped me to the operating table with thick leather straps. Cole took out his phone and started recording. “Leo, smile for the camera,” Cole aimed the phone at my face. “To prove you’re donating voluntarily.” Charlotte, holding the scalpel, slowly approached my eyes. The tip of the blade touched my eyelid, a cold sensation. “Leo Lutz, don’t blame me,” Charlotte sneered. “Blame your bad luck. In your next life, don’t be a cripple.” I closed my eyes. Faint footsteps sounded outside the operating room door. I opened my eyes, looking at Uncle Robert. “That foreigner, he’s Smith, isn’t he?” I suddenly asked. Uncle Robert’s face changed. He turned to look at me. “How do you know?” Uncle Robert asked, startled. “I also know you plan to package and sell the Southside project to Smith in exchange for a billion in overseas funds,” I said, my voice calm, as if discussing something unrelated to me. Uncle Robert rushed over, grabbing my collar. “Who told you?” Uncle Robert yelled. “What else do you know?” “Not only do I know that, I also know your overseas account has been frozen.” I looked into Uncle Robert’s eyes, enunciating each word. Cole put down his phone, frowning. “Uncle Robert, don’t listen to his nonsense. How could a paralyzed cripple know any of this?” Cole urged. “He’s just stalling for time. Charlotte, do it! Gouge out his eyeballs!” Charlotte raised the scalpel, aiming for my eyes.

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I just landed a billion-dollar deal for the company. My wife, the CEO, was overjoyed and promised to reward me with a house. She excitedly showed me a luxury villa she’d built for me in The Sims, complete with a digital ocean view. “Move in here for now,” she said, promising to build the real thing once profits doubled. Later, I stumbled upon a post by her male assistant—a photo of a $30 million beachfront estate, captioned: “A gift from my boss. Real love means exclusive pampering.” Suddenly, it all made sense. Money wasn’t the issue; I just wasn’t worth it to her. Without a word, I quietly liked the post. Within minutes, the comments exploded. My wife called, frantic, claiming the estate was just a “corporate incentive” to motivate the team. She begged me to undo the like, dismiss the rumors, and even promised we could try for a baby this year. But I’d had enough of her empty promises. “Save the excuses,” I told her. “I want a divorce.” 1 The moment the words left my mouth, Victoria’s tone shifted from panicked to bitterly annoyed. “I am literally just trying to incentivize my employees. Half of this company belongs to you, so I’m doing this for our future!” She let out a harsh breath. “If you don’t want to appreciate my hard work, fine. But don’t you dare joke about divorce. Marriage is not a game, Earl. Consider this your first and last warning.” “I gave you the chance to fix this mess, and you refused. So don’t blame me when I stop protecting your reputation.” She hung up on me, the line clicking dead in my ear. Standing in the long queue at the City Hall courthouse, I let out a long, heavy sigh. She didn’t get it. I was just so unbelievably tired. This time, the word ‘divorce’ was not a threat. It was a promise. The line was moving agonizingly slow. Clutching my ticket number, I mindlessly scrolled through my phone. Underneath Oliver’s Instagram post, the comment thread was turning into a warzone. Most of it was my own project team, furiously defending me. “Stealing another man’s wife? Raised with great morals, I see. Teach me how to be a professional sugar baby, will you?” “Preach. Working overtime means nothing compared to having a sweet mouth. Zero actual skills but skyrocketing up the corporate ladder. Wish I figured out the cheat code sooner.” The passive-aggressive shade was endless. No wonder Victoria couldn’t hold back and called to threaten me into doing damage control. Her precious boy toy was getting ripped to shreds online. But my team was only spitting facts. Aside from his pretty face and boyish charm, Oliver was utterly useless. Yet, Victoria had personally tossed out resumes from Harvard and Yale graduates, breaking every company protocol to hire a kid who barely scraped through a community college. When the rumors first started flying and the office morale tanked, I had gone to her, genuinely asking for her reasoning. She had looked at me with deep disappointment. “Earl, I thought of all people, you would understand me. Instead, you’re being an elitist snob just like the rest of the board. Have you forgotten our core values? We built this firm to give everyone an equal shot, especially young people who just need a chance to prove themselves.” Like a fool, I believed her. I actually felt deeply ashamed of my own prejudice. I immediately told HR to stop filtering by degrees and start hiring based on raw talent and drive. A week later, HR hired a decent applicant from a lesser-known state school. Victoria dragged the HR director into her office and screamed at him for three hours straight. “Do we look like a charity? Since when do we let community college trash walk through our front doors? If you can’t handle a simple hiring process, pack your desk and get the hell out.” That was when I learned that her so-called ‘equal opportunity’ applied exclusively to Oliver. My phone buzzed. A message from my lead developer popped up on the screen. “Don’t be sad, Chief. We’re tearing him apart for you.” Looking at the flood of goofy, supportive memes in our group chat, the tight knot in my chest loosened a fraction. I was just typing out a message, telling them to ease up before they got in trouble, when a company-wide email notification dropped from Victoria. “Any employee caught slacking off on social media during business hours will have their monthly salary halved and all performance bonuses revoked. A second offense will result in immediate termination.” Attached was a penalty list. I scrolled through it and barked out a dry, humorless laugh. Every single employee who had liked or left positive comments on Oliver’s post was completely ignored. The only people fined were my team members. Instantly, my phone blew up. The group chat descended into pure chaos. “She is taking this way too far! This isn’t about enforcing rules, she is straight-up targeting the Chief!” “Chief, are you thinking about starting your own firm? Or jumping ship?” “Wherever you go, we follow!” Seeing their righteous anger, a wave of guilt washed over me. After seven years of marriage, Victoria knew me inside and out. She knew my biggest weakness was my fierce loyalty to my people. So, whenever I stepped out of line, whenever I didn’t bow down to her whims, she made my team’s lives a living hell. I had swallowed my pride and endured it time and time again. But today, the well of my patience had completely run dry. I dialed a number I had ignored for months. The voice on the other end answered on the second ring, practically vibrating with excitement. “Earl! Tell me you’ve finally seen the light and you’re coming to join us. We have an executive suite waiting for you!” “I have one condition,” I said quietly. “Name it. One, ten, a hundred conditions, whatever you want. The board will approve it.” “I’m bringing my entire team with me.” The man gasped in pure delight. “Are you kidding me? I’ll have the contracts drafted in ten minutes. I’ll double whatever they’re making right now. No, triple it!” My department had always been the top-earning division in our industry. Yet, because of my turbulent relationship with my wife, they were constantly denied promotions, used as leverage to keep me on a tight leash. Not anymore. By the time I finished securing their futures, my number was called. I walked up to the glass window and slid the divorce application forward. It had been seven years. Victoria had probably forgotten entirely. Back when we were desperately in love and dirt poor, we had signed a mutual separation clause. We promised each other an easy out, vowing that if we ever turned toxic, we would let the other go without a legal bloodbath. We both cried that night, swearing we would never need to use that piece of paper. Yet here I was, cashing it in. The clerk looked at the forms, then at me. “Sir, I still need confirmation from your spouse that the marriage is irretrievably broken before I can process the fast-track paperwork.” Sighing, I called Victoria. She forwarded it straight to voicemail. Again and again. Ten minutes ticked by. The people behind me were starting to grumble. Even the clerk was giving me a weary, impatient look. Having no other choice, I pulled up Oliver’s Instagram. Unsurprisingly, he had just posted a live story. Victoria was in his kitchen, wearing an apron over her designer dress, smiling brightly as she cooked him lunch. I swiped to the next slide, showing the clerk the massive pile of luxury watches, limited-edition sneakers, and the thirty-million-dollar real estate deed Victoria had gifted him. The annoyance in the clerk’s eyes instantly melted into deep, uncomfortable pity. She stopped asking questions. “The paperwork will be processed. You can come back tomorrow to pick up your finalized divorce certificate.” “Thank you.” I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for years and walked out into the crisp afternoon air. Just as I reached my car, Victoria finally called back. 2 “Are you starting to panic now?” her voice dripped with arrogant condescension. “I tried to talk sense into you, but you wouldn’t listen. I am absolutely furious right now, so whatever pathetic apology you have prepared, save it. I have to work late tonight, so I won’t be coming home. Take the night to seriously reflect on your behavior.” Before she could hang up, I clearly heard Oliver’s voice whining in the background. “Victoria, which suit should I wear for my birthday dinner tonight?” The line abruptly cut off. Today wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t hers either. It was Oliver’s. Working late? Just another garbage excuse to throw her boy toy a lavish party. Victoria grew up in a severely abusive household. Birthdays were a source of deep psychological trauma for her. To protect her peace, I had never celebrated my own birthday in seven years, just to avoid triggering her memories. But for Oliver, she was willing to break all her own rules. I guess love really was a miracle cure. Pushing the bitter taste down, I drove straight to a high-end steakhouse to meet my team and the reps from the new company. Once the massive compensation packages were signed and sealed, the tension broke. My guys surrounded me, patting my back, offering a mix of sympathy and relief. “Chief, listen to us. A wife whose heart belongs in someone else’s pocket is dead weight. You’re dodging a bullet.” I offered a quiet, self-deprecating smile. My mind briefly drifted to the first time I met Victoria. She was wearing a faded cotton dress, standing awkwardly in a crowded room, so painfully shy she couldn’t even maintain eye contact. Now, she lied with the ease of breathing, carving me hollow without a second thought. But hadn’t I created this monster? In the beginning, I loved her so fiercely that no matter how terribly she messed up, a single tear from her was enough to make me forgive her. She learned quickly that I had no boundaries. So she started pushing them. When she made a mistake, she offered a half-hearted apology. If I didn’t instantly cave, she would sabotage my work until I submitted. It escalated over the years until she crossed lines I never thought possible. I handed her the knife, over and over, hoping each time would be the last. I was such an idiot. Shaking my head, I raised my glass. “Drinks are on me tonight. We don’t stop until the bar runs dry!” The table erupted in cheers. We drank, laughed, and trashed the corporate world until the sun began to peek over the horizon. Exhausted, smelling like a brewery, I unlocked the front door of my house, expecting the cold emptiness of an empty home. Instead, I found Victoria sitting stiffly on the living room sofa. She had been waiting all night. As soon as the smell of liquor hit her, her face contorted in deep disgust. She backed away instantly. “I told you I despise the smell of alcohol! Why did you drink so much? Do my words mean absolutely nothing to you?” Hearing her shriek, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because she casually mentioned she hated the smell of alcohol, I had been completely sober for seven years. But what was the reality? Just last month, Oliver had sent me a video, intentionally trying to provoke me. He was completely wasted, slurring his words, looking up at the camera with puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry, Victoria. I know you hate drunks. I’ll never do it again.” And Victoria? She had cradled his flushed face in her hands, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. “Silly boy. Drink as much as you want. I don’t hate alcohol, I just hate having to clean up after sloppy men.” Then, right on camera, Oliver gagged, and she literally caught his vomit with her bare hands. “But for you? I’d do anything.” The memory made my stomach churn. I slapped her hand away as she reached for my coat. “Didn’t you say you weren’t coming home?” Victoria glared at me, tossing a thick blanket at my chest. “I was worried about you being alone and depressed! And look at you, out partying without even giving me a call. And to think I went out of my way to pack up your favorite dishes from the restaurant.” In the past, I lived in constant fear for her safety. Even in the middle of a screaming match, if she didn’t text me back within an hour, I would be calling hospitals. This time, I hadn’t checked in on her for twenty-four hours. The silence probably spooked her enough to bring her home. I glanced at the takeout containers on the counter. Prime rib, lobster bisque. My favorites. I didn’t touch them. A slap to the face, followed by a piece of candy. It was her classic manipulation tactic. I wasn’t biting anymore. Victoria, completely oblivious to my deadened eyes, assumed her little peace offering had worked its magic like it always did. Her expression softened into a magnanimous mask. “Alright, arguing is exhausting. Let’s compromise.” “I’ll forgive you for framing Oliver and making him feel bullied today. But in exchange, you need to hand your current account over to him.” “His sales numbers have been dropping, and he needs a win. If you hadn’t been constantly suppressing his potential, he wouldn’t be struggling right now. Behave, do this favor for me, and I’ll lift the penalties on your team tomorrow morning.” Everything suddenly made sense. The early return. The favorite food. The blanket. It was all for Oliver. Her devotion to that boy was honestly staggering. To secure him a win, she was willing to put her pride aside and play house with me in the middle of a cold war. I let out a dry chuckle. “Sure.” The corner of Victoria’s lips curled up in a victorious smirk. She wasn’t surprised by my surrender. This play had run a hundred times before. “Next time, think before you act. If you hadn’t been so petty and liked his post, inciting your team to cyberbully him, we wouldn’t have had this fight in the first place.” “But whatever, it’s in the past. Go to the office and handle the handover paperwork.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out my heavy silver Director’s badge, and tossed it onto the coffee table with a clatter. “Why stop at just one account? Give him my title, too.” 3 Victoria froze, her smile slipping. “What is that supposed to mean?” “He’s so incredibly talented, right? He deserves the corner office.” Her face darkened, frustration practically radiating off her. “I am trying to have a civilized conversation with you, and you’re throwing another childish tantrum?” If I refused to give up the account, I was a jealous bully targeting her assistant. If I gave him my entire career, I was throwing a tantrum. There was no winning with this woman. And I was done playing the game. Seeing me standing there in silence, Victoria rubbed her temples, looking supremely inconvenienced. “Is this about that stupid house? Fine, I’ll buy you a real one tomorrow, okay?” “I swear to God, you are a grown man. Holding a grudge over something so trivial is pathetic.” Even now, she genuinely believed I was throwing away our marriage over a piece of real estate. “Don’t bother,” I said softly. “Save your money. Oliver is going to need it.” Victoria’s eyes flashed with absolute fury. She grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at my face. “I have told you a thousand times! Oliver and I have a strictly professional mentor-mentee relationship. Why is your mind so filthy?” Everyone else in the building called him the intern or the assistant. She was the only one who purred his first name like a lover. It was insulting that she still thought I was blind. “You know exactly what you two are doing.” Her face flushed a mottled red, and she began to scream. “If that’s how you really feel, then give me my gaming account back! I stayed up for three nights straight building that digital villa, placing every brick. You don’t deserve to look at it!” She lunged at me, trying to snatch my phone from my pocket. I easily stepped aside, unlocked my screen, and showed her the automated text message. Your account deletion request has been processed successfully. “You think I care about a fake house in a video game?” “The account is permanently deleted. The game is off my phone. Are we clear?” Victoria stared at the screen, genuinely wounded. Her hands flew up, wildly slapping at my chest and shoulders. “You are a heartless bastard!” Screaming a few more curses, she grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the front door so hard the walls shook. In the old days, I would have chased her down the street. I could never let her be alone in the dark when she was upset. Tonight, I locked the deadbolt, took a hot shower, crashed into bed, and slept like the dead. When I woke up the next morning, my phone was blowing up again. This time, the punishment didn’t fall on my team. It landed squarely on me. An office-wide memo had been sent out. “Since a certain someone feels they are unfit to hold the position of Director, I am officially granting their request for demotion.” Anyone who had dared to speak up for me previously had already been heavily fined. Today, the entire company was dead silent. I didn’t care. I got dressed, met my team in the lobby, and walked straight into the HR department to hand over twenty resignation letters. The HR Director looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Her hands shook violently as she dialed Victoria. “Ms. Sinclair, the entire prime division… they’re resigning…” Through the speaker, the first voice we heard wasn’t Victoria’s. It was Oliver’s smooth, arrogant drawl. “Victoria, if it’s an emergency, you can go back to the office. I can watch the movie alone.” “Absolutely not,” Victoria replied, her voice sickeningly sweet. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and I promised you a break. I never break my promises to you.” Then, the phone shifted, and her voice turned into a venomous hiss. “Are you completely incompetent? You’re bothering me over some petty resignations? What exactly am I paying you for?” “But… Ms. Sinclair, it’s—” “But nothing! My signature stamp is in the top drawer of my desk. Stamp whatever they gave you and stop ruining my day!” The line went dead. The HR Director’s eyes filled with panicked tears. Having no authorization to stop us, she numbly processed our severances. By the time we packed our boxes, the office gossip mill had spun the story into a new shape: we hadn’t quit, Victoria had fired us. One of Oliver’s loyal lapdogs leaned against a cubicle, smirking as I carried my box past him. He raised his voice so the whole floor could hear. “Talent doesn’t mean jack if you can’t keep the CEO happy.” “Who cares who was here first? In the game of love, the one who isn’t loved is just an embarrassment!” They were laughing, loudly insulting me to my face. My guys dropped their boxes, rolling up their sleeves, ready to turn the office into a boxing ring. I held up a hand, stopping them. I looked right at the lapdog and offered him a bright, genuine smile. “You’re absolutely right. I sincerely hope your significant others all find their true soulmates.” Leaving them choking on their own malice, I walked out of the building with my team. I took a detour to City Hall. Sitting in the passenger seat of my developer’s car, I stared down at the crisp, legally binding divorce certificate in my hand. I started laughing. “I’m in a great mood today. Pick the most expensive restaurant in the city. It’s on me.” The guys cheered in the backseat, immediately arguing violently over whether we should get dry-aged steaks or a king crab banquet. I leaned against the window, quietly scrolling through my phone, letting their bickering wash over me. Suddenly, the car went dead silent. Someone tugged sharply on my sleeve. “Chief. Look over there.” I looked up, following his pointing finger out the window.

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Sorting through my husband’s suit pockets, two identical receipts for designer cologne slipped out. It was from the bespoke brand I frequented, and for a moment, I thought it was a surprise he’d planned for me. Then his new assistant walked past, and the sharp scent of fir instantly jolted my memory. “Mr. Brown actually gifted you such an expensive cologne?” I asked, feigning casualness, watching her blush and deny buying it herself. But on her earlobe dangled a pearl stud identical to mine, and the silver bracelet on her wrist was an exact match. Even the trench coat she wore was a limited edition I’d just bought last month. My gaze drifted to the floor under her desk, where a men’s underwear package was half-hidden. I smiled, patting her shoulder with a light, admiring tone. “Your taste is really something.” “You even know my husband’s favorite brand of underwear?” I lowered my voice on the last part, making it a whisper. 1 Elara’s face went white. She instinctively kicked the paper bag further under her desk. I smoothed my cuff, then took out the receipt I’d kept in my bag and gently laid it on her workstation. “Two identical receipts. One is mine. Where’s the other one?” Her lips trembled. She started to speak, then swallowed the words. The office door swung open. Aidan Brown walked in, carrying the crisp chill of the outside. He glanced at me, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly, a familiar gesture. But when his gaze shifted to Elara, it held a flicker of apprehension. Elara’s tears came quickly, perfectly timed. Her voice wavered as she curtsied to Aidan. “Mr. Brown, Professor Grey might be mistaken. I honestly didn’t know I was using the same cologne as her.” With one sentence, she absolved herself completely, and in the same breath, painted me as irrational. I looked at Aidan, waiting for his response. He stepped past me, slamming a file onto the desk. “Molly, stop this. She’s just a kid fresh out of college. Why are you making a fuss over her?” My head buzzed. For five years, he had never once publicly embarrassed me. Today, for an assistant, he told me to “stop making a fuss.” I stared into his eyes for three seconds. I knew those eyes so well. They had sparkled goofily on our first date, turned red as a rabbit’s on our wedding day. Now, they were empty, a blank slate. I placed the receipt in front of him. “Two identical colognes. One is on my vanity, one is on her. Explain.” Aidan didn’t even spare it a glance. “The company is testing client scent sensitivity. I had her buy it as a sample. What are you imagining?” He took a step forward, his hand moving to my waist out of habit. I shifted half a step to the side. His hand met empty air. From an angle he couldn’t see, Elara raised her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The pearl stud was revealed. It was a design I had drawn myself, custom-made. There was only one pair in the world. She wore an identical one. She looked at me, a faint, fleeting curve to her lips. Then it was gone. My stomach churned. Not because of her, but because I remembered. That winter, during my junior year of college, it was ten degrees below freezing. Aidan had stood in the snow for three hours to find a fresh fir branch for my bookmark. His lips were purple with cold, but he smiled as he handed it to me. “My Molly, you deserve the purest scent.” Now that scent clung to a human copy machine, complete with matching earrings, bracelet, and trench coat. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked to the door. Aidan called out my name. “Molly.” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Aidan, you always touch your watch with your left hand when you lie. Your tells, you can’t get rid of them.” Behind me, the silence was deafening. As I stepped into the elevator, the metal doors slowly closed. In that final shrinking sliver of a gap, I saw Aidan grab Elara by the back of her neck. There was no tenderness, no affection. Only a brutal, almost crushing malice. And Elara didn’t struggle; she instinctively shielded her head and face, as if accustomed to it. Was he feeling guilty? But what about the cologne, the receipts? The elevator doors shut. I stood inside alone, my mind a swirling mess. Back home, I knelt in the entryway to change my shoes. On the bottom shelf of the shoe rack, a pair of silk slippers, pale pink, size 6, caught my eye. I wore a size 8. I stared at them for a long time, until my knees ached, then stood up. I picked them up and examined the soles—faintly worn. They’d been used. Aidan returned late that night, reeking of alcohol. He was a different man from the daytime. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist from behind, burying his face in my neck. “Molly, never look at me like that again.” When he kissed me, I smelled alcohol mixed with the cloying sweetness of hand lotion. My stomach convulsed violently. I shoved him away and rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet. Nothing came up but bitter bile. A loud crash echoed from outside the door. He’d kicked and shattered the floor vase in the hallway. Shards of porcelain cut his ankle, blood flowing onto the floor. He stood in the bathroom doorway, his eyes shifting from adoration to a kind of savage fury I’d never seen. But he didn’t come in. He just stared at my back for half a minute, then turned and walked away. The next day, after teaching my university class, I went to the underground parking garage to get my car. Aidan’s Mercedes was in my parking spot, the driver’s door open. Stepping out was Elara, wearing a camel knit sweater identical to mine. She showed no panic at seeing me. She pulled a car key from her bag, her voice soft and timid. “Professor Grey, Mr. Brown said you don’t like driving this car and it was a shame for it to collect dust, so he lent it to me.” My car, my cologne, my earrings, my clothes. Was he going to move my husband out next? I said nothing, walked to the passenger side, and took out my key. From the front of the car to the back, I scratched a deep, white line. Elara’s face turned ashen. “Professor Grey…” “I don’t care about my trash. It shouldn’t bother you if it’s scratched, right?” The facade on her face cracked, a glint of malice flashing in her eyes. Her phone rang. She answered, instantly switching to a tearful voice. “Mr. Brown, Professor Grey seems very upset…” The call was on speaker. Aidan’s voice came through, utterly devoid of warmth. “Let her smash the car if she wants. What right do you have to upset her? Get back to the office.” I listened, feeling no triumph. Because I remembered a time, years ago, when I’d accidentally scraped this car, too scared to say anything. Aidan had flown back overnight from out of town. His eyes were bloodshot as he held me, checking me from head to toe. “Are you okay?” That kind of favoritism was pure. What was it now? A scoff came from my left. Dr. Ashton Hayes leaned against a pillar nearby, twirling his car keys, having watched the entire scene unfold. He walked over, handing me a wet wipe. “Wipe your hands.” I took it, cleaning the car paint residue from my fingers. “Dr. Hayes, you’re unusually quiet today.” “Because you wouldn’t like what I have to say.” He pulled out his phone, showing me a screenshot. A bank transfer record. Aidan had discreetly deposited three million dollars into Elara’s family account in multiple transfers. My hand holding the phone was steady. My heart rate was calm. Only the numbers on the screen blurred for a moment. Ashton offered no comfort. “Does this hurt already? Molly Grey, your supposedly brilliant mind is completely useless when it comes to judging men.” That evening, I returned home with the transfer record. Aidan had just gotten out of the shower, his hand, wiping his hair with a towel, paused. Then he tossed the towel onto the sofa. “What did you dig up now?” I turned the phone screen towards him. “Three million. Elara.” He didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Business operation. Some accounts can’t go through the company’s official channels. She’s just a proxy. Is it interesting to investigate so thoroughly?” “A proxy?” I laughed. “What kind of proxy needs to wear my clothes, use my cologne, mimic my hairstyle?” “Aidan, do you think I’m so dumb from studying that I can’t see through your pathetic little ‘training’ game?” His expression changed. He lunged, closing the distance between us, and gripped my jaw with one hand. The bloodshot veins in his eyes were terrifyingly dense. “Do you think I want to see her wear your things?” “Molly, don’t push me. Don’t look into this anymore.” I pried his fingers off, leaving a red mark on my jaw. “When you choked me, and when you choked the back of her neck, was it the same hand?” His hand froze in mid-air, unable to retreat for a long moment. Three days later. Our fifth wedding anniversary. I booked a table at the French restaurant where we first met, and wore the white dress he loved. I was seated at eight, and waited until midnight. The waiter refilled my water five times, his expression shifting from eager to sympathetic. He never called. On the way home, my stomach problem flared up. The pain was so intense I couldn’t straighten up. I hailed a cab and went to the nearest emergency room. Pushing the IV pole, I shuffled to the end of the corridor, where the VIP room door was ajar. The blinds weren’t fully closed. Aidan stood by the bed, Elara propped against the headboard, her face pale. His back was to me, and he was spoon-feeding her hot soup, blowing on each spoonful to cool it before bringing it to her lips. “Eat. If you don’t, I’ll force it down.” Elara seemed terrified of displeasing him, swallowing the scalding soup with effort. What truly broke me was Elara’s hair. She’d just had it cut, the length and curve an exact match to mine. By the pillow on the bed lay a rare poetry collection by Neruda. I’d taught from it in class last week; it was a version sold by only one online retailer. Through the crack in the blinds, she saw me. She didn’t hide. Instead, she grabbed Aidan’s sleeve, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. “Aidan, Professor Grey has a sensitive stomach. If you stay with me tonight, will she be upset?” Aidan’s back stiffened for a second. He put down the soup bowl, his voice cold and irritable. “Don’t mention her. She’s too aloof. She’d rather suffer in silence than make a fuss, unlike you who knows how to charm.” Too aloof. She’d rather suffer in silence. He knew I was in pain. He just thought my pain didn’t require his attention. Because I was the one who wouldn’t trouble him. My stomach spasmed violently, cold sweat trickling down my forehead. I slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor. Only then did I notice the white dress was stained by the wheels of the IV pole. His favorite white dress, the one I’d worn specially for our anniversary. I couldn’t smile. Suddenly, a pair of hands scooped me up from the ground. Ashton, on his night shift, carried me in his arms and rushed towards the emergency room. As we passed the VIP room. He gritted his teeth, uttering only two words. “Bastard.” There was a commotion in the room, and Aidan snapped his head around. But Elara was quicker. She ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand, blood splattering the sheets, and wrapped her legs around his, sobbing hysterically. “Aidan, don’t go! What will I do if you leave?” His feet froze. He looked across the hallway at me, his eyes filled with a struggle, and pain. But he didn’t take that step. The emergency room door closed. I thought I heard him call my name, but it might have been a hallucination. It didn’t matter anymore. When I woke up. Zero missed calls, zero messages on my phone. Ashton pushed the door open. He held a few photocopied sheets. “Molly Grey, your husband is seriously ill.” He pulled a chair to my bedside and sat down. I leaned against the headboard, silent. He placed the photocopies on the table. “I had a contact look at Elara’s scans.” “Cracked ribs and old fractures. These are all signs of being beaten.” “Last night, by the emergency room door, her instinctive reaction to flinch and pull back her neck. Only someone who has been repeatedly hit develops that kind of muscle memory.” My mind reeled. “He doesn’t love Elara?” “Love? No way. He just uses her as an outlet. This is paranoid control, a twisted psychology with object transference.” “He feared his inherent brutality would destroy you, so he found a substitute. He vents his twisted desires on someone else, then cleans himself up to come back to you.” I stared at the scans, a chill creeping up my spine. “But he not only gave her money, he bought her so much jewelry.” “Even a dog needs to be fed, Molly. For five years, you were pampered and never wronged, all because someone else took the hits for you.” “Are you really going to keep accepting this kind of love, stained with someone else’s blood?” I looked at the words on the report, a wave of nausea washing over me. Three days later, Aidan arrived. He was taking me to a business dinner. Impeccably suited, he put his arm around my waist. Less than half an hour later, Elara appeared, as the companion of a business partner. When she smiled, she tilted her head slightly, lightly touching her earlobe with her right hand. My habitual gesture, perfectly mimicked. The wives around us started whispering. “Did you see that?” “That young lady isn’t an exact replica of Mrs. Brown, but she’s at least seventy percent similar.” “Mr. Brown must adore his wife, even his mistress is cut from the same cloth.” My hand, holding the wine glass, trembled slightly. That feeling of being stripped bare in public was a thousand times more disgusting than being betrayed. A tipsy businessman stumbled over, his hand reaching for Elara’s waist. Aidan’s face changed in a split second. He kicked over a chair, grabbed a bottle of red wine, and smashed it on the table. Glass shards flew everywhere. A piece of shrapnel flew up and grazed my cheek, blood trickling down my chin. Aidan didn’t look at me. His eyes were entirely on Elara, who was cowering behind him, trembling. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice was filled with frantic concern. I stood in the center of the mess, blood on my face, being gawked at by everyone. Elara, buried in his chest, looked over his shoulder at me. She smiled, a fleeting, almost imperceptible curve of the lips. Molly Grey, university lecturer, the biggest joke at this dinner party. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and slowly wiped the blood from my face. Then I picked up a glass of ice water from the table and walked towards them. Aidan finally snapped back to reality. His gaze fell on my face, his pupils constricting. “Molly, your face…” He panicked, reaching out to touch me. I swung my arm, splashing the entire glass of ice water in his face. Droplets ran down his brow and nose. The whole room fell silent. I heard my own voice, chillingly calm. “Aidan, you utterly disgust me.” “Tomorrow morning at ten, meet me at the courthouse for the divorce. Don’t be late.”

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In my previous life, my boyfriend Bobby ripped my priceless Water Affinity right out of my soul and handed it over to his precious golden girl, Lyla. They dumped me in the wasteland like a piece of trash, leaving me to bake into a mummified corpse under the scorching desert sun. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day my powers awakened. A mechanical, icy voice echoed in my mind. [Please select your ability conduit: A. Equivalent Exchange. B. Lifespan Consumption.] Looking at the two hypocrites standing in front of me, I swallowed down a tidal wave of pure hatred and made my choice without a single heartbeat of hesitation. “I choose B.” You wanted my powers so badly, Lyla? Take them. Let’s see how well you play the untouchable beauty when you are wearing the face of a shriveled old crone. 1 My skin had cracked and blistered against the boiling desert sands. In the final moments before my consciousness faded, completely drained of moisture, the last thing burned into my vision was the nauseating sight of Bobby and Lyla standing over me. I hated them. God, I hated them. In my past life, when the Scorched Earth apocalypse hit, I awakened the ultra-rare Water Affinity. The system gave me two choices for my power source: Equivalent Exchange or Lifespan Consumption. Terrified of dying young, I chose the former. Every single day, I carefully extracted moisture from dirt and dead wood, trading physical matter to provide our survival camp with their only source of drinking water. I honestly thought my absolute devotion and caution would earn Bobby’s loyalty and protection. I was dead wrong. In his eyes, I would never hold a candle to Lyla, his childhood sweetheart. To ensure Lyla lived like a queen in the wasteland, he used his incredibly rare Siphon ability to forcibly rip my Water Affinity right out of my chest and graft it onto her. I was reduced to a crippled mortal. They tossed me into a dusty corner, and during a violent raid for supplies, I was left behind to die of dehydration under the merciless sun. “Serena! Serena, wake up!” My eyes snapped open. Blinding sunlight and a suffocating wave of heat instantly swallowed me. Hovering above me was Bobby’s familiar, detestable face. He was shaking my shoulders in an absolute panic. I was reborn. The cold, mechanical voice chimed in my head once more. [System Alert: Host mental state stabilized. Water Affinity awakened.] [Please select your ability conduit: A. Equivalent Exchange. B. Lifespan Consumption.] I was back. I was actually back. Back to the exact moment my powers manifested. My heart slammed against my ribs in a chaotic mix of wild ecstasy and homicidal rage. “Babe, are you okay? You awakened the Water Affinity!” Bobby’s voice trembled with poorly suppressed excitement. Standing right behind him, Lyla watched me with a highly calculated look, a frail, innocent smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was exactly the same. Exactly like my past life. You love my powers that much? Perfect. In this life, I am going to give you a gift. A little surprise bought and paid for with human life. I lowered my eyelashes, burying the lethal intent exploding in my pupils. When I looked up again, I grabbed my head with both hands. My body began to violently convulse. I drained all the blood from my face. “It hurts. It hurts so much,” I gasped out, my voice ragged. “There is something inside my body. It’s tearing me apart. I can’t control it.” My acting was absolutely flawless. Anyone watching would assume this was severe biological rejection, a common side effect for newly awakened mutants. Bobby immediately pulled me into a tight, dramatic embrace, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Don’t panic. This is normal for a new awakening. Your body is just too frail. I’ve got you.” He glanced up at Lyla. His eyes were swimming with toxic, sacrificial love, while Lyla perfectly mirrored his gaze with a look of deep, theatrical concern. I knew the script. The circus act was about to begin. While leaning weakly against Bobby’s chest, I gave the system my final answer. “I choose option B. Lifespan Consumption.” The moment the choice locked in, I could have sworn I heard a demon laughing in the back of my mind. You wanted my power so desperately, Lyla? Let’s see how much you enjoy it when your youth rots away from the inside out. 2 I played the agony to the absolute limit. I slumped heavily against Bobby, hyperventilating as if I were about to pass out entirely. The rest of the survival squad crowded around us. Their cracked, bleeding lips and desperate eyes screamed of their thirst. But seeing my body violently rejecting the new power, their desperation morphed into anxiety and thinly veiled frustration. “Bobby, what are we supposed to do? Serena is in no shape to produce water!” one of the scavengers yelled, his voice cracking. “Yeah, we are dying of thirst out here!” Lyla stepped forward right on cue. She bit her lower lip, her voice sickeningly gentle. “Bobby, don’t force her. Look how much pain she is in. Awakening a power is a life-or-death gamble. With a constitution as weak as hers, forcing her to use it will literally kill her.” Bobby looked at Lyla with an aching tenderness. Then, a look of profound, heroic resolve washed over his face. “Everyone, calm down! I have a solution.” He took a deep breath. “Serena, my gift is Siphoning. Using it drains me heavily, but for you, and for this team, it is a risk I have to take. I will temporarily transfer your power into Lyla. Her physical stats are much higher than yours. She can produce the water we need, and once you fully recover, I will return the power to you. How does that sound?” Temporarily. What a beautiful lie. Return it. What a joke. In my past life, I was absolutely blinded by his deep, emotional performance. I actually thought he was putting his life on the line to save mine. I sneered internally, but on the outside, I forced out a weak, deeply moved smile. Tears pooled perfectly in my eyes. “Bobby. If you do this for me, won’t it damage your body? I can handle the pain, really.” “Don’t be silly. I’d do anything for you,” Bobby interrupted, his tone practically bleeding devotion. He didn’t give me a chance to argue. He slammed one hand onto my shoulder and the other onto Lyla’s. A massive, invisible force ripped through my core. I could physically feel the aquatic energy connected to my very soul being brutally hijacked, dragged out of my veins, and forced into Lyla’s body. Bobby’s face went chalk white. Beads of cold sweat erupted across his forehead. He swayed on his feet. That was the price of the Siphon. He was burning his own lifespan to make the transfer. Serves him right. When the final thread of energy severed from me, Lyla’s eyes snapped open, glowing with a brilliant, euphoric light. She eagerly raised her hand, palm facing the sky. “Water! I can feel the water!” A second later, a crystal-clear stream materialized out of thin air, spiraling elegantly above her palm before cascading down into the cracked, barren dirt. It hit the hot soil with a loud sizzle. “It’s water! Actual water!” “Lyla is incredible! We are saved!” The entire camp exploded into sheer delirium. Everyone rushed Lyla, forming a tight circle around her, gazing up at her with a feverish, cult-like worship. As for me? I was shoved aside so violently I crashed into the dirt. Bobby, the man who had just promised to protect me with his life, stood proudly by Lyla’s side, basking in her glory. I sat in the dust, wiping the dirt off my cheek. I hope you love the gift, you two. Lyla became the undisputed god of the camp. Everyone treated her like royalty, orbiting her like she was the center of the universe. “Lyla, I am so parched. Can I have just a sip?” “Lyla, my blades are covered in mutant blood. Can I get a rinse?” “Lyla, the heat is brutal today. Everyone is exhausted. Do you think you could… maybe give us a little rain to cool off?” She agreed to absolutely everything. She was completely addicted to the intoxicating rush of causing a crowd to cheer with a simple flick of her wrist. Spring water, hovering liquid spheres, even absurdly wasteful artificial rain showers. She squandered the stolen power with zero hesitation, pushing her status to absolute deity levels. She even conjured enough pure water to take a full bath. In the wasteland, bathing was an extravagance reserved for emperors. Basking in the jealous, awe-struck stares of the other women, her vanity fed on the attention like a parasite. I was entirely forgotten. The only time anyone remembered I existed was during ration distribution, when they would toss me the moldy, hardened scraps like a stray dog. I didn’t care. I just sat in the shadows, coldly watching Lyla summon water again and again. With every single drop that materialized, I could almost see the silver threads weaving into her hair. Karma didn’t keep me waiting long. Just three days later, after a massive water conjuring, Lyla instinctively pulled out her prized pocket mirror to admire her own reflection. A bloodcurdling, ear-piercing scream shattered the silence of the camp. 3 The scavengers rushed over in a panic. Lyla was pointing a trembling finger at her own face. The mirror slipped from her grip and shattered on the rocks. “My eyes. What is happening to my eyes?” Her voice was a hysterical, terrified quiver. The people closest to her leaned in. They gasped. The skin around the corners of her eyes, which had been flawless and tight that morning, was now etched with deep, unmistakable crow’s feet. “You’re probably just exhausted, Lyla. You’ve been working way too hard for us lately,” one of the men offered, his voice lacking conviction. Lyla snatched up a broken shard of the mirror, her panic skyrocketing by the second. It wasn’t just the wrinkles. Her vibrant, glowing hair looked completely fried. It was dull, brittle, and lifeless. A dark, terrifying premonition twisted in her gut. But the sheer addiction to the camp’s worship pushed the fear down. To secure her crown and prove to everyone that she was perfectly fine, she decided to pull a massive stunt. “Everyone, watch this!” Lyla climbed onto the roof of an abandoned transport truck. She took a deep breath, pushing the hijacked power to its absolute limit. “I am going to bring a true oasis down upon us!” Dark clouds aggressively materialized overhead. A torrential downpour crashed into the desert camp. Men and women danced in the mud, screaming her name, chanting for their goddess. Lyla stood perfectly in the center of the deluge, soaking in the god-like worship with a deeply satisfied smirk. What she couldn’t feel was the massive, terrifying volume of life force being violently sucked out of her marrow to fuel the storm. The rain stopped. When the clouds parted and the blinding desert sun illuminated Lyla’s face, the cheering died instantly. A graveyard silence fell over the camp. Absolute horror was painted on every single face in the crowd. Lyla’s previously youthful, delicate face was literally sagging before their eyes. Her cheeks were hollow and drooping. Deep, heavy laugh lines carved into her face like ravines. And the most terrifying part of all: thick strands of her hair had turned a stark, sickly gray under the sunlight. She no longer looked like a vibrant twenty-year-old. She looked like a haggard, exhausted woman pushing forty. Lyla sensed the dead silence. Her hands shot up, frantically feeling her own face. “My face. Oh my god, what is wrong with my face?!” Overnight, the wasteland goddess mutated into a monster. No one dared to flatter her anymore. The entire squad avoided her like the plague, casting fearful, paranoid glances her way. “Look at her. I swear she aged another year just walking over here.” “That power is cursed. Do you think she’s trading her actual life for the water?” “Shut up! Keep your voice down, or she’ll cut off our supply!” The whispers acted like toxic needles, driving themselves deep into Lyla’s fragile psyche. She locked herself in her tent. She shattered every reflective surface she could find. She spent her days entirely consumed by the suffocating terror of her own rapid decay. Finally, she completely snapped. “Bobby! Get your ass in here right now!” a hysterical, demonic shriek erupted from the tent. Bobby rushed inside, only to find a woman who looked like a deranged asylum patient. She lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar with claw-like fingers. “What the hell is happening to me? What kind of demonic curse did you put inside my body? It is eating my life! It is eating me alive!” Lyla sobbed, her voice raw and jagged. Bobby was equally horrified. Staring at Lyla’s sagging, aged face, a spike of pure ice drove straight up his spine. He wasn’t an idiot. Remembering how violently Serena had convulsed during her awakening, and seeing Lyla’s rapid decay, the truth slammed into him like a freight train. Serena’s Water Affinity demanded lifespan as payment. “I. I had no idea it would do this.” Bobby’s voice shook violently. He tried to peel her off him, but she clung to him like a rabid dog. “You didn’t know?!” Lyla viciously slapped him across the face. “You jammed this death sentence into my soul. And now you tell me you didn’t know?!” She hammered her fists against his chest like a maniac. “Give it back to her! Right now! Do it right now! Give this fucking curse back to that bitch! I don’t want it! I refuse to get old! I don’t want to die!” Her paralyzing fear of aging entirely obliterated her lust for power. Right now, her only goal in life was to throw this ticking time bomb back into the hands of its original owner. Under Lyla’s violent demands, and driven by his own rising terror, Bobby caved. He stumbled out of the tent and marched straight over to where I was sitting in the dirt, idly drawing circles with a dried twig. “Serena.” I looked up slowly, meeting his eyes with absolute deadpan silence. “It seems this ability is better suited for you,” he panted, out of breath. “Lyla’s body can’t handle the strain. I am returning it to you.” 4 His tone was incredibly arrogant, laced with a sickening sense of pity. “This is your destiny, Serena. Do your part and serve the camp until your time is up.” Lyla practically crawled out of the tent, her bloodshot eyes locked onto me like a predator. The rest of the camp gathered around, their faces plastered with cruel, expectant sneers. Bobby didn’t waste another second. He clamped one hand onto my wrist, grabbed Lyla’s trembling hand with the other, and forced his vile ability to activate. “Siphon!” A massive, familiar surge of energy rushed back into my body like a flock of birds returning to the nest. My veins burned with life. I could feel every inch of my skin, every single cell, practically singing in ecstasy. The moment the transfer finished, Bobby swayed violently. His face turned the color of ash. He looked completely hollowed out. But he ignored his own condition. Just like everyone else, his eyes were glued to me. “Do it! Use the power!” Lyla shrieked. She was vibrating with anticipation, desperate to see my skin wrinkle and my hair turn white. “You have the power now, right? Make some water for us!” “Yeah, come on! We’re thirsty!” someone in the crowd mocked. They were all waiting for it. Waiting for me to age. Waiting for my youth to evaporate. Waiting for me to suffer a fate far worse than Lyla’s. In that exact split second, the cold, mechanical voice chimed clearly in the center of my mind. [System Alert: Conduit mode reset.] [Please select your ability conduit: A. Equivalent Exchange. B. Lifespan Consumption.] “Why aren’t you doing it? Are you scared?” Lyla’s shrill voice cut through the air. Seeing my face remain perfectly youthful after receiving the power, a sliver of deep panic began to gnaw at her. “Serena, stop playing games. Produce the water right now!” Bobby barked. He assumed I was just stalling, trying to run away from my inevitable death sentence. Scared? I smiled. In the silence of my mind, I gave the system my final command. “I choose A. Equivalent Exchange.” In a fraction of a second, the fundamental nature of the energy coursing through my veins completely transformed. The violent, life-devouring parasite vanished, replaced by a pure, gentle, elemental force that seamlessly fused with my soul. Under the suspicious, hostile glares of the entire camp, I casually stood up and walked over to a pile of dried, rotted wood we used for firewood. “What the hell is she doing?” “Stop acting crazy!” Lyla and Bobby stared at me unblinkingly. They couldn’t compute why I wasn’t screaming in pain like they expected. I slowly raised my hand and pressed my palm flat against the dead timber. The next second, a miracle occurred. A surge of crystal-clear water, moving as if it had a mind of its own, erupted from the exact spot where my skin touched the dry wood. It cascaded to the ground, instantly forming a pristine, bubbling spring in the dirt. My complexion was glowing. My energy was practically radiating. There was absolutely zero sign of aging. Dead silence. Time literally froze in the camp. Every single expression completely solidified. The cruelty, the mockery, the gleeful anticipation of my suffering. It all shattered, instantly replaced by unfathomable shock and raw, unadulterated horror. “No. That’s impossible.” Lyla was the first to break. She let out a guttural shriek. “How is this happening?! Why aren’t you getting old?! Why?!” She couldn’t process what she was seeing. The exact same ability. On her, it was a lethal, parasitic curse. But in my hands, it was effortless. It was totally harmless. Bobby looked like he had been struck by lightning. He staggered backward, his face totally devoid of blood. He stared at me, then stared at the endless stream of pure water pouring onto the sand. A terrifying realization detonated inside his skull. The power didn’t work the way they thought it did. The rest of the scavengers didn’t even dare to breathe. They stared blankly at me, watching the endless flow of water, looking back up at my flawless, radiant face. The contempt in their eyes vanished entirely, instantly replaced by sheer awe and bone-deep terror. They finally realized the catastrophic magnitude of their mistake. They had treated the true god like a sacrificial lamb. And they had worshipped a pathetic, thieving clown as their savior. I pulled my hand back. The water stopped instantly. Looking at their horrified, trembling faces, a vicious, deeply satisfying thrill of vengeance washed over me.

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When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in my first year of grad school. Before me, Eddie was standing in the stairwell, his eyes red-rimmed, clutching the overdue tuition notice that made him so distraught. He was crouched in the corner of the landing, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, the notice crumpled and smoothed out repeatedly in his hand. I stood before him, two hundred dollars in cash fresh from the bank in my pocket, as memories from my previous life flooded back. Back then, I’d shoved the money into his hand without a second thought. But he later stole my experimental data, published a paper identical to my own research with himself as the primary author, and even married my advisor. When I confronted him, he, holding my advisor’s hand, claimed I was suffering from paranoid delusions. That’s how I ended up dragged into a psychiatric hospital, injected with tranquilizers for three years, and eventually died in a hospital bed. The white ceiling, the myriad needle marks on my arm, and the internal numbness when the tranquilizers were administered still send shivers down my spine. Eddie looked up at me, tears clinging to his face, his lips trembling slightly: “Ethan, I really don’t have any money left. My dad’s sick, and my family truly can’t afford this…” “If I can’t pay my tuition, I’ll have to drop out,” he added, his voice choked. I squatted down, pulled fifty dollars from my pocket, and placed it on his knee. Eddie clearly froze for a moment, looking at me with disbelief. “Take this for now,” I said. “I’ll ask the department about the remaining shortfall. There should be work-study positions available; you can apply for one. That way, you won’t have to pay me back so much all at once.” Eddie looked down at the fifty dollars, unmoving for a long time. After a while, he quietly asked, “Is that… all?” 1 Fifty dollars is a good amount. I only make a hundred and fifty from tutoring each month. I rummaged through my backpack for a piece of paper and handed him a pen. “Write a loan agreement. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just a habit.” Eddie took the pen, his fingers hesitating. He smiled, a smile I knew all too well – lips curved upward, eyes devoid of warmth. “Alright, that’s fair.” He finished writing and handed me the note. I folded it neatly and tucked it into a hidden compartment inside my backpack. On the way back to the dorm, Eddie followed behind me, his voice still tearful. “Ethan, thank you, really. I’ll remember your kindness for the rest of my life.” I hummed, not responding. You said the same thing last time. Then you sent me to a mental institution. I didn’t sleep that night. Once Eddie’s breathing became even, I got up, opened my laptop, and exported all the experimental data from my hard drive. One copy to Google Drive. One copy to Dropbox. One encrypted and compressed, sent to my personal email. After sending that, I sent another to a different email address, titled “Grad School Experiment Progress Backup – Oct 17.” Three locations, three different passwords. I stared at the “sent successfully” notification on the screen, then closed my laptop. The hallway light was broken, flickering erratically. Eddie turned over, mumbled something, and fell back asleep. The next day at the lab meeting, Professor Thorne called on everyone to report their progress. Professor Thorne was forty-one, unmarried, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and exuded a gentle, intellectual aura. In my previous life, I thought she was a good advisor. Now I knew she was a fool easily sweet-talked by a pretty boy. When it was Eddie’s turn to report, he stood up, his voice soft, stumbled over a couple of sentences, and then his eyes reddened. “I’m sorry, Professor, something came up with my family recently, and my progress has been slow…” Professor Thorne pushed up her glasses, her tone gentle. “It’s alright. If you have difficulties, tell me. Don’t carry it alone.” Eddie nodded, secretly wiping away tears as he sat down. Several senior students in the lab looked at him, their eyes full of sympathy. Then it was my turn. I turned my presentation to the third slide and began to present the data I had run that week. Professor Thorne interrupted me halfway through. “What is the basis for setting this variable? Which paper did you reference?” “Dr. Peterson’s 2019 paper, and the one from the MIT group last year—” “Are you sure? I recall the conclusion of that article was inconsistent with your direction.” I recited the literature ID, and Professor Thorne scrolled through her computer, then said nothing. “…Alright, keep running your experiments.” After the meeting, Eddie approached, quietly saying, “Ethan, that experimental design you just presented was pretty good. Could you send me the PPT? I’d like to study it.” I unplugged my USB drive and slipped it into my pants pocket. “I’ll send it to you after I organize it.” I didn’t send it. A week later, he asked again. I said I forgot. He didn’t ask a third time. But that night in the dorm, he lay on the top bunk and suddenly said, “Ethan, do you have a problem with me lately?” “No, why?” “It’s just… I feel like you’re not quite the same as before.” I pulled my blanket up to my chin. “Maybe I’ve just been too busy with experiments lately. Don’t overthink it.” A few seconds of silence. “Oh, alright then. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” I closed my eyes, hearing him toss and turn in the bunk above. Different? Of course, different. The Ethan from my past life was dead, dead on the 1087th day in the mental institution. This Ethan, he was a different beast entirely. Days passed quickly. I was immersed in the lab daily, backing up my data as soon as it came out. Every week, I sent myself an email, logging the week’s experimental progress. My lab notebook was never out of my sight; I even carried it in my backpack to the cafeteria. Eddie began to get close to the other people in the lab. He would bring coffee, one for each person, but never for me. It wasn’t that he forgot—he would count heads right in front of me. “One, two, three… enough.” Then he’d turn and walk away. Liam, a senior lab member, brought me a coffee and whispered, “Ethan, did you and Eddie have a falling out?” “No.” “Then why is he—” “Maybe he forgot.” Liam looked at me, said no more. In mid-November, I was washing my hands in the restroom when I heard someone talking in the adjacent stall. It was Eddie’s voice. “…Ethan is just like that, extremely suspicious. He locks everything up, carries his lab notebook everywhere. I mean, what normal person does that?” Another voice, a junior lab member named Dave, responded, “Huh? Really? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” “I live in the same dorm as him, why would I lie? Last time, he wouldn’t even show me his PPT, and I just asked once, and he gave me that attitude.” “That’s a bit extreme…” “Sigh, I don’t want to badmouth him, but I just feel that, in academia, it’s good for everyone to communicate. For him to act like he’s guarding against thieves, it’s pretty hurtful.” The sound of running water from the faucet masked my footsteps. I turned off the water, dried my hands, and pushed the door open. Dave was just coming out of the stall; seeing me, his face flushed. “Et-Ethan…” “The paper in the restroom is finished. You should tell Facilities.” I walked away. From then on, the atmosphere in the lab changed. When I spoke at group meetings, no one responded. At noon, when everyone went to the cafeteria together, they didn’t call me. Once, I walked past the pantry, and a few people were chatting. When they saw me come in, the conversation suddenly stopped. Dave walked out with his cup, whispering to another junior student, “See, he’s got his notebook with him. Carries it everywhere. Isn’t that a bit much?” I filled my water bottle and walked away. In early December, Professor Thorne called me in for a private talk. When the office door closed, she sat behind her desk, fingers intertwined on the table. “Ethan, some students have expressed that your teamwork spirit in the lab isn’t very good lately.” “What exactly do you mean?” “For example, data sharing, literature discussion—you don’t seem to participate much.” “My data is in a critical phase. I can share it with everyone after the paper is published.” Professor Thorne pushed up her glasses. “To do academia, you need an open mind. Working in isolation won’t lead to good results.” “Professor Thorne, you’ve seen my project’s progress; the data trend is very good right now—” “I know,” she interrupted. “But good project progress doesn’t mean you’re faultless as a person. The lab is a team, do you understand?” I gripped the lab notebook on my lap, saying nothing. “Alright, you can go back. Think carefully.” I stood up and walked to the door. Outside, Eddie was walking towards the office with a cup of coffee. He saw me coming out of the office, froze for a moment, then smiled at me. “Ethan, did the professor call you in?” I ignored him and left. Behind me, I heard Eddie knocking on the door. “Professor Thorne, I bought you an Americano. I saw your office light was still on and figured you must be working late again.” Professor Thorne’s voice leaked through the door crack, ten times softer than when she’d spoken to me. “You’re too kind, dear. Come in and sit.” I quickened my pace. Back in the dorm, I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. My inbox held thirty-two backup emails, each with a clear timestamp. I opened the most recent one; the attachment contained the data I had run last week. Three control experiments, perfect results. This project would be finalized in another six months. In my previous life, when the results were published, the primary author was Eddie. Not this time. I closed my inbox and opened a new document. Title: Eddie’s Loan Record and Repayment Status. He hadn’t paid back a single penny to this day. I saved the document, synchronized it to three cloud drives. Then I turned off the light and lay in bed. Eddie’s voice came from the top bunk. “Ethan.” “Yeah.” “What do you think of Professor Thorne?” “What do you mean, ‘what do I think’?” “Like… do you think she’s easy to get along with?” “She’s an advisor. What does being easy to get along with have to do with anything?” Eddie chuckled. “True. Goodnight.” I didn’t say goodnight. Staring at the ceiling, I counted to three hundred until Eddie’s breathing evened out. I turned over, tucking my lab notebook under my pillow. After spring arrived, Eddie’s attentiveness to Professor Thorne visibly escalated. Mondays, he’d help her organize her desk. Wednesdays, he’d pick up her packages. Fridays, he’d deliver documents to the administrative building for her. On weekends—he started going to Professor Thorne’s house to “help clean.” Everyone in the lab saw it, but no one said anything. Only Liam once said to me in the pantry, “Eddie seems a bit… much lately?” I shook my head. “It’s got nothing to do with me.” “But he—” “Liam, just focus on your own project.” Liam looked at me for a few seconds, sighed, and left. In late March, I submitted my experimental funding application. I waited two weeks, no news. Waited another two weeks, still no news. I went to ask Professor Thorne. “Professor Thorne, my funding application was submitted almost a month ago—” “I’m still considering the direction of your project, no rush.” “But the experimental reagents will soon be—” “I said, no rush.” She didn’t even look up. When I walked out of the office, I happened to see Eddie’s funding approval form pinned to the notice board. Submission date: March twenty-eighth. Approval date: March thirty-first. Three days. My application had been sitting in her drawer for a month; Eddie’s was approved in three days. I stood in front of the notice board, staring at that form for a long time. A junior student walked past, muttering, “Senior Ethan, you’re still looking at that? Eddie’s project direction is indeed very promising.” I turned and left. In April, my funding finally came through. It was one-third less than what I requested. I didn’t argue with Professor Thorne, just paid the remaining two hundred dollars myself to cover the shortfall. The experiment couldn’t stop. In May, my core data started showing results. All three experiments ran perfectly, yielding surprisingly beautiful data. I immediately synchronized it to three cloud drives, and sent myself two emails. One with an attachment, one only with the experimental results and date. Then I opened my lab notebook and neatly copied all the data. After writing, I hesitated. I flipped to the last few pages and, using a pencil, copied a new set of data. This data was almost identical to the original, with just one difference—the p-value for the third control experiment, I changed 0.003 to 0.03. A difference of an order of magnitude. This error wasn’t obvious; it was barely noticeable without careful inspection. But anyone who had done research in this field knew that a p-value of 0.03 meant the results weren’t significant enough, and the conclusion wouldn’t hold. I placed these pages in the latter half of the notebook, inserting a sticky note labeled “To be verified.” Then I closed the notebook and left it on the table. Before, I carried it everywhere. Today, I left it on my lab desk. Before heading to the cafeteria, I adjusted the angle of the desk lamp. A strand of hair was pressed beneath the lamp base. My hair. After dinner, I returned. The lamp’s angle was off by two centimeters. The strand of hair was gone. The position of the lab notebook hadn’t changed, but the sticky note inside had shifted a page. I sat down, said nothing, and opened my laptop to start writing my paper. Late that night, as I left the lab, I passed the surveillance room. The security guard at the door was looking at his phone. “Excuse me, sir, I think I left my campus ID in the lab building last time. Could you check if anyone found it tonight?” “Which floor?” “Third floor.” “Let me check the footage for you.” He opened the surveillance playback. 18:32, I left the lab for the cafeteria. 18:41, Eddie pushed open the lab door and walked in. He stood at my desk, looked left and right, then opened my lab notebook. He flipped to the latter half—the pages where I’d placed the bait data. He pulled out his phone and took photos, page by page. He took four photos, closed the notebook, and put it back in its original place. Then he left. The entire process took less than three minutes. The security guard looked up at me. “Did you find your campus ID?” “Oh, no, maybe it’s not on this floor. Thanks, sir.” “No problem.” I walked out of the surveillance room and stood in the stairwell for a while. The corridor light was sound-activated; if I didn’t move, it wouldn’t light up. In the darkness, I put my hands in my pockets. Alright, Eddie. The fish has taken the bait.

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