Category: English

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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Reborn into a horror game as a bride-to-be, I faced two stunning gothic suitors. I pointed at the black-clad youth. 【OMG! Not him! He dismembers brides!】 Switching to the white-robed one: 【Worse! Vampire who drains you in one night!】 The chat scrolled: 【Look outside! That stable boy’s your real soulmate!】 I smiled at the ordinary boy. Did they really think I’d fall for this again? 1. A few years ago, the Haunting descended upon the world. Every youth, upon their eighteenth birthday, was forcibly dragged into a horror game. Today happened to be my adoptive sister’s eighteenth birthday. To ensure Lila survived, my family had spared no expense. They’d spent a fortune on priceless artifacts and even joined her in the game instance to protect her. They dragged me along, too. Under the guise of “helping” her with my “experience.” What a fucking joke. On my eighteenth birthday, my family had conveniently booked a last-minute vacation, leaving me to fend for myself. In my last life, I saw those same comments in the chat. I believed them. I chose the unremarkable stable boy outside the window. But he wasn’t the main character. He was just a random NPC. My choice sent the final boss into an uncontrollable rage. The game switched to Nightmare Mode, allowing the boss to kill without restriction. When the rage peaked, the entire instance would collapse. The mission objective updated: Calm the enraged boss to prevent the instance from collapsing. I don’t need to tell you how horrifically I died. The cause of death listed more than a dozen different things. Meanwhile, Lila, armed with her family-funded artifacts, stepped forward and offered to marry the boss in my place. After burning through a trove of priceless items, she successfully calmed the enraged boss. My family cleared the instance without a scratch. Lila, as the hero of the hour, received an SSS+ rating and the instance’s special reward. Only then did I understand. Why was I the bride-to-be? It was all a setup, a stepping stone for Lila. She had deliberately used an artifact to post fake comments, tricking me into making the wrong choice and enraging the boss. Her goal was to get her hands on the instance’s unique special reward: 【The Instance’s Blessing – Oh dear, are players feeling dizzy, panicky, and terrified the moment they enter an instance? With my blessing, your next run will be nothing but a pleasant trip~ All damage (physical and mental) is completely nullified. You will be the ghouls’ most precious god; you’ll be so untouchable, you could ride them like ponies and… well, you get the idea. Tee-hee, being mean isn’t nice~ PS: This is a single-use consumable item.】 To get their precious adoptive daughter this game-breaking artifact, my family didn’t hesitate to sacrifice me, their actual, biological daughter. The irony was laughable. 2. Seeing me stand frozen, Lila gave me a subtle nudge. “Sera, why haven’t you chosen yet? The timer’s running out!” she whispered urgently. “Oh, by the way, I heard some intel before we came in. This is a death trap. You can’t pick either of them.” She glanced around theatrically, her eyes finally landing on the stable boy. “Sera, do you think… maybe it’s one of those guys outside? They don’t look like normal NPCs. Maybe one of them is the right choice.” The chat feed erupted in agreement with Lila. 【Yes, yes! The heroine’s sister is so smart!】 【Haha, the main character just has that charm. You can spot him even when he’s disguised as an NPC.】 【Why isn’t the heroine moving? Is she stupid? Listen to your sister!】 【He’s your true love! He’ll carry you through all the future instances!】 I curled my lip, fanning myself languidly with a black lace fan. “Dearest sister, I’m not so sure you’re right. The system very clearly told me to choose between these two handsome gentlemen.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over the boy outside. “That stable boy… he seems rather plain to me, from every angle.” I made a show of pointing toward the youth in white. Lila nearly jumped out of her skin, rushing to my ear to dissuade me. I then shifted my finger toward the youth in black. This time, she almost screamed, breaking into a cold sweat. Her voice, no longer a whisper, grew loud with panic. “No! That NPC is a demented serial killer!” Ah. So, picking the one in black was the better option. He was most likely the boss. I hid my face behind my fan, offering a shy smile. “I choose you… to be my husband.” The black-clad youth’s lips curved into a smile. He took my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. His silver hair drifted in the night breeze. “Tonight, at midnight, my carriage will come for you. We will celebrate our union then, my lady.” The youth in white lowered his gaze, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “It seems she prefers you after all, brother.” And with that, he vanished in a flicker of movement. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I had survived. Lila was furious, stomping her foot. “Seraphina, are you insane?! Do you have a death wish? Tell the system you want to change your husband! Now!” The chat was also exploding with insults, calling me an idiot. I looked at Lila, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. This was a role-playing instance. I was the bride-to-be, and Lila was my handmaiden, ‘Lia.’ One of the dozen causes of my death last time was: Severe OOC (Out of Character). Role-play failed. My current identity was the most beloved daughter of a powerful Lord, coddled and spoiled since birth. How could a lady of my station marry a stable boy? And more importantly, how could she ever allow her personal handmaiden to order her around? I raised my hand and brought it down, hard, across Lila’s face. “Insolence! How dare a common servant speak to me with such disrespect?” I snapped, my voice dripping with disdain. “It seems my leniency has made you forget your place!” Lila stared at me, stunned. “Seraphina! You… you hit me?!” she shrieked. “Just wait until I tell Mom and Dad!” SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! A few more sharp slaps, and Lila’s face swelled up like a pufferfish. “You dare defy your mistress? Kneel!” Lila gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with hatred. “Seraphina!” SLAP! “Se—” SLAP! “You worthless thing. Guards!” Two seconds later, two matrons appeared in the doorway. Their faces were polished, grinning skulls. “Oh, dear heavens, Lia, did you upset the Young Mistress again?” one rasped. “The Head Steward warned us. If you stepped out of line again, he would have to teach you a lesson himself,” the other added, her jaw clacking. The moment they entered, the color drained from Lila’s face. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor with a thud. “No, please…” The matrons paid her no mind, grabbing her arms and dragging her out. The door swung open. The Head Steward stood silently at the end of the hall. As Lila was dragged closer, his grin stretched wider and wider. “Mi-Mistress, I was wrong! Please, spare me!” Lila cried, her voice trembling. I waved a dismissive hand. “Let her go. We’ll let it slide this time.” The skeletal matron chuckled. “Young Mistress, you mustn’t be so soft on this wench. She must be punished.” Panic flashed in Lila’s eyes. She bit her lip and, through her tears, used one of her artifact cards. The matrons froze in place, only returning to their senses a moment later. “See that you remember your place, Lia! The next time you transgress, it won’t be a simple punishment!” I clicked my tongue. Tsk, tsk. Lila’s artifacts really were top-notch. After the matrons left, she glared at me, seething with a rage she didn’t dare voice. A few minutes later, the system’s voice echoed from the sky. 【Act One: Complete! Players will now have a fifteen-minute rest period.】 【During this time, players cannot harm one another. Violators will be terminated.】 A summary screen appeared before me. 【Act One – Seraphina’s Role-Playing Score: 30 Points. Rank: A.】 【A very good score! An A-rank unlocks a small character bio. Keep up the good work!】 【You are the cherished firstborn daughter of the Lord of the Manor. Raised in the lap of luxury, you are known for your proud and domineering personality, but beneath it all, you have a soft heart. You and the young heir, Kaelan (the youth in black), are childhood sweethearts who secretly harbor deep feelings for one another. He has sworn to marry you. PS: You are never proud or domineering in front of him.】 【Tee-hee, good thing you didn’t pick the youth in white! You wouldn’t have died, but the instance’s difficulty would have increased~】 I patted my chest in relief. So, picking the white-clad youth wouldn’t have caused a total collapse. Good to know. 3. Lila and I were transported to the Nexus, the central player hub. My parents and my brother, Damian, rushed over to Lila, hugging her tightly. When they saw her swollen face, they looked as if their hearts were breaking. Damian immediately rounded on me. “How could you let this happen to Lila? And you call yourself her sister!” he snarled. “Did you think this was a fucking vacation? Useless.” At his words, Lila burst into tears. “Mom, Dad, brother… sniff… it was Sera… she’s the one who hit me!” “Seraphina! How dare you!” Damian raised his hand to strike me. I stepped back, my voice cold. “Don’t forget what the system said.” I leveled a glare at him. “Besides, this is a role-playing instance. Lila was my handmaiden, and she was screaming orders at me. Is that my fault?” I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s clear the only daughter you care about is Lila. In that case, you don’t have to acknowledge me at all.” Damian reluctantly lowered his hand, his jaw tight with fury. My parents exchanged a look before turning to me with forced smiles. “It was our fault, Sera. We didn’t ask for the full story. But you still shouldn’t have hit your sister.” They fussed over Lila, their concern palpable, and quickly used a high-grade healing card on her face. I held out my hand to them. “And what about me? You all screamed at me, and Damian nearly hit me. Where’s my compensation?” Damian looked like he was about to explode again, but my mother held him back, shaking her head slightly. She then handed me two of the lowest-grade pain-numbing cards. “Sera, dear, we don’t have many cards left. This is all we have. Take them.” … Besides the five of us, there were seven other players in the Nexus. A 12-person instance. The difficulty wasn’t too high, which made sense for a first-timer’s run. When the others heard I was the bride-to-be, their eyes filled with envy. “Wow, you’re so lucky. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, you’re basically guaranteed to survive.” “The bride-to-be… that’s like a one-in-a-million role to draw.” “Right? Not like me. I’m a fucking brothel madam. I have to deal with clients and the girls. It’s exhausting.” “Heh, you think that’s bad? I’m a beggar… my first mission was to eat garbage to gain a noble’s pity. I fucking puked my guts out!” Damn. That was truly awful. My parents, it turned out, were the parents of the youth in white—another role that was safe as long as they didn’t court death. Hearing this made me even more relieved I hadn’t chosen him; I can only imagine how those two would have tormented me. Damian was my brother. That’s right, the bastard son of my father, the Lord of the Manor. My half-brother. The more the other players heard, the more jealous they became. “Your family is incredibly lucky. Those are all such difficult roles to get.” I scoffed. This wasn’t luck. This was a superpower bought with money. Only Lila was biting her lip in frustration, probably regretting her decision to give the bride-to-be role to me. The system announced two minutes of rest time remaining. After a quick exchange of information, the other players dispersed. Only the five of us remained. My family surrounded me, their faces etched with concern. My father grabbed my hand. “Sera, you chose the youth in black?” “Oh, honey, that was the wrong choice! Why didn’t you listen to Lila? It’s a trap!” my mother chimed in. “This instance might seem simple, but it’s full of pitfalls. And that choice is the biggest one!” “Listen to us. When you see the heir again, you tell him you made a mistake. Tell him you want to marry the stable boy outside.” “The heir loves you so much, he’ll surely agree,” my mother cooed, wiping away a non-existent tear. “You’re both my precious babies. I can’t bear to lose you.” A crocodile feigning grief. I gave them a few noncommittal answers and returned to the Manor. The matrons were waiting to help me with my hair and makeup. My game-mother, the Lady of the Manor, was the one to style my hair herself. As she worked, she wept. “Oh, Sera… if that Kaelan boy dares to bully you, you tell me! I’ll go and teach him a lesson!” she sobbed. “You’re my only daughter… boohoo…” Her tears fell like rain. I sighed. My game-mother was a better parent than my real ones. I turned and hugged her, my tone light. “Don’t worry, Mother. You’ve watched Kaelan grow up. He loves me too much to ever hurt me.” She slipped a magnificent emerald green bracelet from her wrist and slid it onto mine. The moment I touched it, I almost laughed out loud. Forget its monetary value; just from the feel of it, I could tell it was an instance artifact. Brilliant. This was a damn good role to have. Once I was ready, all that was left was to wait for the carriage. But I hadn’t expected Damian to be so impatient. He came directly to my courtyard. Smarter than Lila, he at least paid his respects to the Lady of the Manor first. My game-mother’s face darkened the moment she saw him. “Are you here to give your sister a wedding gift?” Damian paused, then bowed. “Mother, could you grant me a moment? I wish to speak with my sister alone.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Insolence! Your sister is getting married today. Not only do you come empty-handed, but you wish to be alone with her? What do you have to discuss?” Her voice turned to ice. “Get out. I won’t repeat myself.” Damian gritted his teeth and pulled a small box from his sleeve. “Sister, this is a wedding gift for you. It’s not much, but please accept it.” I took the box and opened it a crack. A wide smile spread across my face. It was an artifact card. A high-tier defensive one, capable of creating a protective shield. He was really willing to pay a high price just to speak with me. The Lady’s expression softened. She sat back in her chair and picked up her teacup. “If you have something to say, say it. Don’t dawdle.” After waiting a moment, Damian realized she had no intention of leaving. He closed his eyes, leaned in, and whispered, “Sera, I’m your real brother. I would never hurt you. Mom and Dad used an artifact to learn some of the plot. You have to tell Kaelan when he comes to get you.” I tilted my head. “Tell him what?” “That you’re not marrying him! That you’re marrying the stable boy!” I admired my freshly painted nails, a small smile playing on my lips. “Brother, are you suggesting that I, the daughter of a Lord, should marry a common servant who cleans the stables?” My voice wasn’t particularly quiet. It carried perfectly to my game-mother’s ears. 4. Before I could even blink, a gust of wind tore through the room. With a deafening BOOM, Damian was sent flying dozens of meters away. If it weren’t for the protective artifacts he was wearing, he would have been a dead man. My game-mother’s hair whipped around her, her entire body radiating a terrifying black aura. “Damian! What you just said… SAY! IT! AGAIN!” Damian, completely stunned, lay on the ground, twitching and coughing up blood. “Mother… I didn’t… I was just telling my sister to… to marry him without worry.” In an instant, she was beside him, her foot raised to stomp down. The sheer force behind the impending blow was immense; Damian’s protective artifacts probably wouldn’t have been enough to save him. I remembered my character’s description. Proud and domineering, but with a soft heart. Judging by the Lady’s reaction, her relationship with Damian in the game wasn’t entirely hostile. At the critical moment, I rose slowly and spoke, my voice calm. “Mother, let it go. My brother didn’t mean any harm.” I forced a smile. “Today is my wedding day. We should be happy.” The Lady snorted. When she turned back to me, her expression had softened back to its usual maternal warmth. “Damian, there will not be a next time.” “Yes, yes, Mother,” he stammered, scrambling to his feet and scurrying away like a frightened rat. A few minutes later, a soft, clear ringing of bells filled the air. A phantom fragrance of night-blooming flowers accompanied the sound, and then, Kaelan’s figure materialized from the shadows. A carriage, black as polished jet and etched with dark gold filigree, floated silently behind him. He had come for his bride. He slowly extended his hand to me, his dark eyes intense. “My lady, I’ve come for you.” The moment I stepped into the carriage, the system issued a new mission. 【Since this is a role-playing instance, you must commit to your role.~】 【Spend the wedding night with your new husband.~】 Wait, what? Spend the night? Was this the kind of ‘spending the night’ I was thinking of? I swallowed hard. Not because I was lusting after him, of course. I was just… a little thirsty. He was that handsome. Would it really be a loss to sleep with him? Not only would it not be a loss, but I could even brag about it when I got out. I, Seraphina, have slept with a ghoul from a horror game. Have you? Heh. Just as my mind was drifting into fantasy, the system continued. 【Player, please be advised! This role-playing segment is extremely important and will determine your life or death.】 【Shhh, don’t let Kaelan find out you’re an imposter Seraphina.】 【PS: ‘Spending the night together’ doesn’t necessarily mean… well, you know. Please choose the action that best fits your character’s personality. (But then again, maybe it does! Tee-hee~)】 Hold on! Didn’t it say my role was safe as long as I didn’t do anything stupid? What was this about a life-or-death choice?! I pulled up the character bio for the Lord’s daughter, reading it over and over. Besides the tidbit I’d unlocked in Act One, there was nothing. Not a single detail about their daily interactions. How the hell was I supposed to choose? System, are you messing with me?! The pink bubbles in my brain popped, one by one. All I could do was hope this act would end soon and give me more clues. After about fifteen minutes, the carriage came to a halt. Kaelan reached in and helped me out. I held my fan high, my steps graceful, every movement exuding an air of noble dignity. But something was wrong. The courtyard, which had been bustling with noise just moments before, fell silent the instant I set foot inside. A chilling aura seemed to press in on me from all sides. I couldn’t resist a peek from behind my fan. What I saw nearly made my heart stop. The guests seated at the tables weren’t people. They were mannequins… no, more like life-sized puppets. They all turned their heads in unison to face me. With every step I took, their heads stretched forward on impossibly long necks. The puppet closest to me was nearly touching my face, even though its body was still seated firmly at its table! My vision went black, my legs turned to jelly. A low chuckle echoed in my ear, and I fell into a warm, strong embrace. The next instant, the puppet in front of me shattered into a thousand splinters with a deafening CRACK. “Continue, if you wish to die,” a cold voice promised. In a heartbeat, the courtyard was filled with noise and life again. I looked again, and the puppets were gone, replaced by living, breathing people. “Congratulations to the Young Lord on marrying his true love!” they cheered.

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Bella shattered the necklace Damian sent. “I don’t want your charity!” she spat. “I’m not some gold digger.” As pearls and diamonds scattered, I knelt to gather them. Damian nudged my hand. “Convince her to wear it,” he ordered, “and I’ll pay your father’s bills.” Bella glared. “Pathetic, Liz. Groveling for his world?” But I had no choice. I held out the broken pearls. She closed her eyes, refusing. I failed. Yet Damian paid anyway. From then on, we were tied to him—but his preference for Bella was clear. He adored her fire; I was just the gold digger tagging along. Years later, when Bella returned, Damian held me close. “Your sister’s back,” he murmured. “I know,” I replied evenly. “I wish you both happiness.” 1 Damian rewarded my words with a kiss, his lips pressing against mine with a sense of satisfied ownership. “Good girl,” he whispered. He leaned back against the headboard, a distant, hazy look in his eyes. “If only Bella was this… obedient.” A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. I didn’t answer, just quietly slipped out of bed and began gathering my things. Suddenly, his hand shot out, his grip on my wrist like a steel band. It was so tight, it hurt. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he demanded. “What am I supposed to say?” I asked softly. He let out a short, sharp laugh and released me, slumping back against the pillows. “Before Bella left for Europe, she told me to take good care of you.” My world tilted. The pain in my chest, once a dull ache, sharpened into a blade. So that was it. The only reason I was allowed to stay by his side was as an act of charity, a favor to Bella. Of course. In Damian’s eyes, I had always been just a pale imitation of my sister. “Bella is always like that,” Damian’s voice was laced with a wistful longing, an undeniable tenderness that was never meant for me. “She’s kind to everyone but me. She saves all her cruelty for me.” I tried to slip away to the bathroom, but he caught my hand again. “Stay. Just a little longer.” Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, carving his handsome profile out of the darkness. For a moment, I was thrown back to the first time I ever saw him. Bella had just accidentally spilled a scalding cup of coffee on his hand. A large, angry red splotch had immediately bloomed on his skin, but he had just smiled. “It’s nothing. As long as you’re not hurt.” “Hmph. I wasn’t going to apologize anyway,” Bella had retorted, tossing her hair. “You rich people are all the same. You think you own the world.” I’d been terrified, ready to apologize for her, for everything. But Damian’s interest had only deepened. “You hate me?” “Yes. I hate spoiled, useless trust-fund babies like you more than anything.” She’d punctuated her sentence with a little stomp of her foot. And Damian had laughed. A real, genuine laugh. I was hiding behind Bella then, a shadow to her sun, watching the undisguised amusement and indulgence in his eyes. And a single thought had echoed in my naive heart: He’s… he’s such a good person. Later, I learned he had fallen for her at first sight. And when he told that story, he never even remembered I had been there at all. The memory shattered. I looked at Damian, who was now lighting a cigarette. “I’ve arranged for your father’s follow-up treatments,” he said, the words curling out with the smoke. “Thank you,” I nodded. “Don’t be so formal.” He took another drag, his eyes settling on my face through the gray haze. “If you want to thank someone, thank your sister. I’m only taking care of your family because of her.” … In the bathroom, the sound of the shower drowned out the choking sobs I was trying to swallow. I let the cold water cascade over me, from head to toe, hoping it would numb the ache inside. When I came out, I was surprised to see he was still there. Damian was leaning against the doorframe, scrolling through his phone. “I’m picking Bella up from the airport tomorrow. Clear my schedule.” “Okay.” He suddenly walked over, took the towel from my hands, and started to dry my hair. His movements were clumsy, awkward, and he kept snagging the tangles, pulling at my scalp until it stung. I closed my eyes and endured it. He must have noticed my wince, because his touch finally softened. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ve… never done this before. I just wanted to practice. For when I do it for Bella.” “It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just be a little gentler. You don’t want to make Bella angry.” He grunted in agreement, and his motions did become much lighter. The next day at the airport, I was by Damian’s side at the crack of dawn. Bella emerged from the arrivals gate in a stunning red dress, a vision of vibrant, sun-kissed beauty. Every head in the terminal turned to watch her. Including Damian’s. He was a blur of motion, rushing forward to take her suitcase. “You must be exhausted,” he said, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it. Bella just gave a noncommittal hum, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me. A flicker of amusement played on her lips. “Liz. You came too?” “It’s been a long time, Bella.” I stepped forward, my smile perfectly polite, perfectly distant. On the drive back, Bella sat in the passenger seat. Damian kept turning to her, their easy laughter filling the car. He had never been so talkative with me. Their conversation drifted from the weather in Paris to silly family anecdotes, a seamless tapestry of shared history and effortless intimacy. I sat in the back, a ghost in the machine, completely invisible. 2 When we got home, Bella gestured for me to grab her luggage and follow her. I obeyed. The moment we were inside her opulent, princess-like bedroom, she spun around and slapped me. The crack of her hand against my cheek echoed in the silent room. “Liz, you are absolutely shameless.” Her voice was dripping with contempt. “While I was abroad, bettering myself, you were here selling your body. God, you’re just like your mother. A cheap whore.” Bella was the daughter of my father’s first wife. A year after their divorce, my father met my mother. They dated, fell in love, and got married. But in Bella’s eyes, my mother would always be the other woman, the homewrecker. It didn’t matter that my own mother, in a desperate attempt to win her over, treated Bella better than she treated me. It was never enough for Bella. She loved to humiliate my mother and me in public, calling Mom a mistress and me the mistress’s daughter. From a young age, those whispers followed me, becoming a brand of shame I couldn’t escape. All the bullying I endured at school could be traced back to Bella. When my father tried to intervene, Bella would simply say: “Dad, nobody else gets bullied. It’s only her. Doesn’t that tell you she’s the one with the problem?” The stinging heat on my cheek pulled me back to the present. “What, cat got your tongue?” Bella sneered, looking down at me. I remained silent. I’d learned my place over the years. I couldn’t afford to upset Bella. Because if Bella was unhappy, Damian would be unhappy. And if Damian was unhappy, my father’s medical funding would disappear. Bella wouldn’t care if he lived or died. Seeing my bowed head, she let out a scornful laugh and sauntered over to her walk-in closet. She pulled out a silk dress and tossed it at me. “Here. Go iron this for me. And make sure it’s perfect. I hate wrinkles.” “Okay,” I whispered, and left the room. In the hallway, I passed the housekeeper. He gave me a look filled with pity and resignation before quickly averting his eyes. After all, who would respect a shameless gold digger? While I was ironing the dress, a blast of steam caught my wrist. A painful red blister rose on my skin almost instantly. I stared at the angry mark and was suddenly reminded of a night Damian had been drunk. He’d mistaken me for Bella, murmuring her name over and over again. “Bella, don’t go… don’t leave me…” His grip had been just as painful then, but I hadn’t pushed him away. Sometimes, a person’s heart is so starved, it will cling to even the most hollow imitation of love. Just then, Damian appeared in the doorway. His gaze fell instantly to my reddened wrist. “What happened to your hand?” “I burned myself by accident,” I answered honestly. He rushed over, his face etched with worry. He took my wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the angry blister. My breath caught in my throat. “Who told you to iron this?” His voice was tight, suppressed. “Bella did.” I always told the truth. A small, bitter smile touched his lips as he let go of my hand. “She’s still the same, always ordering people around.” I didn’t say anything else. He turned to leave, then paused. “That new project you’re managing… give it to your sister.” My eyes shot open, wide with disbelief. By the time I could process his words, he was already gone. Why? The project I had poured my soul into for six months—the early mornings, the late nights, the endless work—he was just giving it away? But I knew. I had no right to refuse. In Damian’s world, Bella and I were the moon and the mud. And I was the mud. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, sleep a million miles away. I got up, needing some air, and found Damian in the living room. He was sitting on the sofa in the dark, smoking, the moonlight tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “You’re still awake?” He saw me and instinctively stubbed out his cigarette. “I was just getting some water.” He nodded silently. But as I turned to leave, he spoke again, more to himself than to me. “I looked forward to her return for so long. But now that she’s back… I don’t know. It feels… ordinary.” My heart skipped a beat. I thought I must have misheard him. Damian looked up at me, his eyes filled with a raw, conflicted struggle. “If I… If I told you I couldn’t bear to let you go… would you think I was insane?” 3 We both pretended that late-night conversation never happened. Bella started working at Friedlander Corp. She was immediately appointed as my direct supervisor. I spent the morning walking her through the company’s procedures, but she just watched me with growing impatience. “This is boring. Let’s just stop here.” “But, there’s still—” I tried to explain, but she cut me off. “Don’t I have you for that? As my subordinate, isn’t it your job to handle these things for me?” Bella gave me a dismissive look, then a cruel smile bloomed on her face. “Then again, the only thing you’re really good at is pleasing men in bed.” The office went silent. Around us, my colleagues froze, their eyes wide, some covering their mouths in shock. But Bella wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, her high heels clicking on the floor, her posture radiating superiority. “What? Did you forget to tell your coworkers that your mother was a cheap mistress who broke up a marriage? You two are cut from the same cloth.” “My mother was not a mistress,” I retorted, meeting her gaze. She covered her mouth with a manicured hand, letting out a high-pitched, mocking laugh. “Oh, listen to you. Still denying it? Of course. People like you have no shame.” … The scandal spread through the company like wildfire. After work, Damian summoned me to his office. His friends were there, a pack of smirking hyenas, their eyes raking over me with amusement. I thought Damian might issue a statement, put a stop to the rumors. Instead, all he said was, “You shouldn’t have made your sister angry.” I bit my lip, fighting back the tears that burned behind my eyes. He continued, his voice devoid of warmth. “Bella has been very good to you. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have even had the money for college. Liz, you need to learn to be grateful.” I looked up, my eyes red-rimmed. Yes, I knew. If it weren’t for Bella, we wouldn’t have received Damian’s support. My father would have died long ago, unable to afford his treatments. I would have dropped out of school, trapped in poverty. Damian’s lecture was a clear warning: do not resent your sister. As I left his office, I could hear the raucous laughter from inside. “Damn, Damian, you’re cold. She’s a pretty little thing, you know. You sure you want to be that harsh?” “Yeah, man. What if you actually scare her away for good?” “Say what you will about Liz, she might be a spineless gold digger compared to her sister, but she’s always been completely devoted to you.” Damian’s voice, careless and cutting, drifted out. “She can’t hold a candle to Bella. It’s the difference between the moon in the sky and the mud on the ground. If she didn’t look so much like Bella, why would I ever have kept her around?” Another wave of laughter followed. I quickened my pace, desperate to escape. In the end, Damian gave the project to Bella. All she did was sign her name on the final page, yet she received all the credit. She became an overnight sensation in the industry. When people talked about her, the brilliant rising star, they inevitably mentioned me. “Those two sisters… one is a fearless, ambitious powerhouse, and the other is just a parasitic vine, clinging to whatever branch she can.” “Liz is just riding her sister’s coattails, and she’s not even grateful for it.” The rumors were like thorns, wrapping around my neck, tightening their grip until I could barely breathe. At the celebration banquet, Bella was the center of attention, surrounded by admirers. She held her champagne flute high, her smile radiant. Someone raised their glass in a toast. “Ms. Linwood, you are truly a force to be reckoned with! Our CEO is a lucky man to have such a capable partner by his side.” Damian smiled in response, but his eyes, almost unconsciously, drifted across the room and met mine. I offered him a small, empty smile and turned to leave. I didn’t see the deep furrow that creased his brow as I walked away. I moved through the party like a ghost. Bella was a natural-born star; even stolen glory looked magnificent on her, and she spoke of her “achievements” with righteous conviction. As for me, I didn’t even have the right to defend myself. With her newfound fame, the elders of the Friedlander family softened their stance. They announced that if Bella’s performance remained strong through the next quarter, they would officially welcome her into the family. When Bella heard the news, she put on a grand display of insulted, haughty pride. “And you think I should be happy about this? What makes you so special? You were just born lucky, that’s all.” “I will not grovel and scheme just to marry into your family.” “Everything I do—my education, my work—I do it for myself. It has nothing to do with any of you.” Her speech left the Friedlander elders speechless, their faces turning shades of purple. Damian quickly stepped in to smooth things over, his eyes shining with adoration for Bella. “That’s just how Bella is,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “She’s real. She’s not fake. Don’t take it to heart, Grandpa.” I stood to the side, watching the whole absurd spectacle unfold.

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My mother-in-law’s family was bitten by a venomous snake while camping. The only antivenom was at my husband’s company. I called him, but all I heard on the other end was the sound of moans and splashing water. Before I could say a word, he hung up. My mother-in-law’s family died in the hospital because they didn’t get the treatment in time. That’s when my husband called me. “Don’t cremate your parents’ bodies,” he said. “Send them to my company. They can be cadavers for medical research.” He thought it was my family who had been bitten. I hung up the phone, looked at the five corpses behind me, and did exactly as he asked. … By the time I got to the hospital, my husband’s family was on the brink of death. The doctor told me the snake was incredibly rare, and the only known antivenom was stockpiled at my husband, Jeff’s, company. I called Jeff frantically, but he rejected every call. On the hundredth try, he finally picked up. “It’s Sophia’s birthday. I’m spending the night with her. Stop being so paranoid!” With his family dying in the emergency room, I swallowed my anger and spit out the words. “Your parents and your sister’s family were bitten by a snake! The hospital doesn’t have the antivenom, only your company does! You have to get it here, now!” Before I could finish, Jeff cut me off, his voice dripping with scorn. “One vial of that antivenom costs over a hundred thousand dollars, Thea. Does your family have no shame?” “Your whole family gets bitten, and you come crawling to my company for a handout? What do you take me for? A fool?” “You need to take a long, hard look at yourself.” He hung up without another word and blocked my number. I slumped onto a hospital chair, stunned, unable to believe what I had just heard. A notification popped up on my phone. It was from the Chanel boutique, informing me that the limited-edition, multi-million-dollar handbag my parents had ordered for my birthday had just been picked up. By my husband. I didn’t have to guess where it was. It was on Sophia’s arm. He had a habit of stealing my things to give to his “one true love,” Sophia. Whenever I objected, he would sneer at me. “You’re a married woman, Thea. What do you need a bag that expensive for? No one’s going to notice you anyway. Let Sophia have it. She needs it for her business meetings.” “Don’t be so petty. Sophia is like a sister to me! If you love me, you have to accept how much I care for her.” He worshipped Sophia. Limited-edition bags, sports cars, luxury apartments—he showered her with gifts, practically offering her his heart on a platter. And me, his actual wife? I wasn’t even worthy of a few life-saving vials of medicine. It was pathetic. As I was typing a message to the boutique, Jeff posted on his social media: The most expensive bag for the one I love most. Tonight is ours. Sophia’s post followed moments later: My knight said he’ll always be by his princess’s side. Your medicine didn’t just save my family, it saved my heart. The picture was of the two of them, nestled together intimately. Sophia was holding up a vial of antivenom, my handbag slung over her shoulder, a triumphant smile on her face. Rage burned through me. I almost fainted. Jeff was a heartless bastard, willing to spend a fortune to worship Sophia while his own family lay dying. The emergency room doors opened, and the doctor walked out. “Please, just give me a little more time,” I begged. “I’ll get the medicine here as fast as I can.” The doctor shook his head and removed his mask. “It’s too late. The patients no longer have vital signs. I’m so sorry for your loss.” My eyes stung with tears. My heart ached with a profound, bitter sorrow. Just two hours ago, they had been laughing and talking. Now, they were five cold bodies, while their own son was out celebrating with another woman. He was worse than an animal. Fighting back tears, I sent a message to the boutique. I haven’t been to the store recently. The bag must have been picked up by someone else. Please report it to the police. The doctor had mentioned that the snake that bit them was almost extinct in this country, which was why the hospital had no antivenom. It was all too convenient. A rare, venomous snake, found in my in-laws’ tent. Five people dead. The police took the case very seriously. They quickly discovered that someone had purchased a large number of venomous snakes online and released them into the wild. The suspects? Sophia’s parents. The very people Jeff had rushed to save were the ones who had murdered his entire family. I hoped he wouldn’t cry too hard when he found out the truth. An officer explained the situation to me. “Ma’am, we understand the circumstances. However, the two suspects are currently in the hospital themselves. We can’t bring them in for questioning just yet.” My face was a blank mask. “They were also bitten by the snakes,” I said. “But the poison has been neutralized. There’s nothing stopping you from questioning them now.” The officer gave me a strange look, clearly wondering how I knew this. But seeing my distraught state, he didn’t press the issue. “Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this and bring you justice.” After the police left, I opened my phone and began filing a lawsuit. A sudden phone call interrupted me. It was Jeff, his voice laced with fury. “Thea, are you trying to start trouble? I’m your husband! Can’t I pick up a bag for you? And you called the cops? Did the snake bite you, too? Did it poison your brain?” His accusations were a relentless barrage, with no regard for what I was going through. “No, it’s not okay,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “Because I never saw the bag. You said you picked it up for me. Fine. Where is it now?” Jeff fell silent. After a long pause, his tone softened. “We’re husband and wife, Thea. Why do you have to be so difficult? It’s marital property.” “Sophia wanted a limited-edition bag, and this was the only one available in the country. It was her birthday. I just wanted to make her happy.” “It looks so perfect on her. It’s better to give than to receive, you know. Just let it go.” The man had no shame. “How can you even say that?” I snapped. “Why don’t you use your own money to buy her gifts? You useless piece of trash!” Jeff was stunned. “You… you’re talking to me like that? Are you insane?” I used to be so careful with his fragile ego, always watching my words. Looking back, I realized his skin was thicker than a castle wall. I didn’t want to fight with him. Not now. “If you have a shred of humanity left,” I said, my voice sharp, “you’ll get your ass down to the hospital morgue and see what your stupidity has wrought.” “They’re already dead! What’s the point of me going? It’s not like they’ll come back to life! Don’t ruin a perfectly good night for me!” he roared. Then he added, “Don’t cremate your parents’ bodies. See if you can send them to my company to be used as cadavers.” “Sophia’s parents are in trouble. She’s a wreck. I need to be with her.” He hung up. I started to laugh. He actually thought my entire family was dead. I had planned to give his parents a quick, quiet burial. Now, I ordered five industrial-sized freezers. Just as Jeff wished, I had his entire family moved from the morgue, freezers and all, and sent them by cargo van to his company.

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The day my husband’s plane crashed into the sea, I broke down. I followed him into the waves, ready to die. It was only after they pulled me from the water that I remembered it was April Fool’s Day. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard the teasing voice of his mistress. “Oh, darling, your wife is just madly in love with you,” she purred. “Can you imagine how she’d freak out if she knew you were just messing with her?” He chuckled. “Freak out? Please. After giving birth, Nora’s become tamer than a rabbit. Just make sure none of you let this slip. This is the last time I need to test her love for me.” A wave of laughter followed, along with promises to keep the secret. Lying on the stretcher, I found I had no more tears to cry. What my husband, John, didn’t know was that this was also the last chance I was giving him. From that moment on, my love for him flatlined. 1 I woke up in a hospital room. A perfectly peeled apple sat on the bedside table. In the past, whenever I was sick, John never showed his face. He’d just send his assistant with a pile of expensive supplements. Seeing my blank expression, he picked up a slice of apple and held it to my lips. “So happy to see I’m not dead you’re speechless?” I turned my head, my eyes catching a faint love bite on his neck. My voice was calm, eerily so. “John, let’s get a divorce.” His hand froze. He popped the apple slice into his own mouth, crunching it loudly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Then he made a call right in front of me. Soon, his assistant brought our son, Leo. In the few months since I’d last seen him, he’d shot up in height. But he was still a stranger to me. I’d barely finished nursing Leo when John’s grandfather took him away. I was only allowed to see him during holiday dinners at the family estate. I knew why John had brought him. In the past, whenever he’d taken his fun a little too far, and I’d given him the silent treatment, he’d send our son to placate me. I’d lost count of how many times he’d used that trick. But that trump card was no longer my weakness. Seeing Leo, who had grown a little chubby, sparked no joy in me. He frowned, a perfect miniature of his father. Even the way he said my name carried John’s dismissive tone. “Nora, you’re still so boring. Dad, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and have Miss Lily play with me…” Miss Lily? No wonder he never called me “Mom.” He already had a replacement. John’s eyes narrowed. Leo immediately clammed up and tried to crawl into my arms. “Daddy’s being mean to me!” I would have always defended him before. But this time, I pushed him away. “Go cry to your Miss Lily.” Two identical faces, one large and one small, stared at me in shock. I pressed on. “John, I’m serious about the divorce. This isn’t a joke.” A flash of anger crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by a sneer. “Nora, if you play hard to get for too long, it’s not going to end well. Piss me off, and you’ll never see your son again.” So that was it. He thought this was another one of my tactics. I remembered last year, when news broke that he’d sent some starlet to the hospital with serious internal injuries. I’d demanded a divorce then, too. He’d locked me in a room for six months, refusing to let me see Leo. That’s when I finally learned my lesson. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t love him anymore. “John, after I’m discharged, I’m moving out.” I said it again, my voice firm, my gaze locked on his. Sensing I wasn’t playing games, his expression turned grave. “You want a divorce? You’ll have to earn it.” Only after he left with Leo did I pick up my phone and text a number I didn’t have saved. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll leave after the dance competition next week.” After leaving the hospital, I went back to the villa to pack a small bag before heading to the dance studio. Now that I had made my decision, I wanted no more entanglements with John. 2 When I walked into the studio, everyone stared at me with an unreadable expression. A colleague pulled me into a corner, her voice low with concern. “Nora, what did you do to tick off Mrs. Sterling? She not only stole your spot in the competition, but she also had the director fire you.” Mrs. Sterling? I followed her gaze to the center of the stage. There stood Lily, dripping in gold and diamonds, looking every bit the pampered mistress. I’d almost forgotten that she paraded around the studio calling herself “Mrs. Sterling.” Right now, she was basking in the admiring glances of the other dancers. Then she saw me in the shadows. “Oh, Nora,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “I’m so sorry. I guess my dancing is just a better fit for the competition. That’s why the director gave the only spot to me.” I didn’t care what games she played before, but this competition was important to me. I wasn’t about to let her have it. “Lily, what level is your dancing at, exactly? The level where you perform for men in private rooms? And while we’re at it, why don’t you tell everyone who you really are?” She had started as a small-time influencer, a livestreamer showing off her “talents.” She’d only gotten into this prestigious studio because of John. She used to be meek as a mouse around me. The fact that she dared to challenge me now was the last straw. Lily’s face flushed crimson. She was speechless, tears welling in her eyes. Just then, a hand snaked around her waist. John. He looked at me, his eyes radiating pressure. “And who are you to question her?” My lips moved, but the words were bitter in my throat. His mother had died because of me. Nine years of marriage, even giving him a son—it wasn’t enough to repay that debt. He’d once grabbed me by the throat, drunk and furious, and snarled, “Nora, you married into this family to atone for your sins, not to enjoy a life of luxury. Don’t you ever forget your place!” Seeing me lost in thought, John leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Nora, if you want to keep this job, you will move back home.” That’s when I understood. He was the “director” Lily had been talking about. He’d given my spot to her and then threatened the studio owner to fire me. He was trying to break me, to force me to take back my words about the divorce. When I didn’t react, a cold smile twisted his lips. “Feeling bold now, are we? Think you can fly away from my control? I’ll just have to break your wings. Then let’s see… how… you… fly.” He made a quick call. A moment later, a text came from my best friend. “Nora, I think I pissed someone off. I just got promoted last month, and my boss just called me in and said they’re letting me go…” My lips pressed into a thin line. I went to gather my things. As I was leaving, I heard Lily’s mocking voice behind me. “See, Nora? You’re just like me, dependent on a man. And here I thought you had some backbone.” My hand, clutching the handle of my suitcase, tightened. I shot back, “Have you forgotten? We’re not divorced yet. He’s still my husband.” Suddenly, John’s hand clamped down on my arm, his grip like iron. “Nora, who gave you the nerve to bully Lily right in front of me? And have you forgotten everything I’ve warned you about?” A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. In all our years of marriage, he had never publicly acknowledged me as his wife. People knew he was married, but they also knew he was never short of beautiful women on his arm. If I couldn’t compete, then there was no reason to wait another week. The thought brought a small measure of relief. Before returning to the villa, I stopped by a law firm and printed out a divorce agreement. I sent another text to that same number. “Don’t need to wait a week. I’m leaving in two days.” 3 Back at the villa, I sat on the sofa, lost in a daze. John came home unusually early. He stood in the entryway, his eyes meeting mine. It was like seeing a ghost of my former self. The wife who would sit in the living room, waiting late into the night for her husband to return. The wife who would smile and rush to help him with his coat and shoes. “Honey, are you tired? I learned a new massage technique, would you like…” For years, when I wasn’t teaching dance, my life had revolved around him. An endless cycle that never earned me so much as a kind glance. Now, stepping back and looking at it all from a distance, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Seeing my lack of reaction, John frowned. “What are you thinking about? Running away?” I almost laughed. “And if I was? What would you do?” He walked toward me, then suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, deftly changing the subject. “You don’t like our son. Let’s have a daughter. A daughter would be quieter. She could keep you company. It would make your life here easier.” When I first married into the family, the staff saw how indifferent John was to me. Combined with my quiet nature, they treated me like dirt, dumping all the hardest chores on me. I had been so in love with him then, I never complained. He saw my predicament, but he just watched, a cold, detached observer. My thoughts snapped back to the present as he pulled down my nightgown. His kisses fell on my skin. Fierce and dominating, with a punishing edge. But no matter what he did, I felt nothing. I realized then that when you don’t love someone, your body doesn’t respond. Losing interest, John got off me. “Nora, I know your body. This isn’t how you should be reacting.” He tilted my chin up, his eyes scrutinizing me. “Tell me. Have you been with another man?” John played around, but he was a possessive hypocrite. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching a woman he’d slept with. A security guard at the studio once complimented my dancing. John saw it. The guard was fired the same day. I bit my lip, a bitter laugh escaping through the humiliation. “Yes. It’s exactly what you think. I’ve slept with every man at the studio. Are you going to have them all arrested?” John’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning husky. “Is that so?” Suddenly, he swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. He actually believed me. “If you’re dirty, then we’ll just have to wash you clean.” He threw me into the bathtub and turned the showerhead on my face, drenching me in ice-cold water. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I struggled, but I couldn’t break his grip. The shock of the cold water triggered my PTSD. The image of my parents’ plane crashing when I was thirteen flooded my mind. I trembled, curling into a ball in the corner. John thought I was faking it. “Nora, don’t forget why you married me. You’re here to atone, not to live in luxury!” There it was again. The same line he’d repeated countless times. Our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nine out of ten things he said to me were laced with malice. Seeing my eyes glaze over, my body lurching toward the wall, John finally panicked. He pulled me out and laid me on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to you…” “John, you’ve tormented me enough over the years. Let’s just let each other go!” Rage consumed me. I grabbed the divorce agreement from the nightstand and threw it in his face. He stared at the signature line, then snorted. “In such a rush to divorce me. You have another man waiting, don’t you?” I said nothing. He slammed the door on his way out. Tears streamed down my face. But it was alright. After tomorrow, I would be free. 4 The next day, John sent me a text. “If you want my signature, come to the Hilton. Suite 708. I’ve had the staff prepare an outfit for you.” It was a modern cheongsam, tailored to accentuate my slender waist and shoulders. I pushed open the door to the suite and was met by a wall of noise and a crowd of leering faces. Lily’s smile was particularly blinding. “Oh, Nora. Mr. Parkinson wanted to see someone dance, but I sprained my ankle. I’ll have to trouble you.” A man’s eyes devoured me, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. So this was John’s plan. To have me dance in Lily’s place. “Nora, you want a divorce, don’t you?” John’s voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Fine. I’ll grant your wish. As soon as you’ve danced to his satisfaction, I’ll sign the papers.” He then pushed me toward Mr. Parkinson. Mr. Parkinson’s arm wrapped around my waist, his eyes glazed with desire. “They say a dancer’s waist is a thing of beauty, and today I see it’s true. Don’t worry, I promised John. I’ll just get a little feel, I won’t do anything to you. You just dance for me tonight until I’m happy, and I’ll agree to contract with Sterling Corp for the next six months.” I stared at John in disbelief. Everyone in their circle knew about Mr. Parkinson’s… obsession. He couldn’t control himself around a woman with a slender waist. A client had once gifted him such a woman; she’d ended up in the hospital with a broken back. I tore myself from Mr. Parkinson’s grasp and tried to run, but John caught me before I could get far. “Nora, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a touch. It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip.” So, this was the price of my freedom.

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