The System found me again just as I was being wheeled into the emergency room, my stomach lining weeping blood. It scanned my progress bar, its mechanical voice buzzing with sudden, frantic static. [How is the progress bar dropping instead of rising?] I lay on the gurney, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping my lips. At the dinner tonight, Jackie had insisted I drink in place of his new assistant, Mandy. “She’s fresh out of college, June. She doesn’t know how to handle these corporate wolves. Drink this for her.” A double shot of pure, ninety-six percent rectified spirit—Everclear—had torn through my empty stomach like liquid fire. When I had doubled over, clutching my abdomen in agony, Jackie had only frowned, his brow pinching with mild annoyance. “Your tolerance is higher than that, June. Don’t make things difficult for the clients. Just finish the rest of Mandy’s rounds so they don’t press her.” The memory made me close my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor. “Maybe I’m just useless,” I whispered in the quiet of my mind. The System responded with absolute, cold-metal certainty. [The female lead I chose, useless? Impossible.] [This is a narrative anomaly. The male lead is corrupted.] [He’s glitched. Let me see if a few high-voltage shocks can reboot his system.] … I had just been wheeled back to the recovery ward, the heavy, numbing fog of the anesthesia still clinging to my limbs, when the heavy door was flung open. Jackie stood in the doorway, his forehead creased, his voice dripping with immediate, sharp irritation. “June, why did you slip out of the dinner without saying a word?” He strode toward the bed, not looking at me, but looking down at his phone. “Do you have any idea what happened after you left? The executives cornered Mandy. She couldn’t navigate her way out of it, had to take a drink, and now she’s in the urgent care wing next door on an IV drip.” I didn’t answer. In my head, the System was already screaming. [Oh my god, he really is broken! You’re literally lying in a hospital bed and he doesn’t even see it? No comfort, no concern, just an interrogation!] [Let’s see if a quick shock helps him focus.] Jackie suddenly let out a strangled gasp, his knees buckling slightly as he gripped the edge of the bedside table. His face paled, beads of sweat breaking out instantly along his hairline. When he finally managed to look up at me, his eyes seemed to adjust, as if the white hospital gown and the clear tube taped to the back of my hand had only just materialized. “June? You… you’re admitted?” I turned my head away, staring at the gray curtain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my gaze. His eyes drifted to the chart hanging from the foot of my bed. His expression shifted rapidly as he read the words: “Acute Gastric Bleeding.” “Bleeding?” his voice cracked. “But your ulcer hasn’t flared up in years. How could one drink do this? What did the specialist say? Is it severe…?” “Jackie,” I cut him off, my voice barely above a whisper, “do you actually know what was in that glass you made me drink for Mandy?” He blinked, silent. “It was ninety-six percent neutral grain spirit. Straight Everclear.” His jaw tightened, a defensive shield immediately sliding over his features. “That’s impossible. Mandy brought that bottle herself. She said it was just standard party vodka.” “Standard party vodka?” I let out a dry, rattling laugh that made the raw tear in my stomach throb. “How many years have I spent drinking for you at these tables, Jackie? You think I can’t tell the difference between standard alcohol and industrial solvent?” He hesitated, his eyes darting toward the door, already searching for excuses to shield her. “She probably just bought the wrong bottle. She’s young, June. She doesn’t know the difference between proofs.” “An accident.” I closed my eyes, remembering the sharp, triumphantly cold look in Mandy’s eyes when she had handed me the glass. She had leaned in close, her expensive perfume choking my senses, and whispered, “Be careful, June. This one has a real kick.” Then, she had spun around toward Jackie, her voice instantly dissolving into a soft, trembling squeak. “Jackieary, I really can’t drink… I feel so terrible making June do this for me. I’m so sorry.” It hadn’t been an accident. But I didn’t bother explaining that to him. What would be the point? Jackie wouldn’t believe me anyway. He reached out, his hand sliding over mine, his grip softening in a way that used to make my chest ache with warmth. “I’m sorry, June. I didn’t realize. If I had known, I would have never let you touch it.” He squeezed my hand, his voice dropping into that solemn, promising register he used whenever he wanted to sweep his mistakes under the rug. “Our engagement party is next week. I’ll make sure it’s perfect. The grandest, most beautiful night. Just focus on resting. Don’t worry about anything else.” The moment the words left his mouth, his phone began to ring. A specific, delicate acoustic melody cut through the sterile quiet of the room. It was an indie love song by an artist I adored, a song about a first love that survived the winter. I had once believed that ringtone belonged solely to me. Until last month, when I sat in the passenger seat of his car and heard that exact same melody chime as Mandy’s name flashed across his dashboard. When I asked him about it, he had shrugged, not looking up from the wheel. “Mandy heard it and thought it was pretty, so she set it for her contact. I’ll set a different one for you.” Jackie looked at the screen now, his thumb already swiping to accept the call. “Mandy? What’s wrong?” I couldn’t hear her voice, but I watched the transition on his face—the sudden, intense gravity, the softening of his shoulders, the quiet, protective murmur. “Don’t panic. I’m coming right now.” He hung up, looking down at me, his eyes filled with a performative guilt. “Mandy’s alone on her IV. She’s frightened. She’s my old professor’s daughter, June. She doesn’t have anyone else in this city. I can’t just leave her stranded. You understand, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “You’ve dealt with your stomach issues before, so you know the drill. I’ve already messaged the housekeeper to bring over some bone broth later. Rest up. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” The door clicked shut behind him. The System remained quiet for a long moment, processing the data. [When did he rot like this?] It sounded genuinely bewildered, its digital voice spiked with frustration. [Childhood sweethearts, shared struggles, mutual devotion… on paper, this was a guaranteed happy-ending trajectory. What happened while I was away at the central server? How did it become this disgusting?] Yes, how did we become this? There was a time when I believed our love was written into the very fabric of the universe. Years ago, when my health had deteriorated to the point where the hospital issued three consecutive critical condition notices, Jackie—a man who lived by logic and numbers—had walked up the steep, jagged stone steps of a mountain monastery in the dead of winter. He had knelt and bowed his head to the frozen earth at every single step, his forehead bleeding into the snow, praying for a miracle. And perhaps the universe had listened. Shortly after that, my illness began to recede. That was when the System first appeared in my consciousness. [Hello, Host! I’m a rookie system. This setup—the fragile, devoted heroine and the loyal, protective childhood friend—has the highest success rate in the database. I took this contract specifically to guarantee you a happy ending! Once his affection bar is completely full, you’ll receive permanent health and a beautiful life together.] The System had watched our love bar hit ninety-nine percent, declared me its most successful project, and returned to the mainframe to petition for my permanent rewards. It was gone for three years. And those three years were the best of my life. My health stabilized, his company grew from a cramped, two-room startup into a multi-million-dollar enterprise, and we naturally moved toward a shared future. Everyone in our circle called us the golden couple. I thought the story had reached its natural, quiet happily-ever-after. Until his company faced a hostile takeover. I began joining him at dinners, drinking to the point of nausea to secure investments, staying up until dawn revising his pitch decks. He began forgetting my birthdays, his mind consumed by the pressure. I comforted myself—and him. “It’s fine. Once the company goes public, we can breathe.” But on the morning of the IPO, when the bell rang on the exchange floor, the woman standing beside him, her hand tucked possessively into his elbow, was Mandy. Later, he told me she was there on behalf of her father, whose late-stage funding had saved the firm. “June, I know how much you’ve sacrificed,” he had said, brushing a stray hair from my face. “But we don’t need to perform our love for the cameras. You know what we have.” But from that day on, the boundaries began to dissolve. He still couldn’t remember my birthday, but he memorized Mandy’s allergy list. He would go three days without replying to my texts, citing back-to-back board meetings, but he managed to take her to the botanical gardens because she had mentioned feeling stressed. He refused to post photos of us on his public profiles, claiming it was unprofessional, yet his feed was filled with snapshots of her, captioned under the guise of “showing his mentor that she was being cared for.” I had wept. I had screamed. I had lost my dignity in quiet, midnight arguments. At first, he had held me, promising it was just professional obligation. But soon, his patience ran dry. “June, stop being so paranoid. Your parents are still in that private care facility, and those monthly bills aren’t small. Are you really going to throw everything we have away over a little jealousy? Who is going to cover those costs if you leave? Where else are you going to find a life like this?” I had survived in that silent, suffocating trap, watching the man who once bled for me give every ounce of his warmth to someone else. And then came the glass of Everclear. I lay in the hospital bed, the silence of the room pressing down on my chest. “I want to opt-out,” I told the System. “Delete me, or let me fade. I don’t care anymore.” [The female lead I selected, fading? Not on my watch.] [This is a mechanical failure on the male lead’s part. He’s defective.] [Give me a little time. I’ll find a way to dismantle him that doesn’t involve just frying his brain.] The System fell silent, but its words left a small, cold coal of resolve burning in my chest. At least I wasn’t going to die. For the past year, as Jackie’s attention drifted further away, I had quietly started preparing. I had saved money from my consulting work, setting aside enough to cover my parents’ care facility for the next six months and secure a small apartment of my own. The next morning, I checked myself out of the hospital, took a cab back to the villa, and prepared to pack my things. But when I opened the front door, I froze on the threshold. In the span of four days, the house had been stripped of its soul. The warm, honey-toned walls I had carefully selected were painted a cold, clinical gray. The colorful knit throws, the collection of small ceramic mugs we’d bought on trips, the plush velvet cushions—all of it was gone, replaced by minimalist, dark-gray decor. It was no longer a home. It was a showroom. Mandy rose from the deep leather sofa, wearing my silk pajamas—the ivory set with the delicate lace trim I had bought last year, the ones Jackie had laughed at, calling them too childish for his taste. Jackie rose right behind her, wearing the matching navy set. The set he had refused to touch. “June? You’re home?” Mandy walked toward me, her posture relaxed, carrying herself with the soft authority of a lady of the house. “Why didn’t you let Jackie know? He would have picked you up.” I swallowed the sudden, sharp metallic taste in my mouth, ignored her entirely, and walked toward the master bedroom. Jackie’s hand shot out, catching my wrist. “June, what is this? Why did you discharge yourself without telling me? Are you even recovered?” His touch felt cold, almost greasy against my skin. I pulled my arm back with a sharp jerk. “I have plenty of experience taking care of myself, Jackie. I didn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule.” “June, don’t do this,” he sighed, his voice dropping into that familiar, exhausted whine. “Mandy’s apartment had a plumbing leak, and she was terrified of staying in a hotel alone while she was sick. I let her stay here for a couple of days. I didn’t want to stress you out while you were in the clinic, so I planned to have her move back before you got out. I was trying to protect you.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me,” I said, my voice dead and flat as I reached for the bedroom door. “June, please don’t be cross with Jackie,” Mandy said, stepping up and lightly taking his arm, her fingers resting against his sleeve. “He only kept it from you because he cares. I’m just occupying the space for a little bit. And… well, I noticed the old decor was looking a bit dated. Since my degree is in design, I thought I’d give the living space a little face-lift. It looks much cleaner now, doesn’t it? I hope you’re not upset.” “Dated.” Every single piece of furniture, every frame on the wall, every rug had been selected by Jackie and me during the years we had nothing but a dream. This house was the physical manifestation of our survival. And he had let her throw it into a dumpster in a weekend. I took a slow, deep breath, forcing the trembling in my hands to stop. “Live here as long as you want. Change whatever you want. I don’t care.” “June!” Jackie’s voice cracked with sharp reprimand. “Stop with the passive-aggressive attitude. She was only trying to help.” “Passive-aggressive?” I turned to face him, my eyes steady. “If my indifference sounds like an attitude to you, Jackie, maybe it’s because your own conscience is keeping you awake.” I turned the brass knob of the master bedroom and pushed the door open. A thick, cloying wall of fragrance hit me instantly. Lilies. I am severely allergic to lily pollen. The heavy, sweet scent instantly locked my throat, my lungs seizing as my airway began to restrict. I slammed the door shut, stumbled back against the wall, and began to cough violently, my ribs aching as I struggled to draw breath. Jackie looked at me, a brief flash of discomfort crossing his face before it was replaced by irritation. “The mattress in the guest room was too firm for Mandy’s back, so I let her use the master bedroom. She’s been having terrible nightmares, and she finds the scent of fresh lilies soothing. I was going to have them removed before you came home, but you just showed up without warning…” He was blaming me for my own allergy. I stopped coughing, leaning against the cool wall, looking at him. His eyes, his hair, his mouth—they were the exact same features of the boy who had wept on the stone steps of a temple, swearing to the heavens that he would protect me from the world. But that boy was dead. The man standing in front of me was a hollow, rotting imitation. The last thread of my devotion snapped in the scent of those white flowers. “Jackie,” I said, my voice quiet, “we’re—” Before the word “done” could leave my mouth, Jackie let out a sharp, guttural groan. He doubled over, his hands slamming against his temples as his face drained of all color. The veins in his neck bulged, turning a dark, bruised purple as he fell to his knees on the carpet, panting in agony. “Jackie!” Mandy screamed, reaching down to grab his shoulders, but the moment her fingers brushed his shirt, he violently recoiled, screaming in pain. In the center of my mind, the System’s voice chimed, bright and clear. [This imposter really thought he could play the lead.] [I signed up for pure romance, not this trash. If he won’t look at you, he doesn’t need to look at anything else.]
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