My wrists were cuffed, spread wide, shackled to opposite sides of the bed. My skin was a tapestry of purpling bruises and angry bite marks. Damien lay sprawled by the bed, lazily dragging on a cigarette. Then, with a practiced ease, he gripped my jaw, prying my mouth open before leaning in to kiss me. He watched my face flush crimson as I choked, a slow, dark smile spreading across his lips. “I told you,” he purred, “run again, and I’ll break your legs.” The dim lights of the bar cast a hazy glow over the counter, the air thick with the thumping bass of music and the roar of a hundred conversations. My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket, but I ignored it, letting the vibrations fade into the background noise. “Hey,” the girl in front of me chirped, pushing a glass across the bar. “This rum cocktail is on me. It’s the house special!” I took the glass, swirling the amber liquid idly. Through the ice, I caught a glimpse of her smile, a little too wide, a little too stiff. “You’re not drinking?” I asked. “Oh, I don’t really drink much myself,” she said, her forced smile still in place. “But since I dragged you out here, I had to treat you to something, right?” I didn’t reply. I just lowered my gaze, gently swirling the drink in my hand. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It’s actually pretty good, you should just try a…” “Of course he won’t drink your poisoned little concoction.” A man in gold-rimmed glasses appeared out of nowhere, striding directly towards me. He smoothly plucked the glass from my hand. “Wh-what do you mean drugged? Why would I ever hurt him?” she stammered, her voice thin with panic. “Then drink it yourself.” Damien’s gaze was fixed on her terrified face as he thrust the glass back into her trembling hand. “I… I don’t drink,” she stammered, fumbling the glass. It crashed to the floor with a loud *smash*, shards scattering as she recoiled, eyes wide with fear. “Tsk. Such a golden opportunity, wasted,” Damien purred, his fingers pinching her cheek, a predatory smile on his face. “You’ll regret not drinking that glass later, I promise.” “Take her upstairs,” he ordered, his smile turning chillingly cold. “Make sure she gets a little… *treatment*. Let her know exactly what she threw away by crossing me.” “Damien,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. His head snapped towards me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Instinctively, I lowered my gaze, avoiding his direct stare. “My dear brother, aren’t you going to be a good boy?” he purred, his fingers lightly tapping my cheek. “Why are you running around without your big brother’s permission?” He then plucked my phone from my pocket. “Remember to answer my calls on time from now on,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And… you shouldn’t have called out to me just now, Julian.” I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. “Don’t you want to stay and watch her apologize to you? Hmm?” Damien’s gaze burned into my back. “No,” I replied, not breaking my stride. I kept walking, only to be stopped by two hulking figures blocking my path. Damien slowly approached, slinging an arm around my shoulder, a chilling smile playing on his lips. “Come on, Julian. You’ve come all this way. Let’s have a drink and wait for the main event to begin.” In the main hall of the bar, men and women swayed and twisted to the pulsating music, while the bartender, bathed in a kaleidoscope of lights, expertly shook cocktails. From upstairs, muffled cries of distress echoed, the woman’s agony mingling with the crude laughter and lewd remarks of men, all barely contained behind a closed door. “Mmm, this drink is excellent,” Damien purred, his eyes fixed on me, a taunting smile playing on his lips. “Why aren’t you drinking, Julian? Big brother wouldn’t drug you like that *bad girl* did, would he?” His gaze, though, was chilling, like a viper ready to strike. I snatched the glass from the table and downed it in one gulp. “When can I leave?” I demanded, my voice tight with impatience. Damien glanced at his watch. “Hmm, just about time. Let’s go, Julian. Let’s see how our little friend is doing.” The door swung open, revealing Chloe. The girl who had been smiling just moments ago now lay on the floor like a broken rag doll. Her clothes were torn, her body smeared with sickening red and white fluids. Her face was streaked with tears, hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen. Her pale skin was a canvas of purpling bruises. My hands instinctively clenched into fists, a movement Damien caught from the corner of his eye. “Tell me,” Damien said, sauntering over to a nearby couch and seating himself. “Who sent you?” His men forced Chloe to her knees before him. Her eyes were vacant, her mind clearly still reeling from the horrors she’d just endured. “Start talking,” he pressed, his voice dangerously soft. “And be detailed. Otherwise… your brother…” The mere mention of ‘brother’ seemed to shock Chloe back to life. She struggled, her voice raw and hoarse. “No… don’t hurt him!” “That depends on how cooperative you are,” Damien drawled, roughly slapping Chloe’s face. “How could you try to harm *my* brother, all for the sake of your own?” He leaned close to her ear, his voice a chilling whisper. “You’d better go explain yourself to Julian. Otherwise… I’ll just have to collect my dues from your dear brother instead.” At his words, Chloe’s eyes filled with raw terror. She scrambled, crawling on her hands and knees towards me, clutching at my pants leg, her voice a desperate plea. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you! After I saved you that day, a… a bunch of terrifying men came to my small shop. They looked like devils, and they… they threatened me with knives! They said if I didn’t do what they told me, they’d kill my little brother. He’s only eight, he doesn’t understand anything. He’s in the hospital right now, still recovering from a car accident. Please, please, just let him go! Please!” The girl sobbed uncontrollably. I knew, of course, that she had drugged my drink. That’s why I’d kept swirling the glass, never taking a sip. I’d even suspected she was acting under duress. But I had drastically underestimated Damien’s possessiveness. I’d foolishly thought he’d turn his fury on those who orchestrated this whole thing. I never imagined that monster would unleash his rage on the victim herself. “Can I leave now?” I asked, looking at Damien, who sat on the couch, watching the spectacle unfold with a detached amusement. “How do you want to handle her, Julian?” he asked. “Do whatever you want. I’m going home.” I turned to walk away. The men at the door moved to stop me, but Damien raised a hand, dismissing them. And just like that, I walked out. The moment I was out of sight, Damien’s smile vanished. He stood, walked to the back of the room, and pulled back the heavy curtains. His eyes were glued to my figure as I exited the bar and got into a car, watching until I was completely gone. “Chop off the hand she touched me with, then mince it up for the dogs,” Damien said, his voice devoid of emotion as he walked from the window back to Chloe. “After that, make her swallow the rest of that poison she had for Julian, and dump her in front of the Sterling Syndicate’s factory. After all, what goes around, comes around, right?” “I… I understand now… Please… don’t!” Chloe whimpered, tears streaming down her face. “How about your brother takes your place then?” Damien suggested, his eyes cold as he watched the girl’s ashen face. “He’s a vegetable anyway, could die at any moment. Isn’t trading his life for yours a pretty good deal?” “N-no… you can’t!” Chloe wailed, fresh tears streaming down her face. She had practically raised her little brother. He was so smart and sweet. The car accident happened when he was just trying to help her by picking up groceries. Some reckless driver ran a red light, hit him, and fled. She’d borrowed money from everyone she knew, just to cover his medical bills and barely keep him alive. Even though he was in a vegetative state, as long as there was a flicker of hope, she’d never give up on him. Her own life was already ruined, but what would happen to her brother if she was gone? Chloe was dragged out, silenced. “Hmph, a truly devoted sister,” Damien scoffed, a dark amusement in his voice. “Go ahead and cover her brother’s ongoing medical expenses.” “Yes, Master Damien,” his subordinate replied.

“From now on, I don’t want you going out at night, alright?” Damien said, his gaze fixed on me as I sat on the couch, a flicker of disturbing obsession in his eyes. “I’m a person, not a pet,” I retorted, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper in my hands. “How can you say that about yourself?” he murmured, crossing the room and settling beside me, his arm snaking around my shoulders. “I’m just worried you’ll get hurt out there. Look, someone tried to drug you today.” He paused, squeezing my shoulder. “So, don’t make big brother worry, alright?” His words were soft, but laced with a chilling undercurrent of threat. ‘Brother?’ I scoffed internally. He was nothing more than a rabid dog. Ever since Father died, Damien – the one Father brought home and who’d always harbored a strange, possessive obsession with me – had grown progressively worse. I had to escape, and fast.

Damien’s hand tightened around mine, his eyes gleaming with a possessive affection, as if I were a precious pet cradled in his arms. “Kill him.” His voice was still soft, almost tender, utterly detached from the chilling command he’d just uttered. He shifted his gaze to the man tied to the target post opposite us, his eyes filled with sheer disgust. The man’s eyes, wide with rage and despair, were fixed on us. His mouth was tightly taped shut, allowing only muffled whimpers to escape. “Why?” I asked, my voice flat, my eyes lowered. “Hmm, let me think,” Damien mused, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “His reason for dying. Is it because he betrayed me, or tried to kill you, or… is it simply because… he wanted to take you away?” My hand, gripping the gun, tightened. Did he know? No… that was impossible. This plan was a last-minute decision, even I’d only found out recently. It was just bad luck that Damien had stumbled upon us. How could he possibly know…? Looking at the man before me, tortured beyond recognition, I couldn’t stop trembling. It felt like I was back years ago, witnessing Damien pour scalding hot oil over someone’s face. This man was always ruthless. If he knew that I hadn’t been forcibly taken during the raid, but had actively gone along, looking for an opportunity to escape… my legs would surely be broken. “Let him go,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. But the hand holding the gun wouldn’t stop trembling, a tremor so slight it was almost imperceptible, yet Damien’s sharp eyes caught it. Even though killing the man would be the safest option for me now, I couldn’t bring myself to murder someone who had done me no wrong. “Alright,” Damien purred. He released my hand, then curled an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “And my dear… what will you give me in return?” His voice dripped with his usual possessive affection, but a coldness deep within his eyes, like a viper fixated on its prey, went unseen by me, nestled in his embrace. “I won’t leave this place,” I stated. I turned my head, looking directly into his eyes. They were alight with a fierce blend of love, lust, and possessiveness, so intense it seemed to spill out. I knew he must be furious. Ever since I’d tried to break free from him, only to be knocked out and dragged back, I hadn’t stepped outside this mansion. No matter what I tried, nothing worked. I’d even attempted to provoke him, deliberately ignoring him and chatting happily with one of the maids. The result? Damien’s face darkened, and right in front of me, he poured scalding hot oil over the poor woman’s face. He then… He used a leather belt to bind my wrists, then threw me onto the bed. “If you won’t talk to me off the bed,” he snarled, “then we’ll talk *on* it.” He didn’t stop until I passed out. I was bedridden for three days after that. Now, the sight of a belt sends shivers down my spine.

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His innocent white socks, clinging to Noah’s ankles, stirred a mix of purity and raw desire within me. My grip tightened, almost unconsciously. Noah trembled all over. I traced the hollows of his lower back, then subtly twisted my hand, gently bringing him pleasure. *How many rounds does a demon go in a single night?* I retracted my fangs. Not enough… As a modern demon, setting up a makeshift booth on a university campus isn’t all that unusual, is it? I lit the incense, and the lamplight made my crystal ornaments glitter, but I felt no excitement. Not far away, a hesitant figure hovered. I knew exactly who it was. I put on a perfect smile, waiting for him to come consult me about his emotional problems. I wasn’t a hasty hunter. Too much eagerness would only scare off a simple little creature. “Senior… do you have a cigarette?” Noah’s clear eyes were like the purest emeralds. I looked down at his knees, flushed from exercise, and my throat tightened. I felt a sudden thirst. I lit a cigarette for him, and Noah choked a few times. I leaned closer, patting his back to help him recover. Handing Noah a bottle of water, I noticed how small his hands were in comparison. It seemed I could cup both of his in just one of mine. Noah drank the water too quickly. A few clear drops escaped his lips, tracing a path down his Adam’s apple. They continued their descent, dampening his shirt, turning the white fabric translucent. I felt even thirstier. “Senior, you must be tired.” Noah offered the water bottle back to me, and I emptied it in one gulp. Noah’s ears seemed to be turning red. I glanced at the bottle’s rim, then at Noah’s still-damp lips… “Ah, an indirect kiss.”

Noah was a good boy, voted by the girls in his major as the one they’d most want to sleep with. Maybe it wasn’t just girls who thought so. “Smoking is bad for your health. If you know that, why do you still do it?” Noah shrugged. He had no idea how adorable he was. “Maybe because smoking offers a brief reprieve from an insatiable craving,” I said, picking up a cigarette but not lighting it. Noah leaned in, sniffing curiously, then frowned and wrapped it in a tissue. “Senior… do you like someone?” I didn’t answer directly, just chuckled softly and lit an aromatherapy candle. “Always suppressing it, Senior must be in a lot of pain, right?” Noah lowered his head, then picked up a pen and paper from my stall. His slender, articulated fingers wrote beautiful characters on the white paper. The words on the paper were clean and elegant. I leaned my head slightly, reading what he’d written: “The Lost One awakens the Sealed Demon.” Perhaps… I had underestimated Noah.

“That’s not something a good student should be doing,” I said, starting to pack up my stall. “What should a good student be like?” Noah reached out, stopping my movements. I looked up, meeting his resolute gaze. He used the candle to light the piece of paper he’d written on. The flames roared, burning hot in my heart. The firelight reflected in his eyes. In that moment, Noah said, “Senior, let’s date…” I couldn’t refuse. I carefully packed away my tools, then smiled at Noah. “Alright, but first, let’s… hit the gym together.” So I gave Noah the address of my regular gym. Noah looked confused. He didn’t understand what dating had to do with working out. I leaned close to his ear. “With that body, I’d make you *pass out* from pleasure.” “Do you even know how many times a demon goes in a night?”

I was a demon hidden in the human world. A long time ago, I saved a little boy. It was the only good deed this demon had ever done. Time had brought us to this day. I wore a tight-fitting shirt, the lines of my muscles clearly visible even through the fabric. Noah’s steps faltered when he saw me. I pulled his hand. “Don’t worry, it’s just for exercise… nothing more.” He gathered his courage, brushed his hand over my arm, then with a surge of bravery, touched my abs, pulling my shirt up slightly. Across my stomach was a glaring, jagged scar. He tenderly touched the scar, pressing himself against me. My excitement soared. I looked down. Noah’s actions were far from innocent. For a split second, I wanted to grab Noah’s head and pull him down *there*, to use those soft lips to amuse myself… In the end, I just ruffled his hair. *Don’t rush… don’t rush…* My hand lingered in his smooth hair, unwilling to leave. I sensed the wetness. He was crying… “It’s an old wound,” I said. “I know.” Noah lowered his gaze. I suspected his wiped memories were returning. I started setting up the professional equipment, demonstrating a few movements for him. My muscles rippled subtly with each movement, an even more tantalizing sight beneath the black compression shirt. But Noah still seemed preoccupied. It wasn’t until I pulled him onto the exercise equipment. A few dozen minutes later, Noah was completely spent, lying motionless on the machine… His cheeks were flushed, his hair damp with sweat, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes, vacant with exhaustion, looked like someone who had just reached climax. “Senior… could you rub me down…” Noah was truly delicate. The moment my hand touched his skin, he began to moan. “Oh… ah…” I knew Noah didn’t mean it that way, but his voice made my wall of reason crumble. I massaged Noah’s thighs, my hand unwilling to leave his skin. Skin hunger? No, how could a demon suffer from such a human ailment? Noah suddenly lowered his voice, but the low groan at the end echoed in the empty room, reaching my keen ears. My hand, moving with a captivating current, kneaded Noah’s leg. I warned him,

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My awful old man was finally dead. As the family’s only son and heir, I was stoked to head home and claim what was mine. But then, the “little daddy” I’d always tormented suddenly locked me up, and even… *tormented* me back. My head felt hazy, the world around me flickering in and out of focus. I lay on the bed, trying to move my limbs, only to find my entire body immobile. A warm, soft hand grazed my forehead, but it wasn’t long before I drifted back to sleep. Before losing consciousness, I thought I heard someone call out, “Madam.” Madam? The first mistress of the mansion, my mother, had passed away sixteen years ago. The only one left who could be called that now was the second person my father brought home six years ago. My father’s partner – Lysander. A tickling sensation spread across the soles of my feet. My instinct was to curl my legs, but then I realized I was still completely unable to move. I struggled to open my eyes, only to see Lysander, a faint smile on his pale face, gazing at me under the dim yellow light. My inner calves were incredibly sensitive. I followed his hand downwards and found it was a man’s doing. “Lysander! What in hell are you doing?!” Lysander, who usually dressed in those soft, almost feminine robes, had completely changed. He was wearing a dark, tailored shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the same smooth, luminous skin. Facing my fury, Lysander remained utterly unconcerned. The smile on his face was warm yet distant, and the long, white feather he held in his hand showed no sign of stopping its teasing movement. I saw that my perfectly tailored suit had been replaced by a deep blue silk robe. With every stroke of Lysander’s hand, the robe’s long hem had slid all the way up my thighs. My wrists and ankles were cuffed, ropes connecting them, forcing my body open on the bed in a spread-eagle position, leaving me entirely at Lysander’s mercy. “What am I doing, Young Master? Is it really that unclear?” Lysander’s voice was as soft as ever, but his actions were anything but gentle. I could feel my most vulnerable parts being shamelessly kneaded by Lysander, giving me almost no time to resist. The surging desire swept away all my pride and dignity. Lysander swung himself onto the bed, straddling my waist, his legs spread. Through the open slit of his shirt, I could see the defined muscles beneath his dark trousers. “You insolent bastard!” My face flushed crimson with rage, humiliated to the point of nearly blacking out. Yet Lysander remained calm, watching me, until he mockingly stripped off my trousers. Lysander looked at my already pathetic state and finally let out a laugh. “My father and I, we were just two apex predators circling each other. We might snarl, but we never truly went for the kill—a kind of twisted respect among our own kind. I’ve had my eyes on you, Young Master, for a long, long time. Tonight… I intend to enjoy myself to the fullest.” As his words faded, I watched, horrified, as he removed my last line of defense. The iron cuffs on my ankles spread my legs wide, allowing Lysander to easily prepare me, and then, he pushed deep inside. My face went pale with pain. I gritted my teeth and snarled, “I’ll get you, just you wait!” Lysander lifted one of my legs, not pausing for a second at my threat. His laughter mingled with his ragged breaths, filling my ears. “I’m afraid,” Lysander whispered, “you won’t get the chance.”

The chandelier in my vision slowly blurred. I didn’t know when I passed out, but in my dreams, I remembered the first time I met Lysander. As the family’s sole heir, even though my relationship with my father was terrible, we always maintained a basic, polite facade. Yet, on the very night of my mother’s memorial, when that bastard father brazenly—even grandly—brought Lysander home, I lost my temper like never before. “Has my lust blinded me, or something? On a day like this, how dare he bring his paramour home?!” I was consumed by rage, smashing almost everything in sight. I wanted to lay my hands on my father, but the household staff weren’t just for show; they held me back. It ended with me smashing a vase over Lysander’s head, and me being restrained, taking two hard slaps from my father. After that, I never gave Lysander a moment’s peace. It was fine when I was studying abroad and didn’t see him, but whenever we met, I’d inevitably fly into a rage. After several such incidents, my unbearable father finally banished me abroad. But to his surprise, I went into overdrive, finishing my credits early and returning home two years ago. I brazenly insisted on living under the same roof as my father. From then on, I abandoned my old fits of rage and adopted slyer, more insidious tactics. I leveraged the fact that this “little daddy” wouldn’t dare provoke me while my father was weakening. So I became even more reckless. I’d splash him with cold or hot water, make him kneel before my mother’s portrait as ‘family discipline’ when my father wasn’t home, or deliberately cut back his food. I even dragged Lysander to parties, pointing out pretty young women. I remember pretending to be drunk, lifting Lysander’s chin, and challenging him, “How long will this face of mine keep the old man happy? Or rather… what if tonight, I managed to charm some heiress, marry her, and have kids? Where would that leave my standing in this house then?” I watched Lysander slowly raise his eyes. His gaze was filled with a knowing, mocking smile. It mirrored the look from last night. Then, Lysander, dressed in a proper, intellectual-looking shirt, was shamelessly violating me, who was stripped bare and bound. I could hear voices from the other side of the wall, but my mouth was stuffed with fabric, sealed tight with the leather belt he’d taken from my trousers last night.

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Every single day, I’d grab my binoculars and sneak a peek at my neighbor across the street. But lately, nightmares had been haunting me every night. So, I bought a security camera, desperate to find out what was causing them. What I found was totally unexpected: the scorching heat in the middle of the night, the fresh red marks on my neck in the morning, and my swollen lips in the mirror – they all came from *him*! He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his damp hair. Through the window, I could make out his sharp, chiseled profile. His honey-toned skin practically glowed in the sunlight streaming through the pane, and the few water droplets still clinging to him stood out like tiny diamonds. My breath hitched, watching him through the binoculars. A blush crept up my ears. I had the binoculars propped on the windowsill, my right eye glued to the eyepiece. To avoid getting caught, I’d even pulled the curtains almost all the way closed. That should keep him from spotting me. After all, who’d ever think that in the shadows, a pair of eyes would be so intensely fixed on him? My gaze greedily swept up and down his body, drinking in his raw, masculine form. Seeing his oblivious expression, the thrill of secretly watching him peaked. My blood felt like it was boiling from the sheer rush, a dizzying pleasure washing over me. *Gulp*. I swallowed hard, my mind replaying the scene I’d just witnessed. After drying his hair, he picked up a bottle of water nearby. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and the water droplets that had lingered there began to slide. They traced a path down his sculpted collarbone, continued lower, leaving a shimmering wet trail across his perfectly defined abs. My eyes were locked on that single droplet, unmoving. Inside, I was silently cheering, so glad I’d splurged big time on these binoculars just for spying on him. The guy who sold it to me wasn’t kidding! I could see every single move he made across the way. Even… even the tiny water droplets rolling down his skin were crystal clear. After that droplet slid past his abs, it vanished, the view below completely hidden by the towel wrapped around his waist. The disappearing droplet, the still-wet trail – it somehow added a touch of something raw and tempting to his otherwise cool expression. I was a little bummed I couldn’t see more, but honestly, just getting to see Cole’s body like that made these binoculars worth every penny! Thinking this, I lowered the binoculars, rubbed my chin, and mumbled, “Honestly, I never would’ve thought Cole, a doctor, would have a body like that.” Yep, this definitely wasn’t my first time spying on Cole. But it was the first time I’d caught him fresh out of the shower. Before, he was always either glued to his laptop working or lifting weights. It was like his whole world revolved around work and working out. At first, I’d been so nervous watching him. But seeing his routine like that, my daily spying sessions just became a routine, like a daily check-in. Over time, I started feeling like I was Cole’s boss, and spying on him with binoculars was more like I was overseeing him. Just looking at Cole’s chiseled face, his totally bad-boy charm, who would’ve guessed his private life would be so… boring? But after seeing Cole’s body, I felt like all my hard work hadn’t been for nothing! I was practically humming with glee, just about to go back for another admiring look. The moment my eye touched the binoculars, I recoiled like a startled rabbit, then darted away from the window. *Huff, huff.* Pressed against the wall, my heart hammered like a drum. “Huff, huff. That scared me senseless!” “How could he… how could he have looked right at me?” I frowned, replaying the moment in my mind. When I’d pressed my eye to the binoculars, I hadn’t just seen Cole’s tempting body, but his gaze, too – a half-smile in his eyes. That look was aimed directly at me. I was certain I hadn’t imagined it. But then… “If he noticed, why didn’t he report me?” “Maybe… maybe I really did see wrong.” I murmured to myself, and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became. If he’d caught me spying, I would’ve been reported by Cole and probably locked up by now. I wouldn’t be sitting here, perfectly safe. Perhaps that reason actually convinced me. I cautiously edged along the wall, peeking towards the window. “Where is he?” It had only been a few minutes, but when I looked again, the figure by the window was gone. Even without the binoculars, I could tell if someone that big was there or not. *Knock! Knock! Knock!* Just as I was wondering where he’d gone, the front door knocked. I froze, staring disbelievingly at the sound.

The sudden knocking, combined with Cole disappearing from his window. These two things happening back-to-back made me connect them instantly. I bit my lip, forcing down the surge of unease, and cautiously started walking toward the front door. I’d only taken a few steps when something clicked. I turned back, pulling the curtains completely shut to hide the binoculars near the window. Given my current state, that move probably screamed “guilty as charged.” *Knock! Knock! Knock!* The moment I’d hidden the binoculars, the knocking started again, louder this time. “No, it can’t be Cole. Our houses are a fair distance apart. Even if he saw me, he couldn’t have gotten here so fast.” After a few minutes, my heart, which had been pounding like a drum, slowly returned to normal. My sluggish thoughts started to make sense. Reason finally kicked in, calming my frantic mind. I realized that the person at my door wasn’t Cole. I hurried forward and opened the door. Standing there was a delivery guy in a black T-shirt, looking impatient. His expression softened a bit when he saw me. But after he scanned me up and down, his face turned a little weird. “You were home? Why didn’t anyone answer when I knocked?” “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was just tidying up.” I offered an apologetic smile, taking the package from his hand. Feeling his eyes on me, I silently pulled my sleep shirt up higher, covering the red mark on my neck. I thanked him, closed the door, and went back to my room with the package. I tore open the box; inside was a security camera system. I’d painstakingly picked this one out on Amazon: dual lenses, dual screens, and super long battery life. Setting up the monitor was simple. I had it assembled in no time. But where to put it? That was the tricky part. “Where can I place it to actually capture whoever’s appearing in my room at night?” *Is it really a person?* I thought of the nightmares I’d fallen into every night, the red marks on my neck when I woke up, and what I saw in the mirror. And in those nightmares, the broad hands that had run over my entire body, and the long, thin fingers that had stirred my mouth and tongue. My memories churned, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was just a nightmare, or if it was real. At first, I truly believed it was just a nightmare. After all, the next morning, I hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary.

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At the party, my asthma flared up. I fumbled for my emergency inhaler. But the bottle was empty. My boyfriend, Liam, casually explained, “Chloe said her throat was dry, so I gave her your inhaler. Just take some throat lozenges; they’ll help too.” My breathing was already getting harder, each breath a struggle. “If her throat’s dry, why can’t she just drink water? You guys are trying to kill me!” He frowned, clearly annoyed. “Can you stop being so dramatic? You always act so delicate, like you’re made of glass.” “Chloe’s right, you’re just being extra.” I stopped arguing, sending a frantic message to my mom: “My asthma is flaring up, but Liam gave my inhaler to Chloe.” Liam saw the message and just shrugged it off. “Here you go again with this? Always running to your mom, are you in elementary school?” He snatched my phone, holding it high above his head, looking down at me with contempt. I tried to grab it back. The moment I stood up, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back onto the couch. “My asthma’s really bad, please help me,” I gasped, desperate. Just then, Chloe strolled over, still flaunting my inhaler in her hand. “Oh my, Princess Scarlett, are you *really* feeling bad? Or are you just trying to get attention?” “Ugh, I told you guys, women shouldn’t be at our guy’s nights. They’re always so whiny and just stir up drama, trying to compete with each other.” I fought for air, my eyes fixed on Chloe. She was Liam’s childhood best friend. She’d always been super chummy with guys, treating them like her brothers. Liam had mentioned Chloe more than once to me. He always said she was a real ‘one of the guys.’ At first, I actually had a good impression of the easygoing ‘female buddy’ Liam described. After our relationship became stable, Liam introduced me to his friend group. Chloe always went out of her way to act like a huge supporter of women. “Oh my god, Liam, you have such good taste, where did you find this princess?” “Swoon! Girls stick together, let’s ditch these smelly guys.” But deep down, I always sensed a hint of malice in Chloe’s eyes when she looked at me. Her methods were subtle, almost brilliant. She’d preach ‘girl power’ but then deliberately ignore me in her actions. For example, she’d constantly bring up their childhood memories at parties. I’d have nothing to contribute, so I’d just sit there silently. Then, she’d suddenly turn to me, all casual and friendly. “What’s wrong, Princess? You’re not mad because I’m talking to Liam, are you?” I’d mentioned to Liam that it made me uncomfortable. But he’d always just say I was being petty. He claimed Chloe was just trying to liven things up and that I was too sensitive. Now, though, Chloe’s malice was completely undisguised. “Princesses are just princesses, aren’t they? Are you upset we’re not all fawning over you, so you’re faking being sick?” The guys around us snickered, a wave of mockery washing over me. “I’m really not feeling well, give me the inhaler!” I raised my voice, a desperate plea. My sudden outburst made the room go silent for a second. Then, the mockery erupted even louder. Chloe draped her arm over Liam’s shoulder. She watched me gasp for breath, doubling over with laughter. “Oh my, she’s really good at faking it, Liam! Are you actually feeling sorry for her?” The others joined in, egging Liam on. “Yeah, Liam, you’re not gonna be whipped after you get married, are you?” “Don’t disgrace us, man! The man’s the head of the house, if a woman disobeys, you gotta teach her a lesson!” Liam couldn’t handle that kind of challenge. He stiffened his neck, refusing to look at me. “Who’s feeling sorry for her? She needs to be taught a lesson, always looking for trouble.” I couldn’t breathe. I desperately tugged at Liam’s sleeve, gurgling sounds escaping my throat. “Help… me…” Seeing my state, Liam hesitated for a moment. But Chloe spoke again, her voice dismissive. “Alright, alright, Scarlett, we’re all just regular guys here, we don’t fall for the damsel-in-distress act.” Knowing it was useless to reason with them, I tried to leave the private room. But as soon as I pushed myself up, Chloe shoved me back down. “The party’s not over, why are you leaving? You’re disrespecting me!” Her grip was surprisingly strong. I wasn’t careful, and the back of my head slammed against the wall. *Thump!* My head spun even more. Before I could react. Chloe screamed first.

She covered her mouth, her voice overly dramatic. “Oh my god, you’re so manipulative!” “I barely touched you, and you actually hit your head against the wall just to frame me!” Hearing that, Liam’s gaze turned even more impatient. “Scarlett, that’s too far.” I bit my lip, trying to clear my head. “I have severe asthma. If you don’t want a death on your hands, stop this now.” My throat burned, every inhale felt like drawing in broken glass. Chloe, however, dangled the inhaler in front of my face, showing it off, then dramatically took a huge puff. “Can’t give it to you, my throat’s dry.” “And I gotta say, you get what you pay for, this thing feels great.” I struggled to lift my hand, trying to snatch it. She laughed, easily raising her hand to dodge me. “Nope, not giving it to you.” Furious, my vision blurred again. Liam stood there, arms crossed, watching. “Look at you, begging like that. Chloe’s just using it for a bit, don’t be so petty.” “Chloe even saw your medical report; you don’t have asthma. You just get a little short of breath sometimes.” I forced myself to stay calm. “Liam, you’ve seen me have an attack before, why would I lie to you?” Before Liam could answer, Chloe interjected. “To get attention, obviously. In this day and age, there are always those attention-seekers faking illnesses.” “Heh heh, Scarlett, are you like those online princesses who also claim to have depression?” At her words, Liam’s friends erupted into even louder laughter. Some of them whistled. “Liam, your girlfriend is so uptight, she’s not half as cool as Chloe.” “Yeah, you’re gonna have your hands full when you get married.” I was gasping for air, using my last bit of strength to reach for the inhaler in Chloe’s hand. But just as my fingertips brushed it, she quickly pulled her hand back. I lost my balance and tumbled onto the carpet. “Oh my, she’s really selling the act!” Chloe exclaimed dramatically. Then she crouched down, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Hehe, hurry up and die. You dying will make things perfect for me and Liam.” She stood up, deliberately raising her voice. “Scarlett, stop messing around, get up! Everyone’s waiting for you and Liam to take a toast together.” Liam felt a flicker of concern. He stepped forward and helped me up. “What’s wrong with you? Are you really not feeling well?” “Help… me…” I struggled to get the words out. My hand tightened around Liam’s wrist, only broken gasps escaping my throat. “In… inhaler…” Liam’s brows furrowed, and a hint of panic and struggle finally appeared in his eyes. He looked at Chloe. “Chloe, maybe just give it to her.” Chloe’s face instantly dropped. She stubbornly hid the inhaler behind her back, stamping her foot in frustration. “Liam, are you blind? She’s totally faking it! Have you forgotten how she used to throw her little tantrums?” Then, she suddenly turned to the others and yelled. “See? These drama queens always put on an act, and Liam totally falls for it!” The guys around them immediately chimed in. “Liam, Chloe and us grew up together, would she really try to hurt you?” “These princesses, they just love to cause trouble, you can’t spoil her.” Liam’s expression changed. His hand, which was holding me, loosened a little. I could feel him wavering. On one side was my agonizing pain, on the other, Chloe and his friends’ manipulation. “But… her face looks really pale…”

Liam looked worried, his gaze falling on my bloodless lips. Chloe suddenly slapped her own forehead with an “oops!” “Oh! I saw her go to the restroom earlier with a pad, she’s probably just having bad period cramps.” She said this, feigning concern for me. “Scarlett, if you’re just having cramps, why lie and say you’re having an asthma attack? You’re just unnecessarily worrying Liam!” Hearing her, Liam visibly relaxed. His eyes, when he looked at me, were filled with reproach. “You can’t pull stunts like that again, you almost scared me to death.” I didn’t have much strength left. Thankfully, I had taken preventive medicine before leaving the house. Otherwise, with all their delaying, I would have been dead by now. Chloe, hiding behind Liam, smirked at me provocatively. Then she pulled a small bottle from her bag. “Here, I have throat lozenges. Scarlett, isn’t your throat bothering you? Pop one in!” Without waiting for my consent, she shoved a throat lozenge into my mouth. The strong mint flavor rushed into my nasal passages, intensifying the burning sensation in my throat. I tried to spit it out. But she clamped her hand tightly around my jaw. “Swallow it! What’s wrong with you? You really are just faking this to get sympathy.” She only let go when I was choking and gagging, then turned to Liam. “See? She won’t even take it, what else could it be but an act?” Liam looked at me, then at the throat lozenge I had just spit out onto the floor. The flicker of panic in his eyes vanished, replaced entirely by irritation. He just thought I was overreacting, being dramatic for no reason. He sighed heavily, roughly pushing me onto the sofa. My back hit the armrest with a painful jolt, making me gasp. “Alright, let’s just drop it. Don’t ever do this again.” “No, I…” I tried to explain, but only guttural, gasping sounds came from my throat. Chloe patted Liam’s shoulder. “Come on, forget her, let’s go drink. If no one pays attention to her, she’ll be fine in a bit.” Liam nodded. As he walked away, he cast one last glance at me. His eyes held only impatience and annoyance, no worry at all. He was pulled away by Chloe towards the crowd, not forgetting to toss a final instruction. “Behave, don’t embarrass me anymore.” The surrounding group dispersed, joining Liam and Chloe to drink. I curled up in the corner, watching Liam and Chloe being egged on to take a toast together. “Come on, cheers, cheers!” “Don’t be a buzzkill, drink up!” “It’s just a game, your girlfriend won’t be that petty, right?” Through my blurred vision, I saw Liam glance at me from a distance, then wrap an arm around Chloe and kiss her… I felt the air being slowly drained from my lungs. I truly couldn’t breathe anymore. My phone lay on the floor where Liam had tossed it. But I didn’t even have the strength to crawl towards it. In despair, I suddenly remembered that last month I had put an asthma pill in my bag. I mustered my last ounce of strength, reaching out to feel around me. My heart leaped when my fingertips brushed against the chain of my bag. I desperately clawed at the chain, pulling it out, the leather rustling against the sofa. The bag was still open. I fumbled inside. A single pill rolled out, falling onto the carpet. That’s it! This was just an emergency slow-release pill. It wouldn’t work as fast as the inhaler, but it could buy me a little more time. I was practically in tears. But just as I stretched out my hand, and my fingertips were about to touch the pill—a high heel stomped down.

Right in front of my face, the heel repeatedly ground the pill into the carpet. It was Chloe. She smirked, looking down at me, her foot still grinding. “Oops, almost let you take your medicine.” My blood rushed to my head. “Get lost! I’ll kill you! My mom won’t let you get away with this!” The suffocating sensation overwhelmed me. After screaming that, I collapsed back onto the sofa, like a dying animal trapped in a cage. “Hehe, watching you rage so helplessly makes me so happy.” Chloe crouched down, poking my face with her long fingernails. “You deserve this, trying to steal what’s mine. Liam is *mine*. Even if I don’t want him, he’s certainly not for you.” With that, she forcefully grabbed my hair. “Alright, you can die now.” My scalp screamed in pain from the tugging. I tried to struggle. But I didn’t even have the strength to lift my hand. “I’m… Scarlett Vance—” Through my blurred vision, Chloe’s face was a distorted, grotesque mask. She cut me off. “Liam’s over there drinking.” She leaned closer to my ear, her voice sickly sweet. “He couldn’t care less about you. Do you think he’d be sad if you died right now?” I tried to bite her hand, but she easily dodged me. She stood up, patted my cheek, then yelled to Liam in the distance. “Liam, come look! Scarlett seems really mad!” Liam was called over by her. He looked at me, limp on the sofa, his brows furrowing even deeper. “What are you throwing a fit about now? It’s just period cramps, don’t act like you’re dying. Every woman gets cramps.” “I… I really have…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Have asthma…” Liam’s gaze swept over my pale face, then to Chloe. Chloe shrugged helplessly, indicating she couldn’t do anything. Liam’s gaze settled on me, filled with utter disappointment. “Scarlett, I’m so sick of this. If you keep acting like this, we’re over.” With that, he turned sharply and walked away. Chloe scurried behind him, not forgetting to turn back and flash me a ‘V’ sign. I felt like my lungs were a leaky bellows, every breath a tearing pain. The snowflakes in my vision grew denser. Chloe’s face in the distance shimmered in the halo of light, appearing and disappearing, like a demon from hell. My eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Over there, a group of people were cheering around Chloe. In my peripheral vision, Liam and his good friends raised their glasses. Chloe pretended to be drunk and leaned into Liam’s arms; he didn’t push her away, instead, he tightened his arm around her waist. “Liam…” I called out, using every last bit of my strength. My voice was a mere whisper, barely audible. He inexplicably glanced back. Chloe immediately tiptoed and whispered something in his ear. He frowned, impatiently shaking his head. In that moment, the last shred of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I slowly closed my eyes. I regretted it so much. Why did I ever get involved with Liam? Liam was just a poor student from an ordinary family. My mother, on the other hand, was a billionaire entrepreneur. I was afraid Liam would feel insecure, so I never told him any of this. He always thought I was just slightly better off than him. Chloe walked back over. She crouched in front of me. “I heard you grew up in a single-parent household. If you die, your mom will cry her eyes out, won’t she?” “But it’s fine, Liam can go handle your funeral as the future son-in-law. Maybe your mom will be so soft-hearted, she’ll give all her family fortune to Liam…” Chloe was certainly dreaming big. But before she could finish, the private room door was suddenly thrown open. “Scarlett!” It was my mom’s voice. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Mom rushing towards me like a madwoman. “Scarlett!” The world before my eyes plunged into darkness.

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It was the fifth year of dating Serena Walsh, and she finally said yes to my proposal. But on the day of our engagement party, she just vanished. Ghosted everyone. No calls, no texts. I waited for her all night, only to wake up to a trending post: a hot topic about her attending an art gala with her childhood friend. Looking at their intimate photo, and the hickey on Serena’s neck, I laughed. Laughed at how utterly blind she was, not even seeing the real deal, the true master, right beside her for five whole years! “Explain this.” I shoved my phone, showing the trending headlines in bold red, right in front of Serena. I just wanted an explanation. But she just frowned slightly, her voice laced with impatience. “What’s there to explain? It’s just work.” Her casual indifference hit me like a physical blow, twisting in my chest. “So? You can blow off our engagement party for work with Jasper Reed?” Serena rubbed her temples, a headache clearly brewing. “Julian Vance, I don’t have time for this idle chatter. We can always reschedule the engagement party. But a work opportunity like this won’t come again!” She stood up, heading towards the bedroom. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “What about the hickey on your neck? Is that ‘work’ too?!” Her steps faltered. Then she spun around, her brow furrowed, a furious edge to her voice. “What insane thing are you imagining now? Are you really going to be jealous of Jasper again? Can you stop being so petty? We’re just friends! Don’t let your own twisted mind taint everything!” “If there was anything really going on between us, would I even be with you? You’re just too sensitive.” A massive weight settled in my chest, making my heart ache. I pressed down on the discomfort, letting out a scoff. “You wish something was going on with him, but can your sickly childhood friend even *perform*?” *Smack!* Serena’s palm landed hard across my face. She was trembling, like an enraged panther. Her movement was so fierce that an invitation slipped from her pocket. It read: *“Mr. Julian Vance and Ms. Serena Walsh are cordially invited to the Starlight Art Gala.”* It was always like this. Every dual invitation she ever received, she never took me. She’d always say, “You’re a painter, you just focus on your art behind the scenes. I’ll handle all the socializing.” That’s why she’d never once publicly attended an event with me. Just like she’d never publicly acknowledged me as her boyfriend. Never once said she loved me. “Julian Vance, you disappoint me so much.” “If you’re sick, go see a therapist. Stop imagining things about Jasper and me all day. You know Jasper’s not well, and you still say such vicious things! Look at yourself. Who are you to comment on him? I get that you, a has-been painter, are jealous of a genius artist, but don’t go too far!” Every word was a blade, stabbing directly at my heart. And her look of disgust was like salt poured onto my bleeding wounds, a tearing, agonizing pain. Serena grabbed her bag, walking out without a shred of hesitation. “I’m not coming home tonight. Tomorrow I’m accompanying Jasper to the gala.” Words of pleading hung on my tongue, but I couldn’t force them out. In the past, whenever she got mad, I’d immediately drop my pride to soothe her, to win her over. She’d just mention needing paintings for an exhibition, and I’d paint day and night. All just to make sure her exhibition had works she could be proud of. It led to severe arthritis, making it hard for me to even hold a brush on rainy days. But today, I was suddenly tired. So tired I couldn’t even utter a single word to keep her. With the bright red slap mark stinging my cheek, I forced a smile. “Serena Walsh, let’s break up.” “Don’t keep throwing around ‘break up’ every time something happens.” She walked out the door without hesitation, her cold voice drifting back. “We’re not kids anymore. You’re making such a scene over something so trivial. Julian Vance, you weren’t like this before. You’ve changed.”

Watching Serena’s figure recede and blur into the distance, I was suddenly reminded of how we first met. It was love at first sight for me with Serena. That day, she burst into my world, clutching an oil painting. She was like a little sun, orbiting around me, begging me again and again to help her paint. She always loved tugging on my arm, swaying playfully. “Julian Vance is going to be a great painter!” “And I’ll become the best curator, put on the biggest exhibitions for you, and make the whole world know your name!” But later, she never put on a single exhibition for me, nor did she ever make anyone know my name. My phone buzzed. I casually tapped it open. It was an invitation from Jasper Reed. *“Jasper Reed – The Maestro’s Exclusive Exhibition invites you to attend.”* But my gaze was fixed on the host’s name below: Serena Walsh. *“Serena just insisted on holding an exhibition to welcome me back to the country. I could never say no to her, so I finally agreed. It’s in three days. Hope you can make it, don’t just keep cooping yourself up at home.”* Every line reeked of him flaunting his “childhood friend” status. As if he and Serena were destined, a match made in heaven. And I, Julian Vance, was nothing but a third wheel who took advantage while he was abroad recuperating. Just Serena’s little diversion when she was bored. Five years together, and she’d never hosted a single exhibition for me, yet she actively insisted on hosting one for Jasper. The very thing I’d desperately pursued was effortlessly within someone else’s grasp. Ha, utterly ridiculous. I curled my lips, my fingers moving to type a reply. *“Will be there on time.”* He claims to be The Maestro, huh? I’d like to see how he manages to exhibit *my* masterpieces. My gaze dropped further. A message from my online friend, Taylor. *“Got any new art recently? Dying to see some master works!”* These past few years, dating Serena, most of my energy went into managing her studio. I’d barely touch a brush every few months, sometimes half a year. Paintings were a rarity, just two or three a year, pitifully few. Taylor was someone I met online when I posted some sketches. We’d talked for three years. When I was stuck at home, I’d often chat with him, sharing my artwork. My troubled mood eased, if only for a moment. Just then, the studio phone rang. I slid to answer. “Mr. Vance, Ms. Walsh wants you to come to the studio tomorrow and clear out your office.” A mix of annoyance and confusion drove me to ask, “Why?” The person on the other end paused for a few seconds. “Ms. Walsh said she needs to clear out your office to make it Jasper Reed’s studio.”

When I arrived at the studio, Serena’s assistant was carrying out my belongings, trip after trip. Everyone looked grim, whispering. “Why’s he here? I hate it when freeloaders show up!” “Seriously, we’re swamped, and now we have to cater to him!” “Jasper is so much better. His paintings are beautiful, and he’s so kind. I think he and Ms. Walsh are a perfect match!” I listened to all of it expressionlessly, but only I knew the ache in my chest. All those nights I spent working overtime with them, and in their eyes, I was just a freeloader, a difficult boss! The assistant shot them a look, and everyone instantly fell silent. I strode towards Serena’s office, determined to get an explanation. But the assistant blocked my way, looking conflicted. “Mr. Vance, Jasper Reed is in Ms. Walsh’s office, creating. You’ll disturb them if you go in now.” I pushed past the assistant, heading straight for Serena’s office door. My hand gripped the doorknob, and then familiar voices filtered through. “Serena, I’m out of inspiration lately. Why don’t you model for me?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Serena’s hesitant gaze, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as she pondered. Jasper added fuel to the fire. “You’ve always been my muse. If you model, I know I can paint another masterpiece that will astound the world!” She no longer hesitated. As my pupils dilated, Serena slowly began to shed her clothes. She sat naked before Jasper Reed, not a stitch on. She was modeling nude! My hand on the doorknob trembled uncontrollably. It trembled so much I didn’t even have the courage to push the door open. “After all these years, Serena, you’ve become distant from me. Did you get a boyfriend and just forget about me?” At his words, panic instantly flashed across her face. She quickly explained, “How could I? I always remembered you, Jasper. Being with Julian Vance was just because he was so much like you, and also a painter!” My body reacted before my mind. A wave of physical nausea washed over me. I swallowed the bitter truth with difficulty, like a wooden puppet, stiffly dropping my hand from the doorknob. I thought, even if our ending wasn’t ideal, at least we had truly loved each other. But reality mocked my naiveté, delivering a harsh slap to my face. Serena had always seen me as Jasper Reed’s substitute! The truth was too sudden, too cruel. I stood frozen by the door for a long time, forcing myself to calm down. The moment I let go of that doorknob, I let go of you, Serena. On the taxi ride home, I accepted the long-standing invitation from a curating studio. I granted them full authority to manage The Master’s artwork. When they asked what my demands were, I took a deep breath. “I want the exhibition to be held in two days.” “And explicitly state that it’s an exclusive exhibition of The Master’s works, and that The Master will be personally present to give a talk.” Two days from now was also Jasper Reed’s exhibition. He wants to be The Master? Fine. Let’s put on a real vs. fake exhibition and let everyone decide! That night, I met with the studio’s curator, discussing everything at length. When I got home, Serena, who I thought was out, was already seated on the sofa. The moment I walked in, I was met with her furious questions. “Where have you been messing around again, you didn’t even make dinner!” “Why aren’t you speaking? Are you mute?” She grew increasingly impatient, standing up and walking over to me. Her face hardened, and she asked with a cold frown, “Why do you smell of another woman’s perfume?!” It must have rubbed off when I was discussing things with the curator. But Serena’s behavior was utterly ridiculous. A mere perfume scent, and she’s furious, when she’s been far worse than me! “What, you’re allowed to be a nude model for someone else, but I can’t even get close to another woman? Serena Walsh, how can you be so hypocritical!” Her face visibly contorted, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “So what? That was work! Sacrificing for art! Don’t think such dirty thoughts!” “Don’t you trust me?” Looking at her eyes, filled with a hidden guilt, avoiding my gaze, I nodded. My voice was firm. “No, I don’t trust you.” “When I said we were breaking up, I wasn’t kidding.”

Without a word to Serena, I quickly moved out. After renting a new art studio, I began preparing works for the exhibition. I had left in such a hurry that I forgot many things. Even the last painting my mentor left me before he passed away was still at the studio. I planned to use it as the centerpiece of the exhibition. When I arrived at Serena’s studio, I searched for a long time but couldn’t find the painting. As I stood there, at a loss, a male voice from nearby caught my attention. “Are you looking for this?” I turned towards the voice. Jasper Reed was leaning lazily against the wall, holding my mentor’s painting, a provocative smile on his face. “Trash painted by a forgotten art lunatic—only someone like you would treasure it.” “Oh… I forgot. You haven’t achieved much in all these years, have you? Just living off Serena’s money.” “No wonder you like this painting so much. Trash belongs with trash!” Rage flared within me, leaving no room for thought. My fist flew out before I could stop it. One punch landed squarely on Jasper’s mouth, and blood instantly trickled down. He didn’t resist at all, allowing my violence, even fiercely protecting the painting beneath him. “What are you doing?” A surprised female voice from behind halted my action. The next second, Serena sprinted over and delivered a swift slap across my face. “Julian Vance, are you crazy?!” She used every ounce of her strength, and my cheek instantly swelled up. Serena cradled Jasper’s face with concern, examining it as if it were precious. “Does it hurt? Julian Vance is a maniac, why would you even talk to him?” Jasper clutched his right hand tightly, squeezing out a few tears. “Serena… my hand hurts so much.” My fists clenched instantly. When I hit him, I hadn’t even touched his right hand; I’d only aimed for his face. Jasper was clearly trying to set me up! “Serena, I didn’t touch his hand.” But she wouldn’t listen. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she screamed like a madwoman. “Julian Vance, I can’t believe how vicious you’ve become! He’s a painter, his hand is his life, do you know that?! And now you’re full of lies! I’m telling you, if anything happens to Jasper’s hand, I’ll break yours to pay for it!” My heart froze for a moment, and I stood there stunned. In the past, if my hand even got a scratch, Serena would hold it and blow on it for ages, so tenderly. She’d even drag me to the hospital for a check-up if it was almost healed. But now, for another man, she wanted to break my hand. Anger and resentment surged through my mind, driving me to speak. “He stole my mentor’s painting!” Serena waved a dismissive hand, completely unconcerned. “So what! It’s just a broken old painting. If he took it, he took it. He could even tear it up if he thought it was ugly, it wouldn’t matter!” “It’s just a painting, why are you being so petty?” With that, Serena gave me a hard shove. I lost my balance and fell backward into the studio. The face that had once been so gentle and familiar for years was now hideous. She gritted her teeth and spat out a final word, “Since you love that painting so much, then stay with it.” “You deserve to reflect on your mistakes.” *Bang!* The door slammed shut mercilessly. Along with it, my mentor’s painting was tossed inside, like garbage. Just like our five years of shared affection, it was all trash. I gave a self-mocking smile, enduring the pain in my body, and slowly stood up, leaning on the wall. Serena had locked the door. I started searching the room for a spare key. I didn’t find a key, but I did see the paintings Jasper Reed was supposed to exhibit. I glanced casually, but then I noticed something startling: his paintings were 80% similar to mine! In fact, all of them looked like direct copies of my work. But he had never seen the paintings I created as The Master, had he?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298436”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf

The day I was diagnosed with cancer, my boyfriend broke up with me. Again. I just smiled, telling him to wait. He lost it, smashing everything in the room. “Why isn’t it *you* who’s dying?!” Three months ago, his first love died in a car crash. He blamed me, saying it was because I was jealous and wouldn’t let him drive her home. I lowered my eyes, repeating softly, “Just wait a little longer.” Wait a little longer, and it *will* be me dying. **1** Caleb was completely wasted again, the air in the sealed room thick with the stench of smoke and alcohol. After getting him settled and cleaning up, I finally had a moment to look at the diagnostic report. From time to time, Caleb mumbled in his sleep, calling out his ex-girlfriend’s name. I suddenly laughed out loud for no reason. I could recite every word on that report, but the brutal truth? I just couldn’t bring myself to accept it. The room lights flickered on, snapping me out of my trance. I quickly crumpled the report and shoved it into my pocket. Good thing Caleb didn’t even glance my way. He rubbed his temples, walked straight to the memorial in the living room, lit an incense stick, and bowed solemnly. After Serena died in the car accident, Caleb intentionally placed her memorial photo in our home. He’d said, “I want you to look at her every day and feel guilty.” Guilty for what? The day it happened, Serena got drunk. She clung to my boyfriend, crying about how she’d never forgotten him all these years. She brazenly ignored me, his current girlfriend, using her drunkenness as an excuse. No matter how much our other classmates tried to intervene at the reunion, it was useless. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her from Caleb’s arms and tossed her aside. Caleb wanted to take her home. I scoffed, “With so many classmates here, what business is it of yours?” The standoff lasted a long time until Serena’s admirer offered to take her, finally easing the tension. But I never expected them to get into a car crash and both die. And Caleb? He blamed me for everything. It was utterly absurd. Did he… did he want to die too? **2** After his private ritual, Caleb walked up to me, looking down. “Your turn,” he commanded. I let out a soft laugh. “How long are you going to keep up this charade?” He frowned, kicking the table in front of me away. “You don’t want to? Fine, let’s break up then. Can you really bear to lose your golden goose?” He always used that line to threaten me. He was addicted to it. Caleb and I had been together for four years. We once had over six hundred thousand followers because we used to show off our relationship online. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. They even said the way Caleb looked at me was full of love. Back then, he even boasted, “The way I look at Anya will never change, not even when I’m old. No, wait, when I’m eighty and my eyes are blurry, I might not even recognize my own little grandma, her.” But people change. Especially as they get older, when the initial passion fades, it’s easier for other thoughts to creep in. I never realized how much he liked his ex-girlfriend until that last reunion. That’s when I discovered the timeless truth about the idealized first love and the complicated present one. His idealized first love hadn’t forgotten him, and he suddenly remembered how great she was. And me, getting older and less appealing? Not so charming anymore. Maybe after I die, he’ll reminisce about me just as deeply to his next girlfriend. I initially played along with Caleb’s twisted ritual out of pity. He was practically losing his mind, tormented by guilt and regret. I thought letting him shift the blame onto me might make him feel better. But I never expected him to get so lost in the role. **3** “Just wait a little longer.” I said it with a smile, then stood up to shower. Maybe he felt I wasn’t taking his words seriously, because he started smashing things like a maniac. Everything in the room, from large furniture to small ornaments, was something we’d chosen together. Each item held a story, a memory. He roared while trashing the place, “Why isn’t it *you* who died?!” Looking at the wreckage, my heart was strangely calm. I even smiled genuinely. “Just wait.” Seriously. Just wait. Liver cancer. Three to six months, tops. Caleb didn’t grasp the grim meaning behind my words. He rushed over, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me hard. “If you don’t want to break up, then go pay your respects to her. Go!” In the end, I complied. Caleb was giving me a headache. A child throwing a tantrum really never ends. **4** That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So I just sat up and watched Caleb beside me. Lately, he always turned his back to me, keeping his distance. I had to prop myself up, reach over, and crane my neck just to see his face. He didn’t seem to be sleeping peacefully; his brows were tightly furrowed. His usually youthful face was etched with a new weariness. His eyelashes were long enough to make anyone jealous, his high nose tracing a sharp line in the air, and his pointed chin had a faint stubble. I gazed at him, lost in thought, my memory suddenly pulling me back to our first meeting. He was eighteen then, just starting college, brimming with endless energy, sweating on the basketball court, drawing screams from a crowd of fanatical admirers. I was twenty-three, back at my old university for some business. I saw a bunch of young heartthrobs on the court and went to check it out. When he ended the game with a three-pointer, I screamed with the crowd, as excited as if I’d gone back to my own youth. He instantly noticed me in the crowd, looking over, his eyes full of pride. I gave him an unreserved thumbs-up. Then, he came running towards me, hugging the basketball. “Hey, are you a teacher?” Under the glorious sunlight, his skin was almost translucent. His amber eyes were as clear as a stream. He was so close, I could even smell the distinct youthful scent of him. “I’m not a teacher, and teachers can’t be called ‘hey.’” I looked up, meeting his gaze intensely until the tips of his ears turned faintly red. Only then did I let him off the hook, satisfied. Back then, Caleb and I were both pretty obvious. I wanted to flirt with him. And he was interested in me too. But no one expected us to actually fall in love, to playfully navigate four years together. Being an older woman in a relationship with a younger man, I naturally tolerated his childishness and stubbornness. In return, he gave me the pure honesty and romance of youth. But recently, he’d become way too selfish. And he’d forgotten to give back. **5** I hadn’t slept all night. When I finally drifted off and woke up again, it was already evening. Moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a stark white glow. I instinctively reached for my phone to check my content analytics. My team had updated everything as usual, and our sales metrics were stable. This influencer marketing agency? Caleb and I started it together. I put up the money, and I managed it. He just had to show up and act for the videos. I often marveled at how he was born into such a good era. He really could make a living just by being good-looking. And a *great* living, at that. But early success and easy money are never really good things. I suffered for it, and so did he. I called Caleb several times, but got no answer. I got up to wash my face, but on the way, the memorial photo startled me again. I grabbed a few tissues, covered it, and continued to the bathroom. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the silence behind me. “What are you doing?” I froze, turning around to see Caleb smoking on the balcony. A glowing cigarette butt, almost burnt out, pulsed between his fingers. Wisps of smoke drifted upwards, blurring his face. He must have been angry about my disrespect towards Serena just now. “She might be cold,” I mumbled, walking into the bathroom. He stormed to the doorway, eyes blazing red. “She’s dead! Why do you still have to humiliate her?” I laughed. “Humiliate her? Kid, if I *really* wanted to humiliate her, I would have told everyone at her funeral that the baby she was carrying was *yours*.” It took me all night to decide to lay everything bare. Given my current situation, there was no point in pretending anymore. I found out about it two days ago. Caleb was completely wasted then, so drunk he was spilling secrets without even knowing it. He even forgot that I slapped him twice, stripped him, and left him on the balcony to freeze for half the night. That’s when I finally understood why he felt so guilty, why he *needed* to push the blame onto me just to survive. I had planned to carefully sort out the company shares, minimize my losses, and then break up with him. But I never expected to be diagnosed with cancer. Sigh. I guess I’ll have to play a different game now. I may be attracted to good looks, but I’m no pushover. **6** All the aggression drained from Caleb. He stood frozen, silent for a long moment. “I really spoiled you.” I finished washing my face and walked out. As I brushed past him, he grabbed my wrist, clutching it like a drowning man, desperately asking, “When… when did you find out?” I pushed him away. “Does it matter?” He stumbled a few steps, then slumped against the wall, utterly lost. He slowly slid to the floor, tilting his pale face up at me, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Yeah, does it matter? As long as it doesn’t stop you from making money, right? That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? You don’t care how many women I have, or if I love you. In your eyes, I’m just worthless. But do you know what I thought of you when you were so high and mighty, humiliating Serena? You’re such trash. Kissing up to big shots, then flexing on regular people.” The ‘humiliation’ he mentioned must have been at that last reunion. I hadn’t wanted to go, honestly. I knew it’d be awkward around Caleb’s college friends; I was older, and we didn’t have much in common. But Caleb kept whining, saying he’d lose face if I didn’t show up. I’d fallen into the habit of indulging him. So I went. I brought gifts for everyone. Most people were polite; they knew Caleb and I worked in a sensitive industry and avoided touchy subjects. Only Serena. She kept labeling me an ‘influencer,’ asking about industry rumors. She even joked, asking if Caleb and I were really just a ‘contract couple,’ as netizens speculated, and if our public displays of affection were all just an act. That’s when I sensed her true intentions weren’t pure. So, I asked her, “Are you jealous of me?” My voice was a little too loud, making her embarrassed. Her eyes reddened, on the verge of tears, looking utterly innocent. “I’m just worried you’re using Caleb. He’s such a simple boy; he doesn’t belong in such a complicated industry.” “Oh, if you keep being so ‘concerned’ about him, you’ll just end up being the other woman. Hope you can stay ‘simple’ yourself.” After that, she just drank in silence, wiping away tears now and then, drawing attention and sympathy from many. Later, she got drunk and, quite predictably, put on a show of drunken distress in front of everyone, spilling her guts about her feelings for him. I didn’t care what others thought of me, but now I know that Caleb, between Serena and me, never stood by me, no matter who was right or wrong. Maybe he even agreed with Serena, thinking I was just using him. And that Serena truly cared for him. How could he forget? How did he, at twenty-two, achieve so much, far surpassing his peers? It was because of me. My humbling myself before powerful industry players, kissing up to them – wasn’t he the one benefiting? Ah, I get it now. He wanted me to feel guilty about Serena because he thought I ruined his chance to be with her. I knelt in front of him, tracing his profile with my finger, trying to sound understanding. “You silly boy, how could you be worthless? You still have this face. Only when you’re old and ugly will you truly be worthless.” **7** When we usually didn’t fight, but once we started, it was like a floodgate opening, raging out of control. All the old scores, big and small, came pouring out. There was no affection left, only deep-seated animosity. Because we knew each other so well, every word hit exactly where it hurt, wounding a thousand enemies, even if it meant eight hundred self-inflicted wounds. We didn’t care. Eventually, words weren’t enough, and we started to physically fight. I threw the first punch. The apartment, already a wreck from yesterday, now looked like a war zone. We were like trapped beasts, searching for an escape by hurting each other. I was at my breaking point; he was overwhelmed. We fought for what felt like an eternity, until Serena’s memorial photo crashed to the floor amidst the chaos. That’s when we both instinctively stopped. But in the end, he never truly hit me hard. I looked at his face, scratched with several bloody marks, and sneered, “Caleb, you really are pathetic now.” He roughly wiped the blood from his mouth, gritting his teeth. “You’re a complete lunatic.” Yes, I was. With my life counting down, I finally allowed myself to be truly reckless in this relationship. Thinking of this, I felt both triumphant and deeply sad. “There’s even more craziness to come. Tomorrow, I’m announcing our breakup on our couple’s account, and I’m spilling all the disgusting things you’ve done.” “You can’t scare me. You love money so much, you’d never give that up.” He always said I loved money, which was something I never understood. Is loving money wrong? Is it wrong to seize opportunities and work hard for the life you want? “Believe it or not, just get out now.” **8** After Caleb stormed out, silence returned to the apartment. I stared at Serena’s photo on the floor, trying to recall when exactly so much resentment had built up between Caleb and me. So much that in the heat of the moment, we’d say such vicious things to each other. We had clearly loved each other once. He resented my shrewdness and worldliness, but I never intended to use it to hurt him. He resented that I always negated him, but my denials were out of fear that he’d get lost in the hollow glow of internet fame. How many things did I do that I thought were right, but were actually completely wrong? Or did we both become unrecognizable on our journey chasing wealth, without even realizing it? Too many complex thoughts flooded my mind, making my head ache as if it would explode. I tried desperately to endure, but the despair rushing in from all sides magnified every bit of pain infinitely. I could only hurt myself to fight fire with fire. My arm was bitten raw and bleeding, yet I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. Later, all my emotions and energy were drained. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I lay numbly on the floor, unable to move, next to Serena’s photo. The entire night passed like this. At nine in the morning, when the sunlight finally touched me, I was roused. I got up, opened my laptop, and slowly began typing out my tell-all about Caleb’s cheating. The moment I hit ‘post,’ my heart ached as if a giant hand was squeezing it repeatedly. Four years. Every little moment documented on that account, garnering countless blessings and envy. Yet, it ended so miserably. What a regret. How unexpected. I casually clicked on our pinned video. It was three years ago, a clip I secretly filmed when Caleb was a freshman. He was asleep at his desk, the afternoon sun warming his profile. His skin was flawless, his breathing soft and even, his hair fluffy and soft, occasionally stirred by the breeze. He looked so clean and harmless. I quickly leaned down and kissed his cheek, then looked proudly at the camera. Behind me, he was secretly smiling, his face and neck flushing crimson in just a few seconds. That kind of shyness and joy, pouring from the depths of his soul, was more sincere and moving than any declaration of love. Even though the plot was simple, it was loved by so many people at the time. They were even more certain than I was: Caleb truly loved me. To this day, those netizens are still following us. What a shame. I let them down. Eighteen-year-old Caleb loved me, but time had twisted that love. We had both changed. **9** Caleb was too young, sharp and foolish. Early success fueled his arrogance, and praise bloated him beyond all reason. He simply didn’t grasp that dreams have an end, and life is unpredictable. My foresight and caution only irritated him, even disgusted him. So, when a Serena appeared, full of worship and tenderness for him, he naturally couldn’t resist the temptation, unable to control himself. Understanding these previously overlooked truths brought me a strange sense of relief, even though the process was agonizing, making me feel utterly worthless. Chloe, my assistant, asked if announcing the breakup this way was too reckless. She worried that if Caleb retaliated with slander, it would be a very ugly public fight. I looked at her and smiled gently. “When you mess up, you have to face the consequences. If he wants to make a scene, let him. He’ll have to clean up his own mess in the end. As long as he’s not afraid.” Chloe gasped. “Anya, this could seriously damage his career. Are you really not going to protect him anymore? I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for him, I just need to know if we should go easy on him later.” Actually, I always wanted to protect Caleb’s innocence and goodness. I loved that sunny quality about him. But I didn’t realize I was hindering his growth. Now, I’m giving him all the hard knocks society owes him, all at once. For him, it’s not a bad thing. “Find a lawyer. Sue him. He’s damaged the company’s reputation. Kick him out. The sooner, the better.” If we had parted amicably, I wouldn’t have treated him badly. He’d been with me since he was eighteen. I enjoyed his best years, his vibrant energy. He deserved a hefty breakup fee. But now… it was just too ugly. **10** When I got back from the office, Caleb was squatting in the corner by the door, waiting for me. He had a key, but I’d changed the lock, so he couldn’t get in. That’s why he looked so pathetic. Made by the internet, ruined by the internet. Three days after our breakup, his reputation online was in tatters. I walked over and nudged him with my foot. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. The injuries on his face hadn’t healed yet, covered in brown scabs. After a few seconds of silent staring, he spoke, his voice hoarse, “Are you trying to destroy both of us?” I shook my head. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I’ll be the one to go, but the net will be just fine.” Tears welled in his eyes, but he still put on a tough front. “Fine, you’re ruthless. I never wanted to be in this industry anyway. It’s so damn dirty.” Yes, but no matter how dirty it was, I always did my best to protect him. When powerful industry players tried to take advantage of him, I didn’t hesitate to break contracts and pay penalties to preserve his dignity. When competitors slandered him, I’d pull all-nighters managing comments and doing PR, while finding ways to keep him offline. This industry is tough. He might have found it hard, but he never had it as hard as I did. What’s more, his rewards far outstripped his efforts, so much so that he had no idea what real hardship or the ruthlessness of the world truly meant. I couldn’t help but sigh. “Caleb, what you did was pretty dirty too. Remember this lesson for the future.” He staggered to his feet, gripped my shoulders, and leaned down, forcing me to look him in the eye. He said each word slowly, deliberately, “Am I as dirty as you? Do you dare say you never sold yourself for resources?” I’m dying, and I still have to argue about this with him. It’s so annoying. “Fine, it’s all my fault. I wasn’t good enough for you. If I had broken up with you sooner, you wouldn’t have had to sneak around with Serena, and maybe she wouldn’t have died. You two could have grown old together, stayed true, and had a house full of kids.” I said what he wanted to hear, but it only made him angrier. He asked, his voice choked with tears, “Did you ever love me?” What a failure. Four years of intimacy, and in the end, he doubted even that. “Kid,” I forced out a fake commercial smile, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “I love money. How could it be you?” He froze for a few seconds, then bolted, as if something terrifying was chasing him. I watched the direction he disappeared into, lost in thought for a long time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298435”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf

I entered the horror game, but due to my severe nearsightedness, I couldn’t see clearly. I treated the blood-dressed ghost loli like my own daughter, the big boss like my husband, and the old ghosts like my parents. When we first met, I grabbed the big boss’s abs and sighed: “Nice body, but you’re a bit short.” The boss laughed angrily, put his severed head back on his neck, and gritted his teeth: “I’m 6’1″. Take another look now?” 0[Welcome to the “House of Happiness” mission. [Players who survive for seven days in this mission will pass. [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 30. [We wish all players an enjoyable game~] After dying in a car accident, a flash of white light passed, and I arrived in front of a large building. An eerie mechanical voice sounded in my ears. Because I’m severely nearsighted, I can’t distinguish between people and animals within 10 feet. I couldn’t see what the building looked like clearly, nor could I make out the exact appearance of the people around me. I could only see vague human shapes. At this time, I heard a fragile schoolgirl crying: “Wah, where is this? I want to go home.” A yellow-haired guy cursed angrily: “Who’s messing with us? Let me go back!” A relatively calm man and woman stepped forward. They introduced themselves as veteran players named Rachel and Jack, and kindly explained to us. This was an infinite horror game, and those pulled into this game were all dead people. If we could clear all the missions and accumulate the legendary 9999 points, we could be resurrected. Hearing we could be resurrected, I hurriedly asked: “So how many points can you get for clearing one mission?” Rachel seemed a bit down and said softly: “It depends on your terror value when you clear it. If you clear with 99 terror, you’ll only get 1 point. If you hit 100 terror, you die instantly.” Terror value, as the name suggests, is the degree of fear. Veteran players familiar with the game can usually keep their terror below 60. As for new players, well, it’s pretty rough. I rubbed my chin and asked again: “Then what if you clear with 0 terror? Can you get 100 points?” As soon as I said this, unbeknownst to me, everything was being livestreamed. Countless comments mocked me: [This newbie is so arrogant! Although the House of Happiness is only an S-rank mission and not the highest level, it’s still never been cleared due to its insane difficulty!] [Didn’t the famous player James from the top guild fail here last time? He made it to day 6 but still died in the end.] [We’re screwed, this random matchmaking only has two veteran players, Rachel and Jack. The two of them together aren’t as good as James. Looks like it’ll be a team wipe again.] 0

Soon, it was time for us to choose rooms. Rachel said that although no one had cleared this mission before, the players who died previously had figured out some tips. This building has 30 floors total, with one apartment per floor. Only one player can stay on each floor. And the House of Happiness is actually a role-playing horror mission. There are some ghosts living in each apartment, and they will play various close relationships with the players. So how could the terror value not fluctuate dramatically after living together for seven days? Jack hurriedly interrupted Rachel and pulled her along to choose the first and second floors. Seeing the veteran players make this choice, some smart people quickly followed suit and chose the lower floors. Because of my poor eyesight, I couldn’t run fast enough, so I had to wait for everyone else to choose. In the end, only the 30th floor was left for me. Taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t see, the comments were chattering again: [This newbie is dead for sure. Everyone knows the higher the floor, the higher level the boss.] [Especially the 30th floor, it’s all big bosses, known as the House of Death.] I reached the 30th floor and looked around, finding it not much different from reality. Just a bit more bloody smell, redder walls, lower temperature, darker lighting… Plus, this was a huge penthouse! With the family I’ve always dreamed of! You should know, in reality I’m not only a severely nearsighted useless person, but also an orphan, and even more so a poor dog! I walked to the door, unhesitatingly reached out my hand, knocked hard, and shouted: “Open up quick, baby’s home! I’ll starve to death if you don’t open!” The comments were stunned: [Is she purely seeking death? Which player doesn’t politely knock or wait quietly at the door for the ghosts to be in a good mood to open up.] [I don’t want to watch this brainless woman anymore. I’m switching to another stream. I’ll go watch Rachel.] [Keep watching! I want to see how she dies!] 0

Actually, they don’t understand my thought process. Since it’s role-playing and we’re supposed to become a family with the ghosts, of course we should interact naturally. In real life, would you very politely say “Hello, is anyone there? Please help me open the door” when returning to your own home? After knocking, the door creaked open and a chill swept over my entire body. I sighed comfortably. This was simply a summer resort. No need for air conditioning even in summer. I looked down and saw a small red “figure”. Although my vision was always blurry, the two braids swinging back and forth suggested it was a child in a red dress. The child smiled eerily and suddenly pounced at me, her icy little hands gripping my neck. I hugged her in my arms, feeling her dress was wet, and immediately said disapprovingly: “How can a child wear wet clothes? Take them off quickly! I’ll get you changed into dry clothes!” My nose twitched, smelling a bloody scent, and I anxiously asked: “Are you hurt somewhere? Where’s the first aid kit? I’ll help you treat it.” The comments bitterly complained: [Sister, open your dog eyes and look! This is one of the bosses of the House of Death. What she’s wearing isn’t a wet red dress, it’s dyed red from killing and dismembering players! The bloody smell isn’t because she’s hurt, it’s the players’ blood on her dress.] [Never mind, when that person comes home, she’s dead for sure.] Unfortunately, I couldn’t see these comments. I carried the child into the house while helping her take off the red dress. I found a new white dress in her exquisite princess room and put it on her. The child’s little hands gripping my neck unconsciously loosened. Sensing her uncertainty, I took a warm towel, leaned in closer, and gently wiped the blood stains off her face bit by bit. Only then did I see clearly that she was an adorable little loli. I smiled and pointed at my face, saying: “As family members, helping each other is what I should do. But shouldn’t you give me a kiss to show your thanks?” The little loli shyly tugged at her white dress, quietly leaned in to my face, and gave me a quick peck before quickly pulling away. Her voice was soft and sweet as she said: “Thank you, Mommy.” What? Mommy? I’ve become a painless mother! This is simply too awesome! You should know, in reality I’ve heard so many stories of women dying in childbirth. Although I long for a family, I’m most afraid of giving birth. I had just coaxed the little loli to take an afternoon nap when I heard the mechanical voice announce: [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 20.] I didn’t expect that just from choosing rooms, 10 players had already died. I opened my phone and held it close to my eyes, barely able to make out the text on the screen. It turned out everyone was exchanging information in the player group chat, like how other players died. Apparently, Brad and three other men had fought fiercely over the 3rd floor. In the end, Brad narrowly won and moved into the 3rd floor. As soon as Brad knocked on the door, a human-bodied dog-headed ghost walked out, opened its bloody maw, and swallowed Brad whole. It then chewed a few times and spat out some white bones with bits of flesh still attached. Through the half-open door, other players saw a large pile of bones inside. They guessed those were probably the remains of previous players. Witnessing this, basically all the new players’ adrenaline spiked. Now except for Rachel and Jack, everyone’s terror value was at 50, and this was only the first day! There was also a middle-aged uncle whose terror value shot up to 100 the instant he walked through the 10th floor door, and he died directly. The other players died in various ways, either killed by ghosts or scared to death. Of course, none of this had anything to do with me. I stood up and, while the little loli was sleeping, diligently found a mop from the bathroom and cleaned the entire apartment. I scrubbed the red floor tiles until they turned white. I’m really capable! The red stains on the walls that I couldn’t clean off, I just scraped away with a chisel. By the time I finished, it was already afternoon. My back ached from the work, so I lay down on the sofa next to the little loli and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up again, I was enveloped by an icy aura. The room was very dark, and a blurry black shadow stood in front of me. Although I couldn’t see clearly, I was captivated by his voice from his very first sentence. 0

He chuckled in a low, sexy voice: “Heh, interesting. You’ve actually survived this long with Sissy.” Immediately after, the little loli Sissy’s cold voice also sounded: “You’d better not touch her. This mommy is quite interesting. I want to keep her to play with.” The man didn’t respond to her. With a wave of his hand, the little loli named Sissy flew backwards off the sofa, crashed into the balcony glass with a loud “bang”, along with the sound of bones shattering. The man laughed coldly: “Who allowed you to talk to me like that? You really think you’re my daughter?” I couldn’t stand it anymore. I scrambled up from the sofa, muttering: “Who allowed you to talk to a child like that? What kind of father are you?” I meant to slap the man’s face, but somehow my hand slipped and grabbed his abs instead. Tsk, the feeling was so good I couldn’t help but feel them up a couple more times. Seeing the man on the verge of exploding with rage, his whole body emitting black energy, I hurriedly tried to salvage the situation: “Sissy is my little treasure, you’re my big treasure. We’re just a loving family. “Actually, um, honey, your body is pretty nice, but why do you look a bit short? “It’s okay, now that I’m here, I’ll cook delicious food for you every day. I guarantee both father and daughter will grow tall.” The comments went crazy: [God, what is she saying? How dare she say these things in front of the Headless Big Boss!] [Finally the Headless Big Boss appears. He should be the strongest boss in the House of Happiness mission, right? James died at his hands back then.] [But why is the Big Boss’s face suspiciously red? I’m shipping it.] [Above, you’re just hungry.] The livestream audience was all waiting for the man to snap my neck. That was the fate of previous players. 0

Unexpectedly, the next second, the man raised his hand and suddenly put the head he was holding back on his neck. Then he leaned in close to me, his cool and evil image gone, his voice mixed with inexplicable grievance: “I’m short? I’m a solid 6’1″. Take another look, won’t you?” These days, as long as he’s a man, even if he’s a ghost, they all care about height! “Nina, I advise you, look carefully.” The man suddenly called my name, so alluring it made my heart race. I yanked his tie hard, making him press completely against me, while coquettishly murmuring: “Can’t see clearly, come closer.” Staring at the handsome face clearly magnified before me, I secretly rejoiced: Thank goodness, thank goodness this broken horror game only looks at terror value, not heart rate. Otherwise, I’d definitely be dead. Seeing the man not saying anything, I worried he was angry. I immediately nodded with starry eyes, fawning: “Wow! You’re 6’1″, I’m 5’5″, the perfect height difference. We’re truly a match made in heaven!” The man in the suit turned bright red. He was about to speak. The next second, the blood-dressed loli who had just reassembled her bones rushed over, kicked the man up to the ceiling, leaving him stuck there unable to get down. Then the little loli looked at me innocently, nuzzled my face, and said with moist eyes: “Mommy, Sissy, hungry hungry, food food.” Who could resist this? I immediately took out ingredients from the fridge, squinted my eyes, and happily went to cook for the little loli… and my husband. My cooking skills are no joke. The father-daughter pair licked the bowls and plates clean. When I went to shower, I seemed to hear them talking cordially: “Sissy, actually keeping this woman is fine. Her cooking is quite delicious.” “But Daddy, when those two come back tomorrow, they’ll explode if they know we won’t eat their food anymore.” “You call that food? If they dare question it, I’ll kill them first.” “Okay, I’ll keep watch for you.” After my shower, I very naturally occupied the master bedroom. I peeked out from under the covers sneakily, seeing that black shadow still sitting motionless on the sofa. So I started showcasing my virtues in a soft, gentle voice: “Honey, why don’t you go shower in the bathroom yourself, and I’ll help wash your hair in the kitchen? It’ll be faster that way.” Comments: [What kind of devil suggestion is this?] 0

More outrageously, the Headless Big Boss, for whatever reason, actually agreed to my proposal. In the end, we split up to carry out the plan. I hummed a tune while washing the man’s head in the kitchen. The comments watched this bizarre scene with goosebumps: [In my opinion, birds of a feather flock together. This Nina is also a dead pervert.] They had no idea that to my severely nearsighted eyes, I was just washing a hairy black watermelon in my hands. Suddenly, the “black watermelon” in my hands spoke: “You seem to be in a good mood?” I frankly said: “Of course! I feel like I’m getting along great with you and your daughter. We’ll definitely clear the mission smoothly.” The black watermelon stared at me, suddenly grinning eerily yet handsomely: “You’ll get your wish, Nina.” I looked at him tenderly… actually I couldn’t see clearly, but never mind these details. “I still don’t know your name?” The black watermelon, oh no, the Headless Big Boss suddenly flew his whole head off, perfectly connecting with the body that had just walked out of the bathroom, turning back into that dashingly handsome 6’1″ man. The man seemed to recall something unpleasant, his voice hoarse: “I don’t have a name. If you’re willing, you can give me one.” After saying this, the man quickly left, telling me in a low mood that he was going to sleep in the guest room. Tsk, this husband is so stingy. Can’t he let me sleep while feeling his abs? I scratched my head, unable to think of a good name for the moment, so I went back to the bedroom to keep thinking. Just as I was pondering, the next second, a pair of pitch-black eyes appeared in my blanket, a small face emitting a ghostly glow. It was like a scene straight out of The Grudge. Fortunately I couldn’t see clearly, only seeing a blurry white shape. “Mommy, don’t pay attention to that headless old monster. Tonight, Sissy wants to sleep with Mommy.” So it was Sissy. I don’t know when she had crawled into my blanket. I pinched her little face, picked her up into my arms, and gently instructed: “You can’t call Daddy an old monster. It’ll make him sad.” Sissy looked at me in confusion, opened her mouth to reveal bloodily bare gums with all the teeth pulled out: “Hee hee~ But I’m a little monster too. They even call me little vixen and little bitch.” 0

I sighed, trying to correct this little ghost’s thinking: “Who are ‘they’? It’s wrong of them to say these things. If Mommy ever meets them, no matter what, I’ll definitely scold them back and hit them back for Sissy. “But Sissy, you can’t talk about yourself like that. It makes Mommy sad too.” Later, I rambled on and on, somehow falling asleep without realizing. What I didn’t know was… After I fell asleep, Sissy clung tightly to me, staring at my sleeping face. Her dress turned from red to white, then white to red again and again. Then she muttered softly: “Mommy will be sad. Can’t let Mommy be sad.” The comments also nervously spammed: [This is the first time I’ve seen the blood-dressed loli’s ghost energy fluctuate so much! In the end her dress stayed white and didn’t change back.] [Damn, this newbie changed the blood-dressed loli’s attributes. She’s got skills!] The next morning, I was woken up by the mechanical voice announcement: [Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 15.] I groggily picked up my phone and saw the player group discussing that 5 more people had died last night. Three died at the hands of ghosts. Two experienced something unknown, their terror value spiking to 100, and they were gone too. I suddenly received a private message from Rachel: [Nina, are you okay? I was busy dealing with the ghost on the second floor yesterday and didn’t have a chance to tell you. For the first three days, you must seize the time to win over your “family members”. I watched James’s livestream back then. This is the information I know, just take it as compensation. It’s my fault for not explaining the room selection rules in advance, causing you to have to live on the 30th floor.] Besides this, Rachel was also giving advice to many new players in the group chat. Jack occasionally came out to curse: [Why tell these newbies? I think you’re just too kind. Helping them doesn’t do us any good.] Rachel typed to persuade him: [It’s not easy to meet. Don’t be so calculative.] So the surviving players were all grateful to Rachel. These two veteran players are quite interesting. I smiled slightly and pressed my face to the screen to reply to Rachel: [I’m doing great, thanks for your concern.] The Headless Big Boss was holding his own head in one hand and Sissy in her white dress in the other, doing “dumbbell” lifts. Seeing me hugging my phone, he seemed to realize something and frowned slightly: “Don’t trust too mu-” Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed. Sissy frowned worriedly and hurried to support him. I also quickly rushed over to catch him with my body. The mission system restricts NPCs from revealing specific clearance information to players.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298434”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf

I was Julian’s kept man for five years. Purely in name. What he loved was just my face, a mirror image of Leo’s. On nights when his longing became unbearable, his fingers dug into my throat, his eyes blazing red as he snarled, “Kian, why wasn’t it *you* who died?!” I stopped fighting, letting Julian steal my breath. His broken, crumbling expression twisted grotesquely in my blurring vision. In these five years, he’d had so many moments of losing control. One second he’d almost kiss me raw. The next, he’d want me dead. To pay the price for my twin brother, Leo. I indulged every ounce of disgust and hatred festering inside me, picking the words I knew would hurt him most. Each one a knife to his gut. “Don’t pretend to be heartbroken! You never loved him when he was alive, did you? Leo would have poured his damn heart out to you! And you just used him as a pawn in your game with my dad! Go on, kill me! Then this face? You’ll only ever get to stare at it on a damn tombstone!” … After I’d spat my venom, I knew the beating was coming. The worst was two years ago, on Leo’s death anniversary. Julian wiped his lips, a streak of the red from where I’d bitten him, then yanked me to the floor. He grabbed the heavy brass floor lamp from beside the bed and swung it, without hesitation, smashing my knees twice. I bit down, hard, to stifle my cries, but hot, involuntary tears streamed down my face. “There, now you’re even more like Leo,” Julian said, pressing his foot into the hollow behind my knee and twisting his toe. I shook like a leaf, my vision tunneling to black, my jaw finally unlocking as a choked, desperate moan escaped me. Julian knelt, one hand gripping my chin, the other smoothing my bangs, slick with cold sweat. Then he pulled me into his arms. He murmured, his voice thick with tears, “Leo, I miss you so much.” I convulsed in his embrace. Julian, I want you to… Die! But now, I was tired. Exhausted, I let go of all my resentment and hatred. Five years of torturing each other. If one of us had to die for it to end. Then let it be me. I let Julian’s face blur in my vision… “Cough, cough—!” Julian suddenly let go. Air rushed back in, and I coughed violently, snot and tears streaming, pathetic as a clown again. Julian pulled away, standing by the bed, looking down at me as I curled into a ball. His voice was low, hoarse, and cold: “Your life was saved by Leo. You’re not allowed to die.” He was utterly insane. He’d just been trying to kill me moments ago. I nearly coughed my lungs out, finally breaking free from the agony of suffocation. I didn’t care that my clothes were barely covering anything, just lay sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My voice was steeped in despair: “Julian, it’s been five years. Haven’t you had enough? Leo, wherever he is, wouldn’t want this.” In five years beside him, I’d never said anything that sounded remotely like comfort. Any sane person would have heard that I was unilaterally surrendering, that I didn’t want to fight him anymore. Yet the next second, Julian was back, looming over me. His long, powerful legs forced their way between mine. I felt a flicker of confusion. All these years he’d kept me, Julian had only treated me as a substitute, as the enemy who’d caused Leo’s death. He’d never bothered with the final step. All his kisses, his touches, his bites, his rough handling—they were all just acts of pure rage. This intimate posture, I truly didn’t understand it. Had he come up with a new way to torment me? I awkwardly tried to pull away. He slammed a hand onto my shoulder. “Kian, whether this game between us begins or ends, it’s not up to you.” With that, he covered my mouth. And then reached for my pants! A jolt went through me, and I pushed him, hard: “What are you doing?!” Desire flared in Julian’s eyes. My mind, in a sudden, ill-timed twist, wondered: *Is this for Leo, or for me?* Then Julian’s voice, full of savage cruelty. His knee pressed against me: “Give up, Kian. This is your life now. You’re mine.”

I don’t know how much time passed. I just felt hot and weak all over. In a hazy dream, I thought I saw Leo. He was angry with me, demanding to know why I was sleeping with his beloved man. I wanted to scream that I was a straight guy, I didn’t want to either. But I couldn’t speak, frustrated and scratching at myself. Leo cried harder and harder, until his whole face dissolved into a blurry mess of tears. Just like his horrifying face after he was flung by that speeding car… “Leo!” I cried, but my outstretched hand grasped nothing. Couldn’t grasp Leo, flung by the car. Couldn’t grasp Leo, fading away, still blaming me. … “Kian, it’s me.” A soft, deep male voice, like a gentle, steady breeze, cleared all the chaotic images from my mind. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer sitting beside me. My arm was clutched tightly in his hand, the sleeve of his crisp white shirt already a crumpled mess. I quickly let go, my voice dry and hoarse: “Sorry.” He reached up to check my forehead. His clear, elegant eyes behind his glasses looked away, avoiding my gaze: “The fever’s gone down.” I hummed, glancing at the dim, dark sky outside the window, and asked him, “How long was I asleep?” “Thirty-two hours.” Spencer glanced at the grey diamond watch on his wrist. I shifted my body, and everything ached. A certain place felt like a scorching, piercing pain. Still, I bit back the pain and sat up, leaning against the headboard: “Thank you. Every time something goes wrong, I end up troubling you.” “Julian pays, I perform.” Spencer didn’t look up, methodically organizing his medical kit. But then, without warning, his movements faltered, instruments clinking together. He sprang to the bedside, his perfectly chiseled face inches from mine, the corners of his eyes flushed with raw emotion: “Kian, trust me. I *can* help you!” I stared at him, forcing a bitter smile and shaking my head. This was the second time I’d rejected his offer of help. Spencer was Julian’s private physician. Whenever I felt unwell and a few pills weren’t enough, he was the one who handled it. Two years ago, when my knee was shattered, Julian called him to treat me. That was the first time I’d seen the usually cool and composed Spencer lose his composure. He picked me up, growling, “He needs to go to the hospital! Otherwise, he’ll lose this leg!” Unfortunately, Julian merely chuckled dismissively: “Good. Leo had his leg broken for me, and was left unable to walk. His stand-in ought to be more dedicated.” I leaned my head against Spencer’s chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat. He looked down at me, his lips trembling. Then, ignoring Julian’s protests, he took me to his hospital. After the surgery, when the anesthesia wore off, I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Spencer pushed his glasses up, seemingly making a decision: “Kian, I can find a way to deal with your father’s debt.” I looked at this usually silent, aloof man, a little surprised. He was Julian’s friend, yet he wanted to save me from this hell. But this hell was something I had to endure. I needed to stay by Julian’s side as Leo’s substitute, so that Julian would go easy and not pursue the massive debt my dad owed him. Otherwise, my dad wouldn’t survive. I stopped reminiscing, avoiding Spencer’s earnest gaze: “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine now. You can go.” I could practically hear his jaw grinding in frustration. But he said no more, stood up, grabbed his medical kit, and left. He ran into Julian outside the door. The door was ajar, and their conversation was perfectly clear. “Is Kian alright?” Julian asked, his tone dismissive. Spencer’s emotions were now perfectly concealed: “The fever’s gone down. But the tearing down there will need some time to heal.” He paused, then added, “Julian, control yourself.” Julian scoffed: “Isn’t that what you’re here for? He won’t die.” Then he pushed the door open and walked in. I looked away, not wanting to see him. Julian sat on the edge of the bed and placed the takeout he was carrying on the nightstand: “You’re hungry, right? Eat something.” It wasn’t concern, it was a command. I looked at the takeout. It was heavily spiced tripe stew. “You love it, don’t you? Don’t leave any.” Julian opened the box, pulled out a pair of disposable gloves, and held it out to me. “I’m not hungry.” Julian didn’t move. His cold, menacing eyes fixed on me, unblinking. Resigned, I put on the gloves and took the container. I took a bite. It was insanely spicy. Julian pulled out his phone and opened a surveillance feed. It showed Spencer and me talking just moments ago. “Kian, I know your every move. Don’t try to pull any stunts. It’s useless.” A chill snaked up my spine, and I instinctively looked around. I had no idea where the cameras were hidden. I lowered my head and continued to gnaw on the tripe. It was so spicy. That’s why, I told myself, I was crying.

This torment continued for over a month. By the time Julian took me golfing again, I’d lost a ton of weight. I actually looked like a frail, delicate little thing. Julian’s friends formed their own clique, laughing amongst themselves, their occasional glances at me filled with unconcealed mockery and disdain. I stood beside them, holding Julian’s golf club, feeling like nothing more than the golf ball being hit back and forth. One of them, Brett, casually tucked his left hand into his pocket, tossed a ball with his right, then lifted his hand and pointed at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Kian, my man, fetch the ball, will you?” The surrounding chatter instantly died, and all eyes turned to me. A perverse pleasure, the thrill of watching a spectacle, silently swelled between them. I didn’t move. Looking at their young faces, all brimming with superiority, I thought vaguely, *What would the old Kian have done?* He would have charged at them, kicked each one until they begged for mercy. No, back then, in Rosewood, no one would have dared to mock me like this. My dad, my brother—they were my solid, broad umbrella, shielding me from all the crap life could throw at me. My world was smooth sailing, full of flattery, and “Kian, my man” was a byword for reckless glory. But now, that umbrella had been cruelly shattered, and raging storms swept over me. Even those lowlifes who wouldn’t have dared to approach me before now found amusement in tormenting me. “Go fetch it, or I’ll tell Julian. I hear Mr. Thorne has quite the ways of dealing with people.” Brett’s eyes lingered on me in an unreadable way, then drifted to the little white dot on the distant grass. “One moment.” I said, my voice so calm it even surprised me. I placed Julian’s club back in the bag, then, enduring the excruciating pain in my left knee, walked step by painful step towards that humiliatingly white ball. Julian was currently in the VIP lounge, handling an urgent business call. Before that, he’d already made me his caddy, fetching balls for him over a dozen times. He wouldn’t let me use a cane. He just wanted to torment my useless leg. It was effective. I was limping especially badly now. I’d only taken a few steps, but I was already sweating from the pain. But when I finally retrieved the ball, and could already see Brett’s magnified smirk. He threw another one. Even further. Brett called out, mimicking a pleading tone: “Kian, please—!” I gripped the ball tightly in my hand, fighting the urge to throw it at his arrogant face. I turned to fetch the next ball. Behind me, a wave of laughter erupted—their triumphant celebration of my humiliation. By the time I returned the second time, my left leg could barely lift. As I neared Brett, my foot caught on the turf, and I went down on my knees. The retrieved ball slipped from my grasp and rolled away. Julian, who had just returned, stepped on it, then another, neatly stopping all the scattered balls. Brett suppressed a laugh: “Mr. Thorne, look at Kian here, bowing so deeply on an ordinary day.” Julian ignored him, walking over and extending a hand to me. I looked up at his emotionless face, unsure whether to take his hand. “Do you like kneeling?” Julian’s voice was sharp. So I took his well-defined hand. Julian pulled me up, didn’t let go, and led me slowly past them. Then he commanded: “Hand me the club.” As soon as the club was in his hand, I saw a flash of silver. “Ah—!” Brett clutched his knee, screaming as he crumpled to the ground, howling in agony, “Ah—! Ah—!” Julian casually tossed the golf club, its head dented, and stepped on the writhing Brett. “Mr. Thorne!” Someone tried to interject. Julian’s fierce gaze swept over them, and no one dared to speak again. “Even if Kian is just a plaything, he’s *my* plaything. You think you’re worthy of humiliating him?!” “Mr. Th-Thorne, I’m sorry—!” Brett sobbed, snot and tears streaming. “Crawl over and apologize.” Brett crawled, a pathetic snake, to my feet: “Kian, I’m so sorry, I’ll never dare to do it again, please forgive me…” The others looked at me with a newfound hint of fear. But it only made me feel like nothing more than Julian’s pet. It was pathetic. I took a step back: “Don’t do this. Get up.” “Whack—!” Julian stepped forward and slapped me across the face. My ears rang for a long time. Eventually, the stinging heat faded. Julian’s voice was sharp: “His apology to you is a courtesy *I’m* extending. You will accept it.” That moment of bittersweet warmth I’d felt when he extended his hand to me had been brutally distorted by that slap. It morphed into profound self-loathing. God, I was so utterly pathetic, falling for a monster like Julian.

Julian got sick. In five years, I’d barely heard him cough more than a few times. But now, he was shivering violently, curled up on the large bed in the villa’s medical room, all his sharp, cold edges melted away, leaving him a vulnerable, pitiable animal. I sat by the bed, examining his flushed, sickly face. On a sudden impulse, I cautiously reached out, tracing the curve of his brow. The heat radiating from his body traveled through my fingertips, burning a path to my heart, making me flinch. A soft cough came from the doorway. I snapped my hand back, turning to see Spencer standing there with his medical kit, his gaze heavy. “Dr. Hayes.” Spencer nodded, opened the closet, took out a lab coat specially kept for him, changed into it, sanitized himself, and then examined Julian. I automatically moved to the corner massage sofa, out of the way. After Spencer finished his procedures, he said calmly, “He’s fine. Just overworked.” “His health has always been excellent, and he’s always been busy. Before…” “You’re worried about him?” Spencer cut me off, tilting his head. He’d caught me off guard. I opened my mouth but no words came out, so I just nodded. “I give him regular check-ups, and I’m very familiar with his physical condition. The human body has its limits. Even the strongest people have their breaking point and need to stop and rest. The high fever is just his body’s cry for help. A good night’s sleep and a few days of rest will fix him.” “Alright, thank you.” Spencer set up an IV for Julian. Julian stirred, turning twice impatiently: “Kian.” His delirious murmur was so soft, I almost couldn’t believe I’d heard my own name. Disbelieving, yet hopeful, I walked over and leaned closer. “Kian, I’m cold.” As if under a spell, I immediately and gently tucked the blanket more tightly around him. The next second, Spencer yanked me violently aside, his clear, sharp eyes clouded with fury: “Kian, if I wasn’t here, would you have wrapped your arms around him to warm him up?” My hidden thoughts exposed, I awkwardly looked away. “Kian, you’re sick.” Spencer’s voice was heavy with pain, as if I were already beyond saving. “I think you need to see a therapist. I have a friend who’s an expert in this field, I’ll SnapChat you his contact.” Spencer picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as they scrolled across the screen, not at all like hands that could wield a scalpel. “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine.” Spencer seemed not to hear. My phone vibrated. I opened it to find the therapist’s contact he’d sent. “Stockholm Syndrome can be completely reversed with timely intervention.” “Dr. Hayes, I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need a therapist.” I fled, trying to get out. Spencer followed closely, cornering me at the top of the stairs. “Kian, you can’t love Julian.” When such a thought was so bluntly exposed, I suddenly lost all strength to deny or hide it. I slumped against the wall, a lost cause, just letting myself rot: “But I am a rotten person who doesn’t know what’s good for him. Julian’s good-looking, and now he’s a big shot in Rosewood. Besides, he’s practically ruined me. Why can’t I love him?” Spencer took off his glasses, looking pained, and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Dr. Hayes, don’t bother with me. Just let me rot.” With that, I brushed past Spencer’s shoulder, ready to go downstairs. “Kian, have you never once doubted your brother’s death?”

Julian would wake up, see the villa’s security footage, and realize Spencer and I had left together. He’d probably go insane. And then he’d make me suffer terribly again. But I didn’t care anymore. Spencer had hit my weak spot, and I had no choice but to get into his Porsche. “Talk. What do you know?” I asked from the passenger seat, letting Spencer drive two blocks before pulling over into the shade of some trees. My jaw was clenched, my heart churning like it was in a frying pan. Spencer was blunt: “Julian used several accounts, making small, frequent transfers to the driver, Mark, over three years, totaling two million. It was to get him to cause the car accident and kill Leo. That two million was just enough for Mark to get his daughter the highest-end cochlear implant and ensure his wife and daughter could live a stable life afterward.” “He killed someone for two million?” My voice was warped. Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile: “Kian, two million might not even buy you a watch, but for Mark, it was his daughter’s chance at a normal life, their only hope of changing their future.” “I don’t give a damn about the disparities in the world right now. Just tell me why Julian killed my brother.” Leo loved Julian so much. Loved him enough to willingly betray my dad, to give Julian a clear advantage in the bidding for that huge piece of land on the east side of town. Loved him enough to unhesitatingly block an attack from an enemy, breaking his leg for Julian. Loved him enough to learn carving, his hands covered in calluses, just to carve Julian a jade figurine. Loved him enough to make a life-sized doll of Julian and cuddle it every night. Julian would just smile at him, and Leo would give away a business deal. Julian would put an arm around his shoulder, and Leo would gleefully hand over the most valuable club my dad owned. It enraged my dad so much that he snapped the old wooden paddle he kept for discipline, and Leo’s back and butt were a bloody, pulpy mess. His high IQ, once so evident as a top student, seemed to vanish. He seemed to use up all the stupidity he’d never committed in twenty-some years, all on Julian. Like an idiot, he would have ripped out his own heart and offered it to Julian, and even if Julian trampled all over it, Leo would have been happy. And now Julian wanted to kill him? Spencer sighed: “Because of you.” I felt like I suddenly couldn’t understand English, asking blankly, “Because of me?” “Eight years ago, you graduated college and held your graduation art exhibit in the city. Julian was with a friend, strolling through, and he saw you.” I tried to recall that distant scene. I was an art slacker, really. My graduation exhibit was purely because my dad and Leo wanted to promote me, so I wouldn’t end up unable to sell a single painting. Most of the people who came were invited to show support; they might not have understood art, but they understood social etiquette, lavishly praising my haphazard scribbles as if I was about to become the American Picasso. But I replayed my memories again and again, still finding no trace of Julian. I could only look helplessly at Spencer, waiting for him to wipe away the dust of memory and expose the initial entanglement between Julian and me. “Julian fell in love with you.” Just a few words, yet they hit me like a sledgehammer. They cracked open details I’d never noticed before. During the time Leo was pursuing Julian, his aesthetic suddenly changed. In college, he’d meticulously worn student uniforms; after graduation, he’d worn perfectly tailored suits, always dignified and elegant. But then, he started rummaging through my closet, saying he wanted to learn trendy styles. I scoffed, telling him he couldn’t pull off the artistic vibe. Leo just smiled and shook his head, looking resigned: “Julian likes it. He wants me to try something new.” Damn him! Leo, trying so hard, was he just playing *my* substitute? How could Julian be so twisted?! It took me a long moment to find my voice, my heart sinking, yet I still forced myself to rail: “What are you talking about?! Spencer, I don’t believe any of this! Love me? Murder? I don’t believe it!”

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I spent ten years with the brooding, disabled Julian Thorne, pouring my heart into making him fall for me. And I felt a deep pity for him. So, when the system declared the mission a success, I didn’t leave that world. Instead, I used all my earned points to give him a healthy body. Julian believed it was a miracle. He started to thrive, and in just a few years, he became a rising star in the business world. At the same time, the faint scent of other women’s perfume started clinging to him. I saw him kissing another woman at an exclusive club. When someone mentioned me, he sneered, “She’s way out of my league now.” I turned away. “System, I want to leave this world.” The System replied, “But you don’t have enough points.” “Then switch that healthy body back. I don’t need it anymore.” I was stopped at the entrance of the elite club. “Cassie, Mr. Thorne isn’t here.” Marc Reynolds, Julian’s loyal subordinate, kept his head down, not daring to meet my eyes. He knew how flimsy his lie was. I looked at him calmly. “When you were at rock bottom, I was the one who gave you a way out.” Years ago, Marc had lost everything to a devastating con that wiped him out. Homeless and with nowhere to go, it was me who bought him a meal and introduced him to Julian’s company. He was capable, though, quickly becoming Julian’s fiercely loyal dog within a few years. Marc’s face flushed crimson, and the hand blocking my path trembled slightly. After a few seconds, he slowly lowered his arm. “Mr. Thorne’s in the penthouse suite.” … No one dared to stop me on the way up. I stood outside the suite door, listening to the familiar voices inside, a complex knot of emotions tightening in my chest. “Mr. Thorne secured that suburban project. He’s a hot commodity in Veridian City now.” “Right? Don’t forget to give us a leg up when the time comes, brother!” Julian’s voice remained lazy, unaffected by the fawning. “You’re joking. I’m just an ordinary guy.” But he wasn’t ordinary at all now. In just five years, he’d transformed from a penniless nobody into a formidable presence in Veridian City’s upper echelons, a highly sought-after business mogul. He had the courage, the strategy, and the ruthlessness. A woman’s giggle drifted out. I looked up. Julian was leaning back, letting a glamorous woman light his cigarette. They were incredibly close, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desire. He let her lean in, leaving an intimate lip print on his neck.

Inside the suite, glasses clinked and conversation flowed freely. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you twenty-eight this year? When are you tying the knot with Cassie? You absolutely have to invite us to the wedding!” Someone blurted out the question, and the entire room fell silent instantly. Julian, with an arm still around the woman, exhaled a plume of smoke. The swirling haze obscured his expression. The person who spoke realized their blunder. “My apologies! Guess I’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Thorne. Don’t mind me.” “Why would I mind? It’s not like it’s a secret.” Julian chuckled. “You all know about me and Cassandra.” Seeing that the atmosphere wasn’t as awkward as expected, everyone exchanged relieved glances and relaxed. “Right, we all know.” “Cassie was really good to you, no doubt about it.” “Back when you were still…” The person paused, seeing Julian’s gaze, and quickly changed tack. “Speaking of which, we haven’t seen Cassie in ages. What’s she been busy with lately?” “I don’t know.” Julian pressed his cigarette into the ashtray, letting out a slow sigh. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” No one replied, so he continued talking to himself. “You all know how I used to be, sitting in that wheelchair for over ten years. Even my own mother had given up on me. “I met Cassandra when I was a shell of a man. She saved me. “I’m grateful for her, and I did care for her, but honestly, she doesn’t fit into my life anymore.” A miracle six years ago had allowed him to walk again. It had also overturned his predestined tragic life. He had redefined his life. These past few years had proven it vividly. He was born to shine. Julian’s eyes flickered. “Cassandra saw me at my most pathetic. Now, every time I see her, I’m reminded of those days in the wheelchair. It makes me feel…sick.”

He truly had been pathetic back then. A car accident had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Every day, I’d clean and massage him, sometimes even handling the unavoidable mess. His pale face would always flush crimson with shame, afraid to look up at me. I took a deep breath, then pushed open the suite door. Julian noticed the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. He followed everyone’s gaze, turned his head, and saw me. I walked up to him, barely needing to look down. The woman beside him scrambled to her feet and rushed out. “What are you doing here?” Julian didn’t look at me again, reaching for a glass of wine. “Julian,” I said, “Let’s break up.” Julian’s drinking motion paused. “Don’t be dramatic.” “I’m not being dramatic, and I’m not crazy.” I smiled. “These past few years, watching you climb higher and higher, I’ve been happy for you. But my capabilities are limited. I can’t walk with you any further. Julian, you deserve better.” Julian took a nonchalant sip of wine. “You heard what I just said? Are you mad?” “You know I was just talking. You’ve been with me for ten years. I’ll always take care of you. Now, I have things to discuss with them. You should go home.” He truly found me disgusting. Couldn’t stand to look at me for another second. He didn’t care if I’d actually heard what he said, he didn’t care if I was angry. He was certain I wouldn’t leave him. After all, my background was ordinary. His status was now incredibly high, something an ordinary person like me could never achieve in a lifetime. I controlled my emotions. “I’ll move out of the apartment by tomorrow. You don’t need to give me any compensation. Let’s part ways amicably.” With that, I ignored them and turned to leave. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you going after her?” “Cassie’s really leaving!” “Going after her for what?” Julian was smugly confident. “She’s just talking. Where would she go? She just wants me to pay more attention to her. I can’t bring myself to grovel and coax her now.”

It was late autumn, and standing outside the towering building, feeling the cold wind hit my face, my mind was exceptionally clear. “System, I want to go home.” Three seconds later, a familiar mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Host, detection shows your points are insufficient to activate the dimensional portal.” I was stunned. Right, all my points were gone. How had I used them? Six years ago, I’d given Julian Thorne a miracle, spending every last point. I was a System Agent. And Julian, he was my target. The first time I met him, I almost gave up on the mission. He was gloomy, paranoid, sitting in his wheelchair, letting his pants get soiled, fiercely rejecting anyone who tried to get close. Like a wounded animal. I felt for him, pitying him, so I deliberately approached him, patiently trying to win him over. I stayed with him for ten years. I pried open the hard shell he used to protect himself, forcefully intervening in his life. I made him accustomed to my presence. Gradually, I made myself indispensable. But those ten years, true feelings had intertwined. I’d developed a near-adoring affection for this poor, self-conscious boy. So, when the System congratulated me on a successful mission, on a strange impulse, I didn’t choose to immediately leave the mission world. At that time, Julian was still a sensitive and fragile young man. He clumsily made a ring for me with his own hands, then, blushing, he put it on my finger. He said his biggest wish was to grow old with Cassandra. But I knew his deepest wish was to walk again. The childhood car accident had made him close himself off. I spent ten years making him open up to me, making my mission no longer purely about the task. I used the points gained from the successful mission to exchange for something from the System. It was a perfectly healthy body. I still remember that morning, Julian carefully walking on the carpet, tears silently falling. He held me and cried for a long time. He said it was the second great miracle bestowed upon him by heaven. I was the first. … Julian began to show his talent and extraordinary business acumen. This healthy body finally allowed him to shine, to stand out in any crowd. I can’t pinpoint when he started to change. I only remember one morning, I smelled a perfume on his suit that didn’t belong in our home. I simply asked about it calmly, and his face instantly showed impatience. “It’s just necessary business entertaining. Don’t be unreasonable.” My question became unreasonable. He spent more and more time entertaining outside, becoming increasingly smooth and cunning. I gradually forgot the shy, blushing boy who used to react to my every word. I also forgot the gloomy, self-conscious, disabled teenager he once was.

The four-hundred-square-meter apartment felt cold and empty. I packed my luggage, calculating the points I needed to return. “Can I exchange that healthy body I redeemed before, back to you?” I asked the System, “I don’t want it anymore. Depreciation is fine.” “Host, please wait.” Data streams flashed rapidly in my mind. The System’s voice remained emotionless. “After calculation, the target Julian Thorne’s body has suffered excessive wear and tear over the past six years. Smoking, drinking, late nights, and promiscuity have severely damaged his body. Its current recovery value is only half of its original worth.” The word “promiscuity” made my packing motions halt. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. After all, he was the man I’d accompanied for over a decade. I was heartbroken by his change of heart. And annoyed by my own softness. Such a person truly wasn’t worth my lingering attachment. “Will the exchanged points be enough for me to leave this world?” “Not enough, Host.” The System continued, “However, I can grant you a new identity. I can apply for a new target for you, and we can start over.” Start over, huh… Fine, I guess. “Then switch that healthy body back.” … As I boarded the plane to leave Veridian City, a half-drunk Julian was being sent back to the apartment by Marc. Perhaps feeling guilty, Marc had defied Julian’s wish to stay at the club and brought him back to our shared home. The System connected to the apartment’s surveillance, allowing me to see Julian’s current state clearly. He lay on the sofa, calling my name. “Cassandra, Cassandra.” Receiving no response, he struggled to sit up. After a long silence, he suddenly chuckled. “Quite the performance, aren’t we?” He thought my scene tonight was just a ploy to get his attention. He rubbed his forehead, a slight frown marring his brow. The headache from the alcohol made him irritable. Julian stood up, slowly walked to the living room, and took a bottle of ice water from the fridge. Just as he unscrewed the cap, he stumbled and fell to the floor unexpectedly. Julian sobered up completely, his mind reeling. He stared at his legs, reaching out with a trembling hand… “My legs…” He gripped them, disbelievingly, but no matter how hard he squeezed, he felt no pain. This feeling was all too familiar. After all, he’d lived like this for over a decade. That miserable, incapacitated, ghostly existence was a nightmare he couldn’t shake. Julian paused, then raised a hand and slapped himself hard across the face. It stung. So this wasn’t a dream… Julian in the surveillance footage completely lost control. He screamed and shouted in the large apartment. He wanted to find someone but realized his phone was on the coffee table. Julian braced himself with his hands on the floor, inching his body forward. His two legs dragged lifelessly behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled. The composed demeanor he once had was completely gone. I closed my eyes. “Turn it off. I don’t want to see it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297441”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf