During Freshman Orientation Camp, the so-called “Campus King” tried to show off by opening a water bottle with his abs. He failed. My best friend happened to whisper a joke in my ear right at that moment, and I snorted out loud. The King’s sidekick thought I was mocking him and called me out. “What’s so funny? Put up or shut up.” So, I stood up, lifted my shirt to reveal a shredded six-pack, and popped the cap off a Dasani bottle using nothing but my core muscles. The girls screamed. The sidekick looked terrified. “Dude,” the sidekick whispered, “your nose is bleeding.” 1 During the break, my bestie, Chloe, dragged me under the shade of a massive oak tree. She shook a can of sunscreen spray like a bartender mixing a martini and unleashed a chemical fog on me. I swatted her hand away. “Chloe, stop. Save it for yourself. I’m a track athlete; I’m supposed to be tan.” Chloe smacked my hand back. “No way. I can’t let a goddess like you ruin her skin. Even if you don’t burn, we are not taking chances. I became your bestie for the eye candy, okay?” I rolled my eyes and let her marinate me in SPF 50. Nearby, a gaggle of girls from our dorm were whispering. They thought they were being subtle. They weren’t. “Omigod, Mason is so hot.” “I heard he was practically running his high school. A total alpha. See that skinny guy next to him? That’s his hype man, Leo.” “Look at those pecs. That waistline. I always thought these orientation uniforms looked like trash bags, but on him? With that tactical belt? It’s giving top gun energy.” Is he really that great? They were staring directly behind me. I was about to turn around when the Drill Instructor (DI) walked over, grinning like a shark. “You ladies and gentlemen bored?” “Yeeees,” the crowd groaned. DI Miller smirked. “Oh? How about we play a game?” A crisp, clear voice rang out from behind me. It sounded warm, like sun-baked pavement, but with a hint of arrogance. “Sarge, if your ‘game’ involves more burpees, we’re suddenly extremely entertained by sitting still.” A scrawny voice chimed in, “Yeah, we’re actually having a blast.” “Too late,” Miller snapped into authority mode. “You said you were bored. Form a circle. Sit down. We’re doing a talent showcase.” “Ughhhhh.” “I’m counting to three. Anyone not seated runs laps. One—” The shuffling was instant. Everyone hit the dirt. 2 I dragged Chloe to the back row and watched Miller. Miller was young, probably Gen Z like us. He was chill until he wasn’t. He definitely saw some TikTok trend and wanted to use us as lab rats. We sat there, blinking at him like baby birds. “Any volunteers? Show us a talent.” Silence. Miller put on his best disappointed-dad face. “Nothing? I thought Gen Z could do anything. Climb Everest, code an app, survive the apocalypse. I am disappointed.” The clear voice spoke up again. “Sarge, you’re Gen Z too. Can you do all that?” The skinny guy: “Yeah, exactly.” Miller adjusted his hat. “Nope. That’s why I’m disappointed in myself. And doubly disappointed in you.” I turned my head. The voice belonged to a guy with a buzz cut, sharp jawline, and high nose bridge. Mason. He was undeniably handsome. He was already bantering with the instructor, flashing a set of deep dimples. Chloe nudged me hard in the ribs. “Ooh, checking out Mason? The Campus King?” “That’s Mason?” I asked. Chloe looked scandalized. “Girl, are you blind? I spotted him day one. He’s the hottest guy on campus. How did you miss that?” I pulled her arm off me. “Probably because on day one, someone sprained her ankle, and I had to carry two sets of textbooks and piggyback you up six flights of stairs.” Chloe giggled guiltily. “Hey, you’re strong! I love you, Sloane!” I ignored her. Chloe, sensing danger, started cracking jokes to get back on my good side. As students started performing random talents in the circle, Chloe dropped a punchline that caught me off guard. I snorted. Loudly. The skinny guy, Leo, glared at me. “What are you laughing at? You think you’re tough? If you’re so cool, you do it.” Me: ? I looked up. Mason was standing in the center, shirt lifted, holding an unopened water bottle against his abs. There was a red mark on his skin. He had failed the trick. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with embarrassment. I looked away. Leo wasn’t letting it go. “Why aren’t you talking? Blah blah blah…” He was annoying. “Shut up,” I snapped. “I’ll do it.” 3 I walked up to Mason, took the water bottle from his hand, and turned to face the crowd. Without hesitation, I unzipped my jacket and lifted my olive-green tee. My abs were rock hard, defined, and tanned. I jammed the bottle cap against my oblique, twisted my core, and—Pop! The cap sent flying. Water splashed onto my camo pants. I didn’t care. I handed the bottle back to Mason and turned to leave. Leo’s jaw was on the floor. He looked like his brain had short-circuited. Mason stared at me, his pupils shaking. I scoffed. I was wearing a sports bra. No big deal. The crowd was stunned for two seconds before erupting. The girls were screaming louder than the guys. “Holy crap! I’m dead! Marry me!” “She’s ripped! She’s gorgeous and handsome at the same time!” “Ma’am! Gender is a construct, I am free this Friday!” DI Miller: “Whoa, keep it down! Don’t let the Commander hear you thirsting!” As I sat down, girls swarmed me. Chloe threw herself in front of me like a bodyguard. One girl asked shyly, “Hi, can we be friends?” Chloe barked, “No! You don’t want to be friends; you just want to touch her abs! Back off!” I recognized the girl. She was the one drooling over Mason earlier. The girl blushed. “Is it that obvious?” Chloe: “Yes! Sloane’s body is for my eyes only! I’m the only one allowed to touch the abs!” To prove her point, she reached under my jacket and slapped my stomach. My skin turned red. The girl’s eyes turned red with envy. Me: “…Stop it. Sit down.” “Okay.” Chloe sat. Just as I was about to scold her, I heard Leo scream in terror. “Holy sh*t, Mason! Your nose is bleeding!” Mason: “…Shut up.” 4 The downside of showing off is that the instructor remembers your name. Miller asked me if I had anything prepared for the Campfire Gala. He said, “This is a competition between the four platoons. We need to dominate. We need shock and awe.” I said, “I don’t know what kind of performance counts as ‘shock and awe.’” Miller waved his hand. “Just sing two songs. Then, for the grand finale, do the ab bottle opener thing. The guys in Platoon 3 will lose their minds when they see I have a student who can do that.” Me: “…Pass.” Miller gave me the sad puppy eyes. Me: “…Fine. Fine.” Miller: Happy noises. That night, I brought my guitar case to the field. Sixteen squads formed a massive circle. The Performing Arts squad did a choral rendition of “We Will Rock You” and a K-Pop dance cover. When a group of long-legged dancers made those baggy uniforms look like high fashion, the instructor of Platoon 3 was grinning so hard I thought his face would crack. He even came over to taunt us. “Hey Miller, your squad is looking a little low energy. You guys gotta step it up. My squad just… naturally excels.” Miller rolled his eyes. “Get lost.” He turned to me, handing me a water bottle. “Sloane, it’s all on you. Don’t let that guy win.” I nodded. “Got it.” The K-Pop dance ended, and the crowd started chanting for our squad. I was about to stand up when Mason walked past me. He snatched the water bottle out of my hand. He muttered, “Making a girl do the ab trick in front of everyone? Do us guys have no shame? What if… what if you have a wardrobe malfunction?” Me: “?” Mason walked to the center, put the water bottle on the ground, glanced at me, and nodded at Miller to hit the music. He started with a breakdance routine. The flashlights from the phones created a halo around him. He moved like water—sharp, fluid, mesmerizing. He was genuinely talented. The crowd went wild. Even Miller nodded. “Kid’s got moves.” We all thought that was it. But when Mason locked eyes with me, I knew he was up to something. Was he going to redeem his failed bottle trick? I underestimated him. The music switched abruptly. It wasn’t cool hip-hop anymore. It was… “Baby Shark” remix? No, something weirder. A viral TikTok meme song. Mason started twerking. He threw away all dignity. He shook his hips with a flexibility that put the K-Pop girls to shame. Me: “…” The Crowd: “HAHAHAHAHA!” Miller: “I take it back. That kid is a clown.” Finally, Mason grabbed the water bottle, successfully popped the cap with his abs (redemption!), and walked off to thunderous applause. He beamed at Miller. “Sarge, was that ‘shock and awe’ enough for you?” Miller: “It was shocking, alright. My colleagues are going to roast me for a year.” 5 Thanks to Mason warming up the crowd, the atmosphere was electric. I grabbed a fresh water bottle, slung my guitar over my shoulder, and walked to the center. I promised to open a bottle. Chloe ran over to set up the mic stand. The crowd was buzzing, but when I plugged the acoustic-electric in, the feedback hum silenced them. Then the whispers started. “She’s my new goddess.” “She has that ‘I could kill you but I won’t’ vibe.” “Is it true girls in Squad 1 have to bench press their body weight to join?” Someone shouted, “Hey Miller! Is having abs a requirement for your squad?” Miller beamed. “No, no. Sloane is just… standard. You know.” I tuned them out. Chloe ran back to her seat, holding her phone up to record. Strum. Just one chord, and the atmosphere shifted from “party” to “battlefield.” I didn’t play a pop song. I played a flamenco-metal fusion piece. Fast, aggressive, percussive. It sounded like arrows flying and swords clashing. “Whoa,” someone whispered. “I have goosebumps.”

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I was the Boss’s daughter—the “Mob Princess,” if you want to be dramatic. My father adopted ten sons to protect me. When I turned eighteen, Dad told me to choose one of them to be my husband. Without hesitation, I chose the one I had secretly loved for years: the eldest, Julian. After we married, I was kidnapped by a rival gang. They drove iron chains through my shoulder blades and chained me in a water dungeon. With my last ounce of strength, I called Julian, begging for help. His cold laugh echoed through the phone. “Chloe, stop the act. The GPS tracker says you’re still in the villa.” “Just because you don’t want me spending time with Mia, you came up with this cheap trick?” I listened to his cruel voice as the water rose past my mouth and nose. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day my father told me to choose a husband. … Staring at the ten photos laid out in front of me, I realized I had been reborn. This time, my finger moved past Julian without a pause. I pointed directly at the photo at the very end of the line. The tenth son. Kieran. My father blinked, surprised. “I thought you always liked Julian? Why did you pick number ten?” I shook my head, not saying a word. In my mind, I replayed the moment from my past life when Kieran rushed to find my body, the panic etched on his face. And that final, desperate roar of grief. Thankfully, Dad didn’t press. He just nodded in agreement. Leaving Dad’s study, I walked into the villa’s courtyard. Suddenly, Mia appeared and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Miss Chloe, please, I beg you. Let me have Julian.” “You have everything. I only have him. Please, just let him go.” I froze. This scene… it was different from my past life. Was Mia reborn too? Before I could process it, Julian stormed in. seeing Mia on the ground, his eyes instantly went bloodshot with rage. He scooped Mia up into his arms and glared at me with pure hatred. “Chloe! When will you stop hurting Mia?” “Just because she’s the housekeeper’s daughter, you think you can bully her like this?” My heart seized with a phantom pain. Past life, current life—it didn’t matter. Julian never believed me. “Let me tell you something,” Julian spat. “Even if you choose me, I won’t go along with it. Don’t even dream about it!” My chest felt cold, like I had been plunged into ice water. Memories of my death flashed before my eyes. In my past life, I knew Julian wouldn’t choose me, so I let go. I let them be together. But the dull ache in my heart remained. Before I could speak, a black van screeched into the courtyard. Before anyone could react, masked men jumped out and opened fire. Julian reacted instantly. Years of training kicked in. He sprinted towards me. But then, Mia groaned in pain. She collapsed, clutching her leg. She’d been hit. Julian hesitated for a split second. Then, without looking back, he dove towards Mia, shielding her with his body. I watched, my blood turning to ice. A gunman aimed directly at me. Suddenly, a figure blurred in front of me, tackling me to the ground and covering me. Gunshots rang out. When the chaos settled, I opened my eyes. The person shielding me was Kieran. Seeing they had missed their target, the hitmen retreated and sped off. Kieran stood up, radiating a terrifying chill. He glared at Julian. “Did you forget your mission? Did you forget why you’re here?” “What if something happened to Miss Chloe?” Julian’s eyes darted away guiltily, but he quickly replaced the shame with self-righteousness. “Mia was already hurt! Who else was going to help her?” “Besides, Chloe is fine, isn’t she? What’s the big deal?” Chapter 2 Kieran sneered. “So you can just ignore Miss Chloe? You care so much about that woman, you forgot why Dad adopted us in the first place!” Julian looked defensive, realizing he was in the wrong. Just then, Mia whimpered in his arms. “Julian… it hurts!” Julian’s face tightened with concern. He lifted her up. “Look, Chloe is fine. What’s the problem? I need to get Mia to a doctor. We can talk later!” Without waiting for a response, Julian turned and carried Mia away. Kieran watched them go, his expression icy. When he turned to me, his eyes burned with frustration and anger. “That’s the man you chose? He won’t even protect you when it matters!” I shook my head. He didn’t know yet. “I didn’t choose him.” Kieran looked skeptical. “Who else would you pick?” He snapped at me, something he rarely did. “Fine. Pick whoever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you regret it.” I watched his angry back as he stormed off and couldn’t help but chuckle. I wondered what his face would look like when he found out he was the one I chose. A few days later, Julian showed up at my door. He looked haggard. Before I could speak, he fell to his knees. “Please. Give me the Life-Saving Pill. Mia is in bad shape.” I stared at him in disbelief. He knew exactly what that pill meant to me. My mother was from a lineage of traditional Chinese medicine doctors. When she was dying of cancer, she used her last remaining strength to craft that single pill. She made it to save my life one day, fearing the enemies my father made would come for me. Julian gritted his teeth. “I’ll marry you. Just give the pill to Mia!” “If it wasn’t for you, Mia wouldn’t be suffering like this!” I shook my head, feeling weak. He felt like a stranger. He blamed everything on me. Julian stayed on his knees. “If you give me the medicine, I will obey Father and marry you. I’ll send Mia away to a safe place and never see her again.” I laughed abruptly. “No need. Because I didn’t choose you.” Julian froze. His eyes flickered with disbelief. “Chloe, stop lying. I’ve accepted my fate. Just give the medicine to Mia!” I turned to my safe, took out the pill I had treasured for years, and threw it at him. “Get out. From today on, we have nothing to do with each other!” Past life or this life—we were done! Julian looked at me with surprise, but said nothing. He grabbed the pill and rushed out. I slumped onto the floor, feeling a chill in my bones. I felt sorry for my past self. I died for him, and I never saw his true face. For the next few days, Julian stayed by Mia’s side as she recovered. Then came the family dinner. My father sat at the head of the table. “Chloe’s 18th birthday gala is in a few days. That night, I will announce her future husband.” The ten adopted sons had different reactions. Kieran downed glass after glass of wine, looking miserable. Julian looked just as pained, his eyes darting towards Mia’s room. The other eight sons smiled and congratulated Julian. “Congrats, Big Brother. You’re really going to be family now.” “Take care of Chloe, Boss.” My father smiled faintly at their chatter but said nothing. Everyone took his silence as confirmation. Everyone thought Julian was the chosen one. Chapter 3 That night, Mia disappeared. Julian burst into my room in the middle of the night, eyes red, grabbing me by the throat. “Where is she? Where did you take Mia?” “I agreed to marry you! Why did you still hurt her?” “She’s afraid of the dark! What if she’s alone?” I gasped for air, pushing him away. “Are you crazy? What does her disappearance have to do with me?” Julian’s face was livid. “Who else would it be?” “You’re jealous! You’re afraid I’ll change my mind, so you had someone take her, didn’t you?” “Please, bring her back. She’s still recovering. Once we’re married, I’ll send her away!” I shoved him hard. “Julian! I didn’t choose you! Be with whoever you want!” “I have nothing to do with Mia’s disappearance! Believe it or not!” “If you keep acting crazy in my room, I’m calling Dad!” The threat worked. Julian backed off, terrified of my father finding out. He turned and ran out to keep searching. The next morning, Julian carried Mia back. She was shivering, looking like she had been through hell. He marched up to me, face dark. “Chloe, if you have a problem, come at me. Why do you always target Mia?” “If you keep doing this, I swear I won’t marry you!” He walked away with her, not looking back once. I sneered at his back. To think I died for a man this blind. That night, Mia came to my room. She looked at me with pure venom. “You were reborn too, weren’t you?” Under the dim light, her face twisted with jealousy. “Why do you get everything?” she shrieked. “You’re the Princess. Born with a silver spoon. You have everything.” “I’m just the housekeeper’s daughter. I have nothing.” “The only thing I have is Julian’s love.” Tears streamed down her face. “Why do you have to take that too? Chloe, aren’t you greedy enough?” “If it wasn’t for you, why would Julian change his mind?” “Just now, he told me he was sending me abroad!” She grabbed my arm, her eyes wild. “I won’t give up!” Suddenly, she yanked me toward the balcony railing. She pulled me over the edge with her. We fell from the second floor. I hit the ground hard. Pain exploded in my body. Mia groaned beside me. My father’s sons rushed out. Seeing the scene, Julian lost it. He slapped me across the face. Then, the others tackled him to the ground. He roared at me, eyes bloodshot. “Chloe! What is wrong with you?” “What did Mia ever do to you? Why do you torture her?” I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at him silently. The others covered his mouth. “Shut up, Boss! If Dad sees this, you’re dead!” Chapter 4 “Boss, go hide out for a bit. Come back for the Gala. Cool off!” They put Julian and Mia in a car and sent them away. On the day of my 18th birthday Gala, the hall was packed with Dad’s associates. I scanned the room. No Kieran. He had to be here. I pulled out my phone and called him. “Where are you?” He chuckled bitterly on the other end. “What? You need me to watch Dad announce your engagement to Julian?” “Chloe… you’re cruel.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I want you here.” “Are you coming or not?” Silence. “Fine. I’m coming.” Just then, a commotion at the entrance. Julian walked in, holding Mia close. The guests whispered, eyes darting between the three of us. I felt their pity. The poor, abandoned princess. My second eldest brother rushed over, frowning. “Boss, what are you doing? Dad is about to make the announcement. Get away from her!” Julian sneered. He pulled Mia tighter. “Announcement?” he scoffed, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m here to tell Dad that I don’t love Chloe!” He looked at me with disgust. “I will never marry her!” The room gasped. Dad’s smile vanished. His gaze turned icy. Julian continued, voice booming. “After the announcement, I’m cutting ties with the Family!” The brothers panicked, trying to calm him down. But Julian was stone-faced. “Stop it. I won’t marry a woman I don’t love. I’d rather die!” Mia clung to him, shooting me a triumphant look. See? I won. I laughed coldly inside. Julian, you really never disappoint. Just before the ceremony began, Kieran finally arrived. He looked drunk, but his eyes were sharp. My father walked onto the stage. “Thank you all for coming. Today, I have an important announcement regarding my daughter’s marriage.” “When I retire, the Family business will be managed jointly by my daughter Chloe and my tenth son, Kieran. Kieran will also be Chloe’s husband!” Silence. No one expected Kieran. After a long beat, Julian’s voice rang out. “What?”

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I was just about to confess my feelings to my online crush in person when floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. It looked like a live stream chat. [This side chick needs to give it a rest. The Male Lead is avoiding her like the plague. He’s mortified he spent all that time chatting with the wrong girl.] [It’s totally the side chick’s fault for using a profile pic that looks just like the Female Lead’s. No wonder Xavier got confused.] [Ugh, thinking about how the Male Lead poured his heart out to her after losing that game makes me sick. All those deep convos were meant for our girl, not this extra.] [Tell me about it. Xavier is disgusted, and our baby girl, the Female Lead, is bummed out too. She just added him yesterday!] [This side chick is toxic.] I stood there, frozen, staring at the floating words, when Xavier walked right into my line of sight. He’d just finished a basketball game. When he saw me, his eyes darted away. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. I sidestepped him and shoved my love letter into his roommate’s hands instead. Online crush? Please. I have, like, five of them. Those “goodnight” voice memos? I send those out on a mass broadcast list. 1 Seeing the floating comments really threw me for a loop. Standing outside the basketball court, watching the text scroll by, I started to piece things together. According to these comments, I’m just a cannon fodder side character in some cheesy college romance novel. And my online crush, Xavier, is the Male Lead. I looked down at the pink envelope in my hand and it clicked. No wonder his replies had been slow and dry lately. He sounded annoyed in every text. Turns out, he thought I was the Female Lead, Lily, this whole time. That’s why he added me, why he flirted with me, why he caught feelings over our “good morning” and “goodnight” texts. Now that he knows the truth, he’s avoiding me like I have a contagious disease. He probably thinks I’m the villain blocking his true love. A cheer erupted from the court. I looked up. Xavier was walking toward me. He was wearing a blue jersey, white headband, looking like every college girl’s dream. He took a water bottle from a teammate and took a swig, sweat glistening. He was the Main Character, alright. He literally sparkled. He looked up, saw me, and froze. Then he stiffly looked away and started talking to his teammate, pretending I didn’t exist. I sighed. The comments were right. [If I were the side chick, I’d run away. Why embarrass yourself?] [Exactly. The Male Lead and Female Lead are destined. Why is she trying to butt in? So desperate.] [Look, he won’t even look at her.] Xavier really wasn’t looking at me. He was glued to his phone, smiling at a text. Probably from the “real” Female Lead, Lily. As he was about to walk past me, I reached out and lightly grabbed his wrist. He looked shocked. I smiled. “You’re Xavier, right?” The comments went wild. Everyone was roasting me. I ignored them and stared straight at him. “Is Kai your roommate?” “Do you know where he is?” Xavier blinked. “Why are you looking for Kai?” I waved the letter in my hand. “I have something for him.” 2 Xavier didn’t speak, but his nosy teammate leaned in. “Kai? You’re looking for Kai? He’s at the tennis courts next door.” “Thanks,” I said, letting go of Xavier’s wrist. I turned and marched toward the tennis courts, letter in hand. Behind me, the whispers started. They weren’t exactly whispering. I could hear every word. “Holy crap, she likes Kai? That dude is creepy.” “Yeah, Kai gives off serial killer vibes. Why would a girl like him?” “He’s pretty, though. Different from Xavier. Kai is beautiful. Some girls are into that dark, mysterious look.” “Hey, Xavier, why are you so quiet?” “Xavier? Where are you going? Aren’t we getting food?” Rapid footsteps approached from behind. Xavier blocked my path. “Xavier? Something else?” I asked. He frowned at me, then at the letter. He seemed to realize what he was doing and awkwardly scratched his head. “It’s just… my roommate has a weird temper. You don’t know him. If you just walk up to him, he might get mad. How about I give it to him for you?” The comments exploded. [What is this? Is the side chick playing hard to get?] [Scared me for a second. I thought the Male Lead actually liked this plain girl. Turns out he’s just being nice.] [To be fair, when Xavier lost that game, her comfort really helped him. I’d have caught feelings too if I were him.] I paused, reading the text. They were talking about a basketball game last fall. It was important to Xavier, but he choked in the final quarter. They lost. His teammates tried to comfort him, but he could feel their disappointment. He hid away from everyone. I sent him tons of messages, but he ignored them all. Finally, I recorded a voice memo of me singing a song, deliberately off-key. He finally replied: “Stop singing. You’re killing me.” His voice was tired but held a hint of a smile. I stayed up all night texting him until he felt better. [She stole the Female Lead’s plotline! Xavier can’t like her. He’s Lily-sexual only.] [Exactly. He fell for Lily at first sight. He only added the side chick by mistake.] Right. That makes sense. I shook my head at Xavier. “No thanks. I know Kai pretty well.” Xavier froze. “How?” I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Actually, I’ve known him online for three years. We just haven’t met in person.” I acted shy. “We’re graduating soon, so I thought I’d confess offline. Give myself a shot.” [What? Did the side chick mistake Kai for someone too?] [Good. Let her chase the creepy villain. Stay away from our Xavier.] [But Xavier looks kinda upset…] Xavier stood there, frowning, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I looked past him and smiled. “There he is! Xavier, talk later!” “Wait! Could you be mistaken?” Xavier blurted out. I stopped. “Mistaken about what?” He gritted his teeth. “You said you haven’t met. How are you sure that’s the guy you’ve been talking to?” I laughed. “If it’s not him, could it be you?” Xavier denied it instantly. “Not me.” I stared at him for a second. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. “So, Xavier, don’t worry about it,” I said, dodging past him and running toward the crowd leaving the tennis courts. Xavier raised his hand to stop me, but let it drop. 3 Kai stood out. He was 6’2″, walking at the back of the group. His hair was long, tied back in a messy bun. His bangs were damp with sweat. He raked a hand through them, revealing sharp, stunning features. But his eyes were cold. “Don’t come near me” cold. Nobody walked with him except during practice. I weaved through the sweaty giants and stopped right in front of him. He almost ran into me. He looked down, surprised. “What do you want?” I shoved the letter into his hand. “Just wanted to confess.” Kai looked at the crumpled pink envelope in his palm, then back at me. … I wasn’t technically lying to Xavier. I did know Kai. Or at least, I thought I did. I have a problem. I have too much empathy. I want to give every sad boy a home. So, Xavier wasn’t my only pen pal. Xavier needed the most validation. He whined about losing games and begged me to sing him to sleep. Kai was the opposite. He was an ice block. I’d send ten messages, and he’d reply to one. But I didn’t care. He was hot. I looked him in the eye. “Hi, I’m Jane from the Statistics department. Kai, you don’t have to accept my confession, but let’s at least meet properly.” Kai ignored me, shouldered his racket bag, and walked away. I didn’t mind. I happily headed to the cafeteria. On the way, my phone pinged. It was one of my other chat buddies, “SaltySnack.” [Jane, didn’t your therapist say you should get a boyfriend to help with your excessive emotional attachment? How’s that going?] I typed back: [Had a target, but I decided to switch.] [What about you? You said you added your crush. How’s that going?] SaltySnack replied: [Meh. Now that we’re talking, I don’t feel like chatting with him. It’s not as fun as talking to you.] Suddenly, the floating text in the air went crazy. [Wait, why are the Side Chick and the Female Lead friends?!] [Is Xavier just another fish in Jane’s pond?] [Lily, baby, what are you doing! Xavier is waiting for your text, why are you talking to the side chick?!] [Jane, turn around! The creepy guy is following you!] [This plot is a mess.] I texted SaltySnack back while watching the comments. So the comments were useful after all. SaltySnack is Lily, the Female Lead. And Kai is following me! I whipped around. Kai froze. He was ten meters away. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. He walked past me expressionlessly, like nothing happened. That level of chill… he’s not normal. I marveled at him and went to get food. That night, I was exhausted. I said goodnight to all my chat buddies. When I got to Xavier’s chat, I paused. Oh, right. He’s off the list. Just as I was about to exit, the “Typing…” indicator appeared at the top of the screen. It flashed for a while, but nothing came through. I was too tired to care. I turned off my phone and slept. 4 I was serious about finding a boyfriend. The next day, I went to find Kai right after class. I was too early; the courts were empty. I wandered around for a bit. When I came back, people were arguing. “Coach, the ball machine was broken when I got here. It looks intentional!” “Who left last yesterday?” “Kai. He came back after dinner and stayed until closing.” “Check the cameras?” “Cameras are broken. Haven’t been fixed yet.” Kai walked up in the middle of this. Everyone stared at him. The coach frowned. “Kai, did you break the machine?” Kai looked at him. “No.” His indifference annoyed the coach. “Just admit it if you did it. It’s not a huge deal.” The students whispered. “Definitely him.” “He won’t admit it because he doesn’t want to pay.” “What a jerk.” The comments were suspicious of him too. [He’s not the MC for a reason. Dude has moral issues.] [Look at his eyes. Scary.] Kai’s expression darkened. He looked at someone in the crowd, paused, then pulled out his phone. He played a video for the coach. It showed an empty court. In the corner, a figure was violently kicking the ball machine. The scene flashed by, then the camera flipped to a girl’s face. “Hey Kai! You’re not here yet? I’ve been waiting forever…” My voice. My face. Everyone turned to look at me standing in the back. Even my thick skin burned a little. “Haha… sorry. Just a random vlog.” But my video cleared Kai’s name. The coach walked over. “Student, did you see who broke the equipment?” I pointed at a guy in the crowd. “Him.” I hadn’t remembered until Kai played the video. “It was him.” The guy exploded. “Not me!” “It was you. You were kicking it and yelling about how unfair it was that Kai got picked for the Beijing tournament. You said he bribed the coach.” The coach glared at the guy. “You said what?” “I didn’t!” “Oh?” I bluffed, reaching for my phone. “I have more videos. Let me check.” The guy panicked. He turned and ran. Guilty. The coach waved his hand. “Alright, break it up. Practice time!” “Coach,” I said, smiling. “Did you forget something?” “What?” I pointed at Kai, who was quietly organizing his rackets. “You didn’t apologize to him.” “You accused him in front of everyone. Don’t you owe him an apology?” Kai stopped moving. He looked up. The coach spat, “Where did this brat come from? Get lost! Don’t interrupt practice!” “Everyone out! Out!” He stormed off. I wiped the spit off my face. Kai smirked. Just a tiny bit. I saw it. “You laughing at me?” His face went blank. “No.” “Whatever. I helped you today. You owe me a drink.” Kai looked at me, then nodded. “Okay.” [Wait, do I ship them?] [This is weird. Why are they making eyes at each other?] [I haven’t even seen the MC and FMC meet yet, and these two are going on dates?]

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My big sister, Lily, has always been strict with me. She told me I’m the heroine of a “chasing the wife in the crematorium” novel—basically, I’m destined to be emotionally destroyed by a toxic scumbag until he realizes his mistake. So, I’ve always listened to her. Until I saw the floating comments: [Silly girl, your sister is literally trying to steal the Male Lead from you!] [You’ve been scammed! You’re actually the heroine of a sweet romance novel, and she’s the evil villainess!] [She won’t let you near Jason because she wants him for herself. How can this naive sweetie not see that?] I ignored them, turned around, and hugged my sister’s leg. “Lily! Lily! Someone is bad-mouthing you!” Lily froze, panic flashing in her eyes as she hid her phone behind her back. But I saw it clearly. She had just texted Jason: I like you. Do you want to be together? 1 For as long as I can remember, my sister, Lily, has been the best person in the world. When I was sixteen, our parents died in a car crash. She took on the responsibility of raising me. She dropped out of college and worked three jobs to pay for my tuition. My heart ached for her. I wanted to drop out and work with her to support our family. But she sternly lectured me: “No, Mia. I don’t want you dealing with the real world so early. You should enjoy a carefree campus life.” I pouted and hugged her arm, whining: “I don’t spend that much money at school, Sis. Just cut my allowance in half. I don’t want you working so hard. I want you to have more time to hang out with me. Please? I know you love me the most, right?” Lily looked at me. She zoned out for a few seconds, an emotion I couldn’t read flashing in her eyes. Finally, her lips moved: “Of course. I love Mia the most.” “Lily is the best! Mia loves Lily the most!” I nuzzled into her embrace, completely missing her fingers curling into a tight, white-knuckled fist. After that, Lily continued giving me the same allowance as before. Even though I tried to refuse, the cash would inevitably appear in my backpack the next morning. I swore to myself: I will study hard, and when I grow up, I’ll buy Lily a mansion, a luxury car, and hire male models for her entertainment! During summer break, I secretly got a part-time job behind her back. I went to a bubble tea shop, shaking endless cups of tea, washing endless hands, peeling endless grapes. Finally, I saved up $800 to buy her the latest iPhone. I had seen her secretly lingering on the Apple Store page while browsing shopping apps. She looked again and again, but never bought it. Yet, when she found out my school required us to buy new laptops, she transferred $800 to me without hesitation, asking: “Is it enough, Mia? If not, I’ll figure something out. Never hide anything from me, okay?” Thinking of Lily’s happy face when she gets the phone, I quickened my pace toward the restaurant where she worked. 2 It was a popular Chinese restaurant. Greasy and busy. I spotted Lily by the dishwashing station in the back kitchen. I waved excitedly: “Lily!” But she didn’t hear me. Because someone else was calling her name. It was a guy covered in grease, but with a strangely clean, handsome face. He was a head taller than Lily. And right now, he was reaching out, trying to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Oh, hell no! Who is this guy?! I rushed over, fixed Lily’s hair before he could, and blocked her like a mother hen protecting her chick. “Don’t touch my sister!” The man paused, looking confused: “Lily, this is…?” Lily patted my head and spoke gently to the man: “This is my little sister, Mia. Mia, this is Jason.” I stared at Jason with extreme suspicion, puffing out my cheeks like a blowfish. I was jealous!! Ahhhh!! How could there be a second person in this world worthy of Lily’s gentle voice? That privilege used to belong only to me! I’m throwing a tantrum! Right now! Wait. Why are my eyes suddenly itchy? I rubbed them. Weird, neon text started floating in front of my face: [The Female Lead finally meets the Male Lead.] [Sigh, it’s all the villainess’s fault. If Lily hadn’t dropped out of school to work here just to meet him first, the Female Lead would have been the first to know him.] What Male Lead? What Female Lead? Villainess? I don’t understand. What are they yapping about? [Lily really loves Jason. Dropping out of school for him? Hopeless romance brain.] [Problem is, she’s the villainess. She knows Jason is Mia’s official partner, but now that she’s ‘awakened,’ she’s trying to steal him. What a schemer.] What the heck??? Are these things saying my sister likes this greasy guy? No! I won’t allow it! I pulled Lily aside, covering my mouth with my hand while side-eying Jason, whispering loudly: “Sis, you don’t actually like him, do you? He’s okay-looking, but he’s just a busboy. You’re so pretty, you can do way better!” [Tsk tsk, our Mia-baby is so naive. Lily knows Jason is going to become the most powerful tycoon in the city. She wants to be his ‘White Moonlight’ while he’s still poor.] [In the original novel, she even drugged Jason to steal him from you.] I closed my eyes. La la la, I can’t hear you. Impossible. My sister isn’t that kind of person. 3 Lily comforted me. “Silly Mia, you’re overthinking it. Jason and I are just friends. Relax, I don’t want to date anyone yet. I just want to stay with you and watch you grow up carefree.” Humph. I knew it. Lily is the best sister in the world. I used to read novels in class. Some comments were just trolls trying to break up the main couple, causing misunderstandings that lasted hundreds of chapters. These evil comments must be trying to drive a wedge between me and Lily! Luckily, I, Mia, am a genius and saw through their plot instantly! “Then come to the zoo with me tomorrow, Lily! I snagged two discount tickets online, and they come with a big bag of animal feed!” Lily wiped her hands on her apron and gently pinched my cheek: “Whatever Mia wants. I’ll buy some ingredients later and make you tuna sandwiches with extra cheese. We’ll go to the zoo tomorrow, okay?” I looked at Jason smugly. Little punk. Trying to compete with me for favor? Not a chance. [I bet ten bucks Lily will invite Jason to the zoo. She won’t miss a chance to date him.] [I bet a hundred. Jason will be there tomorrow.] [Wake up, Female Lead. She’s making sandwiches not because you like them, but because tuna sandwiches are the Male Lead’s favorite.] I waved my hand, trying to disperse the annoying floating text. So annoying. Lily won’t invite Jason. I trust her! That night, I lay in my soft bed, hugging the plushie Lily gave me, tossing and turning. Rare. I actually have insomnia. Whatever. I’ll play some mindless mobile games until I fall asleep. An hour later. I raged. Subconsciously, I texted Lily for comfort: Waaah, Lily, I’m never playing this game again. I spent so much money and I still can’t beat these guys. The devs are crazy. I have B-tier combat power, and they match me with D-tier enemies who slice me like melons! I checked the time. 3 AM. Lily must be asleep. I put down my phone to sleep. Buzz. Best Sister in the Universe: Mia don’t cry, pat pat. [Transfer: $100.00] Best Sister in the Universe: Buying away my baby sister’s unhappiness~ Sob. My eyes got misty. I almost cried out loud. I sniffled and hugged the plushie tighter: Sis, why are you still awake? Best Sister in the Universe: Because I heard your message. Just as I sent a kissing emoji back, the comments started acting up again: [Gotta say, Lily treats Mia well on this point. She muted everyone else, but set Mia as an emergency contact.] [So what? If Lily had to choose between Mia and Jason, she’d pick Jason without hesitation.] I snapped. I sat up and yelled at the air: “Are you done yet?!” “Say one more bad thing about my sister and I’ll kill you!” [?? Wait, you can see us? Then why don’t you listen?] [Silly child, we’re helping you. Your sister is the villain.] “I’m not listening! Lalala! If I see one more word from you today, your bank accounts will drain into mine!” Instantly, the comments went silent. 4 A dreamless night. The next morning, I woke up pumped. I put on matching outfits with Lily. We were going to take so many cute photos! But that expectation shattered quickly. Imagine my pain when I saw Jason, dressed up, standing at the zoo entrance. But I comforted myself. Coincidence! This must be a coincidence! Jason looked me up and down and smiled: “Good morning, Mia. Your outfit is really cute today.” Me: O.o “I know. I’m cute every day.” Maybe realizing he hit a wall, he turned to Lily: “Lily, you look cute too. Haha, changing your style? It’s refreshing.” I snarked: “Did we ask for your opinion? Have some boundaries.” Jason didn’t expect me to roast him so directly. His smile froze. When people are awkward, they find busy work. He pointed to an ice cream stand: “It’s hot. I’ll go buy you guys ice cream.” As soon as he left, Lily asked: “Mia, are you unhappy?” I pouted: “No.” Then whispered: “I just thought it would be only the two of us…” Lily froze. Apologetically, she said: “Sorry, Mia. I wasn’t thinking. Jason messaged me yesterday asking if he could come along. He said he hasn’t been anywhere in the city except the restaurant. I owed him a favor, so I thought this would square it. I promise, I won’t do it again. Don’t be mad at me, okay?” My frown instantly flipped upside down: “Okay!” It’s all that shameless dog-man’s fault. Trying to intrude on my time with Lily! Go die!!!! [Look at her attitude. She believes the villainess again. Whatever, you can’t wake someone pretending to sleep.] [I thought being love-struck was terminal, but apparently ‘sister-struck’ is too.] [Damn, I wish I had a cute sister like this. I’d give her all my money!] Humph. So what if I’m obsessed with my sister? She gives me money! She cooks for me! She takes care of me! You guys are just jealous! Jealous! Jason came back with ice cream. He handed me a mango one: “Here, this is for you.” [The Male Lead and Female Lead really are soulmates. He randomly buys her favorite flavor. A perfect match!] [These comments are raising my blood pressure. Stop shipping them! Mia obviously feels nothing for him. If you really liked Mia, you wouldn’t force this.] [We’re not forcing it! They are the official couple! If not for the villainess, they’d be together already.] [Speechless. Bye.] I was speechless too. I hid behind Lily like she was a shield: “Lily! Lily! There’s an assassin trying to harm me!” Lily protected me: “Huh? Who?” I pointed at the mango ice cream: “I’m allergic to mango.” Lily blinked at me blankly, her eyes asking: Since when? I blinked back with a mysterious smile. Since right now. Lily got the message and rejected Jason: “I’m allergic to mango too. You eat it. We pass.” So, Jason ate three ice cream cones by himself. I was a little disgusted. Is he going to get sick on the tour bus later? 5 Jason tried to walk between us. I wouldn’t let him. I dragged Lily ahead, trying every trick to shake him off. If he tried to make small talk, I’d suddenly have a foot ache, hand ache, back ache, or headache to grab Lily’s attention. Eventually, even his thick skin couldn’t handle it, and he shut up. As we entered a crowded exhibit, a comment floated by: [Here comes the classic scene. Watch, Mia. Your sister is about to ‘twist her ankle’ and fall into Jason’s arms.] I didn’t take it to heart. I kept dragging Lily around. “Can you guys wait for me?!” Jason jogged up, out of breath. Just then, Lily stumbled and actually started falling toward Jason. I reacted with lightning speed and caught her: “Careful, Lily! The floor is slippery! Let me help you!” [Mia-baby, stop. She won’t thank you. She thinks you ruined her moment.] [Exactly. Look at her face.] I looked at Lily’s face. She was pale. Obviously, she was scared from almost falling! After that little incident, we decided to rest on the picnic lawn outside the exhibit. Lily took out the lunch box and started distributing sandwiches. She picked up the first one. I reached out instinctively. Because usually, she gives me the first of everything. But this time… She didn’t. She actually gave that sandwich to Jason. “Jason, try this. Mia wanted them, so I made extra.” My nose stung. Tears threatened to fall. So sad. Why him first? Why not me? Why why why? “This one is yours, Mia.” Lily took out a separate pink box for me. I looked over. The sandwich inside was the PRO MAX version of Jason’s. Thinly pressed bread. Double fillings. Double sauce. And a little heart drawn in ketchup on top. I was instantly healed. I ate with gusto. Smacking my lips loudly so Jason knew how good it was! It was so big it was hard to hold. But I didn’t care. I held it up to show Jason! My version is different from yours! Ha! Haha! Hahaha! […I’m silent. She’s easier to coax than my cat.] [I wish my girlfriend was this easy to please.] “Mia, want some fruit?” Lily’s backpack was like Doraemon’s pocket. She pulled out another small box. I opened it. My favorite mangoes! I immediately forked a piece into my mouth. Chew chew chew. So sweet. So good. Jason, silently eating his sandwich, couldn’t help but ask: “Mia… aren’t you allergic to mango?” I replied confidently: “Yeah, but I’m not allergic to mangoes cut by my sister. Right, Lily?” I looked at Lily. She nodded, playing along with a straight face: “That’s correct.” [Are you two gaslighting the Male Lead?] [Is there a normal person in this trio? The Male Lead is a central AC unit, nice to the sister but simping for the little sister. The big sister wants to steal the man but protects the little sister on principle. And the little sister is invincible; no matter what we say, she’s loyal to her sis.] [Three weirdos.]

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My piano practice was getting me evicted from every apartment complex in the city, so I did something drastic. I bought a “Ghost Condo.” It’s a dirt-cheap unit in a high-end building on the outskirts of town where wealthy families stash their ancestors’ ashes to avoid buying expensive cemetery plots. The whole building is dead silent. Literally. I’m the only living resident. I can bang on the keys however I want. One night, I was deep in the zone, shredding through a piece, when a roar exploded from the empty air behind me: “You suck! The fourth measure is wrong, wrong, WRONG!” I froze, the hair on my arms standing up. “Uh… Care to demonstrate, Master Ghost?” 1 I practice twelve hours a day. No landlord could tolerate me. Then a realtor told me about “The Spire.” It’s a high-rise out in the sticks. Rent was pennies, amenities were top-tier, and the neighbors? They were all in urns. At first, I thought “no living neighbors” was a sales pitch. But when I moved in, the silence was heavy. The garage was empty. The hallways echoed. The security guard looked at me like I was an alien. Even DoorDash drivers refused to deliver to the lobby. I asked the guard, “Hey, I thought these units were sold out. Why haven’t I seen a single soul?” The guard blew a smoke ring, looking bored. “They’re all full.” “You’re joking. I haven’t seen a ghost of a person.” “Ghosts don’t cast shadows, kid.” I shivered. “Excuse me?” “I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “But the owners bought these units to store cremated remains. It’s cheaper than a mausoleum plot. You and I? We’re the only things with a pulse in here.” Ghost Condos. I thought about it for a second and grinned. Perfect. No noise complaints. I could play until my fingers bled. “If you get scared, call the front desk,” the guard muttered, thinking I was crazy. 2 Scared? I didn’t have time to be scared. The Sterling Symphony was holding auditions in a month. I wanted to be a pianist there more than I wanted to breathe. My professor always said, “Harper, your technique is flawless, but you lack… soul.” That invisible, intangible “soul.” “Listen to Elias Thorne,” he’d say. “That man didn’t just play; he bled into the keys.” Elias Thorne. The former prodigy of the Sterling Symphony. He debuted as a teen genius, sold out global tours, and was the god of the classical world. But geniuses burn out. He developed severe mental health issues, retired early, and jumped off a hotel roof six months ago. He was only twenty-six. The audition piece was his signature track: Opus of Dreams. I cranked my speakers, blasting Thorne’s recording, then tried to replicate it. Night fell. The complex was pitch black, save for my lone window. I was pouring my heart into the keys when a voice barked right in my ear: “Annoying! The fourth measure is wrong! Wrong! WRONG!” I spun around. The door was locked. The room was empty. I walked to the balcony. Just the wind and a few flickering streetlights. “Who’s there?” I shouted. A crow flew past. Silence returned. Hallucinations. Great. I need sleep. I sat back down. Focus, Harper. I played the first few bars. “You could play it a hundred times and it’ll still be trash! STOP!” This time, the voice was clear. A man’s voice. Deep, angry, and right next to me. “Who are you?” I stammered, gripping the bench. “Does it matter? Listening to you butcher this song every night is torture. I’m losing my mind.” Excuse me? I graduated with honors. I’m not trash. “If you don’t know music, shut up,” I snapped at the air. “The fourth measure is exactly what’s on the sheet music.” The air went silent. See? A pretender. I put my foot on the pedal. “If you didn’t play it wrong,” the voice sneered, “then the sheet music is wrong.” I paused. Even I felt the disconnect. I could never capture the flavor Elias Thorne had. “This is the official score from the Symphony…” Clink. A piano key depressed. By itself. My hands were in my lap. Clink. Clink. I watched in horror and awe as the keys began to dance. Invisible fingers were running across the ivory. It was Opus of Dreams. My eyes saw nothing, but my ears saw everything. The power, the aggression, the sorrow. It was a live performance that eclipsed any recording I’d ever heard. The song ended. The room vibrated with the aftershocks. A long, heavy sigh echoed in the room. “Did… did you play that?” I whispered. “Who else? Casper the Friendly Ghost?” The voice snapped. 3 “Okay, fine,” he huffed. “I’m a ghost.” “A piano-playing ghost?” I reached out. My hand passed through cold air. “Scared?” “No.” “Liar.” I wasn’t lying. The fear was gone, replaced by awe. “That was incredible,” I said sincerely. “Master… can you teach me?” “Why are you obsessed with this song?” “I’m auditioning for the Sterling Symphony.” “Hah,” he scoffed. “If you can’t hear the difference between what I played and what you played, don’t bother. Go home.” He started playing again. I closed my eyes, dissecting every note. He was right. The sheet music was wrong. His interpretation had subtle shifts in tempo and dynamics that the paper didn’t capture. It was the “soul” I was missing. When he finished, I clapped. “Stop,” he commanded coldly. “Hands are for playing, not clapping.” What a grump. “You. Play it.” I took a deep breath. I channeled his anger, his power. For the first time, the music felt alive under my fingers. When I finished, silence filled the room. “Are you… Elias Thorne?” I asked into the void. Silence. “Hey! Mr. Grumpy? You leave?” He was gone. 4 The next day, my professor was stunned. “Harper, you finally unlocked it.” I was convinced the ghost was Elias Thorne. The style was identical. And Elias had died six months ago. It made sense he’d be haunting a high-end urn depository. I asked the guard who owned unit 502—the apartment right across from mine. He checked the log. “Surname is Thorne.” I jumped. “Thorne! I knew it!” The guard rolled his eyes. “Weirdo.” I ran up to 502 and knocked. “Elias? Thank you.” No answer. It was daytime; ghosts probably sleep. I wrote a note on a Post-it: Thank you. Can we meet again tonight? I slid it under the door of 502. That night, I practiced with renewed fire. “Hey, are you here?” “Did I improve?” “Mr. Grumpy?” Nothing. 5 I woke up to sunlight streaming in. I walked to my piano and froze. The Post-it note was sticking to the fallboard of my piano. Thank you. Can we meet again tonight? I turned it over. On the back, in scribbled handwriting: You improved. He was here. Over the next few days, we established a routine. I slid a note under 502; the next morning, I’d find critique on the back. “Softer on the left hand.” “More pedal.” “Too much hesitation.” One night, I was feeling brave. “Mr. Grumpy, I know you’re there. Why won’t you talk to me?” “Should I burn some spirit money for you? Or maybe a paper piano?” “GET OUT!” The roar shook the room. He was back. “Mr. Grumpy…” “Who is your teacher?” he snapped. “Your phrasing is small. Petty.” “But everyone wants the next Elias Thorne…” “Why be another Elias? Be yourself.” “Here. Left hand stronger. Like this.” The keys moved. I pulled out my phone and hit record. “I’m leaving,” he said abruptly after an hour. “Goodbye… best teacher ever?” I waved at the air. From the hallway, a voice drifted back. “Mr. Grumpy is fine. I approve.” I slept with headphones on, listening to the recording. It was a treasure. But listening closely, I realized something. The living Elias Thorne played with majesty. This ghost played with rage. Like he was trying to punch through a wall.

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My childhood friend’s mom, Auntie Beth, suspects he’s in a relationship too early. So she asked me to be the bad guy and break them up. I looked at my future mother-in-law, speechless. She roared, “I don’t care who she is, they have to break up! If anyone dares to ruin my son’s future, I’ll end her!” My heart skipped a beat. I nodded vigorously. “Break up. Absolutely. Must happen.” 1 I understand why Auntie Beth is spiraling. Last year, on the day of the SATs, she had a sudden heart attack. Her son, Caleb—who was projected to be Valedictorian and go Ivy League—missed the exam. Meanwhile, I got lucky. I aced it and got into State U with a full ride. Taking a gap year to retake the test messed with Caleb’s head. Even though he’s smart enough for State U, the specific program he wants is incredibly competitive. So, Auntie Beth is watching his study habits like a hawk. Caleb and I planned to go public with our relationship after he finished his exams this year. To keep Auntie Beth calm, we decided to keep it underground until then. But this semester, Caleb dropped from first in his class to third. Auntie Beth is losing her mind. When I came home for winter break, before I could even drag my suitcase through my own front door, Auntie Beth pulled me into a corner. She showed me Caleb’s report card. I tried to comfort her. “It’s probably just a slip-up. Don’t worry, Auntie.” “If it was just a slip-up, I wouldn’t be worried! But I’ve heard him whispering on the phone late at night. ‘Babe’ this, ‘honey’ that. I listened at the door… the girl sounds exactly like you!” Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. Guilty as charged. I looked down, avoiding her eyes, trying to play it cool. “It’s probably just normal classmates chatting…” “Impossible!” Auntie Beth’s tone was so sharp my heart jumped into my throat. “Do normal classmates say ‘I miss you’ and ‘kisses and hugs’? I guarantee that little punk is dating someone early. I just don’t have proof. Sarah, honey, you go talk some sense into him. Whatever it takes, make them break up.” I stared at my future mother-in-law, mouth open, words failing me. Then came the roar: “I don’t care who she is! They have to break up! If anyone dares to ruin my son’s future, I’ll end her!” My heart trembled. I nodded like a bobblehead. “Break up. Yes. Must break up.” 2 I dropped my suitcase right there and sprinted up to the second floor, straight to Caleb’s room. My hand was raised to knock when the door flew open. I was yanked inside. Without a word, Caleb pinned me against the door. He kissed me like he was trying to devour me. I couldn’t struggle; I couldn’t escape. One hand cradled the back of my head, the other gripped my waist. The kiss was urgent, fierce. By the time he stopped, my legs were jelly. I couldn’t stand. My clothes were disheveled. Then I remembered Auntie Beth’s words. I pushed him away, blocking his attempt to go for round two. “Your mom thinks you’re in a relationship. She sent me to convince you to break up. Do you think… maybe she knows it’s us and was testing me?” “Will she tell my parents? Will they team up to destroy us?” Then our families would turn into enemies. We’d have to move. We’d never see each other again. The more I thought about it, the scarier it got. “We’re doomed. What do we do?” Caleb wasn’t listening. He was staring at my lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not enough. More.” He tried to pry my hands away, his other hand wandering. I remembered where we were. His mom was downstairs! I dodged him. Whether Auntie Beth knew or not, Caleb’s future was the priority right now. No one could get in the way. Not even me. Right then and there, I made a big decision. “Caleb, let’s break up.” 3 Hearing those words, his eyes cleared instantly, replaced by disbelief and anger. “Sarah Miller, say that again.” I explained softly. “Just for six months. Until you finish your exams. Then we get back together.” He got even madder, turning his head away. “I don’t agree. Not happening. If this is because of a few words from my mom, I’ll go tell her the truth right now.” Caleb is stubborn as a mule. I knew he’d do it. I hugged him from behind, trying to coax him. “Baby, I don’t want this either. But I am affecting you. Otherwise, why did your rank drop to third?” Caleb looked down at me, his gaze cold. “Did you want to break up with me a long time ago?” ??? My brain short-circuited. What does he mean, a long time ago? He was getting emotional. “Then why did you lie?” 4 Lie? My brain spun. I realized immediately what day he was talking about. Because it was the only time. That night during dinner, I had a sudden high fever. My roommates rushed me to the ER. I was out of it, unconscious. When the fever broke and I woke up, it was 7 AM. As expected, my phone was blown up with texts and missed calls from Caleb. I knew he had finals coming up, and I didn’t want him to worry. So I called him back quickly. I lied and said I fell asleep and accidentally muted my phone. He just said “Oh” and hung up. He never mentioned it again. Now that he asked, I confessed everything. But he was still angry. Getting angrier. His eyes looked fierce. “Sarah, we promised. total honesty. Always.” “I told you, you have the right to choose. If one day you don’t like me as much, or you meet someone else who makes your heart beat faster, just tell me. I’ll let you go.” “But you can’t lie to me. Don’t treat me like an idiot.” He was shouting now. I was confused. Was it that serious? I was wrong, sure, but it was a white lie. “I didn’t change my mind. I still like you. I admit I shouldn’t have lied, but you don’t have to be so mean!” This was the first time Caleb had ever raised his voice at me. So scary. A wave of grievance washed over me. Tears spilled out uncontrollably. I turned my back on him. I didn’t want to talk to him. Just then, a knock on the door. Auntie Beth pushed it open. She looked at the two of us. She saw my teary eyes and red nose. Then she remembered why she sent me up here. She grabbed Caleb by the ear right there. “Sarah is doing this for your own good! Why are you yelling?! How did I raise you? Never bully girls! Never make a girl cry! Apologize to Sarah right now!” I turned around, glared at him through my tears, and huffed: “Hmph. Don’t need it.” 5 Close to New Year’s Eve, everyone was busy visiting relatives. I went with my parents and grandparents to Miami for the holiday. I didn’t speak a word to Caleb. On New Year’s Eve, the family was gathered around the TV, laughing. I sat in the corner of the sofa, distracted and miserable. Even the thick stack of red envelopes (cash gifts) couldn’t cheer me up. Usually, at this time, Caleb would FaceTime me. He’d complain about being the Public Enemy of all the younger cousins because his grades were too good, making them look bad. He’d be surrounded by brats asking a million questions. Finally, he’d hide in his room and beg me for comfort. We’d chat through the screen about funny holiday stuff or roast the TV gala. Sometimes we’d say nothing, just look at each other. Time would fly. The night would be over in a blink. But now, the contact named [My Good Puppy] was silent in my chat list. The grievance welled up again. Seriously? He hasn’t come to comfort me for this long? Says he misses me every day—is this how he misses me? Fine! Don’t talk to me for the rest of your life! Sadness turned to rage. I threw my phone aside and went out to watch fireworks.

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My twin brother was bullied to death in high school. The rich kids who did it hid behind their “minor” status, got a slap on the wrist, and went right back to their luxury cars and parties. They thought the problem was buried six feet under. What they didn’t know was that I exist. I was born with Antisocial Personality Disorder, locked away in a psych ward for being too dangerous. But now, I know the truth. I’ve escaped. And I’m walking through the school gates wearing my dead brother’s face. Time to teach them what a real monster looks like. 1 After our parents died, it was just me and my twin brother, Jacob. Neither of us won the genetic lottery. Jacob was born with an intellectual disability—he was innocent, slow, a permanent child. Me? I was born wrong in a different way. The doctors called it Antisocial Personality Disorder. I had violent tendencies and zero empathy. When I was little, I hurt people. My parents, terrified I’d kill someone, pulled me out of school and locked me in a dark room. In that darkness, Jacob was my only light. Everyone feared me—even Mom and Dad—but not Jacob. He’d sneak in, giggle, call my name, and feed me butterscotch candies through the crack in the door. At night, he’d hug me, singing nursery rhymes to calm my rage. When our parents died in an accident, the relatives didn’t want a psychopath. They shipped me off to a state mental hospital. Jacob was left behind to fend for himself in the public school system. I missed him. So, I learned to act. I wore a mask of sanity. I suppressed the violence. I played the model patient for years, just so I could get out and protect him. I finally escaped. I ran all the way home, clutching a piece of candy a nurse gave me, imagining Jacob’s smile. But when I got to our old neighborhood, the neighbors told me Jacob had been missing for two days. Some classmates had “taken him to play.” Mrs. Higgins next door, the only one who ever pitied us, touched my head. “Go find him, Caleb. Those kids didn’t look right. Your brother is slow… don’t let them hurt him.” Panic, a rare emotion for me, seized my chest. I followed her directions to an abandoned textile factory on the edge of town. That’s where I found him. Jacob was curled up in a corner like a broken doll. His legs were snapped. His fingers were bent at impossible angles. He was covered in blood, cold and stiff. One of his eyes was gone—shattered by a rusty nail driven straight into the socket. I didn’t feel sadness the way normal people do. I felt a cold, black void opening up. My brother was gone. The only person who treated me like a human. I fell to my knees beside his body. I pulled him into my arms and screamed until my throat bled. “Jacob! Wake up!” I shoved the sticky, half-melted candy into his slack mouth. “Eat it, Jacob. It’s sweet. I saved it for you. Look at me! Caleb is back! I’m here!” He didn’t move. I pried his fist open. Inside was a crumpled, blood-soaked piece of paper. A “confession letter” they forced him to write. It listed his “crimes”: being stupid, breathing too loud, existing. They killed him for fun. 2 I carried Jacob’s body back to our run-down apartment. I boiled water and cleaned him, wiping away the blood and grime. I pulled the nail out of his eye. I sat there from dusk until dawn, staring at the five names scrawled at the bottom of that bloodied note. My hit list. I needed a plan. But before I could even formulate one, a rat scurried into my trap. Late that night, a window creaked open. Someone was breaking in. It was one of them. Doug. He probably went back to the factory, saw the body was gone, and panicked. “Shit,” he whispered, tripping over a bottle. “Did the retard actually die? That was scary as hell. Whatever, even if he croaked, I’m a minor. Can’t touch me.” He turned on his flashlight and screamed. I was sitting in the corner, staring right at him with wolf eyes. “Jacob?!” Doug fell on his ass, scrambling backward. “You—you’re alive? You freak, don’t scare me like that or I’ll beat you again!” I stood up and flicked the light switch. Doug paused. “Who are you? You… you’re not Jacob.” I smirked. “Smart kid. You can tell us apart even with identical faces.” “Jacob’s eye is messed up,” Doug stammered, realizing his mistake too late. “You… are you his brother?” I didn’t answer. I kicked him in the chest. I’m stronger than the average person. Doug flew back, coughing up blood. He crawled backward until his hand touched something cold. Jacob’s body. He screamed like a banshee. I squatted down in front of him. “As you can see, my brother is dead.” I slapped his sweaty face with an icy hand. “You killed him. Now, how should I punish you?” I beat him until his face was unrecognizable. He broke. “Please! Stop! It wasn’t me! Chloe stabbed his eye! Trent broke his legs! Gavin broke his fingers! I just… I just tricked him into going there!” Four names. The list had five. “Who is Henderson?” I asked, squeezing his throat. “Henderson… cough… he’s our guidance counselor… and homeroom teacher!” My blood ran cold. The teacher was in on it? I didn’t kill Doug. Not yet. I needed him. I dragged him to the basement and threw him down the stairs. Then I carried Jacob’s body down and laid it next to him. “No! Don’t leave me with a corpse! Help!” He was too loud. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and went back down. I sliced the corners of his mouth and used the handle to smash his front teeth out, one by one. “Quiet,” I whispered. He passed out from the pain. I locked the door. Let him rot with the guilt and the ghost. I went upstairs, found Jacob’s spare uniform, and cut my hair to match his. The next morning, I walked into the high school as Jacob. 3 I found Jacob’s desk. It was in the back, next to the trash cans. The surface was covered in permanent marker: Retard. Waste of space. Freak. The chair was sticky with glue. I sat down, my face expressionless. The other students whispered. “Weird… Jacob doesn’t look stupid today. Did he get a brain transplant?” “Jacob,” a boy with glasses walked up, looking terrified. “Mr. Henderson wants to see you.” I stood up. The boy looked at me with pity, like I was walking to my execution. I walked into Henderson’s office. It was empty. I started rifling through his desk. Why was a teacher on Jacob’s hate list? The bottom drawer was locked. “Looking for something, Jacob?” A greasy voice slithered from behind me. I turned. Henderson was leaning against the doorframe, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting. He looked like a viper. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. “Bad boys who snoop get punished.” I wanted to snap his neck right there. But I had to play the part. I cowered, protecting my head. “Sorry! Sorry, don’t hit me!” He slapped me twice. Then he sat in his chair and pulled me onto his lap. “Baby, I missed you. Why didn’t you come to school? Was it because we played too rough last time?” His hand slid down my back, towards my pants. I froze. My brain short-circuited. This sick, twisted animal assaulted my brother? Henderson’s breath smelled like rot. “Are you still sore?” I stood up abruptly, suppressing the urge to vomit. Henderson narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you defying me now?” I clenched my fist. Just as I was about to crush his windpipe, the bell rang. Henderson sighed. “Get to class. We have plenty of time later.” 4 I walked to the door. Henderson stared at me, smiling that predatory smile. He thought I was the prey. I turned and smiled back. A smile void of any humanity. “You’re right, teach. Plenty of time.” I didn’t go to class. I went to the boys’ bathroom. Jackpot. The Trio—Trent, Gavin, and Chloe (who had walked into the boys’ room like she owned it)—were vaping in the back. I hid in a stall and listened. “I heard the retard is back. How? I broke his leg,” Trent said. “And Doug is missing,” Chloe whispered, her voice shaking. “You don’t think… is it a ghost? Did he die and come back?” Trent smacked her head. “Shut up! There are no ghosts. If we can break him once, we can break him again.” I pushed the stall door open. They froze. Chloe screamed. Gavin dropped his vape. Trent tried to act tough, but his hands were shaking. “Jacob? You… how are you walking?” I huddled into the corner, shaking, mimicking Jacob perfectly. “Don’t… don’t hurt me…” Trent laughed, relief washing over him. “See? Same old pussy.” He walked over and grabbed my hair. “Where’s your psycho brother, huh? Usually, you cry for him to save you. Why so quiet?” My fists clenched at my sides.

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The “School Prince” hated my stutter. He told me to keep my mouth shut and just be a pretty, silent doll. But the “School Bully”—the chaotic rich kid everyone feared—paid someone to switch seats just to sit next to me. He spent all day trying to make me talk. “Hey, if you tutor me, I’ll order you a whole roast duck for dinner. Deal?” My face burned red. “N-N-No!” (I meant No shame!) He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be polite! It’s on me!” Later, he forced me to become the fastest trash-talker in the stuttering community. Like a Peashooter from Plants vs. Zombies. Right before finals, the School Prince tried to manipulate me into tanking my GPA so the new transfer student could take first place. The School Bully leaned against the wall, cracking sunflower seeds, and jutted his chin at me. “Little Stutter! Roast him!” I kept a straight face. “Dumb!” “Ass!” 1 This morning, I bumped into Mrs. Greene, my neighbor. She shoved a breakfast sandwich into my hands and told me to give it to her son, Julian. I walked up to Julian’s desk. “Ju… Ju… Julian, this is…” “Alright, that’s enough.” Julian waved me off impatiently. “Listening to you stutter gives me a headache.” “Bailey, I know you like me, but can you stop with the breakfast delivery? It’s weird.” A few girls nearby giggled. He smirked, looking smug. “Honestly, Bailey, you’re pretty when you’re quiet. Maybe just… don’t talk from now on.” My face felt like it was on fire. I wanted to explain that his mom made me bring it, but the more anxious I got, the more my throat locked up. Inside, I was screaming a thousand-word essay. It’s always like this! Julian knew his mom made me do this. But he always cut me off before I could finish, letting everyone believe I was some desperate simp buying him breakfast. Everyone thought I had a crush on him. He was tall, captain of the basketball team, possessed deep dimples—the whole package. But I didn’t like him. We lived in the same apartment building. I grew up watching him pick his nose and wipe it on other kids. My mom, worried I’d get bullied because of my stutter, asked him to “look out for me.” So Mrs. Greene felt entitled to use me as a free delivery service. But Julian never looked out for me. He just looked down on me. Suddenly, a lazy, drawling voice cut through the noise. “Yo, looks like a party in here.” Axel strolled in, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. He scanned me, then let his gaze land on Julian. Before anyone could react, Axel walked up to Julian, made a series of complicated hand signs like he was casting a spell from Naruto, and then smack—slapped a sticky note onto Julian’s forehead. “What the hell?!” Julian recoiled. Axel looked mock-surprised. “Oh, my bad. I thought you hated talking, so I was using sign language. Guess you know mouths are for speaking after all.” Someone in the back snorted. Julian’s face turned purple. “Axel! Are you crazy?” “Rude. I was just saying good morning.” Axel reached out and grabbed the sandwich sitting on Julian’s desk. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it. Starving.” “Wait! That’s what Bailey bought for me!” Too late. Axel took a massive bite. “Why didn’t you say so?” Axel immediately spat the bite back into the wrapper, grimacing. “I thought Bailey bought it. If your mom made it, why are you acting so high and mighty? If you want something else, tell your mommy yourself.” The classroom went dead silent. Everyone looked between me and Julian. “Wait, so Bailey didn’t buy it? It was his mom?” I nodded furiously. Julian looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. Axel tossed his backpack onto the desk next to mine. My deskmate, Sarah, looked terrified. “Switch seats?” Axel asked. “Axel, this is my seat…” Sarah squeaked. Axel pulled out his phone. Tap, tap, tap. Buzz. Sarah looked at her phone. Her eyes bugged out. “$5,000?!” “Switch or not?” Axel tilted his chin. “Deal!” Sarah grabbed her stuff and bolted. Before I could process what happened, Axel sat down, sprawling his long legs. “Don’t be shy, Ba-Ba-Bailey. Sit.” I was speechless. I knew he was rich, but five grand just to switch seats? 2 “Prime real estate,” Axel muttered, propping his chin on his hand. “View of the soccer field and next to the class valedictorian. I might actually pass this year.” “F-Failure,” I whispered. I regretted it instantly. But Axel’s eyes lit up. “Yo, Little Stutter got jokes?” “Your voice is nice. Say more stuff.” People were staring. My ears were burning. “Tell you what,” Axel said, dumping a crumpled pile of worksheets onto my desk. “You tutor me, and tonight I’ll order you a whole roast duck. To nourish your brain.” Coughs erupted around the room. My face was crimson. “N-N…” No shame! Asking a stutterer to tutor him? Was he insane? We wouldn’t finish the first chapter before graduation! “Don’t be polite!” Axel grinned, eyes crinkling. “I’m serious. Me and these papers? We’re strangers. If this keeps up, I’m failing finals.” Julian walked over, looking concerned. “Bailey, are you sure you want to sit next to him? Finals are coming up. He’ll drag you down.” Axel’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes went cold. “Want me to sit next to you instead?” Julian choked. “No thanks. I don’t need your grades rubbing off on me.” The homeroom teacher walked in, saw Axel, frowned, but said nothing. Axel’s dad is the Chairman of a Fortune 500 company. When Axel fails a test, his dad donates a new library wing. The teachers learned to look the other way. I thought Axel was joking about tutoring. He wasn’t. As soon as class ended, he blocked my exit. “Why is the answer C? Why not A, B, or D? Do you have beef with them?” Beef? It’s math! I tried to explain, but the words got stuck. Axel whipped out his phone. “Hold up. Add me on WeChat. Just type it.” He shoved the QR code in my face. I hesitated, then scanned it. Ding. [Transfer Received: $10,000.00] [Note: Tutoring Fee (Voluntary Gift)] I stared at the zeros. My fingers paused over the “Block” button. I deleted Get lost and typed: [Okay! ^_^] Axel grinned like a fox who stole the hen. Stutterers have their ways. I discovered the Text-to-Speech function. Axel wasn’t dumb; he just had zero foundation. He picked things up fast. By lunch, we had finished half a math packet. [Genius!] I typed. Axel preened. “Duh. Dad went to Harvard, Mom went to Yale. I might be lazy, but the genes are strong.” I deleted the compliment. After school, Julian stood by my desk, reaching for my bag. “Bailey, let’s walk home.” Before I could react, Axel hooked my bag with one finger and swung it over his shoulder. “No need. I drive my own tutor home.” “We live in the same building. It’s on the way,” Julian insisted. “I have a driver,” Axel smirked. “Even more on the way.” “Rolls Royce Phantom. Want to try it, Ba-Ba? If you don’t like it, I’ll bring the Bentley tomorrow.” Julian’s eye twitched. He glared at Axel and stormed off. 3 As soon as I got in the car, my phone buzzed. Julian. [Axel is just a rich playboy who’s going to study abroad anyway. He’s playing with you. Don’t be stupid.] [Julian, tell your mom to stop making me bring you breakfast. I’m busy.] I don’t care if Axel goes abroad. He paid, I tutor. It’s a transaction. Julian sent a voice message. One minute long. I hate voice messages. Axel leaned over. “Voice message? Gross.” He tapped ‘Delete’ before I could listen. “Tell you what. You tutor me in math, I’ll tutor you in skills.” I tilted my head. “Trash talking.” What kind of skill is that? “Don’t underestimate it!” Axel lectured. “When someone states an opinion, right or wrong, you type: ‘Cope.’” “When someone defends a person you hate, you type: ‘Simp.’” “When someone tries to debate or explain, type: ‘Triggered.’” “When you don’t understand their logic, type: ‘Lol.’” “When they make up a strawman argument, type: ‘Reach.’” “When they say something actually valid, type: ‘Cap.’” “When you think you nailed them, type: ‘W.’” “When you can’t think of a comeback, type: ‘Mid.’” “Remember: ‘Cope’ beats ‘Triggered,’ ‘W’ beats ‘Reach,’ and ‘Lol’ beats everything.” “Some things don’t need explaining. Just roast them!” “If they still don’t get it, hit ’em with a ‘Skill issue.’” He held down the voice record button on my phone. “Try it.” I was skeptical. “C-Cope!” Axel cackled and hit send. Julian sent back five furious voice messages. He was definitely triggered. Axel deleted them all. When we got to my building, Axel handed me a paper bag. “Wait! I promised you a duck.” It was roast duck. From the best place in town. So the smell in the car wasn’t… oh god. My face burned. I grabbed the bag and ran. I saw Julian peeking through his curtains on the 7th floor. “See ya tomorrow, Ba-Ba!” Axel waved from the Rolls. At my door, Julian was waiting with a Tupperware container. “Bailey, I know your parents are working late. I brought dinner.” He glanced at the fancy bag in my hand. “Isn’t that roast duck? You said duck tastes gamey. You like my mom’s Sweet and Sour Ribs.” It’s only gamey if it’s cheap duck! This is gourmet! I shook the bag. “N-N-No thanks.” Julian frowned. “Bailey, Axel is just bored. Don’t daydream. You’re just a normal girl.” The hallway light flickered. I looked at the ribs. I remembered when I was little, my parents paid his mom to feed me when they worked late. Julian would pile ribs onto my plate. His mom would always say, “Oh, Bailey has a small stomach, don’t waste food.” Even though we paid, they treated me like a beggar. 4 But when Julian’s parents were away, my parents fed him like a king for free. “I… I d-don’t…” The stutter was back. Buzz. Axel: [Like the duck? If not, chicken tomorrow?] Me: [The rotisserie place across from school is good!] Axel: [Copy that!] Julian was still waiting for me to open the door so he could follow me in. I typed on my phone and hit ‘Play’. “Julian, I’m an adult. I know what I’m doing. Also, your mom puts cilantro in the ribs.” I hate cilantro. “Bailey! If you don’t like cilantro, just pick it out!” I told him a million times. He never remembers. His mom says, “Julian loves cilantro, just accommodate him.” Why? “Mid!” I used my new skill. Julian: ??? “Bailey! How long have you been hanging out with Axel? You’re cursing now?” Mid isn’t a curse word, you walnut! If I could talk properly, I’d roast him into the next century. He left, disappointed. That night, my mom came home early. She saw the duck. “Why didn’t you eat at the Greenes’?” “I sent Mrs. Greene a red packet (money) for the food, but she put cilantro in it again.” I explained everything. “The audacity! Mrs. Greene is money-hungry! She offered to cook for you! We only agreed because her husband was the only one working!” Mom called her and yelled, “Refund!” Mrs. Greene tried to argue, but my mom—a lawyer—destroyed her. The money came back. Next morning, classroom. Julian confronted me. “Bailey, why did you embarrass my mom?” “She’s always been good to you! When you had a fever in 9th grade, she drove you to the ER! When your mom worked late, she cooked feasts!” Feasts? In 9th grade, their water heater broke, so they all came to use ours. When it was my turn, the power went out. Mrs. Greene told me to “just take a cold shower quickly.” I got a fever of 103. My parents called 911. Mrs. Greene just watched the ambulance load me up. I stared at Julian’s moving lips. I enunciated clearly: “Cope.” “What?” I rolled my eyes. “Triggered.” He looked confused. His CPU was overheating. Before he could argue, I held up six fingers. “Skill issue.” His face turned liver-colored. “Are you mocking me? Did Axel teach you this? I knew it! He’s a bad influence…” I typed rapidly. Text-to-Speech, max volume. “Cope! Seethe! Dilate!”

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I’ve always been a magnet for boys. Since elementary school, love letters have piled up like junk mail. Terrified I’d turn into a teenage delinquent, my parents went nuclear: they arranged my marriage when I was basically a toddler. Having an “official fiancé” actually worked. It blocked most of the unwanted attention. Then came college. My grandfather passed away, so I went back to our ancestral village for the funeral. Bad move. Someone planted a “Matchmaker’s Curse” on me. The rule? If you’re marked by the Matchmaker’s Curse, you must marry the person the mark belongs to. Problem is, I already have a fiancé. 1 Back in my family’s village, nestled deep in the Appalachian backwoods, there’s a legend. Families with sons who are… undesirable… will scout for a girl and secretly bind her to their son with a dark hex. A mark appears on the girl’s body: a pale, crescent moon. They call it the “Matchmaker’s Seal.” If the girl’s family can’t break the curse, she has no choice but to marry the son—whether he’s a fool, blind, or paralyzed. If she refuses, the seal spreads. It covers her whole body, rotting her from the inside out until she dies. My mom used to tell me this story. I treated it like a fairytale. I grew up in the city; this hillbilly voodoo had nothing to do with me. Until my grandpa died. I went back for the funeral, and guess what? I became the main character in a horror story. 2 At first, I thought it was an allergy. I kept scratching at my collarbone until I noticed it—a pale pink crescent moon mark, right above my left clavicle. I showed it to my grandma. She exploded. “Which blind bastard dares target my granddaughter?! They must be tired of living!” My mom was frantic, stomping her foot. “What do we do? Clara is already engaged!” “Engaged or not, we aren’t taking this lying down,” my dad said, his face grim. The Matchmaker’s Seal is a type of Gu poison—ancient, nasty stuff. It’s hard to cultivate and even harder to plant. And if the curse is broken, the backlash hits the caster and the intended groom hard. No normal guy would resort to this. It meant the “owner” of this mark was likely desperate. Probably disabled, disfigured, or just plain evil. Grandma sighed. “To break the seal, we need to know who planted it. If only your grandpa were still alive.” Grandpa was a master at breaking hexes. When he was around, nobody dared touch us. Now that he was gone, the wolves were circling. 3 “Clara, did you eat anything you shouldn’t have? Especially from strangers?” Grandma asked. I thought about it. “No. Mom and Dad warned me before we came. I only ate at the house during the funeral wake.” “Then it was someone close. Probably at the funeral banquet,” Dad slammed his hand on the table. There were over 150 guests. It could have been anyone. “But those were all friends and family! Who could be so vicious?” Mom started crying. “List everyone with a son,” Grandma commanded. “Especially the unmarried, disabled, or slow ones.” Dad grabbed a pen. Out of 153 guests, 13 had unmarried sons. Ten were dating or engaged. That left three. One was my second cousin, Earl, from the next holler over. He had a bad eye and was thirty, still single. Another was Old Man Miller’s grandson, crashed his truck a few years back, lost a leg. He was twenty-eight, unemployed, and just played video games in his basement. The last was a distant relative, Lenny. An orphan, nearly forty, malnourished, and honestly, kinda creepy looking. 4 “Lenny wouldn’t. I watched him grow up. He wears your dad’s old clothes. He has no money and no skills to pull off a hex like this,” Grandma dismissed him. “Clara, tomorrow you come with me. We’re visiting the Millers and Cousin Earl.” She poked my forehead. “Look at you, zoning out! Aren’t you worried?” I wasn’t zoning out. I was terrified. Not of the curse, but of my fiancé. Mom looked guilty. My engagement was a result of my parents owing a life debt. Dad, oblivious as always, brought it up. “If he finds out, it’s gonna be a disaster.” “Clara’s fiancé? When can I meet him?” Grandma asked. “It happened so fast, we didn’t have time to tell you,” Dad mumbled. “We need to find the culprit fast. Before… before he gets angry.” My fiancé, Silas Vance. Honestly? I kinda wanted to see him angry. He was so stoic it was annoying. I’d only read about guys like him in books. 5 The next day, Grandma and I visited the Millers. We beat around the bush until I just showed Old Man Miller the mark. “Good Lord, Clara! It ain’t us!” he swore. “We’ve known your grandpa for fifty years! Plus, Clara’s a college girl; my grandson ain’t in her league. Your grandpa warned everyone about this dark magic. I ain’t gonna disrespect his memory like that.” He seemed sincere. Usually, once the mark appears, the groom’s family shows up within two weeks to “claim” the bride. If it were them, they’d admit it. 6 Next stop: Cousin Earl’s place. Earl came out to greet us. He looked honest, if a bit simple. He scratched his head and told us his dad wasn’t home—he was out with a matchmaker trying to set Earl up with a girl from the next town. Grandma and I exchanged a look. We left without even going inside. If it wasn’t them, who was it? “Don’t panic, Clara,” Grandma soothed me on the walk back. “The culprit will show up eventually. We’ll handle it.” I nodded. I wasn’t panicking about the curse. I was panicking because Silas Vance was coming. Silas wasn’t just a guy. He was from a hidden clan of Daoist cultivators. Like, legitimate wizards. They fasted, meditated, and practiced abstinence. Basically, he was an immortal who didn’t eat spicy Cheetos or BBQ. We were incompatible on a cellular level. But he was gorgeous. Otherworldly handsome. Cold, distant, radiating “do not touch” energy. Since we got engaged, he’d used his status to micromanage my life. No junk food. No staying up late. No clubbing. “Three months between Spicy Sticks. Six months for BBQ. One ice cream cone a year.” That was his compromise. Beauty is great, but does it taste like fried chicken? No. 7 I was mentally cursing him when I saw a familiar figure standing in my grandma’s doorway. My brain buzzed. “Uh… Grandma… you go in first. I… I forgot something…” I turned to bolt. I knew my parents would call the “Black-Faced God,” but I didn’t think he’d teleport here instantly. “Clara Yeager. Am I that scary?” I ran smack into a chest that felt like a marble wall. I looked up. Sharp brows, eyes like deep mountain pools. Silas. “Scarier than my Calculus professor,” I blurted out. Oops. Usually, he’d cast a “Silence Spell” on me for talking back. For a chatterbox like me, that was death. I braced myself. But he didn’t get mad. He actually smiled—a faint, terrifying twitch of the lips—and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “Your parents told me I was too cold. That’s why you resorted to planting a Matchmaker’s Seal on yourself. It’s my fault. From now on… I’ll buy you Spicy Sticks. Ice cream too.” Wait. What? My parents told him I planted the curse on myself? To get his attention? I almost laughed. I failed biology. How would I cultivate a magical parasite? But… he said he’d buy me Spicy Sticks. And ice cream. “Really? Buy me two packs of Spicy Sticks and a double-scoop cone. Right now.” Let’s test the waters. Silas nodded. “Let’s go. Your choice. My tab.” 8 After devouring the snacks and licking the ice cream off my fingers, I burped. “By the way, I didn’t plant the mark. Seriously. I swear on my GPA.” Silas’s face went dark instantly. “Clara!” Whoa. Now he’s mad. “Stop! No Silence Spell! Or I’ll marry the hex-caster and cuckold you!” “You dare!” His face was thunderous. “Try me.” I glared back. For the first time in years, I felt brave. His dark blue eyes churned with rage, reflecting my defiant face. “I will castrate the man who planted that mark.” “Ooh! You broke the Vance Family rule against profanity! Hahaha!” I pointed and laughed. Silas’s ears turned bright red. He literally vanished—used a speed talisman to zoom away. Embarrassed? Angry? Both? I love dragging this ascetic monk down to earth. Watching him get flustered is my favorite hobby.

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I was snapped walking into a villa with my sister, sparking a massive scandal that exploded to the top of the trending list. My ex-girlfriend went absolutely feral. Every time the internet sleuths dug up a photo of me and my “mystery woman,” my ex would clap back by dropping a photo of us from the past. I’ve seen people deny rumors before. I’ve never seen someone try to out-scandal a scandal with their own receipts. Netizens were losing it: What is happening today? Is the Ice Queen A-Lister having a public meltdown? She kept posting, one after another, until the internet begged her to stop. Too much tea! We’re drowning! 1 My mom doesn’t have many hobbies, but she loves “designing” clothes. It just so happened that Gwen and I both had clear schedules—no shoots for me, no concerts for her—so Mom summoned us home for dinner. Since our family lives in a gated community with military-grade security, we let our guards down and drove in together. “Come here, look! I made matching family outfits for the four of us!” I stared at the garment in front of me with a grimace. A perfectly good Hermes shirt, absolutely butchered. I tried to be gentle. “Mom, embroidering a letter onto a Hermes shirt doesn’t exactly count as ‘designing’.” My dad immediately jumped to her defense. “What do you know? This letter is the cherry on top. It elevates the whole piece. It’s avant-garde.” I muttered under my breath, ” pretty sure you don’t put the cherry on top before you bake the cake.” My dad, the ultimate wife-guy, glared at me. “Wear it. Your mother spent days stitching these. I’m putting mine on right now.” He threw on the black shirt. Honestly, the man is fifty, hits the gym daily, and looks like a silver fox. He could wear a trash bag and make it look like couture. Mom looked at him with literal heart eyes. “Honey, you look so handsome! I’ll make you five more.” Fine. Let the lovebirds have their moment. I held the shirt. “I’ll wear it tomorrow.” Gwen, seeing me dodge the bullet, quickly stashed hers away. “Me too. Tomorrow.” The next morning, I tried to sneak out, but Mom and Dad were already waiting in the living room like ambush predators. “Dad, aren’t you going to the office?” “I’m packing some organic fruit and veg for you guys to take back.” Right. He dug up half the backyard to plant a 5,000-square-foot garden just so he could eat “farm-to-table.” I pouted. “It’s heavy. Let Gwen carry it.” Dad lectured us while the housekeeper loaded the bags. “Take it all. Stop ordering Uber Eats. Look how skinny you two are.” Mom frowned at us. “Why haven’t you changed into your outfits?” Defeated, Gwen dragged two bags of produce, and we both walked out wearing the “custom” family shirts, heading back to the city. 2 I hadn’t even reached my agency when the internet imploded. A rival agency had camped paparazzi outside our family home for 24 hours. They got everything. Me and Gwen, entering and leaving together. [Daily Tea V: Top Idol Ryan and A-List Pop Princess Gwen spotted entering luxury villa together! After spending the night, they emerged in COUPLE OUTFITS carrying groceries. Looks like they’ve been cohabiting for a while. Stay tuned for details.] #RyanGwenDating rocketed to #1 on Trending. When I got to the office garage, Gwen’s sports car was already there. She opened my door. “Bro, the security guard took a bribe to let them in. Dad already fired him. How do we word the joint statement? I’ll follow your lead.” I adjusted my sunglasses while my assistant hit the elevator button. “PR and Legal are already upstairs. Let’s go.” As the story fermented, Twitter became a war zone. Gwen is a top-tier idol. A dating scandal is nuclear fallout for her career. Her fanboys were ready to crucify me. The comments were universally savage. They called me a cradle-robber and shameless. They called her blind and lacking career ambition. Yeah, mostly they were just dragging me. We’ve hidden our family background since debut. I even use my mom’s maiden name for my stage persona. The easiest fix would be to drop the bomb: We’re siblings, you idiots. But that would waste years of effort keeping our private lives private. I looked at the PR team’s drafts. Collaboration… Songwriting session… Just friends… I rubbed my temples. These excuses were older than the internet. I’ve never had a scandal. My team looked panic-stricken. Maybe it’s time to hire a new crisis manager. Screw it. Let’s just tell the truth. “Bro, drafted. Waiting for your signal,” Gwen said, hovering over the ‘Send’ button. “Ryan! Fiona just posted!” my assistant shrieked. I grabbed the phone. Fiona V: He flirts like a demon but won’t put a ring on it. Sister, you’re young, don’t let him play you. Let me be the one who falls for his trap. @Gwen Game over. Chaos reignited. We had just paid a fortune to bury the hashtag, and Fiona dug it up with a backhoe. I refreshed the feed. I was now being painted as a femme fatale in a male body, ruining the nation’s sweethearts. The hate intensified. I grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Don’t post yet.” Seeing my silence, Fiona decided to double down. And triple down. Fiona V: I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t misunderstand him. I was too busy with work and ignored him, so he dumped me. It’s not his fault, it’s mine. Fiona V: I’ve never even been to his house. Why does SHE get to go? Fiona V: So you like that type? Is it too late for me to debut as a pop idol? Fiona V: Which agency is hiring? I need to debut immediately. Email my assistant at xxxxxx. The timeline exploded. What day is it? Is the Ice Queen having a mental breakdown on main? Fiona’s brand was “Classy, Rational, Low-key, Professional.” She had zero scandals in five years. This was the first time anyone used “Fiona” and “Love Brain” in the same sentence. Usually, when co-stars tried to ship themselves with her for clout, her team shut it down within the hour. Fans called her “The Living Dead” of romance—allergic to men. 3 Even I was confused. We fell in love on my first drama, Timeless Memories. We filmed for six months, an angst-filled romance that bled into reality. After wrapping, she confessed. I liked her too. It was simple. But then she pivoted to movies. I stayed in TV. We were both “career-first” people. Or so I thought. She’d text, I’d reply six hours later. She’d reply the next morning. Five sentences in three days. The spark faded. I never saw her. She was cold and passive, just like her characters. Eventually, I broke up with her. I missed her, sure. But not enough to beg. Her career skyrocketed. Every guy linked to her got roasted by her fans—except Damian, the only guy she didn’t issue a denial about. I wanted to avoid trouble, so I stayed far away. So why was she going nuclear now? While I watched Fiona spiral, the internet detectives had already connected the dots on Gwen. Since she shares my dad’s surname, it wasn’t hard. #GwenRealIdentity hit Trending. Gwen: Daughter of Real Estate Mogul Gong Hanlin. Certified Nepo Baby. Fiona V: That’s it? Ever heard of the Fu family? Fu Zehua, Chairman of Mountain & Sea Group, is my dad. If you want money, I have way more than that little girl. Look at me. In one day, two secret heiresses were unmasked. [I thought Gwen being a property heiress was crazy, but Fiona just outed herself as the daughter of a multinational conglomerate chairman?! What does Ryan have? Magic pheromones?] [Is this a Cinderella story but reverse? Ryan, buy a lottery ticket, bro.] [Fiona has been a mystery for five years. She never talks about her life. Now she’s flexing her bank account to win a guy back? I’m crying.] [Retweet this Ryan for good luck in love.] The public sentiment shifted from hate to jealousy. Gwen and I were notoriously private. The netizens kept digging. They found a photo from elementary school of Gwen picking me up. In the pic, she’s waiting at the gate. I walk out, throw my backpack and blazer at her, and she just grins and carries them like a servant. The timeline melted down again. [He treats the Gong heiress like a maid?! How dare he?] [Why does he look so disdainful of her? Like she’s beneath him?] Fiona V: Childhood photos? Bitch, I have those too. She posted a photo of me at age seven or eight at a theme park, handing a balloon to a crying little girl. I squinted. I remembered that. Some kid was wailing next to me, annoying me, so I shoved my balloon at her to shut her up. That crybaby was Fiona?! 4 Then fans found a photo from Gwen’s 18th birthday gala. I was there, standing right next to her. Fiona V: You met the parents at 18? So I was just the rebound? Finally, the nail in the coffin. Gwen’s fans found a photo of us holding hands on the street. In the pic, Gwen is looking at me with pure adoration, and I’m practically collapsing into her arms. I looked at my pained expression and the bicycle in the background. That was the time I crashed my bike into a ditch! She wasn’t looking at me with love; she was laughing at my misery! I sprained my ankle and she had to help me to the car. Why was I on a bike? My agency gave me the “Poor Boy” persona. I realized being “poor” meant I didn’t have to compete in fashion wars or attend expensive galas. I leaned into it. Fiona V: You forced my hand! She dropped another photo. It was so spicy it crashed the image server instantly. [Sis, stop! Twitter is dying!] [Fiona, your image is shattered. Pack it up.] [Why is she acting like this today?] [Adults break down too, okay?] [Wait, were they actually dating?] The comments were getting wild. I had to stop this. I dialed the familiar number, pulling it out of the blacklist. “Hello,” I whispered. “Finally decided to call?” I could hear the smirk in her voice. Knowing she was the crybaby from the park killed her goddess mystique for me completely. “Did you get hacked?” “Nope. All me. Call me later and I’ll post worse.” She sounded proud. I gritted my teeth. “Fiona, what do you want?” “Break up with her.” “We aren’t together! What gives you the right to order me around?” “I’m not ordering… I…” Her voice softened. “Unblock me on WeChat. We can negotiate.” I unblocked her. Me: How much to delete the tweets? Fiona: You think I need money? Me: What do you want? Fiona: Come on a variety show with me. All this chaos for a show? Did she hit her head? She sent a poster. Let’s Travel Together. Season 3. It’s a slow-paced travel show. Five days. I needed a break anyway. Me: If I go, will you stop acting crazy? Fiona: Sign the contract, I delete the tweets. Fine. Let’s go.

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