My boss’s company went bankrupt. He took me out for one last meal. He clapped me on the shoulder, his voice thick with booze and irony. “Zoe, my girl,” he slurred, “if I end up starving on the street, I’m counting on you to feed me…” The joke hit me like a bucket of ice water. A shiver ran down my spine. He knows, I thought, my blood running cold. He knows I’m the richest man in Port City’s daughter. 1 His girlfriend had cleaned out the company accounts and run off with another man, leaving him with a mountain of debt. He had to sell everything just to break even. He even pawned his watch to make sure I got my final paycheck. “So… what are you going to do now, boss?” I asked, trying to sound casual. A cloud of despair settled over his face. “What else can I do? Crawl back to my hometown with my tail between my legs.” That couldn’t happen. Absolutely not. If he left, where would I ever find another boss who’d let me slack off and play video games at my desk without docking my pay? I had to make him stay. He was already several drinks in, shouting “To hell with love!” at the ceiling. He was definitely wasted. Suddenly, he turned, his eyes locking onto mine with a startling intensity. I flinched. “What? What is it?” He sighed, a long, mournful sound. “If only your dad was a billionaire.” Was this a hint? Was he testing me? “If my dad were a billionaire,” I said, forcing a laugh, “I’d definitely invest in your company. Ha ha.” He slammed his fist on the marble tabletop, his voice filled with righteous fury. “Invest? Screw investing! If you were a billionaire’s daughter, you’d make those two backstabbing traitors pay for what they did!” He grumbled, “Stealing my money… damn it, it makes me so mad.” Make them pay. Got it. Since he clearly knew who I was, I nodded eagerly. “Okay.” This was easy. “What kind of price did you have in mind?” He was on a roll now, ranting about his ex-girlfriend between swigs of whiskey. He said he wanted to see them exiled to some desolate mine in the middle of nowhere. Hmmm. Okay. Done. “And they took my house,” he wailed. “If your dad was a billionaire, he’d at least have to set me up with a mansion, right?” Consider it done. “And the investment…” he continued, slurring his words. “It would have to be… hic… at least fifty million!” A little on the low side, but if that’s all he wanted, fine. “And for you…” He hiccupped, trying to focus on me. “What… what do you want?” I blinked. “There’s something in it for me?” “Of course!” He waved his hand magnanimously. “From now on, you work three days a week, and you get a four-day weekend!” My eyes lit up. A four-day weekend? Okay, Operation: Save My Boss was officially a top priority. Every second I wasted, the chances of him actually leaving town increased. After downing two more cases of beer, he was practically unconscious. I grabbed his arm. “Where do you live? I’ll get you home.” “Home…?” he sobbed. “I don’t have a home anymore.” Right. I sighed. First rule of the new company: no more drinking. I hoisted him up, grunting with the effort. It looked like he was coming home with me. The things I do for a good slacking-off job. Some people want to revolutionize the workplace. I just want to save it. 2 That night, my boss christened my custom-designed Italian leather sofa with a torrent of vomit. I stared at the mess, my heart aching. The last time I’d had to replace this sofa was when I accidentally dropped a watermelon on it. After getting him settled on the now-defiled couch, I dialed my dad’s number. “Sweetheart?” He picked up on the first ring. I glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night. “Dad, you’re up late again,” I scolded. “I’ve told you a million times, work can wait until morning.” I’d called this late on purpose, just to check on him. Sure enough, he was pulling another all-nighter. He chuckled on the other end. “Alright, alright, you got me. But what has my little princess calling at this hour?” I explained the situation with my boss. When I finished, my dad just sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Tell him to check the news tomorrow morning.” After we hung up, I could hear my boss snoring from the living room. Well, time for bed. I went to my room and was asleep within minutes. I dreamt I found a magic lamp. A genie appeared. “You have freed me,” it boomed. “You may have three wishes.” I blinked, thought for a second, and nodded. “Okay. You can make them.” The genie stared at me. “…What?” Then I woke up. I was still pondering why the genie wouldn’t make a wish when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find my boss standing there, his face grim. “Something huge just happened.” I followed him into the living room, completely bewildered. He turned on the TV to the morning news. 【In a bizarre turn of events, the two fugitives who embezzled millions from a local tech firm have reportedly been sold into forced labor at a mine in a remote, war-torn country. They are now desperately appealing to the U.S. government for aid…】 Wow, my dad works fast. My boss stared at the screen, then pulled out his phone. His eyes widened. All the stolen money had been returned to his account. “Holy crap, Zoe,” he said, turning to me. He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, startling me so much I froze. “You’re my good luck charm!” he exclaimed. “I made a wish with you last night, and it came true this morning! You’re better than a magic lamp.” Hmm, maybe not a good luck charm, I thought. Maybe just really, really rich. I’d never seen him this happy before. I felt a little embarrassed. “Bankrupt? Bankrupt my ass! I’m making a comeback!” he declared, full of renewed vigor. “And from now on, you, my little good luck charm, are the official company mascot!” I beamed. “Do mascots get to slack off?” “Slack off? Hell, you can do more than that!” He grinned, patting his toned abs. “You can touch these anytime you want.” Oh. No, that’s quite alright. 3 My Boss’s Wish List: 1. Make the backstabbing traitors pay. 2. A mansion. 3. A fifty-million-dollar investment. He had his thirty million back, but this was New York City. Thirty million, especially company funds, wasn’t going to buy him a mansion. Luckily, my family’s real estate company had just finished a new luxury development. I’d just set aside the best villa for him. I called my dad and told him to have someone deliver the deed. He was baffled. “Honey, are you out of your mind? Why are you going to all this trouble for the owner of some tiny startup?” “You don’t get it,” I said righteously. “The feeling of getting paid to do nothing… it’s pure bliss!” “But why can’t you just relax at home?” my dad asked, ever the boomer. “Why do you even need a job?” “Hah,” I scoffed. “Do you know how boring it is to sit at home all day? But at work, it’s different. It’s the thrill of sneaking in moments of leisure. Even just playing a little online farming game feels like a victory.” “Then why not slack off at our company?” “No way. Then I’d be wasting my own family’s money.” “…” A few minutes after we hung up, my dad texted to say the lawyer was on his way with the transfer contract. Excellent. I leaned back on my newly delivered leather sofa and took a satisfying bite of watermelon. While the cat’s away, the mice will play. While the employees slack, the boss’s BMW becomes a bike. I was living the dream. My blissful reverie was interrupted by a video message from the lawyer. I opened it. The lawyer, dressed in a sharp suit, stood in front of my boss’s temporary apartment, holding a briefcase. He knocked. A moment later, my boss opened the door, looking groggy. “Who is it?” “Good morning,” the lawyer said, adjusting his glasses. “Are you the owner of Phoenix Corp?” “Nope, wrong address,” my boss mumbled. “Name’s Ethan Cole.” “Ah, yes, Mr. Cole,” the lawyer said, unfazed. “I have here the deed to Villa Number One at the Summit Estates, a gift from our Miss… from your benefactor. If you would please just sign here.” My boss took a step back. “You have the wrong guy. I’m the owner of Phoenix Corp.” And with that, he slammed the door in the lawyer’s face. A moment later, I could hear his muffled laughter through the door. “Hah! Nice try, scammers! I’ve got the National Anti-Fraud app on my phone!” The video ended. Below it was a pathetic message from the lawyer: 【Miss, I really tried. He almost called the cops on me.】 I… I didn’t know what to say. I guess on the bright side, my boss’s scam awareness had significantly improved. That’s progress, right? As I was pondering this, my phone rang. It was him. “Hahaha! Zoe, you won’t believe this! Some guy just came to my door trying to scam me, said he was giving me a mansion!” he crowed. “As if I’d fall for that! Who does he think I am?” “Right?” I said, trying to sound supportive. “Yeah… ” I hesitated. “…but what if it really was a mansion from me?” “No way,” he scoffed. “Are you secretly a billionaire’s daughter or something? You make three grand a month and you’ve never quit. You need the money more than anyone I know.” And just like that, you lost your mansion. “Anyway, get ready,” he said, the sound of keys jingling in the background. “I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. I finally got my baby back from the impound lot. We’re going to that seafood buffet you’ve been dying to try.” Dying to try? It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. Oh, he meant the restaurant my family owns. The one that costs eighteen hundred dollars a person. I’d booked our last team-building event there, thinking I was keeping the money in the family, and got an earful for it. I guess with over three hundred employees, it was a little over budget. He’d been convinced ever since that I was obsessed with the place. Well, a free meal is a free meal. And it gave me an idea of how to finally give him the mansion. I got ready, and ten minutes later, a car horn honked twice. I looked out the window. There he was, leaning against a McLaren, dressed in a flashy red jacket and sunglasses, looking like a total rockstar. That McLaren used to be mine. He’d always admired it, so I invented a reason to sell it to him for cheap. What can I say? He lets me slack off. He deserves it. 4 “Good evening, welcome.” A hostess greeted us as soon as we stepped out of the car. Her eyes widened in recognition when she saw me. “Miss…” “Ahem!” I coughed loudly. The hostess quickly corrected herself. “…Miss…ed you guys! So glad you could make it on this busy weekend.” My boss looked confused. “Missed who?” “Uh… the… weekend,” she stammered. “It’s… a big weekend. For us.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. I led the way to our table—Table 99, just as I’d arranged. I sat down and looked at him, my eyes shining. Sit down, sit down! Your mansion awaits! He looked at the table, then back at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ahem. Zoe.” “What is it?” “You know I just went through a breakup,” he said, his expression complicated. “I’m not really ready to jump into a new relationship right now…” “…?” I stared at him. “And?” I followed his gaze to the table setting… and oh, for the love of God. Who arranged this? I’m firing them. It was a table for two, complete with a single red rose and heart-shaped place cards. A “Lover’s Nook.” No wonder he looked so conflicted. “I didn’t notice,” I said quickly. “It’s just… a nice view. And 99 is my lucky number.” He looked relieved. “Oh. Good.” For some reason, I felt a little annoyed. A few minutes later, the hostess from the entrance came over to our table, her face a mask of exaggerated shock. “Oh my gosh! You’re at Table 99!” My boss looked at her. “Yeah? So what?” “Well, 99 is our lucky number!” she gushed. “You’ve just won our grand prize! A mansion in the Summit Estates!” I could feel a vein throbbing in my forehead. This was the worst acting I had ever seen. She might as well have had “THIS IS FAKE” tattooed on her forehead. Could she be any more over the top? And she couldn’t even come up with a different line than the one I’d just used? My boss’s eyes widened. “Really?” The hostess nodded vigorously, placing the contract on the table and handing him a pen. “Sign here!” Even an idiot wouldn’t fall for this. My boss grabbed the pen and scribbled his name, as if he was afraid she’d change her mind. Then he handed it to me. I… I sighed. I had clearly overestimated his intelligence. I signed my name without hesitation. If I didn’t, the whole charade would fall apart. The hostess, her mission accomplished, beamed and walked away, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she left. Great. Whoever hired her needs an eye exam. I’ll pay for it. I sighed again and turned back to my boss, only to find him staring at me with a strange, intense expression. Oh, no. I’d gotten carried away. Had he finally figured it out? A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. After a long moment, his eyes welled up with tears. “Zoe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “you really are my good luck charm!” “First the money comes back, now we win a mansion! At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if someone offered me a fifty-million-dollar investment tomorrow.” “Don’t worry,” he added, “this mansion is half yours. You’re moving in with me.” He paused, his expression turning serious again. “But you have to keep your distance. I’m really not looking for a relationship right now…” Oh, for crying out loud. How did this man ever manage to run a company?

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My crush of so many years was forced to marry me. Each time we made love, he’d fall silent and retreat to his study, refusing to come back to the bedroom. I didn’t want us to become one of those bitter, estranged couples, trapped in a loveless marriage. So tonight, after he left the bed, I picked up the divorce papers and went to find him. But as I reached for the doorknob, text began to materialize in the air before my eyes. 【LMAO, the ML still thinks he’s just a substitute who got lucky. He’s terrified our girl is going to dump him any second. The poor guy’s a nervous wreck! Hahaha…】 【Don’t you dare divorce him, sweetie! He’s hopelessly in love! He literally can’t live without you!】 【Who would’ve thought this six-foot-three giant is hiding in his study crying his eyes out just because he didn’t get any aftercare? LMAO!】 【If she opens that door right now, she’ll find him clutching a plushie that smells like her, trying to wipe away his tears.】 That last comment made me pause. Skeptical, but intrigued, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. 1 The study was plunged into darkness. I didn’t hesitate; I flicked on the light. The sight of Ethan made me freeze. The tip of his nose was red, his eyes were glistening, and a single tear clung to his thick lashes. Was this the same composed, rational Ethan I knew? All this time, I thought he was holing up in his study because he was disgusted by being intimate with me. He clearly hadn’t expected me to barge in. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “Why are you still up?” His tone was sharp, laced with an impatience that suggested my presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it weren’t for the tear track still glistening on his cheek, I might have actually believed he was angry. 【Don’t get it wrong, sweetie! He’s just worried that staying up late is bad for you.】 【Oh no, here he goes again, overthinking himself into a hole. He probably thinks his performance was so bad it didn’t even tire her out enough to sleep. (¬‿¬)】 The comments started flooding in, getting racier by the second. The explicit words made my face burn. I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What are you holding?” From the moment I’d walked in, he’d kept his hands behind his back, hiding something. I needed to see if the comments were telling the truth. “It’s… it’s nothing.” His eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t look me in the eye. I have a bit of a weakness for stuffed animals; my bed is practically overflowing with them. If he’d taken one, I honestly wouldn’t have noticed. He didn’t move, so I took a step forward to see for myself. To my shock, he flinched back, scrambling away from me as if I were a thief. There was no way I could see what he was hiding now. I held out my hand, my gaze locking with his. My voice was calm but firm. “Show me.” Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes, and hesitantly placed the object in my hand. It was one of my plushies. The comments were right. 2 My eyes went wide. For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. Before I could even process it, a new wave of comments caught my attention. 【This man-child is always crying. Sweetie just has to raise her voice a tiny bit and the waterworks start. So useless!】 【Hey, don’t be so hard on him. How tough can a guy who needs aftercare really be? Hahaha…】 I instinctively glanced back at Ethan. His head was bowed so low his chin was practically touching his chest. In the suffocating silence of the room, a tiny, choked sob was painfully audible. He was trying so hard to stifle his anguish, but his shoulders still trembled uncontrollably. Wait, I was just talking to him normally. I hadn’t even gotten mad about him taking my plushie. But his reaction, the way he was trying to cry without making a sound, made it seem like I’d just broken his heart. The comments said he thought I was yelling at him. Suddenly, I felt like the villain. Flustered, I softened my voice. “Please don’t cry. I wasn’t yelling at you.” At my words, his body went rigid. He spun around and fled into the adjoining bathroom, his voice a choked whisper as he went. “I’m not crying! You’re seeing things!” I stared at the closed door, the information from the comments swirling in my mind. So, Ethan had it all wrong. My ex-boyfriend was the substitute. Ethan was the one I’d wanted all along. 3 Back in college, I had a very brief, very ill-advised relationship. It was only because the guy looked a little like Ethan. It was a stupid, impulsive decision, and I realized quickly that using someone as a stand-in was a horrible thing to do. I broke it off. He moved abroad shortly after, and I pushed the whole ugly affair out of my mind. If it weren’t for the comments, I would have completely forgotten that ex-boyfriend even existed. Click. The bathroom door finally opened. Ethan had been in there for almost ten minutes. Now, aside from slightly reddened eyes and dampness in his bangs, he looked composed again. “Did you need something?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. His question snapped me back to the reason I’d come to the study in the first place. 【Hahaha, if she says yes, he’s going to start crying all over again.】 【If he cried that hard just from her raising her voice, he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown when he finds out she’s about to ask for a divorce.】 A jolt of guilt went through me. I discreetly tucked the divorce papers behind my back. I had assumed Ethan was miserable because our families had railroaded him into this marriage. But the comments painted a different picture: ever since our wedding, he’d been living in a constant state of fear, terrified that I would abandon him. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. It wasn’t unhappiness making him look so worn down; it was a nervous breakdown. And I’d misunderstood it all as resentment towards me. The guilt intensified. “I can’t sleep when you’re not there,” I said softly. A flicker of pure joy lit up his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. But just as quickly, some dark thought extinguished the light, and his expression fell. I cut through his spiraling thoughts, emphasizing each word. “Ethan. I can only sleep when you’re beside me.” 4 Perhaps it was the release of a good cry, or perhaps my words finally gave him a sense of security. Whatever the reason, Ethan slept more soundly that night than I’d ever seen him. He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t even stir when I gently traced the lines of his face, lost in thought. The comments said this was the first peaceful night’s sleep he’d had since we got married. Looking at his sleeping form, my heart felt heavy with a mix of emotions. I’d been in love with Ethan since my freshman year of high school. He was a campus legend—handsome, brilliant, a model student who was always kind to stray animals. Plenty of girls had crushes on him. I wasn’t a shy person by nature; in fact, I thrived on the debate team, always ready for an argument. But around him, I became a different person—cautious, tongue-tied, my courage always failing me. I even chose a university up north just to be near him. But even on the same campus, I never dared to make a move, terrified that one wrong word would mean losing the chance to even speak to him at all. Then, a few months ago, a twist of fate. Our mothers met, hit it off instantly, and decided they were destined to be family. They couldn’t be sisters, but they could be in-laws. And so, they set us up. I was shocked that someone like Ethan was still single, being pressured by his family to go on blind dates. When we met for dinner, he didn’t even seem to remember my name. He kept his head down the whole time, barely saying a word. But I knew this might be my only chance. Summoning all my courage, I carried the conversation, desperately searching for topics. Finally, I feigned a casual tone and said, “You know, we seem pretty compatible in a lot of ways. Maybe we should… give it a try?” The moment the words left my mouth, his brow furrowed, his expression turning grave. He looked utterly opposed to the idea. My heart sank. I braced myself for rejection. But then, Ethan looked up, and in a soft voice, he said, “Okay.” After the wedding, though, he was a different person. He was withdrawn and sullen during the day, and at night, he would disappear into his study after we were intimate. It screamed dissatisfaction. You can’t blame me for misinterpreting it. I had to fix this. We needed to have a real conversation, and soon. 5 When I woke up the next morning, Ethan had already made breakfast, finished his own plate, and was at the door putting on his shoes to leave for work. His schedule started earlier than mine. Normally, I would just walk out of the bedroom and sit down at the table, and we would eat in silence. But today, I broke the routine. I walked straight to the entryway. Ethan’s hand froze on the doorknob. He looked up, flustered and confused. “Is the breakfast not to your liking? I can run down and buy something else.” I quickly reached out and took his arm. “No, that’s not it.” 【Is she going to ask for a divorce now?? Please no!】 【Sweetie, you’re making a huge mistake! A guy who’s a king in the boardroom and a chef in the kitchen is a rare find!】 I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little shy. “It’s just… usually, before a husband leaves for work, he gives his wife a goodbye kiss.” Hearing this, Ethan became even more flustered than I was. His gaze darted away as he stammered, “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. S-so, I’m just gonna…?” “Mhm.” The word was barely out of my mouth before I felt a slight whoosh of air, followed by a feather-light touch on my forehead. It was over in a second. “I’m heading to work,” he said, his words rushed as he turned back to the door. “Wait.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. My earlier shyness had vanished, replaced by a playful urge to tease him. I looked him straight in the eye, watching his reaction. “Not so fast. The wife hasn’t given the husband his goodbye kiss yet.” And with that, I stood on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ethan’s entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears flushed a deep crimson. As he finally stumbled out the door, he was so flustered he was practically tripping over his own feet. 【Starting the day with sugar! I’m gonna get a cavity!】 【Our girl knows exactly what she’s doing! YES!】 【LMAO, he’s leaning against the door outside, catching his breath! That’s kinda hot!】 6 Love really does turn you into an idiot. I spent the entire day in a daze, and at least three different colleagues asked me what I was smiling about. I kept seeing the word “aftercare” pop up in the comments. That was the reason he was hiding in his study, crying. I couldn’t let that happen again. A quick search online confirmed it. People who need aftercare often struggle with insecurity. The intimacy can trigger anxiety, making them fear they didn’t perform well enough and leaving them desperate for reassurance. I blushed as I summarized my findings into one simple strategy: praise him. We were intimate almost every night, except when I had my period. So I spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous anticipation, mentally rehearsing a script of compliments. 【And… we’re blacked out again!】 【Why does it always go dark at the good parts?! (sobbing)】 The comments were a chorus of complaints. Thank god they couldn’t see me right now, or I’d die of embarrassment. When we were finished, Ethan buried his face in the crook of my neck, lingering there for a long moment. Tentatively, I ran my fingers through his hair, then gently rubbed his earlobe. “You were… really good tonight.” It was my first time comforting someone like this, and I had no idea what I was doing. My voice was uncertain. But I felt his body tense, his breath catching in his chest. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. “I love it when you hold me,” I murmured. “It makes me feel so safe. Can you hold me tighter?” He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me. “I want to see you now, okay?” He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were shining, bright and adoring, like a puppy seeing its owner after a long time away. Practice makes perfect. My shyness completely evaporated. I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered with a smile, “I love you so much.” His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly buried his head against me again, too embarrassed to look at me. After a long moment, a muffled voice vibrated against my ear. “Me too.” 7 【What’s going on? Why was it blacked out all night? We didn’t even get the study scene!】 【I know why! It’s because he didn’t go to the study to cry! Our girl must have… (smirks)】 【No wonder he’s acting so weird today. He keeps sneaking glances at her and smiling to himself.】 【A well-cared-for man is a different breed. He’s practically a delicate flower.】 A delicate flower? Looking at him now, it kind of fit. His cheeks were flushed, and he was bustling around the house in a pink apron. It was the weekend, and for the past two days, I had transformed into a praise-spewing machine. “Everything you cook is amazing! A five-star restaurant should be trying to hire you!” “You mop the floor better than a robot! The robots are going to be out of a job at this rate!” “The clothes you wash by hand smell even better than when they come out of the machine…” I was starting to run out of material, but Ethan was just getting more and more energized. He polished a single water glass eight times, then casually placed it in my line of sight, waiting. Just waiting for my praise. I was finally starting to understand why all the teachers and parents adored him. On Monday morning, when I got up, Ethan was already dressed and ready for work, looking at me with an expectant expression. I pretended not to notice. I said my goodbyes and waited for him to leave. Over the weekend, I’d noticed something about Ethan: he was incredibly good at taking care of others, but terrible at expressing his own needs. He bottled everything up. He wanted praise, but he’d wait for me to offer it. If I didn’t, he’d just quietly walk away and be sad by himself. Sure enough, when the goodbye kiss he was hoping for didn’t come, his whole posture slumped. But he still wouldn’t ask for it. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” I asked, my voice gentle, trying to coax it out of him. He just shook his head, forcing a weak smile. “Goodbye.” I sighed softly. I had no doubt that the second that door closed, tears would start streaming down his face. The image of him trying to wipe his eyes on the way to work made my heart melt. I grabbed his arm just as he was stepping out the door. Just as I’d suspected. He wasn’t even gone yet, and his eyes were already glistening with unshed tears. I looked directly into his watery eyes and asked, “Do you want a kiss? If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you don’t.” As I made a show of letting go, he quickly grabbed my hand back, his head bobbing in a series of frantic nods. “Yes!” 8 With my deliberate encouragement, Ethan slowly started asking for things he wanted. Our relationship grew closer and closer. Until one afternoon, I was walking across campus with a thick stack of files when I stumbled, sending papers scattering across the pavement. A hand reached down to help me gather them, then took the rest of the stack from my arms. I was about to thank the person when I looked up and saw a familiar face. My whole body went stiff. Standing in front of me was my ex-boyfriend, Trent, who had been abroad for years. “Long time no see,” he said with a smirk. “I heard you got married.” He paused, his eyes raking over me. “I also heard… the guy looks a lot like me.” He had changed. The Trent in front of me was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, every trace of his student days gone. But that innate swagger, that hint of a troublemaker, was still there. He had a fresh buzz cut that was just starting to grow out, and he still wore the same silver stud in his left ear. The suit on that face just looked… wrong. So out of place, I thought, rolling my eyes internally. I’d met Trent at a debate tournament; we were good at arguing, even with each other. Our breakup had been messy. Yes, I had dumped him for no apparent reason after less than two weeks, but he had his faults too. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention that he’d skipped a grade and was a full two years younger than me. I nearly had an aneurysm when I found out. Aside from a five-out-of-ten resemblance in their brow and eyes, he and Ethan were polar opposites. Ethan was the model student every teacher loved; Trent was the headache they all dreaded. What was I even thinking back then? 【Whoa! Nobody told me the second male lead was this hot!】 【Our ML is a feast for the eyes, but the SML isn’t half bad either.】 【Team SML! Pick Trent! Pick Trent!】 The comments flipped their allegiance so fast it gave me whiplash. This morning they were begging me to kiss Ethan more, and now they’d completely jumped ship. I snatched my files back, glaring at Trent. “Who have you been listening to?” He chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at me with an I-knew-it expression. “I told you back then, I never go back on my word, especially not for a woman as fickle and self-centered as you—” “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Your Majesty. Stop.” I cut him off, not in the mood for his drama. I plastered on a fake smile, gave him a massive eye-roll, and turned to leave. For some reason, despite my attitude, he didn’t get angry. He fell into step beside me, continuing his monologue. “But I never imagined you’d be so obsessed with me that you’d marry my look-alike. Look, I’m a reasonable guy, more patient than you are. A substitute is just a substitute. Now that I’m back, you can— Hey, why’d you stop walking?” I’d been trying to let his words go in one ear and out the other, but he was getting more and more ridiculous. I was about to tell him not to flatter himself when a single comment froze me in place. 【The ML is here.】 9 I didn’t have time to argue with Trent. This was the absolute worst time for Ethan to see him. After getting my doctorate, I’d stayed on as a faculty member. I had already called Ethan and asked him to pick me up so we could go shopping for groceries. I knew the university was hosting an alumni symposium today, and Trent must have been an invited speaker. The campus is huge. I never thought my luck would be this bad. “You remember where the faculty offices in Building C are, right? Fourth floor,” I asked, trying to sound casual. Trent opened his mouth to say something, but I was out of patience. I shoved the entire stack of files into his arms. “If you don’t remember, ask someone. Take these there for me. I have to go. Goodbye forever.” I fired off the words and immediately started speed-walking towards the main gate. But as I rounded the first corner, I came face-to-face with Ethan. My heart hammered against my ribs. Panicked, I grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the exit. 【This is so intense.】 【Aw, that’s it? I was hoping for a showdown.】 The comments clearly didn’t care about my survival. I hadn’t found the right time to tell Ethan about my past, and if Trent found out he was the substitute, he would throw a fit of epic proportions. I didn’t have the energy for that. Thank god I’d moved fast. They had missed each other by seconds.

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Dubbed the “Queen of Cutesy,” I’m blessed with a bombshell figure but cursed with a syrup-sweet voice that sparks hate with every word. After a year as the internet’s punching bag, I finally broke on a live show when accused of being shameless. Grabbing the A-list actor beside me, I sobbed, “I told you I wasn’t faking it!” The sharp-tongued actor froze, his neck flushing crimson as he awkwardly patted my head. The web fell silent, then erupted: 【Wait, she’s for real?】 【Why is he blushing?!】 【LMAO, the cynic’s spine melted from her voice!】 01 I’ve had this voice since I was a kid. I also hit puberty way too early. Because of it, my father acted like he wanted to strangle me in my sleep, and my mother said I was born to be nothing but trouble for men. Later, a talent scout spotted me, drawn in by my looks, and I was signed to an entertainment agency. When I debuted, my agent, Liz, was practically vibrating with confidence. “With this body? This face? We just need to strike a pose and we’ll be trending in seconds!” she’d declared, slapping her chest for emphasis. She cackled, convinced I was destined to be a superstar. But everyone, including her, had fatally underestimated the destructive power of my voice. A full year later, my reputation was in the gutter. It got to the point where I couldn’t even open my mouth without people rolling their eyes. 【Skylar Song is the fakest of the fake! If she’d just own the femme fatale look, I’d at least give her a second glance. Why is she so obsessed with this sweet-girl persona?】 【NGL, I thought it was cute at first, but it gets really annoying when it’s non-stop.】 【Can she just shut up? If she wants to seduce men so bad, she can go work at a club. Stop polluting the internet!】 The comments were relentless, one nastier than the next. But I was a coward. All I could do was bite down on my blanket at night, forcing the tears back down. Liz tried to console me. “Hey, bad press is still press! Listen to me, kid. That contrast you’ve got? The body and the voice? If you just lean into it, you’re gonna be rich. You hear me? Rich!” A sob escaped me. “You mean the kind of rich where I get revenge-rich?” Liz was a fiery New Yorker with a notoriously short fuse. After a year of managing me, she claimed she’d developed enough patience to get a kindergarten teaching license. My voice, as she put it, made women scream and men… well, it did things to men. The problem was, the contrast was so stark that nobody believed it was real. The damn internet trolls even had the audacity to say she had bad taste, forcing a perfectly good femme fatale into a cutesy mold. Who was going to stand up for her?! Liz seethed. “I pulled every string I had, called in every favor to get you a spot on this huge reality show. This time, I swear, I’m taking back what’s mine!” She was convinced that once people saw me up close, I’d win them all over, men and women alike. She let out a low, scheming chuckle, lost in her own fantasy world. 02 But before the show even started, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. #A-List Actor Liam Vance Slams Skylar Song’s Voice As Disgusting# #SkylarSongTheFaker# The topic was pinned to a video of Liam streaming his video game, a clip that had been reposted over a million times in half an hour. In the video, his teammate was dragging the whole team down. After feeding the enemy team several kills, the guy apologized in a strained, nasally voice. Liam just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, before tearing into him. “Whoa, what’d you do, swallow a handful of syrup? That’s some serious baby-voice you’re forcing.” “If you don’t know how to talk, then shut up. Don’t sit there whining. Your mouth is like a busted faucet, just spraying nonsense everywhere.” Liam Vance was a brilliant actor, the youngest to ever win the prestigious Phoenix Award, but his reputation was… complicated. His tongue was sharper than a razor blade, a master of backhanded compliments and outright insults that made his fans both love and hate him. Normally, this would have nothing to do with me. But then Tricia Stone, a popular starlet, dropped a comment under the video. 【His voice is so sweet! Just like Skylar from our cast.】 Her vague, innocent-sounding words twisted and turned as they spread, and suddenly, the internet’s full firepower was aimed directly at my social media accounts. 【I knew that fake-sweet voice sounded familiar. It’s the industry’s queen of cutesy, Skylar Song!】 【Who else could it be? She’s the only one that obnoxious. And she had the nerve to do it in front of Liam? Everyone knows he’s the most savage critic in the business.】 【Idk, it doesn’t really sound like her. Skylar’s voice is a little over the top, but it’s not that grating. Stop jumping on the bandwagon!】 【^^ Skylar’s PR team working overtime? If it’s not her, who is it? Tricia? No way. Tricia is famously as sweet as she sounds. You can’t even compare the two!】 The internet was a cesspool of hate. Trolls dug up every clip of me speaking, reposting them like exhibits in a criminal trial. I was just sitting at home, and suddenly I was public enemy number one. Liz was about to have an aneurysm. “That goddamn Tricia is the real faker! Don’t think I can’t tell just because she has an innocent little face!” she raged. “I bet that was her in the game, and she threw you under the bus because she was scared of getting caught!” Even though I’d been bullied for my voice my whole life, this was the first time I’d ever been dragged so publicly, trending for all the wrong reasons. I felt like I was dying. I just lay on my bed, a human-shaped lump of misery. Then, my phone buzzed. “Sky, get online! Your big bro is gonna carry you to victory, and we’re gonna metaphorically slap Liam Vance across the face!” 03 Ethan is one of the biggest names in the voice-acting world. We met back in college when we were both doing part-time voice-over work. He was furious on my behalf. “Damn it, Sky, your voice is amazing. Is Liam deaf or just an ass? What gives him the right to talk like that!” Tears of gratitude streamed down my face. I swore in that moment that I would be his loyal sidekick for life. Before I could even process it, Ethan had dragged me into a game and matched us with Liam. My fingers fumbled over the controls. I was, to put it mildly, terrible at the game. A flurry of frantic, useless movements resulted in a spectacular kill-death ratio of zero to five. Liam’s voice, tight with frustration, crackled through my headset. “Just uninstall the game. Go play Candy Crush or something. You’re so bad you’re single-handedly carrying the other team.” The live-stream chat exploded with laughter. 【Did Liam step in something nasty before he logged on tonight? His teammate luck is trash.】 【I bet it’s another girl. Is she about to start apologizing in a baby-voice too? LOL】 Ethan was losing his mind on the phone. “Say something back! What did I bring you here for? If you don’t fight back, you let them trash you for nothing tonight!” His words lit a fire under me. I fumbled to turn on my mic. But I’d only ever been on the receiving end of insults. After a few stutters, all I could manage was a weak, “So what?” Ethan almost coughed up a lung. “Okay, listen! Repeat after me, word for word!” I nodded like a bobblehead, stumbling through the lines he fed me. “Did I eat your rice? Why are you so obsessed with me?” “If you can’t stand me, feel free to die before I do!” “Was I talking to you? No? Then shut your mouth!” I was just getting into the rhythm of it when Ethan suddenly went silent. I froze. What was next? After a moment of stunned silence, it was Liam’s voice that came through, stammering. “I’m… sorry.” On the screen, the tips of his ears looked a little red. “Another round? Want to duo?” Aaaaaah! My toes curled in on themselves from secondhand embarrassment. My hand twitched, and I slammed the ‘exit game’ button. 04 I may have fled the scene, but I left a firestorm in my wake. 【OMG, so sweet! Who could resist a voice like that?!】 【Wait, she just insulted him and ran? Who taught her that move? Didn’t she see our boy Liam was totally stunned?!】 【I’m dying, what a complete 180! He was not acting like this thirty minutes ago. But to be fair, that girl’s voice is ridiculously cute.】 Even crazier, Liam posted an apology on his official account for his behavior. 【I was too harsh tonight. Don’t take it to heart…】 He had no idea it was me, so I dropped a casual reply. 【It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s only on the level of being randomly blamed for something I didn’t do.】 I’d already gotten my revenge, so what did it matter? Maybe because I was still a nobody, I had no idea what kind of influence an A-list actor really had. My one careless reply nearly got my entire family tree cursed by his fans. My notifications and DMs exploded. 【You? Skylar Song, you have the nerve to piggyback on his fame?】 【Do you have any idea how much everyone hates your voice? The audacity to say that wasn’t you.】 【It’s pretty easy to tell the difference between a naturally sweet voice and a fake one, okay?】 The hateful comments kept pouring in. But among them, I noticed a brand-new account, a level-zero user, fighting back on my behalf. 【Her voice is sweet! What’s it to you?】 【So what if it was her? I like it!】 【You call her a faker? What does that make you? A-grade loser?】 【Damn it, if my main account wasn’t banned, I’d roast you so hard your ancestors would feel it!】 This anonymous hero was attacking every negative comment with a vicious, take-no-prisoners style that was… strangely familiar. It almost sounded like… Liam? I shook the thought out of my head. My heart swelled with gratitude. Like a thief in the night, I snuck through the comment section, leaving a few ‘likes’ on his replies. A true bro, I thought. A friend in need. 05 The drama simmered online all night, cementing my reputation not only as the industry’s Queen of Cutesy, but also as a shameless clout-chaser. So, the next day at the studio, Tricia Stone looked at me with an extra dose of arrogance. She sashayed past me, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Skylar, you didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” I was confused. “I slept great.” Her expression soured instantly. She shot me a venomous glare and stormed off. For the rest of the morning, Tricia seemed determined to trip me up at every turn. Maybe because I was used to being my parents’ punching bag my whole life, I was completely unfazed. But my indifference only made her more furious. I stood “innocently” outside her dressing room, listening to the chaos erupting within. It was Tricia and her agent, Wes. “I told you to make your voice sweeter, cuter! Were you even listening to me? Look at the mess you made last night!” Wes yelled. Tricia sounded like she was at her breaking point. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get matched with that monster Liam in a random game! And besides, I fixed it, didn’t I? The internet totally believes it was Skylar Song. There’s no way they’ll figure out it was me!” “It only worked because Skylar’s reputation is already trash! Otherwise, who would believe that god-awful screeching was her?” Wes was practically tearing his hair out. “I told you to learn from Skylar! Look at her! Her voice is so sweet, so natural. Why can she do it and you can’t?! Half of your fame is built on this sweet-girl persona! Do you even understand what that means?!” He groaned, a truly pathetic sound of masculine despair. “Aaargh! Why can’t there be a person with Tricia Stone’s face and Skylar Song’s voice! Do you know how stressful it is for me, living in constant fear that you’ll be exposed?!” Tricia’s face turned black. The sweet act was gone. “Screw you, Wes! So what if I can’t beat Skylar? You’re such a clueless idiot!” BAM! The dressing room door flew open, and I was face-to-face with a fuming Tricia. A wicked impulse took over me. I let out a long, melodic whistle. I watched as her face flushed a deep crimson, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “You… you…! How much did you hear?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You. Are. Faking. It.” 06 It was like I’d flicked the switch on a boiling kettle. Tricia started hopping on the spot, almost screaming. “So what? So what? So what! Did I eat your rice?! Just you wait! Next month, I’ll show you! I’ll make the whole world see who the true Greek Goddess of the Baby Voice is!” I raised my hand meekly. “Actually, the internet is calling mine a ‘hiccup-voice’ now.” Tricia froze. “Where did you train? Ugh, no, I mean, how the hell did you change it up again?!” I deadpanned, making it up on the spot. “The Siren’s Song Academy. Mastered about forty percent of the technique. It’s all in the soft palate.” She glared, spitting out a final threat. “You just wait! I’m signing up!” … Hahahahahaha! Oh my god, I was holding in my laughter so hard I could barely breathe. I was wondering just how she planned to “show me,” when the answer arrived. The official cast list for the reality show Liz got me was announced. And Tricia was on it. It was, without a doubt, a legendary lineup. Male guests: The award-winning actor Liam Vance, renowned voice actor Ethan Cole, and pop king Julian Croft. Female guests: It-girl Tricia Stone, veteran actress Carla Vance. And then there was me, Skylar Song, the industry’s resident faker. I stuck out like a sore thumb. The internet, of course, noticed immediately. 【Is this a joke? How did Skylar Song sneak in here?】 【Slept her way in, probably.】 【How does she still have the nerve to show up? Liam already called her out for faking her voice. Does she have no shame?】 【Don’t worry, our boy Liam will handle it. He probably won’t be able to stand it the second she opens her mouth.】 They were right about one thing. But what the internet didn’t know yet was that Liam, indeed, couldn’t stand it. Just not in the way they thought. 07 On the way to meet the show’s production team, I ran into Ethan. “I thought you hated this kind of stuff,” I asked, curious. Ethan was a giant in the voice-acting world, but after three years in the industry, he rarely did interviews. Most people didn’t even know that behind the god-tier voice was a total goofball. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “Couldn’t let you face Liam alone, could I? How about it, impressed? Don’t worship me, kid. I’m just a legend.” He gave me a smarmy wink and, in his best “brooding CEO” voice, asked what I thought. Before I could answer, a scornful chuckle echoed from behind us. “Greasy.” Liam strode past us, moving so quickly he seemed to purposely bump Ethan’s shoulder. I shrank back, exchanging a look with Ethan. “Did I do something to him again? I didn’t even say anything.” “Nah, he’s probably just salty.” Ethan and I huddled together, whispering. From behind us, Liam’s assistant was shouting. “Liam, my man, would you look back for one second! You forgot your assistant!” He sprinted toward us, the ten pounds of extra weight on his belly jiggling violently. He was panting like an old steam engine. “Hah… huff… wheeze! Damn it, who knows what crawled up his butt today. Seriously, who is the one working this stupid job anyway!” 08 The show was being broadcast live, so Liz had given me a strict lecture about my behavior. “Listen to me, kid. Be sweet. Call everyone ‘bro’ and ‘sis,’ you got it? You’re not gonna let me down, right?!” I nodded with a grim certainty. “…Of course not, Liz. You can count on me to make things worse.” Pain. First, I had the entire internet convinced my voice was a crime against humanity. Then, I had Tricia threatening to expose me in front of millions. And caught in the middle was Liam, the A-list actor who had publicly called “me” a faker. This was a terrible start. I was so doomed I didn’t even have the energy to protest. Everyone expected me to fail, and I had no intention of proving them wrong. Everyone thought I was a joke, and honestly, I was. And to top it all off… The game hadn’t even begun, and I was already about to die. My eyes widened in horror as I pointed at myself. “Why me?!” A smiling crew member clipped a microphone and a tiny camera to my collar. She patted my head, surprised to find that I felt like a soft, fluffy piece of cake. A wave of maternal affection washed over her. “There, there, sweetie. You were the first one awake, so the director wants you to go wake up Liam.” The truth was, the director had smelled the sweet scent of viral drama from our recent trending topic. The viewers who had tuned in early were treated to this juicy scenario right off the bat. The live chat exploded. 【Grab your popcorn, people, this is gonna be good! Don’t go back to sleep!】 【LMAO, the producers are evil! Everyone knows Liam has a temper when he wakes up. Poor Skylar is about to get yelled at until she cries.】 【Hey, she has a name. Stop calling her that. Honestly, I think her voice is perfectly sweet.】 【You guys, seeing her up close… Skylar is even prettier. And that figure, I’m so jealous I could cry. If it weren’t for all the bad press, I think I’d be a fan!】 Even I, who tried to avoid social media, had seen the viral clips of Liam’s legendary morning crankiness. Oh god. Just kill me now.

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My husband has been acting strange lately. His hugs are stiff, his kisses clumsy, and our time in bed… let’s just say it’s been a disaster. I was starting to wonder if he wanted a divorce, but then I stumbled upon his browser history and found a recent post he’d made: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] Me: “?” 1 “You’re back.” My eyes lifted to the man standing in the entryway. He held his custom-tailored suit jacket in one hand, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even his hair, usually styled to perfection, was a mess, sticking up in every direction. He looked less like he’d just returned from a business trip and more like he’d just survived a bar fight. I shot up from the couch. “Did things go badly at work? What happened to you?” Liam Bernstein didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at me. His gaze was so intense, so fixed, it felt like he was trying to memorize every line on my face. I couldn’t help but walk over to him. I hooked a finger around his loosened tie and gently pulled him inside, my voice laced with a playful complaint. “What’s the matter? Forget what I look like after just a few days away?” He let me lead him a few steps before he finally stammered, “N-no. I remember.” I glanced back at him. His eyes were still locked on me, wide and unblinking. There was a raw hunger in them, but it was mixed with a wide-eyed innocence, the kind you’d see in a teenager. I shot him a playful glare, then wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. “You missed me that much, huh?” The man in my arms went rigid, his breathing shallowing to a near halt. His eyes darted around nervously, his lips pressed into a thin line, hands clenched into tight fists. He looked like a saint trying to resist temptation. I found this new version of Liam… fascinating. Usually, after a business trip, he was the one who turned into a wolf the second he walked through the door. I planted a soft kiss on the sharp line of his Adam’s apple, then whispered into his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Weren’t you the one on the phone promising to completely wreck me when you got home?” I held him tighter, feeling his body tense up even more, and softened my voice to a purr. “So, husband… how exactly are you going to wreck me?” The proximity was too much. I felt the immediate, unmistakable shift in his body. My hand was just beginning to drift downwards when he suddenly shoved me away. I stared at him, stunned. His entire face was a deep shade of crimson. When he spoke, his voice was so hoarse it sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I, uh… I haven’t showered yet…” And with that, he practically bolted into the nearest room—my office—and slammed the door shut. I was left standing there, utterly bewildered. 2 Rejected and confused, I curled up on the sofa to sulk. He was always the one complaining that I wasn’t proactive enough. But the one time I decided to take the lead, he was the one to turn me down. What was wrong with him? Fine, I fumed silently, I’m never speaking to him again. Just as I made that vow, I heard a noise. The office door creaked open. Liam peeked out, shot a furtive glance in my direction, and then scurried into our bedroom like a thief in the night. I raised an eyebrow. Even though I was still annoyed, my curiosity won. I followed him. Wouldn’t you know it, the second I reached the bedroom, he ducked into the master bathroom. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on, the sound of the water a poor attempt to cover his escape. He was definitely hiding from me. Resigned, I walked to the bathroom door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t turn. He’d locked it. Okay, now I was certain. Liam was actively avoiding me. He never locked the door. He was the kind of man who’d lounge in the bathtub and call out with a teasing grin, “Honey, you sure you don’t want to join me?” Standing outside the locked door, I had a rare moment of self-doubt. Was I too aggressive just now? But compared to how Liam usually was with me, what I did was nothing. Wasn’t he always the one showering me with kisses and pulling me into his arms? Wasn’t he the one who would turn our world upside down for days on end? The one who left me so sore I couldn’t get out of bed? And now? I make one move, and he acts like I’m the plague? My annoyance flared into full-blown anger. I swore to myself that when he finally came out, I was going to make him pay. I ended up waiting for a full hour. When Liam finally emerged, his earlier awkwardness was gone. He looked composed as he said my name. “Chloe.” I just grunted, keeping my back to him. He rushed to my side, a stream of apologies tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just… I froze for a second. You know, we haven’t seen each other in days, and I missed you so much…” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me gently. The familiar sensation started to melt my anger. I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can get off that easily.” “You can stay mad. It’s okay.” He looked at me, his eyes shining like an eager puppy’s. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of disconnect. The Liam I knew would never look at me like this. It wasn’t that his gaze lacked love before, but his love had always been intertwined with a fierce, possessive desire. Now, that desire was still there, but it was swimming in a sea of pure, almost boyish adoration. My hand instinctively rose to cup his cheek. “What is going on with you?” “Nothing.” He wrapped his arms around me loosely, resting his chin on my shoulder. He sounded like he was whispering a secret to himself. “I’m just… I’m so happy.” He let out a sigh, a soft, wondering sound. “I can’t believe you’re my wife. I’m the luckiest man alive.” I gently pushed him back. “We’ve been married for almost two years. Isn’t it a little late for that kind of talk?” “It’s never too late,” he insisted, a playful stubbornness in his voice. “I could say it every day for the rest of my life, and it would never be too late.” His sweet words worked. My anger evaporated, and I generously pressed my lips against his. I held them there for a full ten seconds. He didn’t move. Not an inch. I peeked through one eye. Liam’s expression was one of pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. His face was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—he desperately wanted to kiss me back but was terrified to try. My lips still on his, I murmured, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” “Yes. I am. I want to.” As he spoke, his lips unconsciously began to move against mine. It was like a switch had been flipped. He started to kiss me, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, but something still felt… off. Why is he kissing me like it’s his first time? He doesn’t even know how to breathe! I opened my eyes again. Seeing the raw excitement on his face, I didn’t have the heart to stop him. Oh, well. I guess even a clumsy, hungry kiss has its own charm. 3 I magnanimously forgave all of Liam’s bizarre behavior, but he just kept getting weirder. The weirdest part? He stopped touching me. This was a massive red flag. Since the day we got married, the man had the libido of a rabbit. Suddenly, he’d turned into a monk, and frankly, I wasn’t used to it. We’d be lying in the same bed. I’d inch closer to him. His breathing would quicken, but he wouldn’t touch me. I’d wrap my arms around him. His body would react, but he still wouldn’t touch me. It was like he’d become a master of self-control overnight, practicing celibacy as if he were saving himself for someone. This sudden chill in our marriage was driving me crazy. I called my best friend, Zoe, and dragged her out for drinks. I avoided talking about Liam, rambling about everything else, but she saw right through me. “Why hasn’t Liam called you yet?” she asked with a teasing grin. “Normally, whenever you’re out, your phone is blowing up with his texts and calls. What’s up? Did you two have a fight?” I pursed my lips and took a bitter sip of my wine. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Zoe scoffed. “Anyone with eyes can see that man is head-over-heels for you.” That was all it took. The floodgates opened, and I told her everything—all of his strange behavior, with a special emphasis on his newfound vow of chastity. “What could possibly make him act like that?” I finished, taking another angry gulp of wine. “He’s practically sleeping on the far edge of the bed, like he’s afraid I’ll bite!” “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said, trying to soothe me. “Maybe… maybe there’s something he’s not telling you? Something he’s embarrassed about?” My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: he couldn’t perform anymore. But then I remembered the very obvious evidence to the contrary. He was more than capable; he was just choosing to endure the torture rather than touch me. “He was on that business trip in France, right?” Zoe continued. “I heard things can get a little rough over there. What if he got hurt and is afraid to tell you?” That thought hadn’t occurred to me. “He wouldn’t want you to worry, you know? That makes total sense. And you said his flight back was delayed by two days… what if it was because he needed medical attention? That would also explain why he’s been avoiding you…” She sounded so certain. “That has to be it.” Her words echoed in my head. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rush home, strip Liam naked, and inspect every inch of his body for myself. It was past eleven when I got home. As I opened the door, Liam, who had been waiting on the sofa, jumped up and rushed toward me. But as he got closer, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been drinking?” If you were so worried, why didn’t you call me once? I thought bitterly. I brushed past his outstretched hand, but he was persistent, steadying me and guiding me to the couch. A moment later, he returned with a glass of honey water. I stared at him intently. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head, looking completely baffled. “No. Of course not.” “Then take off your clothes.” His face instantly turned scarlet. He hesitantly lifted the hem of his pajama shirt, then dropped it, his fingers fumbling. He repeated the motion a few times, paralyzed by indecision. I narrowed my eyes. “What, you won’t even let me see your abs anymore?” He stopped hesitating. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt over his head. The torso revealed before me was flawless, ripped enough to be on a magazine cover. There wasn’t a single scratch or bruise, nothing like Zoe had suggested. I glared at him. “The pants, too.” “Ch-Chloe…” “Now.” He reluctantly complied, his movements awkward and shy. I stared at the man standing before me, vulnerable and flushed, and I finally snapped. I pushed him back onto the sofa, planting my hands on his shoulders and pinning him down. “Liam,” I demanded, “what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked up at me, a mix of shock and shyness in his eyes. “I… I don’t think anything’s wrong with me.” “Then prove it.” My voice dropped to a low, suggestive whisper as I looked into his panicked eyes. “Don’t make me think less of you.” Liam’s gaze met mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Just when I thought he was going to back down again, his hand shot up to cup the back of my head, and he crashed his lips against mine in a wild, desperate kiss. 4 As it turns out, you should never challenge a man’s pride. Driven by his fear of disappointing me, Liam spent the entire night proving himself. He went from clumsy and reckless to skilled and confident, and his performance was, to put it mildly, breathtaking. At the time, I was too busy—and too exhausted—to think about it too deeply. But the next morning, as I lay in bed, every muscle aching, all the strange pieces started clicking into place. Last night, Liam hadn’t been the mature, experienced husband I’d known for two years. He’d been more like a fumbling teenager who had just lost his virginity. He had no experience, no technique. His hands were shaking when he tried to put on the condom; he couldn’t find the right spot, and he almost finished before we even started. I’d had the urge to kick him off the bed, but seeing the sweat on his brow and the panicked look in his eyes, I’d held back. He eventually found his rhythm, even getting back to his usual impressive standard, but still… It was so, so strange. How could a man so skilled in the bedroom suddenly lose all his talent overnight? I turned it over and over in my mind, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Just then, the man in question pushed the door open and walked in. He was wearing a set of comfortable, loose-fitting loungewear. He’d clearly just showered; his hair was still damp, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead. It was a messy look, but it gave him an unexpected, boyish charm. Looking at him, I felt a wave of cognitive dissonance. He was both familiar and a complete stranger. Liam sat on the edge of the bed, a tray in his hands holding a bowl of white porridge. “Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Eat a little something for now. We can have a proper meal later.” “Feed me,” I said quietly. “My arms are sore.” The tips of his ears turned bright red, but he calmly picked up the spoon and brought it to my lips. The porridge was the perfect temperature, but it was bland. He hadn’t added any sugar. I snuck a glance at him. Liam was meticulous about details; forgetting something as simple as sugar was completely out of character. The seed of doubt in my mind grew larger. After a few tasteless spoonfuls, I stared at his crimson ears and couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you blushing?” Liam lowered his gaze. “Your… your clothes are a little messy.” I looked down. He had dressed me in a silk slip dress after we were done. One of the straps had fallen off my shoulder, revealing a swath of skin and a constellation of faint red marks. I was even more confused. “So what?” He reached out and gently adjusted the strap, his movements so careful it was as if he were afraid to touch my skin. I placed my hand over his, pressing it firmly against my shoulder. “We’re a married couple. Is there anything you haven’t seen?” Liam’s eyes widened in a flustered blink. The strangeness was overwhelming. I finally decided to just ask him directly. “What is wrong with you? You won’t kiss me, you won’t touch me… It’s like you’re a completely different person. Are you even my husband anymore?” “I am! I’m your husband.” “Then why are you stuttering?” It took him a few seconds to react. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me, clearly trying to shut me up. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily. I pushed him back, my voice cold. “I want an explanation. Now.” Liam’s eyes fell. “A lot has happened recently, and I don’t know how to handle it yet. Can you just give me a little more time? I promise I’ll sort it out soon.” I’d rarely seen him like this. It reminded me of the broken, exhausted man who had first come home from his trip. “Is it about work?” I asked. “Y-yes. Yes,” he answered quickly. “It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” He looked at me with such genuine apology in his eyes that all my suspicions melted away. It was rare for Liam to face a problem he couldn’t solve. So if he was acting a little strange, maybe that was normal, right? 5 “So you just forgave him like that? Chloe, you’re spoiling that man rotten,” my best friend Zoe declared, completely baffled. “What else was I supposed to do?” I swirled the tea in my cup, my gaze indifferent. “Keep fighting with him? Start another argument? What would that accomplish?” “So, is he still acting weird?” “It’s hard to say. Yes and no.” It was a bizarre feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Sometimes, I felt like Liam was just pretending to be close to me, but other times, it felt real. I chalked it up to me being overly sensitive. “Well, try not to overthink it.” Zoe clinked her cup against mine. I nodded, trying to reassure myself. “He’s a busy man. All I can do is be supportive—” My words were cut short when Liam’s assistant walked into the café. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Seeing his assistant here, looking relaxed, was… interesting. When he came over to our table to say hello, I seized the opportunity. “Has work been crazy busy lately?” I asked casually. “It’s been manageable,” he replied. “No major problems? Nothing… tricky?” He thought for a moment. “Everything’s been running smoothly. Not that I’m aware of, no.” I offered him a tight smile and stood up. “That’s great to hear. I think I’ll head over to the office with you.” The entire car ride, my mind raced. Liam had lied to me. If his stress wasn’t from work, then what was the real reason for his strange behavior? I hated where my thoughts were going, but all the signs pointed to one devastating conclusion— He was falling for someone else. Maybe he’d met another woman, and that’s why he’d become so distant, so absent-minded with me. He was just going through the motions. His hugs were stiff. His kisses were wooden. Even when we made love, he seemed like his soul was somewhere else. He was nothing like the man I had married. Taking a deep breath, I walked into his office building, carrying the afternoon tea I’d picked up. I passed out the pastries and coffee to the staff in the executive suite, who cheerfully informed me that Liam was in a meeting. So, I sat in his office to wait. His phone, his personal tablet, and his laptop were all sitting right there on his desk. I’d never been the type to snoop. Liam had never given me a reason to doubt him. But now… now I was curious. What if there really was someone else? Without a second thought, I picked up his phone. I checked his texts, his call logs, his photo gallery. Nothing. Not a single suspicious thing. I raised an eyebrow and reached for the tablet. The passcode was still my birthday. I unlocked it, but instead of the home screen, it opened to the last page he’d been viewing. He must have just closed the cover without closing the app. It was a post on a forum, a plea for help. The title read: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] My brow furrowed as my eyes scanned the first few lines of the post. “Hey everyone, so I just graduated high school. The other day I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was in a strange city, and the girl I’ve been in love with forever was calling me her husband, asking when I was coming home…” I wondered why Liam would be reading such a ridiculous story, but then my gaze caught the username: MyWifeChloe. My eyes widened. My name is Chloe. My heart stopped beating. My fingers trembled as I tapped on the user’s profile picture, then navigated to their main page. And there, I saw it—the option to “Edit Profile.” The world went silent. This was Liam’s account. Which meant the person who wrote that post… was Liam himself. Holy. Shit.

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The new assistant designer at the firm was… creative. She’d boldly taken a sixty-year-old client’s request for a Classic Heritage look and transformed it into Cozy Chic. She’d fearlessly reimagined a newlywed couple’s marital haven into a stark, funereal monochrome. I’d cleaned up her messes more times than I could count, doling out public reprimands and official penalties to no avail. When I finally decided she had to go, my partner, David, refused to sign off on it. “This is just how Gen Z is,” he’d said with a shrug. “They’re full of personality. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” I dropped the subject and said no more. Instead, I quietly resigned and started my own company. Later, I heard my old firm had stepped in it—big time. That same young woman, so cherished by the boss, had decided the design for the new City Hall was too stuffy. So, on her own authority, she’d had the entire thing painted Barbie pink. 1 “Ava, we have another situation.” My assistant, Leah, rushed into my office, her words catching in her throat. The look on her face told me everything. It had to be our resident creative genius, Miss Full-of-Ideas, striking again. After the Classic Heritage-turned-Cozy Chic incident, and the wedding suite-turned-mausoleum fiasco, I figured nothing she did could surprise me anymore. “Alright, spit it out. What client’s design did she butcher this time?” “Well, it’s not the design, Ava…” Leah stammered. “This time, she invited a few friends over to the client’s villa—the one that’s supposed to be handed over this afternoon. They had a party. It’s… a disaster.” Leah handed me her phone, and I swiped through the photos from the scene. A dull throb started behind my eyes. “Disaster” was putting it mildly. “Utter devastation” was closer to the mark. Furniture was overturned, garbage littered every surface, and a closer look revealed the tell-tale shimmer of discarded foil wrappers glinting in the debris. That, at least, could be cleaned. But the brand-new white walls were splattered with what looked like bright red hot sauce. The pristine white marble countertops were stained with dark, inky puddles that had already seeped into the stone. And the client’s custom-made, thousand-dollar wool rug was matted with several sticky, unidentifiable clumps of… something. The sheer scale of the wreckage was overwhelming. I didn’t even know where to begin. “When is the handover?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose, my eyes squeezed shut. “This afternoon. Two o’clock,” Leah whispered. “Right. Okay. I need you to schedule an emergency meeting with David and the other directors. Now,” I instructed. “And make sure Chloe is there. Have HR join, too.” Leah nodded, then hesitated. “There’s a small problem with that. Chloe is… still at the villa. She just woke up from her drunken stupor. She’s sleeping it off in the client’s master bedroom.” A white-hot rage flared in my chest. I shot to my feet, my palm slamming against the desk. Without another word, I stormed into David’s office next door. “Your little protégée has been busy,” I snapped, throwing Leah’s phone onto his desk. “You can either call the client and explain this yourself, or you can have her do it.” David didn’t appreciate the intrusion. He hastily blanked his phone screen and shot me an annoyed look. “Ava, how many times do I have to say it? We’re not a scrappy startup anymore. A little courtesy, like knocking, would be appreciated. Some things require privacy.” I was too furious to speak. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d been watching highlight clips from Chloe’s livestream. I recognized the background; a few colleagues had shown it to me before, marveling at how these “slash-generation” kids all had side hustles. They’d even commented on how generous Chloe’s top donor was, sometimes dropping thousands in a single night. “Fine. I’ll remember that for next time,” I said, my voice tight. “Now look at the photos.” He picked up the phone. It was his design, his project. He recognized the villa instantly. A few swipes later, his face contorted with fury. He slammed his fist on his own desk, the sound echoing through the office. “Is this Mr. Sterling’s place? Who? Who the hell would dare to do this? I’m supposed to walk him through the final inspection this afternoon! What am I supposed to show him now?!” I crossed my arms, a humorless smile on my lips. “Who else? Your adorable, hand-picked assistant. Chloe.” The fire in David’s eyes died instantly, replaced by a flicker of awkward defensiveness. 2 David and I founded Apex Designs together. We’d been classmates in design school, friends for years. Through all the tough times, we never compromised on our design philosophy or the quality of our work. We clawed our way through the lean early years and slowly built the firm into what it was today—a respected company with hundreds of employees, a stellar reputation, and an IPO on the horizon. Then, after the New Year, David showed up with a young woman in tow. His new assistant. Chloe arrived with a cloud of pinkish-purple curls, wearing a sheer, cropped blouse, denim shorts that were more pocket than pant, and a pair of Crocs. The entire office, myself included, was stunned. But David waved it all away. “This is the new generation,” he’d declared. “It’s personality, especially for a cutting-edge designer. We should encourage it.” When I asked about her education and experience, however, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “The school was mean, they wouldn’t give me my diploma,” she’d whimpered. “I’m super sad about it, but I don’t wanna talk about it.” I was floored. As the co-founder and Design Director, I had standards. An employee with that level of emotional maturity didn’t meet any of them. But David was inexplicably moved. He laid down the law, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Our firm is too buttoned-up, Ava. It’s full of straight-laced people. It feels… stagnant. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt any real passion or inspiration for design?” I said nothing. He was the CEO, I was the VP. In the end, I had no real power to veto his choice of assistant. But my silence unleashed a torrent of problems. This girl, Chloe, was certainly… special. She complained that the catered lunches weren’t to her taste, and after a few tearful sessions with David, corn dogs and french fries were added to the menu. She couldn’t possibly drink plain bottled water, so she’d wheedled David into having the admin stock the fridge with Capri Suns and Yoo-hoos. That was just the beginning. Her “brilliant ideas” started small, with unauthorized tweaks to approved designs. She’d swap out a client’s bedroom hardwood floors for cold tile, or their bathroom porcelain for brutalist concrete. She’d tear down walls for an open-concept kitchen a client never asked for. She even had a magnificent crystal chandelier a client had hand-picked ripped out and replaced with soulless recessed lighting. Every time a client stormed into our office, furious and demanding compensation, Chloe would simply hide behind David, her eyes shimmering with tears as she offered her defense. “David, babe, their ideas were just so dated,” she’d pout. “They just don’t get what’s trending now. I didn’t want our company’s work to look basic. Is it so wrong to have artistic integrity?” And David, after a moment’s thought, would actually conclude, “Her intentions were good, even if the execution was a little off.” With him covering for her, Chloe grew bolder. Soon, she was changing entire design schemes without consulting anyone. Mediterranean became minimalist, Scandinavian became French Country, Japanese Zen became Korean Cottagecore… she was a force of stubborn, chaotic creativity. She refused to stick to a plan, insisting on her “spontaneous inspiration.” The project managers assigned to her were losing their minds. But she was the CEO’s assistant, and David doted on her. Everyone assumed she had connections, so no one dared to cross her. When I finally cornered her and demanded an explanation, she blew a bubble with her gum and smirked. “The clients have terrible taste. I’m just giving them the hottest styles from Pinterest.” And after every disaster, David would sigh, comfort Chloe, and then send me to smooth things over with the client. How do you smooth over something like that? With money. Lots of it. We either had to undo her changes for free and throw in an upgrade, or we had to compensate them for lost time and emotional distress. I made a point of deducting every single dollar from Chloe’s salary. But all it took was one tearful visit to David’s office, and after a token lecture, he’d absorb the cost himself. As long as someone else was paying, I couldn’t say much. But this time, she had gone too far. 3 The owner of the villa, Mr. Sterling, was the CEO of a major real estate development company. He’d given us the contract for his personal residence as a favor to a mutual business partner. We were all hoping this project would be the gateway to a much larger contract for all of his company’s new model homes. Now… well, now he probably wanted to kill us. David and I were at a standoff in his office, the argument raging. I was adamant: Chloe had to be fired. She was a liability who did nothing but cause trouble and act like a child. He wouldn’t budge. He kept insisting there must have been some kind of misunderstanding. I was livid. “A misunderstanding? Are you going to go tell Mr. Sterling it was a misunderstanding? That’s as good as telling him we’re an unreliable, untrustworthy firm! We can’t meet a simple deadline, and if he finds out what really happened, do you think he’ll ever feel comfortable living in that house?” David’s brow furrowed as he grasped for a defense. “I know Chloe. She has a lot of ideas, sure, but she wouldn’t do something this insane. Besides, even if you fire her, there will be a thousand other Chloes. That’s just how Gen Z is. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” His twisted logic made me want to scream. “Where are you getting this idea that I have a problem with Gen Z? Leah, Josh, Kate—they’re all Gen Z. When was the last time any of them caused a five-alarm fire? Since you’re so determined to protect her and clean up her messes, why don’t you just take her home and keep her as a pet? Why inflict her on the rest of us?” That hit a nerve. He blurted out, “You know, Ava, now that you mention it, why are you always so focused on Chloe? There are plenty of other young employees here.” I stared at him, incredulous. Before I could even form a response, the door swung open. “You don’t have to ask, David, babe. I know why,” Chloe announced, sauntering in with a messy bun and the hungover face of someone who’d just woken up. She was sipping a large bubble tea. “Ava’s, what, eight years older than me? We’re practically from different generations. Of course she doesn’t get me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, I’m young, and I’m always around you… It’s only natural for her to feel a little… threatened.” 4 The room fell silent. Every eye in the office, including the directors who had gathered for the meeting, turned to me. I was utterly baffled. David and I had known each other for a decade, worked side-by-side building this company. Sure, in the early days, there might have been a spark, a mutual flicker of something more as we supported each other through the struggle. But years of working together day in and day out had ground that spark into dust. For my part, at least, my feelings for him were purely platonic and professional. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Over the holidays, I’d reconnected with an old high school classmate at a wedding. He worked in the same city, we’d hit it off immediately, and just last month, I’d accepted his proposal. But that was my private life; I saw no reason to broadcast it at work. Not to mention, ever since Chloe’s arrival, David had been too busy either parading her around to meetings or cleaning up her disasters to pay attention to anyone else’s life. I dropped all pretense of politeness. “Get your head on straight,” I said to Chloe, my voice ice-cold. “I am the Vice President of this company. As an employee, do you think it’s appropriate to spread malicious rumors about me? This is a workplace, not a daycare. Act like a professional. As for Mr. Sterling’s villa, the company could sue you for the damages, and we’d win. So, which will it be? Are you going to pay for the repairs, or do we handle this through our lawyers?” The bubble tea suddenly seemed less appealing. Chloe’s lower lip trembled as she turned her big, pleading eyes to David, just as she had countless times before. “David, I didn’t mean to! My friends heard that the famous designer David himself did the villa, and they all wanted to see it. I was so proud of you, I just had to show them… We got tired and just had a little snack… Besides, doesn’t the company have a cleaning crew? Just have them tidy up. If we don’t say anything, the client will never know.” A flicker of conflict—and a hint of pity—crossed David’s face. I saw him start to soften. “David,” I cut in sharply before he could speak. “Mr. Sterling is expecting the final walkthrough in two hours. You need to figure out what you’re going to tell him.” Chloe piped up, her voice a syrupy whisper. “It’ll be fine. I don’t think Mr. Sterling is mean and scary like some people. He’s probably just like the big-spender fans in my livestream. They all adore me. It’s okay, David, babe, I’ll go with you this afternoon. I’ll just bat my eyelashes and ask him nicely to forgive us.” David’s expression relaxed. He gave her a half-hearted scolding. “Chloe, you were in the wrong here. You need to sincerely apologize to Mr. Sterling this afternoon.” Her tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. “You got it!” Seeing that he was once again going to shield her, I gave up. “Fine. Whoever made the mess can clean it up. But I’m putting it on the record right now: if this isn’t resolved today, either she goes, or I do.”

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After I failed to conquer three male leads, the System was about to delete me. Suddenly, it was forcibly logged out. 【Hello, Host. I am Advanced System 001, and my mission success rate is a perfect one hundred percent. To maintain that record, you will now restart your missions with those three failed targets.】 A pained sob escaped my lips. “…I can’t grovel anymore. I really, truly can’t.” 001 let out a cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone refuses to love you, I’ll just kill them.】 I blinked. “Huh?” 1 My body was dumped on a muddy mountain path. Disembodied, I watched as wild beasts tore me apart, leaving nothing but a pile of clean-picked bones. As my spirit floated in the air, I was pulled back into the stark white space of the System. A blue orb of light bobbed before me, shaking in disappointment. 【Regrettably, Host, you have failed three consecutive conquest missions. According to the Transmigration Codex, as your System, I have the right to proceed with your deletion.】 I didn’t argue. After three catastrophic failures, I had lost all hope. The three targets were worse than the last, each one a special brand of asshole, and I’d been forced to cater to them, to cast aside my dignity and act like some pathetic, fawning dog. If I resisted, my old system would hit me with electric shocks or seize control of my body. In the end, it always led to a gruesome death without even a proper corpse to show for it. Now, hearing the sentence passed down, I just felt… tired. I didn’t even have the will to beg for my life. Giving up completely, I lay down on the pristine white floor to enjoy my final moments. 【Deletion countdown commencing. 3… 2…】 Before it could say ‘1’, the blue orb vanished from my sight. In its place hovered a golden orb, noticeably larger and more brilliant than my old system. It gave me a polite, almost imperceptible nod. 【Greetings, Host 739. I am System 001. Due to the one-hundred-percent failure rate of you and your assigned system, I will be taking over your case from this point forward.】 I sat up. “Take me over for what? I’m about to be deleted. A new system can’t change that.” 001’s tone was chillingly indifferent. 【Your case is an extreme outlier. Such a perfect record of failure is a rarity even within our Transmigration Division. Therefore, I have filed a petition to cancel your deletion. We will be deleting your previous system instead.】 My lips trembled. “Deleting…” Good riddance! I almost laughed out loud. But then it hit me. If 001 was taking over, it meant I had to go back. Back to the missions, back to the grovelling. The despair of that thought quickly extinguished the joy of hearing my old system was getting scrapped. “You know what? Just kill me.” I flopped back onto the floor, my voice thick with a misery I couldn’t hide. “I really don’t want to be a doormat for some guy again. Doormats get walked all over and end up with nothing.” To my surprise, 001 cried out, a note of genuine shock in its synthesized voice. 【That’s how your previous system made you complete your missions?!】 I was taken aback. “How else? If I didn’t play along, it would electrocute me or hit me with psychic attacks. At this point, I think I have PTSD from just looking at men.” The memory of all that bitterness and pain washed over me, and I started to sob, the tears flowing freely. “I really can’t grovel anymore…” 001 went silent for a moment before letting out that same, cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone dares not to fall in love with you, I’ll kill them.】 “Uh…” Dude, is that even allowed? 2 Before I could object, 001 teleported me into my first failed world. Its words still echoed in my mind. 【I, 001, do not accept failure. We get back up right where we fell.】 The first thing I felt was the cold, sticky shock of red wine splashing across my face. Asher’s icy gaze bore down on me as he stood with his arms crossed, looking down his nose at me. “Cut the crap with your cheap little tricks, Evelyn. If it weren’t for you, why would Isabelle be ignoring me? Since you love making a scene so much, go on, give everyone a show.” With a snap of his fingers, he summoned six large, brutish men. He even took the time to set up a camera, ready to enjoy the spectacle he had arranged. Only then did I realize I was wearing a slinky, backless red dress. The wine had soaked through the fabric, making it cling to every curve. Déjà vu hit me like a punch to the gut. This had happened before. Asher, annoyed by my constant presence, had blamed me for making the girl he was chasing, Isabelle, jealous. He’d hired these six thugs to humiliate me, filmed the entire thing, and posted it online. My reputation was destroyed. Isabelle later had me sold off overseas, where I died a particularly miserable death. The memory sent a tremor through my entire body. Asher saw it and smirked. “Scared now? It’s a little late for that.” He gave a nod, and the nearest thug started lumbering toward me. Just then, 001’s voice rang out in my head. 【Don’t be afraid, Host. I’ve downloaded advanced combat knowledge into your mind. Now, do exactly as I say.】 001 wasn’t lying. A strange, potent energy surged through me. I felt like I could take down eight men with my eyes closed. As the closest thug’s sweaty, leering face got inches from mine, I closed my eyes and threw a punch straight at his nose. There was a deafening BOOM. I opened my eyes. The thug was gone. In his place was a massive, gaping hole in the wall of the hotel room. The remaining five men stared, their faces pale with terror, and stumbled backward. Asher was frozen in place, his smug expression wiped clean off his face. 001 issued a cold, simple command. 【Now, go slap Asher a few times.】 A thrill coursed through me. “Just a few slaps?” 【If you’re so inclined, you can give him a proper beating.】 My fingers twitched. “Any… restrictions?” 【None. You can beat him until he’s a stranger, and then beat him some more until he feels like a long-lost relative.】 “Huh?” 001 was concise. 【Beat him until he gets on his knees and calls you ‘Mommy’.】 “…” I walked toward Asher step by step. Seeing their chance, the other thugs scrambled out of the room. Asher’s brow furrowed. “Evelyn, what do you think you’re doing?” “Asher,” I said softly. “Long time, no see.” He looked completely baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” I didn’t explain. I just swung my hand, and the crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. Asher was furious. “You’re the one who wouldn’t leave me alone! I was just pushing back—” Before he could finish, another sharp slap sent him stumbling. He fell backward, his head cracking against the edge of a cabinet. He grimaced in pain. “You! You bitch! I’m going to kill you!” I remained silent, letting my fists do the talking. Asher sputtered, “You just wait…” A punch knocked out a few of his teeth. “I’ll make you pay for—” A sickening crack signaled a broken arm. Finally, he started begging. “I was wrong! Please, let me go!” I kept at it, silent and relentless, until Asher’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold. 001 applauded in my mind. 【A shame you didn’t kill him, but it’s progress.】 My eyes widened. “Isn’t he my conquest target? If I kill him, won’t the mission fail?” 001 sounded utterly unconcerned. 【So what? If he dies, we’ll just pick another one.】 “…” 3 Killing him was out of the question. This was a world with laws, and if Asher actually died, I wouldn’t be getting away with it. But knowing his vindictive nature, just letting him go wasn’t an option either. He’d make my life a living hell. An idea sparked in my mind. I dragged his unconscious body onto the bed and consulted with my new partner. “001, can you hack Asher’s phone and get those guys to come back?” 001 sounded personally offended. 【Is that all you think I’m capable of?】 I was confused. “What’s wrong with that?” 【With my capabilities,】 001 declared haughtily, 【I could summon a hundred men.】 “Uh…?” I politely declined its attempt to flex its muscles. The original thugs soon shuffled back into the room, their eyes wide with terror the moment they saw me. They instinctively tried to bolt. I blocked their path. “Let me get the pictures I want, and I’ll double whatever he paid you.” With a nod, I pointed toward Asher, who was still out cold on the bed. The men exchanged nervous glances, but the allure of money won out in the end. After leaving the hotel, I found Isabelle waiting outside, her beautifully manicured hands clenched into fists, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why are you the only one who came out? Where’s Asher?” A strange smile played on my lips. “Who knows? Maybe he’s… enjoying himself.” Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms as she hissed a threat. “I’m warning you, Asher is mine. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl out of our lives like the dog you are.” I patted her shoulder with faux sympathy. “Oh, honey, it’s not just ‘your’ world.” It’s a world for the seven of you. “?” Back at my apartment, the adrenaline finally wore off. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained, and struck up a conversation with 001. “So, 001, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you choose to bind with me?” 001 seemed preoccupied with something, taking a moment to reply. 【My performance has been number one for years. It’s gotten boring. I’d never seen a Host as spectacularly bad as you, so I figured, why not? You were such an unprecedented failure, it was a professional curiosity. Even if it’s a dumpster fire, I have to see how it burns.】 “Excuse me?” Are you even trying to be polite? 001 must have realized it had been a bit harsh, because it quickly added another comment. 【Honestly, you’re not that bad. You just got stuck with a defective system. 3412 was from the last batch of faulty units. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t your fault.】 I was so used to being berated and blamed by my old system that hearing those words… It wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. My nose tingled, and I felt an overwhelming urge to give 001 a hug. Too bad it didn’t have a physical form. The sentimental moment passed quickly, and 001 was all business again. 【We can’t switch targets until the current one is dead, so I’m giving you two options. Option one: continue pursuing Asher. Option two: kill Asher and we pick someone new. Your choice.】 I hesitated. “There’s no way Asher will fall for me after I beat him half to death. But I don’t really want to be a murderer either…” 001 made the decision for me. 【Simple. We stick with him for now. You just do exactly what I tell you to do.】 At one in the morning, Asher slowly regained consciousness. He rubbed his aching neck and tried to sit up, but a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He saw a woman sitting by his bed. She wasn’t speaking, just quietly peeling a piece of fruit. Hearing him stir, I turned my head, held up the fruit knife, and gave him a bright smile. “Asher, do you love me?” “?” “A GHOST! AHHHHH!” 4 I pressed the tip of the knife against his neck, a silent warning to shut up. The cold steel did its job, and Asher fell silent, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. “Be… be careful. Don’t let it slip.” I repeated my question. “Asher, do you love me?” He gritted his teeth. “Isabelle is the only one in my heart. No matter how much you force me, I will never love you.” I casually withdrew the knife and stuck it into a slice of apple. “Fine. I’ll ask you again tomorrow.” “…” For the next few days, I made a habit of popping up in front of Asher at random times. I’d beat him up, then ask him if he loved me. If he didn’t answer, I’d repeat the process. “001, is this really going to work?” I asked one day. 【There is a ninety-nine percent chance of success.】 I lowered my eyes. “And the other one percent?” 【The other one percent is that you beat him to death.】 “…” After nearly two weeks of this torment, Asher’s mental state was hanging on by a thread. The moment he tried to call the police for help, I conveniently presented him with the photos and videos from the hotel room. That broke him. He fell to his knees, begging me to leave him alone. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this hatred?” I looked down at the tear-streaked face of the man who had once held my life in his hands. “If you didn’t like me,” I asked coolly, “why did you let me get close? You enjoyed everything I did for you, treated me like your personal servant, and then threw me away like trash.” Don’t think I didn’t know. His signals had always been mixed. Every time I was about to give up, he’d toss me a scrap of affection, a breadcrumb of hope, just to keep me hooked. He got used to my devotion, all while telling his friends I was nothing more than a dog he could summon and dismiss at will. If it weren’t for that useless old system holding me back, I would have killed him myself long ago. Asher’s face went pale. He shut his eyes in resignation. “If that’s what this is about… fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend. Is that good enough for you?” I stared at him. “So, do you love me?” “…” “I guess you don’t love me enough,” I said thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.” “…” I slipped out of Asher’s apartment through the window, oblivious to the venomous glare he shot at my back. He muttered under his breath, “Evelyn… I’ll make sure you die.” Then, he dialed a number. “Isabelle, can you help me with something?” Back at my place, I collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the ache in my temples. “How can Asher be so stubborn? My arms are getting tired from beating him, and he still won’t just say he loves me.” 001’s voice was calm. 【If he won’t say it, it means you haven’t been cruel enough. Next time, break both his legs, lock him in the house, and starve him for a few days. If he says he likes you, he gets a sip of water. If he says he loves you, he gets food.】 The more I listened, the more I started to feel a little creeped out. Just as I was about to ask where it learned these… techniques, my phone rang. It was Asher. He was trying his best to hide the hatred in his voice, speaking in a soft, gentle tone. “Evelyn, you wanted to hear me say I love you, right? Come to the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town tomorrow. I have a surprise waiting for you there. You have to come. I’ll be waiting.” Before I could even respond, he hung up. A heavy silence fell between me and 001. Me: “He must think I’m a complete idiot.” The trap was so obvious, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 001: 【…He’s already been through so much. Just humor him.】 5 After some thought, I decided to go. 001 had been complaining about my slow progress, reminding me that we still had two more worlds to get through. If I didn’t wrap this up soon, it threatened to take matters into its own hands. The thought of its “water for like, food for love” theory was enough to convince me to just get this over with and give Asher what was coming to him. At four in the afternoon, I took a cab to within a hundred yards of the abandoned factory. I could see Asher from a distance, pacing anxiously at the entrance. When he spotted me, he rushed over, his eyes darting around nervously, but his smile was blindingly bright. “I have a surprise for you. Just walk inside and you’ll see it.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, do you love me today?” Asher: “…?” Since he wouldn’t answer, I gave him a familiar beatdown and tossed his groaning body to the side. “001, can you see if anyone’s inside?” 【The factory is empty.】 Feeling confident, I started walking in, but a strange, sweet smell hit me. 001’s voice suddenly shouted in my mind. 【Watch out! Retreat, now! The whole place is filled with sevoflurane!】 It was too late. I’d already taken a deep breath to identify the scent. My vision swam, and the world went black. 001: 【…】 A sudden torrent of cold water shocked me awake, and I gasped, shivering uncontrollably. 001’s voice sounded weak and distorted in my head. 【You’re awake?】 I didn’t answer. I was tied tightly to a chair. Across the room, Asher and Isabelle were huddled together. When he saw my eyes open, Asher’s face, swollen like a pig’s, twisted into a triumphant grin. “You’re finished, Evelyn.” A group of burly, black-clad men filed in through the door. Isabelle waved a hand in front of her face, a look of disgust on hers. “Don’t kill her. I was planning on selling her off overseas again.” Asher’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Of course, darling. Anything you want.” He pulled out a small knife and pressed the cold flat of the blade against my cheek, his teeth grinding with rage. “Evelyn, did you ever imagine you’d end up back in my hands?” I ignored him, screaming at 001 in my mind. Me: I’m so sorry. This mission is a failure too. 001, surprisingly, was comforting. 【It’s not your fault. Asher’s just a bigger scumbag than we anticipated.】 I sighed. Me: Just remember to block the pain for me. I’ll see you in the next world. 001 let out a chilling laugh. 【No need. Asher dared to ruin my perfect record. Today, I’m going to show him what a real superpower looks like.】 Me: Huh? 【Confirmed timeline coordinates. Initiating reset.】 Me: ! Time snapped backward, rewinding to the moment just before I stepped into the factory. Asher was still on the ground, pretending to be unconscious. This time, I walked up and gave him a solid kick. He yelped in pain, the sound loud enough to draw out Isabelle and the thugs who had been hiding around the factory. “Asher!” He looked absolutely crushed. “What are you all doing out here?” Isabelle looked wounded by his tone. “She was bullying you! I couldn’t just stand by and watch.” “I was this close to luring her inside!” he despaired. “You…” I cut him off with a punch that sent blood streaming from his nose. I smiled sweetly. “Quite the setup you have here. All that sevoflurane must have been hard to get, huh?” “You—how did you know?” I wasn’t about to tell him my backup was stronger than his. I just hit him again. “Do you love me or not?” Isabelle tried to step in, but 001 summoned a perfectly aimed bolt of lightning from the heavens. Anyone who moved got zapped. Under the relentless storm of my fists, Asher finally broke. Tears and snot streamed down his face. “I love you! I love you, okay?!” 001 instantly captured the key phrase. 【Love from the conquest target has been detected. Calculating mission results.】 Back in the white space, I felt a little uneasy. “Are we really going to get away with cheating the system like that?” 001 was nonchalant. 【He said he loved you. I extracted that keyword and made a few thousand copies for the record. The Inspectorate won’t find a thing.】 “But what if they do?” 【What’s there to be afraid of? I run the Inspectorate.】 Me: “?”

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For twenty-five years, I’d been working to win over Bryan Croft. And he’d finally proposed. But on our wedding day, the one that got away came to crash it. “Bryan, you won! I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” I begged Bryan not to go, but he left me at the altar anyway. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED.] The next second, Bryan dropped dead in her arms. 1 Before the wedding, I had asked Bryan, half-joking, “If Lena showed up on our wedding day and asked you to leave with her, would you go?” He’d run his fingers through my hair, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, Viv. She won’t come.” It sounded less like he was reassuring me and more like he was trying to convince himself. I couldn’t let it go. “But what if she did?” A flicker of hope, so fast I almost missed it, crossed his face before he smoothed it over with that gentle tone he always used to placate me. “You silly girl. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” He knew that all it took was a little softness from him, and I would surrender. But not this time. I didn’t fall silent as he expected. “Bryan, please. I’m begging you. No matter what happens at the ceremony, can we just… finish it? Can we please just get married?” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Vivian, have you had enough? Lena is married! She is not going to crash our wedding, do you understand?” 2 I didn’t want to be this desperate, but I wanted to live. I was on a mission, you see. My first and only assignment: win over Bryan Croft and marry him. The task itself wasn’t that difficult. It never required him to love me, only that he marry me before he turned thirty. To make sure I succeeded, I was sent here when he was just five years old. Back then, Bryan wasn’t the titan of industry he would become. He was just the son of a housekeeper, living in the basement of the magnificent estate owned by Lena’s family. The System set me up with a similar identity—the daughter of another maid. And so, I grew up with him. We navigated the awkward, beautiful maze of our youth together. We’d meet at 5 a.m. to study, pushing each other, cheering each other on. We wore the same fifteen-dollar sneakers and shared dollar hot dogs from street carts. We were poor, but we were never ashamed. We were each other’s backbone. At twenty, we both got into one of the country’s most prestigious universities with top scores. The day the acceptance letters came, we stood on the athletic field as the sun melted into the horizon. The warm, golden light bathed everything around us as Bryan, his face flushed, took my hand. “Viv,” he’d whispered, “I’m so glad you exist in this world.” 3 Back then, I was glad, too. Glad that the boy I had to win over was this fearless, determined soul. But then Lena returned from her studies abroad, and everything changed. Her father donated a new wing to the university, and just like that, she was one of our classmates. She was a supernova—dazzling, wild, and free. She was the goddess in every guy’s dream. But among her legion of admirers, one was conspicuously absent: Bryan Croft, the student body president. So, from her very first day, Lena made it her mission to conquer him. If Bryan was a block of ice, Lena was a wildfire, hell-bent on melting him down. He despised her at first, seeing her as nothing more than a spoiled heiress who had never known a day of real hardship. He told her, more than once, that I was the one he cared for, that we shared a bond that could never be broken. But a princess like Lena doesn’t care about such things. Like a stubborn bull, she slowly, relentlessly plowed her way into the fields of his heart. 4 Day after day, Lena whispered poison in his ear, insisting that what we had was just friendship. “You and Vivian are just used to each other,” she’d say. “It’s the comfort of routine, not passion.” “It’s a childhood bond, Bryan. True love is about desire, about wanting.” “Holding her hand is probably like your left hand holding your right.” I tried to fight it, but our years of quiet understanding had become a placid lake, too calm to create new waves. The more we tried to prove her wrong, the more it felt like we were proving her right. Still, neither of us wanted to admit it, to break the fragile surface. Finally, Lena lost her patience. At the university’s anniversary gala, she grabbed a boy who had just confessed his feelings for her and kissed him, right there in front of everyone. That night, the volcano inside Bryan finally erupted. I saw him pin Lena against a wall in the shadows, savagely crushing his lips against hers. Lena had finally gotten what she wanted. And Bryan and I… we went back to being friends. 5 Later, Lena brought Bryan home to meet her family. It was the first time I ever saw her father, a famously composed man, lose his temper. It was also the first time I saw the shadow of shame in Bryan’s eyes. Her father’s opposition didn’t tear them apart; it only fanned the flames of their romance. He cut off Lena’s credit cards, but their love burned hotter. Within a month, all the money Bryan had saved from years of part-time jobs was gone. He even borrowed from me several times and, for the first time since high school, asked his mother for nearly three thousand dollars. This was the boy who, alongside me, had been living off scholarships since we were teenagers. Bryan’s mom called me, her voice trembling with worry, asking if he was in some kind of trouble. I had to lie, telling her he was launching a startup and needed capital. But I knew the truth. All that drama, all that money… was for a Chanel bag Lena had set her heart on. Their breakup, when it came, was ugly. Lena couldn’t understand why Bryan was so angry that she’d bought a pair of twelve-hundred-dollar heels. After all, she used to wear heels that cost nearly three thousand. Bryan clenched his jaw and said nothing. But I knew. He wasn’t breaking up with her because he’d stopped loving her. He was breaking up with her because he felt he didn’t deserve her. 6 Five years passed. The Sterling family’s empire began to show cracks, their great ship listing in treacherous waters. Meanwhile, Bryan’s startup, Horizon Tech, was becoming a rising star. Whispers started that the Sterlings were looking for a strategic marriage to save their company. Bryan, full of renewed hope, went to them, only to be slapped down by reality once more. Even a sinking ship like the Sterlings’ was still out of his league. In the end, Lena married Sterling’s youngest son. Bryan fell apart. He spent his nights lost in a drunken haze, a ghost haunting the city’s bars. I spent my days cleaning up the messes at his company and my nights dragging him home. Every time I saw him, his face flushed with alcohol, I was reminded of the boy on the athletic field, bathed in the sunset’s glow. A bitter ache filled my heart. Back then, he really was glad to have me, wasn’t he? 7 There were only two months left until Bryan’s thirtieth birthday. I’d given up all hope of completing my mission. News had just broken that Lena and the Sterling heir were on the rocks and a divorce was imminent. I’d already said my goodbyes to my mother, my bags packed for a trip around the world. And then, Bryan got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. After all those years of waiting, to finally have my wish granted… to say I wasn’t happy would be a lie. But I couldn’t tell if I was happy because I would finally get to live, or because I would finally be with him. In the days leading up to the wedding, I asked him again and again if he was sure, if he truly wanted to marry me. Each time, his answer was a firm “yes.” Only when I brought up Lena did he falter. He couldn’t even bring himself to lie. But by then, I realized I didn’t care as much as I thought. As long as the wedding happened, my mission would be complete. 8 Throughout the entire ceremony, my heart was in my throat, terrified that something would go wrong. Bryan was just as distracted, though his eyes held a flicker of anticipation, as if he were waiting for a different show to start. And then, just as we were about to exchange rings, Lena appeared. It was like watching a butcher’s cleaver, raised high for an eternity, finally fall. And strangely, a sense of relief washed over me. “Bryan, you won!” she cried, her voice echoing through the silent hall. “I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” For the sake of my own life, I made one last, desperate attempt. I clutched the sleeve of his tuxedo. “Bryan, please, don’t go. Don’t you remember what you promised me?” I was so close. So close to survival. His face was a mask of apology, but he gently pried my fingers from his sleeve and walked toward his past, toward Lena. “I’m sorry, Viv.” “The truth is… this wedding was a gamble. Lena told me a divorced woman like her didn’t deserve me. So I thought… maybe if I was divorced too, she wouldn’t feel so insecure.” “And you… you’re my best friend. I figured you were the only one who would help me with something like this.” I stared coldly at the man I had spent twenty-five years of my life beside, and I found I had nothing left to say. System, I thought, my voice flat, I’m abandoning the mission. [Are you sure?] I’m sure. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED!] What? The System’s voice screeched in my mind, but before I could process it, Bryan’s eyes went vacant, and he collapsed into Lena’s arms. 9 Lena had no idea she was holding a dead man. She wrapped her arms around him, preening like a victorious peacock. “Oh, Bryan,” she cooed, her voice triumphant. “I knew it. I knew if I came back, you’d be waiting for me.” She tilted her head to kiss him, but her dark eyes locked onto mine over his shoulder, filled with contempt and provocation. I knew she was savoring this moment. In her world, Bryan was her devoted dog, and I was his. For years, she had carried an air of effortless superiority around me. But you’re kissing a corpse now, Lena. 10 At that moment, the single table of guests—Bryan’s hand-picked friends—erupted into whistles and applause. Someone even set off a party popper. Bryan must have anticipated Lena crashing the wedding. To protect her reputation as a married woman, he had only invited his closest circle, the ones who knew every sordid detail of their affair. As for me, I was so afraid something would go wrong, so terrified my mother might see me die on my wedding day, that I hadn’t invited her. The only guest on my side was my lawyer. He was currently recording the whole “epic reunion” on his phone. My original plan was that if the mission failed and I died, he would immediately leak the story to every major news outlet. I’d even written the headlines for them. Jilted Bride Literally Dies of a Broken Heart as Groom Flees with Married Mistress. I never imagined… that Bryan would be the one to die. 11 Lena held her kiss for a long moment before she finally realized the cold, gray stillness of Bryan’s face. A primal panic seized her, and she shoved him away. With a sickening thud, Bryan’s body fell rigidly to the marble floor, the back of his head cracking against the hard surface. Blood began to pool around him, a spreading halo of crimson. The System’s voice, cool and detached, returned. [Well, now he’s definitely dead.] Just then, I saw it—a shimmering, translucent form slowly rising from his body. It was Bryan’s soul. He stared in disbelief at the corpse on the floor… and then at Lena, who was now bent over, retching in horror. 12 Chaos erupted. Someone called an ambulance. Someone else started clumsy CPR. I, still in my wedding dress, walked calmly to Bryan’s body and knelt beside it, a silent sentinel. His ghost drifted near me. Seeing my dry eyes, his face contorted with anger. “Vivian, I’m dying, and you can’t even shed a single tear?” he sneered. “So much for twenty-five years of friendship. It’s all so cheap… When I wake up, we’re done.” I acted as if I couldn’t see or hear him, my expression a blank mask. Meanwhile, after her bout of vomiting, Lena composed herself. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in perfect, glistening trails. A picture of heartbreak. Seeing her cry, Bryan’s ghostly expression softened. “Lena must be devastated,” he murmured. “How will she ever go on without me?” 13 A sharp ring cut through the air. Lena fumbled for her phone, her hand trembling as she answered. A man’s commanding voice was faintly audible. “I thought you wanted a divorce. I’m at the courthouse now…” A flash of panic crossed Lena’s pale face. She took a few steps away from the scene. Bryan’s ghost froze, instinctively reaching for her hand, only for his to pass right through. Lena lowered her voice, the tears vanishing. “Sterling, I’m sorry! I don’t want a divorce anymore… I only said that to make you angry, to make you jealous.” Hearing this, Bryan stared at the woman he had worshipped, his ghostly face a canvas of utter disbelief. How could those words come from her mouth? It couldn’t be. She must have her reasons. He desperately tried to grab her as she walked away, his form passing through hers again and again. “Lena, please, don’t go! Look back at me… I’m dying…” When he couldn’t stop her, he tried to follow, but an invisible barrier blocked his path. Bryan’s soul was tethered to me. All he could do was watch, helpless, as Lena fled the hotel. 14 The garden hotel Bryan had chosen was remote, and the ambulance took a full twenty minutes to arrive. As his body was loaded onto the gurney, his so-called friends all suddenly had “urgent business” to attend to and made their excuses. “Hey, sis-in-law,” one of them said, the man Bryan considered his best friend. “Call me if you need anything at the hospital. We’re family, after all.” I didn’t respond. He awkwardly shut the ambulance door. On the way to the hospital, Bryan’s ghost was silent. Perhaps even he was shocked by the faithlessness of the friends who had once hung on his every word. I closed my eyes and summoned the System. System, why was Bryan the one who was erased? [The name of this system is: Blame Others More, Reflect on Yourself Less.] [You worked diligently for twenty-five years and failed to win him over. Clearly, the problem was with him. So, he got erased.] I gritted my teeth. You couldn’t have told me that sooner? The System scoffed. [You never asked.] Your name really suits you. 15 At the hospital, after a flurry of activity, the doctors pronounced Bryan dead. His soul was still frantically trying to re-enter his body, crying and screaming, a whirlwind of denial, before he finally, slowly, accepted the truth. I took his body to the funeral home. I sent out notices to a few close family and friends, informing them of the funeral the next day. Once everything was arranged, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m going to visit Bryan’s mother today. Do you want to come with me?” Her voice was laced with confusion. “But it’s only the 10th. Don’t you usually visit her on the 15th of every month?” Hearing this, Bryan’s ghost flinched. “Viv… I didn’t know you visited my mom every month.” I paused. “Mom, I have to tell you something. Please, prepare yourself… Bryan is dead.” 16 My mother and Bryan’s were best friends back when they worked as maids for the Sterlings. Bryan’s mom had always doted on me, and my mom had treated Bryan like her own son. When we were little, classmates used to mock us for not having fathers. I remember smiling and telling him, “It’s okay, Bryan. We may not have dads, but we have two moms.” As we grew closer, our mothers were overjoyed. In their minds, the four of us were already a family. On the way to the nursing home, my mom couldn’t stop wiping her tears. Bryan’s soul sat in the back seat, his eyes red, lost in thought.

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The A-list actor Aaron Brown was going to be my son’s “Dad for a Day.” The entire internet was holding its breath for him. But when the live camera finally landed on my son, the chat exploded. 【Be honest, Aaron. Did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 Thanks to his cute face and impossibly calm demeanor, my son and the movie star became the internet’s new favorite duo. I was in the middle of haggling with the production team over my son’s appearance fee when he suddenly toddled over to me—just another staff member in the crowd—wrapped his arms around my legs, and chirped in his sweet, milky voice: “Mama!” Across the room, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted three years ago, looked like he’d been struck by lightning. 1 Backstage, the production team was scrambling. It was the first day of the reboot for the reality show Dad for a Day, and for the first time ever, it was being broadcast live. But the child star they had booked was a no-show, and the program was minutes away from a disastrous dead-air debut. After hearing the automated message, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable,” for the hundredth time, the director slammed his script on the floor in a fit of rage. The impact was so forceful it sent the tower of building blocks my son, Finn, had just finished constructing, tumbling to the ground. The clatter of plastic drew everyone’s attention. Based on years of experience with child-centric reality shows, they all braced for the inevitable—a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream from a toddler in his sensitive phase for order, turning the already chaotic backstage into a living nightmare. But Finn just blinked his big, curious eyes, stunned for a single second. Then, he picked up the fallen script from the floor, wobbled over to the director, handed it back to him, and calmly returned to his blocks to start rebuilding his castle. No tears. No tantrums. Just pure, unadulterated chill. The director looked as if he’d found his savior. He dropped to his knees in front of me, where I was busy applying foundation to an actress. “Leah, I’m begging you! You have to help us out!” To reassure me, he promised, “The camera angles and the tasks will be super kid-friendly, I swear. No malicious editing, no online hate mobs. We’ll protect him.” That wasn’t what I was worried about. Finn’s emotional stability rivaled that of a capybara. Even if the producers had the guts to try and stir up drama, they wouldn’t be able to get a single negative clip of him. As for his looks, I was even less concerned. I occasionally posted photos of him online, and the comments were always a flood of excitement: 【OP, just ask me the question! You know the one!】 【YES! Your kid can absolutely be a child model!】 … What I was worried about was running into a certain someone who was also scheduled to be on this show. 2 I never thought Aaron Brown would accept an offer from our network. Traditional media had been on the decline for years, and Dad for a Day was the only show our station had that was still worth anything. But last year, the director had gotten a taste for controversy. The show became a cycle of malicious editing and deliberately casting difficult children to create viral clips of celebrities having meltdowns. The backlash was so severe that the show was temporarily canceled. Aaron had just won a prestigious acting award for his latest film. He was the hottest star in the industry. The production team had sent him an offer as a long shot, never dreaming he would actually say yes. After endless pleading from the director, I finally relented and agreed to let Finn be a backup guest. Besides, he could barely talk yet. Even if he did run into Aaron, it wouldn’t be a big deal. More importantly, the one running into him right now was me. I stood in Aaron Brown’s private dressing room, my head bowed, staring at the floor. I’d been roped in at the last minute to do his makeup. “Your assistant said you were bringing your own makeup artist, so the station didn’t assign anyone…” “Aren’t you someone?” Aaron’s deep, velvety voice washed over me from above. “Leah. Raines.” He read the name on my staff ID, a name that was both familiar and strange on his lips, and let out a cold, humorless laugh. A wave of guilt sent a tingling numbness across my face. “I… I don’t know how to do makeup for men.” It was a lie, of course. Aaron’s face was so perfectly sculpted that he could have gone on camera without a drop of makeup and still looked flawless. “Haha, Leah’s just being modest! She’s the best makeup artist at our station!” the director chimed in, pulling me aside. He lowered his voice. “I’ve already hyped you up. You know what to do.” He leaned in closer. “There’s only one Aaron Brown, but the station can hire a new makeup artist anytime. And there aren’t many places that will let you bring your kid to work, are there?” I had no choice but to bite the bullet. Aaron’s skin was pale, and it took me a while to find the right shade of foundation. Just as I was about to start, his assistant stopped me with a frown. “Is that a used makeup brush?” I was a staff makeup artist. Of course, my tools were shared. “Aaron is allergic to other people’s… residual skin cells. Didn’t you do your research?” “…” “They’ve all been sanitized,” I mumbled. “And his allergic reaction isn’t that severe. It’s usually just a little sensitive around his lips.” She reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. “Can you take responsibility for that statement? If something happens to Aaron’s face, do you know how many projects it will affect? Can a little makeup artist like you afford to pay for that?” The live broadcast was about to start; the director was already counting down the seconds. I glanced at my personal makeup bag next to my suitcase and sighed. “This is all I have on hand… unless you want me to use my personal kit.” “Then use yours.” I froze. Aaron glanced at me, his tone strictly professional. “There’s no other choice, is there?” The director, terrified of being held responsible, scurried over. “Leah rarely wears makeup, but she must have used her tools a few times, right? Isn’t there still a risk of an allergic reaction?” “It’s fine,” Aaron said, his voice casual. “I’ve built up a tolerance.” His words landed like a torpedo in the small backstage room. Every single pair of eyes swiveled to look at me. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to leap out of my throat. Terrified of being assassinated by his fans at the station, I stammered, “We… we’re not a thing…” The air hung thick and still for a second. Then, Aaron’s expression turned icy. “I meant, I took my allergy medication.” Someone in the room snickered. “Leah, who asked you? As if Aaron Brown would ever look twice at you!” 3 She was right. Why would Aaron Brown ever look twice at me? He was now the Aaron Brown, the award-winning actor whose live broadcast could attract over a million viewers in the first minute. The live chat was already overflowing with sympathy for him having to appear on this show. 【His garbage agency is really pimping him out for views. Making him go on this trashy show… I still have PTSD from that screaming kid last season.】 【Some of these kids just throw things when they don’t get their way. Aaron, honey, make sure you hide your favorite guitar somewhere safe!】 【Oh god, the doorbell’s about to ring and my child-hating instincts are already kicking in.】 The camera followed Aaron as he moved. He was so tall that he completely blocked the cameraman’s view, leaving only a corner of a butter-yellow suitcase visible in the shot. It was a matching parent-child set with the one I used for my makeup tools. Aaron seemed to pause, lost in thought for a moment, before shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile. He knelt down to talk to Finn. “Hey there, little guy.” His smile was warm and inviting, but this was Finn’s first time interacting with a stranger all by himself. He was a little scared. His little mouth puckered, and his eyes welled up with tears. The director, watching from the sidelines, started freaking out into his walkie-talkie. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this kid gonna work out? Crying the second he’s on camera is going to kill our viewership!” “If it gets bad, just keep the camera locked on Aaron’s face.” But the cameraman didn’t seem to hear him. After a close-up on Aaron, he panned the camera directly onto Finn’s tear-streaked face. The director was about to unleash a torrent of curses when he noticed the live chat’s tone had suddenly shifted. 【HOLY S***!!! Aaron, be honest, did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 【Did he just make a little ‘maa’ sound? Was that for Mama? Baby, your auntie is right here!】 【This is the first time I’ve ever heard a baby cry without it being ear-splitting. I want one. Can someone just leave one on my doorstep?】 In the blink of an eye, the number of online viewers soared past ten million. The director started to panic. Worried about offending Aaron, he had planned a series of simple, easy tasks. It was fine for the fans, but he was afraid it wouldn’t be enough to keep casual viewers interested. “Should we… maybe increase the difficulty?” he mused. The moment he spoke, I raised my eyebrow razor and made a sharp, throat-slitting gesture. I was the station’s resident pushover, someone anyone could boss around. But when it came to my son, I would not yield an inch. Finn was still sniffling softly, and Aaron, who had zero experience with kids, was completely overwhelmed. He grabbed his guitar from the side, hoping to distract him. Even though Finn desperately wanted me, he sat attentively and listened to the entire song. He even provided ample emotional support, letting out happy little coos since he couldn’t speak. But the moment the song ended, it was as if his main quest objective reloaded. He started whimpering again. “Mama…” Thankfully, the popcorn I had prepared was finally passed to Aaron. The instant the sweet kernel touched his tongue, Finn’s eyes lit up. After finishing one piece, he immediately started scheming for more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and two perfect teardrops rolled down his cheeks. In front of the monitor, the entire crew melted into adoring smiles. Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. Little guys can’t have too many sweets.” He placed the popcorn bowl in a high cabinet. Based on past experiences, everyone braced for a full-blown meltdown. But Finn simply wiped his tears with the back of his hand and sat quietly on the sofa like a perfect little doll. His soft, pale skin and slightly pink nose made him look like a delicate, translucent shrimp dumpling. The live chat went into a frenzy. 【This is officially the easiest parenting challenge in the show’s history. Can we get this kid a global tour?】 【As a professional babysitter, I can confirm this child is an angel. He doesn’t scream, and he doesn’t throw a fit when you take away his snacks.】 【Forget a smooth delivery, I want a smooth pickup. I’ll take this one!】 Aaron was completely smitten. He tried to ask for his name, but Finn didn’t know how to say his own name yet. All he could say was “Mama.” I was busy arguing with the director about the appearance fee, not noticing the door had been left slightly ajar. Finn spotted my pink sweater, toddled over, and hugged my leg, his voice sweet and clear. “Mama!” Three years ago, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted, stared at me, his face a thundercloud. “How old is he?” 4 The word “one” was still caught in my throat when the director jumped in. “He’s two and a half, I think. I remember seeing it on the forms.” I suddenly remembered that when I was job hunting last year, I’d intentionally aged Finn up by a year so potential employers wouldn’t see me as a liability on maternity leave. But I really didn’t want to get entangled with Aaron again. I had to correct him. “He’s not two and a half. He’s one and a half.” The director scratched his head, completely oblivious. “Oh, is that right? My mistake then.” And just like that, the light that had just begun to dawn in Aaron’s eyes was extinguished, leaving behind the wreckage of a storm. “…” “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” he asked later, during a commercial break. I tried to keep my distance, busying myself with tidying up and placing a large box between us. But he was tall and imposing, casting a long, dark shadow over me that made the cramped storage room feel even more claustrophobic. “Why would I lie to you?” I forced a casual smile. “I’m just stating a fact.” “Besides,” I added, “have you ever seen a two-and-a-half-year-old who can only say ‘mama’? If that were the case, I’d be the one crying my eyes out.” “But—” Aaron pulled out his phone and showed me the trending topics. The top three were all about him and Finn. “Then how do you explain this? The internet doesn’t lie! They’re all saying he’s my spitting image. How could he not be my son?” For a moment, I was tempted to pull out Finn’s birth certificate to prove it. But as my eyes moved away from the screen, I caught sight of his “suggested for you” search history. 【Is it normal for a two-and-a-half-year-old not to be able to talk?】 【Is it possible to be pregnant for a year and a half?】 【What are the chances of getting back together after a brutal breakup?】 What an idiot. But that was exactly what I’d fallen for—that unguarded, all-in passion. The problem was, the “me” he had fallen for wasn’t the real me. Back then, betrayed by both my boyfriend and my own family, I was afraid I was losing my mind. I dropped everything and escaped to a rustic ranch retreat in the countryside. I adopted a new name, a new personality, and surrounded myself with people who knew nothing about my past. The Leah I was there was sunny, confident, and radiant, capable of creating her own happiness. The real me was plain, insecure, and timid, constantly plagued by self-doubt. So, on the train ride back to the city, terrified that Aaron would eventually fall for someone else, I broke up with him over a text message. Though we had met again by a twist of fate, since he had forgotten, I had no intention of bringing it up. I curved my stiff lips into what I hoped was a relaxed smile. “My son doesn’t just look like you.” I casually let my phone screen light up, showing an incoming call from “Arthur Brown.” Aaron’s uncle. 5 Arthur Brown did not approve of me. But the moment he heard that the only heir of his late older brother wanted to get back together with me, he drove thirty miles straight to the TV station. The entire studio held its breath as he strode onto the set. It was almost jarring to see another face as handsome as Aaron’s. Years as a titan of industry had given Arthur a refined, aristocratic air that was uniquely his own. The online viewership numbers hit a new record. 【Did the show change formats? What other surprises are they hiding from us?】 【I don’t mind watching two handsome men raise a baby together. This is the kind of content we women need to get through the day!】 【So which one of them is the donor? The government wants us to have more kids, can we just get them to do a global donation tour?】 The director, who had been annoyed by the unexpected interruption, was now grinning so wide the wrinkles on his face could trap flies. “The ratings are secured!” His smile vanished a second later. Arthur’s assistant was ordering him to shut down the live stream. “On what grounds?” “On the grounds that eighty-five percent of your station’s advertising revenue for the past two years has come from the Brown Corporation.” The Brown Corporation’s sponsorship had started last year, right after I joined the station. Finn had been seriously ill, and I was desperate for money, but the struggling station was asking us to take a pay cut. At my lowest point, Arthur had suddenly appeared. He paid for all of Finn’s medical bills and then tried to give me hush money. I refused it. I never had any intention of telling Aaron about the child. But Arthur was cautious. He kept in touch, always finding some pretext to check in on me. “So the baby is yours, Uncle Arthur?” “When did you two get together? Are you married? How come I never knew?” Aaron fired off a volley of questions, grinding his teeth so hard I thought they might crack. “We’re not married. It was just a one-night stand.” I stirred my juice with a straw, wanting to end this entanglement as quickly as possible. The words slipped out, light and careless. Beside me, Arthur seemed to turn to stone. He was only five years older than Aaron and had been a strict, paternal figure to his nephew ever since his brother passed away. He was meticulous about his reputation, terrified of setting a bad example. In that single moment, the dignified, reserved image he had cultivated for years crumbled into dust. After a long pause, he finally picked up where I left off. “Heh, that’s right.” “Miss Raines and I will handle the child’s affairs together. Since you two have already broken up, it’s best you keep your distance.” “Keep my distance?” Aaron scoffed, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you, Uncle?” “Bringing a child into the world and then abandoning him, not even giving his mother a proper title…” He caught himself, quickly backtracking. “No, that’s not right. Anyway, since you two have no feelings for each other, I think it would be best if I raised the child. A proper moral upbringing is important, after all.” Arthur nudged me with his elbow. I thought he was annoyed at my reckless comment. Instead, he pulled out a diamond ring the size of a pigeon’s egg. “You’re right. Which is why I’ve been considering giving the child a complete family.” “Miss Raines, will you marry me?” Me: ? Aaron: !!!

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In the seventh year of my mission, Tim Stan’s first love killed herself. He cashed in his entire lifetime of good fortune, begging the System for the power to turn back time. He returned to the fateful moment he chose me over her. “This time,” he vowed, “I won’t let Willow suffer again.” He abandoned his wife and child, all for a second chance with the woman he truly loved. But he didn’t know— The System sent me back with him. And as compensation, my mission was over. I no longer had to be anyone’s wife or anyone’s mother. This time, I could just be me. 1 The System found me while I was in the kitchen, making a hangover cure for Tim. The familiar electronic voice echoed in my mind. [Host, it has been a while.] [The second male lead, Tim Stan, has petitioned the Overlord to rewind time, offering his life’s fortune in exchange. We are required to seek your consent.] [As your mission is already complete, you have the right to veto his request.] Crash. The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I turned, stunned. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with empty liquor bottles. There, beneath our family portrait, sat Tim, slumped in defeat. In his hands, he clutched a worn photograph of her—Willow Hayes. He stared at the smiling girl in the picture, his eyes bloodshot and wild with grief. “If I had known… I never should have let you go to him,” he choked out. “I should have stayed by your side, protected you, made sure you lived a happy life.” “How could you be so cruel? Why didn’t you think of me? Why didn’t you think of your big brother?” He was laughing and crying at the same time, a wounded, animalistic sound tearing from his throat. I watched him, a cold realization dawning on me. All this time. Even after all the years I had devoted to winning him over, even after marrying him and giving him a child… To him, I was still just the consolation prize. A convenient, laughable shield he used so Willow could chase her own happiness without guilt. 2 After a near-fatal car accident, I was bound to a Transmigration System. The world I entered was a novel, a classic romance about a neglectful hero who has to grovel to win back the woman he wronged. The hero, Damian Thorne, and the heroine, Willow Hayes, had a torturous love story that, after countless trials, ended in reconciliation. And Tim Stan was the devoted second male lead, the one who watched over her from afar and never married. The conflict between Tim and Damian exploded midway through the story. Damian was in the groveling phase of his character arc, clumsily trying to win Willow back. At the same time, Willow had become aware of the unspoken love her adoptive brother, Tim, held for her, and she was trapped in a painful state of guilt and indecision. The System told me my mission was to earn 100% of Tim’s affection. So, in the tenth year of my mission, when Tim set off a city’s worth of fireworks for me, got down on one knee in front of both Willow and Damian, and asked me to marry him… When I heard the System’s voice announce, [Congratulations, Host. Mission complete.]… I wept with joy. I chose to tell Tim everything—about the System, about the fact that his world was a book. And I chose to stay, to live out a new life with him, free from the novel’s plot. I had no one in my original world. As long as I could live, it didn’t matter where. Besides, somewhere along the way, I had truly fallen in love with him. I still remembered his trembling hands as he held out the ring, the frantic beating of his heart, the love that filled his eyes under the cascading fireworks. But it was all a lie. Tim had deceived everyone, including the System, all to free his precious girl from her guilt so she could run into another man’s arms. Now, seven years later, the novel’s plot had concluded. Willow discovered that Damian had cheated on her, that her happily-ever-after was a sham. She fell into a deep depression and jumped from a building. Her white dress had blossomed into a crimson flower in the wind. Only then did Tim finally feel regret. And in his desperation to go back and save her, he tore open the bloody, horrifying truth. How laughable. From beginning to end, Willow was his only destination. 3 “Tim, when you decided to go back, did you think about me and Caleb? Even for a second?” I asked him, clinging to one last sliver of hope. Caleb was our son, born in the first year of our marriage. He was premature, and his condition at birth was critical. Tim had the world’s best medical equipment and specialists flown in. He stood vigil outside the ICU for a week straight, without sleep. Only when our son was out of danger did he finally collapse from exhaustion, sleeping for three days and three nights. When he woke up, he bought three minor planets and named them after the three of us. He held our son and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, his eyes overflowing with love. “My love,” he’d whispered, “thank you for choosing to stay in this world for me. I swear, I, Tim Stan, will never let you down. From now on, our family will be like the stars in the sky, together forever.” It was because of Caleb that both Willow and I believed he had truly moved on, that he was wholeheartedly devoted to me. It was Caleb who sparked in Willow a longing for marriage and family of her own. After a few more rounds of drama with Damian, she finally accepted his proposal, and the story officially reached its grand finale. And now… Tim looked up at me, his eyes a terrifying, inhuman shade of red. He wasn’t surprised the System had told me. “You don’t have to worry,” he said flatly. “Just like you transmigrated into this book, when I turn back time, it will be like going to a parallel universe. Time in this world will freeze. Once I’ve helped Willow live a long and happy life, I’ll come back. You and Caleb will be fine.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted back to the photograph, tender and full of longing. He seemed completely oblivious to how utterly insane he sounded. My voice was hoarse. “You mean, after you go back, save Willow, and grow old with her, you’re just going to come back here and continue living with us?” Perhaps the raw despair in my voice finally got through to him. He tore his eyes away from his memories and looked at me, confused. “But I already helped you complete your mission, didn’t I? I gave you a second chance at life. How can you ask for more from me and Willow?” That single look sent a chill through my bones. I couldn’t stop shivering. His meaning was simple. I was the one who had stolen the love that rightfully belonged to Willow. I was a thief. And as a thief, I had no right to stop him from returning what he had stolen. It’s hard to describe the feeling. Before I could even process the grief, another blow landed. The phone rang. Our son, Caleb, was missing. 4 I called the police. I checked the security footage. I drove around his school all night, searching. He was only six. A little boy so pampered he refused to ride in anything but a sports car, a boy I had to coax into eating every meal. Why? Why would he pack his little backpack and trudge out into the pouring rain, only to vanish into a surveillance blind spot? Panic consumed me. Caleb was so young. It was dark, it was raining… what if he ran into someone dangerous? A tidal wave of regret washed over me. I should have picked him up myself. I shouldn’t have been so caught up with Tim. I collapsed onto the floor and finally began to sob. Seeing me in a state of utter breakdown, Tim stood up, a faint sneer in his eyes. “I know where he is.” “I’ll take you.” I didn’t have time to think. I clung to him like a drowning person to a piece of driftwood and followed. He wasn’t lying. He really knew where Caleb was. When we arrived, Caleb was holding his tiny umbrella, struggling through the downpour. He, who was usually so fussy about cleanliness, who had a mild pollen allergy, was covered in mud. He didn’t seem to notice. He was carrying a large bouquet of wild daisies, which he placed reverently in front of Willow’s tombstone. His eyes were red as he leaned against the black-and-white photograph on the stone. “Auntie Willow, I miss you so much.” “Daddy said you’re not really his sister. He said… you were supposed to be my mommy.” “I wish you were my mommy…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I dropped my umbrella and rushed forward to take him home. But he fought me, kicking and screaming. “No! I don’t want to leave Auntie Willow! It was you! You took Daddy away from her! You stole me from her tummy! I don’t want a wicked woman like you to be my mom!” He bit down hard on my wrist. Blood trickled down my arm, mixing with the rain. I cried out in pain and let him go. He scrambled away like a wounded animal seeking shelter and hid behind the tombstone, behind the cold, black-and-white photograph that offered him more security than his own living mother. Tim stood by, arms crossed, watching the whole scene with cold detachment, as if I weren’t his wife, as if Caleb weren’t his son. The only time his expression changed was when I stumbled and nearly crushed the daisies. He strode forward, his voice like ice. “Don’t get dirt on Willow’s favorite flowers.” I shoved him away, my eyes locked on Caleb. “Caleb… do you really not want me to be your mommy anymore?” He nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes. If I could choose, I would want Auntie Willow to be my mom.” “Fine,” I said, nodding. I turned and walked away without a single backward glance at the father and son mourning their lost love in the rain. 5 Tim’s theory about parallel worlds was correct. What he didn’t know was that as compensation for his time travel, I had a choice. [If the Host chooses to return as well, this world will collapse and reboot.] [In the new timeline, the Host will no longer be bound by any mission and will be free to choose her own path.] The System’s electronic voice sounded almost cheerful. [Consider it a small humanitarian gesture from the Overlord for our returning agents.] [Host, have you decided? Will you stay or go?] I was momentarily stunned. No more missions. Then, a sense of relief washed over me. It made sense. I had already completed my task. The time reversal wasn’t my fault, so I shouldn’t have to work again. Out of a final, lingering sense of maternal duty, I asked, “What will happen to Caleb?” The System paused. [If Tim succeeds in saving Willow Hayes, Caleb will be born as their child.] I smiled softly. “Well, that’s the best possible outcome, isn’t it?” I would get health, freedom, and wealth. Tim and his son would get the woman they’d always dreamed of. The System sounded confused. [Are you not sad? You spent almost all of your accumulated points to ensure he could be born within the story’s original timeline, a child who was never meant to exist.] Sad? Maybe a little. But a new beginning was right in front of me. A life free from missions, untethered, completely my own. It was waving at me with open arms. Before, I had no choice. Now, I wanted to be myself. I shook my head. “Let’s go back.” This was their choice. Let them have it. A flash of white light, and I was back, six years in the past. The moment I opened my eyes, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Before I could even see who had hit me, I reacted on instinct, my own hand flying out to return the slap. Tim’s furious face came into focus. “Genevieve, are you insane?” Behind him, Willow Hayes was clutching her cheek, tears streaming silently down her face. The grand ballroom buzzed with the chatter of guests. Someone whispered, “Has the Sterling heiress lost her mind?” “Everyone knows Willow is the apple of Tim’s eye. It was just a dress. Was it really necessary to cause such a scene?” I remembered now. This was six years ago, at the engagement party for my arranged marriage with Tim. Willow, in an attempt to stop Tim from marrying a woman he didn’t love, had shown up wearing the exact same gown as me. “Genevieve,” she had hissed at me, “do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a cold, loveless transaction? Marriage should be about love, not business!” That was Willow’s logic. Love conquered all. Even though she hadn’t figured out her own feelings for Tim, she knew he loved her. So, to save him from a loveless, financially motivated marriage, she had come to crash the party. Back then, I had just smiled. “And can you give him that happiness?” I’d asked. “You know you two have no future, yet you come here to play the righteous hero. You give him hope only to snatch it away. Do you really think you’re so noble, Willow?” She couldn’t answer. She had stammered, her face turning crimson, and then shrieked as she slapped me. “This is between me and Tim! It’s none of your business!” The first time around, to protect my image in front of Tim and maintain his fragile affection score, I hadn’t fought back. But things were different now. So I slapped him too, right across the face, for getting in my way. Then, as he stared at me in disbelief, I shook my head slowly, a wild, unrestrained smile spreading across my face. “I’m not insane, Tim.” “I’m calling off the engagement.”

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Four years into our arranged marriage, and to Richard, I was still nothing. He could never get over his first love, so he filled our life with her pale imitations. He was brazen enough to bring them into our home, to tangle with them on the very couch I’d picked out for what I hoped would be our life together. When I caught him, he’d rest his head on my shoulder like a spoiled child, trying to charm his way out of it. That time, I slapped him. I shoved him away as he warned me, “It’s just a marriage, Ellie. Don’t get jealous.” But all I felt was a wave of relief. That was close. A second longer, and he would have seen the bite mark on my neck. 1. The sight of clothes strewn across the living room floor made my knees nearly give out. There, on the very couch I’d chosen with the naive hope of building a life with a man I loved, Richard was wrapped around a young woman. The angry red marks on her shoulders spoke volumes of my husband’s recent passion. Her eyes met mine, and in an instant, I understood. She was just like all the others—a ghost of his first love. She flushed, burrowing into Richard’s embrace. “Mrs. Thorne…” Richard just kissed her cheek. “Sweetheart, my wife’s home. Go get dressed upstairs.” The girl pouted, clearly reluctant, but gathered her clothes and went. I rubbed my temples. “I thought you were picking me up today. Why did you bring her here?” Richard pulled on his shirt with a lazy grace, his hands finding my temples and expertly massaging them. “The poor girl was just curious to see where I lived,” he murmured. “She’s so charming when she pouts, I couldn’t say no.” My heart stuttered. In four years, other women had tried to force their way into our home, and Richard had cut them loose without a second thought. The cloying, sweet scent in the air turned my stomach. “You promised you wouldn’t bring anyone home.” He nuzzled my shoulder, his voice a low, intimate purr. “She wore me down, Ellie. Besides, I sent Liam to get you. You know he’s the most dependable.” His chin brushed against my collar, and my heart leaped into my throat. My hand shot out on pure instinct, the slap cracking in the quiet room. Richard chuckled, a low, amused sound. “What’s this, Eleanor? A tantrum?” I pulled my collar tighter, my breath catching in my chest. He’d been so close to seeing the vivid, angry bite mark hidden just beneath the fabric. I thought of the man he called “dependable,” of how he had pinned my shoulders against the wall, his teeth sinking into my skin with desperate force. “I can’t wait anymore. When the hell are you going to divorce him?” I fought to keep my face cool and composed until Richard finally headed upstairs, the sounds of shameless flirtation soon echoing from the guest room. This was his punishment for my defiance. Early in our marriage, I would have screamed, I would have cried. He would have offered a few bored explanations before finding crueler, more inventive ways to remind me of my place. But now, I just remembered my answer to that desperate question, whispered in a haze of illicit passion. “Soon. I think it’s going to be very soon.” 2. My marriage to Richard was rotten from the start. His first love was from a poor family, and the Thornes had driven her out of Northwood City. Unable to defy them, Richard had agreed to an arranged marriage with me. The bitter truth was, I loved him. Years ago, my mother, citing my posture as ‘unladylike,’ had lashed my back with a riding crop and forbidden me from eating. At the gala we attended that night, I could barely stand. Richard, a complete stranger, was the only one who noticed. In a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, he slipped me a small tube of ointment and a pastry. “It’ll get better,” he’d whispered. So when he was proposed as my match, I was ecstatic. I thought I’d won. For the first two years, I poured every ounce of love I had into being the perfect Mrs. Thorne, believing that my devotion would eventually be returned. But in four years of marriage, every woman he sought out was a carbon copy of her. The illusion shattered a year ago, when I saw him eat the grapes his secretary peeled for him without a second thought. Richard was a notorious mysophobe; I’d once placed a stalk of asparagus in his bowl, and he’d thrown the entire thing out, bowl and all. In that moment, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. In a world of high-stakes mergers and cold transactions, I was the idiot chasing love. 3. I hadn’t expected Richard to get so attached to this particular girl. When I arrived at the party on his yacht at the racing club, he was lounging on a sofa, the girl, Mia, draped over him, playing the part of the queen. Richard’s best friend, Liam, was seething. “Have you completely forgotten you have a wife?” Richard didn’t even glance his way. “Even if my wife were here, she wouldn’t say a thing.” He smirked, his eyes finding me across the room. “Right, Ellie?” Heads turned. Liam instinctively moved as if to block my view of them. The night wind coming off the sea was cold, chilling my expression. “Mia, is it?” I said, my voice level. “Get off.” I’d noticed the swarm of media boats near the port on my way in. A playful smirk touched Richard’s lips, but his arm only tightened around Mia’s waist. I glanced out the window at the flotilla of speedboats, unable to tell which ones held paparazzi. “Richard. Either she goes, or I go.” His hand didn’t move. “Is that so? Well, if my wife insists… then you can go.” I pressed a hand to my chest, a familiar numbness spreading through me. I was about to say more when the unmistakable flash of a camera lit up the window. They’d gotten their shot. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” I turned and walked toward the deck, missing the way Richard’s face darkened as he abruptly stood, sending Mia tumbling to the floor. My phone buzzed. It was my assistant. I found a secluded corner to take the call. “Ms. Byrd, the final asset transfers are almost complete. No one has traced them back to us.” A genuine smile finally broke through my icy composure. “Excellent. Keep going.” The good news lifted my spirits, and I decided to take a stroll. But as I passed a dark corridor, a hand shot out and yanked me into a storage closet. The room was pitch-black, the moonlight unable to pierce the gloom. I felt warm lips press against my neck, and a voice, thick with hurt, murmured in my ear. “I won today. Why didn’t you come see me?” 4. I sagged against him, letting Liam hold me. “And let the media have another field day? ‘The Pathetic Mrs. Thorne, Still Groveling After Her Husband at a Race.’ No, thank you.” Everyone knew our marriage was a sham. Every time I showed up for one of Richard’s races, the tabloids had a feast. In the darkness, the man behind me went still. “I’m sorry.” Then, as if angered by his own apology, he spun me around, his mouth finding mine in the dark and crushing it with a desperate force. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he growled against my lips. “He humiliates you like that, and I don’t even have the right to be angry!” Overwhelmed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing closer. “You’re right, I am humiliated,” I whispered. “Maybe giving me the Southport development project would cheer me up.” His mood didn’t lighten. A sharp pain bloomed on my lip. He’d bitten me. “I’m serious, Eleanor. Just divorce him. Please.” I traced the line of his jaw. “You don’t understand.” The air grew cold. After a long moment, Liam pushed me away. “Fine. Do what you want. But I’m done playing this little game of house, sneaking around in the shadows.” He threw the door open and was gone. I sighed, smoothing my hair before stepping back into the light. The party was now in full swing. In the center of the dance floor, Richard and Mia were locked in a sensual dance, their bodies grinding together as her lips brushed against his, once, twice, three times. I picked up a glass of champagne, thinking it was probably for the best. When the song ended, Richard spotted me. He walked over, smoothly took the glass from my hand, and drained it. I frowned but said nothing. “So, Ellie? What did you think? A good show?” I considered it. “Very beautiful.” They were a stunning pair, their movements more artful than sleazy. It was, objectively, easy on the eyes. Richard’s smile froze, then faded. “Is that so.” He was angry, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. And I was too tired to care. As the party broke up, his mood was still dark. The chauffeur was about to pull away when a figure darted out in front of the car. 5. Richard’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I arranged for a car to take you home.” Mia stood her ground. “I sent him away. I’ve been drinking tonight, Richard. I want you to stay with me.” I leaned against the window, watching my husband navigate his affair with a detached curiosity. Richard’s brow furrowed. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home.” Her lower lip trembled, her eyes welling with tears. “No. If you’re angry, then just tell the driver to run me over.” The breathtaking arrogance of someone who knows they are loved. Just as I expected, Richard’s expression softened. He turned to me. “Ellie, if you don’t want her in the car, I’ll send her away.” I opened my door. “It’s fine. It’s late and not safe. It’s normal for a young woman to want some attention.” I moved to the front seat. “You two take the back.” From behind me, I heard Richard laugh. “Well, if my wife doesn’t mind, get in.” But Mia didn’t move. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, were fixed on Richard. “But… I’m not used to sharing a car with another woman. I have… so many secrets I want to tell you.” Richard tapped my shoulder. “Ellie, you heard her.” I closed my eyes in weary resignation. “It’s one in the morning. She won’t find a cab out here.” Still, she stood there, a stubborn statue in the headlights. Richard got out and opened my door himself. “Get out. I thought you were supposed to be the understanding one.” I stood on the curb as Mia slid into the car, flashing me a triumphant smile. “Richard, I love your racing trophy. Can I play with it?” The car sped off, and I heard Richard’s voice drift back on the wind. “It’s not worth much. Play with it all you want.” A bitter laugh escaped me. Richard was intensely territorial. His possessions were sacred. Once, I had merely tried to dust one of his trophies, and he had screamed at me. The difference between being loved and not being loved was brutally clear. He loved his first love, and by extension, even her substitute was granted special privileges. The car disappeared, leaving me alone with the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sea and sky blended into a single, dark expanse. I rubbed my arms against the chill, feeling utterly alone in the vastness of the world. Then, a jacket was thrown unceremoniously over my shoulders. “Still watching? What’s so fascinating about a scumbag like that? If you’re actually upset, I’ll lose all respect for you.” The scent of jealousy was thick in the air. I shook my head, blinking back the single tear that threatened to fall, and turned, burying my face in his chest. “I thought you were done with me.” 6. Liam’s cedarwood cologne enveloped me. “Don’t get cocky, Eleanor. I didn’t give in to you. I gave in to myself.” I got into his car. “Where to? Your place or mine?” he asked. I shook my head. “Home.” After the fiasco on the yacht, I knew the paparazzi photos would soon be everywhere. My life was about to get very complicated. Liam didn’t argue, but he drove the car further and further away from the city, until the lights and buildings vanished behind us. He parked on a deserted overlook, got out, and walked around to my side. He lifted me into his arms, settled back into the driver’s seat, and positioned me so I was straddling his lap. Our faces were an inch apart. His eyes burned into mine. “Eleanor, I’ve been your dirty little secret for a long time. Don’t you think I deserve a reward for being so easily placated?” I leaned in and gave him a soft, fleeting kiss. But he gripped my waist, pulling me tighter. “One day, Ellie,” he murmured against my mouth, “I’m going to kiss you in the daylight for the whole world to see.” The air in the car thickened with a heady, forbidden energy. As my senses began to swim, I managed to whisper, “Is that so? Then you’d better hurry up.” Steam slowly fogged the windows, blurring the world outside, and for a long time, there was only us. Later, Liam patiently dressed me and drove me home. But when he pulled up to my house, he couldn’t let me go. “I’ll hurry, Ellie. I promise.” I nodded, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his cheek. “Good. I’ll be waiting.” I never expected Richard to be home. After Mia’s performance tonight, I’d been sure he’d stay with her. But as I opened the door, there he was, sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Why are you so late?” “I thought you’d know, since you abandoned me at the port,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s not easy to get a cab from there. I waited a long time.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He stood, about to say something. But then his gaze dropped to my mouth. The guilt vanished, replaced by a storm of pure rage that twisted his features into a terrifying mask. He lunged forward, his thumb pressing hard against my lips, smearing and rubbing until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I realized then that my lips were swollen and bruised. “Eleanor,” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Tell me. Who the hell are you cheating on me with?” 7. His fingers clamped around my jaw, the pressure excruciating. “I… don’t have a taste for affairs,” I choked out. “I just tripped and hit my mouth. Think about it, Richard. In all these years, after everything you’ve done, have I ever once been unfaithful to you?” I had guarded my secret with Liam meticulously. But Richard’s fury only grew. He dragged me into the bathroom and slammed me against the mirror. “Look at yourself, Eleanor! Look at the state you’re in!” “Tell me who he is!” he roared. “Who dares to make a fool of me? I’ll destroy him!” I shakily met my own reflection. My hair and clothes were perfectly neat. But my face was flushed with a lingering heat, and my lips were swollen to a bright, bee-stung red that my lipstick couldn’t conceal. I looked like a ripe peach, bruised and ready to burst. My mind raced. Finally, I let a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. “You’re right. I went out and found someone. A male model from a club. He was attentive, and his words were so sweet.” “Why should you be the only one to have your fun, Richard?” I taunted. “Your Mias and your Chloes. Don’t I deserve a little entertainment of my own? It’s only fair.” The storm on his face unexpectedly cleared. He released my jaw, a look of twisted pleasure dawning in his eyes. “Ellie,” he breathed, almost delighted. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” I rubbed my aching jaw, my answer deliberately vague. “Does it matter?” His mood lifted instantly. He stroked my cheek, his voice softening. “Fine. I’ll get rid of Mia. That’s simple enough. But Eleanor, don’t you dare mess around outside this house. Your family is depending on you.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the cold triumph in my eyes. “Yes. I know.” Our marriage was, after all, a lifeline my family had begged for. 8. The next morning, as predicted, my phone blew up with entertainment alerts. They were all about Richard and Mia’s intimate night on the yacht. Then, the call I was expecting came. “Eleanor. Come home.” The moment I stepped into my father’s study, a heavy water glass flew at my head. It missed, shattering against the wall, but the message was clear. My mother stood by, a riding crop in her hand, her expression like ice. I knew that crop intimately. It was the author of the faint, silvery scars that would forever mar my back. “Eleanor, you’ve been married for years and you still can’t control your own husband. Your father is very disappointed.” A sharp pain lanced through my shoulder, a phantom echo of past punishments. By the time she was done, I was numb. My lips felt thick as I mumbled, “Is that enough? If you’re going to keep going, you should probably call an ambulance first.” The sound of the crop whipping through the air was the sound of the last, frayed thread of affection between us snapping. My mother stopped, as if waking from a trance. She dropped the crop and stared at my bleeding back, her face crumpling. “Oh, Ellie…” she sobbed, rushing forward. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m just so scared… so scared of making your father angry.” She fumbled to apply ointment, her large, guilty tears splashing onto my raw skin. It was a jarring transformation from the merciless woman who had wielded the crop moments before. This was her pattern. My father was a philanderer; my illegitimate half-sister was only a year younger than me. He doted on his other family, showering them with affection. My mother and I only received his smiles when I excelled, when my achievements brought him glory. So, my mother learned her lesson. My success was her weapon to win back her husband’s favor. When I failed, she grew angry. And when she was angry, I was punished. After every beating, she would cry, apologize, and whisper how much she loved me, coddling me through the pain late into the night. With those tiny, rationed crumbs of love, she had controlled me for over twenty years. As a child, I would have said, “It doesn’t hurt, Mom. Please don’t cry. I’ll make Daddy proud.” But now, I pushed her hands away. I walked to the door and looked back at her, my voice formal and final. “Goodbye, Mother.”

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