Category: English

When my family went bankrupt, my mother’s best friend took me in. That’s how I ended up entangled with the two sons of the illustrious Hayes family for twenty years. Their devotion and fierce protectiveness were the envy of everyone we knew. But when I finally decided I was ready to settle down and start a family, they both turned me down. The older brother, David, said, “My career comes first. I’m not interested in marriage right now.” The younger one, Ethan, said, “I’m still young. I want to have fun for a few more years. Besides, what we have is just a casual fling. It was never serious.” The very next day, at my birthday party, they both proposed to the housekeeper’s daughter. To entertain her, they forced me—a person with a chronic stomach condition—to drink a glass of high-proof liquor. As I was rushed to the hospital with internal bleeding, they both covered her eyes and laughed, mocking me for being dramatic. That was the day my heart finally died. The day I was discharged, I called my mother. “I’m ready,” I told her. “I’ll marry the heir to the Russell fortune.” 1 The autumn wind cut through my thin hospital gown as I stepped outside. My phone rang. It was David Hayes, the older brother. His tone was sharp, laced with blame. “Audrey, where have you been hiding? Did you think running away would solve anything? Get back here right now and apologize to Mina.” I could hear Ethan, the younger brother, in the background. “It’s your fault Mina is upset! You and your fake illness. She’s so fragile, she’s barely eaten in days because of you!” I glanced at my reflection in the glass door. I was a wraith, so thin and frail it looked like a strong gust of wind could carry me away. My stomach has been weak since I was a child, my health always delicate. For years, those two brothers had fussed over me endlessly. I remember one night, I had a severe attack, and David carried me on his back down twenty flights of stairs because the elevator was out. Ethan once scoured the entire city to find a specific rice cake I loved, just to see me smile. They controlled every meal I ate, every sip I took, personally overseeing my diet. But that was all before Mina, the housekeeper’s daughter, arrived. After she appeared, they tossed twenty years of memories aside like trash. I hung up without a word and dialed my mother’s number. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll marry the Russell heir.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Audrey, darling, this is your life. Are you absolutely sure?” When my father passed away and our family business collapsed, my mother sent me to the capital to live with her best friend, while she stayed behind to salvage what was left of our family’s legacy. For twenty years, she worked tirelessly to build a connection with the powerful Russell family, securing a chance for us to rebuild. But more than any business alliance, she cared about my happiness. Even after the Russell matriarch had taken a liking to me, my mother had left the final choice in my hands. I used to believe that true love was worth waiting for, that I would eventually choose between the two Hayes brothers. Now I saw the truth. I was nothing but a diversion for them, a toy to pass the time. I should have left long ago. I opened my phone to book a flight and saw a new post from Mina. It was a picture of her, lounging in my bedroom, flaunting two different diamond rings on her hand. The caption read: True love needs no words. Only desperate old women have to scheme their way to the top. She was wearing the designer suit and crystal heels the Hayes brothers had custom-made for me six months ago as a birthday present. I silently blocked her number. “Mom, I’m serious,” I said, my voice firm. “I want to have a child of my own, soon.” The doctor at the hospital had told me the internal bleeding had taken a serious toll on my body. If I didn’t get pregnant while I was still young, I might never be able to have children. I didn’t have any more time to wait. “Alright,” my mother said, her voice soft with understanding. “I respect your decision. Mrs. Russell has already had your charts read. Next Sunday is an auspicious day for the marriage registration. As soon as you’re back, I’ll arrange everything.” She must have guessed what had happened. Just before hanging up, she added, “Remember to say a proper goodbye to Aunt Caroline.” I looked up at the grey, overcast sky. The doctor said I needed a week to recover. One week. Just enough time to say goodbye to everything. 2 I took a cab back to the villa. The moment I stepped through the door, a jet of cold water hit me full in the face, soaking me to the bone. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so sorry!” Mina cried, holding a garden hose. She didn’t turn off the water until I was completely drenched. “I was watering the flowers. I didn’t see you.” I blinked, trying to clear my vision. My eyes fell on the garden bed. The Mina of the valley flowers I had painstakingly cultivated for years were gone, ripped out. In their place were rows and rows of garish, bright red roses. A gust of cold wind swept through the yard, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over my post-surgery body. I swayed, nearly collapsing. David and Ethan exchanged a look of pure contempt, as if mocking me for putting on a show the moment I returned. “Audrey,” David drawled, “I thought you had more backbone than that. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” “Her own mother doesn’t even want her,” Ethan sneered. “Where else would she go?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I remembered the day I first arrived at the Hayes mansion. Ethan had held my hand, trying everything to make me smile. “Don’t be scared, Audrey,” he’d said. “This is your home now.” David had given me the largest and best room in the house. When the three of us moved into this villa for work, he had remembered all my preferences, decorating the master suite just for me. He had declared to everyone that I was, and always would be, the irreplaceable lady of the house. Everything changed the day Mina arrived, under the guise of helping her mother, the housekeeper. She spent her days either clinging to the brothers or “accidentally” breaking my things. At first, I was patient, understanding that she was unaccustomed to our world. But she grew bolder, eventually shattering a jade pendant my father had left me, right in front of my eyes. When I finally confronted her, David pushed me away. “Mina’s had a hard life,” he’d said, his brow furrowed. “You’re a princess who’s had everything handed to you. Why do you have to pick on a simple girl who doesn’t know any better?” “She’s younger than me,” Ethan had added. “You’re the older one. Can’t you just let things go?” Clutching the broken pieces of my father’s pendant, I felt a profound sense of confusion and helplessness for the first time. After that, I was no longer the center of their universe. The housekeeper’s daughter had slowly, methodically, replaced me. She was the new mistress of the villa, and I was being pushed out. Fine. There was nothing left for me here. I went inside, intending to pack, only to find all my belongings thrown in a heap in the hallway. David stood there with his arm around Mina, looking down at me. “Audrey, you need to understand your place,” he said coldly. “You’re nothing but a parasite, living off our family. You have no right to look down on Mina, and you certainly have no right to throw your princess tantrums at her.” “From now on, you’ll live in the maid’s room. Mina will be taking over your responsibilities at the company. I’m transferring you to logistics. You can stay there until you learn some humility.” Ethan then ripped the head off the teddy bear my mother had given me, tossing it to Mina to make her laugh. “Big sister Audrey,” he cooed, his voice laced with menace, “if you make Mina unhappy again, I won’t be so gentle next time.” Big sister Audrey. The way he said it now was a world away from the adoration it once held. The old me would have been heartbroken, unable to sleep for nights. But I was leaving. I had no time or energy to argue. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I’ll move out as soon as possible. And don’t worry about transferring me. I quit.” David scoffed. “So, you’re determined to be a useless freeloader, living off our family forever.” He sighed. “Fine. For my mother’s sake, I won’t argue with you this time. Just remember your place from now on.” I walked past him, my voice barely a whisper. “There is no ‘from now on.’” This place held so many beautiful memories. But it was never my home. 3 I thought it would take me a long time to pack, but when I looked at my things, there was almost nothing left. Most of my clothes had been chosen by David. “Our Audrey is the most beautiful princess,” he used to say. “She deserves to be dressed beautifully every day.” Now, those clothes were soaked in dirty water, reeking of some foul odor. And I had gone from his princess to a parasite with a princess complex. I pushed the clothes aside and saw photos scattered on the floor. Ethan used to love taking pictures of me, wanting to capture every moment. In every group photo, the two of them would fight to stand closer to me. Now, in those same photos, my face was crossed out with a red marker. I couldn’t bear to look anymore. I swept everything into a trash bag. David and Mina were coming downstairs as I did. A flicker of shock crossed his face. He knew how much I used to treasure those things. But it was quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “You’re quick to waste the Hayes family’s money, aren’t you?” The David I knew would have spent a fortune to make me happy. Now, with Mina by his side, everything I did was wrong. I had lost the right to be willful, and I no longer had the desire to argue. “I’ll pay you back,” I said simply. “The Hayes family doesn’t need your money. Just remember, you are never to bother Mina again.” Mina tugged on David’s sleeve. “David, honey, don’t waste your time on irrelevant people. I still want to go to our secret place and see the stars. Can we go now?” I froze. The “secret place” she mentioned was a rooftop observatory David had built for me when I first came to live with them. His mother, Caroline, was always busy with work, so the task of looking after me had fallen to David, who was six years older. He gave me the best of everything. He called me his moonlight. And so, he designed an eternal starry sky just for me. I remember him looking at me that night, his eyes full of emotion. “Audrey,” he’d said, “remember this. This is your sky. And this is my love, just for you.” We spent twenty years perfecting that starry sky, creating a dreamlike sanctuary. From that day on, the scales of my heart had tipped towards David. But every time I was close to making a choice, Ethan would throw a tantrum, and the moment would pass. Now… they had a new, vibrant red rose. They had long forgotten their pale, faded moonlight. It didn’t matter. I took a deep breath and started to leave. I didn’t want either of them anymore.

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After my family’s bankruptcy, my eerie former follower took me to his tiny apartment. Used to luxury, I scorned the poor food and cramped space. To support me, he worked eight jobs daily—his gaze growing darker each time he watched me. When I finally snapped and prepared to storm out, glowing text appeared in my vision: [Just leave, stupid villainess. Abandon the only person who can restore your fortune.] [Later, she crawls back after learning he could’ve helped her. So pathetic. Then—car crash. The end.] [Go on, throw your tantrum! Our sweet heroine needs you gone to win the male lead~] I froze at “restore your fortune.” “Is the food bad again?” he asked coldly. My hand, mid-slam, hesitated. “…Adequate,” I muttered. 1 To show my sincerity, I scooped up a large spoonful of porridge and stuffed it in my mouth. I didn’t realize that while the surface had cooled, the porridge beneath was still scalding hot. I flinched in pain. “Adrian Denton! Why didn’t you let this cool down before serving it to me!” Tears welled in my eyes. I stuck out my reddened tongue, glaring at him accusingly, completely forgetting my plan to be nice to him for the sake of my inheritance. [I thought the villainess had changed, but nope, still a drama queen! Even if she doesn’t leave, the male lead will get sick of her eventually!] Reading that comment, my arrogant bravado deflated. I was just about to stammer out an apology when Adrian turned and walked away from the table without a word. Panic seized me. I stood there, helpless and frozen. I only snapped out of it when a hand tilted my chin up. Adrian’s gaze, quiet and intense, was fixed on one point. Realizing where he was looking, I tried to retract my trembling, red tongue. An ice cube touched my lips, his fingertips brushing against them. “Keep it in your mouth.” Who gave you permission to order me around? I puffed out my cheeks in protest but, for once, held my tongue. Adrian’s time was limited. After cooking for me, he would quickly wolf down a few bites himself before rushing off to his next part-time job. Before he left, he stared at me for a long moment, his voice low and deliberate. “Wait for me to come back, okay?” I felt a twinge of guilt. If it weren’t for those comments, I would have already stormed out in a righteous huff. But now… running away like a coward wasn’t my style. In Adrian’s eyes, my guilty silence was an admission of my plans. His face darkened, and he strode back, clamping his hand around my wrist. “I’m not going. Helena Vaughn, don’t even think about leaving.” I was on the verge of tears. Our quality of life was already abysmal with him working eight jobs a day. What would happen if he skipped a whole afternoon of work? “I’m not leaving! Adrian, do you still want to buy me designer bags or not? Get to work, now!” After finally shooing him out the door, I collapsed onto the rock-hard bed. The thought of enduring more days like this made me burst into genuine tears. Sob… If I had known, I would have rather died than go home with Adrian that day. 2 For the first twenty-some years of my life, I had everything I could ever want. I was Helena Vaughn, the cherished heiress of the city’s wealthiest family. I was surrounded by an entourage who catered to my every whim. Adrian Denton was the quietest, most unlikable one in the group. As a student my family sponsored, he was quite handsome, and normally I would have enjoyed having someone like that around. But he was utterly incapable of flattery, choosing instead to just stare at me with those somber, unsettling eyes. His constant gaze made me uncomfortable, and I had publicly humiliated him several times because of it. Then, my father’s business went bankrupt, and he was framed and thrown in jail. My former followers moved into my home, and I was thrown out onto the street barefoot. My so-called friends and classmates just laughed at my misfortune. My entourage, threatened by the new powers that be, didn’t dare to help me. Shivering in the cold wind, I was subjected to a level of mockery I had never known. Just as I was sinking into despair, Adrian found me. He gently brushed the dirt and gravel from my feet and, without a word, lifted me onto his back. The hands of this gloomy, cold man were searing hot against my thighs. I sniffled. “What are you doing here? Come to laugh at me, too?” His reply was brief. “I’ll take care of you from now on.” “Why?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I was so awful to you.” I regretted it instantly. Someone was finally here to rescue me, and I was about to freeze to death. After a long pause, Adrian finally spoke. “I’m just repaying a debt. Don’t overthink it.” I was surprised. He actually had a conscience. Shivering, I clung tightly to his back. Adrian looked thin, but his broad shoulders shielded me completely from the wind. He carried me with a steady, unwavering gait, and a strange emotion began to stir within me. I felt an inexplicable urge to cry. I tilted my head up and said, trying to sound nonchalant, “Well… I suppose I’ll allow you to take care of me. For now.” 3 It was only later that I figured it out. That strange emotion must have been gratitude. I was hardly ever grateful to anyone. Since birth, I could have anything I wanted. All the best things in the world were supposed to be mine, so why would I need to be thankful? As a result, my capacity for gratitude was extremely weak. After just one day with Adrian, I was filled with regret and on the verge of a meltdown. When Adrian brought me a glass of water, I sneered, “Did you boil toilet water and decide it was drinkable?” When he cooked for me, I scoffed, “Cheap ingredients combined with your abysmal cooking skills. This is the garbage of all garbage.” I complained all day, right up until bedtime. The moment I lay down, I burst into tears. How could a bed be this hard! Adrian piled everything he could find underneath me, but I still couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning, I finally sat up. “Hey, stop sleeping on the floor. Get up here.” Adrian’s breathing hitched. “Don’t be ridiculous, Helena. How could I sleep with you?” Everyone else called me “Miss Vaughn.” Only Adrian refused. His defiance only fueled my own. “I don’t care! I want you to be my human mattress!” He didn’t move or speak. I pouted. “Fine. If you don’t come up here, I’m not sleeping.” I sat cross-legged on the bed, ready for a standoff. Moonlight streamed through the window, and I saw a flicker of conflict on his face. Finally, he relented. “Just… don’t move around too much. And I won’t either, of course…” Adrian cautioned. But I had already picked my spot. I curled up expertly and wrapped my arms around him. Adrian’s voice caught in his throat. I felt much better. I used to sleep hugging my giant polar bear plushie. Adrian wasn’t as soft, but he was about the same size. My mood lifted. “Good night,” I announced, and promptly fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, the plushie in my arms grew warmer and warmer, like a little furnace. It was so cozy. I hugged it even tighter. 4 From then on, I always slept in the same bed as Adrian. Tonight was no different. Adrian, looking exhausted, brought me a basin of water for my feet. “Wash up and get into bed. I’ll dump this for you after I shower.” The pop-up comments exploded. [Is this villainess for real?! She eats his food, lives in his house, and still makes him dump her foot water? She should be washing his feet!] [Ugh, when is our sweet heroine going to show up? Only she will truly care for our male lead.] [Soon, soon! Then the shameless villainess can get kicked out and live on the streets!] I was a bit stunned. People had always washed my feet for me; I was used to it. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong with Adrian doing it. I mentally kicked myself. I had just resolved to be nicer to him today. So, I got out of bed and clumsily emptied the basin myself. Water splashed onto my hands, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust, washing them several times over. When I returned, Adrian was just getting out of the shower. He froze when he saw me with the empty basin. “Why did you empty it yourself?” I pouted. “Because I felt like it.” Once in bed, Adrian habitually tried to pull me into his arms. I refused. I thought to myself, I emptied the water, and I’m not making you my mattress. That’s good enough, right? He won’t kick me out now. Unexpectedly, Adrian sat up, his face dark, his eyes glinting ominously. “Helena, what’s wrong with you today?” I felt incredibly wronged. I was being so nice to him, and he was still scolding me. I snapped, “I’ll sleep how I want to sleep! Is there a problem?” At my words, his eyes turned red, and his expression became even more terrifying. He gripped my wrist so tightly it left a red mark. “Helena, do you think I’m a toy? Something you can just toss aside when you’re done with it?” He guessed right.

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My arm was linked with a gorgeous model’s, and we were trading flirtatious glances. Across the room, Matt Itzin was gripping a kitchen knife, his face as dark as a thundercloud. Yes, I was a guest star on a reality dating show. And the director’s brilliant idea for my role? Seduce my ex-boyfriend Matt’s on-screen partner. 1. After my breakup with Matt Itzin, I got an invitation to a reality dating show. My job as a guest star was to be the villain, the pot-stirrer sent in to wreak havoc on the show’s established couples. It was a recipe for drama, a surefire way to go viral—even if for all the wrong reasons. The pay was great. For a struggling, D-list actress like me, I had neither the right nor the reason to refuse. Besides, only a fool turns down good money. After a moment’s thought, I gladly accepted. But the second I dragged my small suitcase into the show’s villa, regret hit me like a ton of bricks. Matt Itzin was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug, triumphant look dancing in his eyes. “Regrets?” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath warmed my ear. I straightened my spine, refusing to be intimidated. I tilted my head away, escaping the heat that was making my ears burn. I arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice sharp. “You’re in my way.” He mimicked my expression. “Is that so? What a shame.” I didn’t hesitate. I shouldered past him, my body brushing against his in the narrow doorway. The contact was brief, but it was enough. I felt his breath hitch, his body tense. Maybe I’d pushed too hard, or maybe it was something else entirely. I didn’t care to find out. The small act of defiance did little to quell my anger; instead, it only stirred up hazy, heated memories of our bodies tangled together. Matt and I hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. A month ago, some paparazzo had snapped photos of us entering the same hotel minutes apart. The online fallout was instantaneous, and the weight of public opinion came crashing down on me. I’d never had that kind of attention before, and I couldn’t handle it. A week ago, I’d told him it was over. Of course, Matt hadn’t agreed. I blocked his number, his socials—every possible way he could reach me. I even found a new apartment. I’d buried my head in the sand like an ostrich, but it had worked. At least, I’d been confident it had worked. Confident enough to think I could face him again without falling apart. One look, and that confidence shattered. I practically sprinted to my assigned room, dragging my luggage behind me. The moment the lock clicked shut, I felt my soul rush back into my body. “Phoebe, could you be any more of a coward?!” I raged at myself in the silent room. The sharp ping of a text message cut through the quiet. It was the director, summoning everyone to the main living area. I might be a nobody, but I was a professional. I quickly composed myself, plastered on a smile, and headed downstairs to meet the rest of the cast. “Hi, Phoebe! I’m Mia,” a tall, stunning model greeted me, warmly linking her arm through mine. According to the script, Mia and Matt were supposed to be the show’s golden couple. My job was to do everything in my power to break them up. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. The male contestants were in the kitchen, putting on a show of their culinary skills. Some magnetic pull drew my eyes that way. Matt’s physique was, to put it mildly, flawless. Tall and lean, the crisp white shirt he wore only hinted at the muscle beneath, creating an aura of restrained temptation. As if he could feel my gaze, he froze mid-chop and looked up, his eyes meeting mine. In that split second, I whipped my head back toward Mia, but it was too late. Mia caught the unguarded emotion in my eyes and a flicker of understanding crossed her face. Her professionalism, however, seemed to have been channeled into her role. “I get it,” she whispered, then leaned in closer, her gaze locked on mine. To anyone watching, we were practically snuggling, exchanging intimate glances. Her intense stare was almost too much. I let my eyes drift away, and they landed, inevitably, back in the kitchen. Matt still held the knife. He was staring directly at us, his face impossibly dark. This dating show was all about fast-paced drama, airing the same day it was filmed with minimal editing. It was raw, and it was real. After the first day’s broadcast, the internet exploded. The gossip about Matt and me hadn’t even died down, and here I was, already getting cozy with his on-screen partner, Mia. Some people thought I was just desperate for fame. Others found it thrilling. What’s more dramatic than a love triangle? A love triangle where the “other woman” sets her sights on the girl! The #PhoebeMia ship started trending, and suddenly, we both had a taste of real fame. Mia pulled me aside later, a glint in her eye. She thought we’d stumbled onto a goldmine—a perfect path back into the spotlight. We decided to pitch it to the director. But the moment we walked into the director’s office, my courage evaporated. There he was: Matt Itzin, our resident “Dark and Brooding Superstar,” his face a mask of irritation as he spoke with the director. He looked up as the door opened, his gaze zeroing in on me. My knees felt weak. If Mia hadn’t been holding onto my arm, I would have bolted. “Phoebe, Mia? What’s up?” the director asked, oblivious. “Director, we… um…” Matt’s stare was like a physical weight, pinning me to the spot. My throat went dry, a wave of guilt washing over me. “Since Matt’s here anyway,” Mia said, jumping in smoothly, “Phoebe and I were talking, and we think we’ve found a new angle.” “A new angle?” It wasn’t the director who answered. It was Matt. “Yeah, Matt,” Mia said, completely missing the dangerous edge in his voice. “The #PhoebeMia ship is blowing up online. If we lean into it, the show’s ratings will go through the roof…” With every word Mia spoke, Matt’s expression grew darker. By the time she finished, he looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. The director nervously wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Is that what you want, too?” Matt’s eyes had never left me. He bit out the words, each one a sharp, jagged stone. Under that intense pressure, something inside me snapped. A sudden, reckless courage surged through me. I lifted my chin and met his gaze head-on. “That’s right. I think Mia and I… we make a better pair than you and Mia.” I watched his jaw clench, a thrill of fear and satisfaction running through me. I added, a little shakily, “At least, that’s what the audience thinks.” Mia nodded enthusiastically beside me. The director looked like he wanted to crawl under his desk. A bitter, humorless smile twisted Matt’s lips. He nodded slowly. “Phoebe,” he breathed, “you’ve got some nerve.” The director raised a timid hand. “So, uh, Matt… about the script?” Matt leaned against the desk, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. After a long moment, he sighed. “Change it. Do what she wants.” Mia reacted instantly. She grabbed my arm, pulled me into a perfect ninety-degree bow, and then hustled us out of the room before he could change his mind. That night, the director sent over the new script. Along with it came a contact recommendation for Matt’s number. Phoebe, Matt said you blocked him. Could you… maybe add him back? His profile picture was a solid black icon with a tiny mute symbol I’d doodled on it ages ago. I used to tease him that it was perfect for him, a man of few words. Now, ironically, I was the one who couldn’t find the words to say what I felt. I sent the friend request. He accepted it a second later, as if he’d been waiting. I clutched my phone, my eyes glued to the screen. One second, two… One minute, two… Half an hour passed. Nothing. A sigh escaped my lips, a bitter mix of disappointment and self-recrimination welling up in my chest. I was the one who’d ended things. I was the one who’d run away. What right did I have to feel sorry for myself now? You’re being pathetic, I told myself. But tears betrayed me, streaming down my face as if to mock my own hypocrisy. After lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling for a while, I picked up my phone again and, on autopilot, opened Matt’s social media feed. He rarely posted, so I wasn’t expecting anything. But there it was. A new post, right at the top. A screenshot of tomorrow’s weather forecast, showing a blistering heatwave. The caption read: Don’t forget sunscreen. It hit me then. Back when we were together, Matt had always been the one to check the weather for me. It had become a habit, one I’d completely forgotten. Habits are terrifying things. With a heavy heart, I moved the weather app back to my phone’s home screen. The next day’s activity was a camping trip and a cookout. The other contestants were groaning about the heat. “Which idiot scheduled a camping trip in this heat?” an influencer muttered beside me. “Seriously,” Mia chimed in. “We won’t even need a lighter. We could probably just spontaneously combust.” I was doing okay, thanks to the warning. I wasn’t feeling the heat as badly as the others. Up ahead, Matt, who had been leading the group, glanced back. His eyes swept over me, from my sun hat down to my long sleeves. A small, satisfied smile touched his lips when he saw I was fully prepared. I felt a flush of awkwardness and instinctively ducked behind the person next to me. Only after I’d hidden did I realize my mistake. The influencer gave me a knowing look, then glanced between me, Mia, and his own on-screen partner. “Did we switch partners again without telling me?” he asked, confused. Before I could form a reply, a hard, muscular arm wedged between us, creating a solid barrier. “We didn’t switch,” Matt said, his voice cold and final. “Go find your own partner,” he told the influencer, but his eyes were locked on me. I’d grown somewhat accustomed to his constant staring over the past couple of days. The initial heart-pounding panic had faded into a defiant boldness. I met his gaze. “I need to find my partner, too.” A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. “Go ahead.” But he didn’t move. He stood there, blocking my path. Mia and the others were getting further ahead. Panicked, I jabbed him with my elbow. “Would you move?” He took the hit without flinching. “Your partner is right here. Who are you looking for?” I froze. “What?” He stepped aside, gesturing to the side of the path. A camera was set up there, pointed directly at us. Matt’s features were sharp, but his fair complexion softened his intensity. Backlit by the sun, every strand of his hair seemed to glow, giving him a warm, youthful aura. It was only then I realized he’d been walking just ahead of me the whole time, his body blocking the worst of the sun. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. The feelings I thought I’d suffocated were clawing their way back to the surface. Matt leaned down, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. A devastatingly charming smile played on his lips. “You know what sells even better than a girl stirring up trouble?” he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic hum. I shook my head, mesmerized. He let out a soft chuckle. “The male pot-stirrer.” I was stunned. What was happening? I thought the script was changed so that Mia and I… And then it hit me. Originally, Matt and Mia were the couple, and I was the villain. But now that Mia and I were the couple, the villain role had fallen to… I looked at him in disbelief. He just winked at me. The director, seeing the perfect chemistry unfolding, gestured for two more cameras to surround us. I was trapped in a 360-degree prison of lenses. I took a deep breath, shoving down my shock, and managed a shy, bashful smile for the cameras. Now that’s professionalism, I thought, giving myself a mental high-five. My pride lasted about three seconds before I was completely outmatched. With a subtle flick of his fingers, Matt hooked the small bag I was carrying out of my hand. As he took it, his thumb brushed deliberately across my palm. A jolt shot through me. I instinctively tried to pull away, but his other hand shot out and steadied me. “Careful,” he whispered. His voice was soft, but his touch was electric. Every inch of skin he’d touched was burning. I lowered my voice. “An A-list actor like you, stooping to play the villain?” He leaned in, his voice just as low. “We dumpees have to be this desperate, you know.” “…” I glanced at the cameras. From the slight smirk on the cameraman’s face, I knew our entire exchange had been captured. But I wasn’t too worried. From the way the director deferred to him, it was clear Matt was the one calling the shots on this show. He’d never let a clip air that showed a superstar like him getting dumped by a nobody. It would be humiliating. I told myself it was only for a few more days and decided to just roll with it. Thankfully, a few other contestants swarmed Matt for some screen time, giving me a moment to breathe. When we reached the campsite, my official partner, Mia, started on the food while I tackled the tent. We kept up the act, exchanging flirtatious looks and “accidental” touches. Working with a beautiful woman was always a pleasure, and I was grinning like an idiot, fully committed to selling our on-screen romance. I was about to lean in for another “candid” moment when the collar of my shirt was yanked, and I was pulled backward. “Phoebe!” Mia cried out, but when she saw who was behind me, her expression shifted to one of subtle amusement. I stumbled into a solid chest, enveloped by a cool, clean scent that felt all too familiar. A soft chuckle vibrated against my ear. “So clumsy,” that familiar voice teased. “…” I said, deadpan. “I wonder whose fault that is.” He accepted the blame without missing a beat. “Mine.” I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped me, a real, genuine laugh that seemed to wash away all the tension and gloom of the past few days. Matt took the small hammer from my hand and started assembling the tent. He wasn’t just handsome; he was also incredibly skilled. The pile of poles and fabric that had been a confusing mess to me came together like magic in his hands. Within minutes, the tent was halfway done. Other contestants gathered around, drawn by the spectacle. “Wow, Matt, you’re a natural at this!” “I knew you could cook, but you can build a tent, too? Is there anything you can’t do?” “Hey, superstar, help us out next, will ya?” “Get in line! He’s only showing off to impress a certain someone, hahaha!” The group’s playful chatter filled the air, creating a lively, fun atmosphere. Amid the noise, a strange feeling washed over me, and I found myself looking at Matt, the center of attention. His eyes were already on me. Through all the laughter and chatter, his gaze was a steady, burning intensity. It was a look so focused, so unwavering, it felt like he was trying to etch my image into his memory, to brand it onto his soul. So he would never forget. The tent was finished in no time. Matt casually walked over, pulled up a folding chair, and sat down beside me. The other groups were still struggling, making our corner of the campsite feel like a peaceful oasis. “Here you go, babe. Open up.” Mia held out a piece of freshly grilled meat, blowing on it gently before holding it to my lips. “Delicious!” I gave her a thumbs-up. A couple of the other female contestants wandered over to chat. We were in the middle of some juicy gossip when a long, elegant hand appeared in front of me, holding a piece of crisp lettuce. “Here you go, babe. Open up.” I stared in shock at Matt. The others erupted in whistles and cheers. Matt, however, looked genuinely confused. “What? That’s what Mia just called you.” Before I could argue, he pressed on. “She can, but I can’t?” Gasps and whoops echoed around us. My own heart was doing a frantic dance in my chest. No wonder they say you only hate a pot-stirrer when they’re not stirring the pot for you. Experiencing it firsthand was a whole different story. Another group finished their tent just in time to hear his question. Ryan, an actor known for his roles in teen dramas, yelled out, “Matt, a man can never say he can’t do something!” Everyone burst out laughing. To my surprise, Matt played along. “You’re right. I guess I have to, then.” Mia, my official partner, wasn’t about to be outdone. She wrapped her arm around mine and leaned against me possessively. She pointed at Ryan. “Hey! Only I get to call her ‘babe.’ Right, babe?” Caught in the middle, I laughed and nodded, feeling the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes on me, like a row of spotlights. The director, sensing the peak in atmosphere, called for a cut and announced the start of the game. This show was built on drama. Each team was a trio: an on-screen couple and a designated villain. Our team was the exception. We had a male villain. And he was still fixated on whether he could call me ‘babe’ as the director explained the rules. “The four teams will be split into two larger groups. You’ll take turns throwing darts. No one can throw for you. If one person misses the target, the entire team has to start over. The first group where every member hits the target wins a gourmet meal prepared by the crew and a luxury prize.” The target wasn’t far, and under normal circumstances, hitting it would be easy. But after a long, hot morning, everyone was exhausted, which made the challenge significantly harder. “Dude, Matt, are you even human?” After hitting his sixth bullseye in a row, Matt had successfully earned the awe and envy of everyone present. Following his lead, Mia and I, having conserved our energy thanks to Matt’s tent-building, were hitting the target five times out of six. The other team in our group, however, was struggling, barely hitting it at all. Though our two teams had vastly different high points, our low points were surprisingly similar. After the other team failed yet again, Mia grabbed a selfie stick and playfully chased after them. “That’s it, I’m coming for you! I’m starving!” They ran, laughing and dodging, turning the scene into a ridiculous, chaotic chase. I was watching, thoroughly amused, when a weight settled on my shoulder. The cool, familiar scent filled my senses as Matt rested his head on my shoulder, his soft hair tickling my cheek. I squirmed, trying to turn away from the ticklish sensation. The next second, a hand with long, elegant fingers gently cupped my chin, turning my face back to his. The distance between us was dangerously small. Another inch, another breath, and our lips, separated for so long, would be pressed together just like they used to be. Muscle memory is a terrifying thing. My mind went blank, a roar filling my ears as blood rushed to my limbs, paralyzing me. I risked a glance to the side. Mia and the others were still fooling around, oblivious to what was happening here. “Look at me, okay?” Matt’s eyes were hazy, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. His voice was a low, husky whisper. “Just look at me. Please?” That was something I couldn’t do. My body, frozen for what felt like an eternity, suddenly lurched back to life. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I shoved him away. Matt, caught off guard by my sudden rejection in the middle of such a charged moment, stumbled back, a look of pure shock on his face.

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My best friend started dating a trust fund kid, and while I felt a pang of envy, I genuinely wished her well. Of course, she didn’t abandon our friendship for romance. She invited me to her boyfriend’s equestrian center. The only catch was I couldn’t bring my own boyfriend. I didn’t quite get it, but I went anyway… 1 “No, darling… Stop, not like this…” Chloe’s hushed, breathless gasps floated from inside the horse stalls. I stood peeking from just outside the semi-open stable partition, my legs instinctively squeezing together. As a powerful stallion in the stall suddenly shook its head, tossing its mane, Chloe’s voice rose into a desperate cry. Ethan Stone, Chloe’s boyfriend, towered over her by at least two heads. The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed smooth, powerful muscles. “Just one more time, baby,” Ethan murmured, his body still tense with unsatisfied energy. But Chloe sounded truly overwhelmed. “No, please, there are people everywhere! Someone might see us… And I genuinely can’t take any more!” Ethan and Chloe had been dating for over six months, and their intimacy had always been a bit… unbalanced. Mainly because Ethan had boundless energy and a definite thrill-seeker’s streak. Chloe had complained to me multiple times that she was practically living on soothing creams, avoiding intimacy whenever possible. I’d always thought she was humble-bragging, trying to sound good. But witnessing Ethan’s raw, untamed power today, I finally understood the monumental difference between people! My own boyfriend, even with a little help, couldn’t match a tenth of Ethan’s intensity. Chloe’s desperate, almost “begging for mercy” expression, I honestly felt a strange urge to experience it myself. But she was my best friend. I had to brutally squash those outrageous thoughts. By the time Chloe and Ethan reappeared, I had changed into a sleek riding outfit. “Mia, you look incredible in that!” Chloe said, propping her chin on her hand, nodding and praising me. She even pulled me over to Ethan. “Isn’t she, Ethan? Absolutely stunning!” My figure was indeed quite defined – a wasp waist and rounded hips. The riding breeches, though form-fitting, hugged my curves perfectly, emphasizing a blend of strength and softness. The overall effect was undeniably alluring. I secretly glanced at Ethan. His eyes unintentionally lingered on my thighs, as if trying to see through the fabric. Remembering his still-unsatisfied expression from just moments ago with Chloe, I subtly bit my lip. Just that look from him had almost made me blush. These breeches were so tight, any visible reaction would be impossible to hide. “Could you help me find a coach, please?” I quickly changed the subject, trying to cover my embarrassment. Ethan also had shares in this equestrian center, so Chloe had insisted on covering all costs for my visit. As an average working-class person, I’d never ridden a horse before. But Chloe just smiled, telling me not to worry – Ethan would teach me himself. “Oh, no, that’s too much trouble,” I stammered, my face flushing instantly as I pictured him teaching me, meaning we’d be pressed together. I shook my head, waving my hands in refusal. Chloe, however, was oblivious. With a generous shove to my rear, she helped me onto the horse. Ethan, with practiced ease, stepped into the stirrup and swung onto the saddle behind me. All I could do was grip the reins, my back stiff and unmoving. I kept repeating to myself: The more Chloe trusts me, the more I must uphold my boundaries! But before my mental defenses were fully in place, Ethan’s firm chest pressed tightly against my back. In one fluid motion, his long, strong arms wrapped around me, enclosing me completely. I could even catch a faint scent of his still-present musk. Bouncing gently on the horse’s back, within a few minutes, I felt a shameful, unfamiliar sensation where my body met the saddle. Ethan didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He meticulously adjusted my posture, even explaining some quick tips for riding. I wasn’t really listening. His closeness, combined with the vivid image of him with Chloe in the stable, kept replaying in my mind. “Ah!” I gasped, distracted and missing Ethan’s warning that he was about to start. When the horse began to trot, I lost my balance and nearly fell. Fortunately, Ethan caught me, pulling me back until his upper body was even more tightly against mine. “Relax, don’t be so stiff. Loosen your legs.” Ethan’s hand glided over my thigh, sending a jolt of heat through me. Just as I wondered if I was overthinking it, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Why are you clenching so tight…?” What… what was that? What kind of suggestive comment was that? I turned, shocked, to look at Ethan. He merely smiled, calm and composed. “The horse’s sides, don’t grip them so hard…” Oh. Right. He meant the horse’s sides. My mind had definitely gone to the wrong place. I released my grip a little, feeling a bit embarrassed. “My riding skills are excellent, no need to be scared. Chloe told you, right?” Ethan’s voice was full of self-assurance. I secretly muttered: She did, actually. But she said you ride her like your personal racehorse! After riding for a while, I started to relax, both physically and emotionally, so I instinctively leaned back. Because my hips were quite pronounced, their curve fit perfectly between Ethan’s legs. I felt a searing heat, as if pierced, and quickly straightened my back, hearing Ethan suppress a groan in my ear. “Engage your core. I’m going to speed up.” Ethan’s tone held an odd, almost suggestive double meaning. “Core?” I hadn’t quite registered it when Ethan nudged the horse’s sides, and we began to gallop around the arena. “Horse riding helps strengthen your core, your boyfriend will benefit from it too.” What did that have to do with my boyfriend? Ah… when I finally pieced it together, I was too mortified to respond. So I simply shut my mouth and focused on riding. As the horse’s back moved up and down, a jolt, like electricity, seemed to shoot from my tailbone. The noisy equestrian center felt as if it had suddenly fallen silent, like we were in a vacuum! Even at the most intense moments with my boyfriend, I’d never experienced anything like this. Yet, with Ethan, even with clothes between us, I felt like I was about to burst into fireworks. Finally, the excruciating riding lesson concluded. My legs were so weak, Chloe thought I was just shaken from my first time on a horse. So she told Ethan to help me dismount. But because my legs were completely jelly, I nearly fell. Ethan had to steady me by cupping my rear. His hand was large, his fingers long, and somehow, he brushed against my sensitive spot. “Ah!” I cried out involuntarily. “What’s wrong?” Chloe immediately asked with concern. “My leg… my leg just cramped up,” I mumbled, making up a quick excuse, hoping to brush it off. That evening, after dinner, Chloe suggested we go to the mountain peak behind the equestrian center to watch the sunset. I didn’t want to be a third wheel, but Chloe sweet-talked and pleaded until I finally agreed to go. “What? We’re riding horses? I’m wearing a skirt!” We drove the SUV to the foot of the mountain, where two horses were waiting in the shade. Chloe said it was fine, the horses would just walk up the mountain, so a skirt was no issue. Ethan had a small pony specifically for Chloe, which only she could ride. And because I was new to riding, for safety, I would share a horse with Ethan. I initially refused flat out, wanting to head straight back to the stables. But Chloe pointed out there was no driver, so I’d have to hike back alone. It was almost sunset, and walking alone through a deserted rural road at night was truly unsettling. I reluctantly got onto the horse. My skirt wasn’t short, but the specific riding posture meant the white fabric barely covered my backside, preventing a full exposure. My bare, pale thighs were fully exposed, a stark contrast against the dark, glossy horsehair. “The mountain path here is tricky. Hold on tight to me.” Ethan held the reins with one hand, and with the other, he gripped the saddle, his fingers brushing against me subtly. As the horse swayed and bumped, I fought to suppress involuntary shivers. Ethan’s breathing grew heavier and heavier. Watching Chloe and her small pony disappear further and further into the distance, a deeply immoral thought sparked within me. Just as I was locked in a battle between my conscience and my desires, Ethan’s hand moved away from the saddle. The receding heat instantly snapped me back to reality. I was secretly relieved that I hadn’t done anything irreversible when suddenly, a low-hanging vine on the narrow mountain path forced me to press my entire upper body onto the horse’s back. But I forgot about this position—front low, back high—which rendered my skirt’s covering function almost useless. A chill swept over me, and only then did I remember that for breathability and a seamless look, I was wearing a thong. But it was too late to adjust myself. Ethan… …pulled me forcefully back against him. I could distinctly feel a warmth, like body heat. The sensation of sitting down again was no longer the cold saddle. For a moment, I forgot who Ethan was, and who I was. In this desolate outdoor spot, only the horses tied nearby and the sound of Ethan’s and my panting filled the air. The sky grew darker and darker. I don’t know how long it lasted, but I only knew it was an experience I’d never had before. Both in terms of duration and intensity, Ethan was truly different. He could go on and on, like a tireless colt. Changing various positions and methods to sustain the session. Our encounter finally ended with Ethan’s complete release. Lying on the grass, Ethan slowly remarked, “You’re something else. You’re the first one who didn’t beg for mercy.” I rolled over, grinning mischievously at him, “Want to go for round two??” Just as Ethan was about to launch his second “attack,” his phone rang. It turned out he’d promised his family he’d be home for dinner. He hadn’t returned, so they were calling to check in. Ethan told me he’d originally expected me to give up quickly, leading to a quick and unsatisfying end, which was why he’d agreed to go home for dinner with his mom. He simply hadn’t anticipated such a long “performance” time. Ethan was reluctant to leave, asking if we could meet again tomorrow. I understood what Ethan meant, but then I suddenly thought of Chloe. I felt uncertain about how I would face her in the days to come.

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Senior year, my parents cut off all my living expenses, trying to force me to drop out of high school. With nowhere else to go, I walked through the gilded gates of Sterling Crest Academy, a boarding school teeming with the children of the one percent. My grades were my golden ticket; the school had waived my tuition. But I still needed to eat. After two weeks of gnawing hunger, dressed in my most threadbare clothes, I finally worked up the nerve. I turned to the classroom of trust-fund kids who treated school like a social club. “Does… does anyone need homework done? It’s… it’s just five bucks a page.” The boisterous chatter of princes and princesses, busy comparing their summer yachts and winter chalets, died down. Every eye in the room swiveled to me, a mix of shock and morbid curiosity on their faces. A moment of stunned silence, and then, an eruption. “Five bucks? Who do you think you’re insulting? I’ll give you five hundred. Do mine first!” “Five thousand! I’m first in line!” “Fifty thousand! In cash!” “Forget bidding. A hundred grand. I dare any of you to try and take my spot!” 1 The day I was kicked out of my home, I had just started my senior year. My father’s face was a mask of fury, his finger jabbing at my nose. “Other girls your age are already bringing value to their families, getting married! But you? All you do is bleed me dry. You’re a worthless money pit.” My mother chimed in, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. “Aria, if you don’t find a husband, how is your brother Kyle supposed to have a future? Where will the money for his life come from?” I clutched a stack of academic awards, my voice raw as I argued with them, but it was useless. I fled the house, his voice chasing me down the street. “Let’s see how long you last before you come crawling back! How are you going to even think about college without my money?” With my transcript in hand, I went from one high school to another. The answer was always the same. “Your grades are impressive, Aria, but who’s to say they won’t slip in your final year?” “The best we can offer is to waive your tuition.” It wasn’t enough. Clutching my last shred of hope, I found myself standing before Sterling Crest Academy. This was a playground for the rich and famous, a sea of trust-fund babies. Their days were a blur of petty fights and ostentatious displays of wealth. No one cared about academics. For them, college entrance exams were just a formality before they were all shipped off to study abroad. When I stood in the admissions office, my worn-out clothes a stark contrast to the polished mahogany, the Dean of Students gave me a once-over, her gaze dripping with disdain. “Are you certain you want to be here? Aren’t you afraid you’ll be eaten alive?” I shook my head, my jaw set. “As long as you can waive my tuition… and maybe offer a small scholarship…” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Just a little… maybe a hundred, no, fifty dollars a month would be enough. I promise I’ll work harder than anyone. I’ll bring honor to this school when I get into the Ivy League.” The dean nodded, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She agreed. I clutched the ten thousand dollars they advanced me from a special “hardship fund,” a torrent of thank-you tumbling from my lips as I backed out of her office. The moment the heavy door clicked shut, I heard her scoff to someone in the room. “Fifty bucks a month? Who does she think she’s kidding?” 2 I made it. I was standing in a Sterling Crest classroom. The usual cacophony of the rich and bored paused as they took me in, their eyes wide with a mix of confusion and amusement. “What is she wearing? Are those… holes? Is that Louis Vuitton’s new war-torn Baghdad collection?” “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s obviously Chanel’s dystopian couture.” “The fabric is incredible, though. It’s so worn, but it hasn’t completely disintegrated. Can’t be designer. Only cheap knock-offs are built to last like that.” “Oh, you’d know all about cheap, wouldn’t you?” “Are you calling me cheap? You’re dead! I’m telling my father to pull all his investments from your family’s company tomorrow!” Two of the boys were now wrestling on the floor between desks. I calmly navigated around them, my face a mask of neutrality, and found my assigned seat in the corner, right next to the trash can. I tuned out the whispers and jeers. After the things I’d heard from my own parents, the taunts of these spoiled brats were like background noise. I had a place to study. I had a shot at a real future. That’s all that mattered. To my surprise, no one actively bullied me. During a break, a girl with bright, curious eyes and a genuinely sweet smile bounced over to my desk. Her name was Willow Fairchild. “Aria,” she said, her head tilted. “Why are your clothes so… vintage? Didn’t you like any of the new season’s collections?” “Is it possible,” I said dryly, “that I simply can’t afford them?” “Why not? Did your parents cut off your allowance? You can just draw from your trust fund, can’t you?” I sighed. A trust fund. What was that? Willow propped her chin on her hand. “So, how’d you get here this morning?” “I walked. Woke up before dawn.” “Why didn’t you just have your driver bring you?” “I don’t have a car. Or a driver.” “Oh. Well, why not take your motorcycle?” “Don’t have one of those either.” “Oh! I get it,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “You only fly. Your helicopter must be in for repairs this morning, right?” I hid my face behind my textbook. Forget it. We were speaking different languages. 3 Two weeks into the semester, I was a ghost, a shadow in the corner of the classroom, devouring textbooks and practice exams. The teachers started to notice me, to appreciate me. I was the only student who actually listened, the only one who would raise a hand to answer a question, saving them from the awkward silence of a room full of disinterest. But my focus was starting to fray. I was hungry. So hungry my stomach felt like a hollow, aching pit. I felt like I could gnaw on the corner of my desk. My tuition was covered, but I still needed a place to live. The dean had flatly refused my request to stay in the dorms, claiming my “socio-economic background” would make the other students uncomfortable. So, I had to rent a room off-campus. And in New York City, that was a nightmare. After haggling until my throat was raw, a landlord finally agreed to let me pay six months’ rent upfront for a tiny attic room in a crumbling building miles away in the outer boroughs. My ten-thousand-dollar scholarship advance evaporated, leaving me with just five hundred dollars. After paying for utilities and a metro card, I had nothing left. My grades weren’t good enough yet to guarantee an Ivy League acceptance, so I didn’t dare ask the dean for more money. My life was a frantic balancing act, and despite studying every waking moment, my last exam score was only good enough for a decent state school, not Harvard or Yale. I wasn’t some protagonist from a fantasy novel who could ace every test while juggling a dramatic love life. I was just Aria, and I was starving. It had been over eight hours since my last meal—a half-eaten steak and a mostly intact tuna sandwich I’d salvaged from the cafeteria trash can yesterday. It was delicious, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I bit my lip, watching my classmates pack up for the day. They were chattering about a golf trip to the Hamptons, or maybe a party on someone’s yacht. I squeezed my hand into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. Steeling myself, I stood up and spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “Excuse me… does anyone need homework done? I’m… I’m only charging five bucks a page.” 4 I’d never seen any of these kids do a single piece of homework. Every assignment the teachers gave was dutifully noted by me and me alone, completed under the dim light of a salvaged desk lamp in my sweltering attic room. My question hung in the air. The boisterous chatter of princes and princesses, busy planning their evening’s extravagances, died down. Every eye in the room swiveled to me, their expressions a perfect tableau of disbelief. Willow’s voice, laced with genuine confusion, was the first to break the silence. “Aria, our class president… you actually do the homework?” Ever since I’d become the teachers’ pet, I’d been “promoted” to class president. The title mostly meant I was responsible for all the classroom chores. My voice was as small as a mosquito’s buzz. “Yes. I’m fast, and I’m good. My work is almost always a hundred percent correct. If you ever need someone… you could consider me.” I swallowed hard, trying to sound business-like. “And I’m not expensive. Five dollars per worksheet. Buy four, get one free.” Remembering that their families were all business magnates, I quickly added, “The price is, of course, negotiable.” The shock on their faces cracked, replaced by something wild and competitive. A wave of shouts crashed over me. “Five bucks? Are you kidding me? Who do you think you’re insulting? Five hundred! I want you to do mine first! I want my dad to see that his son is finally hitting the books.” “Five hundred? That’s pathetic. I’ll pay five thousand for the top spot!” “Fifty thousand! In U.S. dollars! Money is the one thing I’m not short on!” “To hell with bidding! I’m putting a hundred grand on the table. Let’s see who’s got the deepest pockets tonight. First one’s mine, and I dare anyone to challenge me!” 5 The classroom descended into chaos. The numbers they were throwing around were getting more and more absurd, as if my scribbled calculus solutions were lost Shakespearean folios. “No, no, please!” I waved my hands frantically. “It’s just five dollars. I can’t take more. If you’re serious, I’ll just take you in the order you asked.” I tried to explain. “It’s just math and science. It won’t take me that long.” This had to be a long-term business. A steady stream of income. I was terrified that if I took too much, one of their parents would notice and shut the whole thing down. I’d learned my lesson back in middle school when I took a six-dollar rush job and the kid’s mom called my house, screaming at me for an hour. The shouting continued, but Willow, with surprising swiftness, claimed the first spot. She triumphantly transferred twenty dollars to my phone. My second-hand phone lagged for a full minute before the transaction confirmed. Staring at the balance—$20.00—a jolt of pure joy shot through me. “You can count on me, Willow,” I promised, my voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I’ll make sure your homework is a work of art.” That day, I made one hundred dollars. Five assignments. I stayed up until one in the morning, meticulously completing each one. I never took on more than I could handle perfectly. Quality was my brand. The next day, as the final bell rang, I watched another hundred dollars appear in my account. I was about to grab the tattered—but authentic—Chanel backpack I’d fished from a dumpster and head home when a figure blocked my path. It was Seraphina Covington, the undisputed queen of the school, the richest and most volatile of them all. She examined her diamond-encrusted nails, then flicked her chin towards her two loyal followers. “Drag her to the girls’ bathroom.” 6 Even the bathrooms at Sterling Crest were more spacious and opulent than my entire attic apartment. But that was cold comfort as sweat beaded on my forehead. School was out. The halls were empty. No one would hear me scream. Was this it? Was she going to beat me up? But why? What had I done? Since the day I’d arrived, I had made myself as small and invisible as possible. I was a ghost, a non-entity. When they flaunted their new toys in my face, I would stare at the dizzying logos and quickly say, “Wow, that’s beautiful. It must have been incredibly expensive.” That always seemed to satisfy them. “Expensive?” they’d scoff. “Only a pauper like you would think so. This little thing was barely a million.” The five dollars I’d earned from her last night wouldn’t even buy a single thread on one of her handbags. Seraphina smiled, a slow, menacing curl of her lips. She reached out and tipped my chin up with a perfectly manicured finger. “You’re our class president…” She drew the words out, each syllable a drop of ice water on my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs. I frantically replayed the last month in my head. I’d never crossed Seraphina. I praised her wealth. I did her homework on time. Her fiancé, Julian, was also in our class, and the only thing I’d ever said to him was, “Julian, Seraphina’s waiting for you downstairs. Something about taking the yacht out.” I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to offend her. Her two friends gripped my arms, their fingers digging in like talons. I couldn’t move. Okay, Aria, I thought, my mind racing. If it comes to it, drink some toilet water, beg for mercy. Whatever it takes to appease the queen. Just let me stay in this school. Seraphina leisurely pulled out her phone. The sharp tap-tap-tap of her nails on the screen was the only sound in the cavernous room. Her voice, crisp and clear, echoed from above me. “In a moment, you’re going to talk. Make sure you know what to say… and what not to say.” 7 My heart pounding in my throat, I watched as she dialed a number. A deep, authoritative man’s voice answered on the other end. “Seraphina, sweetheart, what is it?” “Daddy,” she cooed, her voice all sugar and honey. “You won’t believe it, but I did all my homework myself last night. My fingers are still aching! If you don’t believe me, ask my class president. She’s the one who’s on track for a full ride to Yale, you know.” She held the phone out to me, her eyes flashing a silent, deadly warning. I swallowed, my mouth completely dry. “Hello, Mr. Covington. My name is Aria Thorne. I’m… I’m the class president. And, uh… Seraphina really did do her own homework.” “Is that so? When did she find the time?” My brain kicked into overdrive. Seraphina had been out on her yacht all evening. There were no witnesses at sea. “Right after school, sir. She said she wanted to focus on her studies, so she stayed late in the library to finish her assignments.” A satisfied smile bloomed on Seraphina’s face. She nodded. “You hear that, Daddy? I really did it.” “Haha! That’s my girl! Finally taking your studies seriously. You know what? I’m adding an extra million to your monthly allowance as a reward!” Seraphina hung up, looking smug. “You’re smarter than you look,” she said, her voice back to its usual icy tone. “I’m the sole heir to the Covington Corporation. My father doesn’t have any other children, no bastards hiding in the woodwork. The entire empire will be mine.” She leaned in close. “From now on, you do my homework every day. And don’t worry,” she added with a smirk, “I’ll make it worth your while. But if you even think about crossing me… you’ll find out that there are fates worse than being poor.” I nodded frantically, like a bobblehead doll. The hands on my arms released their grip. Seraphina sauntered out, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Only when she was gone did I dare to breathe again. I snatched my bag from the floor and bolted, my heart still hammering as I ran for home. The detour had cost me time. By the time my long journey back to my attic was over, the sky was already turning a dusky gray. All I could think about was the mountain of homework waiting for me. I hurried my steps. As I turned into the dilapidated alley leading to my building, two figures stepped out of the shadows. They had been waiting. My father’s voice, cold and chilling, cut through the evening air. “You’ve been hiding for a month. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

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Tristan Chase, the campus heartthrob with a chiseled six-pack, confessed his love to me. Just as I was about to nod, a stream of text scrolled across my vision, like comments on a livestream: 【Don’t tell me she’s actually falling for it.】 【He’s just using a random girl to make Bea jealous.】 【This girl is such a clown! She’s so plain, there’s no way a guy like Tristan would ever be into her!】 I cocked my head. “So, you’re single right now?” Tristan nodded without a moment’s hesitation. The next second, I pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. … Tristan froze, his entire body rigid. I, however, was just getting started. I grinned and bit his lower lip, just for fun. The comments exploded: 【What the hell! He hasn’t even kissed Bea yet! How dare this nobody get his first kiss!】 【Does this girl have no shame?】 If you’re going to use me as a prop, I might as well get paid for it, right? You play with my feelings, I’ll play with your body. Seems fair to me. Tristan’s face was flushed crimson. With rage. Ignoring his look of utter disbelief, I chirped, “Well, boyfriend, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shoved me away, his face contorted in disgust. “Haven, you’re way too easy. Let’s just forget about this—” He didn’t get to finish. A girl in a short skirt was walking toward us from a distance. Tristan’s words died in his throat. The comments cheered: 【Bea’s finally here!】 【He lost sleep all night just because Bea was seen walking with a freshman. He spent hours just staring at her photo, poor baby!】 【My babies need to get together right now!】 Tristan’s eyes were locked on the approaching girl, but his words were directed at me. “My dear girlfriend,” he said through gritted teeth, “let me walk you home.” I scratched my head. “Didn’t you just say we should forget about it?” Tristan hissed, “You. Heard. Wrong.” “Oh, okay,” I said casually, grabbing his long-fingered hand. “Why go home? Let’s go to a hotel.” He was clearly taken aback. “A hotel? What for?” I leaned against his chest, taking the opportunity to give a firm pec a squeeze and trace the outline of his six-pack. “Oh, stop it, darling,” I purred. “What do you think?” Tristan went completely still. Seeing him hesitate, I raised my voice. “You’re not just playing me, are you? Are you using me to make someone else angry? You don’t actually want to be my boyfriend at all!” He frantically clamped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up!” “Fine! Fine! We’ll go!” 【Aaaah, what is this random girl doing! Who gave her permission to date him!】 【Bea looks like she’s about to cry!】 【This is disgusting! She’s nothing but a homewrecker!】 【To be fair, I’m grossed out too, but he did say he was single…】 【Homewreckers should die!】 Heh. I’m not going to die. I’m going to get a room. I immediately hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of the nearest hotel. Soon enough, we were standing in front of a king-sized bed in a “romance suite.” Tristan still looked dazed, as if he had no idea how he’d ended up here. I didn’t give him a chance to back out. I shoved him onto the bed. Click. The handcuffs were on. Tristan’s model-perfect face went blank for a second, then twisted into a mask of anger and regret. Definitely no sign of pleasure or excitement. But I didn’t care. I traced the line of his strong nose, then slid a finger into his mouth, playing with his tongue for a moment. The handcuffs rattled against the metal bed frame. As I pulled my finger away, trailing a silvery thread of saliva, tears welled in Tristan’s eyes. I wiped my hand on his chest, tilted my head, and smiled. “By the way, my name is Autumn. Not Haven.” “Don’t get it wrong later.” Yes. I knew. Even without the scrolling comments, I knew the truth. Tristan Chase didn’t like me. He’d never even noticed me. He’d just picked a familiar-looking name off an elective class sign-in sheet and hadn’t even read it correctly. But I had been watching him for a long time. Son of a movie star and a billionaire CEO. The guy who showed up to class in a Bentley. The guy whose shirt would ride up when he played basketball, revealing a perfectly sculpted six-pack. A prime specimen delivered right to my door. The comments telling me not to touch were just jealous haters. Skrrt~ And I happened to be under a lot of stress lately. So, I wasn’t angry at all. In fact, I was grateful. After all, a normal college girl like me would never cross paths with a rich, handsome guy like him. When I was a kid watching shows like Boys Over Flowers, I always imagined I could be the tenacious, ordinary girl who wins the heart of the rich bad boy. Growing up, I realized that doesn’t happen in real life. The only girls in the F4’s world are the beautiful, elite upperclassmen. From the first day of school, everyone knew Tristan and Beatrice “Bea” Wu were a thing. They claimed they just grew up together. Bea even helped other girls pass love letters to him. Tristan threw every single one in the trash. We weren’t blind. Before today, I was just another face in the background of their love story. But after today? Who knows. I lit an afterglow cigarette and glanced at the beautiful body sprawled on the bed. Tristan’s eyes met mine. He flinched, his fingers tightening on the sheets. “If you get back on this bed, I-I-I’ll kill you!” The comments, which had been silent all night, finally reappeared, flooding my vision. 【?】 【??????】 【My heart, once full of hope, is now dead. He’s no longer pure.】 【He must be really furious to sacrifice his own body just to make Bea jealous!】 【He’s just practicing on this random girl so he can be better for Bea later!】 【Does he look like he got any practice? He looks like he’s been completely drained…】 I looked with satisfaction at the marks covering his body. “Tough talk,” I purred. “But you seemed to enjoy it.” Tristan bit his lip, humiliated. “No, I didn’t!” “Stay away from me!” “Don’t worry,” I soothed, “I have to meet my advisor soon. No time for another round.” I was already dressed. As I reached the door, Tristan’s voice, laced with frustration, called out. “You’re just leaving? Aren’t you forgetting something?” I walked back to the bed and leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips. “There, there. No pouting. I have important things to do.” Tristan’s eyes went wide. He started trembling with rage, which, I had to admit, was quite adorable. “I meant the handcuffs!” he roared. “Oh, right,” I said, as if just remembering. I pulled the key from my pocket and tossed it to the foot of the bed. A little hard to reach. But not impossible. Worst case, he could always make a phone call. And with that, I left without a backward glance. … In the days that followed, I didn’t contact Tristan. I heard he took two days off. When he reappeared, he was wearing a turtleneck in the middle of summer. When a girl accidentally bumped into him on the path, he leaped a foot in the air like a startled deer. We met again in gym class. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The battle was intense. Tristan was playing tennis. I was practicing Tai Chi. When I finished my routine, I went to admire his form for a bit. The strong lines of his arm muscles, the power in his legs, and the way his shirt would lift with each swing, revealing the abs that haunted my dreams. He was too focused to notice me. His opponent was another rich kid. After Tristan missed several shots in a row, the guy teased him. “What happened, man? You were on fire a minute ago. Suddenly choking?” “Your girl Bea isn’t even here. Wait, no, she is here. You should be playing even harder.” “Or did you see someone who scares you?” Tristan told him to shut up. Just then, Bea appeared, holding a water bottle. “Tristan, I brought you some water. I added lemon and amino acids.” Tristan didn’t reach for it. Bea’s expression turned awkward. I picked up my own water bottle and walked over. Tristan didn’t reach for mine either. His face clearly said: Who the hell do you think you are, offering me water? I asked sweetly, “Boyfriend, do you need me to feed it to you?” His expression froze. He snatched the bottle from my hand. Bea’s eyes instantly turned red. “But… you only ever drink the water I bring you…” The comments arrived right on cue: 【My poor Bea. My heart hurts for her.】 【He’s just being petty again. He was so happy the second he saw her.】 【The more smug this random girl is now, the bigger a clown she’ll look when the truth comes out!】 【Am I crazy, or does he look less like he’s trying to make her jealous and more like… he’s terrified?】 After my good deed for the day, I turned and left. My advisor had asked me to attend a dinner tonight. I had no time for these comments, and I left Tristan and Bea far behind me. The private room was full of old men I didn’t know. After several glasses of wine, my advisor smiled benevolently. “Autumn, that paper of yours is quite good. Old Mr. Clark’s son is working in the same field, and he’s in need of a first-author publication…” I didn’t say anything. My advisor’s face darkened. “Do you want to graduate or not?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. This wasn’t the first time he’d made a request like this. The crushing pressure of my dead-end days, with no release in sight. It felt like being held underwater, my throat constricted. Someone else, pretending to be a peacemaker, said, “Autumn, hurry up and pour a glass for your professor! Apologize!” I was already unsteady on my feet, but a glass was shoved into my hand anyway. Just then, the door to the room was kicked open. Tristan Chase appeared in the doorway like a hero descending from the heavens. … The night air cleared my head a little. Standing on the curb, I casually stopped the audio recording on my phone. “Thank you,” I said to Tristan. He raised an eyebrow, looking a little smug. “Don’t get any ideas. I was just returning your water bottle.” He muttered under his breath, “Who makes someone go all the way to a place like this just to return a stupid water bottle…” Yes, I had sent him the address of the dinner. I knew he had a hero complex. “Still, thank you,” I said gratefully. “Let me buy you dinner.” “Not necessary.” “Then… let me get you a room?” Tristan’s face froze. His lips moved. I think he mouthed the word “pervert.” He was about to leave, but as he took the first step, I leaned over a trash can and threw up. Afterward, I closed my eyes and passed out. In the end, Tristan resignedly dragged me to a hotel. In my semi-conscious state, I clung to his abs, murmuring “thank you” over and over again. He blushed. This time, from shyness. The comments were a unified chorus, calling me shameless for taking advantage of the situation. There were also a few well-rounded individuals who shipped everything. … The next morning, I woke up to see Tristan still asleep in the adjacent bed. In the soft morning light, I took a moment to appreciate his beauty. Before I left, I couldn’t resist leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Tristan didn’t open his eyes, but his eyelashes fluttered rapidly, like the wings of a broken butterfly. For the next few days, we went back to having no contact. Until one morning, he was waiting for me outside my dorm. He demanded to know why I hadn’t been in touch. “Autumn, don’t tell me you forgot we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” I answered honestly. “I don’t have your number.” We hadn’t even added each other on any social media. Tristan was speechless. Then he took my phone, added himself as a contact, and handed it back. The contact name was already saved: 【Boyfriend】. I felt a little dazed. The comments appeared, right on schedule: 【Don’t flatter yourself, prop girl. He only did this because he saw Bea going to class with that freshman today.】 【He’s going to parade her around to get back at Bea!】 【The second Bea apologizes, he’ll drop this girl like a hot potato!】 【And to make Bea happy, he’ll probably even give her the girl’s PhD spot.】 That last part was a bit too absurd. I didn’t buy it. Sure enough, Tristan asked me to go to class with him. I glanced at my own schedule and shook my head. “I have my own class.” He looked annoyed but left anyway. At noon, he texted me, asking me to lunch. I went. A Michelin-star restaurant. That evening, he invited me to a barbecue with his friends. I went. In a Bugatti Veyron. We watched fireworks on a private beach at a five-star hotel. Life was too good. Tristan introduced me to a world I’d never known. One night, drunk and happy, I found myself telling him everything. From the time I blew up a septic tank at age eight to leaving home for college at eighteen. Tristan watched me, his eyes never leaving my face. He told me he wanted to spend his upcoming birthday with me. We pinky-promised. Then, one day, he was looking at me, his head tilted. “You seem… happier now,” he said. In that moment, I could hear my own heart beating. I had never cared about the comments before. But now, they were starting to get on my nerves. Especially when they announced that today was the day Tristan and Bea would finally get together. … I was walking through a small grove of trees, wearing flip-flops and carrying four takeout boxes for my roommates. The sound of a girl crying made me look over. A tall boy and a petite girl were standing face-to-face. Bea was sobbing uncontrollably. “Tristan, I-I-I was wrong,” she stammered. “Please don’t punish me like this anymore. I’ll never talk to another guy again… Please, Tristan, forgive me.” I saw the man who was just sharing his gaming victories with me yesterday now looking at the girl before him with a mix of helplessness and heartache. 【Angsty hero vs. damsel in distress, they’re so perfect for each other, I’m literally deceased!】 【Finally, I don’t have to look at that random girl’s plain face anymore! Hooray!】 As the comments cheered, Bea threw herself into Tristan’s arms. “Tristan, let’s be together…” I sighed. I had a thesis to finish; no time for melodrama. I turned to leave. But in that instant, as if sensing something, Tristan looked up. Our eyes met. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. The next second, the delicate, pretty girl stood on her toes. A kiss landed on his chin. Tristan froze. It was a beautiful picture. And there I was, in my faded t-shirt and flip-flops, shuffling further and further away. I wasn’t interested in Tristan’s answer. It was obvious. The comments erupted in celebration: 【The random girl is finally offline!】 【Look at her, scurrying away like a stray dog with its tail between its legs.】 【Don’t insult dogs, they’re cute. You can’t compare them to her!】 【I don’t know… I suddenly feel a little bad for her…】 No. Don’t feel bad for me. I have an education, a loving mother, and a bright future. Back in my dorm, I got a message from Tristan. 【?】 【You just left?】 【Don’t you have anything to say?】 I didn’t reply. The screen showed that he was typing for a long time. Finally, a new message came through: 【I’m sorry for what happened before. Is there anything you want as compensation?】 I typed back: 【I hate it when people ask me so many questions.】 Then, I blocked him.

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I was born with a plain face. So, I bought a handsome convict-slave to be my husband. But he found me coarse and would rather work as a laborer than be my husband. When his conviction was overturned, he didn’t hesitate to climb into the carriage back to the capital. Before leaving, he even offered me a piece of advice: “Jane, a butcher is the most suitable match for someone of your station.” I figured a scholar must know what he’s talking about. So, I accepted a side of pork as a betrothal gift from the butcher next door. But on my wedding night, a different man lifted my veil. His face was a mask of fury as he demanded, “Who told you to marry him?” 1 The day I learned his name was Napier Crawley, I was sitting by the well, pondering how to convince him to finally be mine. It had been two years since I’d bought him, after all. Two years of wheedling and coaxing, using every trick in the book, hoping he’d finally give in and let me provide for him. But Napier was unmoved. Every time I brought it up, his answer was the same: “We are not a suitable match.” For two years, I’d wondered what he meant by “not suitable.” But he would never explain. He couldn’t be bothered to speak to me. Just as I was at my wit’s end, the clattering of carriage wheels brought the answer to my doorstep. The next moment, Princess Annabelle pushed open my rickety old gate, a perfumed handkerchief pressed to her nose. When she saw the once-cool and aloof Grand Tutor, a man whose hands had never touched a speck of dirt, pushing a heavy stone mill, her beautiful eyes welled with tears. Napier had always lectured me about how a proper young woman should conduct herself with modesty and shame. But now, as Princess Annabelle threw herself into his arms, he seemed to forget all his own lessons. He just stood there, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air. After a moment, he finally shook off his shock and looked down at the woman in his embrace. “Annabelle?” he asked, his voice uncertain. Princess Annabelle nodded, tears of joy streaming down her face. “It’s me, Napier. I’ve come to take you home.” They stared at each other, lost in their own world, as if the donkey and I didn’t exist. To assert my own presence, I stepped forward and tugged on the princess’s silky sleeve. “Excuse me, miss,” I said helpfully, “but you’re hugging the wrong man. This is my husband.” Only then did Princess Annabelle seem to notice me. “Husband?” she repeated, her voice laced with doubt. When I nodded, she turned to Napier, her face a mask of shock. “Napier,” she stammered, “you’re… married?” And that’s how I learned his name was Napier. For two years, he had refused to tell me what it was. Naturally, Napier denied it. “No. She is… merely my employer.” I felt a twinge of guilt at his denial. He was right; he had never once agreed to be my husband. When my mother had first threatened him—either be my husband or be our laborer—he had walked out the door without a second thought, his body still weak from illness, and started pushing that stone mill. Over the past two years, I’d tried everything—threats, bribes, you name it. But he simply would not marry me. Now, hearing Napier’s denial, Princess Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. She looked me up and down with disdain. “You coarse wench,” she said slowly, “how dare you covet the Grand Tutor of the court?” Her accusation stung. When I bought Napier, he was just an exiled convict. I had no idea he was a Grand Tutor. Besides, officials exiled to our remote corner of the world almost never returned to the capital. Who could have guessed Napier would be the first? Napier paid no mind to her insults. He simply looked at me and said, “Miss Jane, I’m afraid I won’t be able to work today.” 2 Insults or not, when dinner time came, the noble Princess Annabelle found herself sitting at the same table as this “coarse country wench.” My furniture was small and rough, and the princess complained endlessly. “Napier, this chair is so uncomfortable. Let’s just go back to the inn in town.” Napier smiled. I’d never seen him, a man as cold as ice, actually smile before. But there was a hint of sorrow in it. “I have sat in chairs like this for two years,” he said quietly. The disdain on Annabelle’s face was immediately replaced by a wave of heartbreak. She was so beautiful that even her scorn was endearing. Trying to lighten the mood, I chimed in. “And I’ve sat in chairs like this for eighteen years!” Napier never deigned to speak to me, and this time was no different. But Princess Annabelle shot me a mocking smirk. “And what if you sat in them for twenty? A lowly creature like you was born to sit in crude chairs.” I lowered my head in embarrassment, but under the table, I saw my mother’s fist clench and unclench. She had never liked Napier because he refused to marry me, but tonight, she remained silent. After a moment, Napier spoke, his voice formal. “You bought me when I was at my lowest. For these past years, I have worked from sunrise to sunset in your home. I believe my labor has repaid your kindness. We are even. We owe each other nothing.” With that, he stood and gave my mother a slight bow. Then he turned to leave with Princess Annabelle. In a panic, I moved to stop him, but my mother grabbed my arm. We listened as the carriage wheels clattered away into the distance. Only then did she sigh. “My daughter, give it up. I told you long ago, he is not one of us.” She had said the same thing the day I bought him. But I hadn’t listened. I had inherited my mother’s weakness for a handsome face. When the soldiers brought the convicts to town for sale, my eyes had locked on the thin, frail form of Napier in the crowd. His eyes were beautiful. One fleeting glance from him was enough to make my face burn. The day I brought him home, he collapsed from illness. The town doctor said he was barely clinging to life. As I paid the doctor, my mother sighed and cursed me for being a fool, for buying a sickly money pit who was clearly not our kind. I never imagined he was a noble Grand Tutor. I never imagined he would despise the idea of being my husband so much. And I certainly never imagined that he would one day leave this desolate place. And so, just like that, Napier was gone. That night, I lay in bed, staring at the bright moon, unable to sleep. Restless, I felt a piece of paper under my pillow. It was Napier’s indenture contract, the characters on it like little worms. I had to return it to him. So, before the sun was up the next morning, I clutched the contract and headed out the door. 3 The inn where Napier was staying was a long walk away. I didn’t dare rest for a moment on the road. I managed to arrive just before the roosters began to crow. The inn was strictly managed; a commoner like me couldn’t just walk in. I had to ask the old man at the gate to announce me. I waited outside, nearly dozing off, before Napier finally emerged with Princess Annabelle, moving at a leisurely pace. His brow furrowed when he saw me. “What are you doing here again?” Princess Annabelle demanded. I glanced at Napier, feeling awkward and out of place. He had changed into fine clothes that matched the princess’s, a world away from the man who pushed a mill in my yard. Standing before him, I suddenly found it hard to breathe. It was in that moment that I finally understood what he meant by “suitable.” He and Princess Annabelle looked right together, far more so than he and I ever could. After a long pause, I finally managed to stammer, “I… I came to see when you were leaving.” Princess Annabelle rolled her eyes. “When we leave is none of your business, you little opportunist.” I didn’t know when I had become an opportunist. Napier cut her off. “We are leaving shortly,” he said, his tone flat. Hearing that, a wave of disappointment washed over me. Napier noticed. He spoke one last time, his voice firm with rejection. “I told you a long time ago that I would not be your husband. Go home. Do not follow me again.” I had heard those words from him countless times before, but they had never sounded so harsh. Heartbroken, I felt the indenture contract in my sleeve. As Napier was about to board the carriage, I called out, “Wait. Just a moment.” He looked at me, puzzled, while Annabelle was clearly impatient. “You damn peasant, what is it now?” I held out the contract. “This is yours. You left it behind.” Annabelle snatched it first, handing it to a skeptical Napier. When he saw what it was, the tight line of his brow relaxed. Then, as I watched, he tore it into pieces. “I am a free man now. This contract is useless to me.” I stared blankly at the fluttering scraps of paper. Napier’s tone softened slightly. “Thank you for making the trip. You should head back. We must be on our way.” It was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such gentleness. As he turned to leave, I called out again. “Wait.” “What is it now?” I wrung my hands. “It cost me five taels of silver to buy you.” He paused, then turned to Annabelle, his voice back to its usual cool tone. “Annabelle, give her five taels of gold.” Annabelle pulled a gold ingot from her purse with a look of disgust and tossed it on the ground in front of me. As I bent to pick it up, the carriage rolled past. Napier lifted the curtain and spoke to me one last time. “Jane, with your station in life, a butcher would be the most suitable match. Do not aspire to anything else.” It was the first time he had ever used my name. As soon as he finished, Annabelle’s mocking laughter drifted from the carriage. “Did you hear that, you peasant? Stop dreaming of climbing the social ladder. It’s not for people like you.” She was wrong about me again. I didn’t want Napier as a husband because I wanted to climb some social ladder. When I bought him, he was just a disgraced criminal. I liked him because he was handsome. But what good was a handsome face? A man as lofty as him would never deign to look me in the eye. The carriage clattered into the distance. I stood there for a long time, until the carriage was completely out of sight, before I finally started the long, aching walk home. As I turned into my alley, I saw my mother waiting for me at the door. I was sure she was going to scold me for leaving without telling her, without grinding the day’s tofu. But she didn’t say a word. She just sighed. “There’s food for you on the stove.” Her quiet kindness made me feel even more guilty. My mother’s most frequent lecture was, “My dear Jane, don’t be like your mother. When you choose a man, never choose for his looks. Find one who is strong, who can bear a burden.” She said this not because my handsome father had wronged her, but because not long after I was born, my handsome, but frail, father had passed away. The day I’d gone to buy Napier, she had given me five taels of silver with strict instructions. “Two taels for the man, two for a donkey, and one for the beans. And make sure the man is sturdy. Don’t just look at his face.” I had betrayed her trust. I’d spent all five taels on the pale, weak Napier. But it wasn’t a total loss. I felt the hard lump of gold in my sleeve. Five silver taels for five gold ones wasn’t a bad trade. 4 After Napier left, the task of grinding tofu fell to me. The donkey, which I had bought specifically for Napier, finally got a rest. I was strong enough to push the mill for hours on end by myself; I didn’t need an animal. Before Napier, I had always done it myself. After he arrived, the mill turned at a snail’s pace. I had offered to do the work myself, but he had insisted on doing it to avoid being my husband. He thought too poorly of me. I wanted to marry him, yes. But I wasn’t the kind of opportunist Annabelle thought I was. I would try to persuade him, but I would never force him. I couldn’t bear to see his beautiful hands get calloused and raw, so I used my own savings to buy the donkey. Now, the donkey was no longer needed. My mother thought I would be heartbroken after Napier left. But I wasn’t. I worked just as hard as I had before he came, even harder. I used to make two blocks of tofu a morning; now I could make three and a half. My mother watched me pushing the mill day after day, her heart aching for me. At dinner, she tried to comfort me. “My dear, don’t worry. Mother will find you an even handsomer man, much better looking than that bean sprout.” I took a bite of pickled vegetables. “Mother,” I said, “I don’t want a handsome man anymore.” Her hand, holding her chopsticks, froze. “Then what kind of man do you want? Whatever you want, Mother will find him for you.” I tilted my head, thinking for a moment. “Find me a butcher,” I said. “That way, we’ll have meat to eat every day.” I lied to my mother. I didn’t want to marry a butcher for the meat. I had asked the children at the town school what a Grand Tutor was. They told me it was a very, very high-ranking official, one who had to be incredibly well-read. So Napier was a man of great learning. In that case, his words must be true. Marrying a butcher would be the most suitable path for me. My mother worked fast. Two days later, she brought the village matchmaker, Mrs. Wong, to our house. Mrs. Wong’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Jane, there’s a butcher in the next village. Are you interested?” I nodded without a second thought. The next afternoon, Mrs. Wong brought the butcher to our house. It was the first time I had spent time with a man other than Napier, and I felt incredibly awkward. But when I saw him, I realized he was someone I already knew. 5 After Napier came to our home, we started selling our tofu at the town market. He despised hawking our wares door-to-door, preferring to walk the extra miles to town rather than push a cart through the neighboring villages, shouting. I met Cole at the market. He sold pork at the stall opposite ours. Napier was aloof, and he sold tofu with the same aloofness. He hated the old women who picked through his wares and despised the matrons who haggled over the price. As a result, we often had tofu left over at the end of the day. One day, it rained. We had a lot of tofu left, and we were struggling to move it under the eaves. Some of it was getting soaked. That’s when Cole came to our rescue. He was a butcher, and years of work had given him a powerful build. In a few swift movements, he had moved our baskets and everything else to shelter. It was the first time I truly understood the value of my mother’s advice. A strong body really was a good thing. Now, seeing him again, Cole was even more nervous than I was. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. When I offered him water, he said it was the best water he’d ever tasted. When I invited him to sit on the edge of the heated brick bed, he said it was the most comfortable seat he’d ever sat on. His earnest, bumbling manner made me laugh. Seeing me laugh, he scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m not very good with words. I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself.” “No, no,” I quickly reassured him. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” … We fell into a companionable silence. After a moment, Cole suddenly remembered he had brought something for me. He pulled a small packet of malt candy from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “It’s our first meeting. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just bought some candy. I see the other girls in town eating it.” The candy was wrapped neatly in oil paper. It was a thoughtful gesture. I unwrapped a piece and popped it in my mouth. Seeing me eat his candy, Cole broke into a wide, happy grin. He was so simple and honest. I couldn’t deceive him. So I told him the truth. “I was married before,” I said. “You saw him in town, the one who sold tofu with me. He was a high-ranking official from the capital who was convicted of a crime. I bought him.” “But he found me coarse and didn’t want to live with me. His case was overturned a few days ago, and he has returned to the capital.” Most men would have been put off by such a story. But Cole just kept smiling his simple, honest smile. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s good that he’s gone.” I was surprised. “You don’t mind?” Cole’s smile was shy. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m rough.” Just as we were getting along well, Mrs. Wong knocked on the window. “Cole, it’s time to go.” Cole stood up, looking at me, wanting to say more. But with Mrs. Wong hurrying him, he finally turned to leave. Just as he was about to step out the door, I called out to him. “Cole, this candy is delicious. Bring some more next time you come.” The disappointment in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a bright light. “Okay, okay,” he nodded eagerly. He must have been overjoyed, because he tripped on the threshold on his way out. Watching his earnest, bumbling figure look back at me three times as he left, I couldn’t help but laugh.

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I am a Tasker. The System promised me that if I could win the heart of my target, I could bring my beloved back from the dead. And so, I poured every ounce of my soul into melting the cold heart of the villain, Damian Koepp. I didn’t care that he killed me ninety-nine times. On my one-hundredth attempt, Damian, in a bid to amuse his cherished Sarah, threw me to a sadist. “You can’t die anyway,” he’d said with a smirk. “Make Sarah laugh, and I might just do you the honor of marrying you.” What he didn’t know was that the System had a hidden rule. After one hundred attempts, successful or not, my love would be resurrected. And I would vanish from his world, without a trace. … 1 [Host has died 99 times. Hidden reward protocol initiated. Upon 100th death at the hands of the target, reward will be automatically dispatched: Resurrection of Jean White.] When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a cold floor, the large pools of my own blood already dried and blackened. I came to this world for one reason: to resurrect my love, Jean White, by completing the task set before me—winning the heart of Damian Koepp. I was an orphan. No one had ever loved me until Jean pulled me from the darkness. So when the System told me that conquering Damian’s heart was the key to bringing Jean back, I agreed without a moment’s hesitation. I gave Damian everything. I laid my heart bare for him, and even when he tortured me, I showed him nothing but unwavering devotion. Damian knew I was a Tasker. He knew I would be reborn after every death, so he used that knowledge to inflict every cruelty imaginable, showing me not a shred of mercy. For my ninety-ninth life, he dragged me to a fashion show for his beloved Sarah Vance. He gazed at her on the runway with a look of profound affection, all while humiliating me as if I were a dog at his feet. I simply sat there, silent and still, letting his words wash over me, refusing to leave his side. Halfway through the show, the ceiling suddenly gave way. A shower of glass rained down upon us. Without a thought, I threw myself on top of Damian, letting the shards pierce my back. But he shoved me off violently, scrambling to the side of Sarah, who was completely unharmed. The entire venue emptied out, but no one spared me a second glance. A piece of glass was lodged deep in my heart. I welcomed my ninety-ninth death. It was alright. After this rebirth, I only had to die one more time. Then, I could finally have Jean back. I had barely managed to pull myself to my feet when Damian’s call came through. “Are you awake yet?” he barked. “Sarah and I are at City Central Hospital. Make some broth and bring it over. Now.” His voice dripped with impatience, as if every word spoken to me was a chore. The fact that I had just died for him didn’t move him in the slightest. I struggled to my feet and drove home. Without even changing out of my filthy, blood-stained clothes, I started making the soup. Damian was always like this, demanding that any food I brought him be made by my own hands. If he found even the slightest flaw, he would throw the entire container, soup and all, in my face. During my sixty-seventh life, he’d scalded me so badly that a large scar marred my face. He didn’t care. In fact, he led the jeering. “What does it matter?” he’d sneered. “The next time you die, it’ll all reset anyway.” Carrying the thermos, I hurried to the hospital. I found Damian tenderly caring for Sarah as she lay in her bed. The moment he saw me, his brow furrowed in disgust. “You didn’t even change? What if you bring germs in here?” Sarah gently patted his hand, then offered me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Nina. Damian is just so worried about me.” She was pretending to defend me, but the mockery and contempt in her eyes were crystal clear. Damian snatched the thermos from me. He opened it, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and carefully fed it to Sarah. She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently. Damian panicked, patting her back frantically. After a few minutes, Sarah finally calmed down, her eyes misty as she glanced at the thermos. “I’m allergic to lemon.” I stood frozen, staring at her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her private physician. But if she decided, in this very moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do. Damian spun around, his face contorted in rage. He flung the scalding soup directly at my face. “Are you trying to kill her? What, you think if you get rid of Sarah, you can take her place?” The searing heat felt like it was peeling my skin off. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and slowly explained, “I’m sorry.” It didn’t matter what I said. Damian would never believe me. It was better this way. A quick death at his hands, and I could finally go home. Sarah watched my pathetic state with a triumphant smirk before melting back into a damsel in distress, tugging on Damian’s sleeve. “That’s enough, Damian. Nina didn’t mean it.” Damian shot me a cold, hard look. “Clean it up.” I knelt, my hands scraping against the broken glass on the floor, gathering the shards of the shattered thermos as if I couldn’t feel the pain. For some reason, Damian’s mood soured even further. He roughly yanked me to my feet. “Can’t you use a dustpan? Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?” He shoved me aside and called for a janitor. Seeing Damian standing next to me, Sarah’s brow tightened for a moment before she quickly changed the subject. “Oh, by the way, Damian, you haven’t told Nina about the dress for the exhibition, have you?” Damian glanced at me, then spoke slowly. “Sarah needs a custom hand-embroidered gown for next month’s gala. You’ll have it done in the next few days.” My embroidery skills were taught by a master artisan, refined and exquisite. But this kind of intricate work was incredibly time-consuming and strained the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I had worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand comment he’d made. The exhaustion and eye strain had been so severe that I’d died in my sleep. When I was reborn, my vision had never fully recovered. The doctor had warned me to avoid such detailed work. Damian knew this. But he didn’t care. I looked at him, my gaze soft, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, absolute love. “Of course. I’ll do it.” Damian froze, seemingly caught off guard by the look in my eyes. He turned his head away awkwardly. “After you finish Sarah’s gown, I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.” “It’s okay, Damian,” I said softly. “I’d do anything for you. You don’t need to feel guilty.” Damian stared into my genuine eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—perhaps emotion—stirred in his cold, merciless gaze. I, however, had no time to worry about whether he’d actually take me to a doctor. Once I left this world, none of it would matter. My eyes would be the least of my concerns. Damian’s lips parted as if to say more, but from the bed, Sarah let out a pained whimper, clutching her head. “Damian…” He instantly turned his full attention to her, completely forgetting I was even in the room. I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my apartment and immediately began working on Sarah’s gown. If I was lucky, I’d die from overexertion, just like last time. I couldn’t wait to see Jean. I had been away from him for far, far too long. 2 The embroidery demanded my complete focus; not a single stitch could be out of place. The design for Sarah’s gown was immensely complex, and I found myself working day and night, pushing myself to the brink. My eyes were a web of red veins from the strain, and a dull ache throbbed in my head. Suddenly, my vision blurred. The world swam before me, and I collapsed, completely missing the phone screen as it lit up with Damian’s name. In the depths of my unconsciousness, I felt a large hand gently touch my forehead. I thought I had died, that I had finally returned to my own world. My eyes flew open, and I cried out Jean’s name in a rush of joy. “Jean!” But the eyes I met were not his. They were Damian’s, narrowed with suspicion and a dangerous glint. “Jean,” he repeated, his voice low. “Who is Jean?” His grip on my wrist tightened, his voice dropping an octave. “Who. Is. Jean?” My mind raced. I had to think of something. “He’s just… a minor celebrity I used to have a crush on,” I lied, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue. “I was just dreaming about him.” It was a pathetic excuse, but after a few seconds of tense silence, Damian seemed to accept it. After all, my love for him was absolute. I had willingly died for him ninety-nine times. How could I possibly have someone else hidden in my heart? “You certainly have time for fantasies,” he said, releasing my hand. His expression turned cold again. Just then, the sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. Sarah. Her face stiffened when she saw Damian and me together. “Nina, Damian told me you fainted while working on my dress. I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She lowered her eyes in a show of guilt, but Damian immediately jumped to her defense. “This has nothing to do with you,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as he glanced at me. “Nina agreed to do it. She has to see it through.” He let out a cruel laugh. “After all, a worthless life like hers is meant to serve you. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it without a second thought.” His words struck me, but I felt nothing. On the outside, however, I had to feign a look of profound, repressed heartbreak. “Yes, Damian,” I whispered. “Whatever you ask, I will do. I came into this world for you.” Damian’s pupils constricted. He seemed flustered, unsettled. He grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her from the room, tossing a final command over his shoulder. “Just get the dress done. You don’t have to kill yourself over it.” That was new. Damian had never cared about my life before. I shook my head, clearing the thought. I had to die, and soon. And I had a feeling Sarah would be the one to give me the opportunity. She presented a flawless, angelic facade to the world, but beneath it, she was vicious and selfish. She claimed she and Damian were just like siblings, but she ruthlessly tormented anyone who got close to him. As I pushed myself up, I realized I wasn’t in my apartment. I was on Damian’s private yacht. I stepped out of the cabin for a walk and saw Damian and his friends hosting a party on the deck. I made my way to the bow, staring at the moon and letting the ache of longing for Jean wash over me. “There you are, Nina.” Sarah approached me, a wine glass in her hand and a sweet smile on her face. But her eyes were filled with malice. “It seems you’re getting better at this. Damian’s been so gentle with you lately,” she purred. “But it’s foolish to think you can steal him from me. Do you really believe he could ever love you? All I have to do is crook my little finger, and he’ll discard you without a second thought.” She slowly backed towards the railing, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Nina,” she whispered, “what do you think he would do if he knew you pushed me into the sea out of jealousy? Would he… tear you to pieces?” Before I could even react, Sarah let out a piercing scream and threw herself over the railing, plummeting into the dark water below. Damian was there in an instant. He dove into the sea without hesitation, pulling a sputtering Sarah from the waves. Crew members lowered a lifeboat, and soon both of them were back on deck. Sarah slowly came to, her face streaked with tears as she clutched Damian’s sleeve. “Damian, don’t blame Nina,” she sobbed. “She just… she just loves you so much… I can understand. It’s all my fault.” Her words hung in the air, and every eye on the deck turned to me. “I always thought Nina was just a pathetic sycophant, but it turns out she’s a vicious one too.” “How dare she push Sarah overboard? Everyone knows Sarah is the apple of Damian’s eye.” “Who the hell does Nina think she is?” The whispers turned to accusations. Damian’s gaze, dark and murderous, settled on me. It was a look I knew well. It was the look he always had right before he killed me. He gave a cold, sharp order. His men seized me and dragged me towards a three-meter-high glass tank on the deck. I can’t swim. I thrashed wildly as they threw me in. Damian stared at me as if I were already dead. “Who gave you the nerve to touch Sarah? It seems I’ve been too lenient with you lately.” The filthy water filled my nose and mouth. My survival instinct kicked in, and I fought my way toward the surface, but Damian ordered his men to keep adding more water. The people around the tank erupted in laughter, the sound a distorted roar in my ears. Then, I remembered. This was it. This was what I wanted. If I die, I can see Jean again. I stopped struggling. My body went limp and sank to the bottom of the tank. Seeing this, Damian must have thought I was putting on an act. “Nina, stop pretending! You think this will make me let you go?” I didn’t move. “Nina? Nina!” I remained motionless in the water. A note of panic entered his voice. “NINA! Drain the water! Drain it now!” 3 I dreamed a long, beautiful dream. A dream where the car crash never happened. Jean and I were married, happy. We had a child. A family of three, living through the seasons, together. I drifted back to consciousness, and the first thing I saw was Damian’s face, his eyes filled with a worry he was desperately trying to conceal. My heart sank with disappointment. So, I’m not dead yet. “What a clever little scheme, Nina,” Damian’s voice was laced with cold fury. “Push Sarah into the sea, then pretend to drown yourself. Were you trying to make me feel sorry for you?” “No, Damian,” I whispered, my voice weak. “I just… didn’t know what else to do.” My listless, broken state was, in his eyes, the ultimate proof of my love—a love so profound it left me unable to even defend myself. “Sarah is willing to forgive you,” he said, his tone shifting. “But on one condition. Her research team is conducting an experiment. They need someone to spend a day alone in a room with a… psychopath. Don’t worry, the security measures are top-notch. You’ll be perfectly safe.” Seeing my silence, he must have thought I was refusing. His brow furrowed with annoyance. “You hurt Sarah—” “I’ll do it, Damian,” I cut in, my voice soft. “For you, I’ll do anything.” From the first moment I met him, this was the mask I wore: a woman of infinite, gentle devotion, whose world revolved solely around him. Damian had never truly believed it, which was why he tested me, hurt me, again and again. And I just kept coming back, my only goal to prove my love. Unexpectedly, Damian reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I promise you,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “After this is over, I’ll marry you.” I lowered my head and nodded. “Okay.” I already knew how I was going to die. And this time, no one would be able to stop me. I was brought to the room that housed the madman. Outside, a team of monitors watched everything. I turned and gave Damian a small, reassuring smile before stepping inside without a shred of hesitation. For some reason, a sharp, painful knot twisted in Damian’s chest. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to stop me. But then he looked at Sarah’s hopeful eyes, and he steeled his heart. It’s fine, he told himself. It’ll be over soon. I’ll marry her. I’ll make it all up to her. After all this time, Damian had finally started to realize that a life with me might actually be… good. Inside the house, to avoid raising suspicion, I spent the first few hours deftly evading the psychopath. I led him on a chase, playing the part of the terrified victim. Finally, he cornered me in a small room. He raised an axe. I didn’t dodge. I didn’t even flinch. I simply smiled and walked toward the blade. Blood pooled on the floor.

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The day Ivy League letters arrived, David posted a screenshot of his perfect scores—identical to mine—with the caption: “I won the game, and I won you.” Our class chat erupted. “Only the top two get this kind of epic romance?” “Most romantic confession ever.” David stayed silent, spamming Venmo cash drops—until scholarship student Leah refunded hers. “Grandpa taught me self-respect matters more than handouts.” David finally replied: “Fine. Dog-sit for us in Europe this summer—call it a paid gig.” I thought it was rich-kid pity. Then at the party: “Smooth move disguising payments as group drops so Leah wouldn’t feel singled out.” “Remember when David beat up that creep harassing Leah?” My hand froze on the door. So that’s why he missed my debutante ball. Not car trouble—he was brawling for another girl. David tossed cash on the bar, his voice cold. “Drop it. Vivian will throw another tantrum.” Someone muttered, “Leah’s sweeter anyway.” I walked straight to the racetrack and accepted Silas’s invitation. Fine, David. You want to play hero? I’ll set you free. 1 “Whoa, look who it is! The stunning Vivian finally graces us with her presence!” A group of guys nudged David, their eyes full of mischief. When he saw me, a genuine smile finally broke through his bored expression. “Viv, you’re on your period. No cold drinks.” He pressed a warm chai latte into my hands, the cup he’d been carefully shielding. I saw the long list of customizations on the label—extra cinnamon, oat milk, not too sweet—and a familiar ache tightened my throat. Eighteen years. It was long enough for him to memorize every little thing about me. But he’d forgotten the one thing I truly wanted: a love that wasn’t divided, a loyalty that wasn’t shared. I took a deep breath, the words “we’re over” on the tip of my tongue, but a series of gasps cut through the room. “Oh my god, is that Leah? I thought she’d show up in her faded old school uniform again.” “No way. She’s gorgeous. She could honestly give Vivian a run for her money.” Every guy in the room was staring, their eyes wide. Beside me, my best friend, Chloe, paled. “Viv… that dress. How could he give her that dress?” I placed a hand on hers, giving a slight shake of my head. “It’s fine. Let it go.” It wasn’t the first time David had given something of mine to Leah, after all. But he didn’t know this one was different. It was a matching set, a gift from his mother for my eighteenth birthday. She’d told us she couldn’t wait to see us wear them on our engagement day. I guess she never imagined David would be the one to give our future away. “Vivian, you wear your clothes once and then toss them. Think of it as charity,” David said, not even glancing at Leah as he meticulously peeled a grape for me. But the scent of those grapes, flown in from Napa, was enough to make my heart sour. Charity. He was always so charitable. He’d give away my clothes, my shoes, my bags—even a brand-new, unopened lingerie set—all without asking. Every time, he’d say he could just buy me more, that I shouldn’t be so petty. Just because I was the “princess” in his life, I was expected to surrender everything to Leah. David held the peeled grape to my lips, but I turned my head away. He raised an eyebrow, his cool eyes clouded with confusion. “Viv? What’s wrong?” I dropped my gaze, my voice as steady as I could make it. “Nothing. Let’s break up.” But the words were swallowed by the sudden blast of music from the karaoke machine. When I looked up, Leah was standing right in front of us. “Thank you,” she said to David. “What?” The music was deafening. Leah had no choice but to lean in close to his ear, the front of her dress dipping low to reveal a breathtaking view. My face went cold. I stood up, pulling Chloe with me to the control panel, and started scrolling aimlessly through the song list. 2 “Vivian, what is your problem? Who pissed you off this time? Don’t tell me it’s about the dress.” David leaned casually against the karaoke machine. He was talking to me, but his eyes were scanning the screen. A cold laugh escaped me. I found the “Happy Birthday” track and pinned it to the top of the queue. “Looking for this?” Eighteen years. It was also long enough for me to know exactly how his mind worked. David froze, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. He was used to me getting jealous and angry over Leah. This calm indifference was new. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, as if rewarding a child. “There’s my girl. Finally growing up.” I subtly wiped my forehead, erasing the warmth of his lips. He still didn’t get it. I hadn’t grown up. I was just learning not to care. David tapped the screen, and the blaring rap song that had been shaking the walls cut off abruptly. The cheerful melody of “Happy Birthday” filled the room. Leah’s head snapped towards him, her eyes wide with surprise. “It’s our resilient wildflower’s eighteenth birthday! Everybody, let’s wish her a happy birthday!” a friend of his announced. The room erupted. One of the guys even grabbed a fruit platter and knelt before her like a knight presenting a tribute. But her eyes were locked on David, drifting over the crowd to meet his gaze, silently mouthing the words, thank you. “It’s not an eighteenth birthday without presents!” someone shouted, and everyone started fumbling through their pockets. David’s gaze swept the room, finally landing on my wrist. “Viv, you’ve worn that bracelet for years. Why don’t you give it to her? It’s a perfect chance for an upgrade. My treat.” I stared at him, first in shock, then in utter disbelief. “David, are you serious?” That bracelet was the gift he’d given me when he first told me he loved me. No matter how many expensive, beautiful pieces my family had given me since, I had never taken it off. And now, he was telling me to give it away. “Of course I’m serious. It’s not even the latest design anymore. It doesn’t suit you.” He reached for my wrist, his tone casual, as if he were talking about a piece of lint. I went numb, letting him unclasp it and take it from me. Amid a chorus of cheers and whistles, David fastened the bracelet around Leah’s wrist. Just then, the lights went out. A waiter wheeled in a ten-tiered birthday cake, a towering confection of sugar and cream. No matter how hard I tried to be strong, my eyes burned. Even the cake was an exact replica of the one I’d had for my debutante ball. David really couldn’t bear to see her suffer the slightest disappointment. I couldn’t watch another second of this fairy tale. Prince Charming and his Cinderella could have the stage. I pushed the door open and walked out. Chloe, who could never stand to see me upset, called after me, her voice loud and clear. “Viv! Where are you going?” The next second, David dropped Leah’s hand and rushed out after me. Under the dim, yellow glow of the streetlights, he grabbed my hand, his voice laced with frustration. “Vivian, what is wrong with you tonight?” “Nothing. I’m just done.” I calmly pried his fingers from mine and kept walking. Behind me, I could hear the murmurs of our classmates. “What’s going on? Is Vivian actually jealous?” “Probably. I think I saw her tearing up back there.” Hearing this, the guys who had been fawning over Leah immediately jumped to her defense. “Jealous? What does she have to be jealous of? She’s a princess who has everything. Why would she be jealous of a scholarship kid?” “Exactly. And it’s not like David did anything wrong. He just gave Leah some of her hand-me-downs. She’s just being a drama queen, trying to ruin the mood because she’s not the center of attention.” I walked on, my steps heavy, the streetlight stretching my shadow long and thin behind me. No matter how much I wanted to hold on, it felt like David and I were destined to break. Before, whenever I got upset, he would have wrapped me in a tight embrace, never letting me walk a dark street alone. But this time, he just stood there, watching me go. 3 The sharp clack-clack of heels approached. Leah ran up to me, holding a slice of cake on a napkin. “Vivian, the first piece is for you.” She looked startled when she saw the tears on my face, but I could see the glint of triumph she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes. I walked past her without a word, a single syllable leaving my lips. “Get lost.” Before I could even brush past the hem of her dress, she crumpled to the ground as if struck by a gust of wind. “Leah!” David was there in an instant, rushing over to help her up. He noticed her dress had slipped, and without a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged off his own jacket and wrapped it around her, shielding her from view. “Vivian, what the hell are you doing? It’s just a few things you have in spades, things you can get with the snap of your fingers…” He was scolding me, but as his eyes lifted to meet mine, he stopped short. The coldness in my gaze seemed to jolt him. He saw the Vivian who had clung to him for eighteen years, and for the first time, he saw something missing from her eyes. It was as if he were no different from any other stranger on the street. “You’re right,” I said, my voice flat. “They’re just things I can get with a snap of my fingers.” With that, I climbed into the custom Tesla Roadster that had just pulled up and sped away, leaving him in the dust. … “My sweet girl, wasn’t tonight your graduation party? How are you back so early? And where’s David?” When I got home, my grandfather was waiting at the door, peering left and right, surprised not to see David’s familiar car. I linked my arm through his and walked inside in silence. He knew immediately something was wrong. “Did you and David have a fight?” I lowered my eyes, thinking for a long moment before forcing a smile. “Grandpa, I don’t want to be with David anymore. And… I don’t want to go to Harvard.” He stilled, his old, wrinkled hands gently rubbing my arm. He didn’t ask why. “Alright. Whatever you decide, Grandpa will have your back.” A wave of heat rushed to my eyes. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried for a long time. When I finally went to my room, I was just about to fall asleep when a text from David came through. “Don’t forget to submit your application. To Harvard. The dream we’ve been waiting for.” “Get some sleep. I’ll be over first thing in the morning to see you.” The dream we’ve been waiting for. A pale, humorless smile touched my lips as a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. David, Harvard was always your dream. Not mine. I even chose to major in the sciences, which I’ve always hated, just to be with you. And it turned out I chose wrong. I didn’t reply. As I was about to put my phone down, another message popped up. It was from Silas—the guy who made even the toughest kids from other schools shake in their boots. But instead of something intimidating, he’d sent me a series of cute Hello Kitty pictures. “Can I get this design on my helmet?” I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. I replied with a simple “Sure, whatever you want,” and my phone went quiet again. The next morning, before David could arrive, I went to his house. Not for him, but for the little terrier I’d rescued and left in his care. I wasn’t expecting to walk in and find David and Leah playing with my dog on the living room floor. She was wearing one of my silk pajama sets. My sudden appearance made even the unflappable David flinch. He scrambled to explain. “Leah lives way out in the suburbs. Everyone was out so late last night, so I let her crash here—” “Do whatever you want.” I cut him off, my tone indifferent. I whistled for my dog, Buster, and he came trotting over, tail wagging. I gathered up his food, his bed, and all his toys, packing everything to take with me. “Oh, and one more thing,” I said, turning to the housekeeper with a polite smile before I left. “Could you please throw out anything that belongs to me? Or, you can just let that young lady take it home with her. She seems to have a taste for other people’s things.” Before I could walk out the door, David’s voice, low and simmering with anger, stopped me. “Vivian, apologize. And for God’s sake, drop the princess attitude. Did your parents teach you nothing about respect?” My eyes shot back at him, sharp as daggers. He flinched, realizing his mistake. My parents died in a car crash years ago. It’s always just been my grandfather and me. He rushed toward me, trying to pull me into a hug, but I shoved him away, hard. “Why should I apologize? When you give my things away, it’s charity. When I call her out on it, it’s an insult? What kind of twisted logic is that?” “You!” Any trace of guilt he’d felt vanished. Before David could say another word, Leah’s delicate hand covered his mouth. “Don’t, David. It’s all my fault. You were up all night taking care of me because I was drunk. You’re exhausted, you shouldn’t get worked up.” Then, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears, and bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, Vivian. I know a poor girl like me can never compare to you. I’ll leave now.” I hugged Buster closer, a mocking smile on my face. A bottomless disgust churned in my stomach. Not just for this manipulative, two-faced girl, but for the blind, self-righteous boy who was falling for her act. “You’re wrong. You’re not just poor,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “You’re more like a sewer rat, born with an instinct for coveting what belongs to others.” 4 I turned on my heel, ignoring the sound of sobbing that echoed from the mansion behind me. After getting Buster settled at home, I remembered I still hadn’t submitted my university choice. On a strange impulse, I sent a text to Silas. “Where did you apply?” He replied almost instantly. “Stanford.” I didn’t say anything else, just a simple “Okay.” Then I changed my application to Stanford and hit submit. I was about to go downstairs to tell my grandfather when I saw David and Leah walking in, holding a large bouquet of lilies. A sharp pain pulsed in my temple. I flew down the stairs. “Get out of my house!” My shout seemed to snap the last of David’s patience. “Vivian! What has gotten into you?” he roared. “You said those horrible things to Leah, and she didn’t even get angry. She came here to apologize to you!” “Do you have any idea how long she saved up to buy these flowers? She used half a year’s worth of her allowance! And you tell her to get out?” By now, my eyes were wild with panic. I shoved them both towards the door, my voice frantic. “David, you know Grandpa is deathly allergic to lilies! And you let her bring them in here?” My words finally registered. He remembered. “I’m sorry, they were the cheapest bouquet at the florist, I was in a hurry…” “Get. Out!” I screamed until my throat was raw, but it was too late. My grandfather had already stepped out of his study. He took one breath, and his face instantly swelled, turning a blotchy red. He clutched his throat, gasping for air. “To the hospital! Now!” In the emergency room, I paced the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs. David stood by, watching me, at a loss for words. But when he saw Leah crying, he didn’t hesitate to pull her into a comforting embrace. “Stop crying,” he murmured. “Her grandpa will be fine.” “Be fine?” My eyes were bloodshot. I felt like a caged animal. “David, you know he’s the only family I have left! And you brought lilies here to kill him! All because they were cheap? All to protect Leah’s pathetic, worthless pride? You were willing to risk his life for that? My grandfather’s life?” I thought, I hoped, he would show some remorse. But I never could have imagined the look on his face. It was utterly calm. “Vivian, do you have any idea how much you sound like a shrew right now?” His words nailed me to the spot. All I could do was watch as Leah fell to her knees before me. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Whatever the medical bills are, I’ll pay you back! I’ll sell everything I have, I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll pay you back!” Just then, our classmates, having heard what happened, arrived at the hospital. They saw the scene and rushed to pull Leah to her feet, their faces filled with righteous indignation. “Vivian, are you for real? It’s just an allergic reaction. He’ll take some medicine and be fine. It’s not like he’s going to die.” “I can’t believe we ever thought you were cool. You think just because you’re rich you can do whatever you want. Leah, don’t worry, the whole class will chip in before we let you suffer this humiliation.” The accusations rained down on me, a deafening storm that drowned out everything else. And yet, through the noise, one thing became painfully clear: the look on David’s face. The unwavering conviction that I was being completely irrational. In my most vulnerable moment, he stood with everyone else, on the opposite side, forgetting he had once promised to stand against the world for me. A wave of profound helplessness washed over me. The world tilted, and my legs gave out. David instinctively lunged forward to catch me, but I pushed him away, my body trembling. “Don’t touch me.” My eyes were vacant, staring into nothingness. I curled into a ball on the floor. “David,” I repeated, my voice a hollow whisper. “I don’t want you anymore.” He shot to his feet, his chest heaving with rage. “Vivian, you said it! Let’s just see how many days you can last this time!” He stormed away, his new friends trailing behind him. As Leah turned to follow, she shot a look over her shoulder, her face alight with an undisguised, triumphant smile. I didn’t care. My eyes were glued to the glowing “IN SURGERY” light. Suddenly, two figures appeared at the end of the hall, running against the tide of people leaving. “Vivian!” “Vivian!” At the sound of their voices, the dam finally broke, and a sob tore from my throat. And just like that, the boy who had once made my young heart flutter disappeared from my future forever. David, I will never forgive you.

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As the princess of the Spirit Realm, I was born bonded to Heartseeker, the blade fabled for its ultimate devotion. In my last life, to hasten the birth of its Blade Spirit, I endured daily baptisms in scorching bronze water and anointed it with my own blood. On the day the Blade Spirit finally formed, celestial energy converged from across the world, shaking the very foundations of existence. The Celestial Emperor himself descended from the heavens to grant me divinity, bestowing upon me dominion over mortal fate. But as I prepared to offer my thanks, the Blade Spirit manifested its true form and ran me through with the very sword I had nurtured. He held my sister, Joanne, in his arms, looking down at me with cold disdain. “You only ascended because of my power,” he sneered. “If you are worthy of this godhood, then Joanne is as well!” Only then did I understand. The Blade Spirit I had sacrificed everything for had loved my sister all along. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past, watching Joanne throw a tantrum, demanding to switch bonded blades with me. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I tossed Heartseeker straight to her. I wanted to see just how they would ascend to godhood without me. 1 The hollow emptiness of my soul’s dissipation felt as if it had happened only a second ago, yet when I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by the familiar sights of the day my Blade Spirit was to be awakened. As spirits, we exist above mortals but below the gods. Those of us with royal blood are born with a bonded blade, a companion sword whose power and nature reflect our own. My bonded blade was Heartseeker, one of the ten legendary celestial swords. It was foretold that once its spirit awakened, I would gain the power to command the fates of the mortal realm. I grew up bearing the weight of immense expectation, with the Royal Seer himself predicting I would be the next goddess to ascend from our realm. And so, under the watchful eyes of my entire kingdom, the day of the awakening ceremony arrived. In my previous life, a small incident occurred just before the ritual. My half-sister, Joanne, tried to steal Heartseeker and replace it with her own blade. If our father hadn’t discovered her in time, Heartseeker would have been lost to me. Now, I watched as Joanne knelt in the center of the great hall, her face a mask of bitter resentment as she screamed at our father on the throne. “Why? We are both your daughters, yet Sybil was born with Heartseeker by her side, while I was given this useless piece of bronze meant for farming!” Her voice cracked with fury. “I am the elder princess! But Sybil outshines me at every turn. You call it talent, but I call it favoritism!” Our father slammed his hand on the armrest, his face flushed with anger. “As her older sister, you try to steal her bonded blade, and you still have the audacity to argue? For the past century, I have clearly been too lenient with you!” But Joanne wouldn’t back down, her frustration dissolving into tears. “Lenient? Since you married your new queen, when have you ever cared for me? Father, if my mother knew you treated me this way, how could she ever rest in peace?” As she wept, I noticed Heartseeker, resting on its stand, begin to vibrate, a low hum resonating from its steel. In my past life, I was blind. The sword’s preference was so obvious, yet I had noticed nothing. Joanne staggered to her feet, her eyes burning with hatred as she looked at me. “Father, if you cannot decide, then let Heartseeker decide!” she declared. “Sybil, do you dare face the trial with me? Let us both offer our blood and see whom the blade chooses!” Seeing her so resolute, a thought sparked in my mind. She must have been reborn, too. Before my father could forbid it, I accepted without a moment’s hesitation. “Fine. If Heartseeker truly desires you, then I have no want for a blade so quick to betray its master.” Joanne’s eyes lit up. Before our father could intervene, we had both sliced open our palms. As the entire court watched, the moment Heartseeker sensed Joanne’s blood, it shot into the sky like a comet. After circling a few times, it came to a stop, hovering directly before her. A triumphant, almost manic laugh escaped Joanne’s lips. “It chose me! Heartseeker chose me!” Watching the sword make its choice without even waiting for me to complete the ritual, a wave of bitter irony washed over me. For a hundred years, I had submitted myself to daily torture, bathing in molten bronze and feeding it my lifeblood, all so I wouldn’t tarnish its legendary name. All that suffering, only to hand-craft a wedding dress for Joanne. While the court reeled in disbelief at Heartseeker’s decision, a drop of blood from my hand fell, landing unnoticed on the humble bronze sword Joanne had tossed aside. The next moment, the discarded blade flared with a soft, warm light. It rose from the floor and stood before me, silent and steady. It had chosen me. 2 “Hahaha! Well, well, little sister, it seems this piece of junk is your true destiny after all! I knew it! A blade like that could never be worthy of the great elder princess of the Spirit Realm!” Joanne, now holding Heartseeker, mocked me without restraint. “You two are a perfect match! Aren’t you always talking about bringing fortune to the mortals? Go on then! Go help those wretched peasants plant their crops!” Our father, surveying the chaos, rubbed his temples. “Joanne, that’s enough! Return Heartseeker to Sybil at once!” “No need,” I said, speaking before Joanne could. I reached out and took the hilt of the plain bronze sword. “Since the blades have chosen their masters, let it be. A bronze sword, a celestial sword—what does it matter? In the end, it is the hand that wields the blade that counts.” My defiance only enraged Joanne more. “Don’t you get high and mighty with me! We’ll see how proud you are when you can’t even conjure a spirit from that pathetic excuse for a sword!” I ignored her taunts. She was right about one thing: my priority now was to awaken the spirit within this bronze blade. A fully formed Blade Spirit was a being of near-divine power, after all. Back in my palace, I prepared to anoint the bronze sword with my lifeblood, just as I had done with Heartseeker for a century. But as I moved to do so, the sword seemed to sense my intent and pulsed with a gentle light, stopping me. It then tilted, showing me the engravings on its side. On the hilt was the art of the harvest; on the blade itself, the words “Mountains, Rivers, Grass, and Trees.” I ventured a guess. “Are you telling me the way to awaken your spirit is to ensure the mortal world’s crops and livestock flourish in their proper seasons?” The sword hummed and flew two quick, happy circles around me. I immediately summoned the Mirror of Souls, a divine artifact used to observe the mortal realm, intending to find a place in need of a blessing. But what I saw horrified me. Instead of an orderly cycle of seasons, a famine stretched for a thousand miles across the land. “How could this be?” I gasped. “How long has it been since Joanne fulfilled her duty to the mortal world?” As if on cue, Joanne’s scornful voice drifted in from outside my palace. “Sybil, you truly are determined to debase yourself. Are you really rushing to save those worthless mortals?” She entered, sneering. “We are spirits. Are they even worth our time? Only someone with your pathetic, narrow view of the world would willingly do such thankless work.” Her eyes narrowed with contempt. “You’re just like your mother. Pathetic and baseborn.” Joanne’s mother had died in childbirth. Though no one in the palace ever spoke of her, Joanne had always carried herself as the true, legitimate heir. She saw my mother as nothing more than an illegitimate usurper and never showed her an ounce of respect. Hearing her insult my mother so brazenly, the rage I had suppressed finally erupted. “Shut your mouth!” I lashed out with a wave of spiritual energy. Joanne didn’t even try to dodge. A calculating smile played on her lips. In the next instant, Heartseeker materialized from thin air, shattering my attack before hurtling straight towards me. The bronze sword at my side shot in front of me, trying to protect me, but it was no match for a celestial blade. It held for a mere second. If not for my quick reflexes, the blade would have claimed my life, not just grazed my cheek. I pressed a hand to the bronze sword, which was trembling with fury. Joanne, who had never seen me so disheveled, burst into laughter. “Do you see now, Sybil? Do you know what it feels like to be trampled underfoot? Oh, this is just delightful!” Her voice was giddy with power. “Do you realize that with a single command, I can have Heartseeker end your life? This feeling is absolutely intoxicating!” I stared at her coldly, then aimed for her weak spot. “Joanne, you have neglected your duties for a century, causing endless famine in the mortal realm. If word of this were to reach the Celestial Court, do you still think you could ascend to godhood?” Just as I expected, the triumphant smile on her face froze. To become a god, one must accumulate blessings and merit. By neglecting the mortals, she had earned their hatred, not their worship. Her own merits were shallow to begin with; if the gods discovered she had actively harmed the mortal realm, her path to divinity would be severed forever. Cornered by my threat, Joanne had no choice but to retreat, her face a mask of bitter reluctance. After she left, I followed the guidance of the bronze sword. Using the Mirror of Souls, I sowed seeds across the famished lands. Then, using my own lifeblood as a conduit, I called down the waters of the Celestial River, causing the crops to grow with miraculous speed. As ripened wheat and plump fruits appeared before their eyes, the mortals wept with joy, falling to their knees and bowing towards the heavens. “Praise be to the Harvest God! Thank you, thank you!” Absorbed in their joy, I didn’t notice that as my bronze sword absorbed the mortals’ grateful blessings, a faint golden light shimmered across its surface. 3 After several seasons of tending to the mortal realm, the day of my ascension from my previous life arrived. This time, however, the star of the show was Joanne. She had been boasting for weeks, proclaiming to the entire Spirit Realm that this was the day she would summon her Blade Spirit and become the new goddess. As guests and dignitaries arrived, she held her head high, already behaving as if she wore a divine crown. She seemed to be waiting for me. Only when I appeared did she speak, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Today is the day I become a god. Soon, I will be one of the divine, a world apart from the likes of you! Try not to be too jealous, Sybil.” Ignoring the sour looks from the crowd, she drew on her spiritual power and poured it into Heartseeker. The next moment, the eternally pleasant weather of the Spirit Realm roiled and turned violent. Dark clouds gathered, and lightning split the sky. With two deafening cracks of thunder, a man clad in green, radiating immense divine power, appeared before them. The Royal Seer was the first to cry out. “The Blade… the Blade Spirit! That’s the Spirit of Heartseeker! He’s a demigod!” The spirit, whose name was Ignis, glanced at the crowd with disdain, but his expression softened the moment his eyes fell on Joanne. He stepped forward, ignoring everyone else, and gently caressed her cheek, his eyes filled with an almost obsessive adoration. “Joanne,” he murmured. “We finally meet.” “You have awakened me. You are my fated love. For all of eternity, I will protect you.” Joanne was trembling with excitement, gazing at Ignis, her heart pounding in anticipation of what would come next. But then… nothing. The dark clouds dispersed, and tranquility returned. The great convergence of celestial energy from my past life never happened. The Celestial Emperor did not descend to grant her divinity. The smile on Joanne’s face slowly vanished. She grabbed Ignis’s sleeve, her voice shrill with panic. “Why did nothing happen? Where is the Emperor? Why haven’t I ascended? Say something!” Ignis looked just as confused. He tried to summon the world’s energy, but failed. Before he could answer, I felt an invisible force lift me into the air. My bronze sword, which I had put away, materialized before me, letting out a sharp, clear ring. Having been through this once, I knew exactly what this was: the prelude to a Blade Spirit’s birth. But this was just a simple bronze sword. Could it truly birth a spirit? As I hesitated, Joanne, still seething from her failed ascension, turned her anger on me. “That piece of junk? You actually think it can produce a Blade Spirit? Sybil, you’ve truly lost your mind!” Her mockery was the final push I needed. I cast aside my doubts, drew on my own spiritual power, and merged it with the bronze sword. The sky, which had just cleared, was once again swallowed by darkness. But this time, beneath the roiling clouds, the roar of dragons echoed, and golden dragons could be seen weaving through the gloom. The very earth shook, sending boulders tumbling down from the Unshakable Mountain. The divine pressure was so immense that everyone present was forced to their knees, prostrating themselves on the ground. Only I remained untouched, my robes fluttering gently as I stood in the center of the storm, face-to-face with the Blade Spirit who had just appeared before me. He wore a golden crown, his black robes embroidered with golden dragons. His gaze was direct and intense, and though he moved with the grace of a scholar, he radiated the power of a thunderstorm. “My lady,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “My name is Anthony. I am the Blade Spirit you have awakened.” Two Blade Spirits born in a single day. It was unheard of in the history of the Spirit Realm. I saw the muscles in Joanne’s jaw tighten. She was afraid. Afraid that I, just like in her previous life, would draw the attention of the Emperor and ascend to godhood. But this time was different. I did not immediately ascend. Joanne let out a shaky breath, her arrogant demeanor returning in a rush. “Hmph. So you managed to stumble your way into summoning a low-level spirit. A shame he’s nothing compared to my Ignis.” She shot me a condescending look. “Just you wait. The next goddess to ascend from this realm will be me!” With that, she grabbed Ignis’s hand and practically dragged him toward her palace. Others might not have known what she was planning, but I did. Once bonded, a Blade Spirit was the most compatible partner for cultivation. Joanne was going to use him to rapidly increase her power and force her ascension. I suppressed a scornful smile. I only hoped she wouldn’t regret her choice. 4 Back in my palace, I watched Anthony, who followed me with quiet devotion. I couldn’t help but ask. “Anthony, Ignis was nurtured by divine power and a century of my lifeblood to take form. But you… I’ve done nothing for you. How is this possible?” Hearing my words, Anthony frowned slightly. He stepped closer and gently pressed his forehead against mine. “A century of your lifeblood,” he murmured, his voice soft. “That must have hurt terribly.” A stream of pale golden energy flowed from where we touched. To my astonishment, I felt the chronic ache in my heart begin to fade. To nourish Heartseeker, I had strained my heart to the point of illness, a secret I had never told anyone. In my last life, even after we were bonded, Ignis knew of my condition but never showed a hint of concern. Sensing my sudden wave of sorrow, Anthony wrapped his arms around me, gently patting my back. “You have already done more than enough for me,” he explained. “You brought order to the seasons of the mortal world, making their harvests plentiful. The mortals, in their gratitude, offered you their prayers and worship. Those blessings became the power that allowed me to take form.” He held me tighter. “Sybil. From now on, I will protect you. I will ensure you live up to your name, free of all worry.” I leaned against him. Though Joanne was right that he might not be as powerful as Ignis, his simple embrace brought me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in lifetimes. After that day, the entire Spirit Realm was watching Joanne and me, speculating on which of us would be the first to ascend. For the next two weeks, Joanne left me in peace. But I never expected that on the very day Anthony was away tending to the mortal realm’s spring planting, she and Ignis would come for me. I frowned, instinctively calling for the guards outside. But Ignis simply tossed their lifeless bodies at my feet. “Sybil,” he said coolly, “they can’t help you.” Seeing him kill with such casual cruelty, I trembled with rage. “You call yourself a demigod, yet you slaughter our people like a demon! Ignis, do you not fear retribution?” He was completely unbothered. “I am the spirit of Heartseeker. Even minor gods must bow to me. Do I look like I fear anything?” A ball of fire materialized in Joanne’s hand, a divine power she had gained from cultivating with Ignis. Her eyes were filled with malice. “I was going to spare you,” she hissed, “but you just had to push your luck, forcing a spirit from that pathetic sword to compete with me.” “If that’s how you want it, then don’t blame me for forgetting we are sisters! Today, you will die!” Heartseeker was a fire-aligned blade, its flames rivaling those of the mythical Vermilion Bird. Realizing her intent, I immediately launched myself at her, fighting for my life. But after cultivating with Ignis, Joanne’s power was now equal to my own. And Ignis, forgetting the century I had spent nurturing him, saw his chance. While I was engaged with Joanne, he struck, slamming his palm directly into my chest. “How dare you lay a hand on Joanne!” he roared. “You’re asking for death!” A wave of excruciating pain shot through me. I coughed up mouthfuls of blood, unable to even get back on my feet. Seeing me so broken and helpless, Joanne let out a wild, triumphant laugh. “Look at you, Sybil! Like a drowned dog! This is more satisfying than I ever imagined! After tonight, there will be only one princess in the Spirit Realm, and only one goddess to ascend!” “Now, sleep forever!” With her final word, she and Ignis combined their power to summon a raging inferno that consumed my palace. Then, after wiping every trace of their presence, they vanished. The air shimmered with heat. I struggled to my feet, trying to escape, but I was completely surrounded by a wall of fire. The flames began to devour my robes, the searing pain on my skin unbearable. Staring into the void, I choked out a desperate cry. “Anthony, save me!”

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