Category: English

After my husband’s affair, I gave him and his mother a taste of their own medicine—They threw the first punch, after all. 1 In the two months before I discovered his infidelity, Mark, who never cared for grooming, began secretly spraying cologne. A woman’s innate intuition told me he might be having an affair. Just a week prior, he had come home utterly intoxicated. I watched him, insensible with drink, and quickly helped him to bed, then brewed him a sobering broth. It was then that his phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared on the display: [I’m pregnant, Mark! You’re going to be a father! Aren’t you happy?] I unlocked his phone. A torrent of explicit messages and brazen flirtations unfurled before my eyes. I couldn’t believe these words, exchanged with another woman, came from Mark—the husband who had shared my life, who supposedly cherished our child, our home, and me. My hands trembled as I held the phone, reading each piercing word. Tears streamed from my eyes, large drops splattering onto the screen. I clapped a hand over my mouth, terrified my sobs would awaken Mark. I couldn’t fathom that the husband who, to outsiders, appeared utterly devoted and loving, was in fact this kind of man. Finally, I understood why Mark, who had once adored me, had recently grown so critical, his eyes betraying faint disdain and disgust. He had, it seemed, already found a cherished paramour outside our home! I forcefully wiped away my tears, took a deep breath, and compelled myself to calm down quickly. Then, I pulled out my own phone, saving their chat logs, as well as the mistress’s personal information and address. Afterward, I placed Mark’s phone back where it belonged, pretending as if nothing had happened. The next morning, Mark, as usual, sprayed his cologne, preparing to leave for work. I stood by the doorway, holding our son, and asked him: “Will you be home for dinner tonight?” Mark lowered his head, continuing to put on his shoes. He remained silent for a moment. I pressed on: “Tonight’s our son’s birthday. Please come home for dinner!” Mark finally straightened up, merely grunting, “Hm,” without turning, and then left. I watched Mark’s retreating back, my heart turning to ice. That evening, the table was laden with an array of exquisite dishes. Mark sat at the table, holding our son, clapping and singing “Happy Birthday.” I raised the wine glass before me, observing this charade of a devoted father. Mark glanced at me, his face showing impatience, and urged me to begin the meal. “All you’re good for is cooking. And your looks are mediocre at best. Now, after childbirth, you’ve gotten fat and even uglier. You can’t even earn a penny. Tell me, what use are you?” Mark’s words stunned me so completely that I couldn’t react for a long moment. I couldn’t believe those words had come from his mouth. Every past memory, every tender moment, now felt like a performance. At this moment, I finally erupted! I slammed the glass onto the table, pointing at Mark’s nose. “Regretting it now? Did you feed your eyes to the dogs back then?” “Evelyn, please understand your place. Don’t bark orders at me, and certainly don’t point your finger! You’re no longer the pampered lady you once were! If it weren’t for me, you’d be out on the streets, scraping for scraps. This house? Only my word counts here! You do what I say. Otherwise, you can get out!” “Mark, have you forgotten something? This is my house! My parents bought this property for me! What right do you have to tell me to get out?!” “Yours? What do you mean ‘yours’?! Don’t forget, when your family went bankrupt, it was my money that bailed you out! Now you can’t pay it back, so the house is collateral! If it weren’t for you giving the Thorne family a healthy son, I’d have thrown you out long ago!” “You’re utterly shameless! What do you mean ‘your money’? That was my dowry from my parents! After we married, you clung to me like a leech, starving yourself for three days, subtly coercing me into entrusting the money to you! Now it’s ‘your’ money again? You want us to repay a debt, do you? No chance!” Mark’s words at that moment made me want to tear him apart. I had never imagined he could be this kind of person, completely unlike the Mark I once knew. The man before me was utterly despicable and cruel! Mark was about to continue arguing with me, but our son’s frightened cries interrupted him. I quickly snatched our son from his arms, soothing him as I turned and entered the nursery. Looking at my sleeping son in my arms, an idea suddenly sparked in my mind! I would divorce Mark, and I would repay all the hurt and pain he had inflicted on me tenfold, hundredfold, a thousandfold! I would make him suffer dearly! Every night, Mark habitually ate an apple before sleeping. So, under the pretense of slicing his apple, I also prepared a bowl of warm porridge. This was no ordinary porridge; it was a special blend I had concocted. Upon entering the master bedroom, I feigned an apology to Mark, humbling myself and flattering him in various ways. Under my coaxing, he finished the specially prepared porridge. After eating, Mark contentedly licked the corners of his lips, praising my cooking profusely, and asking me to prepare a separate bowl for him every morning. 2 And so, following Mark’s request, I prepared a bowl of my ‘special’ porridge for him every morning. However, beneath my outwardly amiable and gentle demeanor, my plan was unfolding. After Mark left for work, I took our son to my parents’ home. I recounted everything that had happened recently to my mother, Martha. Martha said nothing, but turned into the kitchen, retrieved a packet of fox nuts and water chestnuts, and handed them to me. She said: “Since he’s so fond of other women, you, as his wife, mustn’t be ignorant. It’s just a man; let her have him. Remember, when you go home, don’t argue with him. Just brew these fox nuts and water chestnuts into a broth for him. It will help him ‘strengthen his constitution.’” With that, Martha firmly patted my hand several times, deliberately emphasizing the words “strengthen his constitution.” I understood her subtle meaning and accepted the fox nuts and water chestnuts. After lunch, I left my son at my parents’ house and took a carriage alone to a Muay Thai training hall far from home. That’s right, I enrolled in Muay Thai. Like Mark, I also needed to ‘strengthen my constitution,’ just in a different way. Every day, I shuttled between my home, my parents’ house, and the Muay Thai hall. And I never forgot to prepare the fox nut and water chestnut broth for Mark every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. One day, as I passed by the study, I heard Mark on the phone with his mother, Agnes. He was saying that his mistress was four months pregnant, and he wanted Agnes to come to the city to care for his future daughter-in-law. He also asked Agnes to hold onto the deed to the house for him. On the other end of the line, Agnes’s voice immediately rose several octaves upon hearing “house deed.” She happily agreed. I peered through the crack in the door, seeing Mark about to exit the study. I pretended to be just passing by. Mark saw me approaching and called out. “What is it?! Something wrong?” I asked. “My mother is coming to stay in the city for a while. You can go stay at your parents’ house then!” I looked at him with utter bewilderment. He must have thought I hadn’t understood, so he repeated himself. Before he could finish, I snapped at him loudly, “Why should I go back to my parents’ house? Your mother can come if she wants. Is she some blushing maiden who can’t be seen? This house is enormous, with so many rooms; isn’t that enough for just her? Does she need me to move out too? Is she an octopus, needing a room for each leg?!” I no longer spoke to him with my former meekness. “Oh, what way is that to speak?! I just thought you two wouldn’t get along, alright? What if I go to work and you two start fighting at home?!” “I’m not insane. As long as she doesn’t cause trouble, I won’t do anything to her!” Seeing that I was being difficult, Mark found himself with no recourse and had to let me have my way. Two days later, Agnes, Mark’s mother, arrived at our house, laden with heavy bags, looking travel-worn. The moment she stepped inside, she tried to assert her dominance. Agnes stood at the doorway, extending her dust-laden shoe, subtly indicating that I should bend down to remove it for her. I pointed to the slippers on the floor and said: “Mother-in-law, the slippers are right there. You can change into them yourself.” “I’m old, I can’t bend down.” “Old? Then why are you carrying such heavy bags all the way from the village?” Agnes was momentarily speechless, choked by my retort. I quickly added more fuel to the fire: “If you can’t even bend down to put on shoes, I wonder what Mark was thinking, asking you to come help with the child. I’ll have to speak with him later; he’s truly unfilial!” “Nonsense!” Agnes was flustered, quickly coming to her son’s defense. “Mark… Mark is not unfilial? Mark is the most filial and accomplished child in our village! My Mark, he is the most devoted to me! He promised to buy a grand house and bring me here to live, and hasn’t he done just that?!” The moment she mentioned the house, I immediately flared up. “Mother-in-law, please understand that this house was bought by my parents for me. Mark’s name was added as a mere formality. Under current law, Mark didn’t contribute a single penny; this house has absolutely nothing to do with him.” “How can it have nothing to do with him? What do you, a woman, know! What’s yours is my Mark’s! Husband and wife shouldn’t differentiate between ‘yours’ and ‘mine.’ Besides, what does a woman need so many houses for? In our village, a woman’s words don’t count for much. At home, everything must be decided by the man.” “Yes, Mother-in-law. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Elder Mr. Davies’s house in our village and tell him to marry you quickly! That way, you won’t feel like your words don’t count for much in the village anymore, and you’ll have a man at home to keep you in line.” I retaliated with biting sarcasm. Elder Mr. Davies was an old bachelor in Mark’s village. Ever since Mark’s father passed away, The two of them had often exchanged suggestive glances. Elder Mr. Davies would frequently come under the guise of bringing food to the “widow and orphan,” but secretly, he and Agnes had started an affair. When Mark found out, he chased Elder Mr. Davies for miles with a knife, intent on harming him. After that incident, Elder Mr. Davies never dared to associate with Agnes again. This was a piece of gossip I had overheard when I last returned to Mark’s village. Agnes, after hearing my words, seemed to recall something. She glared at me, and in an instant, her face turned crimson with embarrassment. 3 One day, when I returned from the Muay Thai training hall, I heard sounds of pleasure emanating from the bedroom. I tiptoed to the bedroom door, pressing the doorknob, and quietly opened the door a crack. Peering through the gap, I saw two naked bodies entwined. It was Mark and a woman with long, curly hair, both stark naked, engaged in unspeakable acts. Watching the two of them performing such lewd acts on the bed, I trembled with rage. Just as I was about to burst in and slap them both silly, I remembered my mother’s recent advice: always have evidence. With irrefutable proof, he wouldn’t be able to deny it! I suppressed my disgust, pulled out my phone, and began recording the shameless pair, securing my evidence. Just then, the woman on the bed suddenly asked in a sickeningly sweet voice: “Darling, what’s wrong now? Why are you not performing? You used to last at least half an hour, and now you can’t even make it twenty minutes! Tell me, are you seeing other women while I’m not looking?” “Oh, my little darling, how could I dare mess around behind your back! You’re pregnant now, aren’t you? We have to be careful for the baby’s sake!” “Hmph! Even if I gave you ten times the courage, you wouldn’t dare mess around behind my back! And, have you found that woman’s house deed? You promised me that after I joined you, you’d move me into a house even bigger than this one. Don’t tell me that when the baby’s born, we’ll not only lack a big house, but you’ll make my child and me sleep on the streets!” “Don’t you worry! My little darling, tomorrow I’ll make my mother force her to hand over the house deed. I refuse to believe I can’t handle that old hag!” Hearing Mark and his mistress’s conversation, I finally fully understood that for all these years, he had married me solely for my family’s fortune. Now that my family was bankrupt, he was setting his sights on this house. This house was bought by my parents for me when Mark and I got engaged. At the time, it cost over 400,000 Crowns. Its location was excellent, and if sold now, it would be worth at least 800,000 Crowns. I closed the door, then turned and rushed straight to the attic, where I found the house deed. Mark would never in a million years guess I’d put the deed in the attic. Before the wedding, my mother had warned me to be clever in all things, saying Mark was no easy man to deal with. At the time, I foolishly believed Mark loved me, and that once married, there would be no secrets between us. But fortune is fickle, and I was too naive back then. I never imagined Mark would cheat. Ever since I found out about his infidelity, I became more cautious and secretly hid the house deed in the attic. I took the house deed back to my parents’ home and gave it to my mother, Martha, who hid it in the most secure place in our house. Three days later, I was hanging clothes on the balcony. Agnes, Mark’s mother, approached me with a fawning expression, calling, “Daughter-in-law, daughter-in-law.” I glanced at her, asking coldly, “What is it? Why so affectionate? Our relationship isn’t usually this warm, is it?” “Oh, look at you! We’re family now, what’s all this about good or bad relationships?” “Do you need something?” Agnes pretended to smooth a sheet I had just hung, then said, “Oh, your mother-in-law doesn’t have much to say, just wanted to ask you, you’ve been married to my son for so long, who manages the money?” “Why do you ask?” “No reason, Mother-in-law was just asking. I was chatting with the ladies in the neighborhood, and they said women in the city manage the money, don’t they? So you manage Mark’s money too?” “Not at all. I’m not as fortunate as them. I can’t manage your son’s meager funds.” Hearing this, Agnes’s face grew even more smug. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said: “Actually, your mother-in-law has wanted to say this for a long time. It seems you have some self-awareness. I also think you’re unlucky. Your family went bankrupt just a few years after you married. Your parents should have had a son back then, why a daughter? She’ll just be a money-losing commodity when she marries! Look how lucky my son is! He’s a general manager at a young age, and lives in such a grand house!” “Your son is lucky, but whether he can afford such a grand house depends entirely on the blessing of this ‘money-losing commodity’! Otherwise, for a country boy like him, he’d work his whole life and never afford such a grand house!” “You…” Agnes, furious, was about to retort, when she suddenly remembered something and instantly changed her demeanor. “Yes, yes, Evelyn, you’re right. My Mark owes all his success today to your blessing. If it weren’t for you, my Mark wouldn’t even have a wife by now.” “Mother-in-law, just say what you want directly! No need for all these twists and turns, beating around the bush.” “Then your mother-in-law will be direct, alright? It’s about the house deed, you have it, don’t you?” “Yes, I do! What about it?” “It’s nothing much, just that I see you work hard with the child. Such a valuable thing as a house deed should be entrusted to your mother-in-law for safekeeping!” “What? Did I hear that right! Mother-in-law! Why should I entrust the house deed to you! You didn’t pay for the house, and besides, wouldn’t it be safer somewhere else than in your hands?!” “Hmph, what way is that to speak, girl! You’re refusing a toast and asking for a penalty, are you? Since you married into our family, you must obey your in-laws, obey your man! Your man is your sky! And you dare not defy the sky, or you will be struck by lightning!” “Oh, so I married into your family to suffer tribulation, did I? And be struck by lightning? If your son is so powerful, tell him to try and strike me down!” Agnes’s face turned beet red with rage. She grabbed the clothes hanger, intending to strike me, muttering furiously, “You little wretch, are you rebelling now? If you upset me, tomorrow I’ll tell Mark to divorce you!” “Divorce then! Divorce! If we divorce, this house won’t have a single penny to do with him! Go ahead and hit me. After you’re done, I’ll immediately get a medical report and call the Royal Bailiff to have you arrested, and you can rot in jail for life!” Agnes flinched when she heard me threaten to call the authorities. She immediately stopped her movements. She certainly didn’t want to end up in the jailhouse just for trying to get a house deed. She quickly forced a yellow-toothed smile and said, “Mother-in-law was just scaring you, dear. How could I ever hit you! Look how precious you city girls are, a mere scare and you want to send your mother-in-law to jail! If people in our village found out, wouldn’t they laugh at the wife our old Thorne family married?!” “Good that you know. This is a lawful society now, not your village where you can just hit people as you please. Hitting someone will cost you money and a jail sentence!” I glared at Agnes, snatched the clothes hanger, and turned to leave. 4 That evening, Mark called to say he wouldn’t be back for dinner; he was meeting with a client. I simply said, “Oh,” and hung up. After dinner, I received a call from Lady Eleanor, inviting me to a tavern. I left my son with Agnes, changed my clothes, and went out. Upon arriving at the tavern, I spotted a man whose back resembled Mark’s. I quietly approached and, indeed, it was him! He stood near the entrance, chatting merrily with a few other men. I trailed them. After watching them enter a private room, I discreetly noted the room number. Half an hour later, estimating the time, I found an excuse to tell Lady Eleanor I needed to step out for a moment. When I reached Mark’s private room, I pushed open a crack in the door, observing the suggestive atmosphere inside. A woman was wrapped around Mark’s neck, sitting on his lap, her hands roving over his body. In a short while, the woman and Mark were openly engaged in intimate acts in front of everyone. Seeing this, the others in the room also followed suit. I pulled out my phone and recorded the entire scene. “Hello! Is this the Royal Bailiff? I want to report a public disturbance at The Golden Bell Tavern, room number 111. There’s an illicit gathering in progress.” I hid in the darkest corner of the stairwell, watching as the Royal Bailiff burst into the room and took Mark and the others away. I handed a tip to a tavern servant, asking him to call the mistress and inform her to collect him from the precinct.

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My husband’s long-lost love was finally getting married. To make her regret leaving him, he abandoned Blackwood Manor and me, volunteering to serve in the desolate Frostbourne Marches. I wrote ninety-nine letters, each sent with a flicker of hope, but not a single reply ever came. By the third year, I had stopped writing. I was on my daybed, elegantly sipping the rich, restorative swallow’s nest soup sent from the royal kitchens, when the door creaked open. Then, suddenly, General Godfrey returned. His gaze, cold and hard as flint, landed on my six-month pregnant belly. His teeth clenched, the sound almost audible. “Three years of marriage, Evelyn, and you never once thought to visit me at the border. Whose child is that you’re carrying?” I merely shrugged, a faint, almost dismissive smile playing on my lips. “If you refuse to treat your wife with proper regard, Godfrey, then surely someone else will step up to the task, won’t they?” … Godfrey’s hand shot out, a blur of motion, yanking me roughly from the daybed. His eyes, usually a steely blue, were now hawk-like, brimming with a chilling, murderous intent. “You harlot! I leave for a mere three years, and you can’t even contain your wanton desires? You dared to get yourself pregnant!” His voice rose to a furious roar. “Tell me now, who is the scoundrel? The father of this bastard child?!” The delicate porcelain bowl of swallow’s nest soup slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the polished stone floor with a sharp, sickening crack. Just then, Lady Beatrice, Godfrey’s mother, rushed into the room, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of Godfrey’s iron grip on my arm. “Godfrey, stop! Don’t touch her! She’s carrying…” Her words were cut short by Godfrey’s enraged bellow, echoing through the manor. “Evelyn! I’m asking you a question!” My eardrums throbbed with the sheer volume, and a slow, simmering rage began to boil within me. I yanked my arm free, my voice tight with indignation. “You abandoned me for three whole years, Godfrey! You left me with a crumbling estate, bleeding money, and vanished without a trace! According to the old statutes of abandonment, a husband who forsakes his home for a year without cause allows for annulment. You and I are no longer bound as husband and wife!” Godfrey’s face flushed a mottled crimson, his anger a visible, suffocating cloud around him. Without another word, he seized my arm again, dragging me relentlessly towards the door. “You dare to lie, you adulteress? You dare to accuse me after defiling my name? I’ll drag you into the streets right now and let the good people of Aethelburg see what kind of depraved woman you truly are!” Weakened by my pregnancy, I was no match for his strength. I struggled, but it was futile. Lady Beatrice, her eyes welling with tears, rushed forward, trying to block our path. “Son, please, listen to your mother! Let go of Evelyn, immediately…” But her plea only seemed to fuel Godfrey’s fury. He roared, his hand lashing out in a brutal, open-handed slap across my face. My head snapped back, a sharp sting exploding across my cheek, and the coppery taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. His voice, thick with menace, thundered in my ears. “You’d even corrupt my own mother? Force her to defend your debauchery in her old age? Today, I will personally deal with you, you wretched creature!” Lady Beatrice froze, her body rigid with terror, not daring to take another step. She feared that her continued intervention would only incite Godfrey to greater violence, and if the child were harmed, how would she ever forgive herself, or him? I was dragged, raw and bleeding, to the grand gates of Blackwood Manor. There, standing poised and pristine in a gown of pure white, was the woman Godfrey had pined for: Aveline. Three years ago, when Godfrey had left, she too had vanished without a trace. Now, it was chillingly clear where she had been – playing the devoted wife at the border. Seeing my humiliated state, Aveline couldn’t suppress a mocking snicker, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “Well, isn’t this convenient? You’ve proven yourself so utterly depraved, Evelyn. It seems I won’t have to lift a finger to make my case.” Before I could utter a single word, Godfrey shoved me forward, directly into the gawking crowd of townspeople. He bellowed, his voice carrying far and wide, “Evelyn! I acknowledge you guarded this manor for three years. So, I’ll offer you a choice: humble yourself, become a mistress, and yield your place as Lady of Blackwood Manor to Aveline. I will grant you a corner to live out your days!” His eyes gleamed with a chilling satisfaction. “Otherwise…” Godfrey sneered, a cold, ruthless smile stretching his lips, and drew the heavy, battle-scarred sword from his scabbard. “Otherwise, I will cut down this harlot right here, right now!” His words struck me with a bitter, hollow irony. I remembered his parting promise, three years ago – that upon his return, with military honors, he would help my mother secure justice. That promise, a flimsy thread of hope, was why I had endured the snickers and whispers of Aethelburg, why I had poured my entire dowry into propping up Blackwood Manor. Yet, my mother had wasted away, tormented by my father’s mistress, and he had never returned. No wonder he hadn’t immediately executed me in the house; he feared public backlash. He wanted me to yield my position myself. The servants and townspeople buzzed with gossip. “I knew it! The General hasn’t been home in years, how could the Lady be with child?” “And Lady Beatrice has been caring for her so diligently, I almost thought—” “Enough!” Lady Beatrice, unable to bear it any longer, suddenly burst through the crowd. She rushed to my side, supporting me, her brow furrowed in a fierce scowl directed at Aveline. “I know whose child Evelyn carries, better than anyone! And this child is no bastard!” Godfrey looked at his mother, baffled. “Mother, this harlot never sought me out at the border! How could it possibly be my child?” Lady Beatrice stood firm, her voice ringing with conviction. “This child is legitimate! Anyone who dares to utter another word will face the stocks!” Aveline clutched Godfrey’s sleeve, her voice trembling with feigned sobs. “Oh, Godfrey, surely your mother has been deceived! What mother would condone her daughter-in-law’s infidelity? I heard whispers of certain potions, substances that control minds… Lady Beatrice’s face looks so much paler than before. Could it be…?” Godfrey’s hands clenched into fists, his rage suddenly redirected. He spun, pulling his sword again. “Evelyn, you seek death!” I retorted, my voice hoarse, “Lady Beatrice is frail and pale, Godfrey, because of you! How could you not know the anguish your own mother suffered, son, when you vanished for three years without a single word?” Godfrey was about to speak, when Aveline suddenly shoved me with surprising force. “You venomous hag! How dare you slander Godfrey, your own husband?!” A searing pain exploded at the back of my head. My vision instantly blurred, swimming with black spots. The heavy iron door-studs of the manor gate gouged a deep wound into my scalp, leaving a dark, rapidly spreading stain of blood on the stone. My strength evaporated, and I collapsed to the ground, a sharp, twisting pain erupting in my lower abdomen. Lady Beatrice let out a piercing shriek. “Call for the Royal Physician, quickly!” Several maids and retainers moved to obey, but Godfrey’s guards immediately blocked their path. Seeing this, Lady Beatrice bellowed, “Are you truly defying your own mother’s command now, Godfrey?!” Aveline sneered, utterly merciless. “The Royal Physician attends only to the nobility within the palace walls! Do you truly believe a harlot like this could ever command such a presence?” Godfrey’s voice was low and dangerous. “Guards! Protect my mother! Do not let her be swayed by this villainess’s deceit!” At his words, a burly soldier, easily eight feet tall, seized Lady Beatrice. She stared at him, incredulous. “I am your mother!” She struggled, twisting against his grip, but the soldier simply twisted her arm, forcing it back. Lady Beatrice cried out in agony, but Godfrey remained unmoved, his face a mask of cold indifference. “Godfrey, have you gone mad?!” I cried out, struggling to push myself up, my hands protectively cupped over my belly. “If you don’t want to die, then release us immediately! This child… this child is not one you can afford to harm!” Godfrey said nothing. He simply drew a long, vicious-looking whip from his belt. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he brought it down, the air whistling with the brutal force of it. A searing, fiery pain exploded across my knees. I crashed heavily to the ground, the raw wounds on my knees instantly grinding into the dirty cobblestones, the pain biting deep into my very bones. Godfrey’s voice rang out, clear and resonant. “Such a wanton woman in Blackwood Manor! I, Godfrey, must impose the strictest family law!” He smirked, his eyes devoid of mercy. “Evelyn, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. If you refuse to cast out this bastard, then I will do it myself!” I ignored the fresh blood soaking my knees, my only thought to protect my child. “What are you doing…?” Godfrey advanced, step by deliberate step. “The whip, of course! A hundred lashes for your infidelity, for your poisoning of my mother’s mind! Today, I will make an example of you before everyone!” My breath hitched in my throat. My eyes instinctively darted to the brutal length of the whip in his hand. That whip had ridden with Godfrey into countless battles; it was stained with the blood of countless enemies. A single strike could mean my death. What then of the child within me? Amidst the jeers and calls for punishment from the crowd, Godfrey raised the whip again. It descended with terrifying speed. I could only curl inward, protecting my belly with my arms, squeezing my eyes shut. The pain, however, never came. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. A Shadow Guard stood directly in front of me, his hand clamped firmly around the whip, halting its deadly descent. “General,” the Shadow Guard said, his voice calm, “Lady Evelyn is in a delicate state. You cannot harm her. I urge you to reconsider.” It was the first time anyone had dared to defy Godfrey, to intercept his wrath. His eyes narrowed, sizing up the guard. “Who are you? What business is it of yours to interfere with how I discipline my wife?” The Shadow Guard remained unyielding. “If the General wishes to know the full truth, he must first move this conversation elsewhere—” The next second, Godfrey sneered, yanking his whip free and lashing out at the Shadow Guard. “I’d like to see who dares to covet what belongs to my General!” The Shadow Guard reacted too slowly. The whip tore across half his face, ripping skin and flesh apart. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving. The more timid onlookers shrieked in unison. Lady Beatrice, witnessing the brutality, fainted dead away and was immediately carried off, placed under strict supervision. There was truly no one left to save me. My face went ashen, drained of all color. Godfrey, meanwhile, had murder in his eyes. “Evelyn, I thought you’d ensnared some powerful figure, but it’s only a pathetic, disgraced guard who dares to tempt you into betraying me?” At this point, I no longer cared for appearances or consequences. “This child is… is—” My words were swallowed by a blinding flash of pain as the whip, whistling through the air, struck my abdomen.

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After I was brutally murdered by the Queen Consort, I found myself unexpectedly reborn into the body of another woman. To my astonishment, this person was intersex! Without hesitation, I pinned the haughty Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont firmly beneath me. “You’re so desperate to conceive, aren’t you? Perhaps I can help you with that?” Watching the disheveled yet powerless Queen Consort struggle beneath me, I felt a surge of unadulterated pleasure. But that wasn’t all. My gaze soon turned to King Lysander, rumored to have a fondness for men. Leaning close, I pinched Charlotte’s chin and laid out my demand: “Queen Consort, take me to the palace. Bring me before His Majesty.” … In my previous life, I was but a lowly scullery maid, assigned to the chambers of Queen Consort Charlotte. She was a woman of narrow mind and volatile temperament, treating human lives as less than nothing. Merely because I was cracking walnuts by her side when she heard news of another consort’s pregnancy, she had me beaten to death with a staff on a baseless charge. The hatred that surged through me was visceral; my very organs twisted in agony as I bled out, unwilling to accept my fate. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a pitch-black, suffocating room. The air was damp and foul, thick with the stench of decay. I coughed violently, then turned to a dusty, tarnished bronze mirror in the corner, where I saw a face strikingly similar to Charlotte’s! Sensual eyes, a pert nose, delicate lips… a naturally intoxicating charm, indeed. It was six or seven parts Charlotte, but a tear mole beneath my left eye added a touch of alluring mystery that even she lacked. As I inhabited this new body, a flood of memories cascared into my mind. Once they settled, I understood: this body belonged to the true Lady Beaumont. However, due to a peculiar birth defect—being born intersex—the Beaumont family, desperate to preserve their reputation, had adopted Charlotte, who bore a close resemblance to me, to masquerade as their daughter. Under the family’s tutelage, Charlotte had blossomed into a remarkable young woman, while I, the true blood heir, was slowly forgotten, left to languish and rot in this desolate annex. But as Charlotte’s position solidified, she grew increasingly arrogant and cruel. To fuel her vanity, she would often visit me, her tone condescending, delighting in my misery. Even worse, she secretly orchestrated insidious attacks against me, using her loyal retainers. To be absolutely certain I wouldn’t pose a threat, she even drugged me, hoping to render me simple-minded and imbecilic. Recalling this, a fierce resolve hardened within me. Typical of the venomous Queen Consort; just as cruel in the family mansion as she was in the palace. My thoughts spun, and my hand instinctively reached down, confirming the presence of anatomy that shouldn’t be there. So, this was what being intersex truly meant! Appearing outwardly female, yet possessing both male and female reproductive capabilities! It was little wonder the Beaumonts had kept Celeste, the body I now inhabited, confined to such a damp, gloomy room. But at this thought, a sudden, mirthless laugh escaped me. Perhaps the world would deem an intersex person a monster, but to me, it was an unprecedented advantage. Rumors whispered that before his ascension, the King was a notorious rake, known for frequenting dens of illicit pleasures catering to peculiar tastes. They said he was infatuated with men, only taking concubines after becoming King to ensure an heir. Whether these rumors held any truth, I, having already died once, cared little. My only desire was revenge, no matter the cost. A grand plan for vengeance began to form in my mind! At that moment, I heard footsteps outside and a familiar, arrogant voice, laced with mockery: “Let’s see if my unsightly sister is still breathing.” As light streamed in from the doorway, I saw her, exactly as she was in my past life’s memories: the dazzling Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont. She held a perfumed handkerchief to her nose, her face contorted in disgust. “Are you living and relieving yourself in this room now? You reek!” I stared at her, unwavering, and then a slow smile spread across my face. My voice, unused for so long, came out raspy and unpleasant: “Sister Charlotte, come closer. Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.” She fixed her gaze on me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What secret could you possibly have? I already know your biggest one.” I merely smiled wider. “But don’t you want to know why you haven’t conceived a child after all this time? I have a method that can help you.” Conception was Charlotte’s greatest anxiety in my past life. Predictably, the moment I uttered those words, Charlotte’s interest was piqued. She dismissed the maids who had accompanied her. “You all may withdraw. Lady Celeste and I have a few private matters to discuss.” Then, alone, she stepped into my squalid little room. “What method? Tell me quickly… Ah!” Charlotte demanded impatiently, but her last word was abruptly cut short. Catching her off guard, I lunged, seizing her wrists and binding her hands and feet. Just as I’d anticipated, this body possessed the strength of a young man. Charlotte’s eyes widened in terror. “What are you doing?!” I gave a menacing chuckle, then, in the most innocent tone, I whispered, “Sister Charlotte, you want to be with child, don’t you? I can get you pregnant. Have you forgotten… I also possess that?” Charlotte’s composure completely shattered. Fear and terror erased all traces of her usual grace. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Ah! Help! Someone… Mmph! Don’t… Help!” But no matter how she cried out, I clamped my hand over her mouth, my eyes burning with pure hatred. “Scream all you want, dear sister. I have nothing to lose, so I’m not afraid of you who has everything! At worst, we both go down together.” If fate had granted me this rebirth, I swore I would exact every ounce of revenge for myself and for the real Celeste—all the bitterness, all the humiliation. I would make her suffer beyond measure. With that thought, I put my full strength into it, and the sudden sound of tearing fabric ripped through the stale air. Charlotte seemed to guess my intention; her face went ashen, and she shrieked, “Get away! Get away… Ah!” I paid no heed, consumed by a furious resolve. Listening to her heart-wrenching screams, I felt nothing but grim satisfaction. In my previous life, when I was executed, I had pleaded and begged her, but she had turned a deaf ear, ordering me gagged and kicking me aside. Now, I was simply repaying the debt. I would not relent. I tormented Charlotte for a long, long time. So long that she wept and begged for mercy, so long that her tears ran dry, so long that the proud light vanished from her eyes. I had truly ground her into the dirt, watching the once haughty Queen Consort descend into a state of disheveled, dazed despair. In that moment, I understood the profound sense of dominance a man felt over a woman; now, I was dominating Charlotte. Leaning close, I pinched her face and issued my demand: “Charlotte Beaumont, take me to the palace. Bring me before the King.” I couldn’t simply let her go. I had to enter the palace. I wanted to be in her presence every single day; a simple act of revenge wouldn’t be enough to quell the hatred of both myself and the true Celeste. Charlotte’s eyes were unfocused, yet at the mention of “the King,” she instinctively looked at me. “No, impossible! I will never let a freak like you appear before His Majesty! You’re unworthy! You’re a monster!” Her true nature, unchanged. I narrowed my eyes, observing her reaction. It seems her affection for the King is indeed profound. All the more reason for me to enter the palace. Her threats and insults meant nothing to me. I grabbed her hair. Every extra word she uttered was met with a stronger tug on her scalp. “If you don’t bring me to the palace, I will tell the whole world what we did today! I’ll tell them how you begged and cried. And don’t think of killing me to silence me. Even if the Beaumonts abandoned me, they won’t simply ignore my death.” At my words, Charlotte’s face contorted in fear. She dissolved into tears, cursing me: “You maniac! You’ll rot in hell!” I thought she was a pot calling the kettle black. “Charlotte Beaumont, have you forgotten your past cruelties against me? Who was it that scorned my body from childhood, calling me a monster, driving me to self-loathing and despair? Who drugged me to make me simple-minded, and encouraged our parents to lock me away in this dark room? Wasn’t it all you? Have you not wronged me enough?” I flung these accusations at her, relentless. Charlotte recoiled, trembling, unable to utter a single word, merely staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. Seeing her disheveled and bruised, I finally felt a measure of vindication. “Take me to the palace, or we will both be destroyed. You choose.” In the royal carriage on the way back to the palace, Charlotte huddled beside me, trembling, softly pleading. “I’ve agreed to take you back to the palace. You mustn’t betray me and speak of those… unpleasant things. Please, I beg you.” My expression remained impassive. “Depends on your performance.” One sentence silenced Charlotte completely. Upon entering the palace, I smoothly met King Lysander in her chambers. The moment our eyes met, his were filled with a mixture of awe and delight. “Queen Consort, who is this? How can someone rival your breathtaking beauty?” I feigned a gentle, demure demeanor and lied that I was her distant cousin. All the while, King Lysander’s gaze remained fixed on me, completely disregarding Charlotte. Soon, Charlotte sensed the shift in attention and secretly warned me to behave. But I paid her no mind, immediately setting about charming King Lysander. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would grace the Clouded Pavilion tonight? Your humble servant promises you a delightful surprise.” Upon hearing this, King Lysander’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. That evening, I donned the most exquisitely crafted gown from Charlotte’s chambers and made my way to the Clouded Pavilion. Before long, a slightly tipsy King Lysander arrived. The moment he saw me, he wrapped his arms around my waist without a word, pulling me close. I leaned into him, feigning a gentle resistance. “Your Majesty, will you stay here tonight?” His kiss, smelling faintly of wine, descended upon me. His low voice rumbled, “My darling Celeste, since I’ve come tonight, I have no intention of leaving. But… where is this surprise you promised?” His tone was laced with seductive suggestion, and I, in turn, fixed him with an even more alluring gaze. “That, Your Majesty, you must uncover yourself in my chambers. Otherwise, where would the surprise be?” No sooner had the words left my lips than King Lysander swept me into his arms. He carried me swiftly to the bed, his movements eager. In the dim lamplight, I revealed myself completely, holding nothing back. When King Lysander saw what lay before him, his hands visibly trembled. “You… you are a man?” I smiled, pinching his chin playfully, and teased, “Your Majesty, you didn’t look closely enough. Take another look. I am, of course, a woman. But I can also be a man.” King Lysander’s eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on my unique anatomy. Soon, he visibly swallowed, his eyes now holding a hint of longing and even envy. I smiled, knowing the fish had taken the bait. It seemed the whispers about the King’s preference for men were indeed true. So I leaned close to his ear, whispering softly to provoke him: “Does Your Majesty approve?” His eager movements and a torrent of kisses were his only reply. That night, the bed curtains swayed gently, and the red candles flickered in the dancing shadows. But by the latter half of the night, his stamina clearly waned, bringing an end to the night’s debauchery. As I was about to close my eyes for sleep, I suddenly heard him lean in close, his voice a low, panting whisper: “Celeste, would you… would you like to be on top?” The air stilled for a moment. Hearing his words, my eyes snapped open, fixed unblinkingly on him. On the surface, he was asking if I wanted to take the dominant position, but implicitly, it revealed King Lysander’s desire to be the submissive one. He actually wanted to be the one beneath? My heart jolted with shock, yet I maintained a calm facade. “Does Your Majesty wish for it?” I countered.

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I couldn’t snag a train ticket home for the long Thanksgiving weekend, so I ended up booking a spot on a budget tour group. Desperate times, I guess. The tour guide, deliberately, ripped my tank top strap, then tried to strong-arm me into buying some ridiculously overpriced, ‘designer’ lingerie – almost three thousand dollars – threatening to leave me stranded if I refused. A mob of burly men surrounded me, closing in. I took one look, and a grin split my face. “Uncle Frank, Uncle Bob, Uncle Jim, Cousin Mark!” I chirped. “You guys came to pick me up?” The guide’s triumphant cackle choked in her throat. 1. The holiday travel rush was insane; getting a ticket home was a nightmare. So, I settled for the only option left: a tour group heading to a destination less than a mile from my own doorstep. It was basically a very expensive, very roundabout taxi. Departure was set for 4:30 PM. I arrived at the bus terminal at 4:20 PM, only to find the tour agency’s coach had already pulled out. My jaw dropped. I immediately called the agency owner, who, to his credit, ordered the bus to turn back right away. I stood there, fuming, for a full twenty minutes before the bus finally reappeared. The driver, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, was profusely apologetic. “I’m so sorry, miss! The guide told me everyone was accounted for, so I just drove off.” He seemed genuinely sorry, but the guide – Amber, I’d soon learn – stood blocking the entrance to the bus, her face a thundercloud. There wasn’t a hint of apology in her expression, even after seeing me, the passenger she’d left behind. She just rolled her eyes and marched back to her seat. She looked younger than me, her face artfully made up, but her gaze was cold, her tone sharp. “What are you staring at, old hag?” If I hadn’t been so utterly desperate for a ride home, I would never have chosen a tour bus during peak holiday season. But given my predicament, I decided to bite my tongue and endure. For now. I scanned the bus interior. Every single seat was taken. No spot for me. I forced patience into my voice. “Excuse me, where exactly is my seat?” Amber was engrossed in her phone, not even bothering to look up. A spark of annoyance flickered within me. I asked again. Amber slammed her phone down, then shoved me hard. “What’s there to ask? Everyone else showed up before four! You came so late, who knew if you were even coming? There’s no seat for you. Stand.” I burst out laughing, a furious, incredulous sound, and shoved her right back. “First, the confirmed departure time was 4:30, and I arrived at 4:20 – early. Second, you didn’t even do a headcount before telling the driver everyone was here; that’s your job, and you failed. What’s more, I asked you several times about my seat, and you ignored me, then put your hands on me. Looking for a fight, are we?” I leaned in closer. “And finally, a tour group has a fixed number of people. There has to be a vacant seat. If you can’t find one for me, then you can stand for the next five hours.” Five hours on a bus without a seat, after paying good money? Not a chance. Perhaps sensing I wasn’t a pushover, Amber glared at me, her eyes spitting venom. “You were late, so no seat. If you don’t want to go, take your refund and get lost.” I sneered. “Are you the boss? Did you decide 4:20 is ‘late’?” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was the owner calling. I answered, put him on speaker, and didn’t mince words. “Hey, sis,” I said, making sure Amber could hear every syllable, “the guide here says I was late and there’s no seat for me, so she’s telling me to ‘get lost.’” Amber’s eyes widened in panic. She lunged, snatching my phone and frantically pressing ‘end call.’ The very next second, her phone rang. It was the owner calling her. She got an earful, a blistering tirade that turned her face a sickly shade of green. She mumbled a grudging apology, then snatched back my phone with ill grace. The owner, still on video call with Amber, counted the heads on the bus. There was an extra kid. It turned out this boy was Amber’s nephew, Leo. When the poor kid was pulled from his seat, he started fussing loudly. Amber, without a shred of mercy, slapped him hard on the back. “Get up, and give your seat to this old hag!” My knuckles cracked as I clenched my fists. “I suggest you watch your mouth.” I’d been training in self-defense since I was little, and after starting college, I was practically living at the gym. My muscles were clearly visible even under my short sleeves. Amber bristled, but bit back her retort. Once the little boy was up, an elderly lady in the next seat immediately tugged my arm. “Come on, dear, sit down. Don’t bother with a crazy person. I’ve got some homegrown apples here, have a piece.” From the lady’s tone, it sounded like Amber had already made quite a scene before I even got on the bus. But just as the apple was almost in my hand, Amber snatched it away. “I said no eating on the bus! I get motion sickness! Are you deaf, old woman?” 2. Amber stuffed the confiscated apple into her own bag, glaring down at us. “Let me repeat the tour rules!” she announced, puffing out her chest. “Rule number one: Once you’re on this bus, I’m in charge. No one challenges me. Violators pay a hundred-dollar fine.” “Rule number two: I get motion sickness. No eating on the bus. See something, I confiscate it.” “Rule number three: No phone calls or video chats. Too noisy. I like peace and quiet. Anyone making noise gets kicked off.” “Rule number four: When we reach our destination, you buy whatever I tell you to. Otherwise, I’ll leave you there.” “Rule number five: To be determined later.” From behind me, a young man snorted. “Psycho.” Amber wheeled around, strutting up to him. “What was that? Think you can mess with me because I’m a girl?” She put her hands on her hips. “We girls are delicate flowers, you know? We need gentle care and protection. I bet you don’t even have a girlfriend, do you? Ugly, bad temper – no wonder no one wants you.” The young man bristled, about to rise, but his friend quickly pulled him back down. “Don’t bother with her. We’ll deal with this after we get home.” Amber continued her tirade for a while longer, until the other passengers, almost in unison, pulled out their headphones and slipped them on. I followed suit, hoping to catch some sleep and escape the madness. I’d barely drifted off when I felt a tugging at my bag. My eyes snapped open. Amber’s nephew, Leo, was there, his dirty little hands yanking hard at the character keychain hanging from my purse. When his hands couldn’t yank it off, he resorted to using his teeth. I was just about to get up when he suddenly plopped to the floor and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “She kicked me! She kicked me!” Everyone who had been sleeping jolted awake. Amber rushed over, wrapping an arm around her nephew, her eyes glinting with calculated malice. “You kicked my nephew! You owe me money, right now!” She pulled Leo closer, her voice rising. “If you’ve hurt him, can you even afford the damages?” Little Leo, meanwhile, wailed dramatically. “I don’t want money! I want that toy! I want the toy!” The series was red-hot right now, and the one on my bag was a rare, hidden edition, easily worth a couple of hundred dollars on the resell market. Seeing the adorable rabbit now, slobber-covered and dirt-stained from the kid’s teeth, was utterly frustrating. But I had several more at home, and I just wanted to get through the rest of this awful trip smoothly. So, I unclipped the rabbit keychain and tossed it into the boy’s lap. He finally quieted down, clutching the rabbit and showing it off to Amber, who promptly snatched it and stuffed it into her own bag. That bag seemed to be a repository for all the things she’d forcibly taken from people. Leo, meanwhile, rummaged inside, pulled out a bag of chips, and munched away noisily. I just shook my head. A while later, the bus finally pulled into a service area. I got off to use the restroom, but when I returned, I found my carry-on bag being stomped on by Leo. The bag was full of expensive cosmetics I’d chosen not to take with me because of the weight, and now they were all shattered. My fists clenched. The anger that had been simmering all day began to boil. I marched straight to the small police station located beside the service area and filed a report. The station was swamped and understaffed due to the holiday rush, but they assured me an officer would be dispatched before the bus departed again. I returned to the bus, my bag still a chaotic mess from being ransacked. The fury in my heart intensified as I began to inspect the damage. Amber chose that moment to return from the restroom. Her nephew instantly held up a bottle of perfume. Amber’s eyes lit up. She snatched the bottle. “I told you I get motion sickness. I hate strong smells. This perfume is confiscated.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Your nephew destroyed my things. Are you going to pay for them, or buy me a new set?” Amber acted completely nonchalant. “He’s just a kid, he didn’t mean it! Why are you, an adult, nitpicking with a child?” “Besides,” she added with a dismissive wave, “your stuff looked like cheap fakes anyway. Probably not even worth a hundred bucks total. Are you trying to extort me?” My cosmetics were all high-end, genuine brands. Even just one of my foundations cost hundreds, not counting the rest. Amber, on the other hand, was decked out in obvious knock-offs. As she argued with me, her nephew was sitting in my seat, drawing all over my bag with my eyebrow pencil. Not only that, he stuck his finished chewing gum right on my bus seat. Amber just shrugged. “He’s just a kid. Go on, hit him if you dare? You wouldn’t.” Without a word, I grabbed the kid, gave him a swift, disciplinary swat on the rear, and he instantly burst into wails. Amber started to lunge forward, intending to rescue him, but I shot her a look. “You want a swat too?” She immediately bit her lip, holding back. Just then, a police officer finally arrived. Amber, the queen of pre-emptive strikes, immediately started yelling. “Officer! There’s a lunatic on our bus! She just assaulted my nephew!” “He’s just a kid, what does he know? This old hag just attacked him! Look what she did to my nephew!” The officer glanced at me, then turned his gaze to Amber. “He’s just a kid who doesn’t know better. What’s your excuse?” He folded his arms. “Willful destruction of private property. Do you know how many days that can get you in detention?” Amber’s face drained of color instantly. I didn’t want her detained, just compensation for my losses. I pulled out my mobile payment QR code. “These items were half-used, so you can pay half price.” My damaged items totaled around ten thousand dollars. With the officer present, Amber grudgingly transferred five thousand dollars to me. She glowered at me as if she wanted to skin me alive, then rolled her eyes and tried to sit back down. I grabbed her arm and firmly pressed her down onto my original seat. The chewing gum her nephew had stuck there? She could enjoy it herself. 3. After the police officer’s visit, Amber remained unusually quiet for the rest of the journey. The other passengers finally breathed a collective sigh of relief; people made video calls, chatted, and shared snacks. Amber kept glaring at me, hunched over her phone, typing furiously. I subtly peeked at her screen, catching a glimpse of a profile picture that looked strangely familiar. My mom texted again, asking where I was. Just ahead was the tour group’s first stop: a large department store. Our family owned it. I texted back: Almost at our store, I can just head home from here. But my mom wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted on sending someone to pick me up. “Your Uncle Frank and the others are already here. Don’t be a bother, just come straight home for dinner, okay?” The bus slowly pulled up to the back entrance of the department store. I was busy texting my mom, so I only got up after everyone else had already disembarked. But then Amber suddenly moved close, took a pair of small scissors from her pocket, and snip! Through my tank top strap. The holiday heat had been intense on the bus, so I’d shed my jacket much earlier, leaving me in just my inner camisole. Both the camisole strap and my bra strap, which were quite thin, were cleanly severed. I looked at her, my gaze icy, the anger accumulated throughout the day reaching its breaking point. “Are you seriously trying to get yourself killed?” Amber puffed out her chest, looking even more arrogant. “Let me tell you, my boyfriend is a cop. This is his hometown! You won’t get away with messing with me here!” She glanced around, lowering her voice slightly. “We still have the return trip, you know. If you keep crossing me, I’ll make your life hell. But, if you buy one piece of lingerie, we can call it even.” We were in the parking lot, and I instinctively clutched my chest, trying to cover myself. “How much?” She smirked triumphantly. “Not much. Just nineteen thousand.” Nineteen thousand dollars, and she called it “not much”? She was trying to pull a scam right on my family’s turf! I scoffed, a humorless, angry laugh. At that moment, a group of men started gathering around us. Amber’s eyes lit up when she saw them. “See?” she hissed triumphantly. “If you don’t buy it, I’ll have these men take you away!” I swept my gaze over the men’s faces, and my smile broadened. “Uncle Frank, Uncle Bob, Uncle Jim, Cousin Mark!” I called out, my voice clear and cheerful. “You guys came to pick me up!”

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My boyfriend lost his memory. And he fell for the one person he’d always despised. He announced it on social media: “Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you.” My friends tried to push me. “Aren’t you going to fight for him? He got that head injury saving your life, after all.” “And before his surgery, he begged you. He said if he came out of it ‘scrambled,’ you had to find a way to make him love you again.” I just shook my head, refusing to speak. In my last life, I endured a year of humiliation to finally make him remember me. In the end, all I got was a cold, dismissive question: “Why not just let this mistake be?” This time, I was determined to walk away. But when I stood with my arm linked through my new boyfriend’s, Evan’s eyes went red, his composure shattering. 1 The moment Evan opened his eyes after the surgery, I knew the script of my past life was replaying. His gaze swept over me, distant and empty, without a flicker of recognition. Evan’s father, overjoyed, seized the opportunity to sever all contact between us. The next time I heard anything about Evan was a month later. He posted a photo on his social media account, an embrace with a woman named Faye. The caption read: “Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you.” Their love story spread like wildfire. They said the heir to the Thorne family was terrifyingly lucid after his amnesia, wary even of his own parents. But the moment he saw Faye, that cold mask cracked. They stared at each other for a long moment before Evan’s hand trembled and pressed against his heart. “Who are you?” Faye leaned against the doorframe, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “We grew up together. I’m your fiancée, silly.” Evan pulled her into his arms. The confusion and terror of his memory loss finally found an anchor. “What took you so long?” he asked, his voice thick with a child-like grievance. 2 Evan’s father had spent three years trying to pry him away from me with threats and bribes, all to no avail. One bout of amnesia, and Evan fell right into the arms of the woman his father had chosen for him. Everything was back on its predetermined track. My friends were furious on my behalf. “Evan cut ties with his family just to be with you and to get out of that arranged marriage with Faye. How could he possibly like her?” “Exactly! Every time Faye tried to get near him before, he looked at her with pure disgust. He must think she’s you!” They urged me to go “save” him, insisting that when his memory returned, he’d be mortified, sickened by what he’d done. I just shook my head at their pleas. Because I knew the truth. Evan wouldn’t be mortified. He would drown himself in Faye’s feigned tenderness and never want to wake up. In my last life, I spent a year enduring his insults and humiliation, all to make him remember me. And when he finally did, he got drunk, scrolling through photos of his sweet moments with Faye over and over. Then he looked up at me, his eyes like chips of ice. “Why not just let this mistake be?” I froze, completely lost. “…But you begged me before the surgery. You lost your memory saving my life.” Evan cut me off. “And for that, I haven’t treated you poorly.” His voice was laced with impatience. “Can’t you just… let me go?” I will never forget the searing pain and humiliation of that moment. Now, facing it all again, I would not walk that same path to ruin. I refused my friends’ advice, packed my things, and left the home I had shared with Evan that very night. 3 But fate had other plans. I was with my best friend, running errands. I fell asleep in the car, and when I woke up, she had parked in front of a bar. The moment we walked in, I realized it was the grand opening of a bar owned by Evan’s friend, Samuel. A jolt of clarity shot through me. The script was still playing out. Inside, Evan was the center of attention, Faye nestled in his arm. He didn’t seem surprised to see me at all. A mocking smile touched his lips, just as I knew it would. “Miss Rhea, is it? They tell me you’re the one I saved.” “That’s right,” I nodded. His brow furrowed. “They also said you intended to repay my kindness with… yourself. I didn’t quite believe it at first.” He sneered. “But seeing as you’ve gone to such lengths to track me down here, you can’t blame me for being blunt.” He shot to his feet, looking down at me, the disdain in his eyes undisguised. “Listen closely, Miss Rhea. You don’t have to repay me for saving your life, but you can’t repay my kindness with this kind of twisted obsession!” He bit off each word, his face a mask of frost. “Do I make myself clear?” It was identical to my last life. Even the wounding words were the same, word for word. That day, in my last life, the bar was filled with Evan and Samuel’s friends. Most of them knew about our history. I naively thought they would stand up for me, confirm our relationship. So when Evan ordered his men to throw me out, I fought back, desperately trying to tell the truth. I know I must have looked pathetic and crazed, but I couldn’t bear to see him deceived, couldn’t accept our love ending like this. I held up my phone, begging him to just look at our photos together. He ordered his men to destroy the “fake pictures” with a look of disgust. In the struggle, my collar was torn, exposing my shoulder. Faye let out a tinkling laugh. She turned to Evan, her voice a playful purr. “Evan, darling, what do you mean a ‘twisted obsession’? I think she has a rather nice figure, don’t you?” Evan ignored my cries, pinching Faye’s cheek with faux affection. “You’re asking for it.” The crowd chuckled knowingly at their exchange. Not a single person spoke up for me. Even Samuel, who had secretly given me the invitation, looked away uncomfortably. As I was dragged out the door, Evan was cradling the back of Faye’s neck, lowering his lips for a deep, passionate kiss… I snapped back to the present. Evan was waiting for my response, his patience wearing thin. “Since you don’t seem to understand, let me be perfectly clear. Your offer to ‘repay me with yourself’ is the last thing I want.” His voice was frigid. “You’re not my type. Even before I lost my memory, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance. So stop fantasizing about me.” The bar fell silent. All eyes were on me. Even those who knew our past were eagerly waiting to see the abandoned woman make a fool of herself. But Evan’s condescending, holier-than-thou act no longer hurt me. Instead, it ignited a deep, simmering hatred. I laughed, my tone exaggerated. “So, Mr. Thorne, you’ve spent all this time dramatically warning me off because you thought I was interested in you?” The crowd stilled, ears perked. Evan scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve been contacting my lawyer, trying to dig up information on me.” Faye burst out laughing again, bending over with the force of it. “Oh, Miss Rhea, just how badly do you want my fiancé? You’re certainly persistent.” The people around them joined in with low, mocking chuckles. I shook my head, my own smile laced with weary amusement. “Of course, I have to be persistent.” I slowly reached into my bag and pulled out a single sheet of paper. As I unfolded it, two large words were visible to everyone: I.O.U. “Because if I’m not, your fiancé might just decide to default on the money he owes me!” 4 The IOU in my hand was from three years ago. Back then, Evan had cut ties with his family for me, and they had frozen all his assets. I gave him my entire life savings to start his own company. His eyes had been red as he wrote it out, stroke by stroke. He’d said, “Rhea, I’ll spend my entire life paying back what I owe you.” I no longer wanted his lifetime. But getting my money back was my right. My declaration sent a shockwave through the bar. First, the idea of Evan Thorne, the sole heir to the Thorne fortune, borrowing money from a humble acupuncturist like me was absurd. But then they remembered he’d been cast out by his family, and looks of dawning comprehension spread across their faces. Second, Evan had just finished publicly berating me for harassing him, loudly warning me to love him less, only for it to turn out he was the one in debt. It was all a self-important fantasy. The crowd’s whispers grew louder. “She’s here to collect a debt? Pfft…” “Not a debt of love, a real, monetary debt!” The grins on their faces were becoming impossible to contain. The mob is always like that; they side with whoever has the upper hand. Evan’s face was a thundercloud. He didn’t even look at the paper in my hand. “Hah. Clever little trick. But it won’t work on me. Get out now, before I really lose my temper.” My own face hardened. I held the IOU up high, making sure everyone could see Evan’s distinctive, sharp handwriting. My voice turned sharp, too. “Take a good look at the signature. It even has your thumbprint on it. If your eyes are failing you, I’d be happy to have a professional verify its authenticity.” “And besides this note, I have the bank transfer records from three years ago.” Evan’s eyes flickered as he stared at the familiar script. For a moment, his rigid composure wavered. He pressed his hand to his temple, his brow furrowed in pain. I let out a cold laugh. “See it clearly now? If you do, then you should understand why I was talking to your lawyer. The legal process is complicated. Perhaps your lawyer understands the basic principle of paying one’s debts better than you do.” The other patrons in the bar were now fully invested. “Is he faking a headache to get out of paying?” “Wow, I actually thought she was harassing him. Turns out he’s a deadbeat who’s trying to flip the script.” “Looks like a gentleman, acts like a scumbag!” Evan’s head seemed to hurt even more. His face darkened, his brow knitting tighter. Faye started to panic. She pulled his hand away from his head. “Evan, darling, if you can’t remember, don’t try! Stop torturing yourself.” Then she whirled around, snatched the IOU from my hand, and ripped it to shreds. “If you spout any more nonsense, I’ll make sure you’re sued for slander. The Thorne family has the resources to make it stick!” I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Why the rush, Miss Faye? Weren’t you cackling like a hen just a minute ago when you heard I was talking to a lawyer? Is a mere eight hundred thousand really enough to give you a headache and make you fly off the handle?” As I spoke, I pulled a second IOU from my bag. “Look closely. I have plenty more, all identical.” I tucked the paper into the breast pocket of Evan’s suit. “Mr. Big Shot, if you want to skip out on your debt, just say so. I’d at least respect you for being a man about it. Slandering your creditor and accusing her of being blindly in love with you is just pathetic.” “You have three days. If I don’t see the money, don’t blame me for what happens next. A person with nothing to lose has no fear of a man in expensive shoes.” 5 The scene that day was ugly. The host, Samuel, finally rushed out, pretending he’d just finished with some urgent business, and tried to smooth things over. I didn’t wait for him to speak. I snatched the invitation from my friend’s hand and threw it in his face. “Samuel, if you’re man enough to covet another man’s fiancée, you should be man enough to fight for her yourself instead of starting wars for others and hiding in the shadows like a coward, waiting to pick up the scraps.” Samuel’s face turned a sickly shade of green. “Ooh, spicy! Does the owner have a thing for the deadbeat’s fiancée?” “That deadbeat’s a pretty good actor, though. Look at the sweat on his forehead.” Humiliated, Samuel started trying to clear the bar, ushering guests out. The room was in chaos. I turned and walked out of the bar without a backward glance. Behind me, Evan’s gaze was fixed on my back, as if held there by some powerful, unseen force. His eyes burned not just with anger, but with a deep, churning confusion and unease. 6 I heard Evan got sick. He collapsed right after leaving Samuel’s bar. He was plagued by headaches for days. As soon as he felt slightly better, he ordered his people to verify the eight-hundred-thousand-dollar debt. In a panic, Faye brought him to a traditional medicine clinic for acupuncture. Her request was simple: relax Evan’s mind, stop him from thinking about the past. In other words, don’t let him regain his memory. As luck would have it, the renowned specialist was my mentor, Dr. Adler. The day they came, I was at her clinic for physical therapy. We were separated by a thin curtain. They waited outside while I received treatment. Dr. Adler stimulated my fingers with the needles, her voice full of concern. “How could you try to bend a sharp steel plate with your bare hands? The tendons in these fingers were nearly severed. Even after therapy, you may never be able to hold a needle properly again.” I managed a bitter smile but said nothing. In this life, when the accident happened, I didn’t have my memories from the last one. When I saw Evan, pinned by a steel plate and barely breathing after saving me, how could I have done nothing? I had gone mad, clawing at that plate, my hands a bloody mess, feeling no pain at all. Evan had cried, weakly trying to pry my fingers away. “Rhea, let go! Your hands… how will you ever hold a needle again if you ruin them?” His blood dripped down, blurring his face. “Please, Rhea, let go. I only ask one thing of you. If… if my brain gets scrambled, promise me you’ll find a way to make me remember… that I love you!” The fine silver needles pricked my fingers, one by one. I remained silent as my eyes began to burn. Dr. Adler administered the last needle with a heavy heart. “What a tragedy. If these hands can’t hold a needle, your career is over.” She shook her head and walked out. Evan was settled onto the treatment bed next to mine. Faye chattered away. “Doctor, was the patient next door also in a car accident?” “She was rescuing her boyfriend from a car crash,” my mentor replied. “Truck drivers these days are the worst,” Faye complained. “If that driver hadn’t been driving fatigued, my fiancé wouldn’t have been in this mess.” She sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess you can’t blame him entirely. There was that other driver, the woman. So stupid, such a terrible driver. If he hadn’t shielded her, this never would have happened.” Her voice took on a tinge of grievance. “Evan, darling, if you could do it all over again, would you still forget me just to save that idiot?” Evan was silent for a long time. Then his voice came, low and firm. “No.” Faye was delighted, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Of course not! It was all trouble and no reward. Now we can’t even get rid of her.” Evan said nothing more. Dr. Adler came over to begin his treatment. “Just the head needs acupuncture, correct?” “That’s right. Only his head was seriously injured. We were lucky. He was pinned across the chest, but my fiancé is blessed. That sharp steel plate only broke a few bones.” “The doctors said several ribs were fractured. It barely missed his organs.” … Dr. Adler was quiet for a long moment. She seemed to be looking at their registration form. A moment later, Faye’s voice turned shrill. “Doctor, why are your hands shaking? How can you perform acupuncture like that?” My mentor’s tone was sharp. “If you don’t trust me, you can request a refund. I’m not the right person to treat your fiancé’s condition.” “How dare you! Why you…” Faye was about to argue further, but it seemed Evan stopped her. The voices outside fell silent. After a moment of quiet, there was a sharp swish. The curtain by my bed was ripped open. 7 Evan stood beside my bed, his eyes blazing with fury. “You really are relentless, aren’t you?” “Going to all the trouble of bribing a doctor to stage this little drama for me. Tell me, what will it take to finally get rid of you?” He finished, his gaze falling on my hands, which were bristling with silver needles. He let out a choked laugh. “You really commit to the part, don’t you? You’re certainly not afraid to hurt yourself.” Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “Today, I’m going to see for myself which of your tendons are ‘severed’!” “Don’t!” Faye shrieked. Too late. The grotesque scars on the inside of my fingers were laid bare for Evan to see. Four fingers, marked with deep scars of varying sizes—all from keeping that steel plate from piercing his chest. Evan froze. Panic flared in his eyes before he snatched my other hand. The same. Four fingers, each one scarred. He looked dazed, a wave of uncontrollable terror washing over him. “This is impossible! Impossible!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Seeing him press his temples again, Faye had a flash of inspiration. “Evan, darling, he saved you! Isn’t it only right that she helped hold the plate for a second?” “Calm down. Her old tactics of clinging to you didn’t work, so now she’s trying to play the victim. You can’t feel sorry for her.” Just like last time, Faye’s words were the lifeline Evan desperately needed. In my last life, I had humbly used the scars on my hands to prove our love. Evan had been moved at first. I thought that small flicker of emotion would be enough to make him investigate the truth. I was wrong. Perhaps he was too cowardly to seek the truth, or too arrogant to bother. In any case, Faye’s explanation gave him the perfect excuse to run. He deliberately chose to hurt me. “So what if it’s true? I trust my own feelings. Even without my memory, my heart tells me who I love.” He had touched his chest, his smile cruel. “And right here,” he’d said, “I feel nothing for you.” I had cried with such despair that day. I tried to tell myself to give up, but the memory of Evan, his face covered in blood, wouldn’t let me go. The good Evan and the bad Evan tore me apart until I was on the verge of a breakdown. But this time, facing his attitude, my heart was a placid lake. After hearing Faye’s words, the confusion in Evan’s eyes dissipated. He was saved, free to take the easy way out. His brow relaxed; the headache seemed to vanish. But his attitude toward me had shifted slightly. His tone softened, and he avoided looking at my hands. “If you were trying to guilt-trip me, you’ve succeeded.” “Name your price. Anything but my affection, I can give you.” I burst out laughing. I leaned back against the headboard, looking him up and down with open contempt. “Guilt-trip you? Let me tell you something, I wouldn’t stand by and watch a stray dog suffer, let alone a human life, no matter how worthless. And ‘anything I can give’? That’s a big promise. How about you pay back the eight hundred thousand before you start making grand declarations?” Evan’s face flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth to argue but was speechless. Just then, Dr. Adler came to remove my needles. She did one hand, and I did the other myself. As my fingertips closed around a silver needle, Evan flinched back, a conditioned reflex making him hide his hands behind his back. When he realized what he’d done, he froze, his breathing growing ragged. I watched him, a wicked smile playing on my lips as I slowly, deliberately, pulled the needles from my hand, one by one. With each needle, the color drained further from his face. The body’s instincts don’t lie. Three years ago, when I used to practice on him, he developed a fear of my needles. Whenever I held one, he’d hide his hands. Now, he stared at my movements, his expression shifting from shock to pure panic. He grabbed Faye’s hand, his voice fragmented and broken. “We need to… go home. Now.”

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1 My mother hated me. She believed I had stolen the love of my father, my grandfather, and my grandmother from her. On Christmas Day, she left me at home alone with three male neighbors while she went shopping with other relatives. Before she left, I cried and told her I was scared. She just sneered at me. “Willow, they’re your elders! Besides, with that scrawny body of yours, you really think they’d be interested?” After she was gone, they raped me, then killed me. They dismembered my body and flushed it down the drain. When my mother couldn’t find me, she told our relatives that I was born cheap, that I’d probably run off to fool around with some boy. But later, when she learned of my death, she went mad. When my mother bought clothes for my cousin, her face was lit with a gentle smile I had never seen before. She carefully held a dress up to my cousin, beaming as she praised her. “This bright color is just perfect for our little Joy.” My cousin tried to refuse, but my mother insisted. “It’s Christmas! A festive color for a festive time.” My aunt felt a little awkward. “Since we’re here,” she said, “we should get something for Willow, too.” I really did need new clothes. The winter coat I was wearing was from two years ago, a gift from my father for my fifteenth birthday. Teenagers grow fast. I couldn’t even zip it up anymore. But my mother’s face twisted in disgust. “Buy her something? Why?” “So she can dress up all flashy and go seduce men? Besides, Willow was born trash. She doesn’t deserve clothes this nice.” Although my cousin and aunt were used to hearing my mother say such things, they couldn’t help but look embarrassed. All our relatives knew. My mother didn’t like me. She had been the apple of her parents’ and brother’s eyes growing up. Then she met my father, who spoiled her like a princess. My cousin told me that when my mother was pregnant with me, she had been excited for my arrival. She used to say she hoped I’d be a boy, so I could protect her alongside my father. But I was a girl. And a premature one at that. I was frail after birth, so my grandparents and my father shifted some of their attention from my mother to me. My mother felt I had stolen their love. From that day on, she disliked me. The more she neglected me, the guiltier my grandparents and father felt, and the more she hated me. It was tolerable when they were around. But as soon as they were gone, she would become even worse. She once stared at me with pure hatred and said, “I wish I had just gotten rid of you when you were still in my belly.” Remembering the cold, venomous look in her eyes, I shuddered. When I came back to myself, my mother had already dragged my aunt out of the clothing store, as if terrified she might actually buy me something. A sudden wave of sadness washed over me. But, Mom. Even if you were willing to buy me clothes now, I couldn’t wear them. I followed behind them, watching as they continued to wander through the mall. My father, who was visiting relatives out of town, called. He reminded my mother, “Willow is a big girl now. When you and your sister-in-law go out, don’t leave her home alone.” My mother bristled at my father’s concern for me. She whined into the phone, “Willow, Willow, that’s all you ever care about! What about me? I’m your wife!” My father’s good-natured laugh came through the phone. “Of course, I care about you. I care about you the most.” After a few more sweet nothings, he reminded her again, “Remember to keep Willow with you. Men who’ve been drinking can be dangerous.” My mother nodded absently and hung up. She kicked at a pile of snow, muttering unhappily. “They say a daughter is her father’s lover from a past life. It must be true.” “Little slut.” I watched her, my heart aching with a strange urge to cry. Knowing my mother’s personality, my father sent a message to my cousin. At the sound of the notification, my mother eyed my cousin suspiciously. “Well, well, looks like our Joy is a busy bee. Who’s messaging you on Christmas?” My cousin didn’t dare say it was my father and quickly made up a lie. But she took his words to heart. A little while later, she said casually, “Auntie, maybe we should head back. It’s getting really cold out here.” “Besides, it’s no fun for Willow to be home all by herself.” My mother couldn’t stand anyone showing me concern. “Who said she’s alone?” she retorted. “Aren’t her two older ‘brothers’ and their uncle there with her?” My aunt also felt uneasy. “But they’re all men, and they’ve been drinking. Rose, Willow’s a young woman now. It’s not safe for her to be alone with them.” My mother just scoffed. “What’s not safe about it?” “They’re her elders! Besides, with that scrawny body of hers, what man would even look at her?” Hearing this, a dull ache spread through my chest. How strange. My heart had already been torn out, so how could it still hurt? 2 Two hours ago, my mother had said the exact same thing to me. It was Christmas Day. Our neighbor, Uncle Miller, had come over with his two sons. My aunt and cousin were also there, so it was a lively gathering. Everyone had a little to drink with dinner. The women were fine, but Uncle Miller and his sons drank heavily. After dinner, my mother suggested she, my aunt, and my cousin go shopping, leaving me at home alone. Uncle Miller and his sons eyed me with lecherous gazes. I trembled with fear. Drunk, they no longer had their usual gentle demeanor. They looked like savage beasts. I clutched my mother’s sleeve, pleading, “Mom, I want to go with you. I don’t want to stay home…” “I’m scared!” But she pried my hand off and sneered at me. “Willow, they’re your elders! Besides, you really think with that scrawny body of yours, they’d be interested?” Before I could say another word, she pushed me into my room and locked the door, leaving the key and my phone on the coffee table outside. But she didn’t know. The moment they left, Uncle Miller and his sons unlocked the door and came in. They subjected me to a brutal assault. Afraid I would scream and alert the neighbors, they covered my mouth and nose, pressing down hard. By the time it was over, I was dead. Mom, if you had just listened to Dad, if you had just called me instead of coming back, you would have found out that I was already gone. While you were saying those words, Uncle Miller and his sons were frantically dismembering my body and flushing it down the toilet. Mom. The bathroom floor is so cold. I’m so cold, and it hurts so much. My mother took my aunt and cousin to get their nails done. I watched from the side, a little envious. Once, I had the chance to go with her. The nail salon was filled with countless sparkling decorations, glittering under the lights. They were so beautiful, like crystals from a fairy tale. I was leaning over the counter, mesmerized, when my mother’s gaze fell on me. She slapped me, hard. “What are you looking at?” she mocked in front of everyone. “Want to get your nails done so you can better seduce men?” I was stunned, my hand covering my cheek as I stood there, frozen. People pointed and whispered, but my mother didn’t spare me another glance. But now, she was saying to my cousin, “Joy, you have such long, fair fingers. Any style would look beautiful on you.” I lowered my head and looked away. My cousin sent me a text. I didn’t reply. She looked worried. While my mother was getting her nails done, she snuck out to call me. But I couldn’t answer the phone anymore. My cousin grew even more anxious, shifting restlessly in her seat. I wanted to comfort her, but my hand passed right through her body. I fell silent, my eyes stinging. Just then, a young mother and daughter walked in. The mother was also there for a manicure, and her daughter had her arm linked through hers, helping her pick out charms. The daughter chose two large rhinestones. “Mom, these are so pretty!” she giggled. The mother lovingly tapped her nose. “My baby has the best taste!” They had such a wonderful relationship. I was so envious my eyes felt cold. I couldn’t look away. When I finally did, I realized my mother was watching them too. My aunt noticed as well. “What’s wrong, Rose? Are you jealous?” she teased. My heart tightened. That’s right. Mom, do you also envy their bond? But in the next moment, my mother looked away with a dismissive tsk. “I am envious,” she said. “That little girl is so much more likable than Willow,” she added with disgust. “You don’t know, sis. Willow is so manipulative. She only knows how to act pitiful in front of my parents and my husband, making it seem like I abuse her! She’s always trying to please them, just to steal everything that’s mine!” My aunt wanted to say something, but she held her tongue. She knew my mother’s beliefs were too deeply ingrained. In the end, she just sighed. But for some reason, my mother irritably pushed away the charms she had just chosen. She told the nail technician to just do a single color. “Forget it. There’s nothing else worth seeing. Let’s just go back.” “Before that damn girl causes any trouble at home.” A flicker of hope stirred in my chest. Mom, could it be that seeing other mothers and daughters made you think of the daughter you left behind? But Mom, it’s too late now. The blood and hair I left in the bathroom have already been cleaned up by Uncle Miller and his sons. 3 When they got home, my mother, aunt, and cousin went straight to my room. It was neat and tidy, as if no atrocity had ever occurred. If I weren’t the one who had lived through it, I might have thought it was all just a bad dream. My cousin became even more worried. She turned to look at Uncle Miller and his sons, who were pretending to watch TV. Their eyes met hers, and they quickly looked away, their gazes darting back to the television. My cousin sensed something was wrong. She tugged on my aunt’s sleeve. My aunt, her brow furrowed, seemed to realize something too. “Where’s Willow?” she asked them. “Oh,” the older son, Ken, stammered with a weak smile. “She probably went out. I saw her take a call and leave.” My cousin looked skeptical. Ken nudged his brother, Leo, who quickly chimed in. “Yeah, yeah! Girls her age probably prefer hanging out with their friends, right?” My cousin was even more convinced something was wrong. She said that even if I had gone out, my phone shouldn’t be unreachable. She and my aunt exchanged a look. “Let’s call the police,” my aunt said firmly. Uncle Miller and his sons flinched. But my mother stopped them. She looked furious. “Call the police for what?” Her voice was cold and certain. “You don’t know Willow, but I do!” “She’s making herself unreachable on purpose because she knows my parents are coming over tomorrow! She wants to use this to tattle on me! To say I mistreat her!” My aunt and cousin were speechless. “Rose, what are you talking about…” But my mother just sneered, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’ll show her who’s more important to my parents, me or her!” “That little slut! She’s asking for a beating! Nobody is to go looking for her! When she gets back, I’ll break her legs!” The more my cousin listened, the more absurd it sounded. “Auntie! Willow isn’t like that!” she cried out. My mother just laughed coldly. “Not like that? You’ve all been fooled by her act!” “Just a few days ago, I saw her out shopping with some boy. That little slut is dating behind our backs! She’s probably out fooling around with her boyfriend right now!” Hearing this, my aunt and cousin’s suspicions were finally, reluctantly, quelled. The next day, I still hadn’t returned. My mother woke up early. She cooked dumplings for my cousin and braided her hair. I watched her hands weave through my cousin’s dark hair, so gentle, as if terrified of hurting her. The winter sun slanted through the window, bathing them in a warm glow. It was such a tender scene, as if they were the real mother and daughter. I felt a little dazed. Mom, if my cousin were your daughter, would you treat her the way you treat me? Is it me you dislike, or is it any girl who happens to be your daughter? Or maybe… Even now, I still don’t understand why my mother doesn’t like me. Was it because when I was three, she had terrible menstrual cramps, and my father had to leave her to rush me to the hospital with a 104-degree fever? Or was it in kindergarten, when she forgot to pick me up after school because she was out shopping with friends, and I was almost kidnapped? When my grandfather found out, he scolded her harshly, humiliating her. I don’t know. But Mom. You did love me once, when I was little. In the fifth grade, I was bullied by my classmates for my tattered clothes. You happened to see it when you came to the school. You were like an angry mother hen, shielding a trembling me behind you, childishly threatening the other kids that if anyone dared to bully Willow again, you would beat them up. Mom, you don’t know. How I wish time could have frozen in that moment. On the third day, the day after Boxing Day, my mother still hadn’t looked for me. It was as if I was never meant to be a part of this family. My father had called to ask about me, but my mother had brushed him off, saying I was out with friends. By now, the three men who had killed me had been sent home by my mother with all the proper courtesies. My grandparents arrived, wanting to give me my Christmas money. A flash of disgust crossed my mother’s eyes. She ran to them, whining like a child. “Mom, Dad, all you ever think about is Willow! What about my present? Did you get one for me?” My grandparents smiled and handed her an envelope. “Of course, we have one for you! We could forget anyone, but never you!” Like a red butterfly, my mother happily took the envelope into her bedroom. My grandparents continued to look for me. “Where’s Willow? Rose? Tell Willow her grandparents are here! We have a big gift for her!” My mother’s voice, tinged with annoyance, came from the bedroom. “What big gift? What does a child need a big gift for? Mom, Dad, just leave the money with me!” My grandparents frowned. Just then, my cousin, who had been calling me nonstop for two days, turned pale. She whispered to my grandparents that she hadn’t been able to reach me for two days.

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I was hit with a sudden, searing case of acute pancreatitis. But when I got to the hospital, the doctor refused to see me. All because my husband was an ER doctor there. He’d given orders that no one was to treat me. Last time, I made one phone call, and he was there in an instant. But in his absence, his one true love got into a car accident. She died at the scene. He blamed me for all of it. On my mother’s birthday, he drugged my entire family. He took a scalpel to me, stabbing me over and over. “Does it hurt? Victoria was in more pain. If it weren’t for you, she never would have been out there in my place.” “You killed Victoria. I’m going to make your whole family join her in death!” I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back on the day I drank myself into pancreatitis for his sake. This time, my husband ran straight to Victoria, without a moment’s hesitation. He thought he’d made the right choice. But in the end, he was the one on his knees, begging me to come back. … The sharp, stabbing pain in my abdomen jolted me awake. Rain was lashing against the window. A glance at the clock confirmed it. I was reborn. Reborn on the day I drank so much that I gave myself acute pancreatitis. It’s an agonizing, life-threatening illness. Realizing the attack had just begun, I grabbed my car keys and drove to the nearest top-tier hospital. At this hour, only the ER was open. The doctor on duty looked up at my name, frowned, and called out, “Aria?” It was none other than my husband’s college roommate and colleague, Dr. Luke Carter. I didn’t have time for pleasantries. Clutching my stomach, I rasped, “Luke, I drank a lot today. I think it’s pancreatitis. You have to admit me, now.” Having lived this once before, I knew the most critical thing was to get admitted and start an IV. But to my shock, Luke tossed my ID aside, his tone hostile. “Can’t do it.” I was floored. “What do you mean?” “Stop pretending. Jason already told me. You’re not sick.” The disdain on Luke’s face was palpable. “You and Jason are married now. You should trust him. Pulling these kinds of cheap tricks is pathetic.” I knew he’d misunderstood. “Luke, I’m not acting. I really have pancreatitis. Run some tests if you don’t believe me.” His frown deepened. “What do you think this hospital is? A playground? Do you think medical resources are for you to waste? Get out of here. Don’t hold up the other patients.” As he spoke, a line of five or six people had formed behind me. Hearing his words, they started to murmur, their glares like daggers. “If you’re faking, you shouldn’t be in line.” “What is wrong with young people these days? Too much money and nowhere to spend it?” I knew it was pointless. Luke wasn’t going to help me. Amidst the chorus of accusations, I clutched my stomach and stumbled out. Just as I reached the door, Luke’s voice stopped me. “Aria, you know about the incident with Jason and that patient a few days ago, right? Our department head is transferring out. That position was supposed to be his.” His face was a mask of cold warning. “If you want what’s best for Jason, stop embarrassing him here.” I wanted to argue, to defend myself. But another wave of excruciating pain sent a cold sweat down my back. For a pancreatitis patient, every minute without treatment is another minute closer to death. I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the door open and left. Luke was usually a gentle person, but he was always hostile towards me. He still believed I was the other woman who had broken up Jason and Victoria. He thought I’d used some underhanded tactic to steal Jason, to tear apart a match made in heaven. Outside the exam room, it felt like someone was taking a knife to my insides. In my last life, the pancreatitis had hit at this exact same time. Then, I had called my husband, Jason, who was on duty. He had come home immediately to take me to the hospital. But because he left, his first love, Victoria, had gone out to pick up a patient in his place. She’d gotten into an accident on the way and died instantly. Later, Jason found out that Victoria, before she died, had slept with the hospital director to get his disciplinary action revoked. The next day, the hospital did indeed drop the complaint against him. And with her dying breaths, Victoria had been calling his name. That day, Jason locked himself in his room and chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes. When he finally emerged, he seemed back to normal. He smiled and talked to me, drove me to and from work, and cooked me dinner. I thought he had moved on. I thought he had finally realized that as a married man, he shouldn’t be grieving his ex-girlfriend so intensely. But on my mother’s birthday, he volunteered to cook. He poisoned every dish. He tied me to a chair and stabbed me over and over with a scalpel. Blood pooled on the floor around me. I begged him to spare my family. But Jason’s eyes were red with rage. “If I spare them, will that bring Victoria back? You deserve to die, Aria. Why did you have to drink so much that day? Did you know Victoria’s car was going to crash?” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a psychic, that I had no way of knowing what would happen to her. The reason I had drunk so much was because the patient’s family who had complained about Jason was friends with my boss. Jason was up for a promotion to department head, and this complaint would have ruined everything. I couldn’t bear to see his hard work go to waste. I had pulled strings with my boss, arranged a dinner with the family, and drank three bottles of hard liquor before they finally agreed to withdraw the complaint in front of me. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to tell him. But Jason was beyond listening. He shoved the scalpel into my mouth, twisting it violently. “It’s all your fault, you and your damn mouth! If you hadn’t drunk so much, Victoria would still be alive! Your parents are scum for raising a daughter like you! Your whole family can go to hell with her!” My body convulsed with pain, tears mixing with the blood from my open wounds. Finally, when he had tortured me enough, he threw the scalpel aside. He took out a lighter and set the whole house on fire. “Victoria, I’m coming to be with you.” Looking into his love-struck eyes, I realized how foolish I had been. I had known it even as I was drinking myself sick. The reason the usually gentle Jason had gotten into a fight with a patient was because Victoria had been rude to them, and they had insulted her. When Jason found out, he had lost it and beaten the person up. A more violent spasm of pain shattered my thoughts. My stomach hurt so much I could barely stand. Time was life. I couldn’t stay here any longer. I forced myself to the entrance, hoping to catch a cab to another hospital. But the rain was coming down in sheets now, hailstones the size of pigeon eggs hammering against the glass. The sound was terrifying. It was the middle of the night, and with the storm, after ten minutes of waiting on my phone, not a single car had accepted my ride request. I had no choice but to drag myself to the nurses’ station and ask if there were any other doctors on duty. The nurse’s smile vanished the moment she saw my face. She waved me away like a beggar. “No, all the doctors are busy.” “But I saw two doctors in their rooms and no one…” I started, but her cold glare cut me off. I swallowed my words and pleaded, “I’m in a lot of pain. If there are no doctors in the ER, can you call a specialist from one of the wards for a consult?” “No,” she said, her voice laced with disgust. “I told you to stop acting. Dr. Evans already gave instructions. No one is to treat you.” From Luke’s attitude earlier, I knew. Jason must have been reborn, too. That’s why I hadn’t contacted him. But I never thought he would be so cruel, so utterly ruthless as to order the entire hospital not to treat me. Jason was a brilliant doctor, the protégé of the ER department head. If he hadn’t defended Victoria, he would have been the most likely candidate for the next department head. So everyone here listened to him. The pain was getting worse. I bent over, trying to inch my way back to the entrance to try my luck again. But after just a few steps, I heard two nurses laughing. “So that’s Dr. Evans’ little homewrecker. She’s not even that pretty.” “Of course not. I heard she drugged him to get him to prescribe her company’s meds, and he had no choice but to marry her.” “She’s a great actress, though. She really looks like she has pancreatitis.” They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Every word reached my ears. It was only then that I realized how toxic my reputation was in this hospital. Jason and I had indeed met here. I was a pharmaceutical rep, and he was a doctor. At first, I had tried to use him to get my foot in the door. But then, government policies changed, and the market shifted. I lost my job. It was only after that that Jason and I actually started seeing each other. When we met, he and Victoria had already broken up. I never understood why everyone called me the other woman. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. This disease progressed rapidly. If I didn’t get treatment soon, I would actually die. I managed to collapse into a chair, my body wracked with tremors. I was hunched over, unable to stand up at all. My entire back was a mess of numbness and pain. A thought, cold and terrifying, crept into my mind. If this continues, am I going to die? Just then, an older woman noticed something was wrong. She gave me a gentle nudge. “Young lady, are you alright?” I looked up. My pale, ghostly face made her jump back. I was completely limp now. I slid from the chair and crumpled to the floor. “Oh my god!” she shrieked. “Doctor! Doctor, help! Someone’s collapsed over here!” Her piercing cry brought Jason and Victoria, who had just walked in, running over with a pile of things, thinking there was an emergency. Until they saw my face. Jason stopped. He dispersed the onlookers and then looked down at me. “Aria, have you had enough?” I looked up at him. He had a smile on his face, the smile of someone who has narrowly escaped disaster. It was just as I thought. Jason had gone to save Victoria. She stood beside him, looking shy and demure. The chemistry between them was so thick it warmed the air. It made sense. Victoria had never gotten over Jason, and he had come to her rescue at a critical moment. Of course their feelings would have deepened. I wanted to spit a sarcastic retort. But in the face of my own mortality, I had to swallow all my pride. I reached out, my fingers brushing the hem of his white coat. “Jason, I have persistent upper abdominal pain, it’s radiating to my back, and I feel nauseous. Please, just admit me.” I thought he would agree. After all, he knew my condition was real. But he just scoffed. “Aria, you’ve memorized your lines well. Too bad no one gets sick by the textbook.” I couldn’t believe it. “You think I’m faking?” “Even if you’re not, you drank yourself into this state on purpose. It’s not serious.” He was dismissive. “Aria, we doctors hate people like you who abuse their bodies. I’m teaching you a lesson this time, so you’ll learn the consequences of not taking care of yourself. But don’t worry, I won’t let you die.” His words plunged me into despair. Jason. I really am seriously ill. I tried to get up, to find some way to save myself. But the pain had sapped all my strength. I lay on the floor like a beached fish. The pain spread from my abdomen to my heart, then through my nerves. Finally, it tore me apart. Jason had been about to leave with Victoria. But my struggling on the floor caught his attention. He turned back, about to approach me.

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My master, the man I loved, nearly died mastering the Sun-Shattering Strike. To save him, I traded my body for the royal elixir that mended his soul. When he awoke, he vowed to give me the grandest wedding our city had ever seen. Yet on the eve of our vows, he sent the gown I’d embroidered for months to my junior apprentice’s chambers. I found them laughing— “Three days as a pleasure-barge girl… Who knows how many men she entertained?” Caspian’s gaze turned to ice. “Your body is tainted. I am destined for godhood—how can I wed a whore?” He pulled Elara close. “She gave half her life for the elixir. I’ll marry her. At best, you can be my concubine.” I shattered our betrothal crystal and accepted the Crown Prince’s proposal. On the day the royal carriage came, Caspian dragged me out, sneering— “Your Highness, this prostitute dares impersonate the Crown Princess!” 1 The night before my wedding to another. Elara came to my chambers, wearing the gown I had poured my soul into for two months. Her face was a triumphant sneer. “Avalon, your reputation is in ruins. Everyone says you’re a defiled whore. Did you really think you could compete with me for Master Caspian’s heart?” she gloated. “All I had to do was say I was the one who got the elixir, and he believed me. All your desperate explanations just made you look like a pathetic clown.” Her eyes dripped with mockery, casting me as the tragic, defeated lover. She expected tears, a breakdown. Instead, I simply looked at her. “The gown fits you perfectly,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Keep it. A gift from your senior.” After all, I had no use for it anymore. Elara’s jaw dropped. Shock and disbelief warred on her face. “Avalon… why aren’t you fighting?” I gave a bitter smile. For the past six years, everyone in the Mage’s Guild knew I was hopelessly, obsessively in love with Caspian. If another woman so much as walked too close to him, I would throw a jealous fit. My fellow apprentices teased me, calling me Caspian’s “little bride-to-be.” I was a minor noble, a countess of a forgotten house, sent to the Guild by a cruel stepmother. It was Caspian who had soothed my loneliness, who had shown me kindness. I had fallen for him, hard and deep. For him, I had resolved never to return to my family, to dedicate my life to being his wife, to live out our days together within the Guild’s hallowed walls. But Caspian was impatient. His ambition outstripped his skill. He attempted the Sun-Shattering Strike, a forbidden rite of pure power, and it backfired, twisting his magic into a self-consuming fire. Even our Archmage, the head of the Guild, declared him beyond saving. I refused to believe it. I risked everything, fleeing back to the capital, begging the Crown Prince to grant me the one thing that could save him: a vial of undiluted Sun-Elixir from the royal vaults. Even if it meant selling my body to get it. But when I returned, my clothes in disarray, the elixir clutched in my hand, Caspian was saved. He awoke, while I collapsed from exhaustion. And Elara, my ever-present rival, seized her chance. She swore to everyone that she was the one who had procured the cure. And my absence? Several apprentices swore they had seen me during those days, working on a pleasure-barge on the nearby Serpentine River, servicing men. The rumors spread like wildfire. Caspian’s gaze turned colder, then disgusted. I found him with his arms around Elara, whispering, “Avalon’s body is sullied. I walk the path of a true mage. How could I marry a broken vessel like her? It would be a stain on my legacy.” Hearing those words, I had frozen, ice seeping into my bones. But thinking back on it now, it was all my own doing. I had been a fool. Elara, seeing my unnatural calm, didn’t believe it for a second. She deliberately brought Caspian to my courtyard, pressing against him, their bodies entwined in the most intimate display, all for my benefit. I simply averted my gaze and walked past them. “Avalon!” Caspian’s voice was sharp. “If you’re unhappy, just say it. But if you dare disrupt my wedding to Elara tomorrow, I will not be merciful.” I shook my head, my expression placid. “You worry for nothing, Master.” Not only would I not disrupt their wedding, I wouldn’t even be there. But the two of them weren’t finished with me. Elara’s pale hand snaked around Caspian’s neck, her smile a mixture of caution and contempt. “Master, she’s being so quiet. Do you think she’s planning to steal my gown tomorrow and pull some shameless bride-swapping trick?” she simpered. “Otherwise, how could she be so calm? Normally, she would have torn the whole Guild apart by now to stop you from marrying me.” A flicker of guilt crossed Caspian’s face. He hesitated. “Avalon… although your purity is lost and you cannot be my wife, for the sake of our years together… if you truly insist on marrying me, I will take you as a concubine.” “That won’t be necessary.” Caspian stared, dumbfounded. A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t cause you any trouble.” Because I had already accepted the Crown Prince’s proposal. I had just spoken to the Archmage, informing him of my departure from the Guild tonight. In three days, I would be married into the Royal House. I would never have to see them again. “Avalon, in the end, it was Caspian who failed you.” The Archmage sighed, pressing a heavy purse of gold into my hand and offering words of advice. I bowed to him one last time and left the Guild without a backward glance. The next day, Caspian, dressed in his wedding finery, was joking with his fellow mages. “Master Caspian and Elara are a match made in the heavens. If Avalon saw how perfect you look together, she’d surely cause a scene.” “I know, right? Last time, Master Caspian just spoke a few extra words to another apprentice, and Avalon was so angry she didn’t eat all night and smashed the girl’s lantern. A woman that jealous could never bear to see him marry someone else.” Caspian listened in silence, a knowing smile on his lips. As he waited for his bride to finish her preparations, he drank a little too much wine, his eyes occasionally flicking toward my empty courtyard. “What does it matter if she’s jealous? It’s a done deal. Master Caspian is marrying Elara. After all, when his life was on the line, it was Elara who saved him.” “And what was Avalon doing? She ran off to frolic with other men. The sounds from that boat were so loud… who knows how many men had their way with her…” Caspian’s face darkened. He crushed the wine goblet in his hand, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Enough. Avalon is nothing but a broken toy. I wouldn’t take her even if she were offered to me for free. Today is my wedding day with Elara. Speak only of good wishes, not of that faithless woman.” Though he said this, his gaze kept drifting toward my courtyard. But no one emerged. When Elara finally appeared in her crimson gown, Caspian stood up, an irritable edge to his voice. “Where is Avalon?” he demanded. “She’s always full of tricks. Her silence on our wedding day… what is she plotting?” “Master, perhaps we should just ignore her,” Elara suggested sweetly. “She’s probably hiding somewhere, crying because she couldn’t marry you.” “Yes, let’s begin! Don’t miss the auspicious hour!” another apprentice urged. Caspian’s brow was deeply furrowed. He refused to start the ceremony. “Wait.” A strange, inexplicable panic fluttered in his chest. He didn’t know why, but he had to wait. Finally, the Archmage spoke, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. “There is no need to wait. Avalon has left the Guild.” Everyone froze. Caspian looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. “Master, what did you say?” For six years, I had treated the Guild as my only home. Even the year I was so sick I nearly died, I had never spoken of leaving. Caspian’s face paled. “That’s… impossible. What new trick is she playing now? Is she trying to ruin my wedding day for her own satisfaction?” The Archmage shook his head wearily and presented Caspian with a wedding gift from me. “She is truly gone. The child Avalon asked me to give you this.” The moment Caspian opened the small, silken box, the color drained from his face. Inside, two objects rested on a bed of velvet. One was the betrothal crystal, shattered into a dozen pieces. He had given it to me in a moment of passion, swearing it was a family heirloom, passed down to the woman who would be his bride. The other was a letter, sent from a thousand miles away, the year he was on a dangerous mission for the Guild. Gravely wounded and believing he was about to die, he had bitten his own finger and written in his blood: Avalon, if I survive this, I swear I will marry you and protect you for the rest of my life. He had broken his promise. And I had no reason to keep these mementos. “She also said,” the Archmage added, “to wish you a happy marriage.” Caspian stumbled backward, collapsing into his chair. “Avalon is really gone? No… how could that be? She said the Guild was her home. She said she wanted to be buried on the back hill, that she would never leave… never leave me…” Before he could finish, the Archmage cut him off. “Caspian, remember your place.” The old man’s face was stern. “You have chosen to marry Elara. You have no more claim on Avalon. Whether she stays or goes is her own affair. Furthermore, she is still the Countess of Silverwood.” Caspian’s hand tightened around the box, the last traces of color gone from his face. Finally, the day of my true wedding arrived. I donned the phoenix coronet and imperial robes sent by the Prince and stepped into the royal carriage that would take me to the palace. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. “I told you, I’m looking for Avalon! She’s the Countess of Silverwood! Just tell me how to get to her family’s estate!” A jolt went through me. I knew that voice. It was Caspian. I instinctively drew back the curtain, and my eyes met his across the crowded street. “Avalon? It really is you!” Caspian’s face was a thundercloud of rage. He shoved his way through the crowd and stormed toward me, yanking me from the carriage. “Parading around in this wedding gown! Have you no shame left?” he roared. “So this is why you left the Guild! To come here and play these games of feigned indifference! Avalon, you are a broken, sullied thing. Did you really think dressing like this would make me take you as a concubine?” His voice was loud, drawing the stares of the common folk. In our kingdom, a woman’s honor was paramount. To lose it was to invite scorn. His public denouncement immediately drew whispers and pointed fingers.

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The day I planned to propose, my girlfriend stood before our entire company and announced her wedding date—to someone else. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just went to find her, needing an explanation. But I overheard her talking to a friend instead. “Aren’t you afraid doing this will piss off Liam?” “I have no choice. Ethan’s family despises him. If I don’t marry him, they’ll force him to marry some fool. Besides,” she added confidently, “Liam loves me too much. He’d never leave me.” Later, my family arranged a more suitable match for me. As fate would have it, my wedding day was the same as hers. As a bride, she was riddled with anxiety, a terrible premonition hanging over her. She told her bridesmaids to keep a close watch, to make sure I didn’t show up and cause a scene. That’s when one of her bridesmaids said awkwardly, “You didn’t know? Liam’s getting married today, too.” 1 “Mom, I’ll agree to the arranged marriage.” The teacup in my mother’s hand trembled. She looked at me, her face a mask of shock. “Are you absolutely sure, sweetheart?” Her concern was palpable. Just last night, a video of my girlfriend, Ava, accepting another man’s proposal had gone viral. Everyone knew the prestigious Croft family was celebrating an engagement, but the groom wasn’t me, the man she’d been with for eight years. Seeing my silence, my mother’s voice grew urgent. “Liam, marriage is a monumental decision. Please, don’t do this out of spite.” I swallowed the bitterness lodged in my throat and shook my head. “Mom, I’ve just… seen things clearly. You didn’t immediately reject the Croft family’s offer because you believe their daughter is a better match for me than Ava. I trust your judgment.” My mother let out a deep sigh. “The eldest Croft daughter is indeed an exceptional young woman. I’ve heard she’s as kind as she is beautiful, grounded and intelligent. But perhaps you should meet her first, before making a final decision?” “No. You can handle the arrangements. I’m fine with whatever you decide.” After settling things, I had a meal at home before returning to the small apartment I’d bought for myself. I never expected to find Ava there. Hearing the door open, she casually ended her phone call. “You’re back later than usual. A rough day at work?” I slipped off my shoes. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I was just passing by on my way back from a work dinner and thought I’d pop in to see you,” Ava said, her voice as soft and sweet as ever. She moved to embrace me, just like she always did. But as she drew near, I caught the scent of a familiar men’s cologne. It was the one Ethan always wore, his signature scent. A wall of resistance shot up inside me. I subtly sidestepped her embrace, but a wave of sour disappointment washed over me. “You’ve seen me. You can go now.” Ava’s outstretched arms froze in mid-air. A small smile touched her lips. “Oh, Liam, don’t be like this. Weren’t you just complaining a few days ago that I don’t spend enough time with you? I cleared my entire evening just for you.” Yesterday, I was supposed to propose to her. I’d even called her that morning, reminding her to leave work early for our dinner reservation. I waited at the restaurant from daylight until dusk. She never showed. She never even called. Just as the restaurant was closing and I was about to go find her, I received a video from an unknown number. It was Ethan, proposing to Ava in front of their entire office. In the video, their colleagues were cheering, ecstatic. I couldn’t believe it. I rushed to her company, needing to hear her explain it herself. That’s when I overheard the conversation with her best friend. That’s when I realized that in this game of love, I had been made a complete and utter fool. Remembering her words from last night felt like a knife twisting in my heart, the pain suffocating. I looked up at the woman before me, her features so gentle, and my vision blurred with tears. A crushing weight settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Seeing my tears, a flicker of panic crossed Ava’s face. She fumbled to wipe them away. “Liam, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” 2 Growing up, Ava was the neighborhood tomboy—mischievous, rebellious, but with a fierce sense of justice. She couldn’t stand to see anyone bullied. I was the opposite: quiet, introverted, never quite fitting in with the other kids. They found me boring and always left me out. Whenever that happened, Ava would plant her hands on her hips, her cheeks puffed out in indignation, and march right up to them. “Fine, don’t play with him! Who needs you anyway?” Then she’d turn to me, clap me on the shoulder, and grin. “Don’t worry. From now on, I’ve got your back. If they mess with you again, you tell me, and I’ll sort them out!” From that day on, she was my shadow, a little sunbeam warming my lonely world. When we got to college, I finally confessed my feelings for her, and we fell together as naturally as breathing. Our relationship made her even gentler with me. We shared everything. During our happiest moments, she would talk about the future. “You’d better give me the most spectacular proposal, Liam,” she’d tease. “Otherwise, I’m not marrying you.” I never forgot those words. Then, we both joined the student government, and Ethan burst into our lives. He and Ava were in the same major, sharing a world of technical jargon I couldn’t penetrate. At first, she would patiently translate their academic discussions for me. But soon, her patience wore thin. “If you don’t get it, look it up online,” she’d snap. “Or just don’t listen. It’s not your major, it’s useless for you to know.” She and Ethan became inseparable, talking from morning till night, in person and online. For me, she had only a few perfunctory words. Friends warned me to pay attention, to be wary of their connection. I brushed it off. I believed in privacy, even in a relationship. I trusted that she wouldn’t fall for someone else. Reality slapped me hard across the face. That night, Ava didn’t leave. She said she was worried about me. I looked at her for a long time before finally saying, “Do whatever you want.” I went to my room and, just as she was about to follow, I clicked the lock shut. She stood outside the door, her expression complex. After a moment, she said, “Liam, I’ll be right out here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting.” I ignored her. A hot tear fell onto the back of my cold hand, the sensation searing. Ava, I’m done loving you. I woke the next morning with a dull ache in my temples. As I left my room, I saw Ava hastily putting on her coat. “Liam, something urgent came up, I have to go. I’ll text you the restaurant address tonight, we’ll have dinner together.” She was gone before I could even reply, a blur disappearing before my eyes. I pursed my lips and glanced at the sofa where she’d slept. In her haste, she’d left her phone behind. I picked it up, intending to get it to her later. Just then, a notification lit up the screen. Ava never used a passcode. The message was from someone named “Monkey.” It was a photo of Ethan, looking disheveled but smiling gently at the camera from a hospital emergency room. The caption read: “Don’t rush. Drive safe. I’ll wait for you right here.” 3 Now I understood why she’d been in such a hurry. A bitter laugh escaped me. I arranged for a local courier to deliver her phone to her office, then headed to my own job. I’d started at my family’s company right after graduation. My father, wanting to test my mettle, had me start from the bottom. Through my own efforts, I’d since become a department manager. As soon as I arrived, my assistant handed me a project proposal. “Mr. Hayes, this needs your attention. All the groundwork is done, it just needs your signature.” I took it and saw it was a collaboration with Ava’s family company, Hayes Industries. I had no memory of it. “Has my father approved this?” “No,” my assistant replied, momentarily flustered. “You said before that unless it was a major partnership, Hayes Industries should always be our first choice.” I remembered then. I had said that. I’d thought our families would be one, so it didn’t matter who profited more. Besides, it’s not easy for a woman to run a corporation. As her boyfriend, I felt it was my duty to support her. “Let this one go,” I said. “But from now on, prioritize what’s best for our company. We go with the most advantageous partner.” After a long day of work, I decided to check out a new Chinese restaurant that had just opened. When I got there, it was packed. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Hayes, you’re here for dinner too?” I turned to see Ethan and Ava sitting at a table, smiling. When Ava saw me, her expression froze for a second before she quickly recovered. “I was just about to call you to join us! I can’t believe you’re already here. Come, sit with us.” She waved over a waiter for another set of cutlery. I hadn’t eaten much for lunch and was starving. So I stayed. “Mr. Hayes,” Ethan said, “I remember you like spicy food. Let’s order a few more dishes for you.” I glanced at the table. Everything was mild. Both Ava and I loved spicy food. She used to say that a dish without chili had no soul, that eating it was like a death sentence. Now, faced with a table of bland food, she didn’t bat an eye. She shot Ethan a playful glare. “I think you’re the one who wants it. Don’t you remember what the doctor said today? You can only have mild food for now.” Ethan just smiled sheepishly. “I’m paying tonight, I just wanted to cater to our guest. But, I’ll listen to my little boss. Whatever you say, goes.” Ava laughed, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “What ‘little boss’? That sounds terrible, don’t call me that again!” Her words were a reprimand, but her tone was fond. Watching them, the heart that had been shattered into a million pieces felt nothing at all. A moment later, Ava’s phone rang. “You two go ahead and eat. I have to take this.” As she walked away, the smile on Ethan’s face faded, replaced by a provocative stare directed at me. “You know, Liam, I’m actually impressed. You know Ava and I are getting married, yet you still cling to her. You’ve got some nerve.” Catching the disdain in his voice, I looked up. “Is stealing someone else’s girlfriend something to be proud of? Something worth showing off in public?” “You—” Before he could finish, thick smoke began billowing from the restaurant’s kitchen. Someone screamed, “Fire!” The bustling restaurant descended into chaos. Everyone scrambled to escape. I stood up, ready to leave, when a figure slammed into me. Before I could regain my balance, I heard a familiar, panicked voice. “Ethan, let’s go! It’s a fire!” Ava didn’t stop. She grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him out of the building. Once outside, staring at the smoke pouring from the restaurant, her heart pounded with the thrill of survival. She threw her arms around him. “Thank God… thank God we’re okay…” Then, she seemed to remember something. She spun around and saw me, standing a short distance away, watching them with cold eyes. Her voice caught. “Liam, I… I was just so scared. I didn’t mean to not call for you…” “I know,” I cut her off, my voice frigid. In that moment, as she pulled him away, I knew with absolute clarity: the girl who once promised to protect me forever was gone. Seeing I wasn’t angry, she visibly relaxed and offered to drive me home. “No, thanks. Ethan looks pretty shaken up. You should probably take him home first.” 4 In the days that followed, I didn’t contact Ava. I was busy preparing for my own wedding. I received a message from the jeweler and used my lunch break to pick up the custom-made wedding rings. They were originally meant for Ava, for a proposal that would never happen. As fate would have it, just as I stepped into the store, Ethan walked in right behind me. He saw the small, elegant box in my hand and looked at the designer with an air of arrogance. “I want to see the ring he’s holding.” “I’m sorry, sir. This was a custom design for Mr. Hayes. It belongs to him.” Ethan scoffed. “A custom ring? Acting like you’re about to get married…” His voice trailed off as a dark realization seemed to dawn on him. “You’re planning to crash my wedding with this, aren’t you?” Seeing the madness in his eyes, I couldn’t be bothered to engage. “If you’re sick, get help. Don’t come here and act insane.” I turned to leave with the box. Suddenly, he lunged. Before I could react, he ripped the box open, threw the rings on the floor, and began stomping on them with his heel. That wasn’t enough. He rushed to the counter, grabbed a small mallet, and started smashing them with all his might. “Liam, you will not ruin my wedding! I’ll destroy your rings, and then we’ll see how you plan to crash anything!” “Ethan, are you crazy?”

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The moment my inner succubus awakened was the moment my boyfriend, Ethan, dumped me. I was a mess, crouched on the sidewalk and sobbing. But not over him. I was crying because of the ache—a deep, unfamiliar torment that had taken root in my very core. Ethan shot me an irritated look and grabbed his roommate. “Jax, can you handle her? I’ve got places to be.” Jax just grunted and nodded. He sauntered over, his shadow falling over me. “Lily,” he said, his voice low. “What’s it going to take to make you stop crying?” I clutched my skirt, terrified he’d see the fluffy white tail that had just sprouted at the base of my spine. Crap, my ears were starting to push through, too, a tingling heat spreading at my temples. Biting my lip, I could only whisper the one thing my body was screaming for. “A kiss.” Jax’s eyebrow shot up. “What kind of kiss?” I pressed my hands to my head, trying to keep my twitching ears hidden. “The kind,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “that makes everything… better.” 1 It was an agony. The newly sprouted rabbit tail was a constant, irritating presence. But worse, far worse, was the nameless, carnal tide surging within me. I wanted Ethan to kiss me, to hold me. To do… something more. But five minutes ago, he had suddenly broken up with me. At first, I was just stunned. It wasn’t until I saw Renee standing a short distance away that it all clicked into place. His unforgettable ex-girlfriend was back, ready to reclaim her territory. “Alright, Lily, I’ve said my piece. Let’s just leave it at that,” Ethan said, his patience wearing thin. He kept glancing back at Renee. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been forcing it for six months. This ‘cute’ thing you’ve got going on? It’s just not for me.” “Being with you is like… like babysitting.” “You’re adorable, you’re pretty, but you just don’t… spark that feeling for me. You know? The feeling of being in love.” “I still prefer someone like Renee. Someone with more… womanly charm.” 2 I stared at him, my mind blank, trying to find the words to defend myself. It was true, I had been childlike before. But that was because my kind—the succubi—don’t awaken into our true selves until we turn twenty. Until then, our development is almost completely arrested. Today, of all days, I had been planning to share the good news with him. I had finally grown up. I could finally wear the beautiful, sexy slip dresses I’d always dreamed of. I could finally develop the alluring curves of a woman. But I never got the chance to tell him. Instead, he’d cut me down with those hurtful words. A pang of real sadness hit me, and my eyes, true to my nature, turned red as a rabbit’s. Ethan’s frown deepened. “There you go again. Your eyes get red at the drop of a hat, like someone’s bullying you.” A fresh wave of indignation washed over me. My true form was a rabbit; we were born with red eyes. “Look, I’ve said what I needed to say. I’m leaving. You should head back to your dorm,” Ethan said, turning to go. But then, a wave of agony so intense buckled my knees. I collapsed onto the curb and started to cry. It wasn’t because of the breakup. It wasn’t because of his cruel words. It was the ache. An unbearable torment was consuming me from the inside out. The blood in my veins felt like it was boiling. My mouth was desert-dry, and my heart hammered against my ribs at a terrifying pace. My mother had told me that after a succubus comes of age, we need to feed on passion and desire to survive. The simple kisses and cuddles I’d known before were no longer enough. Our needs were ten times stronger than a normal human’s. That’s why, she’d said, it was best to be in a relationship. With, well, one or more steady, strong, and capable… boyfriends. 3 Through my tears, I looked at Ethan. He was tall and well-built. Both my mother and I had been quite satisfied with him. Just yesterday, she had given me a few… pamphlets. For my “education.” I’d studied them diligently, poring over the illustrations late into the night, which led to a series of chaotic, feverish dreams. I had woken up feeling completely drained. And now, the meal I’d been starving for had just flown the coop. Where was I supposed to find another ready-made, capable boyfriend on such short notice? Ethan watched me sob, his expression shifting from guilt to outright annoyance. He glanced back at Renee, who was losing her patience. “Ethan, are you done yet?” she yelled. “What are you doing, babysitting? Get a move on!” When Ethan spoke again, his voice was cold and hard. “Honestly, Lily, crying won’t work. I’m not going to feel sorry for you.” I bit the soft flesh of my lip, my red-rimmed eyes pleading with him. “Ethan, can we please just break up tomorrow?” Just let me get through tonight. I was terrified my rabbit ears would pop out any second. I could just imagine being captured and carted off to a lab for “live specimen research” by some shadow government agency. Ethan scoffed. “Wow, Lily. You’re really that desperate, huh?” My love for him was, in truth, quite shallow. It was purely about his looks and his physique. Time was slipping away. My body temperature was soaring, and my consciousness was starting to blur at the edges. “Ethan, I’m begging you.” “No chance.” He was clearly fed up. Just then, his eyes landed on a familiar figure, and an idea sparked. “Jax.” Ethan crossed the distance in a few strides and pulled the man over. 4 “Hey man, can you handle her for me? I’ve got a date.” Jax was wearing a hoodie, headphones around his neck. His face was stunningly handsome, but his expression was a mask of cold indifference. He was tall—taller than Ethan—with long legs and broad shoulders. As for his build… I remembered a time I went to find Ethan at his off-campus apartment. Jax had just come back from a run. He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of light gray sweatpants. His muscles were sculpted perfection. And that… bulge. I couldn’t help but swallow. Maybe it’s just the gray fabric, I thought desperately. Maybe it just makes things look bigger. Jax took off his headphones and cast a cool, downward glance at me. My eyes immediately fixated on his hands, and I couldn’t look away. So long. I mean his fingers, of course. And so strong. I’m still talking about his fingers. That day in the apartment, I’d almost tripped and fallen off the sofa. Jax had caught me and lifted me back up with just one hand. And even though I hadn’t gone through my “second puberty” yet, I was still five-foot-three! “Never mind, forget I asked,” Ethan started, “I know you don’t like getting involved in other people’s business.” But then Jax surprised him. “Sure.” “You’ll do it?” Jax nodded, his face still an unreadable, almost ascetic mask. Ethan frowned again, but Renee was already fuming. “Ethan, if you don’t go now, I’m leaving without you!” “Alright, man, thanks. Just make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, okay?” Ethan said hurriedly. As he walked away, he cast one last look back at me. But I didn’t notice. My gaze was completely glued to Jax. 5 Ethan and Renee drove off. Jax tucked his headphones into his pocket and walked over to me. I was still a small, huddled ball on the ground, my hands wrapped behind my back, trying to hide the little bump my tail made under my skirt. Jax stood very close. I could smell him. It was completely different from Ethan’s cologne. This was a potent wave of pure pheromones, an almost overwhelming scent that acted like an aphrodisiac for my kind. My head spun. Jax looked down at me. “Lily, what’s it going to take to make you stop crying?” Oh, his voice is incredible. How had I never noticed how good his voice sounded? My mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts. I loved the way he said my name. Would it sound huskier, more seductive, when we were kissing? I felt my ears starting to tingle, threatening to emerge. I quickly pressed my hands to the sides of my head. Oh god, I’m losing control. I bit my lip and begged him. “A kiss.” 6 Jax seemed to raise a single eyebrow. “What kind of kiss?” I gnawed on my lower lip, my teeth teasing the soft flesh as I tried to remember Ethan’s kisses, tried to recall the drawings and descriptions in the pamphlets. The only way to suppress my transformation was through… satisfaction. Even though I wasn’t human, I still felt a blush creep up my neck. Covering my ears, I whispered, “The kind that makes me feel… good. Okay?” A ghost of a smile seemed to play on Jax’s lips. He leaned down, his strong, straight nose almost touching mine. “Lily.” “Yes?” “Do you have any idea what it means to ‘make you feel good’?” I blinked my red, swollen eyes. My mind was a complete blank. I couldn’t think. He was too close. His breath brushed against the tip of my nose—scorching, intense. That intoxicating scent of his enveloped me like a thick fog. My blood was officially boiling, threatening to burst from my veins. And most importantly, seeing Jax this close… he was so handsome it made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I tilted my face up and kissed him. I didn’t forget to close my eyes. Ethan had always said my eyes were too big, too innocent. He claimed it gave him a guilty conscience when we kissed, so he’d made me promise to always keep them shut. I was a good girl; I remembered that rule perfectly. Jax didn’t push me away. Instead, after a brief, charged second, he pulled me up from the ground, pinned me against a nearby tree, and took complete control. 7 Jax, it turned out, wasn’t a very experienced kisser. A few times, he accidentally bit me. I let out a small whimper to signal him. “Jax, don’t bite.” “Have you, like, never kissed a girl before?” “You’re not doing it right. Just open your mouth…” “Lily.” Jax’s scorching palm suddenly cupped the back of my neck. His breathing was ragged, a soft pant against my ear. “Again.” This time, his kiss was deep and overwhelming, as if he meant to devour me whole. My tongue grew numb under his relentless assault. My mind went blank, and my body went so limp in his arms I could barely stand. Until his large hand moved down my back and pressed against my tail. “Lily?” The haze of desire in Jax’s eyes was tinged with a faint surprise. I almost screamed. My brain, for once, worked at lightning speed. “It’s a toy! Can you, um, not touch it, please?” Jax’s hand suddenly pressed down harder. I could feel his displeasure radiating off him. “Lily,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You’re full of surprises.” He nipped my lip gently. “Turns out you’re not so innocent after all.” 8 I had no explanation, so I just mumbled incoherently and tried to distract him. I hooked my arms around his neck, kissing his lips, his jaw, the sharp line of his throat. My goal was to get him so lost in passion that he’d forget all about my tail. It worked. Jax pulled me flush against him, crushing me into his embrace, and responded with a fierce intensity of his own. It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that I finally pushed back. “Jax… no more.” “That’s enough, my head is spinning.” “Really, no more. I feel… better now. Really. Can you please stop?” The tail had vanished, and my ears were quiet again. I tried to push the man away, desperate to get back to my dorm. I needed a shower. I needed to change my clothes, from the inside out. Everything felt uncomfortably tight, like I was about to burst. “Um, thank you. For that,” I said, clutching my aching chest and giving him a sincere bow. It was a genuine thank you. “It’s getting late, and I have an early class tomorrow. I should get going.” I turned to flee, but Jax’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “You’re just leaving?” I was surprised. “Is there something else?” “You got what you wanted,” Jax said, his voice now a husky rasp that was impossibly seductive. “I didn’t.” “So… what now?” “What do you think?” I thought about it carefully. My mother had said that for the first six months after awakening, the ‘heat’ would come every other day. I needed a regular partner. I bit my lip and gave Jax a serious, appraising look. Honestly, there probably wasn’t a more suitable man out there. “Well… how about we meet again tomorrow? Same time, same place?” Jax stared at me for a long moment before nodding. “Okay. Tomorrow night. Don’t be late.” 9 None of my old clothes fit anymore, including my underwear. Thankfully, my mom had prepared new clothes for me in a larger size. The next day, before our meeting, I showered and changed into one of the new outfits. It was a form-fitting dress that clung to my new curves. I looked in the mirror and felt a little shy. My roommate suddenly ran over and pinched my side. “Holy crap, you’re not flat-chested anymore!” she shrieked. “You little sneak, what have you been eating to suddenly get so… stacked?” I couldn’t explain, of course, so I just fumbled for an excuse. “Are you wearing makeup? What shades are your eyeshadow and blush? You look so… sultry.” “I’ll share when I get back!” I called over my shoulder. The truth was, I wasn’t wearing any makeup. After the awakening, a succubus naturally becomes more beautiful. Especially after… sampling the pleasures of the flesh. Our beauty would gradually reach its peak. This was just the beginning. But as I was about to head downstairs, I felt a strange shift in my body. It was still early. Why was the reaction so intense already? I quickly pulled out the pamphlet my mom had given me. After a succubus awakens, she feeds on passion and desire. For the first three months, in particular, the need is insatiable and grows daily. If it is not satisfied, she risks exposing her true form at any time. Therefore, it is best for her and her regular partner to… go all the way. As soon as possible. I froze. I rushed downstairs. It was still early, and Jax hadn’t arrived yet. I paced around anxiously, and in my distraction, I bumped into someone. “Lily?” It was Ethan’s voice, full of surprise. 10 I was just as surprised. I quickly stepped back. “Oh, sorry about that.” “Are you here for me?” Ethan asked, his eyes wide with unconcealed astonishment as he took in my new look. “You look… really good dressed like this.” “No, I’m not here for you.” As my anxiety spiked, my eyes started to turn red again. Ethan just smiled, shaking his head with a knowing look. “Lily, I hate clingy girls. Don’t be like this.” “I’m not! I’m waiting for someone.” “Right. You wait, then. I’m leaving.” He clearly didn’t believe me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Still stubborn, I see.” He took a call from Renee and walked away. By now, I could barely stand. The ache was back, fiercer than before. I had no choice but to squat on the ground and wait. When Jax finally arrived, I scrambled to my feet with a joyful cry. “You’re here!” But my legs gave out from under me, and I almost collapsed. He quickly reached out to steady me, but I stumbled forward, my face landing right against his waistband. Oh. So it wasn’t just the gray sweatpants. My cheeks burned, and a wave of heat washed through me. “Lily, are you okay?” “Jax,” I gasped, clutching his arm. My palm was slick with sweat, my fingertips trembling. “I… I want you.” He seemed to freeze for a second. But I was already throwing myself at him, pressing my body against his. We fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, a seamless lock and key. Jax’s entire body went rigid. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently, and his jawline clenched. “Lily.” He gripped my hand, his voice a low, hoarse whisper, trying to coax me. “Be good. We can’t do it here.” 11 I didn’t understand. I snuggled into his chest and tilted my head back, my face flushed with desire, my eyes misty and filled with confusion. “Why not here?” There were trees, there was grass, and the sky was getting dark. It seemed perfect. Jax’s long fingers brushed against the side of my face, intending to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. But his skin was so much cooler than mine. It felt incredible. And his scent… that faint, crisp smell of fresh grass that we rabbits loved so much. I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t stop myself. I turned my head and gently bit his finger, my tongue darting out to taste him. It was just as delicious as I had imagined. “Lily.” Jax’s voice dropped even lower, the end of the word trembling. He frowned, trying to pull his hand back, but I held on, sinking my teeth in a little deeper. A sharp, ragged breath escaped his lips, a low groan from deep in his throat. “You’re a girl,” he rasped. “You can’t… do this.” He finally managed to pull his hand free, his knuckles now marked with the faint imprint of my teeth. He glanced at it for a second before looking away, but I saw his throat work again, a hard swallow. The body pressed against mine grew even hotter, his muscles coiling tight. “Are you sick? Should I take you to a hospital?” he asked, his voice strained as he reached up to feel my forehead. “I’m not sick, Jax.” I grabbed his wrist, my voice a soft, pleading whisper. “What can’t a girl do?” He looked down at me, his deep eyes swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “You can’t just throw yourself at a man.” “You can’t chase after him, begging for kisses.” “And you definitely can’t press yourself against him like this.” “Why not?” I asked again. Animal instincts are simple. When you’re hungry, you eat. When you’re tired, you sleep. And when you’re in heat, you find a mate. Anytime, anywhere. Why were humans so complicated? “Lily, you’re a girl…” he started, frowning. I suddenly pushed him away. “I get it.” “What do you get?” “You don’t like me,” I said, a wave of frustration and disappointment washing over me. “You’re just like Ethan. You don’t want to kiss me or hold me.” I hated that my true form was a stupid, clumsy rabbit. Not like my sister, a glamorous and bewitching white fox. She could make any man in the world fall at her feet. Unfortunately, my sister was a rare anomaly in our clan—a hopeless romantic, completely and utterly lost to the idea of love. “Since you don’t like me, I won’t bother you anymore,” I said, my voice flat. 12 I took a step back. Looking at Jax, I felt a pang of regret. He really did look delicious. But you can’t force someone to want you. And I couldn’t wait. I didn’t have any more time. I had to find another guy. I remembered Ethan had a friend in a lower year. Every time he saw me, his eyes would light up. He definitely wouldn’t mind if I kissed and hugged him. Plus, he was a great athlete. Going all the way would surely be no problem for him. My mind made up, I decided to act immediately. “Well, I’m going to go find someone else. I’m sorry about yesterday and today.” I gave Jax a quick bow and turned to leave. But he was faster. His hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Lily.” He loomed over me, his handsome lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Why was he so angry all of a sudden? I looked up at him, confused. “Jax, is there something else?” “Who are you going to find?” he demanded. “Let me guess: if Ethan had dragged some other guy over yesterday, you would have asked him to kiss you until you felt better, too?” I immediately shook my head. “Of course not!” The harsh lines of his face seemed to soften, just a fraction. “He’d have to be tall and handsome, at least,” I added honestly. “I’m very superficial.” “Lily!” He was angry again, his expression frighteningly cold. I shrank back, intimidated. And just then, my tail popped out. Alarms blared in my head. Today’s dress was skintight; there was nothing to hide it. I was on the verge of tears. Without thinking, I threw myself back into Jax’s arms. “Jax, I’m out of time,” I cried, my voice desperate. “I’m just going to ask you one more time.” I bit my lip and looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with a raw, seductive plea. “Will you, or will you not, go all the way with me?” My veins are going to explode. Please. Don’t say no again. Honestly, I really didn’t want to find another guy. Jax slowly raised his hand. His long, elegant fingers cupped my scorching cheeks. In the twilight, his handsome face was like a beautifully carved piece of jade, glowing with a cool light. But the emotions churning in his eyes were dead serious. “I only do those things with my future wife.” “Then can I be your wife?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even think. Jax stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, a slow smile spread across his lips. “Okay.”

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