Category: English

The night Lydia Blackwood’s beloved, Celeste, coughed incessantly, I knew what was coming. They whispered that the heart of a serpentine familiar could cure any ailment, any lung rot. So Lydia ordered my ancient familiar, the very viper that had been coiled around my wrist for eons, to be cleaved in two. Its living heart, still beating, was ripped from its flesh. Eons of arcane power, cultivated over millennia, evaporated in an instant, turning to ash. My eyes widened, bloodshot with horror, as I desperately tried to shield my familiar, to protect the dying serpent. “You know my true nature!” I pleaded, my voice raw, a choked gasp. “You know that if the viper vanishes, if its essence is destroyed, I cannot survive in this world!” But Lydia only sneered, a cold, mocking laugh. Right before my eyes, she peeled away its iridescent scales, flaying it alive. “Only Grandmother would believe your wretched lies,” she spat, contempt dripping from every word. “Do you really think you can deceive me with such theatrics? It’s just a common snake, after all. I’ll buy you another one, a dozen even.” By morning, my hair had turned stark white. Clutching the jar containing the remnants of my familiar, I sought out Lady Blackwood. “I have shielded House Blackwood from its final calamity,” I stated, my voice hollow, echoing the emptiness within. “I have settled the debt of gratitude for your mother saving my life a century ago. Now, my physical form is ruined, and I can no longer offer my protection to this lineage. Release me.” … An ethereal mist curled slowly upwards from the severed halves of the viper. The healer shook his head, his face grim. “A strike to its life-force. Whoever severed this familiar knew exactly how to extinguish its essence completely. There’s no saving it now.” I scooped the two bloodied, mangled halves into a jar with my own hands. My familiar and I shared an empathic connection. Even now, I could feel the agonizing pain of a blade severing my lower back, the raw, tearing sensation of my skin being flayed alive. Lady Blackwood clutched my arm, her frail hand trembling, as she cursed Lydia, calling her an abomination. “I warned her a thousand times! That viper is your very lifeblood! How could she dare to rip out its heart with her own hands!” My legs, numb and unresponsive, dragged forward. Lydia knew better than anyone the bond I shared with my familiar. Yet she had cleaved the viper in two before my very eyes. She had watched me collapse in agony, then seized the back of my neck, snarling, “You play-act so well! You used these theatrics to trick Grandmother into believing your absurd tales before. Did you truly think I’d believe you’re some ancient spirit?!” With that, she ordered the familiar’s heart to be removed. She watched me fall to my knees, writhing in soul-shattering pain, then tossed the two halves of the viper onto the floor before me like garbage. “If you insist your eons of power were stored within this viper, then it must be incredibly potent. If it actually cures Marcus’s cough, I’ll get you another one to continue your little charade for Grandmother.” Lost in thought, the butler rushed into the healer’s office. He placed a cardboard box into my hands, saying Lydia had ordered it delivered to me immediately. I fought through the intense pain racking my body and opened the box. Suddenly, a large hawk flew out. The hawk seemed to sense the lingering essence of my familiar in the jar. It swooped down, its predatory gaze fixed on the container. I instinctively shielded the jar with my back, trying to conjure a protective charm, but my hands remained unresponsive, lifeless. I had forgotten. My power was utterly drained. All I could do was helplessly hunch my back, trying to ward off its attack. It is widely known that even the most venomous serpent quails before the hunter of the skies. The ancient, primal fear of my kind seized me, a terror etched deep into my very bones. The hawk’s talons tore into my back, leaving several bleeding gashes, before Lady Blackwood’s furious shouts brought the guards, who finally bludgeoned it to death. I lay on the ground, motionless, only vaguely aware of a soft thud. I heard the respected Lady Blackwood fall to her knees before me. “Dorian,” she wept, her voice trembling, “I truly never imagined that wicked girl, Lydia, could do something so monstrous. You are House Blackwood’s Guardian Spirit. I will find another place, a sacred sanctuary, where you can safely recuperate your power. I beg you, for the sake of my mother’s act of salvation, forgive Lydia this once, and continue to protect House Blackwood.” I didn’t know how to respond. A century ago, Lady Blackwood’s mother had found me in the wilderness, near death, almost carried off by a ravenous eagle. She had brought me back to her home, painstakingly bandaging my wounds. In gratitude, after achieving my ascension and becoming a Guardian Spirit, I sought her out and vowed to protect House Blackwood for generations. Later, to save Lydia, I had broken ancient tenets, forcibly manifesting a human form, yet could only preserve my vast arcane power within the familiar. But now… the viper’s physical form had been destroyed by Lydia’s own hands. My power was utterly drained, and I had completely lost the ability to protect House Blackwood. I looked at Lady Blackwood, still kneeling before me, and a resolute purpose hardened in my eyes. “I promised your mother to protect the Blackwood lineage for generations. But now, my power is gone. I have lost the ability to be a Guardian Spirit. Please, in consideration of the countless times I have averted calamity for House Blackwood, and for the sacrifice I made to save Lydia’s life, consider my debt to your mother fully repaid. Let me go.” Clutching the jar, I limped back to the estate. Before I even entered the grand hall, the sound of intimate whispers, of a man and a woman, drifted through the closed doors. “They say his familiar granted him… certain favors, didn’t it?” I heard Marcus’s crude voice, thick with triumph. “Made you unable to leave his bed, perhaps? But now its heart is gone, consumed. How about we see if my abilities have changed, shall we?” Lydia’s voice, husky with pleasure, replied, “He wasn’t a true familiar, Marcus. And besides, you know better than anyone… only you can satisfy me.” I flung the doors open. Lydia seemed to ignore me, continuing to passionately embrace Marcus, who sat casually on the sofa. It was Marcus, however, who watched in horror as my dark hair suddenly turned white. He recoiled from Lydia, clutching his chest, coughing uncontrollably. He choked on his words, gasping, his voice a frantic whisper as he pointed, “Monster! You’re a monster!” Each word seemed to seize his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. Lydia’s brow furrowed. She gently patted Marcus’s back, then suddenly lunged at me, raising her hand and slapping my face. “What new trick are you using to turn your hair white? Are you deliberately trying to make Marcus choke to death?” Her high heel ground mercilessly into my foot. From the sofa, Marcus gave me a smug, triumphant look, then deliberately coughed a few more times, clutching his chest. He suddenly raised his hand, pointing at the jar I held. “Lydia, Dorian probably didn’t mean it. But if his pet snake’s heart was so effective for a cough, then a viper stew must surely help too.” Both their gazes fell, as one, upon the jar. I clutched it tighter. “Lydia Blackwood,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper, “you know I shared a bond with the viper. Do you know that if it were made into a stew, I would also…” The unspoken words hung in the air: suffer the agony of being scalded alive. But she didn’t even have the patience to listen. She slapped the jar from my grasp. The butler, at her command, whisked the remnants of my familiar away to the kitchen to be made into a stew. Soon, a searing heat consumed me, a scorching inferno that made me dig my nails into my thighs, desperate to fight the agony. Even plunging myself into a tub of cold water offered no relief. Lydia suddenly stormed in, grabbing my stark white hair, demanding to know if I had deliberately dyed it white to run to Lady Blackwood and complain about her. “You always use these dark arts to deceive Grandmother! You even claimed you sacrificed your own power to save my life before! If Marcus hadn’t told me that he personally went abroad to buy medicine for me, sneaking it to me when you weren’t looking, my family would have just let you keep me locked in my room, letting me die without a single dose of medicine!” Lydia dragged me from the cold water, watching me curl into a ball, kneeling on the floor, trembling from the agonizing heat. She loomed over me, her gaze imperious. “You should know, House Blackwood has a Guardian Spirit that ensures the husband of every eldest Blackwood daughter lives a long life. If I hadn’t believed your words back then, mistakenly thinking it was you who saved me, I never would have married you! This destined long life should have been Marcus’s! You must give him your place!” I stubbornly met her gaze, then closed my eyes and let out a humorless laugh. He, who had personally destroyed House Blackwood’s very destiny, thought he would live a long life? “He wants to replace me as your husband, and live to a hundred? He’s dreaming!” A few hours later, the viper stew was served. I remained submerged in the cold water, biting down on a chopstick so hard that my jaw ached, my hands clenching the porcelain edge of the tub until fragments dug deep into my palms. The sensation of being torn and gnawed spread from my legs to the crown of my head. The last wisp of ethereal mist, my remaining essence, rose from my body. “Dorian, your dramatics are truly pathetic,” Lydia scoffed, her voice echoing into the bathroom. “You stole Marcus’s place, his rightful claim to a long and prosperous life. All I took was your wretched pet snake. Do you really need to act as if you’re dying? It only makes me sick!” With that, Lydia and Marcus continued to share the bowl of viper stew. I watched the ominous, swirling shadows coalesce above their heads, then slowly closed my eyes. The Blackwood lineage was always cursed, plagued by misfortune. Only I, by sacrificing my arcane power, had ever shielded them from calamity. Now that the last shred of my essence was gone, House Blackwood’s fortune would slowly begin to unravel. House Blackwood’s ancestors, simple fishermen, had built their fortune on a legacy of spilled blood and suffering. I, driven by gratitude, had painstakingly maintained a small sanctuary for their lineage. Over a decade ago, Lady Blackwood had knelt before the Ancestral Shrine, before the idol of the Guardian Spirit, begging me to reveal myself and save young Lydia, who was trapped in a deathly slumber. Lydia was destined for an early demise in childhood. It was I who, to repay her grandmother’s kindness, poured my very essence, my entire cultivated power, into her, drop by agonizing drop, prolonging her life. Year after year, my power had already been significantly depleted. And to save her, I had broken ancient tenets, forcibly manifesting a human form, enduring three days and three nights of divine lightning. I had almost perished. When Lydia awoke, she saw me sitting cross-legged by her bed, a viper coiled around my wrist. She didn’t seem afraid; instead, she gently stroked the viper’s head. “Dorian, thank you for saving me. I will beg Grandmother to agree to my marriage to you!” Lydia claimed she didn’t care about my true nature. She pleaded desperately with Lady Blackwood, enduring a brutal family lashing that left her unable to stand. Yet she stubbornly held her back straight, determined to become my wife. It was the first time in ten thousand years that I felt my heart pound so furiously it threatened to leap from my throat. After our marriage, Lydia learned how vital the viper was to me. She cherished it, cradling it in her hands, even personally preparing its food. But everything changed a few months later, with Marcus’s arrival. Lydia began to doubt that I had saved her with my power. She found a bottle of medicine for neurological disorders under her bed and smashed it before me. “I actually believed your monstrous tales! So it was all a cunning scheme for you to insinuate yourself into House Blackwood! I recovered because of Marcus’s medicine, didn’t I?!” She brutally ripped the viper from my wrist, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. I choked, uncontrollably spitting up blood. But all I could do was watch as she seized the viper by its life-force and held it out the window, threatening to drop it. “Without your viper, let’s see how you’ll continue to play your charades for Grandmother!” The viper was thrown from the window. Consequently, I suffered fractured legs and was confined to bed for six months.

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“Liam said I had a rare condition called Transient Global Amnesia, or TGA. Every Monday, I’d wake up as the 25-year-old Audrey Vance, my memory forever stuck in the past. On a flash drive, there were videos of Liam taking me on trips, getting me treatment, even our engagement. They looked full of happiness, yet not a single moment had left a trace in my mind. ‘Audrey’s still here, can’t you be a little more discreet?’ ‘What’s there to be afraid of? Tomorrow’s Monday; she’ll wake up and won’t remember a thing,’ Liam’s reply sent a chill through me, sinking my heart into an ice-cold abyss. ‘Doesn’t that make it even more exciting?’ Liam held my best friend, Sylvia, as they indulged in a brazen display of affection in front of me, utterly unconcerned. For two years, countless such scenes had unfolded. I ran desperately, tears blurring my vision, until I passed a tattoo parlor. Like clutching a last straw, I tremblingly had three words etched onto my arm. ‘Leave him.’ … ‘You’re awake?’ The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and my head felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer, the pain nearly making me faint. I looked helplessly at Liam, who stood by my side. ‘I know your mind is a mess right now. Just calm down and watch this USB drive.’ My memory was stuck on the day of the car accident. On the freeway, the car ahead slammed on its brakes. Liam instinctively swerved, not to save himself, but to protect me in the passenger seat. He crashed directly into the guardrail, barely surviving, while I had only a few scrapes, my head being the sole injury. The first thing Liam did when he woke up was propose to me, still in his hospital gown. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer, burying my face in his chest. When I looked up, I caught a fleeting glimpse of pain in his eyes, barely discernible. In that instant, a massive wave of unease, like a thorny vine, tightly gripped my heart. Why this peculiar illness? Was an unchanging lover truly what he wanted? Would he… grow tired of me? ‘Why did we switch rooms?’ A nurse led in a familiar face, my best friend, Sylvia. She had even filmed our proposal video. I thought Sylvia was rushing to see me first. But the moment she entered, she bypassed me, naturally draping an arm over Liam’s shoulder. Her bright red nails stood out starkly against Liam’s dark suit jacket. ‘Liam, there’s an urgent company matter you need to handle.’ ‘I can take care of Audrey.’ Liam subtly detached Sylvia’s hand, his expression apologetic. ‘Audrey, Sylvia will take you home later.’ When did their relationship get so close? She was always at odds with Liam. Every time Liam and I argued, she was the one who encouraged me to break up, saying Liam wasn’t good enough for me. Now, why was she working at his company? I frowned. Liam quickly kissed my forehead, instructing Sylvia to make sure I watched the entire video. ‘Got it. You go,’ Sylvia replied with a smile. These two, one my future husband, the other my longtime friend, yet I felt like a complete outsider. Inside the hospital room, only the sound of the video remained. I dared not miss a single detail, desperately trying to engrave every happy moment into my mind, to reclaim the connection with Liam. For a moment, I forgot I was still on an IV. Blood flowed backward, staining the IV line crimson. ‘Sylvia.’ ‘Could you ask the nurse to change my IV?’ I called her several times before she finally looked up, letting out an impatient ‘Tsk!’ ‘So much trouble!’ Until Sylvia glanced at her phone and said she had to leave, I still couldn’t understand why her attitude towards me had changed so drastically. I took a taxi alone to the ‘home’ Liam had mentioned. The room was utterly unfamiliar, decorated like a show house. It was hard to imagine I had lived here for two years. I took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains. The moment I lifted my arm, the freshly scabbed tattoo on my forearm caught my eye. It boldly read: ‘Leave him.’ The skin around it was still slightly red, clearly indicating it was a recent tattoo. When did I develop such a hobby? I dialed Liam’s number, puzzled, but there was no answer. I called his office, and the call was picked up quickly, but the person on the other end just cursed impatiently before hanging up immediately. ‘Are you ever going to stop? Every Monday, you come running to ask questions. I have a job too, can’t you just settle down?!’ ‘I…’ Unjustly subjected to a scolding, and still no answer from Liam’s personal phone, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The reflection in the mirror showed a face with dull skin and prominent eye bags, a stranger to the woman I remembered. It shouldn’t be like this… I dug out a long-forgotten makeup box from under the bed and started to primp. By nightfall, Liam still hadn’t returned. Tears streamed down my carefully applied makeup, and looking at my dejected reflection, I swept the cosmetics off the table, suddenly feeling ridiculous. What was I doing? Couldn’t I live without Liam? Bottles and jars scattered across the floor, revealing the bottom of the makeup box. And there, starkly revealed, were the words: ‘Leave him.’ My mind exploded. This was the second time today I’d seen that phrase. I pulled up my sleeve to compare the handwriting; it was identical, unmistakably my own. What did it mean? And who was ‘him’? A sound from the living room. I instinctively rushed out. It was Liam, indeed, but there was also an unexpected person: Sylvia. Unlike the daytime, she was wearing a form-fitting evening gown, looking radiant. ‘Oh, is someone crying?’ She glanced at me, tossing her expensive handbag onto the sofa, and headed straight for the master bedroom. ‘So tired, I’m going to take a shower.’ The amount of information was overwhelming. For a moment, I didn’t know how to react, instinctively turning to Liam for help. He hadn’t changed much from two years ago; in fact, he’d gained a certain mature charm. Yet, looking at his composed face, I found him terribly unfamiliar, unable to feel any closeness. He sighed, reaching out to me. The moment his hand almost touched my arm, for some reason, I instinctively recoiled, leaving his hand suspended in mid-air. ‘Sylvia moved in to take care of you.’ ‘Don’t overthink it.’ I might have lost my memory, but I hadn’t lost my mind. Did I really need her to move in just to care for me? Lying in bed, I couldn’t make sense of it. Sylvia knocked, her attitude completely changed from before, placing a glass of water beside me. ‘Audrey, it’s time for your medicine.’ She looked at me expectantly, as if she wouldn’t leave until I drank it. Liam sat on the sofa, glancing from Sylvia to me, finally nodding. ‘The doctor prescribed it. Take it.’ That night, I slept profoundly. When I woke again, the space beside me was cold; Liam had already left. Sylvia was at the doorway, checking her makeup in the mirror. More striking than her red lipstick were the love marks on her neck, barely concealed by her low neckline. If I remembered correctly, her neck had been pristine white last night. How could it be… in just one night? I narrowed my eyes, raising a hand to gesture. ‘Your neck…’ ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ She found a scarf and tied it on. ‘Liam’s hurrying me. I need to be quick.’ She offered a saccharine smile. ‘Don’t misunderstand. We’re going to see a client.’ Sylvia smiled at me, but even in the midday sun, I felt a chill run down my spine. That afternoon, Sylvia messaged me, saying she and Liam would be home for dinner. But it was well past midnight when they finally arrived, the door opening to the distinct smell of alcohol. Liam looked at the untouched dishes on the table, his brow slightly furrowed. ‘You didn’t eat?’ ‘Oh, my memory!’ Sylvia batted her eyelashes, simpering at Liam. ‘I forgot to tell Audrey we wouldn’t be back for dinner.’ ‘It’s fine. She’s just foolish.’ Not long after, Sylvia brought me water again, reminding me to take my medicine. Liam, as usual, tacitly approved of Sylvia’s actions. ‘Do I have to take it?’ I asked Liam. He sat in the shadows, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. I might be foolish, but I wouldn’t be fooled a second time. I knew something was off about how profoundly I’d slept last night. In front of both of them, I put the pill in my mouth. As soon as Sylvia left, satisfied, I quickly spat the tablet out from under my tongue. This time, I clearly noticed it. Sylvia’s fingertips subtly grazed the love marks on her neck, then she provocatively glanced at Liam. I closed my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs. A moment later, I heard Liam get up, his footsteps growing closer, then gradually receding, out of the room. I dragged my heavy feet after him, feeling like the whole world was a colossal lie. Yesterday, I still had a fairytale-like, devoted lover. Today, I’d been struck by a crushing blow, everything reduced to ashes. Liam pressed Sylvia harshly against the sofa, taking what he wanted without restraint, like a couple in a movie, unable to control their passionate embrace. I finally understood where Sylvia’s marks had come from. The moment Liam caught sight of me in his peripheral vision, the fervent flame in his eyes instantly extinguished. He reached out, casually smoothing Sylvia’s collar. My blood surged with anger. I lunged forward, slapping Liam across the face, trembling with rage. ‘Why?’ ‘What did I do to you to deserve such degradation?’ The tattoo on my arm, the message at the bottom of the makeup box, the marks on Sylvia’s neck… everything clicked into place. No filial son remains by a sickbed for long. How much less so for a man with no blood ties! ‘I told you to go to the bedroom, but you insisted on the living room.’ Sylvia lovingly stroked Liam’s cheek. ‘Now look what happened. It’s only Tuesday, and you’ve already lost control.’ I couldn’t believe my ears. It felt absurd, and I found it hard to believe how many times I had gone through such a scene in these two years. Liam strode towards me, his gaze unreadable. ‘Please, let me go…’ My body reacted first. I recoiled as if shocked by electricity, dodging Liam, but I couldn’t make it to the door. He yanked me back, pulling me into a tight embrace from behind. ‘Don’t go.’ I was practically shaking like a leaf. He gently stroked my back, his expression tender. In a daze, the Liam I once knew seemed to return. ‘I’ve been in so much pain all these years…’ He tightened his arms, as if afraid he would completely lose me the next second. ‘In these two years, I’ve taken you to Disney World 20 times, seen the Northern Lights 5 times…’ He chuckled self-deprecatingly. ‘Though you don’t remember any of it.’ ‘What you just saw wasn’t what it seemed. Please, give me one more chance, okay?’ Liam’s voice cracked, a rare moment of vulnerability, and my heart gave a violent, sympathetic pang. The deeper his apparent affection, the more repulsive it became. Sylvia appropriately interrupted. ‘Let me talk to Audrey.’ She called my name in her specially modulated tone, giving Liam a knowing look. He returned to his room, tacitly leaving us alone. Sylvia sighed, sitting beside me. She remained silent for a long time, then hesitantly pulled out a medical report with her name on it. After she left, my emotions remained unsettled for a long time. How could Sylvia have stomach cancer?

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Our senior year homeroom teacher, Ms. Dixon, was notoriously unfair. If a boy came to her with a request for a day off, no matter how outlandish the reason, she’d sign off on it. But for girls? She’d subtly undermine you, imply you were overly sensitive or playing weak. She’d suggest you were just looking for an excuse to goof off. One time, I had a searing pain in my stomach. Appendicitis, it turned out. I approached her, doubled over. She didn’t even lift her head. “Just a stomachache, isn’t it?” “What’s the big deal? Drink some hot water, you’ll be fine. Do you really need to take time off for that?” “Besides, who’s to say you’re not just faking it?” 1 Ms. Dixon finished speaking, her voice light and dismissive. She crumpled my permission slip into a ball and tossed it directly into the trash can. “Out. Don’t put on a show in here.” With that, she picked up her phone and resumed scrolling through short videos. Clutching my stomach, I tried to straighten my aching back. “Teacher, I’m genuinely unwell. My family has already contacted a hospital for me.” The words had barely left my lips when Ms. Dixon slammed her hand on the desk, standing abruptly. “Amy Hayes, are you informing me? Or are you asking for permission? What do you think ‘asking for leave’ means? I haven’t even agreed yet, and you’ve already made hospital arrangements? What the hell do you need permission for then?” I stared, completely bewildered by her outburst. Going to the hospital when you’re sick—wasn’t that normal? Ms. Dixon sneered, giving me a sidelong glance. “I’ve seen countless girls like you. Always looking for an excuse to miss school, whether it’s a real issue or not. And the reasons? Always ‘it’s my period’ or ‘my stomach hurts.’ Next time, come up with something a little more original, something with actual effort.” At this, a memory clicked. My deskmate, Sarah, had warned me: if a girl complained of a stomachache, Ms. Dixon would never approve the absence. Sarah herself had once tried to get out of physical education due to severe menstrual cramps. After a few sarcastic remarks, Ms. Dixon had called her into the office. Sarah thought it was to sign the permission slip. Instead, Ms. Dixon had verbally abused her for an entire hour. Finally, she’d said, in that passive-aggressive tone, “I detest girls using stomach pain as an excuse. Each of you puts on quite a convincing act. Oh, it’s your period, is it? Well, come on, strip down and show me if you’re truly on your period.” Sarah had been so humiliated, tears streamed down her face. Ms. Dixon, still harping, sneered, “What are you crying for? Got exposed, did you? Look at the boys in this class. Not a single one of them is as dramatic as you girls.” That day, Sarah didn’t get her leave and had to run a grueling half-mile, clutching her stomach. I later asked her, “Why didn’t you just do it? Pull out your pad and fling it in her face! Maybe even get some blood on her. Let her see if you were faking it then.” But I knew Sarah’s timid nature. She was far too shy for such a defiant act. Stripping down and pulling out a pad? She’d never be able to do something like that. I still didn’t understand why getting a day off was so difficult for girls in our class. Couldn’t she tell if someone was genuinely ill? I gasped, a fresh wave of pain washing over me, and pleaded again. “Teacher, I really am unwell. If you don’t believe me, I’ll have my dad call you.” “Don’t think dragging your parents into this will make me compromise. Let me tell you, I don’t fall for that trick. I’m the homeroom teacher, responsible for so many students. If you take a day off today, and she takes one tomorrow, then no one will study, everyone will fail their exams, and I’ll be the one getting criticized and punished. Get out! No one gets a day off before the exams, not on my watch!” I persisted, swallowing my pride. “Ms. D., don’t worry, I’ll study hard while I’m in the hospital. I absolutely won’t drag the class down on the exams.” “Don’t call me ‘Ms. D.’, don’t try to be chummy! I can’t stand it when you girls try to play mind games, thinking a little bit of flattery will get you a day off. Let me tell you, no chance.” Ms. Dixon had just finished her tirade when a loud shout came from the doorway. “Coach D., permission to miss class!” 2 We both turned simultaneously. It was Jake, the sports representative. He leaned against the office doorframe, a cheeky grin on his face. “Coach D., can I get a pass? My ankle hurts; I want to go home and rest for a couple of days.” I expected Ms. Dixon to explode, to launch into a furious lecture. Instead, she giggled, a playful scolding in her voice. “You impudent monkey, is two days enough?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “How about three, then?” Ms. Dixon signed the slip quickly, without a moment’s hesitation, and even reminded him to eat well and recover at home. Jake grabbed the slip and hurried out of the office. Ms. Dixon called out to him again. “Silly boy, don’t walk so fast with a sprained ankle. Wait for me, Teacher will give you a ride on her scooter.” “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of troubling Ms. Dixon!” “Pfft,” Ms. Dixon let out a hearty chuckle, her mouth stretching into a wide grin. I was utterly dumbfounded! Why was it so easy for Jake to get time off? Didn’t he have exams? Why wasn’t she complaining about him dragging the class down now? I couldn’t hold back. “Why does he get a pass, and I don’t?!” Perhaps my voice was too loud; several other teachers in the office looked up. Ms. Dixon spun around, her face dark with fury. “What are you yelling about?! Are people all the same? He sprained his ankle and can’t walk, that’s why he’s taking time off. And you? You’re shouting so loudly, does your stomach not hurt anymore? I just can’t stand you girls, always looking for trouble. I’m not a man, so don’t try to play weak in front of me.” Another wave of pain shot through my abdomen. I was so angry and in so much pain that I sank to the floor, weeping. Ms. Dixon looked at me with disgust. “Still acting, are we? Do you think a few squeezed-out tears will make me soft? Don’t forget, I was a student once too. All your little tricks? I perfected them years ago.” Seeing that I hadn’t gotten up for a while, another teacher from the office came over to intervene. “Ms. Dixon, I think the child is truly unwell. Perhaps you should let her go to the hospital.” Ms. Dixon didn’t respond. She pulled a box of pills from her drawer and tossed them at my feet. “Here. Stomach ache, right? Just take a few pain relievers. Now, hurry back to class. Given your grades, Teacher is only thinking of your own good.” I picked up the box. It was ibuprofen, and it was expired. Ms. Dixon continued her incessant nagging, complaining that girls were always so high-maintenance, taking a day off for everything from periods to sneezes, and were simply not as tough as boys. I finally understood. Whether or not she signed the permission slip wasn’t about whether you were genuinely sick. It was entirely up to Ms. Dixon’s mood. If you were a boy, a scraped finger was enough to get you sent home to rest. But if you were a girl, even if you broke your leg, you’d still have to stay at school, confined to a wheelchair. All, supposedly, “for your studies.” But everyone knew the truth: some boys just took days off to play video games. Yet Ms. Dixon believed them unconditionally. Deep down, she saw girls as dramatic, overly sensitive, and untrustworthy. To put it nicely, Ms. Dixon favored boys. To put it crudely, she was a male-worshipping, woman-hating hag. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. The surgery was happening regardless. Whether she signed the slip or not was entirely her problem. I struggled to my feet, pulled another permission slip from my pocket, and slapped it onto Ms. Dixon’s desk. “The slip’s here. Sign it or don’t. I don’t care.” Clutching my lower abdomen, I hurried out of the office. Behind me, Ms. Dixon’s furious curses echoed. “Insubordinate brat! How dare you slam something on my desk! What’s next, wiping your feet on me?! Little girls scheming to find excuses to get out of school, who knows which wild boy they’re trying to meet! I don’t believe it for a second. Without my signed slip, you won’t get past that school gate!” 3 At the school gate, I pleaded with Mr. Peterson, the old gatekeeper, to open the door for me. He looked at me, his face etched with worry. “Sweetheart, why are you so pale?” I gasped in pain, my words coming in ragged breaths. Before I could finish, Mr. Peterson began to curse under his breath. “That idiotic fool, what kind of simpleton has sh*t for brains? Sweetheart, call your family immediately. Get your folks to come pick you up.” The words had just left his mouth when the phone in the gatehouse rang. Mr. Peterson, hard of hearing, put it on speaker. Ms. Dixon’s voice blared through. “Old Man Peterson, I’ve got a defiant little girl from my class here who doesn’t have a signed slip. You absolutely cannot let her out of school. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you let her go and something happens, you’ll be in deep trouble.” Our school had a rule: art students could enter and exit with their special passes. All other students required a permission slip signed by their homeroom teacher to leave campus. There was a time when students would forge Ms. Dixon’s signature. On some evenings after study hall, ten or twenty students from each class would claim they had permission to leave. Someone reported it, and the school clamped down. Now, when a student needed to leave, the teacher had to immediately file a record at the gatehouse. Students could only leave with both the signed slip and a matching record. Both were indispensable. Mr. Peterson remained silent, rolling his eyes. Ms. Dixon continued to screech into the phone. “Old Man Peterson, I’m talking to you, did you hear me? If you dare let her out, I’ll go straight to the Principal. Then your job will be gone, and you’ll have nowhere to cry.” “What? What? What did you say? Speak up!” “Ugh, can’t hear, can’t hear…” Mr. Peterson hung up the phone and handed me a cup of hot water. “That woman’s crazy, isn’t she? We’re asking for a day off, not for her life. Look at her, acting like an absolute idiot. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll open the gate for you in a bit.” I called my dad several times, but no one answered. Just then, Ms. Dixon stormed over. She grabbed me roughly. “Still acting, are we? Where’s all that bravado from when you slammed the table? Come on, back to class with me.” Mr. Peterson stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Look at this girl, she’s so pale. What’s the harm in letting her go get checked out?” “You old gatekeeper, what do you know?! If she fakes illness for a day off today, then everyone else will tomorrow, and my class will turn into chaos! Are you the homeroom teacher or am I? Stand back, don’t interfere with me educating my student.” Mr. Peterson spat on the ground. “Pfft, I’m not the homeroom teacher, but I’m a human being.” Ms. Dixon put her hands on her hips, ready to launch into another tirade. Then her phone rang. It was Dad. 4 I quickly handed the phone to Ms. Dixon. “Teacher, let my dad talk to you.” Ms. Dixon refused to take it. I put it on speaker. Dad spoke respectfully. “Hello, Ms. Dixon. I’m Amy’s father. The situation with the child is quite urgent. We’ve already booked a hospital bed, so could you please approve her leave? She needs surgery, and it will likely require five days.” “Parent, you really have the nerve to ask! Five days! A whole five days! Can you even imagine how much knowledge she’ll miss in five days? Besides, I can’t approve that many days. You’ll have to find the grade-level head, or the Principal. We have to report it step-by-step, with approvals at every level.” My dad chuckled apologetically. “I’m truly sorry. Could you perhaps put in a good word for us? We’d like to take the leave first, and then we’ll follow up with the full process and all the signatures. Amy’s condition truly cannot be delayed.” Ms. Dixon’s face remained stern, unyielding. My dad continued to apologize. “I should have met with you in person, but Amy’s mother is also currently hospitalized, and I’m busy with her at the moment. Once Amy is discharged, I’d like to treat you to a meal, and we can chat face-to-face.” Ms. Dixon squinted, letting out a cold snort. “Oh, how convenient!” My dad didn’t pick up on her sarcasm, continuing. “Yes, yes, everything happened at once. Please let the child out; I’ll be there to pick her up shortly.” Ms. Dixon looked annoyed. She neither agreed nor disagreed. From the other end of the line, a doctor’s voice could be heard. My dad quickly gave a few instructions, telling me to wait by the school gate and not wander off, then hung up. Mr. Peterson pulled me aside. “Sweetheart, sit inside the gatehouse and wait. I’ll call you when your folks get here.” I was about to stand up when Ms. Dixon sneered. “Hmph, so many tricks, aren’t there? How much did you pay these actors?” I stared, baffled. Ms. Dixon continued to ramble on. “I don’t believe it for a second. You in the hospital, your mom in the hospital? Why don’t you just say your whole family is in the hospital?! You can just find anyone to pretend to be your parent and call me. Do you take me for a three-year-old?!” A person truly does laugh when utterly speechless. I asked her, “What exactly will it take for you to believe me?” “Go on, prove it. Prove your dad is your dad!” Oh, for God’s sake, this woman has a screw loose. What you’re asking, I can’t prove. But I can prove that you’re an absolute idiot. I trembled with rage. Spotting the large megaphone on the table, I snatched it up. Running, I shouted: “Help! I’m sick, I’m dying!” “But Ms. Dixon won’t approve my leave!” “Why do boys get days off, but girls don’t?!” “Why?! Why?!” “Don’t stop me! Nobody stop me! I’m going to the lake, I’m going to the rooftop! I don’t want to live!” I ran, and she chased. My voice echoed wildly. Before I even reached the Principal’s office, a searing cramp tore through my abdomen, and I blacked out.

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My father ordered me into a political marriage. Mother gestured to my handmaidens, Lyra and Elara. “Pick one to go in your stead.” As I raised my hand, shimmering text appeared: [“What a snake—sacrificing her maids!”] [“Relax, the Crown Prince will save Lyra.”] I hesitated, then pointed at Elara. More text: [“Worse choice. The General will storm your palace.”] [“Your fiancé hates you—he’d rather elope with the heroine.”] My face paled. The words kept coming: [“Valerak’s King secretly loves you.”] [“But sending a substitute will enrage him. War is coming.”] I lowered my hand. “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll go myself.” 1 The moment the words left my lips, a profound silence fell over the Queen’s Rosewood Wing. The expressions on everyone’s faces were a complex tapestry of shock and relief. From my seat of honor, I saw it all clearly. A flicker of undisguised joy crossed the faces of both Lyra and Elara. They were just as unwilling to go as I was. Only my mother, seated beside me, looked both furious and panicked by my declaration. “Aurelia, do you have any idea what kind of place Valerak is? It’s a bitter, barren wasteland where nothing grows! Have you considered the suffering you will endure there?!” Having been a diligent student of history and an avid reader of regional chronicles since childhood, I knew all too well the harsh reality of the northern kingdom. When I first learned of my father’s command, my heart had felt as heavy as lead. My mother had schemed tirelessly, offering me a sliver of hope, a chance to escape my fate. But now, seeing those strange, prophetic words floating in the air, I understood. If I sent a substitute, I would bring ruin upon our kingdom. It was a gamble I dared not take. As I searched for the right words to persuade my mother, she spoke again, her voice hardening with resolve. “You are my only daughter. I will not send you into the lion’s den! Since you cannot bear to part with them, then I shall choose for you!” Her finger stabbed through the air, pointing directly at Lyra. Lyra’s body went limp, and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “Your Majesty, I beg you, have mercy!” [The Queen is so cruel. She can’t bear to send her own daughter, so she forces someone else’s to go!] [Just like mother, like daughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and the female lead’s mother is truly rotten.] [Don’t you worry, baby girl. Our Crown Prince will be here in T-minus three seconds!] [Is anyone else noticing that the princess actually changed her mind and said she’d go herself?] [Upstairs, she was obviously just saying that. That woman is the very definition of a hypocrite!] I finished reading the last of the floating text with a deep frown. Just as the final word faded, the grand doors to the Rosewood Wing were thrown open with a violent shove. A man in the formal robes of the Crown Prince stood silhouetted against the harsh light. My eyes darted from him back to the spectral words. My brother, the Crown Prince… he had actually come. 2 The moment my brother, Prince Caelan, appeared, I noticed Lyra’s kneeling form straighten. It was as if her champion had arrived, and the tears in her eyes vanished as if by magic. I watched, silent and observant. The Queen raised an eyebrow and beckoned to him. “Caelan, you’ve come at the perfect time. Help me talk some sense into your sister. I don’t know what’s gotten into her about this marriage pact, she’s actually threatening to—” Before she could finish, Caelan cut her off, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Mother, I knew Aurelia wouldn’t agree to this marriage so easily. To think she’d stoop to sending a substitute!” His gaze, hot with disappointment, bore into me. “I always knew you were timid and fearful, but this is a matter of state! How could you dare to pull such a deceptive trick?! Lyra and Elara have been with you since childhood. How could you be so cruel as to send them away? You have disappointed me more than I can say!” His accusations came one after another, each more cutting than the last. He spoke as if I were some unforgivable monster, his eyes holding a coldness I had never seen before. In my memory, he had always been the gentlest of brothers. This was the first time he had ever truly been angry with me. My nose began to tingle. Was this really the person he thought I was? The text in the air scrolled once more. [Ooh, talk about a man losing his cool for his woman!] [Look at the princess’s wounded expression, as if she’s been wronged! She didn’t want to go in the first place, or she would have refused the Queen’s plan from the start.] [The Prince has been putting up with the princess for ages. A stupid, useless woman. If she weren’t the Queen’s biological daughter, he wouldn’t even bother with her.] My hand tightened on the silk handkerchief in my lap. My vision blurred with unshed tears. My memory, however, drifted back with sudden clarity to the year I turned six. Back then, my brother wasn’t like this at all. 3 When I was six, I contracted smallpox. The entire Princess’s Estate was quarantined. No one was allowed in, not even my mother, save for the royal physicians. She could only weep as she went to the Grand Sept to pray for my recovery. Lying in bed, feverish and delirious, I was alone. The maids who had once served me had all been sent away for fear of contagion. I called out with a raw, hoarse voice, but no one came. In a haze, I felt a warm hand touch mine. A cup was pressed to my lips, and I drank greedily, the cool water a balm to my parched throat before I fell back into a deep sleep. Those days were the hardest of my life. Not a single ray of sunlight penetrated the heavy curtains of my bedchamber. I could only lie there, my pillow soaked with tears, crying out for my father and mother. At night, when I was exhausted from weeping, I would drift in and out of sleep. In those moments, I thought I could hear someone humming a soft lullaby by my ear, the same one my mother used to sing to lull me to sleep. Eventually, my fever broke, and my mind cleared. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my third brother, Caelan, slumped over the side of my bed. Back then, he wasn’t the Crown Prince. He was just an un-favored son, born of the King’s drunken encounter with a palace maid. He was bone-thin, with sallow skin, but his eyes were startlingly bright. The servants in the Forgotten Wing, where he lived, all bullied him. When I awoke, he was holding a teacup, and our eyes met. I could see the panic in his. He stammered, “I… I was just…” I smiled at him. “Brother,” I rasped, “I’m thirsty.” I knew who he was. Once, while playing, I had crawled through a small opening in the wall of the Forgotten Wing. I saw an old governess beating a young boy. I was about to cry out, but Lyra grabbed my arm and whispered, “Princess, we shouldn’t get involved with the third prince. If we do, the Queen will find out we came to this part of the palace.” I hesitated. Lyra bit her lip. “You are a princess, you can be willful. But if the Queen finds out I brought you here, I will be the one who is punished.” I didn’t want Lyra to be punished. But I couldn’t bear to see my brother go hungry. So, I took the last pouch of saffron cakes I had with me and secretly left it in a corner for him. Shortly after, I fell ill. This was our first real meeting. “You’re… the fourth sister, aren’t you?” he asked. So, he recognized me too. Caelan approached slowly, holding the cup, and offered the water to me. His hands were dark and rough, the nails rimmed with dirt. “You’re sick,” he said. “You need to drink a lot of water.” But his voice was like a clear mountain spring, gentle and pure. Just like… the voice that had sung lullabies by my bedside that night. That June, my smallpox was finally cured, and my strength returned. The Queen, having no son of her own, and moved by Caelan’s devotion to me during my illness, begged the King to let her formally adopt him. From that day on, he was transformed from a bastard into a legitimate heir. No one in the palace dared to bully him again. Caelan and I grew up together. He gave in to my every whim, bringing me trinkets and toys from outside the palace walls. This was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such severity. The floating text said he only got close to me because of my status. Should I believe it? 4 Seeing me lost in thought, Caelan grew even more agitated. “What is this attitude? I’m speaking to you about a serious matter, and you’re just daydreaming! Honestly, even your handmaiden Lyra is a hundred times more clever than you!” My thoughts snapped back from the past. The text was scrolling again. [The Prince has a thing for clever women. Only our girl Lyra can keep up with him.] [If Lyra had the princess’s background, she’d be a world-renowned scholar by now. Unlike the princess, who’s the kingdom’s number one fool.] [Hey now, I don’t like the princess either, but she could recite poetry at three and compose odes at five. That’s not exactly a fool.] [Not a fool? She can’t even recognize the person who sat by her bed, fed her water, and sang her to sleep! If that’s not stupid, I don’t know what is!] My gaze froze. I shot up from my chair, startling my mother. She thought Caelan’s words had finally gotten to me. “Caelan, this was my idea! You will not take your anger out on Aurelia!” she declared, defending me. Caelan’s expression grew even darker, his disbelief plain. “Mother, you’ve been covering for Aurelia’s mistakes her entire life. But this is a political marriage, a matter of state! If you keep indulging her like this, you will be the one to ruin her!” Hearing that, even my gentle nature could not abide it. “Brother,” I said, my voice sharp, “you may be the Crown Prince, but Mother is still the Queen of this kingdom. How dare you speak to her with such disrespect!” My words caught him off guard. He retorted angrily, “Aurelia, look at yourself! Acting like such a savage! Even if you did go to Valerak, who’s to say they’d even want you?” The words had barely left his mouth when a splash of hot tea hit him square in the face. My mother slammed her cup down on the table, her heart clearly breaking. “Caelan! Do not forget how you got that crown on your head!” 5 The color drained from Caelan’s face, shifting from a furious red to a chalky white. He looked as if someone had struck him right where it hurt the most. His gaze towards me was now a storm of dark, complex emotions. I knew he remembered. Years ago, after my eldest brother died in a tragic accident, the Queen was lost in a fog of grief. My birth brought laughter back into the Rosewood Wing. And then, when I fell ill, it was because Caelan had cared for me that my mother pleaded with the King to adopt him. It was an honor none of the other princes had received. Three years ago, the King decided to test the knowledge of his children and summoned us all for a royal examination. We were given the same policy questions as the candidates for the year’s Scholars’ Trial. After the papers were collected, my father kept me behind. He first pulled out my paper. After reading it, he sighed with a mixture of pride and regret. “My Aurelia, if you were a man, I would name you my heir without a second thought.” At that moment, I found myself wishing I had been born a boy. Then, my father asked me to choose the best essay from among those written by my brothers. That day, I let my personal feelings guide me. After I made my choice, the King looked at me, his gaze deepening. I grew nervous, but in the end, he said nothing, only stroking my head with a soft sigh. Two days later, Caelan returned from the royal court, his face alight with triumph, and came straight to my estate. It was only then that I learned the King had praised his essay before the entire court and announced his intention to name him Crown Prince. In that moment, I was happy for him. Relieved, even. And also, deeply guilty. Because I had read all the essays. And the best one had not been his. Caelan seemed to remember this too. The arrogance drained from him, leaving him looking deflated. He swept his robes aside and knelt on one knee. “Mother, I was wrong,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I was simply too anxious.” He glanced at me, then at Lyra, who was still kneeling beside him. As if making a momentous decision, he reached out and took Lyra’s hand. “Mother, Lyra and I have pledged ourselves to one another. I beg you to grant us your blessing for our marriage!” 6 The Queen was both stunned and furious. I paid no attention to what was said after that. Caelan’s words had already confirmed the truth of the floating text. He and Lyra were indeed in love. All these years, he had traveled back and forth between his residence and mine almost daily. Was it truly out of affection for his little sister? Or was it simply because the woman he loved resided within my estate? I looked at Lyra. Her eyes were fixed on Caelan, her adoration for him spilling out, impossible to conceal. All this time, they had been exchanging glances right under my nose, and I had been completely oblivious. Then… was Caelan truly the one who had cared for me during my illness? I sank back into my chair, feeling utterly defeated. They were right. I really was a fool. The Queen did not immediately agree to the marriage, but seeing Caelan’s fierce determination to protect Lyra, she eventually relented on the original plan. “Fine,” she said, her tone firm. “If not Lyra, then Elara will go in Aurelia’s place!” Elara didn’t dare to object, but her eyes turned red with unshed tears. I frowned. “Mother, this marriage is my own affair…” But the Queen just pressed a hand to her temple. “Oh, the two of you, stop tormenting me!” 7 A lady-in-waiting escorted both Caelan and me from the Queen’s chambers. The Prince was in a surprisingly good mood and offered to see me back to my estate. I shook my head, refusing. Seeing my coldness, he tried to take my hand, but I pulled away. His face fell. “Are you truly this angry with me over a mere servant?” I looked my brother straight in the eye. “That is a question I should be asking you, Your Highness. Today, for a mere servant, you showed no respect for me, your sister, or for our mother, the Queen. One day, when you sit on the throne, will you have any place for us in your heart at all?” I said it partly to vent the bitterness coiling in my stomach, and partly to test him. His expression changed instantly. After a long moment, he smoothed his features back into their usual mask of gentle humility. He coaxed me in a low voice, “Little sister, don’t be angry. I’ve already finished the kite for you. When I have time tomorrow, I’ll take you flying, how about that?” He held out his hand, showing me the small, scattered cuts on his palm from shaping the bamboo frame. I suddenly remembered that just a few days ago, we had made plans to go kite-flying in the spring. He had actually made one for me. Before I could feel a stir of emotion, the text began to scroll again. [Kite-flying? That’s a trick for a child. And of course, the princess will fall for it.] [Those cuts are from making a kite for Lyra. The princess’s kite was just an afterthought, made by a servant from the leftover scraps.] [I’ll bet you a silver coin the princess goes soft on him again!] The words left me stunned. For a fleeting moment, my resolve had indeed wavered. But now, the anger I had just suppressed flared back to life, hotter than before. I took a step back, putting distance between us. “Your Highness,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “It was I who was foolish before. You should save that kite for someone else.” I turned and walked away, my steps quick. I couldn’t wait another moment. I had to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. But as I stepped out of the palace gates, I realized my predicament. I had come in my mother’s carriage today. My own people hadn’t arranged for transport. It looked like I would be waiting for some time under the blazing sun. I looked up, feeling a wave of dizziness. I hadn’t slept well these past two days, tormented by the marriage pact. Just as frustration began to set in, a deep voice sounded beside me. “Aurelia, what are you doing just standing here?” I turned. My eyes widened, and I instinctively stood a little straighter. “S-Second Brother!” 8 Inside the carriage, my second brother, Prince Lysander, and I sat facing each other. I felt even more tense than I had in the Queen’s chambers. Lysander sighed. “Little sister, you don’t have to be so nervous every time you see me. I’m not going to eat you.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the guilt and shame in my eyes. The essay that had been the true masterpiece all those years ago… it had been his. For years, though Lysander had the King’s ear, he was never truly favored. I always felt I had wronged him, and over time, that guilt had become a heavy weight on my conscience. That, combined with his naturally aloof demeanor, had made me a little afraid of him since we were children. The carriage was quiet. I chanced a peek at him from under my lashes. Suddenly, the text in the air flickered to life again. [She refused the Crown Prince’s carriage but got into the second prince’s. The princess is such a hypocrite.] [What’s up with the princess today? She’s usually terrified of Lysander. The kind of terrified where she’d run and hide.] [Could it be? Has she finally figured out that the one who secretly nursed her back to health wasn’t the Crown Prince, but Prince Lysander?] My breath caught in my throat. My face went pale, and a cold sweat beaded on my forehead. A large, steady hand reached across and gently wiped the moisture from my brow. “Are you feeling warm?” His voice was cool and deep, and it overlapped in my memory with the voice from my dreams, the one that had sung lullabies. I remembered now. For years after I recovered, I had begged Caelan to sing for me again. He always stammered and made excuses, saying it was childish and that singing such things now would damage his image as a prince. I grabbed Lysander’s hand, desperate for confirmation. “Second Brother, could you… could you sing a lullaby for me?” Lysander looked startled. But without much hesitation, he cleared his throat. “Don’t blame me if it’s not very good.” Inside the carriage, a gentle melody began to fill the space, clear and soothing. “A little boat on a silver stream, to steal a lotus for a dream. Not knowing how to hide its wake…” I whispered the words along with him. It was him. All those years ago, in my quarantined estate, the one who risked his own safety to bring me medicine and sing me to sleep… it was Lysander. All these years. How could I have been so wrong? How? My grip on his sleeve tightened. “When I had the smallpox… you came to my estate, didn’t you?” 9 I was desperate for him to confirm it. But the truth came to me first, scrolling through the air in silent, shimmering words. [Whoa, the princess actually guessed it was Lysander who nursed her. Looks like she has a brain after all.] [Back then, Lysander was so worried about her that he snuck into her estate. He caught the fever himself and was sick for days. That’s how the third prince got to take all the credit.] [After that, every time Lysander tried to talk to the princess, she would either avoid him or get pulled away by the Crown Prince. After a while, he just gave up.] Reading this, I was overwhelmed with a profound sense of shame. But Lysander just gently stroked my hair. His face, usually so stern and serious, softened. “Little sister,” he said, his voice gentle. “You finally remember.” The carriage continued its journey to my estate, my emotions shifting with every turn of the wheels. Lysander brought up the political marriage and asked what I planned to do. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “The stability of our borders should not be bought with the sacrifice of a princess. Tomorrow, I will speak to Father. I will volunteer to lead the army myself and meet this Valerian King on the battlefield!” I was stunned. My own father, who had always doted on me, was now sending me away for the good of the kingdom. My mother was insistent on her substitution scheme. Even Caelan, my supposed protector, had sided with an outsider. As for my fiancé, I hadn’t heard a single word from him. None of them had asked me what I wanted. It was just like when I was six years old, sick and alone in that vast estate. I could only wait for my fate to be decided by others. This time, I would not let that happen. I lifted my head, my gaze resolute. “Brother, whether I go or not, this time, I want to decide for myself.”

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My boyfriend, William Hartwell, was suddenly involved in a car accident and rushed to the hospital. My classmates were busy donating money, but I acted as if nothing had happened. William’s sister found her way to campus, her eyes red-rimmed. “Sister Beth,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “our family isn’t well-off. Could you please release the money my brother saved with you over the years to help with the emergency?” I kept my expression neutral. “The money he saved? It’s long gone.” The girl’s tears flowed. “My brother’s monthly living expenses were $1500. He transferred $1200 to you every month, saving just $300 for himself. And that doesn’t even count the money from his part-time jobs. He borrowed money from me several times, begging me to keep it from our parents…” “You’re his girlfriend, can’t you help him when he’s in dire need?” Just then, William’s roommate stepped forward, corroborating the girl’s story. Yet, I maintained my stance: there was no money. Once William regained consciousness, he demanded a breakup, and everyone supported him. Facing their collective condemnation, I pulled out the transaction records from our two years together. 1 The girl’s T-shirt had frayed edges, clearly marking her as someone from a modest background. She swallowed hard, looking at me, and then spoke amidst the whispers of the gathered students. “Beth,” she began, her voice barely audible, “could you please release the money my brother kept with you? It’s needed urgently.” “Mom has borrowed everything she possibly could, but we’re still short…” “I know my brother has been putting money aside with you since the beginning of college.” I frowned, unmoved by her pitiable appearance. “The money he saved is already spent.” My face remained impassive, but the girl’s eyes immediately welled up. “Spent? How is that possible?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “My brother started dating you in his freshman year. That’s almost four years now. His $1500 monthly allowance? He transferred $1200 to you, leaving him with only $300 for meals.” “Not to mention his part-time jobs. All that money went into your shared ‘little piggy bank.’ That must be tens of thousands by now! How could it possibly be all gone?!” “There were times he was so broke he couldn’t afford to eat, and he had to borrow from me. He even made me promise not to tell our parents, which is how I know.” “Please, I know this is inappropriate and I haven’t even gotten my brother’s permission, but as his girlfriend, can’t you show a little compassion?” She hunched slightly, tugging at the hem of my shirt, tears pooling in her eyes. A heavy silence fell over the room. “Wait… I thought William was on a scholarship? I didn’t realize he had that much spending money!” “Yeah, he always seemed so frugal… I actually thought Beth was a good person, not like those other materialistic girls… So William’s money was all with Beth?” “Oh my gosh, I always assumed Beth came from a wealthy family! So she was just spending William’s hard-earned savings?” Gasps and incredulous murmurs rippled through the crowd. I shot a sharp look at them. “It’s just one person’s word against mine. What right do you have to speculate about me?” I turned back to the girl. “I told you, your brother has no money saved with me. Stop bothering me with this nonsense. Everyone has their own fate.” My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound of applause broke the stillness. Liam Davis, William’s roommate, clapped slowly, a look of pure mockery on his face. “Well said, ‘everyone has their own fate.’” “Others might not know, but we, his roommates, certainly do.” “I saw William transfer his money the moment he got his allowance every month. It was going to you, wasn’t it?” “Look at your clothes, your shoes – all designer labels. And William? To save money, he wears $10 fast-fashion shirts and shoes that are falling apart because he refuses to buy new ones!” “Now that he’s in trouble and needs money, you’re trying to wash your hands of him? Do you take us all for fools?” Liam’s words hit everyone like a physical blow, leaving them stunned. Unlike the tearful girl, Liam was our class representative. He was known for his diligence, responsibility, and gentle demeanor. No one had ever seen him this angry. His eyes were wide with fury. “Do you even know William got into that accident while rushing to a part-time job to buy you a birthday gift?” The classmates who had been wavering now firmly believed the accusations. “Damn, I never thought Beth could be this kind of person.” “How could she? Shouldn’t couples split expenses? She’s just too greedy!” Facing the chorus of accusations, I merely scoffed and walked out of the chaotic classroom. Little did I know, my phone would soon be flooded with messages. 2 Amidst the barrage of hateful messages, the first coherent one was from a close friend at the university. “Beth, you need to see this… check the gossip wall. What exactly is going on?” This friend usually paid no mind to campus drama, but her urging me to check the gossip wall indicated the severity of the situation. I opened my social media feed and quickly found the post that had gone viral. “We are Beth’s roommates. Acting on behalf of concerned parties, we are sharing these photos (attached).” “We find it incredibly difficult to believe that one of our own roommates could be so heartless, selfish, and greedy.” The nine photos displayed a collection of designer bags and exquisite gifts, each seemingly worth a fortune. They specifically highlighted a teddy bear charm: “We looked this up. It’s barely the size of a thumb and costs $800. Beth owns five of them.” “From what we understand, Beth’s family isn’t wealthy.” “So where the money for these luxury items comes from is obvious. We only learned the details today. William loved you and wanted to save together, and this is how you treated your shared assets?” “Especially now, when he’s in danger, and you remain indifferent. By exposing this, we want to make it clear we no longer want to be your roommates.” The post sparked a massive discussion. Someone explained the backstory, igniting further outrage among the students. “Damn, this girl is so selfish!” “Seriously, couples should never mix finances.” “God, how could he bear it? That guy is so thin, and she spends money so lavishly, like a parasite…” “This is terrifying. I’m afraid to date now, worried I’ll just be an ATM machine.” “It’s so easy for women to make money. If I were a woman dating ten guys, how rich would I be?” “She has money for $800 charms and $5000 bags, but not enough to treat her boyfriend when he’s hurt? Drowned in vanity.” “I heard her boyfriend got hurt because of her.” Compared to the private messages, the comment section seemed almost tame, filled mostly with sharp, critical remarks. The floodgates truly opened with the friend requests. The messages that couldn’t be explicitly stated, the ones that wouldn’t pass moderation, were replaced with homophones, synonyms, and thinly veiled insults, hurled at me like venom. People were quick to judge, fueled by hearsay rather than facts. Some guys were particularly vicious, completely embodying William’s role and rallying in righteous indignation, despite having no personal experience with the situation. When I returned to my dorm, I found my clothes and bags dumped on the floor, covered in dust. Some of my sheer blouses had new tears, and my handbag bore noticeable scratches. The three occupants of the room were engrossed in their phones and makeup, acting as if I didn’t exist. My expression hardened. “You’ve damaged my property. I can call the police.” Sarah, the one applying makeup, didn’t even glance away from her mirror. “Go ahead, call the cops. While you’re at it, maybe they can figure out where all your stuff actually comes from, whose money you spent. Let’s see who owes whom.” Her tone dripped with contempt, showing not a shred of guilt. Another roommate chimed in, “Heh. So that’s why you were always flaunting those new purchases. Turns out you were living off someone else’s hard-earned cash. No wonder you treat it so carelessly.” She drawled, kicking her legs up nonchalantly. The third roommate simply ignored me altogether. Seeing their brazen indifference, I stopped talking and walked straight to their closets. 3 I grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting their clothes. One by one. By the time the room descended into a chaotic mess of shredded fabric, they finally noticed my actions. “What the hell?! Are you crazy? What are you doing?” “Why are you touching my stuff?! That dress was saved up for a month! You pay for this!!!” “Holy crap, that’s my idol’s brand! I paid a fortune for that! You bitch!!” They lunged at me, claws out. I turned and fled the dorm, locking the door behind me. Unable to return to the dorm, I checked into a hotel near campus. Predictably, a call from my academic advisor summoned me to their office not long after. Upon arrival, I saw the three girls huddled in a corner, their faces filled with accusatory glares the moment they spotted me. The advisor tapped lightly on the desk, taking a sip of tea. Their eyes, magnified behind narrow glasses, scanned me with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. “Beth Hayes, is it? I know who you are.” “The one from Computer Science who loves dressing up. Hard to forget.” “But you need to understand, students come to university to learn, not to compare or to indulge in vanity.” “Regarding the damage to your roommates’ property, they have each itemized their losses.” “If you refuse to compensate them, then I can’t help but issue a major disciplinary mark on your record.” “This will significantly impact your eligibility for graduate studies and honors programs.” “As for the recent scandal making waves, I’ve heard about it. We can’t jump to conclusions, but I must remind you: you cannot act recklessly just because someone likes you.” “Beauty isn’t everything; kindness and consideration for others are what make a girl truly admirable. For that young man to treat you so well, and for you to act this way… it’s truly disheartening.” “It’s no wonder people increasingly criticize today’s women. People like you deserve it.” The words echoed in the empty office, drilling into my ears. I pursed my lips. “Do you believe everything you hear?” “As an advisor, you should at least strive for fairness. If this is just a one-sided accusation, then you can discipline me however you see fit. Why did you even call me here?” The advisor clearly didn’t appreciate my defiance. The teacup slammed onto the desk with a heavy thud. “Aren’t you quite wealthy? I’m now telling you to compensate for the damages within a specified timeframe, and to return William’s money to him. Otherwise, I’ll have to contact your parents to settle the debt.” “We have your parents’ phone numbers on file. If you’re not going to be sensible, we’ll have to involve someone who is.” Though seated, their ingrained air of authority projected a condescending threat. My expression remained placid. “Go ahead and contact them if you wish.” The advisor stared at me, their voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “Let me reiterate: a disciplinary mark will absolutely affect your graduate school prospects. Our university does not admit individuals with poor character like yours.” A knot tightened in my chest. They wouldn’t investigate, they wouldn’t seek the truth, they simply judged based on hearsay. I hadn’t expected this from a faculty member. I lowered my gaze. “Oh. Then let it affect it.” I turned and walked towards the door. If my efforts were to be erased because of this, then so be it. I didn’t want that opportunity anyway. 4 The university organized a donation drive for William. Afterward, we were all called to visit him. Only twenty students from our class were required to attend, but for some reason, I was included. Upon arrival, I understood. It wasn’t just students and faculty from our school; a popular online blogger was also present. They clearly wanted me there to manufacture public opinion. William had stabilized after treatment and was out of critical danger. He lay in bed, his gaze finding mine through the crowd. He had always been thin, practically skin and bones. His post-surgery, pale face made him look especially frail. Classmates approached him one by one, offering words of concern. William’s sister stood in a corner, her eyes burning with animosity and resentment as she looked at me. “Who invited you? I don’t want to see you.” She pointed at me, tears threatening to spill. The blogger, sensing fresh material, immediately swung the camera towards me. The classmates parted like the Red Sea, leaving a wide, empty space around me. William sighed, pulling his sister’s sleeve. “We need to break up.” He looked at me, his eyes utterly devoid of light. “William!” His sister stomped her foot in distress. “Even if you’re breaking up, shouldn’t she at least return your money? All the money you worked hard for and saved, why should she just spend it?” “Seeing her makes me sick! It’s your money, why should it be wasted on someone so heartless?” William looked conflicted, his gaze filled with disappointment. “I never expected you to be this kind of person, but we did love each other once.” “I don’t want to dwell on it. Just calculate the money, like my sister said. I don’t want it all, just half.” “I’ll give you a month to return it. Then we go our separate ways.” The classmates erupted in indignation. “Why only half? If she has to pay, she should pay it all! Do you still have feelings for someone like that?” “She just takes advantage of your kind heart, how you always doted on her. And this is how she repays you!” “May that gold-digger die a horrible death!” The blogger, meanwhile, was urging viewers in their livestream not to use foul language. Sarah, my roommate, gave me a shove. Off balance, I stumbled forward. “Calculate it properly!!” “Yeah! Calculate it!” The hateful voices grew louder. Seeing William’s performative struggle, I fought back the urge to gag. “Fine. Let’s calculate it.”

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The hair salon was having a huge year-end sale, so on a whim, I bought a membership card. But when I went in for a wash, the shampoo girl not only deliberately ruined my makeup but also insulted me, saying I was dark and ugly without it. Trembling with anger, I demanded to cancel my card. They just sneered, telling me that for the small amount I was paying, I couldn’t expect to be treated like a queen, especially since I wasn’t even getting a color or perm. When I tried to call the police, they snatched my phone. Then they started a vicious rumor, saying my money wasn’t clean and that’s why I was so stingy. They looked so smug, thinking I would just give in. But I just smiled and waved to the security guard at the door. “Call my dad. Tell him to buy this entire street.” “And then, tell these people to get the hell out.” 1 As soon as I walked into the salon, a female employee greeted me with a smile. “Hello, are you here for a color or a perm?” I walked straight to the washing stations. “Just a wash, thanks.” “And could you please be a little careful? I have makeup on today.” The smile on her face froze for a second. She turned on the tap, tested the water temperature with her hand, and then asked tentatively, “It’s almost the new year. Don’t you want a new look?” “And since you came in with makeup on, our senior stylist could design a unique hairstyle just for you!” I was scrolling through my phone, not paying much attention. “I have plans later. I just need a wash.” The employee’s voice faltered. After a long pause, she said, with a distinct chill in her tone, “Oh.” The next second, a stream of scalding water hit my face. I shot up from the chair with a yelp. I stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous. “What are you doing?!” But the shampoo girl just blinked, her expression one of pure innocence. “What’s wrong, ma’am?” “Is there a problem with the water?” She tested it with her hand again, then looked at me with a mocking sneer. “Oh, I thought pigs weren’t afraid of hot water.” I was completely baffled. Her malice was so blatant that I started to wonder if I had misunderstood. “Did… did you just insult me?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I… I haven’t done anything to you, have I? Is it a crime to be a customer in your salon?” “Don’t you know I just bought a membership card?! I put ten thousand dollars on it!” “You certainly didn’t have this attitude the day I signed up!” She glanced down at her freshly manicured nails, unconcerned. “Oh, you did. So what?” “We cater to high-end clients who come in for color and perms. As for delicate little princesses like you, who have long nails and need to use a membership discount for a simple wash, well, we just don’t have the right kind of service for you.” I was furious. “So what you’re saying is, if I don’t get a color or perm, you can’t even give me a proper hair wash?” She rolled her eyes. “Believe whatever you want.” “And another thing, I noticed it when you came in. You’re all dressed up, but your face is caked in so much foundation! It’s terrifying! If you have enough money for that much makeup, why not take care of your hair? Hah!” Her attitude made me shake with rage. It was winter, and I was bundled up in layers. Now, my hair was soaked, my makeup was ruined, and water was dripping down my neck, making my inner shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin. I was supposed to meet my crush this afternoon! Now, all my plans were ruined. I pulled the membership card from my bag and slammed it on the counter. “The owner! Where’s the owner?!” “I want to cancel my card!” 2 The owner came over when he heard the commotion. But after listening to the whole story, he told me, with a perfectly straight face, “That’s our salon’s policy.” “How about this? If you’d like to enjoy a comfortable hair wash, I can deduct the cost of a color and perm from your card. Our most basic color package is $788. How does that sound?” I was so shocked I was speechless. “Are you even listening to yourself?!” “That’s… that’s basically forcing me to buy something I don’t want!” But the owner just frowned. “How is it forced? If you want a color, we’ll give you a great one. If you don’t, we’ve still given you a good wash. It’s your choice, isn’t it?” “I understand. You saw our year-end promotion, a 30% discount with a membership card, and you thought you could take advantage of us. But if you only get a wash and still get a 30% discount, that’s just a few dollars. How is that any different from robbing us?” “We’re a small business. Please don’t think you can come in here and act like you’re God just because you’re spending a little money.” “We don’t serve gods here!” All the while, the shampoo girl stood there, her back straight, a smug look on her face. I had never encountered such a bizarre salon or such bizarre people. I was so angry I wanted to laugh. “Fine, fine, you don’t serve gods. So can a god get a refund?” The owner’s brow furrowed. “No, you can’t.” I was even more exasperated. “What do you mean, no?!” “Haven’t you ever heard of consumer protection laws?!” He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. “Miss, I believe we have been trying to communicate with you in a civil manner!” “But why do you insist on being so unreasonable and embarrassing yourself?!” “Don’t talk to me about protection laws! All I know is that when you signed up for our membership card, you signed an agreement! If you want to cancel now, you’re in breach of contract, and the remaining balance on your card is the penalty! We will not refund it!” “Please don’t make things difficult for us small business owners!” I stared at him, my finger pointed at myself, my face a mask of disbelief. “Me?! I’m making things difficult for you?!” “And… and you’re a small business?!” “So the $300 color, $500 perm, and thousand-dollar treatments on your price list… those are all part of a small business, are they?” “Fine! You don’t recognize consumer protection laws? I’ll call the police! Let’s see if they recognize them!” Furious, I pulled out my phone. I’d just dialed the three numbers when my phone was snatched from my hand. It was the shampoo girl. She was holding my unlocked phone, gleefully scrolling through it. She looked me up and down and tsked. “So this is how you make your money.” “No wonder you’re so stingy with it.” 3 My face darkened. “What are you talking about?” I demanded. But she just looked at me with contempt, brazenly holding up my phone for me to see. On the screen was my chat with my dad. She scrolled through the chat history, her voice dripping with disdain. “Tsk, tsk, so many money transfers…” “This guy’s profile picture… he looks at least forty or fifty, right? You have some interesting tastes.” “Oh, but I guess for someone in your line of work, you can’t be too picky.” A vein throbbed in my forehead. I held out my hand. “Give it back,” I said, my voice cold. “Or else…” But she completely ignored my threat. Not only did she not give it back, she passed my phone around to the other customers. They covered their mouths, their eyes full of a salacious amusement, laughing and whispering amongst themselves. “Did you see that?” “I didn’t at first!” “But look at her face now! Why do you think she wears so much makeup?! To seduce old men, of course!” “Hah!” “I thought it was strange from the beginning! We don’t usually get low-end customers who just want a wash. So a little water, and the mask comes off!” “The makeup on our regular, high-paying customers is waterproof, you know! Not like her…” The people around me started to join in, smirking and making fun of me. “Seriously, little girl, if you can’t even afford a color and perm, why pretend to be rich and buy a membership card?” “Yeah! We all know April. She’s great at her job. She’s so thorough, and she even gives a massage. You’re only paying a few bucks, you can’t expect the same service as us!” “Exactly! If you’re that desperate, why not ask your sugar daddy for more money? This is so embarrassing!” “Hey, hey, it’s almost the new year. Her sugar daddy is probably with his own family. It’s normal for a girl to be a little short on cash during the off-season, hahaha!” I watched as the group, led by the shampoo girl, April, huddled together, pointing and commenting on the contents of my phone. One moment they were saying my emojis were childish, the next that my tone was disgusting. I tried to get my phone back, but the male owner blocked my way, his eyes raking over me in a lewd manner. He stroked his chin and chuckled. “So, little girl, this is your line of work?” “You should have said so earlier! If you had, you wouldn’t have needed April. I would have washed your hair myself!” “A nice, long wash!” I was so disgusted my skin crawled. I was about to argue with him when a sudden flash of light blinded me. When the spots cleared from my eyes, I saw April holding my phone. She had just taken a picture of me, my hair dripping wet, my face a mess of smeared makeup. And she was sending it to my C!R!U!S!H! “Aaaah—!” A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my throat. 4 April and her gossiping cronies still hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation. They raised their eyebrows, a mocking smile on their faces. “See, see! She’s panicking! I told you this pretty boy was her latest target!” “He looks like a sweet, innocent college kid. And she, now that she can’t make money over the holidays, is trying to prey on an honest man! Hah, not on my watch!” “Exactly! Look at all the fake pictures she posts online. It’s disgusting! In reality, she’s just a gold-digging tramp! We’re doing him a favor! We’re saving a handsome man from this kind of woman!” I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I tried to grab my phone, but the male owner pinned me down. He held me by the neck and, like a pervert, stroked my wet hair, his voice a lewd purr. “Ma’am, isn’t it uncomfortable with your hair all wet?” “Let me blow-dry it for you. And I’ll give you a treatment, too. With protein and essence… a very, very long treatment. It’s okay if you don’t have money. You can pay in other ways.” I shoved at him, but I couldn’t move him. “You’re just a salon owner! Who do you think you are?!” I screamed. “Even if you don’t give me back my phone, I’ll call the police the second I walk out of here!” But the owner just sniffed my hair like a creep and sneered, “The customers here are all my regulars. What are you?” “Call the police? You have any proof?!” With that, he shoved me back into the chair, his knee pressing between my legs. He squinted at me, his body leaning closer and closer. The faces of the people around me were all alight with the thrill of the spectacle. I struggled, but I was trapped. Just then, through the crowd, I saw him. My bodyguard, who was supposed to pick me up after my hair was done. My eyes lit up. I waved and shouted, “Bill! I’m over here!” He immediately pushed through the crowd and rushed in. The salon owner’s face was a mask of shock. Before he could react, my bodyguard had kicked him off of me and surrounded me protectively. They retrieved my phone and handed it back to me. I took it, but instead of calling the police, I called my dad. The call connected. Looking at the disgusting faces in front of me, I fought back a wave of nausea and said, my voice cold, “Dad, I want to buy a street.”

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Everyone said I was a fool. As a child, I drank a sip of poisoned soup meant for my mother and my mind was addled ever since. My fiancé, deeming me a simpleton, refused to marry me, yet he secretly tumbled in the sheets with my sister, leaving her with a child. Later, when my sister was chosen to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed, she pushed me in front of our father, her voice dripping with scorn. “The Prince is a dead man walking anyway. Just let Lyra marry him.” But I wasn’t a fool. “If sister doesn’t want him, Lyra doesn’t want him either.” My father coaxed and cajoled. “Lyra, my dear, the Royal Palace has delicacies beyond your wildest dreams.” My eyes lit up. “I’ll marry him!” They all sneered, convinced I was truly an idiot. But as I sat in the royal carriage on my way to the palace, my mind clear and my gaze steady, they would all come to regret it. Deeply. 1 “Don’t, Gareth. Not on the boat… the fool is watching.” My sister, Lady Annelise, feigned resistance, shooting me a disdainful glare even as her arms wrapped languidly around Gareth’s neck. Gareth scoffed. “What does that simpleton know?” He cast a cold, contemptuous look my way. “Lyra has been a fool for years. If she had a single thought in her head, she wouldn’t be sitting here watching her own fiancé with her sister.” “She’s just a mindless idiot.” Feeling Annelise’s fingers tracing patterns on his chest, he suddenly pulled her close, pinning her against the hull of the boat. They were soon lost in a tangle of limbs and whispers. I sat in the corner, contentedly eating my biscuits and trailing my fingers in the water. Hearing the commotion from inside the small cabin, I curiously peeked in. It was too dark to see anything. When I emerged, I was holding a piece of her silken lingerie. After they had finished, my sister couldn’t find her undergarment anywhere. She turned and saw me wearing it on my head, running around and giggling. Shame and fury contorted her face. The moment we returned to the manor, she had me locked in the woodshed. “You useless fool! Why didn’t you die with that wretched mother of yours? You’re an eyesore!” “You walked right into this yourself. Don’t blame me for teaching you a lesson…” She had the servants tie me up and beat me. I wailed and cried, but no one paid me any mind. Even my father, passing by, heard my cries and only shook his head with a sigh, quickening his pace. “Sister, don’t hit me! Whatever you want Lyra to do, I’ll do it…” Annelise’s expression shifted. “Stop.” The stout serving women immediately ceased. In the House of Verne, the word of the eldest daughter was more powerful than a royal decree. This was because her mother, the late Countess, had saved the King’s life ten years prior and was still honored in the royal crypt. After my own mother’s death, Annelise had wanted me dead too, but seeing my vacant-minded state, she kept me around as a plaything. Besides, she had her eyes on my fiancé, Gareth. She used the pretense of taking me boating on the lake to carry on her sordid affair with him. Now, she smiled languidly and yanked my hair. “You want to live, do you?” Annelise extended her foot. “Then lick my shoe clean. If I find a single speck of dirt, you can forget about keeping that pathetic life of yours.” I recoiled in disgust, but before I could even kneel, a servant kicked the back of my knees, sending me sprawling before Annelise. They forced my head down. “You little peasant! It’s an honor for you to lick the young lady’s shoe!” My body was a canvas of bruises from their kicks. I fought back the bile rising in my throat, ready to submit. Suddenly, a loud voice called from outside. “A messenger from the palace! My lady, the Lord requires your presence!” Annelise finally released me, but not before giving me one last vicious kick. “Lock her back in the woodshed. No food or water until I say so.” As I watched them leave, the foolish smile on my face slowly faded. Annelise. The real game is just beginning. Everyone said I was a fool. They didn’t know I was pretending. The poisoned soup that addled my mind? That was my past life. The Countess couldn’t tolerate my mother, her husband’s beautiful mistress, so she poisoned her medicine. I drank it by mistake. In my past life, I became a true simpleton, deeply in love with a fiancé who despised me for my foolishness while sleeping with my sister. I was a daughter of the house, yet I lived worse than a servant. Annelise not only tormented me to death but had me violated by a dozen stable hands before I drew my last breath. Thank the heavens, I was reborn. This time, I pretended to drink the soup, hoping to save my mother, but she was killed anyway. Since then, I’ve lived on, playing the fool, waiting for my chance at revenge. If I remembered correctly, it would be less than three days before Annelise herself came to beg me to come out. Just as I was about to faint from hunger, the woodshed door creaked open. “Sister…?” I looked up groggily. A man’s leering chuckle echoed in the shadows. It was the steward. “You wretch. You’re locked in a woodshed. The Lady Annelise is of high birth. You’re just a lowborn bastard. What right do you have to call her sister?” He spoke, but his eyes roamed over me with ill intent. I narrowed my eyes. Annelise had forbidden anyone from calling me “Lady Lyra.” I was to be called “wretch.” She had dismissed my personal maid, leaving me vulnerable to the staff’s abuse. In my past life, even the servants could enter my chambers at will. I was pregnant before I was even married. I remembered this steward’s disgusting face well. He rolled up his sleeves, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Wretch, at least you’re pretty. Why don’t you have a little fun with me, and I’ll give you something to eat…” I tightened my grip on the dagger hidden in my sleeve, aiming for his throat. Just then, the door was thrown open. “You insolent dog!” Annelise stormed in with her retinue. The steward immediately fell to his knees, terrified. “How dare you disrespect the Lady Lyra! Drag him out and flog him!” Her guards rushed in and dragged the steward out, beating him half to death. He looked at her in disbelief. “My lady, but you ordered it! You said we could do anything to the wretch! Why are you…” Annelise smiled and helped me to my feet, ordering a change of clean clothes for me. “From this day forward, Lyra is reinstated as the second daughter of House Verne.” Everyone was stunned. Annelise, however, simply smiled and led me to our father. “Father, Lyra is of marrying age. Since the Crown Prince has requested a daughter of House Verne as his bride, let us send Lyra.” My father frowned, looking me over. “But Lyra is a simpleton. If she makes a fool of herself at the palace and offends the Prince, what then?” Annelise sneered. “Why worry, Father? That boy, Prince Alaric, is a dead man walking. He may hold the title of Crown Prince, but he won’t live much longer. The entire kingdom will belong to the Third Prince one day! If I am to marry, I will be a queen, not the wife of some short-lived invalid.” “Since he asked for a daughter of House Verne, well, Lyra, simple as she is, is still a daughter of this house, is she not?” My father sighed, his gaze falling on me as I greedily devoured a pastry. For a rare moment, his face held a hint of paternal affection. “Lyra, would you be willing to marry the Crown Prince?” I looked up at him, bewildered, then went back to my pastry, shaking my head firmly. “No. If sister doesn’t want him, Lyra doesn’t want him either.” The two of them exchanged a knowing smile. “But the Royal Palace has mountains of candied fruits and rivers of sweet wine,” my father said, pointing to the cake in my hand. “And every kind of delicious pastry you can imagine. Enough to last a lifetime.” My eyes instantly lit up. “I’ll marry him! Lyra wants to go to the palace!” With my consent, my father and Annelise began preparations for the wedding. The whole household knew: Lyra was no longer the despised bastard, but had been elevated to the status of a true daughter of the house. The day before I was to be married, Annelise took me for one last boat ride. I was cast aside while she rushed into the arms of Gareth, who was waiting nearby. “Gareth! I’ve missed you so much…” He held her, his face etched with worry. “Annelise, I heard the Prince had chosen a daughter of House Verne. I thought you would be the one to go. I haven’t slept for nights.” Annelise giggled. “Why would I marry Alaric? Of course, the fool is taking my place to marry that walking corpse. Everyone knows the Crown Prince is a sickly weakling, out of favor with the King. The King intends to make the Third Prince his heir. Marrying Alaric is a death sentence.” She placed a hand on her belly, her expression coy. “Besides, I’m carrying your child…” Gareth’s face lit up. “Truly? Then your… ‘chance encounter’ with the Third Prince must be moved up. Just… when you are the Third Prince’s wife, don’t forget me…” “And when our child inherits the throne, the whole kingdom will be ours!” I sat in the corner of the boat, munching on lotus seeds, leaving a pile of shells for them. And I heard every word. No wonder Gareth wouldn’t marry me. He was playing a much bigger game. Not only was he having an affair with Annelise, but he planned to pass his child off as royal blood. Once that child took the throne, he could be the power behind it. A bold plan. I wondered if it would cost him his life. The next morning, I was carried from my home in a royal palanquin. The moment I was inside, I began to vomit uncontrollably. Just moments before, in front of our father, Annelise had fed me a poison pill. “Lyra, remember,” she had hissed, “do not say what should not be said. If you betray father and me, this poison will be your end.” I shoved my fingers down my throat, forcing myself to retch until I coughed up the bitter pill. But a burning sensation lingered in my stomach, and I frowned, worried. After what felt like an eternity, the palanquin stopped. A fit of sharp coughs came from outside, and a long, slender, almost frail hand lifted the curtain. My face was covered by a red veil, but I could make out the figure of a sickly man, so weak he was seated in a wheelchair. “Lady Lyra. I am sorry you are burdened with marrying me.” His voice was deep and pleasant. This must be the Crown Prince. As I stepped down, I nearly stumbled, but the Prince’s hand shot out and steadied me. I was instantly alarmed. That grip… it was far too strong for a sickly man. This Prince, I realized, was also pretending. I dutifully followed Prince Alaric through the wedding ceremony. When the noise from outside finally died down, he slowly entered the bridal chamber. He paused in front of me, seeming to hesitate for a moment before lifting my veil and reaching to touch my face. I pulled away, meeting his eyes directly. “Your Highness, I have been poisoned.” He looked surprised, but I told him everything. “My father and sister do not favor you. To pledge their allegiance to the Third Prince, they have poisoned me. If you and I were to… consummate our marriage, your life would be in danger.” Alaric studied me for a long moment, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “You are remarkably honest. But you… why betray your own family to tell me this?” I lowered my head, my voice sincere. “Your Highness is my husband now. I only hope that when the House of Verne falls, you will protect me.” The look in Alaric’s eyes slowly changed. The initial suspicion vanished, replaced by a spark of amusement. “It seems that in refusing to send Annelise, they have sent me a treasure instead.” That night, the Prince slept fully clothed and did not touch me. He was a man of few words, silently observing my every move. The next morning, as I was about to prick my finger, he stopped me. “A lady should not have to do such things.” He took the dagger from my hand, sliced his own finger, and let the blood drip onto the white linen sheet on the bed. Sensing his gaze, I blushed. “Your Highness, please be assured. Once the poison is gone, we will not have to…” Alaric said nothing, simply turned and left. In the days that followed, I showed the Prince my complete loyalty. If I was going to drop the act of being a fool, I needed to secure my position by his side. I didn’t care that he was sickly, or that he spent his days in a wheelchair, half-dead. I served him with all my heart.

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1 Duke Alaric had loved me for five years, and in all that time, he defied my wishes only three times. The first was on the day my mother died, when he returned from the Northmarch with a pregnant dancing girl in tow. The second was on the day after my mother died, when he took an axe to the Silverwood trees my parents had planted for me in the manor gardens. “Liana is with child,” he’d said. “The scent of the blossoms disagrees with her.” The third was on the day of my mother’s funeral, when he held a grand wedding feast for Liana at the Gilded Lily Pavilion. As I clutched my mother’s memorial urn, I finally understood that when grief reaches its absolute peak, tears refuse to fall. And so, I used the golden sigil of command—a right earned by the blood of my family, the House of Valerius, all of whom had died as loyal marshals of the realm—to petition the King for a decree of annulment. When I hear a beloved has two minds, I come to him with a heart resolved to break. We had loved each other for five years. The breaking took only three days. After my mother’s passing, I volunteered to take command of the fortress in the Northmarch. Before the ducal manor, the Lord Chamberlain who delivered the royal assent looked at me with pity. “Lady Evelyn,” he said, his voice soft with regret. “You have waited for the Duke for five years. Your hardships were finally coming to an end. Why would you choose to go to that bitter, frozen land?” He sighed. “The Duke is utterly devoted to you. The entire capital has been waiting for your wedding celebration.” I lowered my eyes and smiled, a bitter, self-mocking curve of my lips. Devoted? Perhaps, once. That is, if I hadn’t, by chance, overheard a conversation between Alaric and the house physician seven days ago. “Your Grace,” the physician had said, his tone hesitant. “Lady Liana is now three months along. Perhaps it is time to cease the Duchess’s barrenness draught?” Alaric’s brow furrowed. His voice was cold, laced with a chilling obsession. “Why would we stop?” “If Evelyn Valerius were capable of bearing a child, she would use it as leverage to prevent my marriage to Liana. Only when she is crippled by her own shame and inadequacy will I have the chance to give Liana the title she deserves.” The physician sounded uneasy. “But my lady, the Duchess, is so deeply in love with you—” Alaric’s eyes flashed with ice. “If she had any sense, she would understand that I only married her to repay the debt I owe her father and brothers for saving my life. I would never have had to scheme so desperately to bring Liana home otherwise!” He finished with a sneer. “It is her great fortune to have married me at all!” I stood outside the door, hearing every single word. A cold so profound it felt like it was in my bones washed over me, and my legs trembled, barely able to hold my weight. So, the tonics the physician brought me each day were not to restore my health. They were draughts of barrenness, meant to ensure I would never, ever conceive. I stumbled back, my heart seizing. A year ago, Alaric had been ambushed by raiders in the Northmarch. I had ridden for five days straight without rest, and when I found him, I had sliced open my own wrist and let three full bowls of my blood drain out to save him from the brink of death. The physician who treated me then told me my body had been gravely weakened, that I would likely never bear children. I was devastated, lost in a grief so deep I wished for death. It was Alaric who had knelt before me in front of the entire court, swearing he did not care that I was barren. The King, moved by his valor in battle and his profound love for me, had granted him the title of Duke of the Northmarch. But I never imagined it was a lie. The physician who diagnosed my infertility had been planted by Alaric from the very beginning. He convinced me I was barren, and then, with draught after draught, he stole from me my right to ever become a mother. And he did all of this, this intricate, cruel deception, simply to win military glory and a title, so he could one day openly marry the woman he brought back from the Northmarch. The thought drew a hollow, desolate smile to my face. “Lord Chamberlain,” I said, my voice steady. “My mind is made up.” Seeing my resolve, the old courtier did not press further. “His Majesty has decreed it. At the conclusion of Lady Valerius’s funeral rites, the decree of annulment shall be issued. You may then depart with your command, my lady.” At the mention of my mother, my eyes burned. My husband, the man who had sworn to cherish and honor my mother as his own, who had promised me a life with him and him alone, had not once come to see her since his return to the capital. He probably didn’t even know she had died. I fought back tears and accepted the King’s command. It was alright. In one more day, I would have my annulment. I could leave this manor forever. Returning to the manor with the royal scroll, I ran right into Alaric. Seeing my thin clothes, he immediately shrugged off his own heavy cloak and draped it over my shoulders, his touch a familiar gesture of concern. “The spring chill is treacherous. Why aren’t you wearing more? You’ll make me worry myself sick.” His cloak was saturated with a heavy, sweet perfume. In all the capital, only Liana wore that scent. The gesture was so absurd I could only find it laughable. I looked up at him, my face pale and gaunt. But Alaric didn’t even notice. He was lost in his own thoughts. “Ah, that reminds me. In your dowry, weren’t there two bolts of fine silk brocade? I was thinking of having a gown made for Liana.” He continued, his tone earnest. “After all, if she hadn’t taken care of me in the Northmarch, I might never have seen you again.” I lowered my gaze, and for the first time, I didn’t argue. “Very well.” 2 “Evelyn, don’t misunderstand,” he said quickly. “I just pity her, all alone with no one to rely on. It’s not like you. You have me.” I forced a smile. “It’s no matter. I don’t mind. Go on, take it.” With my permission, Alaric’s face lit up with undisguised joy. He released my hand and hurried towards the storeroom. I watched as he carefully selected three bolts of iridescent, water-colored silk. He then summoned the finest tailor in the capital, his voice gentle and serious as he gave meticulous instructions on the cut and embroidery. In the five years since our betrothal, he had never once shown me such care. A humorless smile touched my lips. I walked over to him and presented him with a scroll. “This is a royal decree of marriage I petitioned for, on behalf of you and Liana,” I said. “Consider it a way to give her child a proper name.” Alaric froze, a flash of pure ecstasy in his eyes. But he quickly masked it, pulling me into a fierce embrace, his voice thick with feigned heartbreak. “Evelyn, you sacrifice so much for me. I can never repay you.” He held me tight. “Rest assured, no matter what happens, the lady of this house will always be you.” His embrace was as warm as ever. But this time, it only made my stomach churn. The moment the new gowns were finished, Alaric took the decree and, making some excuse, left the manor. Watching his retreating back, I was suddenly thrown back in time. Three days ago, the old steward of my family’s estate had come to me. My mother’s old illness had returned, he’d said. She had coughed up so much blood it had soaked half her bedding. Her time was short. I had panicked, grabbing Alaric as he was about to leave the manor, my voice choked with tears. “Alaric, can you please come with me to my family’s estate? My mother—” Before I could finish, Liana’s sweet, cloying voice drifted in from the courtyard. “Alaric, my love! You promised you would help me choose new hairpins today. Are you ready?” At the sound of her voice, Alaric pushed my hand away, his expression strained. “I’m terribly busy right now, Evelyn. Can I go with you when I have a spare moment?” But my mother closed her eyes for the last time, and Alaric never came. In that moment, all my hope, all my love, shattered into dust. I knelt at my mother’s bedside, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. With a tremendous effort, she gripped my hand, a dry, faint smile on her lips. “Alaric didn’t come,” she whispered, each word a struggle. “Don’t be angry with him when you go back.” “After I’m gone, he is all you have left in this world.” “You must be good to each other… you must…” I watched her take her last breath, and my heart felt as if it had been ripped from my chest by a wild beast. Tears swam in my eyes, and I wanted to scream, Mother, the man you call my only support is with another woman right now. For her, he has made it so I can never have children of my own. There were twelve hours until my departure from the capital. I hadn’t even begun to pack my belongings when Alaric, without a moment’s delay, brought Liana to the manor. When I went to the side courtyard, I found Alaric himself, axe in hand, chopping down the twin Silverwood trees he had planted for me as a symbol of our love. He looked up, his gaze faltering when it met mine. He stood at the courtyard gate, holding the hand of Liana, who was dressed in a striking crimson gown. He, so handsome; she, so exquisitely beautiful. They looked like a pair destined for each other. Liana, her face a mask of false concern, walked towards me, one hand on her belly. “The maids told me these were your favorite trees, sister,” she sighed. “It’s all my fault. I only mentioned that the scent of the blossoms made me feel unwell, and His Grace insisted on cutting them down.” She clutched Alaric’s arm, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “I never wanted to marry him before you, sister. But the Duke worries so for the child in my womb.” Her eyes raked over me, a cruel glint within them. “It is only after becoming a mother myself that I’ve learned… a woman’s life is one thing before she is a mother, and quite another after. It is a burden you, thankfully, will never have to bear.” Every word was a poisoned dart aimed directly at my heart. But Alaric didn’t care. He pulled her protectively behind him and said to me, his voice placating, “Liana is with child. Don’t lower yourself to her level.” He had no memory of the promise he made me five years ago, before he, my father, and my brothers rode off to war against the northern hordes. He had blushed and sworn three things to me. First, that when he returned victorious, my father and brothers would be with him, safe and sound. Second, that when he had won his glory, he would make me his wife. Third, that in this life, he would take no other. But in the end, my father had died taking a flurry of blades meant for Alaric. My brother had been drawn and quartered by the enemy while covering Alaric’s retreat. When my mother heard the news, she wept tears of blood until she fell ill and never recovered. And Alaric, his glory won, now intended to marry the woman he brought back from the Northmarch. He had broken all three promises. I looked at him, and he finally seemed to notice me, asking absently: 3 “Evelyn, the wind is cold. Where are you going with those bags?” I pulled my lips into a thin, humorless line. “I’m returning to my family home.” “Oh, good,” Liana said, her smile wide, but her eyes filled with scorn and malice. “For a moment, I was worried you were angry with me and wouldn’t be attending my wedding to Alaric.” Her gaze dropped and she suddenly noticed the pair of Twin Dove Clasps I held in my hand. Her eyes lit up, and without asking, she snatched them from me. “Oh, I like these. Alaric, darling, make your sister give them to me, won’t you?” Alaric’s expression froze. He looked at me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But before he could speak, I said, my voice devoid of all emotion, “You may have them.” For a second, I saw utter disbelief in Alaric’s eyes. Liana’s triumphant smile also faltered. She had just noticed the inscription on the clasps: our two names, intertwined. They were our betrothal gift. A vicious light entered her eyes. She raised the clasps high and smashed them onto the ground. “What worthless trinkets,” she spat. “They look fine from a distance, but up close, they’re as common as scrap metal.” With a sharp crack, the two clasps broke into four pieces, lying amidst the muddy, fallen petals of the Silverwood trees. Just like my five years of love for Alaric. I gave a desolate smile. There was nothing left to hold on to. I turned to leave. Seeing my frail figure, so thin it looked as if the wind might blow me away, a strange, inexplicable panic seized Alaric. “Wait!” I turned back, my gaze calm and empty. “I promise you,” he said, his voice earnest. “After the wedding tomorrow, I will go with you to see your mother.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, not for him, but for my mother. I hid my burning eyes and said nothing. There was no point. There were only four hours left until my departure from the capital. My mother’s funeral was to be held on the exact same day as Alaric and Liana’s wedding. I held my mother’s urn, every step feeling as if I were walking on the blades of knives, the pain searing through my flesh and into my very bones. White mourning papers filled the air like snow. As I rounded a corner, I came face to face with Alaric. He was dressed in celebratory red, mounted on a magnificent warhorse, his face beaming with joy. Behind him was Liana’s grand bridal carriage, carried by eight men, followed by a procession of wedding gifts that stretched for a mile. The joyous music and the cheers of the crowd filled the streets. Until I appeared, holding my mother’s urn, dressed in simple, white mourning clothes. It was as if a slash of white had cut through a sea of red. The crowd fell silent. Seeing me, the smile on Alaric’s face froze. His eyes filled with anger. “Evelyn,” he hissed, “must you humiliate me like this on my wedding day?” The old me would have cried, would have defended myself. But this time, I felt nothing. Not a single ripple in the dead calm of my heart. I simply said, “Move.” Alaric looked at me as if I were a stranger. Liana, however, suddenly stepped down from her carriage, her face streaked with tears. “Lady Evelyn, I know you do not like me, but you must think of Alaric!” She sobbed. “You are already unable to bear children! Are you trying to drive me to my death by making such a scene at my wedding?” “Fine! I will die, then!” She screamed and threw herself headfirst towards the carriage wheel. Alaric, panicked, caught her and then turned on me, his voice frigid. “Evelyn, have you not caused enough trouble? Will you not be satisfied until Liana is dead?” At his words, the crowd’s gaze turned on me, filled with scorn. “Is that the woman Duke Alaric was meant to marry? So jealous and without virtue.” “To think she would use such a tactic to force her husband’s hand. What a spectacle.” I heard their whispers, but my heart remained as still and silent as a pool of stagnant water. Alaric bit his lip. My lonely figure in the crowd reminded him of something, and for a moment, he looked lost. He reached out a hand, as if to touch me, but I shoved it away. “Don’t touch me!” My reaction seemed to extinguish the last flicker of gentleness in his eyes, leaving them cold as ice. He pushed the weeping Liana towards me. “Apologize to Liana. Now,” he commanded. “Or else—” He never finished his sentence. Nine royal attendants, all dressed in white mourning robes, cut through the red silk and celebratory music of the procession and stopped directly in front of him. “A decree from His Majesty the King!” The announcement sent a wave of confusion through the crowd. In the sudden jostling, the black cloth covering the urn in my hands fell away, revealing the nine characters I had carved myself: The Spirit Urn of the Lady Valerius, née Wang. A collective gasp went through the ducal wedding party. The crowd fell utterly silent. And in that instant, Alaric’s face went bone-white.

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I left the window open—let the triad boss hear me with other men all night. Morning came. His face darkened. “How many men? Room for one more?” I lay surrounded, coldly refusing. “Don’t you love your ‘little sister’?” He stood bloodshot, frozen. I’d fought ten years to build his empire. Yet he chose some college girl over me. His men protested: “Valerie carved this territory with you. Why marry another?” Caleb crushed his cigarette, thumbing the matching ring he wore with Helen. “Valerie? A bloodstained blade. Sleeping with her disgusts me.” “What if she turns on you?” “This city is mine. Losing her means nothing.” Outside the door, I listened. Dumped the medical supplies I’d brought him. Texted his enemy: “Caleb’s empire—and his life. Yours for the taking.” 1 I was trying to arrange for a speedboat to get off the island when Caleb found me. “A big shipment is arriving the day after tomorrow. I need you to personally oversee the reception. And clear out your house. I have a use for it.” His voice was a low, serious command, but I just found it laughable. To marry Helen, he was willing to throw my life away. Even with Edman closing in, he wanted me to risk my neck to bring his little flower to the island. He really was a fool for love. A use for my house? What else could it be but a place for Helen to live? I gave a cold, “Okay.” My flat reaction seemed to displease him. He frowned. “What’s with the attitude now? The only reason I haven’t made our relationship public is because things are unstable. Edman is watching my every move. I can’t let the men get complacent because of one woman.” “Your most important job right now is to help me break Edman’s siege.” Caleb always had a way of twisting things, of making me feel small. I used to think it was his way of protecting me, so I fought even harder for him. Now, it just sounded ridiculous. I placed the boat requisition form in front of him, my voice flat. “I don’t have an attitude. I’m used to it.” He sensed something was off. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and his signature was so sharp it tore through the paper. “Valerie! What’s with the long face? I’m just asking for your house. Everything on this island is mine. Your life is mine. You think I can’t tell you what to do?” He threw the paper in my face. “And in the future, don’t bother me with trivial things like island procurement. I don’t have time for you.” I knew he had misunderstood, but I didn’t explain. I just gave a perfunctory nod and walked out. Seeing the speedboat requisition in my hand, I smiled, a genuine, relaxed smile. I had been with Caleb for ten years, fighting for his territory. We were childhood sweethearts, comrades who would die for each other, and even the most intimate of lovers. I had always dreamed of marrying him. He had hinted at it too, saying that once he had the whole city in his hands, he would give me what I wanted. But now I realized it was all just my own wishful thinking, a lie woven from his manipulation of my feelings. And now he was marrying someone else. That night, a team of heavily armed mercenaries escorted Helen to the island. She was a vision in a white dress, but her innocent eyes were filled with a smug, triumphant gleam. “You’ve worked so hard for Caleb for over a decade, sister. You’ve earned your rest.” “I’ll make sure he promotes you, and I’ll even send you a few male models. A woman’s personal life is important, after all.” “Unlike Caleb… he can’t wait a single moment. He’s marrying me tomorrow. Oh, it’s just…” I tightened my grip on my gun, barely restraining the urge to put a bullet in her. “Let’s go.” I gave her a cold glance and started to walk away. But Helen blocked my path, pulling a diary from her bag. “These are all the sweet nothings Caleb wrote to me over the years when he was thinking of me. It’s too heavy to carry. Would you mind throwing it away for me, sister?” With that, she swished her skirt and walked away. I stood there, the cold wind whipping off the rocks, and with trembling hands, I opened the diary. April 12, 2024. The day I fought my way through an ambush to save him. He had written, “Helen, if I make it out of this alive, I’ll marry you.” August 5, 2023. The day I heard he had been ambushed by Edman during a business trip. I had charged into the enemy camp with two machetes to rescue him. He had written, “Darling, you smelled so sweet today.” January 24, 2021. The day he was arrested, and I was about to take the fall for him. He had written, “If it were you, Helen, I would never let you suffer like this.” Every word in the diary was a knife to the heart, a slow, agonizing evisceration. How many times had I begged Caleb to marry me? He would always kiss my forehead and say, “Valerie, wait for me.” “I have too many enemies. I’m afraid I haven’t cleared the way for you yet. When I have the whole city, I’ll marry you, okay?” But my pleas were always met with empty promises. Finally, a message came back from the other side. Two simple words, but they were a final, definitive blow, a point of no return. “Deal.” I tapped the screen, a desperate need to confirm one more thing. I asked, “On August 5, 2023, you were the one who ambushed Caleb, right?” The reply was instant, each word a drop of blood. “I was framed!” “No way. So you’re the one who chased me for nine blocks with two machetes over that? It wasn’t me!” I laughed at myself, a bitter, hollow sound. So, in Caleb’s eyes, I was just a clown, a toy to be played with. If that was the case, why should I stick around for their amusement? I finalized the details with Edman and started back. But then I heard Caleb talking to his men by the yacht. “Boss, the bride’s dress has arrived. It’s the ten-billion-dollar gown from the royal auction, just like you requested.” “We’re just worried about Valerie. If she makes a scene and exposes our location, we could all be wiped out.” Caleb was unconcerned. “I love Helen, and she will be my only wife. Tomorrow’s wedding must go off without a hitch. I will not tolerate any accidents.” “Not even from Valerie. I’ll make sure she stays quiet.” “And another thing. Keep your men’s mouths shut. If anyone leaks a single word, I’ll feed him to the sharks.” Even though I had already decided to leave, hearing the man who had once loved me so fiercely lie and belittle me like this still sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my heart. Back in my room, I packed my things. Besides my ID, I looked around at the arsenal of weapons and realized Caleb had never given me anything else. He only ever threw weapons at me, telling me to protect him. I had asked for dresses and jewelry before, but he had just scoffed. “Valerie, even in a dress and necklace, you don’t look like a woman. Don’t waste them.” But Helen’s luggage contained a truckload of jewels and beautiful dresses. Why could she wear them, but not me? I rummaged through my closet and pulled out a red dress from the very back. I put on a pair of high heels and even did my makeup. Just then, Helen burst into my room without knocking. “Valerie, you’ve seen the diary. Caleb’s true love is…” Her words died in her throat. She saw me, transformed, stunningly beautiful, and her jaw dropped. When she recovered, she frowned. “I thought you had some shame. I thought when you knew Caleb didn’t love you, you’d just slink away.” “But you’re actually trying to seduce him? You shameless hussy! I’ll tear you apart!” She lunged at me, trying to scratch my face, but her clumsy attack was easily deflected. I slapped her. “Valerie! You dare hit me? Caleb will make you pay!” she shrieked. I crossed my arms and watched her tantrum. “Thanks for the compliment. I’m definitely prettier than you.” The next second, she dropped to her knees and started slapping herself. “Sister, I’m the worthless one. I shouldn’t have married Caleb. As long as you don’t ruin the wedding, you can beat me to death!” I was confused. Suddenly, a foot came flying at me. “Valerie! Did you think my words were just empty threats? You dare bully Helen!” If Caleb’s furious kick had connected, I would have been half-dead. So, what was I to him? A hunting dog? A punching bag to be used and abused after I had served my purpose? I dodged just in time, but my high heel twisted my ankle. I winced, fighting back the pain as I looked at him. Caleb helped Helen to her feet, his cold eyes fixed on me. When he saw my face, his eyes lit up for a moment, but his words were still ice. “Valerie, no matter how beautiful you dress up, you’ll never be half as good as Helen in my eyes.” Helen sobbed, clinging to his arm. “Caleb, it was sister who forced it out of me. I didn’t mean to break my promise. I’m so sorry…” Caleb pulled her into his arms, his voice soft as water. “It’s a small thing. No one blames you.” I laughed bitterly. A moment ago, he was threatening his men with death to keep the wedding a secret. Now that Helen had blurted it out, it was just a “small thing.” She really could do no wrong in his eyes. He doted on her so much. So what was I? A fool? “So you’re really marrying her?” I stared at Caleb, my eyes burning. I desperately wanted to know how he would explain it to me. I thought he would at least be guilty, that he would panic, beg me to let it go, to let them be happy. But Caleb just frowned, unconcerned. “Yes. Tomorrow is the wedding. You can come, but you can’t make a scene. Valerie, don’t force my hand.” In that instant, my last shred of hope for Caleb shattered. It wasn’t that the time wasn’t right to marry me. It was that the person wasn’t right. With Helen, the tight security, the siege, none of it mattered anymore. He could even be so brazen as to benevolently allow me to attend their wedding. How could a person be so cruel? I fought back the tears, my voice a low, pained growl. “Get… out.” But Helen pushed her luck. “Caleb, I don’t know many people here. I was hoping sister could be our bridesmaid, but I’m afraid of offending her…” Seeing his beloved so timid and pleading, Caleb’s heart softened. He ordered me, “Valerie, since you already know we’re getting married, being a bridesmaid is a small thing. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” “I don’t want to see either of you. Get out!” My anger finally exploded. I grabbed a nearby club and chased them out. “Get out!” I slammed the door shut and collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. A single tear of despair escaped my eye. Just then, my phone lit up. It was a message from Edman. I opened it, annoyed, but my face instantly flushed. “The red dress suits you. You look beautiful.” “Take off the heels. Put some medicine on your ankle.” I was surprised he knew about my ankle. But medicine? Just as I was thinking, a drone flew up to my window, carrying a small box. I opened it. Inside was another red dress and a tube of liniment. So he had found Caleb’s stronghold long ago. He just hadn’t made a move. I really had chosen the right ally. I had just applied the medicine and was about to get ready for bed when Caleb came back. He lifted me into his arms and gently placed me on the bed. He was holding a bottle of bruise ointment. “Shh, don’t be afraid. I’ll put it on for you.” It seemed to be raining outside. Caleb was soaked, but he carefully dried his hands before gently applying the ointment to my ankle. I was terrified of pain. When I first started fighting with Caleb, even a small scrape would make me cry uncontrollably. Every time I got hurt, Caleb, no matter how bruised he was himself, would stay by my side and let me bite his arm to bear the pain. Those years were hard, but I felt safe. But then, one day, his presence by my bedside disappeared. I had countless near-death experiences after that, countless scars, big and small, and he never gave me a second glance. But now that I wasn’t afraid of pain anymore, he was suddenly here to take care of me. A sudden pang of conscience? Caleb’s apologetic voice drifted over. “Valerie, you’ve lost weight. I’ve been neglecting you lately. I’m sorry.” “I didn’t tell you about the wedding because I was afraid you’d overthink it. Helen saved my life, and she was targeted because of me. I have to protect her.” “But don’t worry, I won’t touch her. I only love you. As soon as I deal with Edman, I’ll divorce her and marry you. Okay?” He massaged my ankle, but my eyes were fixed on the wedding ring on his finger. I looked at him, my gaze filled with a desolate sorrow. “Caleb, in all these years, did you ever love me?” He froze for a moment, then knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms, his voice thick with emotion. “Yes. I only love you, Valerie.” Then, he handed me a glass of milk, his eyes full of a soft, lingering affection. “Here, drink some milk. Get some sleep. You can go to the wedding tomorrow if you want. I won’t stop you.” But I could taste it. The milk was drugged. Enough to make me sleep through the entire next day. My throat tightened, and I could barely breathe. He was still lying to me. All for Helen, so she could marry him without a hitch. So this was his way of making me “stay quiet.” I drank all the milk, a single tear rolling down my cheek. My heart was dead. But Caleb smiled, a brilliant, dazzling smile. I closed my eyes under his gentle gaze. He didn’t know that after years of fighting for him, I had developed a tolerance to sleeping pills. A short while later, I heard Helen’s soft moans by my ear. “Caleb, you were gone so long, I thought you were staying here tonight.” Caleb kissed her passionately. “Of course not. She’s just a human shield for me. I’m still being watched by Edman. I need to keep her around to use her.” “Edman is wary of her. He won’t make a fatal move against me.” Helen giggled. “Where are your hands going? Naughty~” “Mmm, my favorite…” Caleb’s voice was a low, hoarse growl. The sound of rustling fabric grew louder. They were locked in a passionate kiss. My heart felt like it had been ripped open, a tearing, agonizing pain. With Caleb, I had always been unconditionally submissive. He had never been this doting, this crazed with me. “Valerie, can you take the fall for me?” “Valerie, I’m in a shootout with Edman. I need you.” And I would always agree, even if it cost me my life. Finally, they left. I lay awake the entire night.

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Good news: I hooked up with a total stud, an absolute god in bed. Even better news: We successfully became friends with benefits. Bad news: He’s my new boss. My world is ending. 01 “Again.” The scorching body behind me pressed close, a silent demand. “Still?” I managed, my brow furrowed. My mouth said no, but my body was a shameless traitor. I turned my head and crushed my lips against his. … Adrian Thorne and I spent the entire weekend tangled up in each other, day and night a blur of skin and sweat. It wasn’t until Sunday evening, with him still looking like a predator who’d gotten a taste of his favorite prey and was hungry for more, that I finally put my foot down. I scrambled around the chaotic mess of the floor, hunting for my clothes. “No way,” I said, my voice strained. “I have an early meeting tomorrow. I can’t be late.” I pulled on my pants, adding, “The new boss is starting. I need to make a good first impression.” He was sprawled on the bed, bare-chested and magnificent, a picture of lazy satisfaction. He sighed with genuine regret. “Fine. See you next week.” “Deal.” Monday morning, I walked into the office dressed to the nines in my suit, ID badge clipped neatly to my pocket. Jenna, my cubicle neighbor, immediately leaned in, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “Have you heard? The new CEO is supposed to be young and hot.” I couldn’t care less what he looked like. “I just hope he’s a decent human being,” I grumbled. Our last CEO was a real piece of work, treating us all like corporate drones to be worked to death. We’d all been praying for his transfer, hoping his replacement would be at least marginally better. In the conference room, the new CEO made his grand entrance to a wave of enthusiastic applause. As I looked up at the man standing at the head of the table, my world tilted on its axis. It was Adrian Thorne. My FWB. How could the world be this small? I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. The room was packed, so I prayed he wouldn’t spot me as I tried to shrink into my chair, my head bowed so low it was practically under the table. A sharp nudge to my wrist startled me. “Leo,” Jenna whispered, “Mr. Thorne is calling on you.” “Who’s Leo?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized my mistake. Then I heard Adrian’s voice, clear and commanding, call my name again. I sucked in a sharp breath and slowly, shakily, got to my feet. The moment he saw me, a flicker of undisguised shock crossed his face. I felt a hot flush of guilt creep up my neck. Because I’d told him my name was Finn. He stared at me for two long, meaningful seconds before his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Leo,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “this project is your team’s responsibility. Please, walk us through it.” 02 I gave the briefest report I could manage, and Adrian asked only two simple questions. The second the meeting ended, I bolted from the room as if the hounds of hell were on my heels. No joke, in that short one-hour meeting, I’d already drafted my resignation letter in my head. But then… the thought of the current economy, of my mortgage and car payments, hit me like a splash of cold water. I guess I could just plug my ears and pretend this wasn’t happening. For now. Jenna came back from the meeting completely star-struck. “Oh my god, Mr. Thorne is so handsome,” she gushed. “Having a hottie like that to look at makes being a wage slave almost bearable. I forgive the world for three seconds.” I chuckled. “Get a grip.” She continued her swooning. “Even in that dress shirt, you can just tell he has an amazing body. The testosterone is practically radiating off him.” Amazing was an understatement. It was phenomenal. And it felt even better than it looked. But the thought of the man who’d whispered an endless stream of dirty talk in my ear now being my big boss made me want to flee the planet. Just then, Adrian’s secretary clicked over in her heels. “Leo, Mr. Thorne wants to see you in his office.” I rose to my feet, feeling utterly dead inside. Couldn’t the Earth just explode right now? Please? 03 The spacious office offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the city through its floor-to-ceiling windows. “Mr. Thorne, you wanted to see me?” Adrian looked up from his computer, his eyes raking over me. “Leo?” “Yes, Mr. Thorne.” He arched an eyebrow. “Finn?” I played dumb. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne, who’s Finn?” A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. “Cut the act,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There aren’t two people in the world who not only look identical but also have a mole in the exact same spot.” I blurted out, “A mole where?” He playfully tugged on his earlobe. Shit. I have a mole on my earlobe. A mole that this very man, now sitting before me in a crisp suit, was kissing just yesterday. My expression hardened into a mask. Adrian’s smile was pure mischief. “And Adrian Thorne is my real name, by the way.” …Was he throwing shade at me for giving him a fake name? Seeing there was no way out, I threw in the towel. “Well, Mr. Thorne,” I said with a strained laugh, “what a coincidence.” His eyes gleamed. “So, I’m the ‘new boss’ you were talking about.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low purr. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you leave yesterday…” I held up my hands in surrender. “Mr. Thorne, please. At the office, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. Strictly business, no personal stuff.” He nodded, though he looked a little disappointed. I fled his office like I was escaping a fire. 04 Adrian and I had a purely physical relationship. To put it bluntly, we were friends with benefits. It started six months ago. The straight guy I’d been crushing on for years finally got a girlfriend, and I went to a bar to drown my sorrows. I ended up sharing a table with Adrian. He seemed to be in a foul mood too, and some creep slipped something into his drink. Being the good Samaritan I am, I helped him out of the bar. But he wasn’t such a good Samaritan. He started getting handsy. Lost in the moment, seduced by his ridiculously handsome face, I found myself in bed with him. As I stared at that face, I figured, what the hell, and kissed him back. The first time was a bit clumsy, both of us fumbling in the dark. But we slowly found our rhythm, and we didn’t stop until the first light of dawn painted the sky. After that, we reached a mutual understanding. No feelings, just bodies. We’d meet up once a week. We were surprisingly compatible in bed. Every time we met, it was like we were trying to break the mattress. It was a welcome relief from my soul-crushing corporate drone life. We knew nothing about each other’s personal lives. I’d assumed he was just another working stiff like me—slaving away on weekdays and blowing off steam on weekends. I never imagined he was secretly moonlighting as a CEO. And a CEO was one thing, but the CEO of my company? Damn it! 05 For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking forward to the weekend. Which, of course, meant it arrived at lightning speed. Adrian was swamped with work all week. The only time I saw him was a brief encounter at the coffee shop downstairs. I pretended to be on a call and avoided his gaze. On Friday, during my lunch break, I got a text from him. [Where are we meeting this week?] We usually mixed it up—sometimes a hotel, sometimes his car. Once, for a thrill, we even did it outdoors. I typed out the excuse I’d prepared. [Sorry, Mr. Thorne. I have to go home for my mom’s birthday this weekend.] Adrian: [Alright.] Adrian: [Didn’t we agree to keep work and life separate? Just call me by my name when we’re talking about personal stuff.] Oh, God. There was no way I could separate them. Not after seeing him tear into the lead of the adjacent team in a meeting that morning. “Did you come up with this proposal with your feet?” he’d asked, his voice dripping with ice. The atmosphere in the conference room had been cold enough to freeze hell over. The other team lead could only stand there, fuming silently. When it was my turn to present, I felt like I was walking a tightrope over a volcano. After I finished, Adrian’s only comment was, “The proposal is flashy, but have you considered if it’s even feasible?” … Does anyone understand my pain? Now I’m supposed to get into bed with this guy? I’d rather choose celibacy. 06 Another week passed. Adrian’s text arrived right on schedule. [Where to this weekend?] Me: [A friend’s getting married. I have to go to the next city over to be his best man.] Adrian: [No free time at all?] Was he that desperate? Me: [Yeah, the round trip alone is seven or eight hours.] In reality, there was no wedding. I was just a coward. Two weeks of celibacy was starting to take its toll. The craving was a constant, dull ache. On Saturday, I resorted to using some… toys at home. It helped, a little, but not much. My thoughts inevitably drifted to Adrian. The more I thought, the more heated I became. To cool off, I took a cab to the office to get some work done. Making money makes me happy, I told myself. But the moment I swiped my ID badge and the door clicked open, my soul shattered. Dear God, you really have it out for me. Why was Adrian also working overtime? He emerged from the breakroom, a cup of coffee in hand, and arched an eyebrow at me. “The next city over? Best man?” I forced a dry laugh. “The wedding was… uh, cancelled. Last minute.” Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh. He stated it as a fact, not a question. “Leo. You’re avoiding me.” 07 I sat frozen at my desk, plotting my escape. But Adrian, as if reading my mind, called my office line. “Come to my office. I want to go over the proposal with you.” Clutching a folder like a shield, I knocked on his door. It swung open from the inside, and a strong arm yanked me in. Adrian slammed me against the door and kissed me, fierce and demanding. At first, I struggled, pushing against his chest. But then, that familiar, intoxicating feeling washed over me. I became the aggressor, my hands tangling in his hair as the folder fell to the floor with a soft thud. Adrian lifted me into his arms and kicked open the door to the private lounge inside his office. White shirts and tailored trousers were soon discarded on the floor. Adrian’s seductive voice whispered from behind me, “I never thought I’d get to unlock the ‘office play’ achievement.” … I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at his floor-to-ceiling windows or his desk the same way again. The neon lights of the city twinkled outside. Without us noticing, the sky had turned dark. Damn you, Adrian Thorne. I came here to work! When he emerged from the shower, his chest was still glistening with water, dotted with marks I’d left behind. “The bistro downstairs is pretty good. My treat.” I picked up the crumpled folder from the floor. “I’m not hungry.” Just then, my stomach let out a traitorous growl. Adrian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Come on. We both worked hard today.” “…” Redefining the term “overtime.” 08 In the private room at the bistro, I ordered a feast. This place was expensive; Jenna and I only ever came here on payday. Adrian barely ate, placing pieces of food on my plate from time to time. “Mr. Thorne, please, you eat. Don’t worry about me,” I said, flustered. He paused, chopsticks hovering. “It’s after work hours. Just call me Adrian.” I couldn’t. It felt too weird. In the past six months, we’d occasionally eaten together, but it was always a quick bite in the middle of… other activities. This was the first time we were sitting down for a proper meal. It was just so, so strange. I buried my head in my food, eating ferociously to cover my awkwardness. After dinner, it started to rain. Adrian dangled his car keys. “I’ll drive you home.” I pulled out my phone and opened the ride-share app. “I’ll just get a cab.” Great. 100 people in the queue ahead of me. “It’s raining, you won’t get a ride,” Adrian insisted. “Let me take you.” I found myself sitting in Adrian’s Bentley. I’d opened the back door. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I your chauffeur?” I wouldn’t dare. I walked around to the front. “Let me drive.” Adrian laughed. “Get in the passenger seat.” The whole way, I was lost in thought. Choosing to become friends with benefits with Adrian was probably the most rebellious thing I’d ever done. I’ve always been someone who keeps my work and personal life strictly separate. Adrian only knew me in one context. He knew nothing else about my life. That’s why I could always relax with him. But now he was my boss. Could I ever be as uninhibited with him as I was before? What if our colleagues found out? I hated the unknown. Before getting out of the car, I mustered my courage and looked at him. “Mr. Thorne, let’s end this. We don’t need to see each other on weekends anymore.” He looked confused. “Why? Just because I’m your boss now?” Of course, I couldn’t say yes. I still had to work under him. “I just feel like it’s time to end this kind of relationship. It was never a long-term plan.” His expression darkened. I unbuckled my seatbelt and scrambled out of the car. To be honest, a part of me felt a pang of regret. I shook my head, forcing myself not to overthink it. It’s just my body, I told myself. It just misses his.

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