Category: English

My sister took credit for a rescue I performed and was adopted by a wealthy family from the city. I studied hard, got into college, and graduated, eager to reunite with her. But she locked me in a basement and starved me to death. “Only when you’re dead,” she’d said, “will the credit for that rescue truly be mine. Go to your grave with that secret, dear sister.” What she didn’t know was that I had already reconnected with my billionaire biological parents. I never wanted a share of that glory. I opened my eyes and I was back at the moment of the rescue. 1 “Help… help me…” The moment my eyes opened, I saw a middle-aged man struggling in the lake, his body slowly sinking. The familiar scene, my own thin, frail body—I knew I had been reborn. Without a second thought, I plunged into the water, swimming with all my might toward the drowning man. I knew who he was. A wealthy tycoon from the capital, Ashton Stark. He was here sketching and had accidentally fallen into the lake. In my previous life, I was the one who saved him. But while I was gone changing my wet clothes, my sister seized the opportunity to claim my heroic deed as her own. We were both orphans from the same home. To repay the favor, Mr. Stark adopted my sister, Maya, and took her back to the city with him. I hadn’t cared then. I believed an older sister should always yield to the younger one. I let her take the credit and even wrote her many letters after she left, all of which went unanswered, disappearing into a void. It wasn’t until my junior year of college, when I found my real parents, that I went to the city to see her, worried she wasn’t doing well. Instead, I walked straight into my own grave. I still remember the bone-chilling cold of the basement, the utter despair of being trapped with no one to call for help. And outside the iron door, Maya’s cold laughter. “You came looking for me because you wanted to tell Dad the truth about the rescue, didn’t you? Well, too bad! The credit is mine and mine alone!” “As for you, you can take that secret to your grave!” Only in my dying moments did I understand. Maya had never seen me as a sister. She despised me, looked down on me, saw me as a stain on her life that had to be erased. Since I’ve been given a second chance, I’m taking back all my kindness. As for all the evil she did in my last life, I’ll be returning it to her twofold in this one. Right now, I was only twelve. Saving a grown man nearly depleted all my strength; I almost drowned myself. After finally dragging Mr. Stark ashore, I gritted my teeth and performed CPR, pressing on his stomach until he coughed up water. Once I was sure he was breathing, I collapsed beside him, gasping for air. That’s when Maya ran over. Back then, she wasn’t Maya Stark. We both used the director’s surname. I was Chloe Reed, and she was Maya Reed. Maya was two years younger than me. She covered her mouth in feigned shock. “Chloe, you saved someone?!” I was too busy catching my breath to answer her. Her gaze fell on Mr. Stark, sizing him up before she recited the exact same lines as in my past life. “Chloe, your clothes are soaked. You should go back and change. I’ll watch him for you.” She wanted me out of the way so she could take the credit when he woke up. This time, I wouldn’t let her have her way. 2 “Maya,” I said, my voice weak, “I’m too tired to walk back. Could you get me a towel?” “Oh…” Maya was clearly reluctant. She tried to change the subject. “Chloe, who is this man? He’s not dead, is he?” Who he was didn’t matter. What mattered were his expensive clothes and the gold watch on his wrist. I knew what Maya was thinking. Just then, Mr. Stark groaned and began to stir. An idea sparked in Maya’s mind. She rushed to the lake, splashed water all over herself, and then ran back to help Mr. Stark sit up. Her small face was a mask of concern. “Are you alright? You nearly drowned! It’s a good thing I saved you!” I watched her performance with cold detachment. I’d missed this scene in my past life; I had to get a good look this time. She was a natural. Her hair was soaked, her expression flawless. “I wanted to call 911 for you, but your phone is waterlogged, and I don’t have one…” She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper. “Our orphanage is nearby. Why don’t I take you there to rest for a bit?” I had caught my breath. I got up and helped Mr. Stark from the other side, adding, “Yes, you can change into some dry clothes at the home. You don’t want to catch a cold.” Mr. Stark looked between the two of us. “You two saved me?” Maya gritted her teeth. She desperately wanted all the credit, but I was still here. She had no choice but to nod. “Yes, we pulled you out of the lake together.” “Thank you. You’re my saviors!” Mr. Stark thanked us profusely as we helped him towards the orphanage. On the way, Maya was eager to impress him, fawning over him constantly. She asked if he was tired, offered him a piece of candy, playing the part of the innocent, sweet child to perfection. I remained silent, only offering a kind smile whenever he looked my way. When we reached the orphanage and the director took over, Maya and I both breathed a sigh of relief. But it wasn’t long before the director called us back. I knew the moment had come. The adoption. Since Mr. Stark already had a son, he could only adopt one more child. So the director asked us, who wanted to be adopted? Maya immediately rushed forward and hugged Mr. Stark’s leg. “Mr. Stark, please adopt me! I’ll study hard and be a good girl. More than anything, I want a family!” Mr. Stark looked at me. I lowered my head, my voice filled with sadness. “Then you should adopt Maya, Mr. Stark. She always says the orphanage is a horrible place. This is her chance to leave.” I turned to walk away, but “accidentally” stumbled and fell. The director rushed over to help me up. “Chloe, what’s wrong with your leg?” I whispered, “Mr. Stark is so tall and heavy. I used up all my strength saving him. I haven’t recovered yet.” “Oh, that’s not right!” I feigned panic and quickly added, “I mean, Maya and I saved Mr. Stark together! We swam in the lake and pulled him out together!” The director, always straightforward, blurted out, “Since when does Maya know how to swim?” In that instant, Mr. Stark’s face darkened. In my past life, worried about Maya, I had thoroughly investigated Mr. Stark. I knew he was a kind and upright man who couldn’t stand lies and deceit. Now that her lie was exposed, how could she possibly be adopted? Sure enough, Maya’s face fell. She stared at me, her almost-crying face filled with venom. I just raised an eyebrow at her. It’s just acting, isn’t it? I can do that, too. 3 In the end, Mr. Stark adopted me. But he also promised to sponsor Maya, covering her living and educational expenses, and even offering her a job in the future. It was a happy ending for everyone—except Maya. Soon, Mr. Stark’s assistant arrived at the orphanage to handle the paperwork. It was time for me to leave. The director and the other children came to see me off. Maya, feigning reluctance, clung to my hand. She stared at me, her grip tight. “Sister, I never knew you were this kind of person. Willing to abandon even me just to escape this dump.” I smiled faintly. “I just told the truth, Maya. And I never knew you were the kind of person who would lie about saving someone just to be adopted by a rich man.” “You…” She gritted her teeth and huffed, her fists clenched. “So what if you’re adopted? Mr. Stark is sponsoring me, too. Sooner or later, I’ll come find you!” “You’re just moving to a big city. You probably won’t even be able to adjust. You’ll be sent back in a few days!” “Did you hear me? You…” She was still shouting, but I had already turned my back on her, leaving her with a dismissive wave. The road ahead was long. I was curious to see how she would navigate it this time. I went to the capital with Mr. Stark and changed my name to Chloe Stark. Mr. Stark’s wife had undergone a hysterectomy after a difficult birth, so they only had one son, a year younger than me, named Leo Stark. On my first day at the Stark’s, Leo threw a snake on my bed. But I just grabbed the snake and threw it right back in his face. After that, Leo never dared to mess with me again. He obediently called me “sister.” Now, I had the perfect conditions I never had in my past life. I transferred to a top junior high school, had a private driver, and caring adoptive parents. I was like a newly sprouted sapling, greedily absorbing nutrients and growing. In my past life, I hadn’t found my biological parents until my junior year of college. At this point, they were still abroad, so I wasn’t in a hurry to reconnect. With the memories of my past life and the hard work of this one, I quickly became the top student in my school, a position I maintained until high school graduation. My adoptive parents adored me, and even Leo genuinely accepted me as his sister. I remembered my adoptive mother divorcing my father during my high school years in my past life, but in this life, they were exceptionally loving. Our family of four lived a peaceful and warm life. After the college entrance exams, I chose a local top university and visited my family regularly. Life was orderly and on track. Until the summer before my sophomore year. I went home to visit my parents for the weekend and saw a long-unseen figure in the living room. Maya was wearing a delicate slip dress, her face lightly made up. She greeted me with a provocative tone. “Sister, long time no see.”

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The senior trip after graduation was where I met Ethan. It was like lightning striking kindling. I fell for him so hard it was almost a death wish. And it was, in a way. It ended when he threw a positive pregnancy test in front of my father. “Mr. Albright,” he’d said, his voice cold and steady, “your daughter is pregnant. The child is mine. And I’m leaving her.” Just like that, Ethan Thorne vanished from my world. It turned out our entire relationship had been nothing but a means to avenge his first love. After that day, my father died. My mother lost her mind. Ten years later, I met Ethan again. 1 I’ve been drinking. Come get me. Got two friends with me. The text was from Marcus. Okay, I typed back, adding a string of hearts and kissing emojis. Marcus is in his forties, but his needs are still… intense. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be coming home tonight. After telling Leo to finish his homework and put himself to bed, I left. Leo is nine now. He’s a good boy. He can sleep at home alone, make his own breakfast, and get himself to school without me. I couldn’t find a parking spot near the hotel. Marcus’s phone was off. I had no choice but to park on the street and walk to the address he’d sent. I heard his booming voice before I even reached the entrance. “Stunning, right? Great body, never complains. Eight grand a month. Cleaner than a hooker, less hassle than a girlfriend. And she comes whenever I call, faster than an Uber.” I pretended I hadn’t heard him talking about me. “Marcus,” I said, my voice even. He spun around. Seeing me standing there, a flash of discomfort crossed his face. He cleared his throat and made the introductions. “This is my old friend, Ethan Thorne, and his fiancée, Rachel.” He gestured toward me. “And this is… my, uh… friend, Valerie Albright.” “A pleasure, Miss Albright.” Ethan shook my hand, his grip firm and polite. Rachel just snorted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The official girlfriends and wives—they always looked down on me. I never thought I’d see Ethan again in this lifetime. Ten years had stripped away his boyishness, replacing it with the polished confidence of a successful man. In those first few years, I used to fantasize about this moment every single day. How would I react? Would I be incandescent with rage? Would I hate him so much that I’d slap him, or sink my teeth into his flesh? But time and hardship have a way of sanding down all emotion. Seeing him again, all I could manage were two quiet words. “Hello.” 2 They had all been drinking heavily. The car filled with the sour stench of alcohol. On the way over, I’d already stopped to buy three bottles of yogurt drinks and some hangover pills. “See? My Valerie is so thoughtful,” Marcus boasted to Ethan. I’d been with Marcus for three years. He wasn’t a bad man, just had a big mouth. He owned a small advertising agency. He liked to call himself a CEO, but he wasn’t rolling in money. Being able to keep me for eight thousand a month was a point of pride for him. I didn’t see it as an insult. I never got angry about it. In the rearview mirror, I saw Rachel frown, her hand pressed against her stomach. At a red light, I handed her a disposable heat pack. “This might help.” It was only then that Ethan seemed to notice his fiancée’s discomfort. He asked her what was wrong, then had me stop at a pharmacy to buy her some medicine. Rachel’s house was the closest, so she was the first one out. Maybe it was the heat pack, but the initial hostility in her eyes was gone. She thanked me politely and said goodbye. She was pretty, the kind of girl you could tell was raised in a good family. The fact that we dropped her off in a gated community of civil servants’ homes only confirmed it. With just the three of us left in the car, Marcus started getting handsy. He was always like this after a few drinks, acting as if no one else could see, his hand creeping up my thigh. Ethan’s phone rang. “Yeah, I know. Okay, I’m on my way.” He hung up, his voice apologetic. “Marcus, my old man wants me to come over. Would you mind if your friend gave me a ride?” He seemed to know, with absolute certainty, that Marcus wouldn’t come along. When we reached Marcus’s apartment complex, he pulled me into a hug, his hands roaming over my body one last time. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath making me flinch. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Marcus, or the impending solitude with Ethan. 3 On the way to Ethan’s family home, he was silent for so long I almost forgot he was in the back seat. The truth is, I knew where the old house was. We had once kissed in front of its ivy-covered iron gate, a desperate, breathless tangle of limbs. He had cupped my face in his hands. “Valerie, can you feel how much I like you?” If it was all an act, why were his eyes filled with starlight? It was a real loss to the world of theater that he hadn’t pursued a career on the stage. A soft chuckle came from the back seat. “Valerie, are you really this cheap? You graduated from a top-tier prep school. Go ask your classmates if any of them would be caught dead earning less than twenty grand a month. And you sell yourself for a measly eight?” I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? That thanks to him, my father, upon learning of my unwed pregnancy, had gone out drinking, stumbled into traffic, and been killed? That my mother, unable to bear the shock, had lost her mind? That I had never made it to my first day of college, my admission rescinded? He would be thrilled to know all that. He hated my family that much. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. When I didn’t respond, Ethan kicked the back of my seat. “Say something, damn it!” Fearing an accident, I pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Ethan,” I said, my voice weary, “what do you want me to say?” 4 The soft click of the door closing still woke Leo. I looked up to see him standing by his bedroom door, clutching a fruit knife, his small body tense and alert. A wave of sorrow washed over me. While I was beneath another man, while I was at the hospital with my mother, this was how my son spent his nights—alone and terrified. “Mom!” A smile broke across his face, and he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. For so long, I thought of Leo as the symbol of all my suffering. If my father hadn’t died, my parents would have surely taken me to a clinic to end the pregnancy. But he was gone. Both my parents had lost their own parents early in life and had no siblings. If it hadn’t been for my father’s students, his funeral would have been a desolate affair. After the funeral, my mother started talking about suicide constantly. In her lucid moments, she would beat me, screaming that I was a shameless whore who had killed my father. Soon, her lucid moments became rarer. She ran out of the house and attacked a neighbor. We paid a hefty sum in medical bills, and with what little savings we had left, I admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. There, she was diagnosed with kidney failure. During a brief period of clarity, she learned of her diagnosis. Not wanting to be a burden, she threw herself from a window. She survived, but she was paralyzed from the waist down. There was no one to take me to get an abortion. Anyone reading my story up to this point would probably scoff. “She was eighteen, a legal adult. Couldn’t she have gone by herself?” The me of today wants to scoff at the me of back then, too. But the truth is, I couldn’t. I was too scared. Before I met Ethan, the most embarrassing thing I had ever done was take off my shirt for a physical exam before my final exams. I didn’t know how to walk into a women’s clinic and tell a doctor I was pregnant. I couldn’t imagine the look in their eyes. Would they hand me a form for a family member to sign? I had no family. On TV, miscarriages seemed so easy. A fall, a cold drink. I threw myself down the stairs, I punched my own stomach, I swallowed a whole bottle of herbal laxatives. Nothing worked. Every morning, I would tell myself, tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Those days passed in a blur of caring for my mother—feeding her, cleaning her, enduring her beatings and curses when she was lucid. I was miserable, but the days flew by. And so, Leo grew inside me. I was so thin the pregnancy barely showed. It wasn’t until my father’s colleague, my high school homeroom teacher Mrs. Gable, came to visit my mother that anyone noticed. Mrs. Gable thought I was only five months along and was preparing to take me to a clinic. An examination revealed I was already eight months pregnant. Leo was born weighing only four pounds, small and fragile as a baby bird. Mrs. Gable cried. “Valerie, don’t you know? You’ve ruined your life.”

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1 To seize my place as the future Crown Princess for my illegitimate half-sister, Evelyn, my three older brothers stopped at nothing. My eldest brother, Damon, deliberately unleashed his prized tiger, which tore half the skin from my face, leaving me disfigured. My second brother, Julian, secretly allowed bandits into our estate. They severed the tendons in both my hands, ensuring I could never hold a quill again, my talents forever wasted. My third brother, Adrian, bribed a debauched nobleman to violate me, shattering my reputation and my purity. Evelyn successfully took my place and became the Crown Princess. Only after their goal was achieved did my three brothers remember me. “Don’t worry, Alice,” they promised, “we’ll make it up to you. We’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” I clutched the marriage contract just delivered to me by the crippled Lord Chancellor, and answered calmly, “That won’t be necessary. Your repentance is a burden I can no longer bear.” It took me three days to legally sever all ties with them. Then, without a backward glance, I stepped into the bridal carriage. Later, I heard my three brothers turned the capital city upside down, even posting a bounty, just to bring me home. But what did it matter? I was no longer connected to them in any way… … In the training grounds, my eldest brother, Damon, was personally training a tiger cub. He was the most renowned beastmaster in the Kingdom of Veridia, training animals exclusively for the royal family. But now, he stroked the cub’s head, his face full of tender hope. “Pip,” he murmured, “you must be a good boy, so you can protect Evelyn when you’re grown…” Tears streamed down from under my mask, seeping into the unhealed wounds on my cheek. The stinging pain was sharp and deep. I had always wanted a tiger cub of my own, but Damon had always scolded me for my impropriety, saying that the tiger was the king of beasts, a companion fit only for a king. I used to think he was just a stickler for rules, afraid I would bring trouble upon myself. Now I knew the truth: for the person he truly cherished, he was more than willing to bend those rules. Seven years ago, after my mother passed away and my father brought his mistress and her illegitimate daughter, Evelyn, into our home, the brother who had once adored me became a stranger. His eyes saw only Evelyn; his trueborn sister had ceased to exist. I walked over to Pip and stroked his soft, downy head. “Brother,” I asked, my voice low, “do you remember that I always wanted a tiger cub, too?” Damon saw me and recoiled as if from a monster. He snatched Pip into his arms, his eyes wary. “Alice, what are you trying to do? This is a wedding gift for Evelyn. Don’t you dare think of taking it!” His distrust wasn’t new. Seven years ago, when Evelyn first arrived at our estate, she had deliberately paraded in front of me in her new, fine clothes, a clear provocation. I paid her no mind, simply ordering my handmaiden, Lyra, to escort her out. But Evelyn tore her own dress, slammed her head against a stone table, and accused me of attacking her. When Damon arrived, he saw only her pathetic, tear-streaked face. She shrank into his arms like a frightened fawn. “Brother,” she whimpered, “Lady Alice said I was a bastard, unworthy of such fine cloth. She had her maidservant tear my clothes from my body…” Damon had always been simple-minded, believing only what he saw with his own eyes. He refused to listen to my explanation, slapped me hard across the face, and our relationship has been cold ever since. In his mind, I was a jealous shrew who wanted everything for herself. It was true seven years ago, and it was true now. I had tried to prove my innocence countless times over the years, only to be met with disgust and dismissal. Every word from my mouth was, to him, a lie. Now, on the verge of leaving forever, I had finally found peace with it. You can’t force affection, and a heart won by deceit will never be true. My goal today was simple: to sever our ties, not to reconcile. Damon looked at the disownment writ I had prepared and sneered. “A highborn lady with such a petty heart. You’re nothing like Evelyn, so gracious and understanding. Having a sister like you is my greatest shame.” I touched the cold, unfeeling mask on my face, as if tracing the ruined flesh beneath. “And having a brother like you,” I said with a self-mocking laugh, “is mine.” I had always adored Damon, hanging on his every word, never once contradicting him. Even after the tiger mauled me, I never directly accused him. This was the first time in my life I had shown him such insolence. He couldn’t stand it. He grabbed me by the throat, his eyes shot with blood. “You brought this on yourself, Alice! The day you commanded that cub to attack Evelyn, you should have known this day would come!” I was suddenly thrown back to a summer when I was eight. Evelyn had dragged me into the tiger enclosure to play. I tried to stop her, warning her of the danger, but she was determined to touch a cub that was teething. The startled cub pounced, scratching her face. When Damon rushed in, she pointed at me and screamed that I had ordered the attack. Without a single question, he locked me in an empty tiger cage and starved me for three days and three nights. The memory was a heavy stone in my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. Eager to be free of this place, I pushed through the pain. “Since you hate me so much, Brother, then sign the papers. Then Evelyn can be entered into the family archives as your trueborn sister…” “Fine! A venomous creature like you was never worthy of being my sister anyway!” Damon snatched the quill from a servant and scrawled his name. He threw the document in my face. “Don’t you regret this! Who would want you, looking as you do now? What good is cutting ties? You’ll still have to live in this house, eating our food, using our resources!” I picked up the writ, folded it carefully, and tucked it into my sleeve. “You needn’t worry, Lord Damon. Alice will not be a burden.” His eyelashes fluttered. He took a step closer, his voice a low growl. “You call me Lord Damon?!” I stepped back, maintaining the distance between us. “Our ties are severed. It is only proper.” He trembled with rage, his jaw tight. “Good! Very good! Let’s see how long your pride lasts. Don’t come crawling back to me!” I won’t, I thought. In three days, I will leave this house and never return. Regret, hardship… whatever comes next, it will be mine alone to bear. 2 The next day, I entered the study of my second brother, Julian. After our father, the Duke, passed away, Julian, as the most learned and promising son, inherited his title and became the new Lord Chancellor. Years in the royal court had taught him a composure Damon lacked. He didn’t react to my unannounced entry, his eyes remaining on the document he was writing. A single, perfunctory question drifted from his lips. “Are your hands any better?” I looked at my hands. Though the wounds had healed, they could no longer hold a quill. “Much better,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Thank you for leaving me with at least some ability to function.” Julian, pleased by my lack of hysterics, offered a small, satisfied smile. “Now, this is how a lady of a great house should behave. Alice, don’t blame me for my harshness. Evelyn suffered so much in her youth. Her skills in poetry, painting, and politics are no match for yours. If we hadn’t helped her this time, I fear she would have chosen a life of lonely spinsterhood after losing the Prince…” I gazed at the painting of orchids I had gifted him, which hung on the wall. A wave of sorrow washed over me, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. “And what about me, Brother? My engagement is ruined. What am I to do? Live out my days as a lonely spinster?” He saw my tear but mistook it for an accusation. The flicker of guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by annoyance. “Alice, I was trying to spare you some dignity. You know full well how you came by that engagement to the Prince! Evelyn was the one who saved him. You shamelessly stole the token of affection the Prince left for her, which led him to propose to the wrong sister! You owe her this!” At the Midsummer Festival when I was ten, I pulled a boy my age from the river. Before he lost consciousness, he pressed a jade pendant into my hand. I didn’t know he was the Crown Prince, who had snuck out of the palace to see the festival, so I casually left the pendant on my dressing table. Evelyn’s mother, while pretending to bring me medicine for a cold, saw it. After making inquiries, she returned with Evelyn and accused me of theft. They described the pendant’s design and the events of that day with perfect accuracy. My father and brothers naturally believed them. But when the Prince came to formally propose, he ignored the pendant. Instead, he closed his eyes and gently took my hand. “It was her,” he declared. “This is the hand that saved me. I would not mistake it!” The Prince’s validation did not clear my name. It only made my father and brothers despise me more, convinced I had used some dark art to bewitch him. From that day on, Julian lost all faith in me and sided completely with Evelyn. He held fast to our father’s last words: “You must help Evelyn reclaim the marriage that is rightfully hers!” “Alice, if you have a shred of conscience left, you will wish Evelyn nothing but happiness!” Julian’s sharp words pulled me from my reverie. I no longer had the will to argue. I nodded meekly. “I understand.” I took down the orchid painting. “This was my finest work. Let it be a wedding gift for the Prince and Evelyn. Since you never truly liked it anyway…” A flicker of regret crossed his eyes, but his proud, stoic nature wouldn’t allow him to show it. He looked down. “Do as you wish. As long as you don’t cause any trouble for Evelyn.” I placed the disownment writ on his desk and offered him the quill. “Sign this, Brother, and I guarantee I will never disturb Evelyn again.” He looked up sharply, his voice laced with anger. “Are you threatening me?” “Yes,” I replied calmly. Julian hesitated, then snatched the quill and signed his name. “You said it! Don’t you dare go back on your word!” I folded the document and glanced one last time at the decree he was drafting. “Lord Julian,” I said, “reducing taxes by thirty percent will certainly help the common folk, but it will be a great burden on the royal treasury. A ten percent reduction, coupled with incentives for cultivating fallow land, would be a more sustainable path to prosperity.” His eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth twitching into an appreciative smile. “Alice, you truly have a gift for governance. It’s a shame your heart is so twisted. Stay by my side. Be my advisor. As for this disownment writ… I’ll consider it a childish tantrum.” I shook my head calmly. “Thank you for the offer, Lord Julian, but my nature would only vex you. I will not offer my counsel again. Consider this last piece of advice a repayment for your years of care.” Julian sighed. “Very well. We will speak again when you have come to your senses and changed your ways.” You won’t have time to wait for that, Brother, I thought. In two days, we will part ways, forever.

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My husband, Julian, is a name whispered in awe in the halls of science. During an interview about his life, the topic turned to his relationships. He stated, coolly: “I do not believe I am a suitable partner.” “Under no circumstances would I ever place sentiment first.” “I am only willing to dedicate my finite time to the pursuit of infinite science.” After the program aired, he was met with a chorus of praise for his fearless dedication. I, however, quietly folded away my latest medical report. I had cancer. Terminal. The days he would spend in London, accepting his award, would be my last on this earth. 1 The last thing I remember before my consciousness faded was the blinding glare of the surgical lamp. And when my spirit detached, able to see the entire operating room, I watched as the line on the heart monitor beside my bed went flat. That’s when it dawned on me. I was dead. 2 For some reason, I had become a spectral form, able to drift anywhere. It was strange; just this morning, I’d felt well enough to speak with Julian for a bit. He had a conference in London to present his latest findings, and his flight was at noon. I woke at seven to make him breakfast. Julian, for all his austerity, was a picky eater. The toast had to be burned just so, the milk heated to precisely eighty percent. As our son, Leo, would say, “Mom, you’ve completely spoiled Dad’s palate.” I never argued. After two or three decades of meticulous care, even the most troublesome tasks had become second nature. 3 “Julian, dear,” I began, “I heard the weather in England is going to take a sudden dip because of some air mass.” “I’ve packed an extra down vest for you.” “There’s gum in the left pocket of your backpack. Your ears always pop on the plane; chewing a piece should help.” “Don’t stay up too late. Hasn’t your heart been bothering you recently? Try to get some sleep—” “It’s a polar continental air mass.” His words cut me off. I looked up slowly, meeting his clear, sharp eyes. The saying “time is kind to the beautiful” was certainly true for Julian. His brow was still strong and defined; though he was nearing middle age, time seemed to have left no mark on him. Which meant the chill he’d carried since his youth could still pierce straight through to my heart. He was correcting the imprecision of my first sentence. The “some air mass” over England was a “polar continental air mass.” But I was just trying to show I cared. I lowered my eyes and straightened his tie. “I know, I know.” “Be safe on your trip, Julian.” He walked past me. He thought I had a quiet afternoon ahead of me. He was wrong. He was flying across the Atlantic for an academic conference. I had a conference of my own to attend. My pre-operative consultation. The doctor had told me the surgery had only a twenty percent chance of success. 4 The day the doctor told me my stomach cancer had been caught too late, that it had already spread throughout my body, I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor for the entire afternoon. A television mounted in the corner was replaying an episode of Today’s Focus, the interview Julian had given a few days prior. The cold-eyed man didn’t want to waste a moment on anything outside of his research. Even when asked about his wife, he was brief. “I am, for lack of a better word, a block of wood.” “I don’t understand love. My wife… to me, she is more of a responsibility.” “Do we celebrate anniversaries? That’s just formalism. I would rather spend that time running a few more experiments.” That sounded exactly like him. Forget anniversaries; he didn’t even celebrate birthdays. When I was younger, I used to pester him about it, hoping that one day he would appear before me holding a bouquet of radiant roses. But I never once received a single rose. The mind that could commit countless data points to memory simply refused to retain the four digits of my birthdate. Eventually, I learned to sit alone at the table with a bowl of noodles and call it a celebration. Julian was a stone tree that could never blossom. It took me over twenty years to finally accept that truth. In recent years, I’d started to feel that something was wrong with me, too. Call it exhaustion or surrender, it didn’t matter. It was laughable, really. He is he, and I am I. He had laid that simple truth before me decades ago, and only now did I finally understand it. I folded the diagnosis into a small square, tucked it into my pocket, and called my son. 5 Leo and I were close. Julian had never liked children, especially since his only son showed zero aptitude for science. After listening to my dispassionate explanation, Leo’s voice was thick with emotion. “Mom…” “Did you… did you tell Dad?” “I didn’t tell him,” I said, my gaze fixed on the granite floor beneath my feet. “I don’t want to tell him.” He is he, and I am I. Besides, what would he do if he knew I was sick? Would he put aside the research that consumed him day and night to take care of me? “Leo,” I said softly. “Mom doesn’t know how much longer she has.” “When the day comes that I’m gone, don’t tell your father.” I smoothed the hem of my clothes. Why bother him with something he cared so little about? “Okay,” Leo agreed on the other end of the line. “Honestly, Mom, he doesn’t deserve you. He never did.” … 6 My spirit drifted through the hospital’s corridors. I watched the doctor emerge from the operating room, shaking his head in regret. I watched Leo collapse beside my hospital bed, sobbing. He had brought me to the hospital at noon and had waited outside the OR all evening, but his mother wasn’t strong enough. She never opened her eyes again. He cried so hard. I circled him frantically, but he couldn’t see me. I ached to hold him, to tell him not to cry, just as I had when he was a little boy. Leo had tried so hard. He hadn’t become the scientist his father had hoped for, but his paintings were loved by many. He even had a solo exhibition scheduled in Italy for the fall. I sat beside him, looking up at the night stars, and sang to him like I used to when he was small. He couldn’t hear me, but I felt that somehow, he would know his mother was with him. … Suddenly, I was carried away by a gust of wind, transported to a place far, far away. The senses of a spirit are truly bizarre. On one hand, I could still perceive what was happening at the hospital after my death. On the other, I had arrived at the venue of Julian’s conference. The conference was scheduled to last for seven days. Dressed in a sharp suit, he was easily the center of attention. Young, handsome, with a résumé that was virtually unparalleled. The truth was, Julian had probably been the center of attention his entire life. In college, the girls who admired him were countless. It was an era that still held onto some traditional values, yet girls would brazenly chase him all the way to his dormitory. He would always look at them with that same dismissive gaze, dressed in a plain white shirt, clutching a textbook under his arm, his head bowed in a restrained, distant manner. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in you.” His words were mercilessly blunt. The popularity that many men flaunted was, to him, merely a nuisance. Back then, he was already drowning in national awards. The professors constantly sang his praises. I was one of the many students who looked up to him, one of the most peripheral ones. I only dared to steal glances at the corner of his shirt as he left the cafeteria. Julian had no idea that I had secretly been in love with him for three or four years before our families set us up. And I could never have imagined that three years after graduation, the man my family arranged for me to meet would be him. “I will never be in love with anyone.” That was the first thing Julian ever said to me. “If I must say I love something, then I love running experiments, doing calculations—anything that doesn’t involve people.” He frowned slightly, a gesture that still couldn’t hide his dazzling good looks. He stated his position with stark clarity. “We are not discussing love.” “We are simply ensuring the continuation of a lineage. Do you understand?” … He had been so clear back then. It was I who thought I could accept it. It was I who chose to be with him. I always believed that time was on my side, that one day his clear, placid gaze would finally settle on me. I always believed that he— Would fall in love with me. Was it overconfidence? To pin all my tireless devotion on the flimsy hope of “love growing over time.” My spirit drifted to his side. I watched him engage in a serious discussion with a scholar across from him, his tall figure exuding a cool elegance. “Was I a fool?” I murmured, my hands in my pockets as I looked at him. “They say high-IQ individuals see normal people the way normal people see idiots.” On the other side of the world, my body was being loaded into a hearse. The academic conference buzzed with voices. “Julian, do you think I was a fool?” 7 Julian took a picture of the London nightscape and sent it to me. Of course, I would never be able to reply. Leo, true to his word, never told his father about my passing. He even blocked Julian from seeing the obituary he posted using my social media account. It was for the best. I had clung to him for so long in life; I was afraid of troubling him even in death, forcing him to change his flight. Besides, I didn’t think he would want to see me one last time anyway. The view of London at night was beautiful. But for some reason, he stood on the windswept terrace for a long time that night, staring at his phone. I drifted closer and realized why. In the past, whenever he sent me a message, I would almost always reply instantly. When he traveled abroad, he would occasionally send me a few photos, and I would respond with an emoji I’d saved from Leo—a thumbs-up, or two, with the words “Awesome!” written above. This time, he waited. And I never replied. “Professor Thorne,” a young woman’s voice said from behind him. “It’s starting to rain again. You should come back inside before you catch a cold.” It was one of his students. In academia, some things were an open secret. The girl moved closer, about to drape a coat over his shoulders, but he pushed it away. 8 “Fish and chips.” “Disgusting.” Julian sent me a picture from a restaurant. My body was pushed into the cremator. “It’s raining again.” Julian sent me a picture from the window of his hotel. Friends and family attended my burial service. “Presenting my findings tonight.” “Flight back is tomorrow.” Julian stood on the lecture stage, a sea of cameras flashing at him. My English was rusty, but I understood enough. His latest achievement was another monumental contribution to human progress. There he was, under the spotlight, in his element, shining with the brilliance everyone expected of him. I think that’s why I loved him for so many years. But that was me loving him, not the other way around. As the April rain fell and my ashes were interred beside a square headstone, I finally understood that simple truth. 9 That night, after the conference ended, Julian called my phone. When the third call went unanswered, he changed his flight to one departing in the dead of night. On the plane, his brows were knitted together, his face even colder than usual. I suppose it made sense. For so many years, I had been at his beck and call. For me to suddenly be unreachable must have been unsettling for him. Normally, whenever he returned from a trip, I would be at the airport to pick him up. I’d always arrive an hour or two early, just to wait. It was another one of those habits. You can’t bear to let the person you love suffer any inconvenience. I always did my best to make his life comfortable. But this time, he would have to walk through a deserted terminal alone and hail an overpriced taxi at four or five in the morning. He arrived home at six. He knocked first. No answer. He used his fingerprint to unlock the door and pushed it open. The house was empty. Everything was just as he had left it. The sink was spotless, the dining table bare. But my slippers, the ones I always wore, were still neatly placed by the entryway. He unbuttoned the coat he’d been in too much of a hurry to change out of and walked through the dark house, circling again and again. The bedroom. The balcony. The bathroom. Finally, he pulled open the washing machine door. … Finding nothing, he paused, took out his phone, and called me again. A long wait, then the busy signal. He took a deep breath, his thumb swiping to another number on his contact list. Leo’s. Their relationship had been strained even before Leo became an adult. For years, Leo only came home to see me, with no intention of acknowledging his father. Julian’s attitude was much the same—immersed in his work, he wanted nothing to do with raising a child. He was absent during the most crucial stages of his son’s development, so his son had never spoken to him with much warmth. “What do you want?” “Where is your mother?” Both their tones were sharp. But Leo paused. Then came a strange, hollow laugh, a sound impossible to describe, as he repeated the question in a mumble. “Where is my mother?” “My mother’s gone.” “Gone where?” Julian’s frown deepened, the first light of dawn landing right between his brows. I heard my son’s voice on the other end of the line, suddenly pale and thin. “Not gone where.” “She passed away, Dad.” 10 A long, heavy silence stretched between both ends of the phone line. From my vantage point, I could see the knuckles of the hand Julian held the phone with turning white. “You’re old enough to know better than to make such tasteless jokes,” he said, his tone scolding. He didn’t believe it. It seemed the idea that I could die, that my funeral could be held without him even being notified, was something that simply did not exist in Julian’s reality. Leo’s voice went hoarse on the other end. After a long moment, he let out a laugh that sounded almost like a release. “Dad,” he said. “I haven’t told you a single joke since I was twelve.” Leo hung up. The dial tone buzzed from the phone, but strangely, Julian seemed frozen, holding the phone in the same position, just standing there. Slowly, he sat down on the living room sofa. Julian was meticulous and rigorous in his academic life, but his personal life was the complete opposite. He was casual to an extreme. So, I was always the one cleaning the house. His study was often piled high with papers he wouldn’t let me touch. He had snapped at me more than once over things like that. Thinking back now, maybe I was never the right person for him. Perhaps he needed a fellow female scientist with whom he could traverse the vast, boundless universe of academia. Not a writer for a small publication who only knew how to wash the sofa covers until they were faded, who didn’t even know what a polar continental air mass was. Light began to seep into the room. I saw him touch the lace trim on the sofa cover. The lace that had already gathered a thin layer of dust. He rubbed it, over and over again. 11 The front door opened. Julian whipped his head around, the movement so abrupt I was afraid he’d sprain his neck. But it was Leo standing in the doorway, dangling a key from his finger. “Dad, good, you’re here.” “Where did Mom keep her ID and the household registration book?” “I need to go to the registrar’s office…” Julian’s fingers, still toying with the lace, froze. “…to cancel her registration.” … The cabinet under the television held some of our personal documents. Julian was the type to toss these things around carelessly, including some of his major award medals, so I always put them away for him with great care. He was indifferent to them, but I would always trace their engravings with a happy smile. “What’s the point?” he’d ask, not understanding why his awards made me so happy. I would just beam and link my arm through his. “Because you’re my husband, of course! I’m happy when my husband wins an award.” When I was younger, I used to be more clingy and affectionate. Over the years, I had toned it down considerably. Julian was now holding our marriage certificate, not letting go. The photo on it wasn’t very good. His lips weren’t turned up in the slightest, while I was smiling as if it were my own personal, grand wedding. Leo found my ID and turned to see his father holding the two red booklets, staring at them intently. “Don’t worry, Dad,” Leo said. “Now that Mom is gone, your marriage to her is naturally dissolved.” “You’re not her husband anymore. Not ever again.” “Happy? You’re free to pursue relationships with all those young female students you mentor now.” This was the kind of sharp, sarcastic tone that would usually make Julian furious. But this time, he didn’t react for a long time. In fact, he seemed to have been lost in a daze for a while. He just slowly stood up and picked up the trench coat hanging on the sofa. “I’ll go with you.” 12 They didn’t say a word to each other the entire way. To be honest, I had wondered what Julian’s reaction would be after I died. I imagined a simple “Oh” or “I see,” before he would dive back into his great research for the betterment of humanity. He didn’t love me. I knew that. So my departure would be, at most, an interlude for him—not too big, not too small, like a pebble dropped into a lake. The fact that he was personally going to cancel my registration… I didn’t know whether to thank him for old times’ sake. Watching my own existence being officially erased was a rather unique experience. Leo handed over the documents, and Julian sat on a chair in the waiting area. Even so, he was still a striking figure. Dressed in a teal coat, he stood out like a solitary pine tree. I could always spot him in a crowd. I didn’t know what he was thinking, his dark eyes quietly reflecting the bustling crowd. Just like that, Leo filled out my cancellation form. The clerk on the other side of the window confirmed the details. When the booklet was handed back, it had a new stamp on it. “DECEASED.” Julian stared at that word for a long, long time. So long that Leo snatched the booklet from his father’s hand. “I’ll come back in a few days to get Mom’s things.” “Who said you could?” Julian’s voice, unused for so long, was dry and raspy. “I’m her son. Why can’t I?” “I’m still her husband.” “You’re nothing,” Leo spat. After that, they both fell silent. Julian was still standing there, but I felt as if all the strength had been drained from him in an instant. He closed his eyes and said slowly, “Your mother never told me she was sick.” “Yeah,” Leo nodded. “What good would it have done?” Leo took the booklet stamped “DECEASED” and walked away. Julian was left standing alone at the entrance of the registrar’s office. I knew it all along. Julian was always just a passerby in my life. It was impossible to melt a man like him. He was forever rational, forever on his pedestal. The sun beat down mercilessly. He turned and walked down the street, the air thick with the sound of cicadas.

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For my birthday, my friend gave me a designer handbag. When my roommate saw it, she couldn’t stop gushing about how generous my friend was and begged me to introduce them. I let her join a game with us, and then she pestered me to add her to our group chat. Just as I was about to add her, a line of text flashed before my eyes: [Don’t do it. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group.] [You’re about to be frozen out by both your friends and your roommate.] [In the end, you’ll die by suicide due to depression.] I slowly lowered the phone I had just picked up. And replied to her: “My friends don’t like playing with strangers.” 1 Seeing my refusal, my roommate, Susan, didn’t let up. “How do you know if you don’t try? I’m so good with people, I’m sure they’ll love me. My best quality is that I can get along with anyone.” Susan continued to sing her own praises, but my attention was fixed on the text floating in front of me. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group. Was that about me? Was Susan the “social butterfly roommate”? Frozen out by both your friends and your roommate? Whether it was real or not, I decided to be cautious. Ever since she saw the birthday gifts my friends gave me, Susan had been clinging to me, begging for an introduction. As an introvert, I hated having new people suddenly thrust into my friend group. I had already refused her twice. The third time, I was in the middle of a game when she started pestering me to join. My friends were urging me to get online. Suddenly, she leaned over and shouted into my headset, “Hi! I’m Leah’s roommate, and I love playing Valorant too! Can I join you guys?” My friends were in a hurry to start. “Sure, sure!” one of them said cheerfully. “We’re short one player anyway. The more the merrier!” Susan dominated the voice chat, shouting and laughing. Every time I tried to say something to my friends, her voice would cut in. I eventually just gave up and stayed quiet. After the match, she had the nerve to criticize my performance. “Leah, your skills are terrible. Don’t worry, I’ll carry you for a few more rounds.” “Add me to your group chat,” she demanded. “That way I’ll be online whenever you guys want to team up.” I hesitated. Just as I was about to give in, the strange text appeared. I changed my mind. “My friends don’t like strangers,” I said. But I should have known Susan’s “social butterfly” nickname wasn’t for nothing. I had just come out of the bathroom when Susan waved my phone at me triumphantly. “Leah, I asked your friends, and they all really like me! They said it’s fine for me to join your group.” My eyes narrowed. “Did you go through my phone without my permission?” She rolled her eyes. “I just borrowed it. If I had their contact info, I wouldn’t have needed to!” I was about to argue when another line of text appeared overhead: [Ugh, I’m gonna be sick. Taking something without asking is stealing. She’s really desperate to get into this friend group.] [Just watch. If Leah doesn’t add her, she’ll just do it herself secretly.] [That’s right. Tonight, she’s going to use Leah’s phone to add herself to the group chat, then claim Leah begged her to join.] Reading these lines, an idea began to form. I ignored Susan, took my phone back, and walked out of the dorm. She stomped her foot in frustration behind me. That night, I went to bed early. I hid my old phone on a bookshelf, positioning it to record the room, and left my current phone on my desk, pretending I’d forgotten it. In the middle of the night, I heard a rustling sound from under my bed. 2 Susan tiptoed over to my desk. She stood there for a long time before finally leaving. The next morning, with no classes, I was woken up by the incessant buzzing of my phone on the desk. I got up to wash my face, and when I unlocked my phone, my world came crashing down. Susan was chatting animatedly with my friends in the group. It had started with a picture she’d taken of me sleeping, which she’d posted in the chat. They were all making fun of me. It felt like having my privacy stripped bare in public. What hurt even more was that my three best friends were joining in on the laughter. Their lighthearted jokes felt like salt in a wound. Seeing that I was awake, Susan tagged me: “@Leah, our star has finally risen.” Furious, I typed back, “Why did you take a picture of me while I was sleeping?” Susan quickly sent back an innocent-looking emoji. “We’re all friends here. I just thought your sleeping position was funny and wanted to share it with everyone. It was just a joke, you don’t have to get so worked up!” What made me even angrier was that my friends started to placate me, all of them thinking I was overreacting. “We’re all friends, it was just a joke. Don’t be mad.” Seeing that everyone was on her side, Susan quickly added, “Leah, everyone got you such expensive gifts for your birthday because they really consider you a friend. It was just a little joke, and you’re having such a huge reaction. You expect everyone to be nice to you, but you can’t take a joke? That’s such a double standard.” Her words cast a chill over the group chat. Just as I was at a loss for what to do, the text appeared again. [The roommate is starting to gaslight her. She’s the one who was in the wrong, but she’s turning it all around on Leah.] [Leah, don’t doubt yourself. You’re not wrong. Your friends and your roommate are. She’s trying to make everyone dislike you by putting you down.] [This is the first step in her takeover of your friend group. By undermining you, she’s getting closer to your friends.] Despite my unease, I had started to doubt myself. Reading the text gave me strength. I replied coolly, “Shouldn’t friends respect each other? Don’t you need someone’s permission to make a joke at their expense? Besides, you used my phone to add yourself to the group without my permission. You’ve got some nerve.” The group went silent. Susan sent a crying emoji and explained, “Leah, you were the one who added me, remember? You must have forgotten.” I immediately sent the video I had recorded into the group chat. Susan started sending tearful voice messages. “I was waiting for you to send me Bri’s contact info, but you fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just used your phone to get into the group.” Her damsel-in-distress act worked. My friends jumped in to mediate. [It’s fate! Leah, just let it go.] [Yeah, yeah, your friends are our friends.] [The most important thing is that we can all hang out together.] She seized the opportunity. “Besides, Leah, why were you recording in the dorm room? You just don’t trust me!” My friends chimed in. [Yeah, Leah, you were in the wrong on that one, too. Just drop it.] Susan exclaimed, “Exactly! I’ll be the bigger person and not hold it against you.” Seeing that they were all siding with her, I didn’t say anything more, but my heart had turned to ice. After that incident, I started to lurk in the group chat, rarely speaking. Susan, on the other hand, became incredibly active, constantly starting new conversations, acting as if she were the real friend to my friends. Every time they discussed something new in the chat, Susan would corner me in the dorm and talk my ear off about it, always ending with a jab: “Are you sure you guys were friends in high school? It feels like you have nothing in common with them. You don’t really fit in, do you?” I didn’t get angry. I was more curious to see how she planned to take over my friend group. Two weeks later, my friend Brianna’s birthday was approaching. Susan quietly asked me in the dorm, “Your friends got you a designer bag for your birthday. What are you getting for Bri?” Before I could answer, the text appeared again. [Be careful, Leah. Don’t fall into her trap. She’s going to swap the gifts to completely alienate you from your friends.] [The roommate has secretly gone through your phone and bought the exact same gift, but it’s a fake.] [After being framed, you’ll be ostracized by your friends. With the roommate’s added manipulation, you’ll be isolated at school too.] I turned to Susan and said with a smile, “I’m getting her the latest earrings from the new collection.” Susan quickly waved her hands. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me.” I was curious to see how she would manage to swap my gift. 3 In the dorm, I showed my roommates the birthday gift I had bought for Brianna. It was a pair of earrings, a wreath of green jade with jade feathers dangling below. Everyone gasped. “They’re beautiful.” Susan, however, was unusually calm. She was hunched over her desk, writing furiously. My other roommate, Yolie, nudged her. “Susan, look! These earrings are gorgeous.” Susan didn’t even look up. “I’m busy with a proposal for my club. Don’t bother me.” Yolie pouted and turned away. As everyone chattered, Susan kept her head down, but I could see her sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye. I suddenly had an idea. “Hey, let’s all go shopping. I’ll show you some even more beautiful jewelry, and I’ll treat you all to bubble tea.” Everyone was on board. Yolie called out to Susan again, but she just repeated that she was too busy. I put the earrings back in their box and placed it in my locker. I never bothered to lock it. My roommates and I went out for the entire afternoon, leaving Susan alone in the dorm. When we got back that evening, I opened my locker to change and glanced at the earring box. Sure enough, it had been opened. I casually asked, “Susan, Bri’s birthday is in a couple of days. Are you coming?” Susan readily agreed. “Of course! Bri invited me. We can go together.” The night before Bri’s birthday, I suddenly came down with a bad case of diarrhea. I was up all night, running to the bathroom more than a dozen times. The next morning, Susan helped me to the campus clinic. As I was getting an IV drip, she reminded me, “Leah, you’re in no condition to go today. Why don’t you give me the gift, and I’ll take it for you?” I was completely drained and weak. I had no choice but to tell Susan to get the gift from my locker. After she got it, she even sent me a picture of it. On Bri’s birthday, the group chat was eerily silent. Usually, we’d be flooding it with pictures of the cake, the gifts, everything. I didn’t know what Susan had said, but the silence was unsettling. That evening, Susan returned, her face beaming with suppressed joy. The moment she saw me, she quickly wiped the smile off her face and looked at me with a hesitant expression. She came over to my bed and whispered, “Leah, Bri said the earrings you got her look like fakes.” “I think there must be a misunderstanding,” she continued, her voice full of concern. “Don’t worry. Think about it, maybe you got scammed.” “I didn’t want them to say anything in the group because I was afraid it would upset you. Why don’t you apologize to Bri later and get her another gift? Don’t let this ruin your friendship.” She looked so genuinely concerned. If I hadn’t known the gift had been swapped, I would have been completely fooled by her performance. I replied with feigned agitation, “That’s impossible! I have the receipt. The sales associate said they could be engraved, so I had them put the first letter of Bri’s name, ‘B,’ inside. I’m calling Bri right now, and we’ll go to the store to get them authenticated.”

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The night before my wedding to the Crown Prince, my father brought home the daughter he’d had with his mistress. “Your sister is a celestial beauty, far more striking than you. With her by your side in the Prince’s household, she will surely help you secure his favor.” I found it almost laughable. I was, after all, her mother’s killer. How could she possibly help me? And just as I expected, on my wedding day, she stood beside me in a breathtakingly simple white gown, stealing the gaze of every person present. Except for my husband, the Crown Prince. 1 The mistress my father cherished more than his own eyes was my mother’s half-sister, Liana. Every day, she would come to our estate to play the part of a devoted sister to my mother, all while secretly carrying on an affair with my father. When my mother was eight months pregnant with her second child, the royal physician declared it would be a boy. On the day of my mother’s labor, Liana chose that exact moment to confess, weeping, that not only had she become my father’s mistress, but she had borne him a daughter eight years prior. Eight years ago. The second year of my parents’ marriage. The facade of a loving marriage shattered into a lie. The bond of sisterhood became a cruel joke. My mother, consumed by grief and rage, gave up and died, leaving me with a wailing infant brother. I was eight years old. I grew up overnight. I trailed behind the head nurse, learning how to manage my mother’s funeral arrangements, never leaving my infant brother’s side, soothing and caring for him. My father was at his private villa, celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival in blissful harmony with Liana and her daughter. On the seventh day after my mother’s death. I dragged my frail, sick body to the villa my father had provided for Liana. As always, she greeted me with a look of maternal affection. “My dearest Viola, in a few days, your father will bring me home as the new lady of the house. You’ll have to start calling me Mother then.” The feigned warmth couldn’t hide the triumph in her eyes. She stroked my face and called for her daughter, Beatrix, and her son, Alistair. “Come, come and meet your elder sister.” Beatrix and Alistair called me “sister,” their expressions a mixture of curiosity and unease. Liana teased me. “It’s the first time you’re meeting your brother and sister, so of course you didn’t bring a gift. When you’re back at the manor, you must remember to make up for it. Even though you no longer have a mother to teach you, you must still learn to be proper.” I smiled, my fingers caressing the cold steel of the blade hidden in my sleeve. “Aunt,” I said, “come closer. I have a white jade hairpin for you.” She bent down without suspicion, her eyes crinkling with self-satisfied amusement. A second later, the smile vanished. Her eyes froze as she clutched the gushing wound in her neck. Her mouth opened in disbelief, but no words came out. She convulsed on the ground, kicking up dust, her bloodshot eyes staring at me in horror. Beatrix and Alistair shrieked. I calmly wiped the blood from the blade and smiled. “A welcome gift from your sister. Do enjoy it.” 2 Beatrix was sobbing hysterically, but with the knife in my hand, she didn’t dare attack me. “Father… Father won’t let you get away with this! He’ll make you pay for my mother’s life!” He won’t. If word got out that I had murdered my own stepmother, his career would be over. For his own sake, he would find a way to clean up this mess. Beatrix didn’t understand what a pragmatic, self-serving man her father was. But I did. 3 My father suppressed what happened at the villa, giving Liana a hasty burial. He came at me with a blade. “You are so young, yet so vicious! Go to hell!” My infant brother was crying incessantly. Just as I had instructed, my nurse brought my grandmother, and only then was my life spared. But I couldn’t escape a fate worse than death. He put something in my food. Within a month, I was meant to go mad. He hated me for killing the love of his life. And I hated him for destroying mine. That was my mother. The mother who carried me for ten months and risked her life to give birth to me. The mother who, for eight years, loved, cherished, and doted on me. I hated my father, and he hated me. We were no longer father and daughter, but enemies. In the dead of winter, I threw myself into the frozen lake. I survived by a hair’s breadth, carving out a sliver of hope for myself. My aunt, my mother’s sister-in-law, finally had a pretext. She arrived with her household guards and took me and my frail younger brother away. Before I left, I told my father, “If you dare bring Beatrix and Alistair into this house to raise them, I will go to the magistrate and beat the drum of injustice. I will tell the world how you carried on with your wife’s own sister and drove her to her death. Then I will confess to the murder of my aunt. My death is a small matter, but the entire Valerius name will be ruined because of me. The careers of the men, the marriages of the women—all of it will be finished. Father, as long as I am alive, you will never bring them through the gates of this house.” My father was overcome with rage. He slapped me across the face and squeezed my neck, his fingers digging into my flesh. “How did I raise such a disobedient, unfilial creature! How dare you!” I smiled at him, not struggling. Slowly, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he released his grip. He muttered under his breath, his eyes filled with a deep-seated fear. “You’re a lunatic. A complete lunatic!” I smiled sweetly. “I am not a lunatic, but you are a coward. Father, I dare to risk my life openly for my mother. But you don’t dare to openly avenge the woman you supposedly loved. You are less than me.” 4 With my aunt present, all the dowry my mother had brought with her was carefully inventoried and taken with me. My grandmother was displeased but could say nothing. She didn’t want my brother to leave. That night, my brother broke out in a red rash and a high fever. My aunt created a huge scene, causing my grandmother to faint from rage. My father, rubbing his temples in exhaustion, waved his hand dismissively. “Take him. Take them all! He’s not the only son I have! Get out! All of you, just get out!” My aunt prepared the chambers my mother had used in her family home before she was married. I settled there with my brother and my nurse. In return for my aunt’s kindness, I took my cousin’s place as the companion to Princess Seraphina. Princess Seraphina was known for being arrogant and difficult. The companions who had gone before me had all returned in tears, tormented beyond recognition. Now it was my maternal family’s turn, and my aunt couldn’t bear to see her own daughter suffer. And I had no desire to stay with the Valerius family. Our goals aligned perfectly. On my first day at the palace, I was forced to kneel. The reason? My hairstyle was unbecoming. I smiled and accepted the punishment. The second day, I was hung from a tree. Again, I smiled and accepted the punishment. Until I fainted and was rescued by the Crown Prince. When I awoke, the Prince was scolding Seraphina. I pushed through the pain and weakness, kneeling to bow my head. “It was I who broke the cup and offended Her Highness. That is why she punished me.” The Prince’s lecture faltered. Seraphina bit her lip and looked at me. He took a deep breath and rapped Seraphina on the head. “She is not your servant. She is your companion, the daughter of a nobleman. Her mother was the daughter of the Marquis of Fairview, and her father is a Master of the Royal Household. You cannot be so unreasonable.” Seraphina snorted. “The daughter of a minor official. So what? What does it matter if I have her beaten to death?” “Seraphina!” The Prince’s voice was low, strained with something like pity. “Her mother just passed away. Be kinder to her. She, like you, has lost her mother. You should understand her sorrow.” At that, Seraphina fell silent, her gaze toward me softening slightly. The Prince helped me up and smiled. “There, now. Rest. You are weak. I’ve had the royal physician prepare a tonic for you. Seraphina is just a bit spoiled, she means no harm. Don’t hold it against her.” “Her Highness is very kind to me.” From that day on, perhaps because Seraphina saw that I, too, was motherless, she treated me much better. She no longer punished me on a whim. I followed her to her lessons every day. The King doted on Seraphina, granting her the special privilege of studying alongside the princes. I attended her, learning the arts of governance, the ways of rulers, and the philosophies of a hundred schools of thought. Seraphina had no interest in these things; I wrote all her essays and arguments for her. She loved the spotlight and the empty praise. My writing earned her the commendation of her tutors. When it came to my own assignments, I deliberately held back, appearing mediocre. My loyalty to her was not blind obedience. I catered to her whims, but on matters of great importance, I would fight her to the death. She would be furious at the time, screaming and hitting me, but after suffering the consequences and losing face, she would remember my advice and appreciate me for it. Over time, she grew dependent on me. At the new Queen’s birthday feast, Seraphina got into a conflict with the new Queen’s daughter, the Seventh Princess, and was pushed into a pond in the royal gardens. The Seventh Princess was imperious. “No one is to save her! You think your mother is still the Queen? Your mother is dead! My mother is the Queen now! How dare you still be so arrogant! I’ll have anyone who tries to save her beaten to death!” The eunuchs and maids present were too terrified to move, only daring to sneak off to find the Prince and the King. By the time they returned with help, Seraphina would have been nothing but a corpse. Watching Seraphina flailing desperately in the water, I knew my chance had come. I jumped in. The rescue did not go smoothly. She couldn’t swim, and as I tried to save her, she latched onto me, pushing me under in her panic to climb up. I swallowed several mouthfuls of water and nearly drowned myself. When the King and the Prince arrived, they saw me, a complete mess, dragging an unconscious Seraphina onto the bank. The Prince’s face was pale. He was usually so gentle and warm, but this was the first time I had seen his eyes so cold and sharp. The Seventh Princess took a fearful step back, but then, remembering her mother was now Queen, she straightened her spine. The Prince took Seraphina into his arms and reached a hand out to me, but I collapsed back into the water, deliberately hitting my arm against a sharp rock and breaking it. He dove in without a moment’s hesitation and pulled me out. The King interrogated the servants. A young eunuch trembled as he recounted, “It’s not that we didn’t want to save her, Your Majesty, but the Seventh Princess forbade it. We did not dare to disobey.” The Prince’s face was like ice. He walked straight to the Seventh Princess and slapped her hard across the face. His voice was frigid. “Father, my mother is gone. If Miss Valerius had not defied her threats and jumped in to save Seraphina, Seraphina would be with my mother now.” The King’s eyes filled with guilt. He sentenced the Seventh Princess to a year of confinement. After the royal physician had set my arm, the Prince dismissed the maids attending me and brought me a bowl of medicine himself. He blew on it gently. “Miss Valerius, thank you for what you did today. You saved Seraphina. The King will reward the House of Valerius.” I said, “If there is to be a reward, could it be for my younger brother?” He stared at me, stunned. I continued, my voice laced with bitterness, “Your Highness, I must confess… my father has other children with a mistress. After my mother’s death, my younger brother and I have been under the care of my aunt at the Fairview estate. My brother is still so young, and though my aunt cares for him, I worry for him day and night.” As I spoke, tears fell like pearls from my eyes. “My brother and I are all each other has in this world. I cannot rest easy. If I am truly to be rewarded, I hope His Majesty can bestow some honor upon my brother, so that my aunt and uncle will value him more.” The Prince’s expression was complex. He set down the medicine and handed me a handkerchief, his own eyes red-rimmed. He was only fourteen himself. The year the former Queen died, he was only eight. He had to navigate this treacherous court with a clueless Seraphina in tow, fending off the schemes of the King’s favored concubines, caring for his sister, and shouldering the heavy burden of being the Crown Prince, never daring to slacken in his studies for a moment. He lived in constant fear that a single misstep would cost him the throne. “Miss Valerius… Viola. May I call you by your name?” My eyelashes trembled. I looked at him with red-rimmed, bewildered eyes. He picked up the medicine and offered it to me with a smile. “Viola, don’t cry. From now on, you will help me look after Seraphina, and I will look after your brother outside the palace for you. How does that sound?” My eyes lit up. “Really?” I asked, a hopeful surprise in my voice. He smiled warmly. “Of course.” I smiled back. It’s working. He had remembered my name. Viola. 5 The Prince visited me every day. When Seraphina recovered, she came to see me with a bowl of chicken soup, her demeanor incredibly awkward. “Look at you, so thin. Anyone would think I was mistreating you!” she grumbled, setting down the soup. I saw the fresh burns on her fingers and the back of her hand and blinked. She was terrified of pain. She asked, her tone brusque, “I was so awful to you, why did you still save me? Weren’t you afraid of dying?” I forced down a spoonful of soup. “Her Highness has been very good to me.” She turned her face away, her expression stubborn and proud. “Hypocrite.” But for the next two weeks, she didn’t miss a single day of bringing me soup. The taste improved from watery and bland to rich and delicious. Her attitude toward me shifted from disdain and contempt to one of genuine regard. She started to open up to me. Once my arm healed, I resumed my lessons with her. She no longer brought other maids with her, and she stopped making me carry everything. In fact, she even started carrying things for me. The Prince contacted me daily to ask about Seraphina. After discussing his sister, he would always ask about me, a word or two of concern. He occasionally brought me news of my brother, along with small gifts from outside the palace. The brilliant political essays that earned Seraphina so much praise from her tutors… others might not know, but he knew they were my work. He often discussed history and classics with me. And I, in turn, burned the midnight oil, studying relentlessly, not daring to be complacent for a moment, terrified that the opportunity I had fought so hard for would vanish. My mother was dead. My father was someone else’s father. My brother was young, and I was his only family in this world. I had to be strong. Spring turned to autumn, and six years passed. I came of age. For my coming-of-age ceremony, Seraphina found me a magnificent gown that shimmered like captured starlight. The Prince handed me a gift box. “Open it.” Inside was a simple wooden hairpin. Seraphina scoffed. “Brother, you’re the Crown Prince of the entire kingdom. Can’t you do better than that?” But I was delighted. “I love it.” Of course I do. He carved it himself. How could it be the same? That night, I gave him a sachet I had embroidered and confessed my feelings. He was taken aback, his ears turning red. He gently rejected me. “I only see you as a sister.” I lowered my eyes and nodded. “I see. Alright then.” I turned and left. The next day when we met, he avoided me. I acted perfectly normal, showing no awkwardness, and treated him just as I always had. His stiff expression annoyed Seraphina. “Brother, what’s with the long face? You think you’re our grim-faced old tutor?” I chimed in with a smile. “Yes, Brother, is something troubling you?” He paused, a frown creasing his brow. Seraphina looked up. “Why are you calling him Brother all of a sudden?” I answered innocently, “He said he sees me as a sister.” Seraphina burst out laughing. “Fine by me. I’m happy to have you as a sister.” My eyes curved into crescents. Only the Prince, Nicholas, kept his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze on me dark and unreadable. I stopped embroidering personal items like shirts for him. He had a recurring throat ailment and was a picky eater. Every year, I would pick and dry chrysanthemums for his tea, carefully selecting the best ones to send to him. I had studied under the royal physician, learning many medicinal recipes, and spent my days trying to cook him delicious, healthy meals. For six years, I had woven myself into the fabric of his life. From grand political theories to the smallest stitch, in his life and his studies, I was everywhere, meticulously attentive. And now, I cut it all off. For two weeks, I was polite to him in public, and distant in private. He finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He tried to speak to me with the same warmth and familiarity as before. I smiled and interrupted him. “Brother, it’s late. Perhaps another day. I’ve already told my family that Your Highness sees me as a sister. Please don’t be angry with me. I am alone and have no one to rely on. I was hoping to borrow your name for a bit of protection. Tomorrow, I will be returning home to prepare for my marriage.” The smile froze on his face. His jaw tightened, his fingers unconsciously rubbing together, then clenching into a fist, veins standing out. “Who are you marrying?” he asked, the words forced out, each one landing with a heavy, difficult weight. I beamed. “I don’t know yet. The exam results will be out soon, won’t they? My uncle plans to let me choose from the top candidates. I think that young man from Silverwood, Julian, seems very promising. My uncle says that although Julian’s family is poor, his writing has great integrity and style. I was reluctant at first, but then I read his essays.” The more I spoke, the more animated I became, gesturing excitedly, my face practically splitting with a joyous smile. Nicholas’s eyes darkened, the warmth draining from him, replaced by an icy frost. His fingers trembled slightly. I babbled on. “Brother, you have no idea how beautiful Julian’s calligraphy is, and his essays are so well-written! Reading them felt like meeting a soulmate in a foreign land. I wish I could meet him immediately.” Nicholas’s smile was glacial. “Scholars are often fickle. Viola, you have spent your life in the palace and met few men. Do not be deceived by mere words.” I nodded obediently. “You’re right. It must be because I haven’t met enough men. Seeing you every day, I mistakenly thought I was in love with you.” I feigned a look of deep, conflicted thought, my cheeks flushing as I whispered shyly, “My aunt sent me a portrait of Julian. He’s so handsome, with a face like polished jade and an air of scholarly grace. I like him so much. I can’t wait to meet him.” The last traces of a smile vanished from Nicholas’s lips. His eyes were cold and dark, his expression unreadable. I glanced at the darkening sky and let out a small “Oh!” “Thank you for your kindness to me and my brother all these years. Thanks to you, my brother is now studying at the Royal Academy. I am eternally grateful.” I turned and waved cheerfully. “You should go back now. I need to pack. I have to go to bed early so I can wake up and get ready tomorrow. It wouldn’t do to meet Julian with dark circles under my eyes!” He suddenly grabbed my hand, his grip like iron, his eyes blazing. I looked at him, confused. “Brother—” He cut me off, his voice sharp with anger. “Don’t call me that.” I made myself look small and timid. “Your Highness,” I whispered. He stared into my eyes, his dark lashes trembling. From a distance, the sound of eunuchs and maids greeting the Queen drifted toward us. He seemed to snap out of a trance and released my hand. I turned and my eyes met Seraphina’s cold, hard stare. She’s finally here. The jewelry I sent wasn’t wasted. Back in her chambers, Seraphina sat on the main seat and ordered me to kneel. As I knelt, a teacup flew from her hand, grazing my forehead. My hairpin came loose, my hair tumbling down. A flicker of pity crossed her eyes, but her voice was sharp with accusation, her own eyes red. “You got close to me just to become the Crown Princess, didn’t you?!” I lowered my eyes. “I am leaving tomorrow. My family has already arranged another match for me.” I wiped the blood from my forehead. “Seraphina, I owe you nothing. Whether my feelings were real or false, I gave you my heart.” Tears streamed down her face. “Get out!” she screamed. I slowly stood up and retrieved the bag I had already packed. I gave the protective amulet I had embroidered for Seraphina to a maid I was friendly with. Before she could speak, I turned and walked out, my eyes red, my silence heavy. In the drawer of the room lay the birthday gift I had prepared for Seraphina. The late Queen had embroidered a cloak for her. After the Queen’s death, the Seventh Princess had deliberately ruined it. Countless nights, I had seen Seraphina clutching that cloak, sobbing for her mother. There were hundreds of skilled embroiderers in the palace, but not one dared to repair it. It wasn’t a lack of skill; they knew her temper and were afraid to take the job. They all claimed their skills were insufficient, terrified that if their work wasn’t perfect, they would be beaten and thrown out of the palace. I had already repaired half of the cloak, intending to give it to her for her birthday. Seraphina seemed cruel, but she was all bark and no bite. She would feel pity for me. For years, I had meticulously crafted my role, playing the part she needed, unconditionally fulfilling her emotional needs. A sheltered little princess, how could she ever escape the tender trap a hunter had so carefully prepared for her?

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A month ago, King Antonio brought a woman back from outside the palace walls and named her Duchess. The entire court was in an uproar. It was because Antonio had once declared, before all the ladies of the court, that his heart was mine alone. That he would never elevate another to the rank of Duchess. Now, he had broken that sacred vow with his own hands, and the entire court was eagerly awaiting my humiliation. They whispered that he had grown tired of me, that his love had withered on the vine. I traced the petals of a fading rose on the windowsill, a silent, bitter smile touching my lips. They were right. Antonio no longer loved me. Just yesterday, the affection points I had so carefully accumulated—only one point shy of success—had plummeted to zero overnight. All because when the new Duchess, Seraphina, came to pay her respects, I didn’t bid her rise quickly enough. Antonio had walked in on us. His voice was cold. “She is no threat to your position, Nadine. Can you not show the grace of a Queen and stop making things difficult for her?” The old me would have burst into tears, desperately trying to defend myself. But now, I simply nodded, my voice a placid stream. “The Duchess enjoys Your Majesty’s favor. Of course, I would not trouble her.” I immediately decreed that from this day forward, Duchess Seraphina was exempt from paying her respects at the Queen’s Wing. But Antonio’s face darkened further. “Nadine, don’t you see this will only make the court hate her?” I froze, my gaze falling upon the way his brow furrowed, his entire posture protective of her. My mind drifted. So he knew. He knew that to be singled out was to be hated, yet he had placed me on that glittering, lonely pedestal to bask in a warmth that was never truly mine. It didn’t matter now. I bowed my head in gentle submission. “You are right, Your Majesty. It is too great a distinction. Then perhaps the Duchess need not kneel when she comes to call.” The System had told me that if I was docile, obedient, and compliant with Antonio’s wishes, he would be pleased. And if he was pleased, the affection points might rise again. Instead, he flew into a rage, shattering several porcelain vases in the Queen’s Wing. He rounded on me, his voice a raw wound. “Nadine, aren’t you even jealous?” I looked at him, my expression one of pure, placid confusion. “Your Majesty, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted me to be?” Before the System had implanted its protocol, I had asked. “Do I have to go into dormancy? What if Antonio notices something is wrong?” The System’s voice was mechanical, devoid of emotion. “We will act in your stead, becoming the version of you that Antonio most desires. We will maintain this body’s normal functions.” “The version of me he most desires?” “Host, we have analyzed Antonio’s every word of anger towards you and designed a protocol based on that data. It will replace you, and you will become the perfect Queen in his eyes.” I let the fading rose fall from the windowsill, watching it disappear into the courtyard below. Yes. That was it. The things Antonio always raged about were always the same. I was too jealous, too childish, too clingy, too inconsiderate. I was not the ideal Queen he envisioned. Now, the affection points were at zero. The System was preparing to transport me to the next world. He was finally getting his wish. I wiped the last tear from my eye and spoke to the void in my mind. “Begin.” A wave of vertigo washed over me. As the world dissolved into darkness, I heard the System’s final report. [HOST CONSCIOUSNESS… DORMANCY SUCCESSFUL.] [PROTOCOL IMPLANTATION… SUCCESSFUL.] The dead of winter held the castle in its icy grip, blanketing everything in a pristine layer of white. At luncheon, my handmaiden, Bianca, burst into my chambers, her boots tracking snow across the marble floors and startling the doves in the courtyard. “Your Majesty, it’s terrible news! The Royal Physician just left the Sunstone Pavilion. The Duchess… she’s with child!” I set down my paintbrush, discarding the unfinished scroll. My voice was calm, a stark contrast to her panic. “Is that not wonderful news? What is the meaning of this hysteria?” Bianca stared, thinking I must have misheard, and repeated her words, her voice trembling. I unfurled a fresh sheet of parchment, picking up my brush once more. “This is excellent news. The matter of an heir has weighed heavily on me. The Duchess’s pregnancy is a great service to the kingdom. She must be rewarded handsomely. Let this be a reminder to the other ladies of the court to be more diligent in their service to the King.” I continued, my hand steady. “Go to the vaults. Select some of the finest treasures for the Duchess. And take her this painting I have just finished, titled ‘A Mother’s Blessing’.” Bianca gritted her teeth, her hand shaking as she retrieved the key to the treasury box. “Your Majesty, have you forgotten? She stole our choice cuts from the kitchens! She claimed the finest silk meant for you from the looms! She had one of our maids beaten outside the infirmary for collecting your herbal tonics! And the King turned a blind eye to it all, never once punishing her. If she was this brazen before, what will she be like with a royal heir in her belly? She will walk all over you! And you want to send her gifts?” How had I reacted to those incidents before? I had raged. I had pleaded for justice, demanded an explanation. And Antonio had told me I lacked the grace of a true queen. That they were trivial things, not worth disturbing him over. He had ordered me to copy holy scriptures, confined me to my rooms to reflect on my pettiness. I had seethed with injustice then. Now, I only felt that I had indeed been wrong. I sat up straight, a serene smile on my face as I looked at her. “Bianca, I am the Queen. My duty is to be a mother to this nation.” My voice was gentle, but firm. “While the Duchess may have been excessive in the past, I was also at fault. The King was right. As Queen, it is unseemly for me to be possessive, to harbor jealousy, to view the King as my property.” “I have changed. From now on, I will be a model of virtue. I will manage the court with diligence and support my King.” Shortly after Bianca delivered the gifts, an invitation arrived from the Duchess. “Your Majesty,” Bianca said, her voice tight, “the King is so overjoyed about the pregnancy that he is holding a celebratory banquet for the Duchess at the Sunstone Pavilion. Are… are we to attend?” I folded the invitation, my eyes glancing at the new gown the royal weavers had just delivered. “I am the Queen. Of course, I will attend. And I will do so with the utmost grace and decorum.” Bianca understood. She helped me into my most regal gown and dressed my hair in an elaborate style, crowned with the Queen’s coronet. The Sunstone Pavilion was aglow, vibrant with lanterns and alive with music. It was a scene of pure celebration. Bianca’s hand tightened on my arm as she escorted me into the main hall. There, on the dais, in the seat that should have been mine—the one beside the King—sat Duchess Seraphina. Tonight, Antonio was dressed in deep violet, the stark lines of his brow and the sharp angle of his jaw casting him in a severe, handsome light. It only served to make the pregnant Duchess beside him appear all the more delicate and alluring. Bianca’s grip on my arm was a vice, her whisper a furious hiss. “The audacity! She’s using that babe in her belly to usurp your rightful place!” The eyes of every lady in the hall were on me, their faces painted with morbid curiosity. On the dais, Antonio’s gaze flickered towards me, a subtle, challenging glint in his eyes, as if he were waiting for me to make a scene. The Duchess’s smile was pure provocation; she looked as if she was already planning my punishment for disrupting her celebration. I offered a serene smile and a perfect curtsy to the King. “Forgive my tardiness, Your Majesty. I shall drink a cup in penance.” Antonio froze, the wine goblet halfway to his lips. Beside him, Seraphina’s triumphant smirk faltered. She clutched her handkerchief, glancing at Antonio before letting out a tinkling, false laugh. “Oh, my dear Queen, you’ve arrived! Look at this foolish head of mine, pregnancy has made me so forgetful. I seem to have taken your seat. I should be punished, truly.” She cooed, leaning against Antonio’s arm, her eyes flashing with triumph. Antonio looked at me, his expression cold, before wrapping an arm around the Duchess’s waist. “You are the center of tonight’s celebration. It is only right that you sit here.” From across the hall, I could feel the waves of pity washing over me from the other courtiers. For the King to so blatantly disregard decorum for his new favorite… The old me would have turned this hall into a battlefield, a storm of tears and accusations that would have left no one unscathed and stripped Antonio of his dignity. But now… I was to be a model Queen. “You jest, dear Duchess,” I said, my voice carrying clearly through the hall. “I am not so petty.” I continued, my gaze sweeping over the room before landing back on them. “The King is right. You are the star of this evening. Carrying the royal heir is a monumental achievement. Not only should you occupy the seat of honor, but you must also accept these humble gifts from me.” At my signal, servants began to enter in a procession, each carrying a priceless treasure. A root of Kingsfoil, a thousand years old. A string of glowing Lumina Pearls. A vial of powdered Griffin’s Horn. … Each item was from my personal, most cherished collection. Gasps rippled through the banquet hall. There was shock, confusion, and raw envy in their eyes. Even the Duchess was stunned, her hand flying to her mouth. “Your Majesty… all of this… for me?” Antonio’s brow furrowed, his voice a low growl. “Nadine, this is not the time or place for games.” I smiled gently and found an empty seat further down the table. “The Duchess jests. My gifts are quite real. I have been remiss in showing you favor in the past, sister. Now that you have brought such joy to the court, it is only right you be rewarded.” My words left the entire assembly baffled. Tonight, there was no rivalry, no hidden daggers. Only a Queen’s heartfelt blessing for the Duchess. I was the mother of the nation, the Queen that Antonio wanted. Poised, dignified, a paragon of royal virtue. This time, surely, he would be pleased. But he only stared at me, his face an unreadable mask of black anger, before ordering the Duchess to accept the gifts. He gave me one last, deep, inscrutable look before turning away.

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To save my family from the king’s dungeons, I married the Lord Regent—the most feared man in the realm. On our wedding night, the man they whispered was no man at all took me until I teetered on oblivion. The next morning, royal decree in hand, he ordered my House slaughtered. I knelt at his door for three days. “Ten years ago,” he said, ice in his gaze, “your father’s betrayal saw my kin butchered like cattle. This is fate’s wheel turning. Blood owed, paid in blood.” For five years he kept me locked away, tormenting me daily. I held on for my mother’s sake—until he ripped our seven-month child from my womb for his mistress. Seven days before my promised freedom, I stood atop the Spire, wind lashing my robes. And there—the mighty Regent on his knees, begging me not to jump. 01 The moment Damien Vaughn kicked the door open, I had just finished lighting the three memorial candles for our child’s tablet. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron, his expression savage. “Elara, you have some nerve!” “I told you, do not go near Liana. Yet you provoke her, again and again.” “Do you truly believe I won’t do anything to you?” He shoved me violently. My forehead struck the edge of the wooden table behind me, and a painful, red welt immediately began to form. But I acted as if I felt nothing. I slowly sank to my knees before him, pressing my bruised forehead to the cold stone floor. “I am sorry.” Damien’s eyes tightened. He instinctively reached out to help me up, but the moment his fingers brushed my arm, he flinched back. As if he had touched something foul, he snatched his hand away and hid it behind his back. “What game are you playing now, Elara?” I shook my head, my voice as still and dead as a winter lake. “No game. It is my duty to see to Lady Liana.” “Whatever has befallen her, I accept the blame.” It was always this way. He never investigated anything concerning Liana; he simply decreed it was my fault. If Liana had a headache, he claimed it was because our stars were crossed in ill-omen. If Liana sprained her ankle, he accused me of deliberately placing loose stones on the path. And two days ago, when Liana miscarried, and the royal physician found saffron in her tonic… He didn’t need proof. He declared I had done it out of jealousy and spite. He was the one who held the bitter draught to my lips, forcing me to drink. He was the one who ordered the midwife to tear our seven-month-old child from my body, to serve as a companion for Liana’s lost baby in the cold earth. The thought of that unborn child sent a wave of grief so profound through me that I nearly collapsed. I bit down hard on my lip, just to maintain the last shred of composure in his presence. Experience had taught me that any display of weakness would be seen as another ploy, another attempt to manipulate him with pity. The candles on the table burned out. Damien’s gaze swept over them and fell upon the child’s memorial tablet. His face contorted. He strode forward, lifted me without a word, and threw me onto the bed, his hands moving to the ties of my bodice. I could smell it on his collar—the cloying scent of Liana’s favorite perfume. I caught his hand, my eyes meeting his with a strange calm. “My body has not yet healed. Perhaps another day.” Damien froze, then his eyes raked over me, a deep, mocking sneer spreading across his face. He leaned in close, his whisper a venomous caress against my ear. “Elara, besides this body of yours, what other value do you possess?” A chill pierced me to the bone. Ignoring my trembling, Damien ripped away the last of my clothing. The bed canopy fell, casting the room in wavering, uncertain light. His face, devoid of passion, was reflected in my tear-filled, numb eyes. I couldn’t deny it. I loved Damien Vaughn. He was the brilliant, beautiful boy who had dazzled my youth. He was the man I had defied my parents for, kneeling outside their door for three days and nights, determined to marry. But I couldn’t help but hate him, too. He had seduced me into his trap, only to send my entire family to the gallows. He had personally overseen the execution of my parents and a hundred other members of House Sutton. He had kept me a prisoner for five years, shaming and torturing me, day after endless day. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought of death. But five years ago, in that dark, cold dungeon, my mother had clutched my hand, her face streaked with tears. “Elara, my darling,” she had wept, “I only ask one thing of you. No matter what, you must live.” “I will wait for you on the shores of the afterlife for five years. If, after five years, you still have not found a reason to live, then you may come and find me.” My mother hoped that promise of five years would give me a reason to hope, a reason to survive. Even the coming of our child… I had allowed myself to believe it was a glimmer of light my mother had sent me from beyond. But that fragile flame had been ruthlessly snuffed out by Damien. And now, there were five days left until my five years were up. 02 When I woke the next day, Damien, contrary to his usual habit, had not left. He had summoned two maids. One held a steaming bowl of a foul-smelling tonic. “Elara, that child… it was an accident.” “You should understand. You are not worthy of bearing a child of House Vaughn.” Damien was right. I wasn’t worthy. My father was the man who had framed his, leading to the unjust deaths of one hundred and eight innocent people. If Damien hadn’t been blind drunk seven months ago, on the anniversary of his family’s execution, I never would have conceived. But that night, cradled in his arms, he had suddenly begun to weep. “When they purged my House, my little brother was only three. They dragged him to the execution block… and his head rolled in the dirt.” “My sister… she was three days from marrying the man she loved.” “But because of your father’s lies, she was defiled by the guards in her cell. She took her own life in despair.” “If I hadn’t been fostered at the Abbey as a boy, I would have died with them.” “And my family would have been cursed by the people for generations, branded as traitors for a hundred, a thousand years to come.” “Elara, shouldn’t I hate you?” “But, Elara… what am I supposed to do?” I knew in my heart that Damien was just like me. He loved, and he hated. The bond between us was a knot that could never be untied, only severed. I lowered my eyes, took the bowl with both hands, and drank the barren-womb draught in one gulp. A single, wrapped candy fell onto the bedsheets beside me. It was from the confectioner on the East Gate, my favorite. Damien used to buy them for me all the time. Even if it meant waiting in line for hours. I clutched the candy, a sudden, sharp ache in my chest. He always did this. Just when my heart had turned to ash, he would casually light a small lamp. Then blow it out. Then light it again. And blow it out again. Over and over, making my life a torment. Making death an escape I couldn’t quite reach. My hand, hidden in my sleeve, clenched into a fist. I wanted to say something, but when I looked up, all I saw was his retreating back. The two maids whispered to each other. “The daughter of an enemy. I can’t imagine why the Lord Regent keeps her here.” “If it were me, I’d have had her flayed and quartered long ago. Instead, he feeds her, clothes her, lets her play the lady of the manor!” They made no attempt to hide their scorn. The words were meant for me. After they left, the vast room was empty again, except for me and the child’s tablet on the table. … For the next few days, I didn’t see Damien. The servants whispered that Lady Liana had caught a chill, that her head was splitting with pain. Damien stayed by her side the entire time, caring for her diligently. On the final day of my five-year promise, the estate’s steward pushed open my door. “The Lady Liana wishes to plant a winter rose garden. She has commanded that you are to go and turn over all the soil in the back garden.” My head snapped up. The back garden. That’s where I buried my child’s body. 03 By the time I stumbled into the back garden, Liana had already directed the groundskeepers to dig up half the frozen earth. “Stop! All of you, stop!” I screamed, heedless of my appearance. But the servants knew my place in this house. They paid me no mind. I rushed to Liana. “Tell them to stop! Make them stop now!” Liana waved a dismissive hand, and two of her personal guards pulled me away. She toyed with a string of pearls, a light, cruel laugh on her lips. “A wretched little thing like that doesn’t deserve to be buried in the hallowed grounds of this estate.” “The frost is deep, and the beasts in the forest are hungry. Once we dig the little beast up, we can toss it to them. Consider it an act of charity.” Her words struck me like a physical blow. I was filled with a blinding rage. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free from the guards and seized the front of Liana’s dress. “Liana, you took my child from me. I’ll kill you!” I pulled the simple wooden pin from my hair and lunged, aiming for her throat. The pin had barely scratched her delicate skin when a powerful hand shoved me from behind. I slammed into a stone bench, and in an instant, the cold steel of a dozen swords was at my throat. Liana, feigning terror, collapsed into Damien’s arms, sobbing. “Damien, my love, you came just in time! If you hadn’t, I would never have seen you again.” Damien’s brow was a knot of fury, but his eyes were fixed on me, silent and unreadable. I ignored the animosity between us, my voice a desperate plea. “Damien, please. I beg you, make them stop.” “Punish me however you want, I’ll accept anything, but that is my child!” “Damien… he is our child…” Ignoring the blades at my neck, I crawled step by agonizing step and knelt at his feet. I clutched the hem of his trousers, my voice a raw, ugly rasp. “He was a boy, Damien. He will never learn to ride a horse or draw a bow now…” In countless nights past, Damien had kissed my hair and whispered in my ear: “Elara, my love, when we have a child…” “If it’s a boy, I will teach him to ride and shoot.” “If it’s a girl, you will teach her poetry and song.” But now, our child never even had the chance to see this world. The memory must have struck Damien too, because his pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively glanced at the ravaged garden, his face shadowed and dark. Liana sensed his hesitation. She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Damien, the Master Physician came yesterday. He said my ceaseless headaches are caused by the unquiet spirit of a dead infant buried on the grounds.” “It was foolish of me. I was only thinking of myself, not of my lady’s feelings.” “If she truly cannot bear it, I suppose I can continue to suffer…” I didn’t hear another word she said. All I saw was a groundskeeper unearthing a small bundle wrapped in red cloth. The searing crimson made my tears fall anew. I tugged desperately at Damien’s leg. “Damien, if you just spare my child…” “I will give up my position as your wife. I will give it to Liana!” “My wife?” Damien’s brow furrowed, and then a storm of fury erupted in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. “Elara, does the title of Lady Vaughn disgust you so much?” I knelt there, sobbing too hard to speak. His lips thinned into a white line, his face ashen. Suddenly, he let out a harsh, barking laugh. “You are truly something else!” “A dead infant is an ill omen. To leave it here will only bring disaster upon this house. Men! Bring me tinder and dry branches…” Damien squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the raw crimson within them. He bit out each word. “Burn it. On the spot.”

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I had my heart set on a diamond ring at the auction, the one I’d chosen to be my wedding ring. A symbol of my future with Damian. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Damian sponsored always outbid me by a single dollar. Damian just smiled, a picture of helpless affection. “Darling,” he murmured, his voice a low thrum against my ear. “You know how she is with shiny things. Just let her have it. Be good.” In response, I lit the lamp. Zoe fled the hall that day, tears streaming down her face. Damian simply kissed my forehead, a soft, forgiving gesture. “My feisty girl,” he chuckled. He didn’t chase after Zoe. In the year that followed our wedding, he was an insatiable, inventive lover, claiming my body night after night, never giving me a moment’s peace. Then, today, an invitation arrived for a private auction. And there it was, projected onto a massive screen for all to see: a photo of me, lost in ecstasy beneath Damian. A trophy. Damian’s arm was wrapped possessively around Zoe’s waist. He looked at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “You love to light the lamp, don’t you? Well, here are three hundred and sixty-five photos. If you don’t want them falling into other hands, you’d better start bidding.” … I stood frozen in the auction hall, surrounded by dozens of men, their leering eyes fixed on the screen as they traded vulgar comments. “Damn, she’s pure filth! And here I thought I’d seen it all. First time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk. Who would’ve thought? Aria Ashton looks so pure, but in bed, she’s wilder than a professional. And to think she has the nerve to tell us to get lost if we even get close.” “Damian, you lucky bastard. You’ve really broken in the precious daughter of the esteemed Ashton family, haven’t you?” a man said, winking at Damian, who was seated in the place of honor at the front. My fists clenched, my body trembling as I forced myself to turn and face my husband. In the seat beside him, the one that should have been mine, sat Zoe. Damian didn’t even try to hide it. His lips curled into a lazy, satisfied smile. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice smooth as velvet, “a full video of that night will be included as a bonus.” “A man of taste and generosity!” The room erupted. Damian’s gaze locked onto mine, his handsome features alight with amusement. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you, you can light the lamp. Three hundred and sixty-five times. Take your time.” “Come on, Damian, you must know! The Ashton family went bankrupt. She’s got next to nothing left!” someone shouted from the crowd. “To light the lamp costs fifty million a pop! She’d be lucky to have a hundred million to her name right now!” Damian raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Tsk! What a shame. Three hundred and sixty-five photos, each one a masterpiece. Honestly, I’d be tempted to buy them all myself for… private study.” A man stroked his chin, sighing dramatically. “Too bad the only one here with that kind of cash is Damian himself.” Damian just laughed and held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please. Thorne Industries will not be bidding on any lots tonight. All proceeds will be donated to charity. Enjoy yourselves.” A wave of cheers washed through the hall. “Now that’s a true philanthropist! Good thing Thorne Industries quietly squeezed out all the Ashton’s business partners, or we might not be getting our hands on these photos today!” “What’s there to worry about? There are dozens of us. We can all get a piece!” “No way! That third one is a work of art. I’m taking that one, no matter the cost!” My voice was a strangled whisper, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I stared at Damian, the reality of his betrayal crashing down on me. “Ashton Industries… it was you? You’re the one who destroyed my family?” He simply held my gaze, that chilling smirk never leaving his face. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Why?” I croaked, my voice raw. “Just because I lit the lamp that one time, a year ago?” He ignored my anguish, picking up the microphone. “We’re on a schedule, Ms. Ashton. If you’re not going to participate, I’ll let my friends begin.” The men watched me, their eyes filled with a predatory hunger. Every single person in this room was a titan of industry. The hundred million I had left, my entire fortune, was probably what they spent on a weekend getaway. How could I possibly compete with them? “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” I wiped my tears away, turning and walking out before I completely shattered. I was afraid I would start screaming and never stop. A chorus of jeering laughter followed me. “Look at that, even a whore can feel shame, hahaha!” “Damian, don’t wait for her. What’s a hundred million to us? She’s just making an excuse to run away.” “All of you, shut up,” Damian’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the doorway I had just disappeared through. The room fell silent. A few minutes later, I pushed the door open. Under the stunned gaze of every man in the room, I returned to my seat, my eyes still red and swollen. “Let’s begin.” Damian shot me a look, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To better display the “exhibits,” the main screen had been expanded into a panoramic, wrap-around display, ensuring my humiliation was visible from every angle, in a constantly rotating slideshow of my most vulnerable moments. “The first photo,” the auctioneer announced with a sleazy grin. “Bidding starts at two million.” The room buzzed with excitement. “Sublime! Absolutely sublime! She’s an artist, that one. The ‘proper’ ones are always the freakiest.” “Two and a half million!” The auctioneer just smiled, and with a flick of his wrist, a block of text appeared on the screen next to the photo. I shot to my feet. It was a lurid, play-by-play of our wedding night, written with an intimacy and detail that… There was only one other person who could have written that. My trembling gaze found Damian. He sat there, a mask of detached amusement on his face as if he were a mere spectator. Only when Zoe leaned in to whisper something in his ear did his expression soften, his eyes filling with a tenderness he never showed me. The whispers and snickers around me were a physical force, threatening to drown me. “I thought the photos were hot, but the story is even better! Don’t you dare fight me on this one! Five million! I want that video!” “Six million!” “If she’s this wild on the first night, I can’t even imagine what came next… Tsk, tsk! Ten million!” “Light the lamp.” My own voice was a ghost of a sound, shaking but clear. Every head in the room swiveled towards me. The auctioneer’s professional smile faltered for a second. “Number 38 lights the lamp. Are you sure?” I sank back into my chair, feeling drained. “I’m sure.” “Tsk! A damn shame. That video must be incredible.” “What are you worried about? How many more can she afford?” “Exactly. She only gets better with practice. The later ones will be worth the wait.” “Number 38 lights the lamp! Congratulations to Ms. Ashton on her acquisition of the accompanying video!” I closed my eyes, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought they would draw blood. The screen immediately flashed to the second photo, complete with another graphic description. “The second photo! Bidding starts at two million!” The room was on fire now. “Is this for real? This is better than any of my ‘educational materials’!” A man sitting near me leaned in close. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re full of surprises. So prim and proper on the outside, but you’re just a slut in private, aren’t you?” I shot him a venomous glare, and he roared with laughter. “Oh, I like that fire! If Damian doesn’t want you, I’ll take you. I’ll even help you with a bid, how about it?” “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, my voice cold enough to freeze hell. He just snorted and leaned back. “Playing hard to get? You’re used goods, sweetheart. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light… the lamp.” I don’t know where I found the strength to say it. The auctioneer gave me a long, meaningful look. “Number 38 lights the lamp!” As the sale was finalized, his professional smile returned, now laced with condescension. “That’s two lamps lit, Ms. Ashton. According to our verification, that leaves you with a cash flow of less than five million dollars, correct?” My voice was flat, lifeless. “Continue.” “Hah.” A flicker of undisguised contempt crossed his face before he presented the third photo. “The third photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Light the lamp.” At the sound of my voice, the entire room stared at me in disbelief. The auctioneer’s face hardened. “Ms. Ashton, your initial verification showed a net worth of one hundred and four million. You’ve already spent one hundred million. You do not have sufficient funds.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, darling. I’ll light it for you.” I ignored them all, my gaze fixed on Damian. He was watching me too. But there was no hint of pity in his eyes, only a smug, derisive curl of his lip. Everyone looked from me to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why is everyone looking at me?” Damian asked, a lazy drawl in his voice. “I already said, the floor is yours tonight.” The men breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Our thanks to Mr. Thorne for his generosity!” Just then, Zoe, who had been silent beside him, raised her hand. “I’ll do it. I’ll light the lamp for my sister.” Damian looked at her, a brief flash of surprise giving way to an undisguised, warm smile. Zoe turned to me. “After all, Aria sponsored my studies abroad. I can’t just stand by and not repay her kindness, can I?” The smile in Damian’s eyes deepened. Staring at Zoe, the icy wall he always kept up seemed to melt away completely. The room erupted in a chorus of sycophantic approval. “No wonder Damian adores Zoe! Who wouldn’t love a girl that sweet and obedient?” “Zoe is such a good girl. She blushes if you even tell a dirty joke. Not like some people, tsk tsk!” Their pointed gazes were like daggers in my back. A triumphant smirk flickered across Zoe’s lips before she masked it with a look of concern. “Don’t worry, Aria.” “What a performance.” She blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “This is how you repay me? By stealing my husband and my seat?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice dripping with ice. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t fallen so low that I need help from a backstabbing whore and a monster.” “Aria.” It was the first time Damian had spoken to me directly, and his tone was so cold it was like he was speaking to a stranger. I shot him a withering look before turning to the auctioneer. “I’m the one lighting the lamp. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The auctioneer hesitated. “If you insist, we would have to include your real estate assets. But since Ashton Industries went bankrupt, their value has plummeted. It might just barely cover the fifty million.” “Then do it. Stop wasting my time.” “Tsk, tsk. The woman’s gone insane.” The men shook their heads, their voices laced with pity and mockery. “Giving up the roof over her head just to save face. What a shame, that third photo was my favorite.” “Don’t worry about it. We haven’t even gotten through a fraction of them. There are over three hundred left. What’s the rush?” “Right? I got a sneak peek. The later ones are so depraved she barely looks human, hahaha!” Their stares, a mixture of pity and scorn, bore down on me. “A cornered animal, fighting to the last.” “Next round, she’ll have no choice but to watch us buy up her filth.” “Tsk, tsk. I wonder what her face will look like then. Will it be the same expression she has in bed with Damian?” The snickering was relentless. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my hands clenched into tight fists, and looked up at the auctioneer. The fourth photo flashed onto the screen. “The fourth photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Oh, now this one I really like! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light the lamp,” I said again. Every eye in the room was on me. The auctioneer’s smile was strained to the breaking point.

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I’m a travel vlogger. On that sweltering All Souls’ Eve, the zoo’s “Hungry Ghost Gate” (a rusted Victorian arch) creaked open by itself. The fortune-teller—a defrocked Jesuit who studied Taoism—warned me: “That macaque’s yang lifespan is draining. It is kowtowing to you to borrow your life.” So I knelt like a confessing sinner and headbutted the ground until the cobblestones wept blood. Forty-seven strikes. A Catholic-Asian exorcism. 1 I’m a travel vlogger. On a sweltering All Souls’ Eve, while the rest of the city was shuttered in, I was still live-streaming from the Blackwood Zoo, grinding to leave my competition in the dust. The sun bled across the horizon, painting the empty pathways in shades of orange and blood. I was in the primate house, pointing my front-facing camera at a lone macaque, when I connected with the biggest paranormal streamer on the web. He went by “Master Shanyuan,” a name he’d adopted after his time studying Taoism. Rumor had it he was a defrocked Jesuit, which only added to his mystique. On screen, he was the spitting image of an ancient sage—a young man with long, dark hair tied back in a scholar’s knot, clad in flowing silken robes. He looked the part, and then some. “Master Shanyuan, hey! It’s Chloe,” I said, forcing a cheerful grin. “Tonight, we’re checking out the monkeys.” I panned the camera back to the macaque. Shanyuan’s serene expression tightened. His brow furrowed, his face turning grim. “That’s one of the Old Ones,” he said, his voice a low hum. “A relic from a forgotten time. Long ago, the Monkey King himself stormed the underworld and struck its name from the Ledger of Souls. It lives, but its yang lifespan has run dry.” My chat lit up. 【what is this, a halloween special??】 I glanced back at the monkey. Its fur was sleek, but its back was hunched, its movements ancient and weary. Its eyes, cold and dark, were locked onto me. And then it began to bow. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed unnervingly in the silent enclosure. It was prostrating itself, its forehead hitting the concrete floor with a sickening rhythm. “It’s kowtowing to you,” Shanyuan said, his voice flat, like a newscaster reporting a tragedy. “Begging to borrow your life.” “One year. Two years.” I spun around, dropped to my knees, and started kowtowing right back at it. “GIVE ME MY YEARS BACK, YOU FURRY LITTLE DEMON! GIVE THEM BACK!” I slammed my forehead into the ground—fast, hard, precise. The ghostly monkey froze mid-kowtow, its jaw slack with astonishment. Shanyuan deadpanned, “I… don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work.” He continued his emotionless countdown. “Negative one year. Negative two years.” The monkey snapped out of its stupor. We stared each other down, a bizarre duel of frantic prostration. But it was old, its movements stiff. It couldn’t keep up with the raw, desperate energy of a vlogger fighting for her life. Smoke seemed to curl from its wrinkled brow as it struggled to match my pace. 【lmao a vlogger and a monkey in a kowtow battle, is this real life??】 【i’m not even paying for this content, i feel like i’m stealing】 “If you haven’t followed yet, now’s the time, people!” I yelled between headbutts, my voice strained. “Hit that button and power up your girl!” I was young, I was fit, and I was terrified. I out-bowed that monkey by a full forty-seven strikes. With one final, wheezing gasp, it collapsed, its borrowed time exhausted. I had reverse-uno’d death itself. Shanyuan’s gaze drifted to the dying sun behind me. “The park is closing. You need to leave before the last light fades.” “The parrots here… only one of them tells the truth.” “And whatever you do,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, “do not make eye contact with the pythons.” He paused, cleared his throat, and his entire demeanor shifted into a slick, commercial drone. “And hey, if you run into any… ‘technical difficulties,’ head on over to the Azure Sky Priory’s online shop. We’ve got talismans, wards, the whole shebang. Group discounts as low as $9.99 a pop, folks.” 2 I scrambled to my feet and started back the way I came. The first enclosure on my route was the Reptile House. A colossal python, thick as a tree trunk, was coiled behind a wall of reinforced glass. I fumbled in my bag, pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses, and slapped them on. Then I strode past with all the fake bravado I could muster. 【wait, that actually works? XD】 【CHLOE, BEHIND YOU!!】 【OMG OMG OMG WHAT IS THAT THING】 I whipped my head around. There, clinging to the branches of a gnarled oak tree, was the monkey. The one I’d just kowtowed into oblivion. It was back. It scrabbled on all fours, a dark, twitching horror, its body moving in a way that defied nature. A guttural screech tore from its throat. Did it just buy a respawn? Seriously? This thing was more persistent than a pop-up ad. “It just took a quick trip to the Underworld’s antechamber,” Shanyuan explained calmly from my phone. “But its name isn’t in the Ledger of Souls, so they kicked it right back out.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I broke into a dead sprint. “So what’s the play here?!” I gasped, my lungs burning. “My professional advice,” he said, “would be to run faster than it does.” “Are you kidding me?!” The monkey gave chase while I ran for my life, vaulting over benches and dodging possessed popcorn stands. Finally, I leaned against a wall, wheezing. This couldn’t go on. I quickly edited my stream description: 【Travel Vlogger Takes On The Underworld. Zero Experience.】 It was immediately flagged and removed for violating community guidelines. “Son of a…” My fingers flew across the screen, pulling up the Azure Sky Priory’s online shop. The talismans were all sold out. My chat was a flood of comments. 【Ooh, a talisman? Dibs.】 【Home alone and officially creeped out. Adding to cart.】 You guys couldn’t have left one for me?! Shanyuan spoke up. “If you’d like to see this item restocked, smash that ‘like’ button, friends. If we get enough interest, I’ll have my apprentice whip up another batch.” DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’M DEALING WITH RIGHT NOW?! His apprentice’s head popped into the frame. “For our more… impatient patrons, a generous donation will get you a custom-drawn sigil, live and on the spot.” I didn’t hesitate. I tipped five hundred dollars. Shanyuan lifted his brush, dipped it in what looked like crimson ink, and began to paint. The lines were fluid, ancient. When he was done, he held the finished sigil up to the camera. It seemed to pulse with a faint light. “Show this to the monkey,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “Ah, a truly perfect specimen.” I cranked my phone’s brightness to max and shoved it in the monkey’s face. It froze, its shrieking dying in its throat. A thin wisp of smoke began to curl from its fur. That was my cue. I ran. 3 The next area was the aviary. A row of parrots perched on a branch, their heads cocked. As I passed, they started talking. “Your favorite ship is queerbait.” “The day before my wedding, I found out my fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor.” “I am the last heir of the Romanov dynasty. Venmo me $500 for a train ticket to my hidden vault, and I will make you a Duke when I reclaim my throne.” “The McDonald’s ice cream machine is broken. Again.” I ignored them all. Finally, one parrot, its feathers matted with something dark and wet, preened itself and spoke in a chillingly clear voice. “There’s no signal in this park. And the man you’re talking to? He’s not alive.” I wanted to reach out and clamp its beak shut. Way to be a buzzkill, you feathered menace. Shanyuan was my only lifeline in this godforsaken place. I stopped in my tracks and spun to face the bird, my voice ringing with indignation. “You take that back! Don’t you dare try to drive a wedge between us! Everyone in my chat, all my viewers… they’re my family! They’re the only reason I’m still going!” The parrot just stared at me. “…” Then it spat. “Ptooey. Simp.” 【LMAOOOO a parrot trying to stir up drama】 【omg that trust… i’m crying chloe we love you】 【I’ve been a sub for three years, I knew I picked the right streamer!】 【Fake fan alert, she’s only been streaming for two years.】 The warmth in the chat settled my frayed nerves. I turned my back on the squawking parrot and pushed onward. 4 The last vestiges of sunset vanished. The sky was now a deep, starless black. Ghostly lamps flickered to life along the path, their light as pale and weak as foxfire. “The park is officially closed,” Shanyuan announced. “The paths will grow longer from here on out.” His apprentice popped back on screen. “Care for a reading? A little divination to see what the road ahead holds?” I stared at the yawning, black entrance to the Tiger Territory. My heart hammered against my ribs. Gritting my teeth, I sent another five-hundred-dollar tip. Shanyuan produced a turtle shell and a handful of old coins. He shook them, the rattle echoing from my phone’s speaker, and cast them onto a silk cloth. He studied the pattern. “Do not buy anything from the groundskeeper. Your currencies are not compatible.” I switched on my phone’s flashlight, cutting a weak beam into the oppressive darkness. A figure stood silhouetted at the entrance to the tiger enclosure. 【That must be the groundskeeper he mentioned.】 【NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE. TURN BACK!】 My legs refused to move. “Demons and ghouls, get thee hence! By bell, book, and candle, I command thee!” I mumbled a panicked, half-remembered exorcism and took two shaky steps forward. The shadow glided toward me. A terrifying, mutual advance. My knees were knocking together so hard I was surprised I was still standing. The figure stopped right in front of me. “Just gonna, uh, pixelate this for you guys at home,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t want to give anyone nightmares.” 【I’m crying, she’s still thinking of us.】 【What a sweetheart.】 I censored the feed and looked up. The groundskeeper’s face was bloodless, a stiff, waxen mask. He offered a smile so wide it looked like it had cracked the corners of his mouth. In one hand, he held a dripping, freshly killed chicken. “Buy a chicken for the tigers? Only twenty bucks,” he rasped. Shanyuan said not to buy anything. But he didn’t say anything about getting it for free. Time to swallow my pride. “I’m a student,” I said, my voice cracking convincingly. “Can you spot me?” The groundskeeper blinked. “?” I leaned into it. “My family’s dirt poor. I’ve got my eighty-year-old grandma and my three-year-old brother to support. Please, sir, just give it to me.” His words came out in a halting, confused stutter. “How… how big is the age gap between your mother and your brother?” Tears started welling in my eyes. “It’s a long story. My mom’s not my real mom, and my brother’s not my real brother…” The floodgates opened. I wept with the force of a Greek tragedy. “Okay, okay! Just take it!” the groundskeeper groaned, shoving the chicken into my hands. He turned and shuffled away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. 【Our girl has at least a decade of scamming experience.】 【LMAO who scams a GHOST?】 【Poor groundskeeper never stood a chance.】 I let out a shaky breath and walked on, clutching my ill-gotten chicken. 5 Three tigers paced in the enclosure, so starved they were little more than striped skeletons. But I only had one chicken. I stood at the entrance, stumped. “Okay, chat,” I said into my phone. “Three tigers, one chicken. Give me your best high-EQ solutions.” The chat exploded with suggestions. 【Whisper in their ear: ‘I’m a high-EQ individual, let me have this one.’】 【Tell them they have spinach in their teeth.】 【Just hang yourself at the gate to assert dominance.】 【Kneel and beg the tigers not to embarrass you.】 After a minute of scrolling, I decided to go with the kindergarten teacher approach. I held the chicken aloft. “Alright, let’s see which of my little tiger-wiger cubs is the goodest boy today!” All three skeletal tigers padded over, their eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “Okay, sit! Stand! Now, shake paws with the tiger next to you. Very good! You were the best listener, so you get the chicken!” I tossed the chicken over the fence. As I dusted off my hands, ready to make a clean getaway, a ferocious roar ripped through the air. 【SHIT, RUN! The other two are coming for you!】 【GO, CHLOE, GO!】 I glanced over my shoulder. The two starving tigers had burst out of the enclosure. They had torn the damn gate off its hinges and were carrying it on their backs, a clanging, terrifying battering ram chasing me down the path. This generation of tigers had zero chill. Absolutely no respect for the rules. Thankfully, they were weak from hunger and couldn’t run very fast. “Hey! You! The one with the chicken!” I yelled back at the enclosure. “A little help here!” The well-fed tiger trotted out and padded up beside me. “Down, boy,” I commanded. It obeyed. I swung myself onto its back. “Alright, buddy. Let’s lose these guys.” 【NO WAY, did that just happen?!】 【She’s a natural-born tiger whisperer.】 【Kindergarten Teacher strat for the win!】 6 I escaped the Tiger Territory, my heart still pounding. The next stop was the Peacock Garden. Shanyuan’s apprentice reappeared. “Another reading, vlogger? Second one’s half price.” “If I only get one, I save two-hundred-and-fifty bucks,” I shot back. “Sorry, no can do,” he said smugly. “This area has two rules.” My chat could see the despair on my face. 【Looks like she has no choice but to pay up.】 I was going to cry. This was the first time I’d ever paid a streamer during a collab. With a heavy heart, I sent another seven hundred and fifty. Shanyuan began the reading. “First rule: do not look at a peacock when its tail is fanned.” “What happens if I do?” I asked, dreading the answer. “…You become part of the display.” He cleared his throat. “Second rule: do not accept a peacock’s mating proposal.” “Huh?” Who in their right mind would do that? 【LMAO do not accept a peacock’s mating proposal】 【Is that a thing? Do people do that?】 I put my sunglasses back on and tried to stroll casually past the enclosure. A man stepped out, blocking my path. He was… stunning. Unnaturally so. Pale, luminous skin, piercing emerald eyes, a face that belonged on a magazine cover. 【Okay who is THIS? Say yes. Just say yes.】 【I take it back. I would accept.】 He flashed a smarmy, practiced smile. “The more I look at you, the more I hate you… for being so damn enchanting.” 【Ew. So greasy.】 【Never mind, the ones who wanted to say yes have gone quiet.】 I stared at him blankly. “…” Oh. So this was the peacock. He leaned a hand against a wall, striking a pose. “The pickup lines might be stolen, but my love for you is real.” I wished I had a bottle of dish soap to degrease him. Instead, I rummaged in my bag, found a packet of oil-blotting sheets, and tossed them at his face. He let out a high-pitched shriek and exploded into a flurry of feathers, transforming back into a giant peacock. “I don’t believe it! No one can resist my charms!” he squawked, and then fanned his tail. It wasn’t just feathers. The intricate patterns were eyes. Not patterns that looked like eyes. Actual, literal eyes. Hundreds of them, each one winking, throwing me a flirtatious, sickening glance. My stomach churned. I whipped out my phone and blasted him with the flashlight. “Hey! Have you no decency?!” he screeched, scrambling away. “You can’t just shine a bright light in a celebrity’s eyes!” 7 I made it out of the Peacock Garden, feeling thoroughly violated. The next area was the Elephant Enclosure. I was exhausted. This was not fun anymore. The apprentice’s voice piped up, sounding bored. “I’m tired of the script. Let’s cut to the chase. Buy two prophecies, get one free.” A pit formed in my stomach. Why were the rules multiplying? 【LMAO the look on her face is priceless】 【Tipping one dollar to help our girl get through this.】 【I’ll match that and raise you another dollar.】 So tired. When I get out of here, I’m becoming a paranormal streamer. The money’s insane. I sent another thousand dollars into the digital ether. Shanyuan began. “One: There is only one zookeeper. Two: Of the two paths out, take the one heading south. Three: I have miscalculated one of my prophecies.” “Excuse me?” My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. 【my head hurts, am i growing a brain?】 【crowdfunding brain cells, i don’t get the rules either.】 “Can I get a refund on the miscalculated prophecy?” I asked. The apprentice sniffed. “All sales are final, ma’am.” “Then I’ll call my credit card company and issue a chargeback.” “These are virtual goods, dear,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Once rendered, they are non-refundable.” I played my last card. “My little brother used my phone. He’s a minor.” 【IS THAT HOW YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO USE THE MINOR REFUND EXCUSE LMAO】 【Fighting fire with fire, I respect it.】 Shanyuan was silent. The apprentice, through gritted teeth, said, “Fine. Refund issued.” A notification popped up on my screen. 【Refund Successful. Product: “I have miscalculated one of my prophecies.”】 Sneaky. So very sneaky. That was the wrong prophecy. The lie was the prophecy itself. I immediately sent the money back. 【I’m returning the freebie instead.】 【Class act. A truly honest streamer.】 With my path clear, I headed south. Halfway there, the zookeeper appeared. A ring of keys hung from his belt, and he carried a bunch of bananas. His skin had a sickly green-blue tint. “This path is under maintenance,” he droned, his voice hollow. “Please head east.” I ignored him and kept walking. Blood began to seep from the corners of his mouth. A low gurgle started in his throat. “WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! WHY!” I stopped, spun on my heel, and walked back, offering a polite bow. “You’re so right, my apologies. I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say.” He looked pleased. Humming a tuneless melody, he continued his patrol, swinging his keys. 【Team Coward gets a major win!】 【That’s not cowardice, that’s high EQ.】 The blood-leaking thing was way too terrifying. I wasn’t about to get murdered on the spot. In the Elephant Enclosure, I saw another zookeeper. This one was feeding an elephant, happily singing. “Oh, Mr. Elephant, Mr. Elephant, why is your trunk so very long?” The tune was oddly familiar. As I passed, he looked up at me, his eyes surprisingly clear. “Hey, miss,” he said. “Do you like green peppers?” I shook my head. “Hate ’em.” His face lit up. “Me too!” 【he looks so familiar… lmao】 【i know exactly who you’re thinking of】 8 We chatted for a while, completely ignoring the giant elephant beside us. “Well, I should get going,” I finally said. He dusted himself off. “I’ll see you out.” “I wanted to take the south path.” He looked troubled. “The south path is a no-go. There’s a guy watching it.” “Tell him to stop watching it.” “He’s really scary,” he mumbled. “I don’t dare.” We stood there in awkward silence. I pulled out my phone again. “Master Shanyuan, any ideas?” The apprentice rolled his eyes. “You got a refund. You’re on our block list.” Shanyuan sighed. “Check my shopping cart link.” I scrolled through the online store for what felt like an eternity before grimly selecting the cheapest Immobilization Talisman. I marched back toward the south path. The blood-leaking zookeeper snarled. “You dare return?” I held up my phone, the glowing talisman displayed on screen. “Red light, green light, one, two, three!” He froze solid. But the second I lowered my phone, his face contorted in rage and he lunged. I had no choice. I held the phone high above my head, screen facing him, and began walking backward, one painstaking step at a time, out of the enclosure. Once I was through the gate, I dropped my arm. He charged. CLANG! I slammed the gate shut. His momentum carried him forward, and he ended up comically embedded in the chain-link fence, struggling like a fish in a net. “Maybe you’ll think twice before scaring people,” I muttered, turning away.

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