Category: English

1 Two days before our planned wedding, Victoria left me stranded on a winding mountain road to pick up Blake, her male assistant, for a celebration dinner. When my car plummeted off the cliff during the crash, she was busy having a heated tryst with Blake in her own car. My desperate calls for help, dozens of them, met with a busy signal, drowned out by their ecstatic cries. When I was rushed to the ER, I begged the nurse to inform her. But on the other end of the line, Victoria raged, “Tell him to call me when he’s dead! If he’s not dead, leave me alone! Always causing trouble, day in and day out!” The moment I closed my eyes, my heart turned to ash. The first thing I did after waking from surgery was cancel our wedding registration. “Alex, where the hell are you?! I’ve been waiting at City Hall for ten minutes!” Victoria’s voice, blazing with fury, screamed through the phone. “I was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I canceled our wedding.” Every breath tasted of antiseptic, and my entire body ached as if it had been put through a meat grinder. A long silence hung on the other end. “Well, then, let’s not register for now.” Her casual tone, delivering the most cutting words, instantly froze me. “Good timing, actually. I’m taking the staff on a trip this long weekend.” She hung up before I could even respond. I stared at the disconnected call, a chill spreading through me. Not a single word of concern, not a single apology. As if I were just some ordinary stranger. Ten years of devotion, poured down the drain. I had loved the wrong person. I was hospitalized for seven days. Seven days during which Victoria never once appeared, never even made a single call. Scrolling through Blake’s social media, I discovered that Victoria’s “employee trip” was just a solo vacation to Hawaii with him. Hawaii, the very place I had always dreamed of for our honeymoon. Now she was there with another man. Blake’s photo showed him in swim trunks by the glassy ocean, a matching ring gleaming on his hand. In the background, in a blurry corner, Victoria’s silhouette was unmistakable. 【Business perk from the boss lady!】 I’d seen those very rings in Victoria’s pocket once. I’d thought they were a surprise for our wedding registration. I even had a diamond ring, her favorite, ready for her. Just my foolish self-delusion, again. I scoffed and “liked” the post. Unexpectedly, my phone rang the very next second. It was Victoria. “Alex, are you looking for trouble?! What’s with the passive-aggressive ‘like’?! Blake’s threatening to come back now, you think round-trip tickets are free?!” Her accusatory tone sent a hot flush to my throat. “Apologize to Blake immediately! He just helped me close a massive contract last month. If he quits, I swear, I’m not done with you!” Faced with Victoria’s accusations, I couldn’t even be bothered to expose her lies. Rings worth hundreds of thousands for an employee at a celebration dinner, even matching couple’s rings, and then a private Hawaiian getaway with him? It was their wedding and honeymoon, practically. I hung up, unliking the post. Staring at the last number on my recent calls, I finally dialed. “Amelia, I want to come back to you. Do you still want me?” Her voice, laced with endless affection, came through the line. “I told you, my side is always open for you, no matter what.” At that moment, tears streamed down my face. “Then I’ll wait for you to come home.” Amelia, my stepsister, was an exceptional computer engineer who had moved abroad after graduating college. She had always taken great care of me, but after I insisted on being with Victoria, she had ruthlessly cut off contact. I hung up the phone, a bitter tide instantly surged through me. My last ten years had been wasted on a total scumbag. The day I was discharged from the hospital, Victoria returned too. It was late at night when she got home. I had just finished washing the accumulated laundry and was standing on the balcony, lost in thought. In my hand was a condom I’d found in her pocket. Victoria and Blake appeared downstairs, locked in an inseparable embrace. The sight was like a needle piercing my heart, so painful I couldn’t breathe. There was a time, not so long ago, when Victoria and I were like that, too. She was my senior in college. By my sophomore year, she was already starting her own business. Every time I returned to campus, she’d cling to me, kissing and hugging, begging me to stay just a little longer. I truly believed such intense affection would lead to a perfect ending, which was why I rejected Amelia’s plans to move abroad and chose to stay in the country, supporting Victoria’s startup. And yet, this was the devastating conclusion. The sound of a door opening echoed from behind me, followed by Victoria’s scolding. “What’s going on? Why is the house such a mess!” Victoria frowned the moment she walked in, surveying the room. She was a germaphobe. I always did the cleaning myself, meticulous about every corner, terrified she’d be uncomfortable if the cleaning lady missed something. Each time she broke out in a rash, I’d blame myself for not cleaning thoroughly enough. Now, I realize all my efforts had become her expectation, a reason to be taken for granted. Victoria’s phone vibrated incessantly in her hand, and she glanced down, smiling as she replied to messages. She nudged the suitcase at her feet with a kick, not even looking up. “Since you’re doing laundry anyway, wash the clothes in this suitcase. I can’t stay in this mess. I’m going to a hotel. Call me when you’ve cleaned everything.” Victoria put her phone away, a dismissive instruction, and turned to leave. Watching her back, I called out to stop her. “Wait.” I limped after her. Her eyes fell on my knee. “Were you actually hurt?” A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, and she frowned. “I thought you were just making it up…” I didn’t explain. I simply pressed the condom into her hand. “Take this. You’ll need it.” Victoria and I hadn’t used those in a long time. She knew exactly who would need it. 2 Victoria stared at the item in her hand, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes, immediately replaced by a blaze of fury. “This was for us, from ages ago! I just put it aside for when we started trying for a baby. I don’t know what you’re being so paranoid about!” “If you kept the house spotless, why would I need to stay in a hotel?” Victoria’s face turned crimson, her features contorted. Her furious tirade, loud and direct, was laced with an undeniable undercurrent of guilt. Before I could even say a word, she hurled the condom at me. A sharp corner of the box sliced open my forehead. I stumbled, grabbing the edge of the dining table to steady myself. “I’m not being paranoid. I just thought, if this was in your pocket, then giving it back to you…” “Enough! Don’t try to argue!” she shrieked. “You’re in your thirties! Still acting like some jealous high-school kid? So, I guess I should just hire all women from now on, and put a ‘No Men Allowed’ sign on the office door!” “I’m truly sick of you!” Victoria kicked over her suitcase, slammed the door shut, and vanished. Among the scattered luggage, I noticed a pair of black boxer briefs, not the brand I usually bought, VK. I crouched down, picking up the boxers. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. When I proposed to Victoria, I spent every penny I had on the ring. But now, that ring was long gone. Replaced by a new pair of matching rings. I’d told her back then that I dreamed of a Hawaiian honeymoon, and she went to Hawaii. Replaced by a new man. I meticulously cleaned the house, again and again. When I was exhausted, I sat down, fighting back the tears. I didn’t stop until my hands were raw and waterlogged, almost translucent. I took a paper bag and gathered all of Blake’s belongings I found from Victoria’s pockets: two pairs of boxers, a lighter, and three condoms. The next day, I brought them to Blake’s desk at work. Blake opened the bag, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alex, my bad, my memory’s terrible. I’m always misplacing things…” I forced myself to ignore the blatant provocation in his eyes. “No worries,” I said. Victoria’s company had a partner, Chloe. Chloe’s husband, David, and I handled the company’s finances. I had just settled into my desk when I saw Blake saunter into Victoria’s office. A few minutes later, he came out chuckling. Victoria must have smoothed things over again. Closer to noon, Victoria came over to ask me about a financial matter, all the while subtly studying my expression. Seeing I showed no reaction, Victoria slammed a box onto my desk. “This is a gift I brought back from Hawaii for you. I forgot to give it to you yesterday when you were throwing a tantrum.” “And for our registration, I had Blake rebook the appointment for us.” My hand, on the mouse, faltered slightly. Blake booked it. Last time, he made a spectacle of our appointment, openly provoking me. What would the next one bring? I found myself strangely anticipating it. It was a Chanel box, but the ribbon was missing. I opened it to find a pair of cufflinks, but a few of the diamonds were missing. In the past, Victoria always brought me gifts from her business trips, whether exquisite or designer. But after Blake, I only received used, cheap things that he didn’t want. “Thanks,” I mumbled, not even bothering to look up. I closed the box and tossed it into the trash can. “What do you mean by that?!” Victoria’s patience was wearing thin. I met her gaze directly. “Victoria, I’m not so desperate that I need to use someone else’s discarded hand-me-downs.” 3 Victoria’s face darkened considerably. “Fine, whatever, Alex. Just don’t come crying and begging me later.” She marched straight back into her office. Blake followed her in, not forgetting to give me a smug look before he went. Victoria and I had always kept our relationship a secret. At the company, she was my superior, and I was her subordinate. Over time, it had become an open secret. But now, Victoria and Blake’s blatant disregard for professionalism in the office made my past self look utterly ridiculous. She had made me the laughingstock of the entire company. Everyone in the office avoided looking our way, fearing they’d stumble into the awkward tension of a love triangle. Instead, they congregated in the restroom, chattering about gossip. “Oh my God, did you see Blake just went into Victoria’s office, and then she went right in after him?” “Alex is so pathetic. My friend from business school told me they were together for ten years! Who gets ten years back?!” “You guys wouldn’t believe it, Blake was throwing a tantrum today, I don’t know what about. Victoria just directly transferred him half a million to buy that new electric car!” I crouched in the restroom, tears blurring my vision. Buying rings, buying cars, buying houses—Victoria truly intended to build a life with him. I tried hard to ignore the pain in my heart, reminding myself that I had to move on. Returning home alone after work, I started packing my bags. Victoria came home a little tipsy, sitting on the sofa, waiting for me to attend to her like I used to. But this time, I didn’t move. “Alex, where’s the hangover soup?” In the past, Victoria often came home completely drunk after closing deals. Every time, I’d have a special hangover soup ready, waiting to take care of her. I’d also wash her face, help her change, so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable falling asleep. “No time to make it. There’s some hangover medicine in the cupboard. Take one yourself.” I didn’t even look up, walking directly into the bathroom to pack. She stumbled over, watching my movements, her face falling. “That’s enough, Alex. How long are you going to keep this tantrum up?” Victoria slapped my hand away, her eyes bloodshot, concealing endless fury. But I didn’t utter a word to stop her as she stormed toward the front door. I clearly saw her silhouette freeze at the entrance. In all our past arguments, I was always the one to apologize and yield. But this time, I was tired. Truly too tired to compromise. The sound of the door closing echoed, and a heavy weight lifted from my heart. I actually felt a flicker of relief. Later that night, unable to sleep, I received Amelia’s flight details for her return. “Alex, my flight’s the day after tomorrow, afternoon. Arriving in the evening.” The next second, I received a video from Blake. In the video, Victoria was completely drunk, and Blake, shirtless, was holding her. 【Alex, just so you don’t misunderstand, I specially sent you this video to prove that Victoria and I really aren’t what you think. Why don’t you come pick her up?】 Misunderstand? They were practically naked, putting on a show for me. I felt both helpless and amused. 【You can take care of her just fine.】 The next morning, I was woken by commotion outside the door. The noisy voices made me frown. I heard Blake’s sharp, high-pitched voice. “Boss, Alex isn’t still asleep, is he?! Will he be annoyed by us making noise?” I stepped out into the living room, watching Victoria and Blake walk in, laden with food and drinks. Blake casually kicked off his shoes, and Victoria, without a word, bent down to pick them up and place them neatly in the shoe rack. This sight stabbed at my eyes. She was such a germaphobe, yet now she was willing to pick up a man’s shoes. But when I was sick, she wouldn’t even change my clothes. “Alex, you’re awake! The sun’s already high, and Victoria and I have been grocery shopping all morning!” I frowned, looking at Victoria. She looked away, a little uncomfortable. “It’s Blake’s birthday today. He insisted on having your stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes.” My hands, clasped behind my back, clenched into fists. Just one more day. Just one more day. I turned and walked into the kitchen to prepare the blue crab. I didn’t like the dish, but Victoria did. So it had become my signature dish. I watched them through the glass door, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, playing It Takes Two on a Switch. I loved that game, but Victoria had never had the patience to play it with me. She always said I was childish and boring, that girls hated video games. Yet now, she was having a blast playing with Blake. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but Victoria kept glancing my way, as if expecting me to react. But I pretended not to notice. With a loud “thump” from the game, Blake seemed to have done something exciting, and he pulled Victoria into a deep kiss. I stood there, holding a large platter of food, watching Victoria being kissed. “Alex, I just got carried away with the game, sorry about that, you don’t mind, do you?” Blake asked, his hand remaining firmly on Victoria’s shoulder. “Not at all.” I shook my head, placed the last dish on the table, and untied my apron. “You two enjoy. I have something to do; I’m heading out.” Victoria looked up and asked where I was going, but I ignored her. For some reason, her face was a stormy mess.

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My beauty once dazzled Veridian City, my charm coveted by every noble. Yet the year I came of age, I deliberately seduced my brother’s dearest friend—one reckless night that changed everything. When our scandal broke, his heartbroken lover Celeste fled the capital. I became the envied Lady Finch, dwelling in the city’s grandest manor. Every time Commander Alistair returned victorious, our nights burned with passion—until his first love returned with a child. He gifted her my finest property, let the toddler call him ‘Papa,’ while I smiled in silence. He believed I’d learned obedience. Little did he know I’d struck a deal with the Emperor: in one month, I’d gain freedom through a political marriage to the Northern Tribes. 1. After Commander Alistair returned from his audience with Emperor Julian, he didn’t come to me. Instead, he walked directly to the west wing, where Celeste and her daughter resided. It wasn’t until dusk that he emerged, casting a dismissive glance towards my courtyard. I used to exhaust myself, contriving every possible way to keep him by my side for a little longer. He would always make excuses about military duties. Even when he did stay home with me, it was never for more than an hour. I had thrown tantrums, I had wept, I had screamed. But he would simply tell me to be sensible, to remember that as a wife, I shouldn’t be so spoiled and willful. But I learned to be compliant. I learned to be virtuous. I learned to be magnanimous. And yet, he brought another woman and her child into our home. It seemed my “sensibility” had merely served to pave the way for her. Late that night, I extinguished the candles, preparing for bed. A soft knock sounded at my door. Three short, two long—Alistair’s customary signal from his army days. I donned my robe and rose, surprised to see Alistair himself standing before me, his face etched with worry. Seeing his troubled expression, and recalling the muffled sobs from Celeste and Lily’s wing earlier that evening, I knew. His plea to the Emperor had not gone smoothly. Emperor Julian had always treated me like his own daughter; he would naturally oppose Alistair’s attempt to bring a mistress into the household with the status of a legitimate wife. His presence at my door now could only mean one thing: he was here to plead on their behalf, to convince me to allow them to stay. When he had first brought Celeste and Lily home, everyone in Finch Manor had expected me to dissolve into tears and furious protest, to forbid their entry. After all, I had once been so notoriously spoiled, so impetuous. I had even dared to defy Imperial decrees. But this time, it was I who had gone to the Imperial Palace to secure his decree. Alistair stood at my door for a long time before his voice, dry and hoarse, finally broke the silence. “Genevieve, Celeste and her daughter are…” I didn’t let him finish. I welcomed him inside, then handed him the Imperial decree allowing him to bring in a second woman. “Welcome them into the house,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s hardly proper for a woman and child to be without a place of their own.” Alistair’s expression was one of profound shock as he took in my impassive face. I continued, “Your military honors were earned through years of perilous campaigns, through risking your life. Don’t waste them on such trivial matters.” I smiled, a semblance of understanding on my face. Alistair stiffened, his voice tinged with surprise. “How did you… how did you convince His Majesty?” Indeed. The opportunity he couldn’t obtain even with his glorious military achievements, how had I secured it? Of course, it was by offering myself for an annulment and a diplomatic marriage, going to the Northern Tribes in place of a princess. I would dedicate the rest of my life to safeguarding the peace of Aethelgard, and I would leave Alistair Finch forever. Now, between us, all that remained was a single, sealed decree of annulment. That night, as if to compensate me, Alistair offered to stay in my chambers. I refused. The next morning, he wasted no time in demanding I relinquish control of the household finances. I agreed. But as he leafed through the ledgers and deeds, a frown creased his brow. “Are there truly this many accounts and contracts for the estate?” I nodded. “Commander, if you doubt me, you may review them all from the beginning. They were all entrusted to me by your mother, the Lady Finch.” I knew Alistair, a man of war, found matters of accounts tedious. He wouldn’t scrutinize them carefully. He certainly wouldn’t discover the official annulment decree, prepared by my own hand, hidden at the bottom of a stack of documents. Once he affixed his seal to it and it was delivered to the palace, Alistair and I would be “free to part ways, each seeking our own joy.” 2. I stood quietly, clutching a handkerchief, my heart strangely calm. “If the Commander finds these duties too overwhelming, I can help Miss Celeste share the burden.” Alistair would never agree. I knew he feared Celeste might be mistreated, and he wanted to give her only the best. Sure enough, his face hardened. Without a second glance, he pressed his signet ring onto each contract, stamping them with his family seal. “Genevieve, I want you to manage the household, but you’ve worked so hard these past few years,” he said, his voice softer. “The physician said you need proper rest if we are to have a child.” “A child.” What a noble reason. He already had a child with another woman, so why would he care about one with me? With Alistair’s sealed annulment decree safely in my possession, I went to the Imperial Palace. In less than half an hour, Empress Eleanor emerged to greet me. “The Emperor has approved the annulment. The decree will be issued in one month. You may return home.” I was stunned, almost disbelieving how smoothly everything had gone. As I prepared to leave, the Empress called me back, her voice kind, tinged with a hint of sorrow. “There’s something… I believe you should know.” “The Royal Physician investigated. The calming tea you brought last time contained a significant amount of musk. This particular kind of musk, from the Northern steppes, is odorless and colorless, but extremely potent and cold in nature. For a woman, it can very likely lead to permanent infertility.” Her words were soft, yet they rendered my mind utterly blank. Northern musk! That was the kind found only in the Commander’s border camps. And that calming tea? Alistair himself had brewed it for me. I had drunk it for three years. Three agonizing years, I had suffered over my inability to conceive. Unable to give Alistair a son or daughter. Yet Alistair had always said it didn’t matter. He had even vehemently refused when family members urged him to take concubines. He had promised me a life of “one man, one woman, forever.” Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face. So this was his sacred vow to me. This was the man I had loved for five years. Returning to Finch Manor, I realized I had left one ledger behind. Unwilling to cause any extra fuss, I went directly to Alistair’s study with it. As I entered, I saw scattered letters on his desk. “My heart burns like a candle for you, weeping tears of longing.” “Though we lack the wings of two phoenixes to fly together, our souls are perfectly attuned.” Every line, every phrase, spoke of a lover’s sweet devotion. I glanced at them coldly, then turned to leave. As I did, I accidentally knocked over a letter box on the table. Three years of marriage. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five letters. Every single day, they had been secretly exchanging affections behind my back, even on our wedding night. “One man, one woman, forever.” I murmured the words Alistair had so often spoken. I knew now. This marriage, which he had so painstakingly feigned for three years, was nothing but an illusion, a dream. Thankfully, there was only one month left until the Emperor’s decree of annulment. And Alistair Finch’s wedding day with Celeste. It was the same day. 3. Twenty days remained until the Emperor’s decree. Alistair’s returns to Finch Manor grew increasingly late. My maid, Elara, told me that Alistair had been taking Celeste to every social event in the capital—from the Princess Royal’s spring gala to the Earl’s son’s christening. He even found ways to have Celeste make an appearance at exclusive poetry readings, events strictly for gentlemen. I knew this was the fastest way for Celeste to integrate into the city’s noble circles. All it required was trampling on my reputation. After all, what respectable household brings a woman who isn’t even their wife, but a paramour, to a formal banquet? Today, I went as usual to pay my respects to Lady Finch, Alistair’s mother. As I entered, I saw Celeste clinging to Alistair’s arm, her face demurely flushed. Alistair sat beside her, his gaze filled with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. Upon seeing me, Lady Finch’s face instantly darkened. Her tone was sharp, cutting. “You have the gall to show your face here? You and Alistair have been married for five years, yet you haven’t produced an heir, nor will you allow Alistair to take another wife. If Celeste weren’t coming into the household, the Finch lineage would be ruined by your hand!” My bowing posture stiffened. I raised my head to look at Alistair, but he merely turned his head away awkwardly, not a single word in my defense. This wasn’t the first time Lady Finch had chided me about an heir, but it was the first time Alistair hadn’t spoken up for me. It was he who had prevented my pregnancy. It was he who had refused to take a concubine. I paused, silently, my heart quickly becoming devoid of sorrow or joy. “Your daughter-in-law acknowledges her fault.” Celeste spoke up, feigning concern. “Oh, Auntie, please don’t be angry. Even if Sister can’t bear children, please try to calm yourself.” Only now did I learn that Celeste was Alistair’s distant cousin. They had been childhood sweethearts in their village. Later, Alistair had gained military honors and risen through the ranks, eventually catching the eye of a Princess Royal—me. It was only after our fateful night, after our hasty marriage, that Celeste had been forced to leave him. He had never loved me. I lowered my eyes, masking the bitterness within. I took a seat as far away from them as possible. A short while later, a maidservant brought out several plates of pastries. I was about to reach for one when I heard Alistair’s furious voice. “Who made these almond shortbreads?! Drag them out and give them twenty lashes!” My hand, reaching for the pastry, froze. I instinctively looked at Alistair. For three years of our marriage, Alistair had been famous for publicly requesting at an Imperial banquet that all almond-related dishes be removed. Because I was allergic to almonds. For this, Alistair had become every woman’s ideal husband in Veridian City. I was about to intercede on the servant’s behalf when I heard him say, “All of you, listen well. Miss Celeste cannot eat anything with almonds in it. If I catch any of you forgetting again, don’t blame me for being unkind.” Those two brief sentences shattered every last fragment of my pride. Until now, even knowing that Alistair had never loved me, knowing he had tricked me into seeking the Emperor’s blessing for Celeste’s entry, knowing he was systematically withdrawing all his former favoritism towards me, I had still clung to a desperate hope. I had told myself: five years of acquaintance, three years as husband and wife, Alistair must still hold some affection for me. Even if just a sliver. But it seemed… even that last sliver of affection was a lie.

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The new CEO fired me, not knowing I was the owner’s son. “You want me out? Does my father know?” Faced with my challenge, the man claiming to be the CEO’s son scoffed, “Who the hell is your father?” “Some pathetic nobody like you? I can fire you whenever I want!” I smirked, dialling my father’s number. Two and a half seconds later, a fleet of Maybachs pulled up outside the company building. He finally panicked, dropping to his knees and begging for my forgiveness. 1 The company had just brought in a new CEO, and he promptly fired me, completely unaware of my hidden identity. Monday morning. I hurried into the office, the sound of a furious tirade already echoing from within. “Who in their right mind hired someone named Kingsley?!” The moment I stepped through the door, I saw a chaotic mess on the desk, my computer shattered on the floor. Before I could even react, a deep, resonant male voice barked, “Hold it right there!” “You’re the one, aren’t you? With that inauspicious name!” I froze, momentarily stunned, pointing incredulously at myself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. His gaze settled on my ID badge. “Alexander Kingsley?” His face immediately hardened, his voice chillingly stern. “You’re a bad omen for the company’s fortune. You’re fired!” Manager Davies, standing nearby, bowed low, his head bobbing frantically. “Mr. Sterling, please calm down, sir.” I lifted my gaze, taking in the impeccably dressed man before me. His disdain for me was palpable, undisguised. So, this was Lucas Sterling, the new CEO who had been parachuted into our company. New broom sweeps clean, they say, but I never imagined I’d be the first dust bunny swept out. And what an absurd reason for dismissal! My colleagues were equally stunned, their heads bowed, not daring to breathe. I glanced at the boot-licking Manager Davies. “Does the company even have such a policy?” After a brief, awkward silence, he cleared his throat, adjusting his tone to one of forced formality. “It’s about following upper management’s directives.” I scoffed, a soft ‘tsk’ escaping my lips. “You’re firing me? Does my father know about this?” Lucas Sterling reacted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world, a sneering, arrogant laugh bursting from him. “Who the hell is your father?” he challenged, his voice dripping with condescension. “My father is Richard Sterling, the CEO of Titan Holdings. Some pathetic worm like you? I can fire you whenever I want!” The moment the words left his mouth, the office erupted into a flurry of whispers. “No wonder he came in as CEO right away. He’s Lucas Sterling, the young master!” “Alexander Kingsley just bit off more than he could chew! Nobody can save him now.” Lucas kicked my shattered computer aside, then pointed a contemptuous finger, motioning for me to leave. I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes wide with a dawning realization. He was my father’s son? Then who was I? 2 The reason my surname is Kingsley is because my mother passed away in childbirth, and my father chose to give me her family name. But I had no idea my father had another son with the same surname as him, Sterling. I pulled out my phone, about to call my father and confirm, when Lucas’s phone rang. He immediately broke into a wide, beaming smile as he answered, putting it on speaker for everyone to hear. Clearing his throat, he chirped, “Dad.” The man on the other end spoke, his voice deep and authoritative. “Good, good. Make a strong impression today. It’s your day to assert your authority.” Lucas shot me a venomous glare, then complained into the phone, “Didn’t you say I’m in charge here? I just fired some flunky who pulled strings to get in, and now I’m being threatened.” His voice was tinged with a petulant whine, a stark contrast to the swaggering bully he’d been moments before. My father immediately adopted a stern tone, backing him up. “Who’s being so arrogant? Daring to defy the Sterling name like that! Tell him to report to HR immediately!” Lucas smirked triumphantly at me, shaking his phone. But I couldn’t believe my ears. That familiar voice, like a bolt of lightning, shattered the quiet hum of my thoughts, leaving my mind utterly blank. Could my father truly have another son? Lucas loosened his watch, then yanked the ID badge from around my neck and tossed it into the trash can. “From now on, you have no connection to Titan Holdings!” He then turned to Manager Davies. “Go revoke his access! Delete his accounts! The company will not tolerate insubordinate employees or those with a poor attitude disrupting our operations!” He wanted to assert his authority, to make an example of an insignificant employee like me. But he didn’t realize that my ability to thrive in this company, even while hiding my identity, stemmed from sheer competence. I let out a cold snort. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I warned. Manager Davies’s eyes flickered for a moment, but he quickly reverted to a cold, dismissive tone. “Of course. What if you accessed company accounts and tampered with data? The potential losses would be incalculable.” Compared to offending the CEO’s son, getting rid of a minor employee like me was clearly the more pragmatic choice. He swiftly moved to his computer, erasing my presence from the system. Lucas nodded in satisfaction. “Anyone who dares to challenge upper management’s decisions from now on will face the same consequences!” he declared, his voice laced with menace. My colleagues murmured their agreement, no one daring to look at me, terrified of inviting trouble upon themselves. I quietly gathered my few personal items. Before I left, I offered one last parting shot. “You’ll all be crying soon enough.” But Manager Davies remained stubbornly defiant. “I’m warning you, get out now! Don’t be ungrateful!” I didn’t argue further. I simply turned and walked out of the company, leaving everything behind me. For now, I had to find my father and demand a full explanation about Lucas Sterling. 3 What I hadn’t expected was that every single one of my calls to my father went straight to voicemail. A dozen attempts, all unanswered. A knot of panic tightened in my stomach. I rushed home, frantically searching the house, only to find our butler. He bowed respectfully. “Young Master, Mr. Sterling has gone abroad for a conference.” He paused, then added, “He specifically instructed that you and Young Master Lucas should get along well at the company, to foster your relationship.” A furious burst of indignation flared within me. My father truly did have another son! And on his very first day, he’d fired me, his actual son! I was seething, ready to fly out of the country the next day to demand answers. But early the next morning, Manager Davies called. The moment I answered, the shouting on the other end jolted me fully awake. “Alexander Kingsley! Get your butt back to the company, now!” It was Lucas. I paused for two seconds, then asked calmly, “Is there a problem?” Another voice came through the line. Manager Davies’s tone was significantly more polite than yesterday, but still held an air of command. “There’s an issue with the product. We need you to come back and fix it.” I almost laughed out loud from sheer exasperation. “Wasn’t I severed from Titan Holdings?” I retorted. Lucas’s voice, sharp with accusation, cut in. “You were in charge of the project! Who else are we supposed to call when something goes wrong? It’s your obligation to help the company recover its losses!” Manager Davies chimed in, equally self-righteous. “You left without even completing your handover! Mr. Sterling is already being merciful by not pursuing this further. You have one hour to get back to the office.” I let out a soft, mocking chuckle, feigning regret. “Oh, what a pity. I’d love to help Mr. Sterling ease his burden. But my accounts have been deleted. I’m afraid my hands are tied.” On the other end, Lucas completely exploded. “Don’t you dare bite the hand that feeds you!” he roared. “If you don’t come back, I’ll immediately blacklist you from the entire industry! Let’s see which company dares to hire you then!” Listening to his empty threats, I calmly delivered my reply. “You just wait, then.” With that, I hung up and promptly blocked his number. A wave of immense relief washed over me. I had expected those two to come crawling back eventually, but not so soon – not during the product testing phase. I casually opened the overflowing work group chat. Sure enough, Lucas had insisted on personally debugging the system, leading to a complete system crash. The company’s interns couldn’t fix it, so they’d turned to me. I had no obligation to clean up his mess, especially not for my supposedly illegitimate brother. My eyes darkened at the thought. Father still hadn’t called me back, but there was a new message. I opened it. He wanted me to copy some important files from his office and upload them to his email. He was flying back that afternoon and heading straight to the company for a meeting. It was still early. I decided to let Lucas flounder a little longer. A much grander show was about to begin.

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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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