1 “I need you to fake a private plane crash for me. It’s the only way I can leave Adrian Lyons for good.” My best friend Gillian’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She looked at me as if she’d misheard, the same stunned expression she’d worn when I told her Adrian and I were getting married. A penniless girl from the mountains and the golden heir of Zenith City. We were from two different worlds, a match no one saw coming. The gossip had been relentless. Some said I was just a novelty for him. Others whispered I was a stand-in for a lost love. A few even wagered our marriage was the result of a drunken bet. But for three years, Adrian silenced them all. His actions screamed a simple, undeniable truth: he married me because he loved me. Loved me to the point of madness. He’d claimed it was love at first sight, launching a courtship of breathtaking intensity. He donated billions in my name to charities and built a global network of schools, all named ‘The Luna Project.’ He wanted the world to know me, so that if I ever stumbled, a helping hand would be there. He gave up his high-society life to work part-time jobs with me—waiting tables, sorting packages. The hands that once coaxed symphonies from a violin grew calloused and rough, all just to be near me. His devotion won me over, but the chasm between our families was too vast. To win his parents’ approval, he endured their brutal discipline sixteen times, his back a latticework of scars. When that failed, he renounced his inheritance, walking away from a fortune that could last lifetimes, all for the freedom to marry me. Our life together was a dream. He replaced his entire staff with men, installed a tracking system on his phone for me to check anytime, and reported his every move without me ever having to ask. The world called it a fairy tale. But the world didn’t know that my perfect husband had a secret family, that he’d fathered a set of twins with another woman. When I found out, the pain was so visceral I coughed up blood and collapsed. Adrian rushed back from an overseas deal, abandoning billions to sit by my bedside. He held my hand, warming the IV fluid with his own body heat, his eyes filled with a terror that was achingly real. His love was real; I could see it. But as I looked at him, a new, agonizing thought twisted in my gut: had he looked at her—at Isabella—with this same devotion? Isabella. His childhood friend. The same woman who had bullied me relentlessly, who had even hired thugs to assault me—an attack Adrian had thwarted by sheer chance. He had ruined her family for what she’d done. I never would have believed he could betray me with her. Not until I saw the videos. And the paternity test. I turned my head away, tears soaking the pillow. “Luna,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “the doctor said… you’re two months pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” His joy was childlike, pure. “Our anniversary is in five days. This is the best gift imaginable.” My eyes snapped open. I’d been told I might never conceive. Now, a child was coming. At the worst possible moment. A sob escaped my lips. He pulled me into his arms, murmuring comforting words. But all I could smell was a faint, unfamiliar perfume on his collar, mingled with the scent of baby formula. I shoved him away, a wave of nausea overwhelming me. He thought it was morning sickness, cupping his hands to catch my vomit, completely unconcerned about himself. He had a severe case of germaphobia, yet for me, he would do anything. For a moment, a desperate hope flickered within me. Maybe we could fix this. If he would just leave her… Then his phone buzzed. “An urgent matter at the office,” he said. He kissed me and hurried out. Half an hour later, a photo arrived from Isabella. It was Adrian, holding the twins, kissing their foreheads. My last illusion shattered. I left the hospital and went straight to Gillian. I needed an escape. A permanent one. 2 After leaving Gillian’s, I scheduled an abortion in another city. The Lyons family’s reach was too long. Just before I went into the operating room, Isabella sent another video. It was two and a half hours long. In it, she was in lingerie, and Adrian was in a suit, a table of sex toys beside them. They were in our home, their bodies entwined in a display of raw, unrestrained lust I had never seen from him. It was torture, but I watched every second. “Ma’am,” the doctor said gently, “are you sure you’re ready?” I hadn’t realized I was crying, shaking from the horrifying realization that even now, I still loved him. Ripping him from my life felt like tearing out my own heart. I decided to give him one last chance. I called him. “Where are you? I miss you. Can you come back?” His voice was tense. “Honey, something really important came up. Tonight… ah!” He let out a muffled groan. “I won’t be home tonight!” He hung up. He had never, ever hung up on me before. “I’m ready,” I told the doctor. “Let’s begin.” I returned home late, exhausted. A message from Gillian was waiting: “Baby, it’s all set. Showtime in two days.” I spent the night in tormented wakefulness. Adrian came home the next morning, full of plans for our baby and the island he had bought for us. He didn’t notice my silence until he saw the tears streaming down my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling with panic. “Nothing,” I said. “Pregnant women get emotional.” I told him about my plans for the day—a class reunion, visiting old professors. It was my farewell tour. 3 He insisted on coming with me to the reunion. The moment we walked in, the room erupted in good-natured teasing. Adrian just smiled, handing out lavish gifts. “You’re so lucky, Luna,” one of them sighed. “To have a husband who loves you so much.” I managed a polite, empty smile. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Isabella strode in, dripping with jewels. “Having a reunion without me?” The mood soured. Isabella, uncaring, sat down. “Chanel,” she mused, eyeing the gifts. “Famous brand. But I suppose none of you knew that I founded it.” She explained that her new “husband” had invested billions to set up twenty-six companies for her two years ago. Her gaze flickered to Adrian, then back to me, a triumphant smirk on her lips. Two years ago. Adrian had been incredibly busy then, claiming he was expanding the business overseas. But he had been building an empire for her. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. Adrian rushed to my side, but I pushed him away. In the hallway, Isabella cornered me. “Don’t think you’re important,” she sneered. “I gave him children. His heart is already mine. All I have to do is say the kids have a fever, and he’ll come running.” When I returned, Adrian was agitated. “Honey, something urgent came up at the office.” I grabbed his sleeve. “You said you’d stay with me. Please, stay.” He hesitated, a flicker of panic in his eyes, as if he knew that if he left, he would lose something irreplaceable. But he chose her. He gently pried my fingers from his sleeve. “I’ll be back tonight, I promise.” Half an hour later, Isabella sent me a video of Adrian doting on her, promising her the very island he had just gifted to our unborn child. “See?” her message read. “You’ve lost, Luna.” 4 That afternoon, an old professor took me to a temple. A monk there recognized my name. A year ago, Adrian had come, kneeling all the way up the mountain to pray for a protective charm for me. As I was leaving, the monk handed me three other charms Adrian had requested. The names on them were Isabella and the twins. That night, Adrian came home to find me already in bed. This was a first. He held me close, whispering how much he missed me. Then he lied about the island, claiming the feng shui was bad and he’d bought me two others instead. “I want to take the private jet abroad tomorrow,” I said, forcing a playful tone. “I’ve ordered a special gift and want to pick it up myself.” He was hesitant but eventually relented. The next morning, after he left for “the office,” I began to erase him. I shredded the clothes I’d made him. I gave away the jewelry he’d bought me. I threw our photo albums into the fireplace. He returned unexpectedly and saw the last of our memories being consumed by flames. He plunged his bare hands into the fire to save a single charred book. “Why?” he choked, his voice trembling. “They were ugly photos,” I said lightly, hiding my true intentions behind a mask of concern for his burned hands. After he left again, Isabella texted. “Grand Luxe Hotel. Your husband is here. There’s a good show waiting for you.” I knew it would destroy me. But I went anyway. It was the twins’ birthday. Adrian, his parents, his friends—all of them were there, celebrating. The staff called Isabella “Mrs. Lyons.” Adrian didn’t correct them. His mother praised Isabella for giving them grandchildren. Adrian just smiled. “Everything Luna has, she has too. I always buy two of everything.” I thought I was prepared. But in that moment, something inside me exploded. All the love, all the tenderness—it all shattered, the shards turning inward, leaving me bleeding. They all knew. My one-of-a-kind love was just one of a pair. 5 I hid behind a pillar, overhearing Adrian talking to his cousin. “I love Luna,” he’d said. “But Isabella gave me children. I can’t abandon her. This works for me. She won’t find out.” I stumbled out of the hotel. The relentless emotional assault had taken its toll. My vision tunneled, and the world went black. I awoke in an unfamiliar room. A man in a sharp suit sat on a sofa nearby. It was Adrian’s uncle, Dominic Lyons. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm. “The doctor said you fainted from emotional distress, compounded by a recent miscarriage.” He saw the question in my eyes. “Adrian doesn’t know, does he? If he did, he wouldn’t have let you collapse alone on the street.” I begged him to keep my secret, and for some reason, he agreed. When I returned home, Adrian was there, ready to cook for me, offering me yet another piece of jewelry identical to one he’d given Isabella. I just laughed, the sound hollow and brittle. “I want to go to the ‘Little Grotto’,” I said. It was the estate he’d built for me, a place filled with memories. It would be my final goodbye. He paled. He’d given Isabella the keys. He made an excuse and sent her a frantic text to leave. When we arrived, the place was changed. Her flowers, her curtains, her children’s toys. I pretended not to notice and went to the bedroom to retrieve our last photo albums. But when I opened one, I froze. It was filled with pictures of Adrian and Isabella and the twins. In all our special places. Defiling every last sacred memory. As I turned to leave, his phone pinged. He excused himself to the restroom. I followed. Outside the door, I heard his frantic voice, then hers, sultry and suggestive. “With her just downstairs… isn’t this even more exciting?” I heard his breathing grow heavy. “…You little vixen.” The sounds that followed were unmistakable. I stood outside the door, my heart a dead, still thing. I had come from nothing, taught myself to love, and he had taught me how to break. 6 A few minutes later, Adrian emerged. I looked at him, then held up my wrist. “This bracelet you made for me… it’s faded. Will your love for me fade, too, Adrian?” “Never!” he declared, pressing a reverent kiss to my hand. I had planned to leave quietly. But now, I changed my mind. I would make him pay. I wrapped my arms around him. “I love you too, Adrian. So you have to wait for me, and for our baby, to come back.” I handed him a file. “A gift. Don’t open it for two days.” Inside was the report from my abortion and screenshots of Isabella’s taunts. When the news of my “plane crash” reached him, he would open it. He would know his betrayal had cost him everything. “I’ll wait for you,” he said, his eyes shining. As I walked away, I took one last look at him. He had already turned his back to me. “Goodbye, Adrian,” I whispered. “Goodbye, forever.”

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Tristan Chase, the campus heartthrob with a chiseled six-pack, confessed his love to me. Just as I was about to nod, a stream of text scrolled across my vision, like comments on a livestream: 【Don’t tell me she’s actually falling for it.】 【He’s just using a random girl to make Bea jealous.】 【This girl is such a clown! She’s so plain, there’s no way a guy like Tristan would ever be into her!】 I cocked my head. “So, you’re single right now?” Tristan nodded without a moment’s hesitation. The next second, I pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. … Tristan froze, his entire body rigid. I, however, was just getting started. I grinned and bit his lower lip, just for fun. The comments exploded: 【What the hell! He hasn’t even kissed Bea yet! How dare this nobody get his first kiss!】 【Does this girl have no shame?】 If you’re going to use me as a prop, I might as well get paid for it, right? You play with my feelings, I’ll play with your body. Seems fair to me. Tristan’s face was flushed crimson. With rage. Ignoring his look of utter disbelief, I chirped, “Well, boyfriend, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shoved me away, his face contorted in disgust. “Haven, you’re way too easy. Let’s just forget about this—” He didn’t get to finish. A girl in a short skirt was walking toward us from a distance. Tristan’s words died in his throat. The comments cheered: 【Bea’s finally here!】 【He lost sleep all night just because Bea was seen walking with a freshman. He spent hours just staring at her photo, poor baby!】 【My babies need to get together right now!】 Tristan’s eyes were locked on the approaching girl, but his words were directed at me. “My dear girlfriend,” he said through gritted teeth, “let me walk you home.” I scratched my head. “Didn’t you just say we should forget about it?” Tristan hissed, “You. Heard. Wrong.” “Oh, okay,” I said casually, grabbing his long-fingered hand. “Why go home? Let’s go to a hotel.” He was clearly taken aback. “A hotel? What for?” I leaned against his chest, taking the opportunity to give a firm pec a squeeze and trace the outline of his six-pack. “Oh, stop it, darling,” I purred. “What do you think?” Tristan went completely still. Seeing him hesitate, I raised my voice. “You’re not just playing me, are you? Are you using me to make someone else angry? You don’t actually want to be my boyfriend at all!” He frantically clamped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up!” “Fine! Fine! We’ll go!” 【Aaaah, what is this random girl doing! Who gave her permission to date him!】 【Bea looks like she’s about to cry!】 【This is disgusting! She’s nothing but a homewrecker!】 【To be fair, I’m grossed out too, but he did say he was single…】 【Homewreckers should die!】 Heh. I’m not going to die. I’m going to get a room. I immediately hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of the nearest hotel. Soon enough, we were standing in front of a king-sized bed in a “romance suite.” Tristan still looked dazed, as if he had no idea how he’d ended up here. I didn’t give him a chance to back out. I shoved him onto the bed. Click. The handcuffs were on. Tristan’s model-perfect face went blank for a second, then twisted into a mask of anger and regret. Definitely no sign of pleasure or excitement. But I didn’t care. I traced the line of his strong nose, then slid a finger into his mouth, playing with his tongue for a moment. The handcuffs rattled against the metal bed frame. As I pulled my finger away, trailing a silvery thread of saliva, tears welled in Tristan’s eyes. I wiped my hand on his chest, tilted my head, and smiled. “By the way, my name is Autumn. Not Haven.” “Don’t get it wrong later.” Yes. I knew. Even without the scrolling comments, I knew the truth. Tristan Chase didn’t like me. He’d never even noticed me. He’d just picked a familiar-looking name off an elective class sign-in sheet and hadn’t even read it correctly. But I had been watching him for a long time. Son of a movie star and a billionaire CEO. The guy who showed up to class in a Bentley. The guy whose shirt would ride up when he played basketball, revealing a perfectly sculpted six-pack. A prime specimen delivered right to my door. The comments telling me not to touch were just jealous haters. Skrrt~ And I happened to be under a lot of stress lately. So, I wasn’t angry at all. In fact, I was grateful. After all, a normal college girl like me would never cross paths with a rich, handsome guy like him. When I was a kid watching shows like Boys Over Flowers, I always imagined I could be the tenacious, ordinary girl who wins the heart of the rich bad boy. Growing up, I realized that doesn’t happen in real life. The only girls in the F4’s world are the beautiful, elite upperclassmen. From the first day of school, everyone knew Tristan and Beatrice “Bea” Wu were a thing. They claimed they just grew up together. Bea even helped other girls pass love letters to him. Tristan threw every single one in the trash. We weren’t blind. Before today, I was just another face in the background of their love story. But after today? Who knows. I lit an afterglow cigarette and glanced at the beautiful body sprawled on the bed. Tristan’s eyes met mine. He flinched, his fingers tightening on the sheets. “If you get back on this bed, I-I-I’ll kill you!” The comments, which had been silent all night, finally reappeared, flooding my vision. 【?】 【??????】 【My heart, once full of hope, is now dead. He’s no longer pure.】 【He must be really furious to sacrifice his own body just to make Bea jealous!】 【He’s just practicing on this random girl so he can be better for Bea later!】 【Does he look like he got any practice? He looks like he’s been completely drained…】 I looked with satisfaction at the marks covering his body. “Tough talk,” I purred. “But you seemed to enjoy it.” Tristan bit his lip, humiliated. “No, I didn’t!” “Stay away from me!” “Don’t worry,” I soothed, “I have to meet my advisor soon. No time for another round.” I was already dressed. As I reached the door, Tristan’s voice, laced with frustration, called out. “You’re just leaving? Aren’t you forgetting something?” I walked back to the bed and leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips. “There, there. No pouting. I have important things to do.” Tristan’s eyes went wide. He started trembling with rage, which, I had to admit, was quite adorable. “I meant the handcuffs!” he roared. “Oh, right,” I said, as if just remembering. I pulled the key from my pocket and tossed it to the foot of the bed. A little hard to reach. But not impossible. Worst case, he could always make a phone call. And with that, I left without a backward glance. … In the days that followed, I didn’t contact Tristan. I heard he took two days off. When he reappeared, he was wearing a turtleneck in the middle of summer. When a girl accidentally bumped into him on the path, he leaped a foot in the air like a startled deer. We met again in gym class. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The battle was intense. Tristan was playing tennis. I was practicing Tai Chi. When I finished my routine, I went to admire his form for a bit. The strong lines of his arm muscles, the power in his legs, and the way his shirt would lift with each swing, revealing the abs that haunted my dreams. He was too focused to notice me. His opponent was another rich kid. After Tristan missed several shots in a row, the guy teased him. “What happened, man? You were on fire a minute ago. Suddenly choking?” “Your girl Bea isn’t even here. Wait, no, she is here. You should be playing even harder.” “Or did you see someone who scares you?” Tristan told him to shut up. Just then, Bea appeared, holding a water bottle. “Tristan, I brought you some water. I added lemon and amino acids.” Tristan didn’t reach for it. Bea’s expression turned awkward. I picked up my own water bottle and walked over. Tristan didn’t reach for mine either. His face clearly said: Who the hell do you think you are, offering me water? I asked sweetly, “Boyfriend, do you need me to feed it to you?” His expression froze. He snatched the bottle from my hand. Bea’s eyes instantly turned red. “But… you only ever drink the water I bring you…” The comments arrived right on cue: 【My poor Bea. My heart hurts for her.】 【He’s just being petty again. He was so happy the second he saw her.】 【The more smug this random girl is now, the bigger a clown she’ll look when the truth comes out!】 【Am I crazy, or does he look less like he’s trying to make her jealous and more like… he’s terrified?】 After my good deed for the day, I turned and left. My advisor had asked me to attend a dinner tonight. I had no time for these comments, and I left Tristan and Bea far behind me. The private room was full of old men I didn’t know. After several glasses of wine, my advisor smiled benevolently. “Autumn, that paper of yours is quite good. Old Mr. Clark’s son is working in the same field, and he’s in need of a first-author publication…” I didn’t say anything. My advisor’s face darkened. “Do you want to graduate or not?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. This wasn’t the first time he’d made a request like this. The crushing pressure of my dead-end days, with no release in sight. It felt like being held underwater, my throat constricted. Someone else, pretending to be a peacemaker, said, “Autumn, hurry up and pour a glass for your professor! Apologize!” I was already unsteady on my feet, but a glass was shoved into my hand anyway. Just then, the door to the room was kicked open. Tristan Chase appeared in the doorway like a hero descending from the heavens. … The night air cleared my head a little. Standing on the curb, I casually stopped the audio recording on my phone. “Thank you,” I said to Tristan. He raised an eyebrow, looking a little smug. “Don’t get any ideas. I was just returning your water bottle.” He muttered under his breath, “Who makes someone go all the way to a place like this just to return a stupid water bottle…” Yes, I had sent him the address of the dinner. I knew he had a hero complex. “Still, thank you,” I said gratefully. “Let me buy you dinner.” “Not necessary.” “Then… let me get you a room?” Tristan’s face froze. His lips moved. I think he mouthed the word “pervert.” He was about to leave, but as he took the first step, I leaned over a trash can and threw up. Afterward, I closed my eyes and passed out. In the end, Tristan resignedly dragged me to a hotel. In my semi-conscious state, I clung to his abs, murmuring “thank you” over and over again. He blushed. This time, from shyness. The comments were a unified chorus, calling me shameless for taking advantage of the situation. There were also a few well-rounded individuals who shipped everything. … The next morning, I woke up to see Tristan still asleep in the adjacent bed. In the soft morning light, I took a moment to appreciate his beauty. Before I left, I couldn’t resist leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Tristan didn’t open his eyes, but his eyelashes fluttered rapidly, like the wings of a broken butterfly. For the next few days, we went back to having no contact. Until one morning, he was waiting for me outside my dorm. He demanded to know why I hadn’t been in touch. “Autumn, don’t tell me you forgot we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” I answered honestly. “I don’t have your number.” We hadn’t even added each other on any social media. Tristan was speechless. Then he took my phone, added himself as a contact, and handed it back. The contact name was already saved: 【Boyfriend】. I felt a little dazed. The comments appeared, right on schedule: 【Don’t flatter yourself, prop girl. He only did this because he saw Bea going to class with that freshman today.】 【He’s going to parade her around to get back at Bea!】 【The second Bea apologizes, he’ll drop this girl like a hot potato!】 【And to make Bea happy, he’ll probably even give her the girl’s PhD spot.】 That last part was a bit too absurd. I didn’t buy it. Sure enough, Tristan asked me to go to class with him. I glanced at my own schedule and shook my head. “I have my own class.” He looked annoyed but left anyway. At noon, he texted me, asking me to lunch. I went. A Michelin-star restaurant. That evening, he invited me to a barbecue with his friends. I went. In a Bugatti Veyron. We watched fireworks on a private beach at a five-star hotel. Life was too good. Tristan introduced me to a world I’d never known. One night, drunk and happy, I found myself telling him everything. From the time I blew up a septic tank at age eight to leaving home for college at eighteen. Tristan watched me, his eyes never leaving my face. He told me he wanted to spend his upcoming birthday with me. We pinky-promised. Then, one day, he was looking at me, his head tilted. “You seem… happier now,” he said. In that moment, I could hear my own heart beating. I had never cared about the comments before. But now, they were starting to get on my nerves. Especially when they announced that today was the day Tristan and Bea would finally get together. … I was walking through a small grove of trees, wearing flip-flops and carrying four takeout boxes for my roommates. The sound of a girl crying made me look over. A tall boy and a petite girl were standing face-to-face. Bea was sobbing uncontrollably. “Tristan, I-I-I was wrong,” she stammered. “Please don’t punish me like this anymore. I’ll never talk to another guy again… Please, Tristan, forgive me.” I saw the man who was just sharing his gaming victories with me yesterday now looking at the girl before him with a mix of helplessness and heartache. 【Angsty hero vs. damsel in distress, they’re so perfect for each other, I’m literally deceased!】 【Finally, I don’t have to look at that random girl’s plain face anymore! Hooray!】 As the comments cheered, Bea threw herself into Tristan’s arms. “Tristan, let’s be together…” I sighed. I had a thesis to finish; no time for melodrama. I turned to leave. But in that instant, as if sensing something, Tristan looked up. Our eyes met. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. The next second, the delicate, pretty girl stood on her toes. A kiss landed on his chin. Tristan froze. It was a beautiful picture. And there I was, in my faded t-shirt and flip-flops, shuffling further and further away. I wasn’t interested in Tristan’s answer. It was obvious. The comments erupted in celebration: 【The random girl is finally offline!】 【Look at her, scurrying away like a stray dog with its tail between its legs.】 【Don’t insult dogs, they’re cute. You can’t compare them to her!】 【I don’t know… I suddenly feel a little bad for her…】 No. Don’t feel bad for me. I have an education, a loving mother, and a bright future. Back in my dorm, I got a message from Tristan. 【?】 【You just left?】 【Don’t you have anything to say?】 I didn’t reply. The screen showed that he was typing for a long time. Finally, a new message came through: 【I’m sorry for what happened before. Is there anything you want as compensation?】 I typed back: 【I hate it when people ask me so many questions.】 Then, I blocked him.

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My engagement to Adrian Pearce, heir to Crestfall’s wealthiest family, was meant to be a fairy tale—until a stranger approached me while shopping. “I like your blue bra,” he smirked. “Better than yesterday’s red one.” Ice shot through my veins. He was right. I’d never seen him before. As I tried to drag him to the police, he sneered, “Don’t act innocent. You’re the one livestreaming your life for attention.” He wasn’t lying. Somewhere online, my every moment—showering, sleeping—was broadcast. I hired hackers, moved, even sought spiritual help. Nothing stopped it. Crestfall mocked me: 【Free show of the Prady heiress! Guess I’m elite too now.】 Adrian used the scandal to dump me and propose to my adopted sister, Chloe. On my would-be wedding day, the venue screen was hacked—displaying the livestream. Vile comments flooded in: 【Hope they broadcast the wedding night.】 【She’s definitely been around.】 Humiliated, I jumped from the rooftop. As I died, I saw Chloe smirking in Adrian’s arms: “She loved the spotlight. Too bad she never knew it was all thanks to—” Then—I woke up. Back on that street. The day it all began. 1 The man’s leering words were so vile I had to duck into an alley to retch. When I was done, I pulled out my phone, my hand trembling as I opened the link to that cursed website—a site I had visited a thousand times before. On the screen, the version of me in the livestream was also staring down at her phone, her face a mask of grim realization. This wasn’t a dream. I was really back. But I had only returned to the start of the nightmare. The livestream was still active, a relentless shadow I couldn’t shake. In my last life, I had tried everything. The police told me the site’s domain was untraceable, a ghost in the machine. They couldn’t shut it down, let alone find the culprit. I offered a top-tier hacker ten million dollars; he turned me down flat, saying the site’s architecture was unlike anything he’d ever seen, something beyond his capabilities. Desperate, I moved, consulted spiritualists, and even hid myself away in a secluded retreat, but nothing worked. Each failed attempt only dragged me deeper into despair. Then came the public humiliation of Adrian breaking our engagement, followed by the relentless storm of ridicule, both online and in person. The weight of it all became unbearable. I, who had always been so terrified of pain, found myself standing on that ledge. After I died, Chloe inherited my life. She took my place in the family business and married Adrian. The two of them were disgustingly intertwined at my funeral, laughing about how my death had paved their way. The memory still makes my teeth ache with hatred. I only heard half of Chloe’s confession before I died, but it was enough. Knowing she was the one pulling the strings, I wouldn’t be fumbling in the dark like last time. I had to figure out how she was doing it. The first thing I did when I got home was call a demolition crew and tell them to tear down my bedroom wall. Last time, I’d noticed the livestream only ever showed my room from a single, fixed angle. I’d had it scanned for bugs, but nothing turned up. This time, I was going bigger. Sledgehammers. The noise quickly drew my mother and Chloe. 2 My mother, still unaware of the livestream, was furious. “Vivian, what is the meaning of this? Are you tearing the house down?” Chloe stood beside her, a picture of faux concern. “Vivian, I know you have a temper, but taking it out on the walls? Isn’t that a bit much?” I tilted my head, my eyes narrowed, catching the flicker of triumph in hers. “Who said anything about a temper?” I replied, my voice cool. “I’m looking for a hidden camera. Someone has been livestreaming my every move, and I’m going to find out who.” I pulled out my phone and showed them the website. My mother gasped, horrified. Chloe, by contrast, was unnervingly calm. Got you. She raised an eyebrow. “Even if someone was filming you, why would they put a camera inside a load-bearing wall? Vivian, are you losing your mind?” I stared at her, dissecting her expression. No shock, no alarm. It wasn’t the wall. “Fine,” I conceded. “We won’t tear it down. Get me a signal jammer. The most powerful one you can find.” I’d consulted an expert who suspected a wireless camera was more likely than a wired one. He suggested using high-frequency electromagnetic waves to disrupt the transmission. As the technicians set up the equipment, I watched Chloe’s reaction. She met my gaze, then turned away with a cold, dismissive smirk. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. My nails dug into my palms. A technician began cranking up the frequency. My eyes were glued to the livestream on my phone, but the picture remained perfectly stable. Not so much as a flicker of static. My breath came in ragged gasps. “Higher!” I shrieked. “Turn it higher!” Finally, the technician shook his head, telling me they were at maximum output. The stream was as clear as ever. Damn it. It hadn’t worked. “Oh, Vivian,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, though her eyes danced with unconcealed glee. “You’ll have to be so careful from now on. Maybe just… stop showering altogether.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I leaned in close, my voice a low, menacing whisper in her ear. “I know it was you. I just don’t have the proof yet.” Chloe flinched for a fraction of a second before her composure returned. “Don’t make baseless accusations,” she said, her tone breezy. “Soon you won’t even be able to use the bathroom in peace. If I were you, I’d have already killed myself.” The word suicide sent a phantom shock of agony through me—the dizzying fall, the shattering impact. I trembled, the memory a physical blow. The hacker I’d hired had told me the website’s code didn’t seem like modern technology. His words had sent me down a rabbit hole of superstition and prayer, but all along, it was just a trap set by Chloe. But how? How did she do it? A few days later, I showed Chloe a set of photos. Pictures of her and Adrian in bed together. “You put my life on display, so I’ll return the favor. Let’s see how you like being the star of the show.” Her face paled, but she recovered quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. The family is already dealing with one scandal because of you. Releasing those would just humiliate the Pradys and the Pearces even more. I’d think twice if I were you.” “I’m done thinking,” I snarled. “I have more. Much more. Shut down that stream, or everyone will see exactly what kind of person you are.” I stormed off, but a nagging feeling told me something was wrong. Chloe was too confident. I had paid a fortune for those photos and videos; they were undeniably real. What did she have up her sleeve? The next day, the livestream was still running. And my parents cornered me, demanding I drop the blackmail. I was stunned, a wave of disbelief washing over me. “She seduced my fiancé! She’s the one who betrayed this family! I’m the one who’s supposed to be marrying into the Pearce family!” My father wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Vivian, be reasonable. This merger is critical. With this scandal, the Pearces are… dissatisfied with you. They’ve suggested Chloe as a replacement. It’s a difficult situation.” “We were going to tell you,” my mother added softly, “but we didn’t want the conversation to be… broadcast.” A chill seeped into my bones. They had already made a deal behind my back. They had let the Pearce family humiliate me, discard me, without a fight. Then, Adrian called. “Because of that stream, everyone has seen you,” he said, his voice cold and distant. “Marrying you now would be a stain on my family’s name.” My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles were white. This was the same man who once flew across the country just to make me chicken soup when I had a cold. The same man who would be sleeping with my sister the moment I was in the ground. No one was on my side. The feeling of absolute abandonment made my eyes burn. I clutched the hem of my shirt, my voice barely a whisper. “Fine.” Later that night, lost in a daze, I replayed the recording of the previous day’s livestream. To my astonishment, the entire confrontation with Chloe—the photos, the threats—was missing. It had been completely wiped. In disbelief, I searched online archives and torrent sites. Nothing. The footage was gone everywhere. A spark of excitement cut through the gloom. That night, I gathered my pillow and a blanket and walked into Chloe’s room. “We used to have sleepovers when we were kids,” I said with a bright, false smile. “I thought it would be nice to get close again.” 3 The color drained from Chloe’s face. “I don’t like sharing my room.” I ignored her, cheerfully setting up my makeshift bed on her floor. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in your bed.” Her reaction confirmed it. She had some way of controlling the unseen cameras around me. If Chloe didn’t want her own privacy invaded, then I would become her shadow. I checked the livestream. Sure enough, the screen was black. Relief washed over me. From that day on, I stuck to Chloe like glue. I even started mimicking her style, copying her makeup and clothes. After all, the only reason my mother had picked her from the orphanage was because of her slight resemblance to me. Now, with a little effort, we looked nearly identical. In my past life, she’d accused me of being a show-off. The truth was, her years in the orphanage had left her with a crippling inferiority complex; she saw slights and condescension where there were none. Being followed constantly was clearly getting to her. Her brow was perpetually furrowed, but her voice remained steady. “This won’t work, you know.” I took her lack of protest as a sign that I had finally cornered her. The stream had stopped, and for the first time in weeks, I could breathe without feeling the weight of a million eyes on me. But a few days later, my parents arrived with two paramedics. They were here to take me to a psychiatric hospital. Chloe stood behind them, squeezing out a few crocodile tears. “Vivian’s had a complete breakdown. That’s why she’s been copying me. We can’t just let her get worse, can we?” My mother’s face was heavy with disappointment. “This obsession with your sister is unbecoming. A daughter of the Prady family with mental problems… The scandal would be unbearable.” “Mom, I’m not sick!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “It was the only way to stop the stream! You have to believe me! As soon as I started dressing like her, the stream went black. Chloe is behind all of this!” My parents exchanged a look of pity and disbelief. A doctor stepped forward. “Persecutory delusions are a classic sign of a developing psychiatric condition,” he explained gently. “It’s very important that we start medication and treatment right away.” Panic seized me. “No, I’m not lying! I can prove it!” My fingers trembled as I pulled up the livestream on my phone. On the screen, my own frantic, desperate face stared back. My world froze. I turned my head and met Chloe’s eyes. They were filled with faint, mocking amusement. The stream had never stopped. She had just been toying with me. My father saw the live feed and took a step back. “We understand you’re under a lot of pressure, Vivian. But your actions have already damaged this family’s reputation. Replacing you with your sister for the merger was a necessary evil. Why must you keep trying to drag her down with you?” Chloe wrapped her arm around my father’s. “I think a stay at a mental health facility is for the best. She needs proper treatment.” My parents didn’t object. The paramedics moved in, grabbing my arms to pull me out the door. If they took me to that hospital, I’d never find a way to stop the stream. I would have no hope left. I twisted out of their grasp, scrambling backward while frantically wiping off my lipstick and pulling off the wig. “It was an act! I was just pretending! I didn’t want to lose Adrian!” 4 “Is there any point in admitting that now, Vivian?” Chloe’s voice was cold. “Just go with the doctors quietly.” They forced me into the ambulance. I clawed at the door, but my strength gave out. At the hospital, I tried to explain to every doctor and nurse that I wasn’t sick, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. They just had the orderlies hold me down and force pills down my throat. The medication left me in a constant, heavy fog. The only way to keep my mind sharp was to inflict small pains on myself, tiny anchors to reality. My parents visited once. My eyes were red and swollen as I clutched their hands, begging them to take me home. “I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t ever try to imitate Chloe again.” My father gently pulled his hand away. “Chloe’s engagement party is a major event for the family. We can’t risk any… disruptions. It could affect our investors. Just stay here and rest. The doctors will take good care of you.” The livestream continued, relentless and cruel. Was this life destined to be a carbon copy of the last, a slow-motion train wreck broadcast for the world’s entertainment? After a month of compliant behavior—swallowing my pills without a fight—I finally earned back my internet privileges. I spent hours poring over every frame of the archived streams. And then I saw it. I finally found Chloe’s secret. It was hidden in plain sight the whole time. A tiny, insignificant object. A feeling of release, so profound it was almost violent, washed over me. I found myself laughing and crying in front of the screen, a madwoman illuminated by the glow of my own prison. The live chat flooded with comments about how I’d finally lost it. 【The Pearce family dumped her and her own family locked her up. It was only a matter of time before she snapped.】 I silently closed the laptop. My mind, for the first time in ages, was crystal clear. It was time for Chloe and Adrian to pay.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393675”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My new little snake won’t stop headbutting me. Worried something was wrong, I frantically messaged the online shop I bought him from. 【Hi there! That just means your snake’s head is feeling a little itchy. Just give him a few more pets and he’ll be fine.】 I shot back a reply immediately. 【No way, I’ve already pet his little head so much it’s practically raw.】 The seller: 【We didn’t mean that head.】 A few days ago, the baby snake I’d ordered online arrived, and he was the sweetest, most docile little thing. I couldn’t resist. I placed another order. But the shop owner replied: 【Hey, so sorry, but that particular snake has been so popular it’s completely sold out. If you don’t mind, we could offer you another one of our precious serpents from the shop.】 I stared at the product page, which showed a sales count of exactly ‘1,’ and fell into a thoughtful silence. This had to be some kind of marketing gimmick. I was about to refuse when the picture they sent completely captivated me. It was a perfect shot of my absolute weakness: a man with a lean, chiseled torso, those V-lines disappearing tantalizingly below the frame. Coiled on his porcelain-pale skin was a baby black king snake, no thicker than a finger. The tiny serpent was latched onto a pectoral muscle, nursing so intently that it was completely oblivious to its crime being documented. I practically drooled. Ooh, and they were pink. They were both from the same shop, so how come this snake was eating so well? 【If you place the order now, we’ll even throw in a collection of the baby snake’s growth photos for free~】 【Does that include pictures of the abs?】 I typed back. 【Of course.】 I had to admit, their honey-trap strategy was first-rate. So pale, so… generous. I’d call him Snowy. I placed the order in a flash. Hilarious. There wasn’t a trace of lust for those abs in my eyes—it was all pure, unadulterated adoration for little Snowy. Snowy and Inky looked so much alike; their personalities had to be just as sweet, right? The moment my payment went through, the seller played right along. 【Your order will be personally delivered by our model and owner! We hope you have a wonderful time~】 A warmth spread through my chest. The way they phrased it, you’d think if you bought the snake, they’d throw in the owner for free. 2 Less than half a day later, my doorbell rang. But when I swung the door open in excitement, I didn’t see the handsome model with the chiseled torso. In fact, I didn’t see anyone at all. Deeply disappointed, I was about to shut the door when a notification popped up on my phone: “Your item has been delivered.” I glanced down and finally noticed a small cardboard box nestled among the clutter by my doorway. Inside the box was the pet snake I’d ordered. What happened to the personal delivery by the model-owner? Never mind not seeing him, but who just dumps a package like this on the doorstep? I was starting to get annoyed. I was seriously considering leaving a bad review. But Snowy was just too beautiful. And so clingy. The moment I opened the box, he poked his little head out and slithered up my arm without any hesitation. According to the girls in my snake-enthusiast Discord, when a snake willingly coils around its owner’s wrist, it’s a sign of trust. This was our very first meeting, and Snowy already trusted me this much. He was just as well-behaved as Inky! My heart swelled with joy, and all thoughts of leaving a bad review vanished from my mind. Cradling Snowy, I brought him over to Inky’s enclosure, hoping they’d get acquainted. Normally, Inky was timid and shy around new things. But this time, the second I placed Snowy inside, Inky immediately rolled over, exposing his soft underbelly. Inky seemed incredibly excited, constantly trying to snuggle up to Snowy. After a long while of being pestered, Snowy finally gave Inky’s belly a brief, dismissive nudge with his head. His expression was one of pure disdain, as if to say, “Alright, you can get lost now.” I snapped a picture of the scene and posted it in the Discord server with the caption: “My new baby male snake seems to be getting along great with the resident! Any tips for a newbie raising a male?” Almost immediately, someone tagged me. I expected some helpful advice, but their comments were… suggestive. 【@Penny, girl, you’re eating well! And you got two of them!】 【These Serpents have so much energy, one is enough to leave me exhausted. You got two?! Girl, are you trying to get your back broken?】 【Once upon a time, I was an innocent soul who didn’t know what a Serpent-brand powerhouse was. I’ve learned my lesson now.】 【They look so much alike, I can’t even tell them apart. I heard Serpents are jealous creatures. Yours don’t fight?】 I took a moment to reply: 【Nope, they’re both very good.】 My response was met with a chorus of envy in the chat. 【You must have them well-trained! Mine won’t even let me look at my phone! He gets so jealous and tells me that for every minute I’m on my phone, he’s adding ten more rounds.】 【Ugh, same! He’s only been letting me catch a break because he’s pregnant and sleepy lately. That’s the only reason I have a second to reply to you guys.】 【Same here, just like my man.】 【Everyone knows Serpents have two… you know. So you’ve got two Serpents, which means four! Whoa, girl, are you even gonna survive that? Will you be okay?】 I felt a little weirded out. What did they mean, “will I be okay?” And those other women… did the snakes tell them all that in a dream or something? It was a bit much. How could a snake possibly talk? But to keep the peace in the group, I just ignored that last comment and replied to the one before it. 【No, I have one female and one male.】 The chat instantly exploded. 【Damn, girl, you’re playing on expert mode!】 I exited the chat, feeling utterly bewildered. The girls in that group were definitely strange. Thankfully, someone with more experience sent me a private message. 【This male looks quite a bit larger than the female. Are you sure you bought a baby snake?】 I replied: 【Don’t they look the same size?】 The response was swift: 【You really are a complete newbie, aren’t you? Didn’t you know that male snakes of this breed are several times smaller than females of the same age?】 【Judging by the size, you bought an adult male. The seller probably scammed you.】 Most buyers preferred to raise serpents from when they were babies. Very few would buy a fully grown male. For one, adult males had trouble bonding with a new owner. And two, any good adult male wouldn’t be on the market. If he was being sold again, it meant his stamina and endurance were probably lacking. Otherwise, why would his previous owner give him up? Besides, buyers had a thing for raising serpents from the start. A male who’d had too many owners was considered undesirable. But I didn’t really care about any of that. It wasn’t like I was looking for a husband. It was just a pet. Still, I was definitely going to leave that seller a bad review. 3 The Discord server was a goldmine of daily tips for raising serpents, and I learned a ton from it. Ever since I got my two little snakes, I found myself sneaking peeks at the group chat during my work breaks. 【Hey guys, my snake has been a little down lately. Any suggestions?】 【That’s easy! A little physical affection solves everything. Just give his little tummy a good rub.】 【There are still good people in this world.】 【OMG, girl… that’s way too spicy. I just gave him a little touch, and things got completely out of hand.】 I put down my phone. I’d noticed my two serpents had been off their food recently. One morning, I even woke up to find them coiled on my chest, nuzzling against me. I’d asked the group about it, and they all said the same thing: the snakes were hungry. But the food I left in their bowls remained untouched. Seeing how highly everyone praised belly rubs, I decided to give it a try myself. That evening, I called my two little ones over, ready to put the theory into practice. Everyone said it was best not to keep serpents in a tank, or they might get depressed, so mine had free roam of the house. Right now, though, they were nowhere to be found. I called their names several times, but neither appeared. I tried calling again. Since I often had trouble telling them apart, I’d given them little hats to wear for differentiation. This time, there was a stir. A moment later, a snake with a tiny pink hat slithered up to me. It was Snowy. I gently poked his little head. He didn’t flinch, just stared up at me with those big, round, innocent eyes. I placed Snowy on my lap and flipped him over to expose his little belly. The sudden movement seemed to stun him for a second. Usually, he was the one showing me his belly to be cute; I’d never been the one to initiate it. When Snowy snapped out of it, he excitedly wrapped his body tightly around my hand. I started by gently stroking his tiny tail before moving on to his belly, using the rubbing technique I’d seen in the group chat. The texture was incredible, so soft and yielding. I couldn’t resist giving it a little squeeze. At that, the tail that had been coiled tightly around my fingers went slack, quivering faintly as it rested against me. Seeing how well it was working, I happily continued rubbing lower. I’d heard that if you rubbed them just right, you could make them squeak. I’d only ever heard them hiss, and the thought of a little squeak made me incredibly curious. But before I could find the right spot, the little snake suddenly arched his back and began to thrash wildly. He was trembling so violently that I thought I must have hurt him, so I eased up on the pressure. But then, he started shaking even more intensely. And in a flash, he wriggled free and darted away. Did the belly rub work? Maybe he ran off to eat? I couldn’t find him anywhere, so I decided to let him be and turned my attention to calling for Inky. Ever since Snowy arrived, Inky hadn’t been as clingy as usual and was harder to summon. I had to call his name several times before he finally, sluggishly, appeared. Inky’s little blue hat was askew, threatening to fall off with the slightest movement. Looking closer, I saw that his entire body was trembling uncontrollably. Putting this together with Inky’s strange behavior over the past few days, I knew at once: Snowy had been bullying him! I had no idea where Snowy had scurried off to. After a long search, I finally found him curled up asleep in his little bed. Without a second thought, I scooped him up. “Snowy, were you bullying your sister?” He tilted his head, a look of pure confusion on his face. A tiny head, filled with big questions. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. My heart melted at the sight of his pitiful expression, but I knew I had to set some ground rules for Snowy. I forced myself to be firm. “You’re the big brother. You can’t bully your little sister. Look how miserable she is,” I said, pointing towards Inky. Snowy followed my finger. He saw “Inky” swaying unsteadily, looking as if he was about to faint. Seeing “Inky” in such a state only seemed to confuse Snowy more. Though he clearly didn’t understand what was happening, he dutifully nuzzled my fingertip and then rubbed his soft little head against my palm as if to soothe me. This soft, cuddly little thing was trying to comfort me. My resolve crumbled. I let him off with a warning not to do it again. But my little sister still needed comforting. To make it up to her, I gave her an extra-long belly rub. The whole time, “Snowy” kept cheekily nuzzling against me. I just pushed him away, my face impassive. “No. Didn’t I just give you a belly rub?” The little guy scurried away in a huff. Even by bedtime, “Snowy” hadn’t shown his face. I knew the little guy was sulking, but I didn’t go looking for him. I just snuggled up with “Inky” and went to sleep. He was a big boy snake. A real man. There was no need for all those tears. 4 I didn’t sleep well that night. In my dreams, I kept hearing a man’s voice, soft and gentle. “There, there, Mommy didn’t mean it. It must be because you keep climbing onto her at night, begging for milk. She’s not getting enough sleep, that’s why she got upset with you, baby.” The reply was a barely audible hiss. The man chuckled softly, his voice a low murmur. “Daddy only eats because Mommy lets him. Mommy didn’t say you could.” The hissing grew louder, punctuated by the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a snake’s tail hitting the floor. The force was so great it sounded like it might crack the tiles. “I’m not lying. Be a good boy and go to sleep. If you don’t, Mommy will get angry with you again.” At the man’s words, the temper tantrum stopped. The sounds ceased. The little snake seemed to say something. But the man refused without a moment’s hesitation. “No. You’ve had more than enough today. No more. If you drink it all, what will Mommy have? Daddy needs to save some for Mommy, too.” Ever since that day, I made a habit of giving my two little snakes regular belly rubs. But lately, I noticed that even the usually clingy Inky was ignoring me. He’d also developed a habit of stealing my extra-sweet bubble tea. Every time I woke up from a nap, the milk tea I’d ordered before I fell asleep would end up in his stomach. And how did I know? Well, Inky was too dense to destroy the evidence. I’d always find the empty cup in his little bed. Stealing my bubble tea was one thing, but now he was addicted to the internet. He’d skip meals just to watch videos on my tablet. I’d even set a passcode, but somehow, he always managed to unlock it. The girls in the Discord said this was all normal, but I was still worried about his eyes. Conversely, it was the usually proud and aloof Snowy who was now constantly seeking my affection, acting cute and cuddly. One day, I came home from work to find Snowy curled up in a perfect little doughnut shape, waiting for me by the door. I gave his soft little head an absentminded pat and then went to the sofa to find Inky. Sure enough, there he was, nestled in his bed, engrossed in the tablet. I tiptoed up behind him, curious to see what he was watching so intently. I thought maybe he was watching something that was teaching him bad habits. Instead, I found him watching the same video on a loop. He’d even saved it to his favorites. I leaned in closer. This time, Inky noticed me. He seemed to have a bone to pick with me, agitatedly pointing his little tail at the screen. I followed his tail and read the text on the video. 【The following behaviors are actually the serpent deliberately acting cute.】 【The serpent world has its own manipulative charmers.】 【When a serpent frequently tilts its head to look at you, dear owners, do not be fooled! It’s just putting on a cute act!】 I glanced at Snowy, who was, at that very moment, tilting his head to look at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Every single point seemed to be aimed directly at him. Inky must be jealous. Given Inky’s clear dissatisfaction, I decided to give him the first belly rub of the evening. He was unusually excited today, acting as if it were his first time. He kept pointing his little tail here and there, completely different from his usual self. With Inky happy, now Snowy was displeased. He kept “accidentally” brushing his head against me. Soon, even belly rubs and head pats weren’t enough. He started bumping his head against me. At first, I just thought he was being playful and told him to stop messing around. “Behave now. Settle down.” He did settle down, for a bit. But later that night, Snowy was still restless. 5 I was woken up by Snowy nuzzling me. The spot he chose was so… awkward. Blushing, I fished him out from under the covers. “You little pervert, you can’t rub there.” He seemed to be doing it unconsciously, his eyes looking at me with a dazed, confused expression. His body felt hot to the touch. In the haze of sleep, I thought I felt Snowy’s tongue flick out. “Are you hungry?” I asked. The little snake didn’t answer, just kept bumping his head against my palm. The force was light, but something felt very, very wrong. I posted in the Discord server, but the replies were not very helpful. 【Mine’s never done that before. First time I’ve seen it. Is he hungry?】 【Mine hasn’t either. Maybe he’s sick? You should ask the seller, they should offer some after-sale support.】 Thankfully, it was the weekend, so even though few people were online, a couple of kind souls replied. Following their advice, I reached out to the seller, not sure if they’d even reply at this hour. I hesitantly typed out my message: 【Hi, I think something’s wrong with my snake.】 To my surprise, they replied instantly: 【Hi there! Can you describe the problem in detail?】 I was thrilled. 【He keeps headbutting me, and he was rubbing against me while I was sleeping… oh, and his body temperature is really high! Is he sick?】 【Could you be more specific? For example, where did he headbutt you, and where did he rub against you?】 I felt a flush of embarrassment. 【Well… here and there…】 【…】 It took a long time for the seller to reply. When they finally did, their diagnosis was: 【Hi there! That just means your snake’s head is feeling a little itchy. Just give him a few more pets and he’ll be fine.】 I immediately shot back: 【No way, I’ve already pet his little head so much it’s practically raw.】 The seller: 【We didn’t mean that head.】 After a patient explanation from the seller, I finally understood. Snowy was in heat. I was starting to panic. Snowy’s temperature was getting higher, and he kept trying to burrow into my clothes. 【So what do I do?】 【You do it!】 I felt like their answer was completely useless. I was still clueless. 【Is there a video tutorial or something? I don’t know how!】 【? I’m sorry, but we don’t provide video tutorials for that. Besides, saying too much could get our account banned.】 【If you… really want one, you could try looking for a link online.】 No way. How would I even search for that? Where would I even look? 【Girls, emergency! Does anyone know what to do when a serpent is in heat?】 I typed furiously, clamping my legs together, terrified that Snowy would find his way inside if I wasn’t careful. I could only hope someone in the group would send me a link soon. It was one of the same girls from before who replied. 【What else can you do? You do it!】 【How?! This is my first time dealing with this! Can someone send me a video? Or even a text guide would work!】 【LMAO, I’m dying. This is the first time I’ve ever seen someone ask for something like this. Must be your first time, huh?】 【Yes! Can someone seriously send me a video? My snake is starting to chew on my clothes!】 【I got you, girl, I got you! I’m looking for one now!】 My sisters, my saviors. A two-hour-long video link quickly popped up in the chat. 【I won’t show you the rest, don’t want to get reported. Of course, if you’re worried you won’t get the angle right, I can DM you a tutorial video.】 This comment brought out all the night owls. 【Damn, you really don’t see us as outsiders, do you!】 【Woooow, you’re eating well too! Your Serpent is a dark-skinned muscle man!】 【That video is so well-shot, it’s making me want to drag my own snake over for another round.】 I felt like I’d been thrown a lifeline and quickly tapped the link. But the sounds that came from my phone almost made me throw it across the room. What the hell? What kind of video was this?! And on the screen… why were there two people?

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I was just about to pull out my black card to sponsor Sean Miller’s tuition. But the shy, unassuming boy before me suddenly became cold and aloof. A stream of comments scrolled frantically across my vision. 【The male lead has been reborn. He’s back at the very beginning.】 【In this life, he can finally be with his childhood sweetheart and fix last life’s regrets.】 【If it weren’t for the villainess and her dirty money getting between them, the main couple never would have missed out on a lifetime together.】 I looked up and met Sean’s suddenly icy gaze. His eyes only reddened when he turned to look at his childhood sweetheart. Well, this is interesting. The male lead has been reborn. Back to being eighteen, dirt-poor, with nothing to his name. 1 Standing this close to Sean, I could feel the distinct shift in his aura. It was an air of sophistication, the kind that only comes from being steeped in money for a long, long time. It was something you’d never find on a broke kid. He glanced at the black card in my hand with disgust, his voice flat and distant. “I told you, I’ll figure out my own tuition. I don’t need you to insult my dignity with your money.” With that, he walked straight past me and pulled Molly Peters, who was glaring at me with open hostility, into his arms. He held her with the kind of force you use on a long-lost treasure finally recovered. “Molly,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything, I finally know. You’re the one I love most in this life.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the onlookers. The comments scrolling before my eyes became even more dense. 【OMG! The ML is so brave! The first thing he does after being reborn is confess to the female lead!】 【Right? No beating around the bush!】 【The evil villainess must be stunned. In the last life, the ML reluctantly took her black card for tuition and agreed to be with her. Now that he’s reborn, all her money is useless!】 2 I rubbed my eyes and stared at the floating text, piecing together the facts. I was the “villainess” they were talking about. The wicked rich girl who used money to force the male lead into a relationship. And Sean, the boy in front of me, had been reborn. In our previous life, I had fallen for him at first sight when we started university. When I found out he couldn’t afford tuition, I offered him my black card, covering all his expenses for four years on the condition that he would be my boyfriend. After a long, agonizing struggle, Sean had accepted the card, and my terms, with a sense of deep humiliation. He buried his years of pining for his childhood sweetheart, Molly, deep in his heart. He believed I was the one who tore his true love apart, and he resented my spoiled, arrogant personality. He was sensitive and insecure, feeling like he had no dignity in our relationship. But he had also grown accustomed to the lifestyle my money provided and couldn’t bear to lose me, his cash cow. Two years after graduation, news came that Molly was getting married. Years of suppressed love erupted, and Sean, in a frantic state, drove off to crash her wedding. On the way, he was distracted and collided with a truck, dying on impact. Now, reborn, the first thing he did was declare the love he never could before, hoping to soothe the regrets of his past life. I frowned. What the comments said did sound like my personality. But if he took so much of my money, and I even used my connections to help him start a company after graduation… what was wrong with him being a little more subservient to me? A little more obedient? Wasn’t that expected? Or did he really think he could have his cake and eat it too, and eventually swallow my family’s entire fortune? I let out a cold laugh and decisively tossed the black card to a random guy walking by. “Sean, who said I was going to sponsor you?” I announced, my voice clear and sharp. “The one I want to give it to is him.” I turned to the stunned guy. “Hey handsome, want to be my boyfriend?” 3 【Wait, what’s happening? Did I miss something? Why did she give the black card to someone else?】 【Dude, even if you take the card, it’s useless. The villainess only has eyes for the male lead. She’d never look at anyone else in this life.】 【It’s just a tactic. Playing hard to get. Pfft, the ML won’t fall for it.】 Sean froze. Freshly reborn, his eyes held a flicker of disbelief and confusion. It seemed he hadn’t realized that this life’s script was already deviating from the last. But with his true love right in front of him, and the shock of death and the joy of rebirth still overwhelming his mind, he didn’t dwell on it. I enthusiastically invited the handsome stranger to dinner. The semester had just started, so I didn’t recognize many faces. As for Sean, I’d only heard whispers from other students that he still hadn’t scraped together his tuition money. That’s why I’d kindly offered the card, intending to ask if he’d be my boyfriend. His chiseled face was exactly my type, enough to make my hormones get the better of me. Perhaps, in the last life, I truly did love Sean. But in this one, that love was snuffed out before it even had a chance to bloom. I had money. Endless amounts of it. I was the sole heiress to the Sterling fortune. A princess who had never been wronged in her life. Why would I waste my time on a lost cause? A relationship is a relationship, no matter who it’s with. And the handsome guy holding my black card now? He was totally my type, too. I chose the most expensive restaurant near campus. I frowned as I flipped through the menu, then tossed it to the waiter. “Bring us one of everything on your signature menu.” The waiter scurried away, beaming. Just then, the restaurant doors swung open, drawing everyone’s attention. I glanced over. It was the reborn male lead, with his beloved childhood sweetheart on his arm. 4 The Sean of the previous life had been well-nurtured by money. From his dining etiquette to his posture, he was flawless—the very picture of a wealthy young master. He kept glancing my way, the contempt and irritation in his eyes impossible to hide. He seemed convinced that I was only here to hit on him, that I was some kind of stalker he couldn’t shake. He was even more certain that my dining with another man was a pathetic attempt to make him jealous. Sean sat up straight, casually ordering seven or eight signature dishes from the menu. Then he turned to Molly with a look of deep affection. “Molly, the food here is just so-so. Please bear with it for now. When I have time, I’ll take you to taste the finest imported seafood. And then we’ll go to the luxury boutiques and get you all the latest season’s clothes.” Molly looked like she’d been hit in the face by a winning lottery ticket, nearly fainting from sheer luck. She shot me a smug glance and raised her voice. “Sean, darling, since this is the first day of our relationship, I have a gift I’ve been preparing for a long time.” Her face was aglow with pride. The comments said that Molly and Sean were childhood sweethearts, and they were just waiting until they got into the same university to confess their feelings. When I’d pulled out my black card, Molly had apparently been so angry she could have ground her teeth to dust. The way she looked at me now, you’d think I was the other woman. But when Sean agreed to be my boyfriend in the last life, he never mentioned Molly, did he? Molly mysteriously produced a simple, plain box. Sean’s face lit up with excitement. The comments were screaming. 【OMG, the main couple is so sweet in their first meeting after rebirth! Things are moving so fast!】 【I can’t even keep up with them!】 【What do you think is in the box? I remember in the last life, what Iris gave the ML was a famous watch worth over a million!】 【The female lead might not be as rich as the villainess now, but her gift must be full of heart.】 The box rested in her palm, feeling weightless. Sean opened it with great anticipation. Inside lay a small jar filled with handmade paper stars. Molly blinked. “Sean, darling, I folded these over the summer, just waiting for us to get into the same university so I could give them to you when I confessed. Every single strip of paper has ‘I love you’ written on it. Do you like it?” 5 The previously bustling comment section went silent. If I didn’t know Sean had been reborn, I might have thought he’d be touched by this gift. For an eighteen-year-old Sean, a jar of paper stars might have been a precious, heartfelt gesture. Tender and beautiful. But beneath his youthful exterior was the soul of a twenty-four-year-old man. A man who was used to gourmet food, who had seen countless luxury watches and cars, who took high-end gifts for granted. Just a few hours ago, the Sean who died in a car crash was driving a Maybach from my garage. The soft leather of the steering wheel and the rough-hewn wood of this cheap box were worlds apart. I smiled and took a watch box from my purse. I’d bought it on a whim while passing a luxury watch store earlier. Since this Eason Croft was now my boyfriend, I couldn’t be stingy. I pushed the exquisite watch box towards him. “Boyfriend, it’s our first day together, too. This is my gift to you. See if you like it.” 【Wait, wasn’t that the watch she gave the ML in the last life? Why is she giving it to someone else?】 【She’s definitely still playing hard to get, trying to get the ML’s attention. Trust me, she won’t last long.】 【Yep, the villainess is totally flustered. She’s lost her game plan.】 The watch gleamed under the lights. Eason, still reeling from the shock of the black card, was hit with another stunner. His hand trembled as he reached for the watch, but Sean’s roar stopped him. “Don’t touch it!” he yelled. “That’s clearly my—” He swallowed the rest of his words. I knew what he wanted to say. That watch is his. According to the comments, in his past life, he wore that watch for six years and adored it. Every night before bed, he would take it off, carefully polish it, and place it back in its box. But this life was different. He now had the company of his beloved childhood sweetheart. Surely, he had no interest in such vulgar, material things anymore. Molly’s face darkened, and she rolled her eyes at me. “So what if you’re rich? You reek of disgusting money. A heartless watch like that can’t compare to my stars, which are full of love. Right, Sean darling?” Sean snapped back to reality and forced a smile. “Molly’s right.” He gathered himself, about to serve his beloved some food, when his phone rang. It was a cheap burner phone with a terrible speaker. From a short distance away, I could clearly hear the cold female voice on the other end. “Mr. Miller, it’s time to pay your mother’s hospital bills.” 6 The color drained from Sean’s face. The comment section erupted in a panic. 【I almost forgot! The ML’s mother is seriously ill in the hospital, waiting for life-saving money!】 【I remember in the last life, the villainess just threw a million at the hospital, and the surgery went smoothly.】 【Oh god, no. The main couple just started their sweet romance. Is the villainess going to use his sick mom to blackmail him into being with her again?】 【Why is the villainess so persistent? She’s like a ghost!】 【Oh no, the villainess is looking at him. She must think this is her chance to make a move.】 I remembered hearing some students mention before I’d pulled out my card that Sean’s mother had been battling cancer for years, and his family had exhausted all their savings and was deep in debt. I quickly turned back to Eason. “No one in your family is sick, right?” “No, no, not at all…” Sean, his face ashen, stood up to leave for the hospital but was stopped by the waiter. “Sir, you haven’t paid the bill.” A wave of snickers went through the restaurant. In his past life, backed by my family’s wealth, he could walk into any high-end restaurant and be greeted by a fawning owner who would insist he not worry about the bill. His rebirth was too recent. He hadn’t broken his old habits. The waiter had already printed the bill. One thousand two hundred and eighty dollars. A sum that wouldn’t have even paid for half a bottle of wine in his previous life. Sean instinctively reached for his pocket, searching for the black card. He found nothing. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Right. He was eighteen again. Younger, yes, but also poorer. Right now, he was penniless. Forget one thousand two hundred and eighty dollars; he didn’t even have the eighty. The waiter maintained his professional smile. Sean gritted his teeth and turned to Molly, his voice strained. “Molly, can you cover this for now? I’ll pay you back.” 7 Molly immediately grew wary. “Sean, my monthly allowance is only fifteen hundred dollars. This one meal is twelve hundred. What am I supposed to live on for the rest of the month?” “Don’t worry, I have ways to make money.” “What ways? Besides, you said it was your treat. Why am I the one paying?” Molly grumbled, unwilling to pay. The young couple, who had confessed their love less than an hour ago, was now facing the first hurdle in their romance. I took out my card at the perfect moment and called out, “Waiter.” Sean turned his head away in disgust, as if I was about to latch onto him and refuse to let go. Reborn, he wanted nothing to do with a spoiled princess like me. The humiliation of me throwing money at him in his past life was still fresh in his mind. His voice was laced with deep revulsion. “Iris, how many times do I have to tell you? Can you just stay away from me? I hate you clinging to me, and I hate you getting between me and Molly. Neither I nor my mother need your filthy money!” I was genuinely surprised by his audacity. Even according to the bullet comments, where I was deeply in love with him, in this life, we hadn’t gotten together. The bullet comments had appeared just as I pulled out the card, before I could even ask him to be my boyfriend. He was the one who preemptively declared his love for Molly. Before that, we’d had no interaction whatsoever. He was the one who despised his past life. And yet, he was the one who couldn’t seem to let it go. I let out a cold laugh. “I was just calling the waiter to pay my own bill.” “Mr. Miller,” I said, my voice dripping with mock concern. “Are you suffering from some sort of delusion? Why are you so convinced I’m chasing you?” 8 Sean’s face went white. He was only now realizing that in this life, we were essentially strangers. The six years of entanglement from his past had yet to happen. The realization made him stagger back a step. The comments grew anxious. 【What’s going on? Why isn’t the villainess paying for Sean’s mom’s treatment?】 【Yeah, his mom has cancer. If she doesn’t pay, how is he going to get that astronomical sum of money?】 【His mom was the only person who comforted him during those six years of humiliating life.】 Reading those comments, my face darkened. They called the six years I supported him a “humiliating life.” An unbearable memory for him. In my past life, after I paid for his mother’s treatment, her private advice to him was: “Sean, honey, you can’t let a woman walk all over you. Listen to Mom, you have to control the money. Make her live by your rules! My son is so outstanding, a university student, girls would line up to be with you. The Sterlings only have one daughter. Sooner or later, their money will be ours, right?” And Sean had nodded obediently through it all, enduring his “humiliation.” Too bad for them, the Sterling family’s vast fortune wasn’t something an outsider like him could ever touch. All he ever got was the pocket change that fell through my fingers. If he was obedient, I’d give him a little. If he wasn’t, he got nothing. A girl from my background wasn’t stupid enough to just hand over her family’s wealth. Sean coveted everything my family had, but it was always out of his reach. Eason couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mr. Miller, aren’t you the one who’s been bothering Iris? She hasn’t even spoken to you, yet you keep acting like you’re some kind of victim. It’s ridiculous.” Sean’s face clouded over, his tone impatient. “You, Croft. You’re just some country bumpkin. Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?” 9 His voice was low and deep, like a domineering CEO, infused with a touch of money-bred arrogance. In his past life, after his company took off, countless people had flattered him, calling him Mr. Miller. All that praise had gone to his head. But Sean hadn’t noticed. The clothes he was wearing right now were shabbier than Eason’s. I raised an eyebrow and clapped my hands. “Mr. Miller is right.” Eason looked at me, hurt. I looked Eason up and down. His clothes were ordinary and cheap. Dressed like that, didn’t he look just like a country bumpkin? I frowned and waved a hand, unleashing my inner princess. “These rags are so shabby, I wouldn’t even wear them as a gift. Eason, you’re coming with me to the mall right now, and you’re not leaving until you’ve bought at least a hundred thousand dollars worth of clothes!” 10 Walking out of the mall with several shopping bags, Eason was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t seem to process what had just happened. I lazily flicked my hair over my shoulder. My boyfriend, naturally, had to wear the best. Everything I gave Sean in the last life, I wouldn’t give him a single cent of in this one. The bullet comments were still chattering about Sean’s situation. He was currently being tormented by his lack of money. Tuition, living expenses, his mother’s medical bills. If Molly was his only regret in the last life, then in this one, after fixing that single regret, he had created twenty new ones. On the way back to the university, I enjoyed reading the comments. 【ML, don’t go to her! You’ll be entangled with her for years again! I want to see your sweet romance with the FL!】 【The poor ML. He’s going to be forced back to the villainess’s side.】 【Who can stand the villainess’s spoiled attitude?】 【Ugh, does being reborn not even help you escape the evil villainess’s control?】 Scrolling down, I saw it. As expected, standing in front of my dorm was the solitary, proud figure of Sean. He looked like he’d been waiting for a long time. When he saw me, he first gave a desolate smile, then seemed to resign himself to his fate. “Iris, I lose. I can’t escape you after all.” “Fine,” he said, as if making a great sacrifice. “As long as you give me the black card and promise to tone down your princess attitude, I’m willing to be your boyfriend.” 11 He spoke with an air of utter defeat, as if he’d made a monumental decision and a huge concession. His face was a mask of humiliation and shame. His dignity was really something. To think it was worth as much as my unlimited black card. I smirked. I’d never seen someone beg for scraps so arrogantly. I couldn’t help but remind him, “Mr. Miller, have we met?” Sean scoffed. “Iris, no one knows you better than I do. Did you think this little game of playing hard to get would make me look at you twice? Alright, enough. Just give me the black card. My mom is in the hospital waiting.” He was so certain. So sure that I would give in to him. In our past life, we were together for six years. If it wasn’t for love, I probably wouldn’t have lasted that long. He had seen me crazy in love. He had seen my grand, public displays of affection. As the one being pursued, he had always been fearless. His mother’s hospital bills couldn’t wait any longer. A pile of problems was waiting for him to solve with money. Eason decisively stepped in front of me, shattering Sean’s arrogance. “When did Iris ever say she wanted you to be her boyfriend?” 12 That last sentence hit Sean like a bolt of lightning. He stood frozen for a long moment, then suddenly remembered something. The first thing he had done upon being reborn was confess to Molly. As for me, I really hadn’t said a word about him being my boyfriend. The entanglements of our past life had yet to occur in this one. But Sean quickly shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. The six years of their past relationship were too deeply ingrained in his memory. Event after event, he simply couldn’t believe that I hadn’t loved him. He sighed, his voice heavy with an exhaustion he couldn’t hide. “Alright, Iris, I admit my confessing to Molly made you unhappy. But my mother’s situation can’t wait. Give me the card, and I’ll let the past go.” Seeing Sean’s dejected surrender, the comments grew frantic. 【The ML was finally reborn! Why is he getting entangled with the villainess again?】 【And so begins the six years of humiliating life.】 【But without the villainess, the ML is just a poor student. He wouldn’t even have startup capital for a business. How would he get money?】 I looked at Sean. My words were a reply to him, and to the comments. “If you don’t have money, figure it out yourself. If you’re not willing to sell a kidney, you’ve still got other assets, haven’t you?”

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I’m broke. Dead broke. So I was looking for the cheapest place I could possibly rent. The realtor, practically spraying spit with enthusiasm, laid out the discounts: “An apartment gets you 10% off. A walk-up, 20% off. Old building? 50% off. Scene of a grisly murder? 70% off. Victim died a particularly nasty death? 90% off.” I nodded so hard my head nearly fell off. “Got anything that’s an old walk-up apartment where the previous owner died a spectacularly gruesome death?” And that’s how I moved into my new place. My rent is three thousand dollars a month. Paid to me. By the realtor. The first night, the bathroom faucet started gushing all on its own. The dim bedroom light flickered on and off, like a dying firefly. I’d had enough. I shot up and yelled at the shadowy figure lurking in the corner. “The landlord bills us at commercial rates! That’s over a buck a kilowatt-hour for electricity!” “And water is five-fifty a ton!” “You gonna pay for that?!” 1 The gushing faucet went silent. The bedroom light stayed off. With nothing but the sheer, unadulterated force of my broke-ness, I had successfully subdued the vengeful spirit haunting my apartment. Silence returned. I curled up on the large, soft bed, feigning sleep, but a pang of guilt pricked my conscience. The ghost, after all, had been living here just fine. I was the intruder. All the spooky stuff was just his way of trying to get me to leave. I clutched my phone, its screen glowing with the three thousand dollars the realtor had just transferred me. A shaky voice message from him followed: [Miss Reed, that place is seriously haunted. If you feel anything… off… just run!] A vengeful spirit? Was he really scarier than a penniless ghoul like me? I scoffed. A place that paid me to live in it? I was staying for the long haul. Just as I was about to say something to break the heavy silence, I felt a shadowy form loom over my head. My eyes flew open. A face, slick with blood, hovered directly above mine. A gaping, bloody crater marred his forehead, as if someone had caved his skull in with a blunt object. He was barely an inch from my face. I could feel strands of his hair, damp and sticky, brushing against my cheek. Through the thick curtain of blood, the spirit’s lips stretched into a horrifying grin. A scream tore from my throat, loud enough to shatter the night… “Ahhh—!” The spirit, convinced he’d finally terrified me, looked triumphant, smug even. I lunged, grabbing a handful of his hair. “If you can touch me, that means you can touch my unfinished project proposal, right?” “Look, you’re not doing anything tonight anyway. Why don’t you finish this up for me? It’s due to my boss tomorrow.” “You’re a ghost. You don’t need light to see.” “And remember—don’t turn on any lights while you work. Save electricity!” The spirit’s grin froze on his blood-streaked face. After a long, stunned silence, a pleasant, youthful voice drifted through the dark. “You have no shame. You’d even exploit a ghost.” 2 Hey, a broke ghoul is still a ghoul. We’re all in the same boat. The only difference is that I spend my days slaving away for a paycheck, while he can only bounce around the apartment after the sun sets and the city is cloaked in darkness. I slept like a baby. The next morning, when I pried my sleepy eyes open, the spirit was gone. My project proposal was sitting on the desk, neatly stacked. The pages were filled with elegant, handwritten script. I praised the empty air. “You’re the best, buddy! From now on, all my unfinished work is yours.” The air in front of me seemed to shimmer for a second. The closet door creaked open, then slammed shut, as if someone I couldn’t see had just hidden inside. Humming a tune, I packed up the proposal. I’d just hopped on my e-bike to head to the subway when the realtor called. His voice was trembling even more than before. “Miss Reed… you’re… you’re still alive?” My face fell. “What, are you regretting that three-thousand-a-month deal already? We had an agreement. As long as I’m living here, you pay me. On time.” “It’s not about the money!” he stammered. “I couldn’t sleep all night. My conscience is killing me. Miss Reed, please, listen to me. You have to move out.” “That apartment is the scene of a murder. The last tenant died horribly. He was full of resentment, and they still haven’t caught the killer!” 3 The realtor spammed my phone with links to news articles. I vaguely remembered hearing about the sensational murder case. A young tenant, with no known enemies, was found brutally killed in his apartment. The security footage was too blurry to identify the culprit, leaving the police with no leads. After the horrific incident, the once-bustling apartment building emptied out within a week. My eyes scanned across the victim’s name. Danny Osmond. Twenty-three years old, just a year out of college. He should have been in the prime of his life, but instead, he became another statistic in a cold case file. Below the dense text was a slightly blurry photo. In it, a young man was grinning at the camera, a flash of pearly white teeth. It was a loving smile, as if he was looking at the person he adored most in the world, the one holding the camera. The man in the photo had a sharp jawline and gentle eyes. He looked exactly like the vengeful spirit I’d seen last night. I closed the news articles and sent the realtor a voice message. [Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just remember to send the three thousand on time every month.] He was a vengeful spirit. I was a penniless ghoul. We were practically family. What was there to be afraid of? He was full of resentment? You think I, a corporate drone, am a little ray of sunshine? My resentment is off the charts, thank you very much. Besides, with him around to do my work, I could cut back on my overtime. The apartment was a long way from my office. The commute home—shared bike to the subway, then subway to my e-bike—took a solid two and a half hours. In the sweltering summer heat, the slightest movement left me drenched in a sticky sweat, my clothes clinging to my skin. By the time I reached the apartment building, it was pitch black. The dark tower loomed like a giant beast in the suburbs, ready to swallow me whole. The building had been neglected since the murder; the elevator had long since stopped working. I began the slow climb up the stairs. In the empty stairwell, the only sound was the echoing clack-clack of my high heels. My apartment was on the sixth floor. After what felt like an eternity of climbing, I looked up, exhausted, at the faint green glow of the floor number. — 4 — I’d climbed so many flights, but I was still on the fourth floor. It was a ghost loop. 4 The high heels were rubbing my ankles raw. I kicked them off, grabbed one by its three-inch stiletto heel, and hurled it at the flickering light on the landing. “I’ve been slaving away at the office all day, and right now, my resentment levels are higher than a thousand-year-old demon’s!” “If you don’t let me go home, I’m going to find your ashes, mix them with gunpowder, strap them to a skyrocket, and whoosh! You’ll be scattered all over Ashton!” The words were barely out of my mouth when the distorted air around me snapped back to normal. Barefoot and carrying my heels, I climbed two more flights. Finally, I was standing in front of apartment 608. I pushed the door open. Danny, his head still a gruesome mess, shot me an eye-roll and continued to float aimlessly around the living room. Why did he get to be so idle? I couldn’t stand to see him doing nothing. I chucked a pile of documents from my bag straight at his hovering form. “Have you got no sense? I get home, and you can’t even be bothered to make dinner or clean up a little?” Danny huffed, his voice indignant. “Ghosts can’t use an open flame.” “So you can’t use the rice cooker?” “Did you buy a rice cooker and rice for me to cook?” “Can’t you go to the store and get them yourself? It’s not like you have to pay! Just grab them and run. Besides a priest, who’s gonna catch you?” Defeated, Danny grumbled a few more times before turning his back on me completely, leaving me with a view of his proud, sulking silhouette. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of spaghetti, and quickly boiled some for myself. The moment the steaming pasta was ready, I started shoveling it into my mouth. At some point, Danny had drifted silently closer. This time, he wasn’t trying to scare me. His eyes were fixed on the spaghetti, a look of intense craving on his face. Feeling generous, I pushed the bowl towards him. “Want some?” 5 Danny’s head drooped. “I can’t eat. I’m a ghost.” “I don’t feel hungry,” he mumbled, “but watching you eat… it looks so good. It makes me hungry… I haven’t tasted food in so, so long.” Danny was trapped in this small apartment. He couldn’t go out. He couldn’t see the sun. Even the simple, lifelong habit of eating three meals a day was gone. He couldn’t taste anything—not sweet, not sour, not salty, not bitter. He couldn’t even smell. I sighed. We were both ghouls, but right now, the vengeful spirit seemed a lot more pitiful than the penniless one. My tone softened. “Do you remember what your favorite food was when you were… alive? I’ll buy it for you after work tomorrow. You might not be able to eat it, but you can look at it. Touch it.” He happily touched the mangled part of his skull, trying to remember. “I don’t recall much from before… but I think… I think I liked durian.” Of course. The most expensive thing on the menu. I glanced at my bank balance. Three thousand and fifty dollars. If it weren’t for the realtor’s payment, I wouldn’t even be able to afford spaghetti. My anger flared. “You had to pick the priciest thing, didn’t you?” “Fine. You finish the rest of my work tonight, and I’ll reward you with a durian to touch tomorrow.” 6 In the most bizarre way imaginable, Danny and I began to live together. The apartment was a one-bedroom. I slept in the bedroom, he floated in the living room. After my shower one evening, I walked through the living room in my thin pajamas. He covered his eyes. “Could you please wear something… more?” It was scorching hot, and since the building used commercial electricity, I couldn’t afford to run the AC constantly. I moved closer to him. His ghostly presence was like a personal cooling unit. The air around him was heavy and cold. We were too close. The only sound was my own breathing. Even though Danny was a ghost, his face pale and bloodless, I could have sworn he was blushing. His hands and feet seemed to fidget, not knowing where to put themselves. “Wh-what are you doing so close to me…?” he stammered. “Aren’t you afraid of me? I died a horrible death. Everyone who’s seen me has screamed in terror.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “But you… you don’t seem scared. In fact, from the moment we met, I haven’t seen a trace of fear in your eyes.” I stared at his high-bridged nose and the sharp line of his jaw. If his forehead weren’t smashed in, Danny would have been incredibly handsome. I forced a smile, leaning in even closer, treating him like a human refrigerator. “What’s there to be afraid of? A handsome guy like you is worth three thousand dollars a month! Thanks to you, as long as I live here, the realtor pays me to stay.” “You know, I slave away at my nine-to-five, work all the overtime, and my boss only pays me five thousand a month.” Danny shot me a disdainful look. “I don’t get it. You work so hard, and you make decent money. Why are you so broke you have to live in a murder house for an extra three grand?” “Do you want to touch that durian or not?” “Yes…” “Then shut up and get back to work!” Reluctantly, Danny picked up my work files and started frowning at them in the dark. Being a ghost had its perks. Saved a ton on electricity. 7 To coax Danny into doing my overtime, I begrudgingly spent a hundred and twenty dollars on a durian. On a sweltering evening, I parked my e-bike under the apartment building and stepped into the fire escape stairwell. Just as the heavy fire door was swinging shut, a greasy, overweight figure squeezed in behind me. This building had been empty for a long time. It was supposed to be a dark, silent monolith. But the light I left on every night was like a tiny pearl, a beacon announcing that someone had moved in. I’d only been here three days, and I already had a stalker. His heavy, labored breathing followed me up the stairs. His sticky, greedy eyes felt like a razor scraping across my skin, examining every inch of me. He knew the building was empty, so he kept his distance, always half a flight of stairs behind me, unhurried. Every so often, he’d look up at me, a predator sizing up its cornered prey. My palms were slick with nervous sweat. I quickened my pace. Suddenly, the thought of Danny and his mangled head seemed almost comforting compared to the man following me. I scrambled up to the sixth floor, my hand trembling as I fumbled for my keys. The stalker finally made his move. He closed the distance in a few quick strides and wrapped a thick arm around my waist. “Hey there, beautiful. I’ve been watching you for a few days.” “You’ve got guts, you know that? This whole building is empty, and you dare to live here all alone.” “It’s just the two of us here tonight. I’m gonna keep you real good company.” I swallowed hard, acutely aware of the power difference. I had to stay calm. I tried to find an excuse to make him back off. “Who said I live alone? I live here with my boyfriend.” The greasy man roared with laughter. “You must not know. There was a murder here three months ago. Everyone moved out that same month. I’ve been watching. You’re the only one here.” “Boyfriend? If you really have one, tell him to come out. I’d love to meet him.” My key hadn’t even touched the lock.

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The night before our new song was supposed to drop, I disappeared, taking the final lyric sheet with me. Ron blew up my phone—nine hundred and ninety-nine missed calls. “We were supposed to get married after this song was released,” his last voicemail raged. “What the hell are you doing, Celine?” “Someone saw our lyrics posted on a European forum. Are you trying to dump me?” He didn’t know. He didn’t know that I’d accidentally killed a man while trying to save someone, and that I was in prison. He didn’t know that my eardrums had been punctured, that I was deaf. I used sign language to beg a guard to send a text for me. I’m tired of you dragging me down. I’m going solo. 1 The next time I saw Ron, he was the hotshot CEO of a record label. It was just after the holidays, and the temple was swarming with worshippers praying for a prosperous new year. A VIP had arrived to make a donation, and I quickly threw on my yellow volunteer vest to help out. I’d been out of prison for two months. No one would hire an ex-convict. The temple’s abbot had taken pity on me, offering me a volunteer position—room, board, and a small stipend of five hundred dollars a month. If I saved up, I could afford a better cochlear implant. I looked up and saw him. Ron. He hadn’t changed. He looked exactly like the man I had loved so deeply, a perfect overlay of memory and reality. “This place is so smoky and gross. Let’s just donate the money and leave,” the girl beside him complained, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Didn’t you say you wanted your new album to be a hit?” Ron tapped her nose affectionately. “These are the rules of the business, a little superstition for good luck. Don’t blame bad timing later.” His voice was patient, gentle. His eyes were practically glued to her. “Fine,” she huffed. “Then let’s just get this over with.” She turned to me. “We need three incense sticks… Hey, are you listening to me? Are you deaf?” It wasn’t until her voice rose in irritation that I noticed the anger in her eyes. I quickly grabbed the incense sticks, lit them, and handed them over. Ron never even glanced in my direction. Was it because I looked so different now that he didn’t recognize me? Or was it because he wanted nothing to do with the woman who had betrayed him? “Ah!” A sharp scream, followed by a stinging slap across my face that sent me stumbling to the ground. “Are you trying to burn me?” the girl cried, clutching the back of her hand, her eyes red. I scrambled to pick up my old, battered cochlear implant and put it back on, bowing repeatedly in apology. “It hurts,” she whimpered, leaning into Ron’s arms. “I have a photoshoot tomorrow. What if it leaves a scar?” Ron’s face was etched with concern. He held her hand, gently blowing on the red mark. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll put my special scar cream on it when we get home. And if it really does scar, we’ll get a tattoo to cover it up. I’ll get one with you.” He rolled up his sleeve and patted his forearm. The spot where my name, “Celine,” had once been tattooed was now a blank canvas. I remembered the time I’d cut my arm on a piece of glass. The doctor said the wound was deep and might scar. Ron, knowing how much I loved wearing sleeveless tops in the summer, had researched ancient remedies and concocted his own scar-healing paste. Even with him applying it every night, a faint scar remained. To make me feel better, he’d had my name tattooed on his arm, and I’d had his, “Ron,” tattooed on mine. Now, the last trace of me was gone. The special treatment that had once been mine alone now belonged to someone else. I clutched the singed sleeve of my vest, trying to hide my own tattoo. The implant seemed to be malfunctioning again. I could see their lips moving, but the sound was muffled and distant. I kept tapping it, trying to get it to work. “I’m talking to you!” The girl shoved me hard. “You think a simple ‘sorry’ is enough? What kind of volunteer listens to music on their headphones during work?” Ron shot me a look—cold, unfamiliar. The abbot rushed over to intervene, but I stopped him. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing deeply again. “If it will make you feel better, you can burn me back.” I held out my bare arm, the one without the tattoo, and stood tall. “Forget it,” Ron said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “No need to waste time on insignificant people. It wouldn’t be good if the press saw this.” He whispered something in her ear, and she immediately blushed, her tears turning into a smile. “Okay, I’ll wait for you in the car.” Her glare at me had softened considerably. Ron pulled out his checkbook. “Abbot, you know that Starfire Entertainment is your most generous donor each year.” “I hope you’ll be more careful when selecting volunteers in the future. We can’t have people who don’t take their jobs seriously slacking off here, understand?” The abbot looked at me, conflicted, but finally nodded. I finally understood the look in Ron’s eyes. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even hate. It was a deep, unforgivable disgust. This was the same Ron who, if he tripped and fell, would just brush himself off and say he was fine. He hated me this much. And wasn’t that exactly what I had hoped for when I made my decision five years ago? Celine, you’re just a deaf ex-convict. What are you still hoping for? 2 The kind abbot let me stay in the dorm until a new volunteer arrived. I started packing my things. Two blocks from the dorm was the dark alley where my life had changed forever five years ago. It all started when I met Ron. We met in a bar, kindred spirits with guitars on our backs, chasing a dream in the big city. He played keyboard and composed; I played guitar and wrote lyrics. After countless rejections from record labels and failed music competitions, we spent a year polishing a song that we knew was a masterpiece. A producer friend told us it had massive potential. Ron promised me that no matter how the song did, we would get married the day it was released. That night, I was heading back to our studio with the final lyric sheet. As I passed the alley, I heard a faint cry for help. I recognized it immediately—it was the unique way Ron’s sister, Cora, who had autism, expressed distress. I grabbed an iron rod from a nearby construction site and rushed in. “Let her go! Or I’m calling the police!” Cora’s clothes were torn. She looked at me with pleading eyes. “Well, look what we have here,” one of the two burly men sneered. “One for each of us.” I was outnumbered. I could only shield Cora with my body. As they lunged at me, I swung the iron rod wildly. Suddenly, a scream. One of the men had slipped on the wet pavement. The iron rod pierced his chest. Blood gushed out. Seeing their friend dying, the other man fled. Cora, exhausted, collapsed. Her mother, alerted by a panic button on Cora’s phone, arrived before the police. She knelt before me. “Celine, I know you’re a good girl.” “Cora’s life is already so difficult with her autism. If her reputation is ruined by this, she’s finished.” “I’ll take her away. When the police come, please, don’t mention she was here.” Ron and Cora had lost their father when they were young, raised by their mother alone. She was right. Cora’s emotional state was too fragile for a trial. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I had acted in self-defense. The man had slipped. I never imagined the man I’d accidentally killed was the son of a powerful city tycoon. His family used their influence to send me to prison. On the first day, they paid other inmates to puncture my eardrums. When I woke up in the prison infirmary, a guard handed me my phone. 326 missed calls from Ron. A flood of messages. One was a voicemail from his mother. “Celine, I’m so sorry. I can’t let Cora testify. We can’t afford to cross that family. I hope you can forgive me.” “As for Ron, I told him a lie to protect him.” “If he knew the truth, with his personality, he’d blow this whole thing up. I hope you’ll be the one to break up with him.” “If you want compensation, I’ll sell everything I have to pay you back… I just want my children to live happy, peaceful lives.” I touched the bandages on my ears. The doctor said the damage was severe, my hearing reduced to just 5%. I would need to wear a cochlear implant for the rest of my life. The beautiful sounds of the world were lost to me forever. How could a person like me chase a music dream with Ron? So, I asked the guard to send that text. I became the betrayer, the villain in his story, and disappeared from his life. After that, I served my time quietly. I heard Ron left the city not long after. Five years later, he was back. He was the CEO of a record label. I was a pariah. I never expected to see him again at a production company. A company had finally expressed interest in my lyrics. I went for an interview with my portfolio. After a long wait in the reception area, the door opened. A familiar face. It was Evan, a friend who had chased the same dream with us back in the day. “Well, well, if it isn’t the famous plagiarist, Celine. Did you steal this new set of lyrics from some other poor sucker?” He smirked. “Ron, you’re just in time. Come give me your expert opinion.” 3 “Evan, who’s here?” A couple walked out of the recording studio, arm in arm. When Ron saw me, he froze. “Aren’t you the girl from the temple…?” The new girl, whose name I learned was Wendy, frowned. Evan smiled at me. “Let me introduce you. This is Wendy, Starfire Entertainment’s newest rising star, and also Ron’s current girlfriend.” “As for this one…” he said with a meaningful look, “this is Ron’s old partner, the notoriously shameless plagiarist, Celine.” Plagiarist. The word hit me like a sledgehammer. I looked up and saw the mocking smile on Ron’s face. “So it was you.” Wendy scoffed. “So you’re the reason Ron was in such a slump… If I’d known, I would have slapped you a few more times at the temple!” “The temple?” Evan sneered. “Have you had a change of heart, Celine? Thinking of becoming a nun to atone for your sins?” “No, I was just volunteering there…” Before I could finish, Wendy’s hand flew towards my face. Ron grabbed her wrist, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. “Don’t stop me! I’m going to teach her a lesson for you!” She was furious. As I bent down to pick up my dropped implant, she brought her foot down on it. “Still listening to music? Is it that song you stole?” Wendy lifted her foot and ground my last shred of dignity into the floor. The implant shattered into pieces under her heel. Ron watched with detached amusement, not saying a word to stop her. Then, he suddenly bent down and took Wendy’s foot in his hands. “Does it hurt?” he asked, brushing the plastic shards away with disgust. “Why get so worked up over someone like this? She’s not worth it.” Someone like this. Yes. I was a plagiarist, an ex-convict, and deaf. My implant was destroyed, but I didn’t need my ears to hear the overflowing affection in Ron’s voice. After five years of being deaf, I had learned to read lips. “It doesn’t hurt… It’s just a shame about the shoes. You had them custom-made for me overseas…” Wendy pouted. “It’s fine. I’ll just order you another pair.” Ron picked up the broken heel and tossed it into the trash can. He swept Wendy up into his arms and walked away without a backward glance. I stared at the trash can. I wondered how many cochlear implants that one pair of shoes could buy. Evan threw my portfolio at my feet. “A small studio like ours can’t afford to work with a big-shot plagiarist like you. Take your things and get out. And stop showing your face around Ron.” I bent down and gathered the scattered pieces of my pride. The implant was broken beyond repair, just like my place in Ron’s heart. He hated me that much. With a soft sigh and a bitter smile, I stepped into the elevator. A hand shot out and blocked the doors. Ron cornered me, his eyes sharp and cold. “Can’t take it already?” I turned my face away. “I thought you were so tough,” he sneered. “Taking our love song and running to your sugar daddy… Did he not take good care of you? Why are you out here looking for work?” “Yeah, he got tired of me and threw me out,” I said, lifting my chin and forcing a smile. “So I’m very broke right now. Are you satisfied with that answer, Mr. Hayes?” Ron’s lips thinned, his gaze darkening. “How about you give me some money? Consider it payment for the three years I spent chasing your dream with you… I’ll do whatever you want. Including my body…” I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my chest. He snatched it back as if he’d been burned. “Shameless!” His breathing was ragged. He turned his face away, his hand trembling. “I wouldn’t touch a body that dirty.” “Tomorrow morning, 8 a.m. The Barley Bar. We need a guitarist for the new song launch party. Five thousand for the night. Are you in?” “I’m in.” 4 I arrived at The Barley Bar at 7:30, half an hour early. The decor was exactly the same as the place where Ron and I had first met. From the neon sign outside to the banner hanging over the stage. Starfire Entertainment – Wendy’s New Song Launch Party. My implant was still broken, but I put the pieces in my ear anyway, hoping for the best. They handed me a guitar. Wendy sang all eight songs from her new album. In the audience, Ron watched her, his eyes filled with a soft, lingering affection. Finally, we reached the last page of the songbook. I was exhausted. I just wanted this nightmare to be over so I could get my five thousand dollars and buy a new implant. Every breath I took in this place reminded me of the time I had spent with Ron. Every night at 8 p.m., we would play here. When there was no audience, we were each other’s cheerleaders. The rest of the time, we were crammed into a tiny 150-square-foot room, listening to the couple next door fight, surviving on instant noodles. I sold that lyric sheet and bought a cochlear implant. The thought was a bitter pill. I’d been alone my whole life, an orphan with no one to rely on until I met Ron. Suddenly, a new sheet of music was placed in front of me. I recognized it instantly. It was our song. The one we never released. The copyright was still in Ron’s name. Before I could react, he was walking onto the stage. “To all the media and fans, tonight, I have a gift for Wendy.” “And I’ve brought my family here to witness it.” I followed his gaze to the left side of the stage. My eyes met Cora’s. She smiled and waved at me, but her mother quickly pulled her hand down. “Musicians, if you please.” Ron turned his back to the audience and nodded at me. “I want to dedicate this song to the love of my life.” He raised the microphone. I had played this song a million times. My fingers found the chords on the guitar, moving with a practiced ease that didn’t require hearing. Even without the lyrics, I could feel the dense, sweet affection flowing between them. The song ended. The applause was thunderous. I stood up, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Family, let’s give them our best wishes!” Evan shouted, leading the cheer. “I’ll produce all the music for your wedding and your first kid’s birthday party, how’s that for a deal?” Ron’s mother slipped a jade bracelet from her wrist onto Wendy’s. Cora looked at me, then took a barrette from her hair and gave it to them. Everyone gave their most precious possessions to Ron and Wendy as blessings. Finally, it was just me. Ron and Wendy stood there, their fingers intertwined, smiling at me. I took the broken implant out of my ear and placed it in his palm. After five years in prison, I had nothing left to give. The person I had cherished most, I had pushed away myself. My ears were deaf, my dreams were shattered. And Ron was finally going to be someone else’s husband. I looked up and managed a smile. The tightly wound string in my mind snapped. The roaring in my head finally ceased. I couldn’t hear anything at all anymore. “Congratulations,” I mouthed, my eyes downcast. “If you still need a guitarist for the wedding, I can do it for free.” I saw a flash of surprise in Ron’s eyes. I bowed deeply. “Thank you for the performance fee, sir.” I turned and walked away, my head held high under the scrutiny of the crowd. My phone buzzed with a transfer notification. In my peripheral vision, I saw Cora pull away from her mother and rush onto the stage, whispering something in Ron’s ear. I hailed a cab. Suddenly, I heard a man’s roar from inside the bar. “This isn’t a goddamn hearing aid?” “Cora, say that again? Who did you say had their ears punctured in prison?”

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To save the world’s brooding, future supervillain, I tried everything. I tried being his girlfriend; he dumped me in a week. I tried being his private tutor; he fired me for no reason. I tried being his stepmother; he had me thrown out of the house. For my final chance, I cashed in all my points with the System for a “Bloodline Alteration Pill.” I regressed my body and mind to that of a three-year-old. Then, at the most critical moment of his arcade game, I rushed forward, hugged his leg, and yelled, “Daddy!” His body shuddered. He lost the game. His delinquent friends erupted in laughter. “Whoa, Ryder, man! When did this happen? Your kid’s already this big?” Ryder, still in his high school uniform, roared back, his voice echoing through the arcade. “I just turned eighteen! I’m still a virgin!” 1 Ryder’s shout was so loud that everyone turned to stare. His best friend, Leo, froze. He quickly clapped his hands over my ears. “Dude, kid’s right here!” Ryder glared down at me, his eyes radiating a glacial chill. “What kid? I don’t know her!” He tried to shake his leg. “Let go, kid!” I just hugged him tighter, pressing my cheek against the denim of his jeans, pretending I couldn’t hear a thing. Suddenly, strange text floated in my vision. I couldn’t read the words, but luckily, an AI voice read them aloud for me. [The villain is just a kid himself. How’s he supposed to raise a kid? This mission is doomed.] [This Operator has really tried, though. Attempt #1: Girlfriend. He claimed he was allergic to women and broke up with her.] [Attempt #2: Tutor. The villain said she brought bad luck by entering the room with her left foot first. Fired.] [Attempt #3: Stepmother. He told his dad she was cursed and would kill him. His dad is… superstitious.] [If this attempt fails, the Operator will be erased, right? Then the villain will go dark, and the world will be destroyed.] I didn’t understand any of that. But it didn’t matter. I’d found my daddy! Ryder’s face grew darker and darker until he finally just kicked me away. I rolled across the floor like a little ball. Pain flared across my body, and I could already feel bruises forming. Why was Daddy being so mean? I stared at him, stunned. Leo gasped. “Ryder! What if she starts crying?” Ryder sneered. “Not my damn problem. I don’t even—” “Daddy.” I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain, and ran back to hug him again. “What the f—” He caught himself, a vein throbbing on his temple. “Why are you so damn clingy?” He stared at me. I stared back at him. The air in the arcade turned strangely silent. One of his buddies spoke up. “You know, Ryder… she actually looks a lot like you.” Leo picked up something that had fallen out of my pocket. He stared at it for a long, silent moment. He patted Ryder, who was still fuming, on the shoulder. “Dude,” Leo said slowly. “When… when exactly did you make this mistake?” Ryder’s eye twitched. He snatched the paper from Leo’s hand. A DNA test. Paternity confirmed. Father-daughter relationship. His anger was so extreme it looped back around into a twisted smile. He crouched down, pinching my cheeks between his fingers. “Alright, kid, tell me. Who sent you? Who faked this test? What’s your goal here?” His voice was a low growl. “Don’t you think I’d know if I’d ever been with a woman? I had a girlfriend once, but I never even held her hand!” His grip was strong, and my face hurt. He’d already kicked me; why was he still being so mean? A wave of injustice washed over me. My eyes welled up, but I bit my lip and held back the tears. “You are Fifi’s daddy!” A storm was brewing in Ryder’s eyes. He let go of my face, and my cheeks bounced back into place. The sudden release made me lose my balance, and I plopped back onto the floor. Ryder’s scowl almost broke into a laugh. He coughed a few times to cover it up. “Call the cops,” he said flatly. “Maybe she’s my dad’s illegitimate kid. He can deal with her.” An hour later, Ryder walked out of the police station with me in tow. His face was a mask of pure despair. “She’s really my kid?” “Holy shit!” 2 I tilted my head, confused. The text appeared again. [Fifi is adorable, but it’s a shame this mission is destined to fail.] [In three days, the villain’s father is going to bring home his mistress and their illegitimate son. The mistress will constantly bad-mouth the villain. Feeling misunderstood and unloved, the villain will go street racing, get into an accident, and have his leg amputated.] [After that, his personality will darken. The mistress will deliberately introduce him to drugs. He’ll completely break down when he learns his mother has remarried.] [He’ll lose everything. His friends will betray him. He’ll meet the story’s heroine, his one ray of light, but she’ll end up giving all his company secrets to the hero.] [That’s when the villain will snap. He’ll kidnap the heroine. The hero, his father, and the mistress will all die horrible deaths. He’ll even kidnap his mother’s new child… After getting revenge on everyone who ever hurt him, he’ll jump off a building.] I didn’t understand, so I ignored it. I instinctively hugged Ryder’s leg, becoming his personal ankle-warmer again. “So, what’s the plan, man?” Leo asked. Ryder looked like he’d aged ten years. He, a teenager, was already radiating exhausted dad energy. He ran a hand through his hair, reflexively wanting to shake me off but stopping himself. “Whatever happens,” he muttered, “my dad can’t find out about this.” He lifted me onto a nearby planter. “Do you have a name? Who’s your mom?” My stomach rumbled loudly. I gave him an embarrassed little smile, interrupting his interrogation. “Hehe, Fifi’s hungry.” Half an hour later, a scowling Ryder led me into a McDonald’s. I grabbed an icy Coke, but he snatched it away, frowning. “You’re having a Happy Meal. Kids can’t drink Coke.” Kids? I remembered the text. Daddy was a kid, too! Ryder took a big gulp of the Coke. Before he could swallow, I reached up and squeezed his cheeks. Hard. PFFFT— Coke sprayed all over my face. I beamed at him. “Daddy, you’re a kid, too! You can’t drink it!” Ryder’s jaw clenched. He looked at me, drenched and sticky, and took a deep, steadying breath. And another. Finally, he covered my ears and whispered one word. “Fuck.” [Wait, how did this tragedy turn into a comedy? I’m dying!] [And it seems like the villain has already accepted he has a daughter. This move was brilliant! Way better than being his girlfriend.] [Let’s just wait and see. I refuse to believe someone as rotten as the villain can take care of a child.] Whatever the text said, Ryder, despite his obsessive cleanliness, took a wet wipe and started scrubbing my face. It wasn’t working. The sticky residue wouldn’t come off. So much for Coke Zero. He pulled out his phone and typed into the search bar: [Is it okay to throw away a dirty child?] The AI read the search query aloud. I puffed out my cheeks and poked him. “You can’t throw me away!” My voice trembled. “Bad Daddy! You already kicked Fifi, and Fifi still hurts!” His gaze fell to the purple bruises already forming on my arms and legs. His fingers, holding the phone, froze. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “…Sorry,” he mumbled. “That was… that was my fault. Don’t be mad at me.” He looked down, his long eyelashes hiding the emotion in his eyes. [HOLY SHIT, THE VILLAIN APOLOGIZED?!] [Is this the power of blood ties? After four failed attempts, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him be gentle…] [This is kind of sad. The villain has never known love. To suddenly have a daughter who depends on him completely… he must be terrified.] I didn’t understand the text. All I knew was that I had held back my tears when he was mean to me. But the moment I heard his soft, gentle voice, it was like a feather landing on the surface of a lake, becoming heavy with water, and sinking to the very bottom. My heart sank with it. My lip trembled, and big, fat tears started rolling down my cheeks. “Daddy is good,” I hiccupped. “Fifi is just a baby who’s scared of pain. Hic.” “Daddy, please don’t leave Fifi.” 3 Ryder’s pupils contracted. He froze. After a long moment, as if he’d made a momentous decision, he took my sticky, Coke-covered hand in his. His voice was a little hoarse. “Okay.” He wiped away my tears, which only made me break down completely. I started wailing. My cries were so loud that a customer at a nearby table looked around, confused. “Is someone boiling a kettle?” Ryder’s fingers tightened on mine, and his ears turned bright red. In a moment of sheer desperation, he shoved a piece of fried chicken into my mouth. The world fell silent. Thirty seconds later, I was still holding the chicken. “Dis thing (chew, chew, chew) is sho yummy! (chew, chew, chew)” Ryder sighed. “Even food can’t shut you up!” By the time he’d taken me to a department store, given me a bath, and bought me a mountain of new things, it was already evening. He held my hand, his steps slow and measured. The setting sun stretched our shadows long behind us. “Fifi Ryder,” he said. “From now on, your name is Fifi Ryder.” I giggled and hugged his leg. “Fifi’s not a stray anymore! Fifi has a daddy!” Ryder scooped me up into his arms. “What stray? You’re a princess, you know that?” He looked at my face, and a thought seemed to strike him. He pulled out his phone and called Leo. “How do I keep scumbags with bleached hair away from my daughter?” Leo was silent for a moment. “Ryder… we are the scumbags with bleached hair.” “…” That night, Ryder walked into a salon. “I want this mess dyed black. Now.” With his naturally sharp features and high nose bridge, the black hair toned down his rebellious aura, giving him a cooler, more refined look. He held me, snapped a selfie, and sent it to Leo. [From now on, bleached-blond lowlifes like you are not allowed near my daughter.] Leo: [?_?] For the next few days, Ryder skipped school. He stayed up all night, devouring five different parenting books. He even started trying to cook child-friendly meals in his small apartment. The system text was baffled. [Shouldn’t he be out street racing? Partying? Getting into trouble? What is he DOING?!] In just three days, Ryder had become an expert at tying my hair into cute little pigtails. He was about to take me to the park when his father called. “Ryder, I don’t care what you do outside of school, but didn’t I tell you to stop having your teachers call me?!” “If you’re not going to class, what are you doing? If you don’t want to study, you can just go die.” The hateful words made Ryder’s face harden. His eyes went cold, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone. I gently pried his fingers open. “Daddy, be gentle. You’re hurting the phone.” Hearing my voice, the fury in his eyes softened. He lifted me up with one arm. “Fine,” he said into the phone. “Just remove me from the family registry, and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.” Normally, his father would have exploded in a tirade of curses. But today, he was strangely calm. “Ryder, you…” Before he could finish, Ryder heard a small, childish voice on the other end. “Daddy, I wanna go to the amusement park!” His father’s voice immediately turned warm and loving. “Of course, sweetie. Daddy will take you.” Ryder’s eyes turned bloodshot. The anger he’d just suppressed came roaring back. “Got a new son already? How could you do this to Mom?” His father didn’t answer. He just hung up. [Oh no, the wheels of fate are turning… He’s going to go street racing tonight and break his leg…] [Noooo, I was enjoying the last three days of wholesome content!] [The villain’s life is so tragic. I’d go dark, too, if I were him.] Ryder’s hand tightened on the phone, his first instinct to hurl it against the wall. But then he remembered me, and he forced himself to stop. His face was blank, but I could feel waves of profound sadness rolling off him. I hugged his leg and looked up at him. “Daddy, don’t be sad.” Ryder knelt and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m fine.” I hugged him back, gently patting his back. “Daddy, don’t tell lies.” “Fifi loves you.” His body went rigid. I felt a damp spot spreading on my shoulder. “Daddy, don’t cry little pearl tears.” His voice was muffled. “Okay. I won’t.” 4 Perhaps it was the unstoppable force of the plot, but Ryder still went out on his motorcycle that night. The difference was, this time, he strapped me securely to his chest, adding several extra safety harnesses. Only when he was certain I was safe did he swing his leg over the bike. He drove slowly. So slowly that an old man jogging on the sidewalk easily overtook us. Seeing the old man’s disdainful glance, Ryder fell silent. He wanted to speed up, but when he saw me with my mouth wide open, catching the wind like a baby bird, he sighed in resignation and pulled over. He took me to a nearby ice cream shop. “Daddy, ice cream will stop the pearl tears!” I held up my cone to him with a big smile. “Daddy eats first!” [What a good girl!] [I want a daughter like this!] [Wait, did we just… solve the car crash plot point like that?] He glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The next second, he opened his mouth and ate the entire scoop of ice cream in one bite. My smile froze. “Daddy… you… you ate it all?” “You… Fifi… Fifi is gonna—” Just as the tears were about to fall, he stifled a laugh and quickly shoved the sugar cone into my mouth. Seeing my face caught between crying and not crying, he finally burst out laughing. All the pent-up emotions, all the darkness and pressure, just seemed to evaporate into the night air. On the way home, we rode slowly, the cool evening breeze on our faces. As we passed a dark alley, we heard a woman’s desperate cries. “Let go of me! Somebody, help!” A man’s sleazy laugh followed. “You won’t be saying that once you start enjoying it.” The system text sounded confused. [Huh? This is the scene where the hero saves the heroine. Why is the villain here?] [Holy crap, he’s going in!] Ryder handed me his phone, already dialing 911. “Tell the nice police officer that some people are fighting. Then you stand right here and don’t move. I’ll be back in three minutes.” A moment later, the sound of pained grunts echoed from the alley. I felt a little scared. My voice trembled as I spoke to the dispatcher. “Officer, there’s a fight!” I stammered out the address. Three minutes later, Ryder emerged, draping his jacket over the shoulders of the heroine, Stella. His own white hoodie was stained with blood. “Thank you,” Stella said, her voice hoarse, her eyes filled with gratitude. Ryder just waved it off, more focused on scooping me up. Hearing the approaching sirens, his face beamed with pride. “Good job, Fifi. You know how to call the police now.” Seeing him, my fear vanished. I puffed out my chest proudly. “Hmph.” He laughed, the last of the darkness gone from his eyes.

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1 The moment Daniel’s father was rushed back into the emergency room, Daniel fled to a secluded corner of the hospital, his eyes bloodshot, phone pressed to his ear. “Chloe, I’m falling apart,” his voice cracked. “Can you just… talk to me for a bit?” Hidden behind a door just down the hall, I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. But I didn’t need to. In that instant, I knew it was over between me and Daniel. He was under an immense amount of pressure, after all. His father was in and out of the ICU, with doctors constantly handing us grim prognoses. His company was hemorrhaging investors, who weren’t just pulling their projects—they were taking the capital with them. The weight on his shoulders was crushing. And now, there was a girl who could soothe that pressure. A girl who could buy him a simple bubble tea and make him feel a flicker of peace. What chance did I have? I was the girlfriend whose three calls a day had become a burden. What right did I have to cling to him, to drag this out any longer? Daniel had once promised we’d get married in his thirty-second year. It was a silly, sentimental thing. His grandmother, a woman who read tarot cards like most people read the news, had sworn that if he didn’t have a major “joyful event” to ward off the bad luck in his thirty-second year, he’d face “a cage of steel”—her dramatic way of saying jail time. So I waited. I waited twelve long years for him to finally reach that fateful year, for him to be ready to marry me. But as soon as the year began, instead of wedding bells, disaster struck. First, his father had a massive stroke and was hospitalized. Then, one by one, his business partners started pulling out, gutting the company’s most promising projects. The pressure transformed Daniel. He was either chain-smoking on the balcony or collapsing into bed, the breath rattling in his chest, too exhausted to even speak. My own life was its own special kind of hell. I’d confidently told my mother at the New Year’s party that this was it, this was the year. Now, six months had passed in silence. Her calls became more frequent, her tone sharper with each one. “What is going on with you two? You swore this was the year! What happened?” “Do you have any idea how old you are? You’re thirty-two, Eve! You and Daniel have been together since college. Look around you! Your friends who started dating years after you are already married with kids in kindergarten. What are you waiting for?” Every conversation was a new wave of anxiety. At first, I tried to be patient. I’d explain, “Daniel’s company is in trouble, his dad is in the hospital. I can’t bring up marriage right now.” But her nagging wore me down until one day, I snapped. “If you want to get married so badly, you go do it! Why are you pressuring me?” The stress of that argument sent my mother to the hospital with heart palpitations. So there I was, juggling my job, looking after Daniel’s father, and now, my own mother was in a hospital bed. My head was a constant, buzzing hive of stress. And my mom, she wasn’t done. Lying in her bed, she’d weep and threaten me, the heart monitor beeping erratically beside her. “If you don’t marry Daniel this year, Eve, I’ll die. I swear it.” I couldn’t be the reason my mother died. I caved. I promised her I would talk to Daniel that very night. “Are you insane?” he roared when I brought it up. “Eve, my father is dying in a hospital bed, my entire life is falling apart, and you want to talk about getting married?” His words struck me like a physical blow, and the air left my lungs. My face went pale. It took me a moment to find my voice, my lips trembling. “Daniel, don’t you remember? Your grandmother… the prophecy. If you don’t get married this year, you’ll…” He stared at me for a second, a flicker of something in his eyes, before it was replaced by pure rage. “You actually believe that crap?” he spat. “It was just something I made up to get you to stop bringing up marriage every five minutes! You’re obsessed!” My heart didn’t just drop; it shattered. It plunged into an icy abyss. He didn’t even seem to notice me standing there, frozen in shock. He just turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. After that, a wall of ice went up between us. He wouldn’t answer my calls. He’d leave my texts on ‘read.’ Two weeks ago, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to his office. It was like stepping into a different man’s world. His minimalist desk was now cluttered with tiny, cheerful green plants and a collection of colorful designer vinyl figures. And his usual black Americano had been replaced with a strawberry boba tea. Daniel hated strawberries. For twelve years, he’d hated them. A chill snaked its way into my soul. As I stood there, reeling, a muffled sound drifted from the conference room. A sob. I knew that sound. It was Daniel. I’d heard him cry like that in his sleep for months now. My heart hammering against my ribs, I crept towards the conference room. Through the glass wall, I saw him. His head was buried in the shoulder of a young woman, his back shaking with ragged sobs. His hands were wrapped around her waist, clutching her like a drowning man holding onto a piece of driftwood. “Chloe,” he choked out, “I’m so tired. I feel like I can’t go on.” The girl gently stroked his back. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay. If the company fails, it fails. We’ll figure it out. And your dad will get better. You have to believe that.” Hearing her words, Daniel lifted his head and kissed her. A deep, desperate kiss. The world went cold. I was so stunned, so horrified, that the thought of storming in and confronting them didn’t even cross my mind. All I could do was stumble backward, my only instinct to flee. Later, I did some digging. Chloe Reed. An intern he’d hired a year ago. A former classmate from his high school. They had even had a brief, bittersweet romance back then, one that ended when he left for college. When I found out, I locked myself in my apartment for three days. But how do you just sever a twelve-year bond? I wasn’t just heartbroken; I was furious. I wasn’t ready to give up. So I started clinging to him, like a fool grabbing at straws. I called him constantly. I begged him to come home. I even humbled myself, apologizing for pressuring him about the wedding. He came home, sometimes. But the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling indifference. The dinners I cooked for him would be reheated three or four times before he’d finally walk through the door. I’d text him in the morning—Did you eat breakfast? How are things at the office?—and he’d either ignore me or snap back. Can you just stop texting me? I’m swamped. I don’t have time for this. But I knew the truth. A well-placed designer handbag had bought me a spy inside his office. I had a real-time feed of his daily life. The man who had no time to read my texts had plenty of time to go downstairs for bubble tea with her. The man who was too stressed to talk to me had time to take her shopping and to the movies after work. The memories made my chest ache with a dull, throbbing pain. In the past, if I’d seen him like this—huddled in a stairwell, crying like a lost child—I would have rushed to him, wrapped my arms around him, and whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” But now? Now, I just watched him for a moment, turned around, and walked away. I found the private nurse I’d hired to care for his father. I handed her a thick folder containing his insurance cards, medical records, medication lists—everything. “Please give these to Mr. Cross,” I said, my voice steady. “And from now on, you’ll need to get your salary from him.” The nurse stared at me, her mouth agape with confusion. I didn’t offer a single word of explanation. I just turned, walked to the escalator, and descended, leaving that part of my life behind me on the floor above. 2 I had barely stepped into the apartment I’d once shared with Daniel, ready to pack my things, when my phone rang. It was him. His voice was a low growl, laced with raw impatience. “Where the hell are you? Eve, have you lost your mind? My dad’s in the middle of a fucking crisis, and you just disappear?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Do you have any idea how important my meeting this afternoon is?” Hearing that familiar, angry tone, a tremor of pain shot through me, even though I’d been expecting it. I took a deep breath, forcing my own voice to remain calm, level. “Daniel, let’s break up.” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. Then, the explosion. “What the hell is wrong with you, Eve? How much more drama can you possibly create? My father is lying in a hospital bed, he could die any second, and you pick now to break up with me?” He was right. The old me would never have done this. For the past six months, no matter how much his stress-fueled anger was directed at me, no matter how cruel his words became, I never once mentioned leaving. I understood. People crack under pressure. Their personalities warp. I had even tried to carry some of his burden, to keep him from completely shattering. I was the one who found the best private nurses. I was the one who pulled strings to get appointments with specialists. I was the one who navigated the bureaucratic nightmare of hospital admissions and surgery schedules. Even when I found out about him and his little intern, I made excuses for him. He’s just under too much pressure. He made a mistake. Just last week, his father’s condition worsened dramatically. The doctor issued three critical warnings in a single day. I called Daniel, no answer. I texted him, no reply. I couldn’t let his father die. In a panic, I borrowed $30,000 from my parents and authorized the emergency brain surgery myself. I saved his father’s life. And for my troubles, I got a slap across the face. “Are you crazy, Eve?” he’d yelled, his handprint stinging my cheek. “He’s an old man! You let them perform brain surgery on him? Is it because he’s not your father that you can be so reckless with his life?” My cheek throbbed, a dull, sour ache, but I didn’t dare cry out. I just held my face and tried to explain, my voice trembling. “Daniel, listen to me. The doctor said he wouldn’t have made it through the night without the surgery. You told me… you told me you couldn’t lose your dad. I was just trying to save him.” My eyes filled with tears of fear and hurt. He didn’t care. He just shoved past me and rushed into the hospital room. Then, last night, I saw his text messages. While his father was fighting for his life in the ER, Daniel was on a “getaway to the countryside” with his intern, Chloe, to “de-stress.” And on his frantic drive to the hospital after I finally got through to him, he’d actually detoured to take her to a clinic because she was having period cramps. So, let me get this straight. His father is dying, and he gets to have a romantic escapade with his mistress, but I’m expected to stand vigil outside the ICU like a goddamn martyr until my feet go numb? I choked back the suffocating pain in my chest. “Daniel,” I said again, my voice eerily calm. “What does your father being sick have to do with me breaking up with you? Or do you just subconsciously believe that it’s my duty to stand by you through thick and thin?” I paused, letting the question hang in the air. “I gave you twelve years, Daniel. I think that’s enough, don’t you?” I didn’t wait for his answer. I hung up. What was the point? No matter what I said, he would just see it as me being unreasonable, creating more drama. There can be a million reasons not to love someone, but you only need one to love them. My reason was long gone. 3 I moved out that day, leaving the condo Daniel had bought and returning to my own small apartment. That evening, I texted my mom to tell her it was over with Daniel. I braced myself for the inevitable frantic phone call, the barrage of yelling and accusations. But it never came. She just replied calmly, asking if I wanted her to come stay with me for a few days. I said no, even managed to joke with her on the phone for a bit. But the second I hung up, the tears started to fall. A silent, steady stream. Twelve years. From college sweethearts to something more like family. You can’t just sever a connection like that with a single sentence and not feel the phantom limb. As I was drowning in my own misery, my phone buzzed with a notification from a group chat I’d joined—a support group for families of patients at the hospital. Someone had sent a picture with a caption: “Un-freaking-believable. This guy’s dad is dying in the ICU, and he’s in the men’s room getting it on with some girl.” The picture was a grainy, clandestine shot of two people kissing passionately in a hospital bathroom. It didn’t show their faces clearly, but I knew. I knew it was him. The left hand, sliding up the woman’s dress, had a small tattoo on the back of it—a stylized design of my initials. The ring on his finger was the matching couple’s ring I had given him for our ninth anniversary. The expensive leather shoes in the shot were the ones I’d bought him just two weeks ago. Even the brand of boxer briefs, visible where their clothes were bunched up, was the one I always bought for him. Was he that desperate? That shameless? The moment I break up with him, he drags his intern into a public restroom? Wearing the clothes I bought him, the ring I gave him, to be with another woman? A strange numbness spread through my chest. The picture was scandalous, and the group chat exploded with comments. I couldn’t bear to see any more. Tears streaming down my face, I left the group chat and was about to turn off my phone when an unknown number called. I answered. A soft, gentle voice cooed on the other end. “Hello, is this Ms. Eve Wallace? Hi, my name is Chloe. I’m Mr. Cross’s assistant. I was just helping Daniel organize his things at the apartment, and I noticed that his mother’s heirloom bracelet, the antique one, seems to be missing. I was just calling to ask… did you happen to steal it?” 4 She put a special emphasis on the word steal. Daniel’s mother’s bracelet. He’d pawned it last month to cover a company shortfall. I wasn’t sure if Chloe knew that, but I knew exactly why she was calling. It was a declaration of victory. I’m in his home now. I’m the woman of the house. Everything that was yours is now mine. I didn’t answer her. Instead, I calmly used my other phone to dial 911. Hearing me speak to the police dispatcher, Chloe’s sweet facade finally cracked. “Eve, what are you doing? Why are you calling the police?” I ignored her, finished explaining the situation to the operator, and then finally turned my attention back to her. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Well, Chloe, you accused me of stealing. Words are just words. You wouldn’t believe any explanation I gave you, so I thought it would be best to get the authorities involved.” I paused for effect. “I’ll meet you at the precinct near Daniel’s apartment in twenty minutes.” I hung up before she could respond. Then, I began to put on my makeup. Frankly, I was curious. I wanted to see this woman who had managed to steal Daniel’s heart—or what was left of it—up close. 5 When I arrived at the police station, Chloe was already there. She was wearing a slinky, red silk nightgown I recognized—one I’d left behind because I never wore it. Over it, she had on a designer jacket worth a few thousand dollars—also mine. She looked stunning, a perfect blend of sexy and sophisticated. I took a deep breath and walked toward her. The moment I was in front of her, she burst into tears. “Oh, Eve, I’m so, so sorry!” she cried, her voice catching. “I didn’t know Daniel had sold the bracelet to cover business expenses. It was all a huge misunderstanding. I’ve already explained everything to the officers.” My brow furrowed. Her apology was too quick, too easy. One of the officers chimed in, patting her arm consolingly. “It’s all cleared up now,” he said, giving me a stern look. “It was just a misunderstanding. No need to get so worked up. You’ve scared the poor girl.” Just then, the screech of tires echoed from the street. Before I could even turn around, Daniel’s furious voice cut through the air. “Eve! What are you doing now?” He rushed over, yanking Chloe behind him protectively. He glared at me, his eyes filled with a venom I’d never seen before. “Can’t you just leave us alone?” he seethed. “The second we break up, you drag Chloe to a police station? What is your game, Eve? What kind of revenge are you trying to get?” He shoved his phone in my face. On the screen was a screenshot of the chat logs between me and the employee I’d paid to spy on him. “Look at you! Is there any line you won’t cross? Threatening me to get married, hiring people to spy on me… you’re disgusting.” My gaze shifted from his phone to the girl cowering behind him. I saw the triumphant, defiant glint in her eyes. I understood. This was her plan all along: to make Daniel and me tear each other apart for good. I didn’t say a word. I simply stepped forward and slapped him. Hard. The sharp crack echoed in the night air. “Daniel,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “I’m the one who found out you were cheating. Shouldn’t you be the one who’s scared?” His face paled slightly. Seeing his reaction, a bitter, mocking smile touched my lips. “I was with you from college until now, Daniel. When you started your business with nothing, I supported you. When you were at your lowest, my salary paid our bills. And what did you do? You refused to marry me. For the last six months, I’ve been the one taking care of your father, running around like a madwoman trying to save him. And you? You were screwing your intern.” I took a step closer, my voice rising with every word. “You scream at me because you’re stressed, because your company is failing, and I tried to understand. I bent over backwards to understand. And all along, you were betraying me. Now you have the audacity to stand here and question me? Do you even have the right?” The last words were laced with all the pain and fury I’d been holding back. Did he have any idea what the last six months had been like? My hair falling out in clumps, crying myself to sleep every night, desperately trying to save a man who wasn’t even my own father. And for what? So he could find solace in the arms of another woman. My vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was the sight of my tears, but a flicker of something—humanity, perhaps—returned to Daniel’s eyes. He hesitantly raised his hand, as if to wipe a tear from my cheek. But before his fingers could touch my skin, Chloe shot forward from behind him, slamming her body into mine.

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In the pouring rain, I knelt at a funeral for five hours, sobbing—just to earn a sliver of what my “dying” boyfriend Leo needed for surgery. Then I saw him. Smoking in the VIP section, surrounded by sycophants: “Is it true she’s a professional mourner, even pawning her dead mother’s heirlooms for you?” “Imagine her face,” they laughed, “when she finds out you’re a billionaire CEO—and this ‘sick boyfriend’ act was just revenge on your ex’s rival.” Leo blew a smoke ring. “Her tears are worthless. If she goes blind, so be it.” “Damn, Leo, you know how to handle women.” “She was born trash,” he said coldly. “Her fault for crossing Isabelle.” I stifled a sob. Every whispered “I love you”—a lie. Heart hollow, I called my general father: “I’ll take the arranged marriage.” … 1 I hung up, but the laughter from the VIP section didn’t stop. “Haha, Leo, you’re a master of the game.” “I heard that girl’s wailing is pretty melodic. Bet she sounds even better in bed, huh?” Leo shot the speaker a look. “You want to hear?” “I’ll record it for you guys next time.” “Hey, speaking of which, isn’t this a funeral? Why not bring your little crier over? Money’s money, right?” Leo took a deep drag from his cigarette and flicked the butt away. “She’s not worthy of an occasion like this.” “Besides, it’s not time yet.” The men around him snickered. “Getting soft, Leo? Don’t get caught in your own game.” “Never.” Someone teased, “Leo’s smart. It’s a good thing you didn’t bring her. If she actually managed to save up enough for the surgery, you’d have to stage a fake operation.” “No way. Leo’s just playing around. He’d never get serious.” Everyone fell silent, waiting for his answer. Including me. Finally, I heard his cold, sharp voice. “Of course not. How could I ever marry a funeral crier?” In that instant, my world shattered. Every ounce of pride and self-respect I had was ground into dust. I have no idea how I managed to stumble back to our rented room after accepting the three hundred dollars the butler handed me. At the door, the landlord was waiting, rubbing his fingers together. “Good haul today?” I numbly handed him one hundred and fifty dollars. Yes, it was the landlord who had gotten me this “job.” As thanks, I gave him half my earnings every time. I turned to go upstairs, but then I heard his voice, deliberately lowered, on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Leo, she made a good bit again today.” “Then raise her rent by fifty percent.” I recognized Leo’s voice instantly. The landlord hesitated. “Is… is that a good idea?” “Why not? It’s her own fault for being so good at making money.” “I tell her I’m not feeling well, and she works herself to the bone crying at funerals for me. I’m honestly afraid she’ll save up enough and try to force me to marry her.” “That’s true. If you actually got married, Miss Isabelle would not be pleased.” Leo was silent for a moment. “My guys have been working hard playing along with this act. The bonus will be in your accounts shortly.” The next second, the landlord shrieked. “Holy crap! Is that twenty thousand, five hundred and thirty-four dollars and ninety cents?” “Mr. Leo, that’s so much! And it’s such a specific number.” Leo’s voice was nonchalant. “It’s nothing. Spend it. There’s more where that came from.” Those few, careless words drained all the strength from my body. That was the exact amount of money I had scraped together over three years, one kneeling session at a time. A wave of helplessness crashed over me, and I crumpled against the wall, sobbing until I thought my lungs would burst. He’d sent me a single-page diagnosis, and I had immediately cut ties with my family to move in and take care of him. And with a few careless words, he had sentenced our three years together to death. If my father knew his daughter had become this pathetic, he’d probably disown me on the spot. 2 Back in the rundown apartment, I quickly started packing my things. But as I looked around, I realized there was almost nothing worth taking. The matching his-and-hers slippers he’d bought me for my birthday, $9.99 for two pairs, free shipping. The ring he’d given me—made from a soda can tab—after I’d spent six months caring for him in the hospital, when he’d cried and promised to marry me. The rainbow-colored kneepads he’d bought me after I started my “job,” and the cases of instant noodles in every flavor imaginable. Before him, I was a pampered princess who had never lifted a finger. After him, I ate ramen until I wanted to vomit and never once complained. I truly believed I had found a love that was one of a kind, the most precious thing in the world. Now I knew that even the love was a lie. I opened a drawer. Inside was a thick notebook, filled with my cramped handwriting detailing all his preferences. What he liked to eat, what he didn’t, his allergies, a daily log of his medication. On the last page was my blood donation record. During the leanest times, to make sure his “treatment” wasn’t interrupted, I would secretly sell my blood. The two days before each donation, I would drag him out for a big meal. He would always tease me. “Were you a starving ghost in a past life?” Back then, I thought it was playful banter. Now, I saw the malice and contempt dripping from his words. He never knew that of the five dollars we spent on breakfast, he ate four dollars and fifty cents’ worth. I would gnaw on half a bun and sip from a water bottle, starving until evening when I could finally eat again. I looked around the room: the piss-stained toilet seat, the moldy trash can, the creaky, hard bed. He never cleaned, never acknowledged the filth. Whenever I, fighting back nausea, would try to tidy up, he’d stop me. “Leave it. It’s not necessary.” At first, I thought he was worried about me overworking myself. Now I knew. He never saw this place as a home. He would pull me into bed, lost in his primal desires, but he never once planned a future that included me. It was time to wake up from this nightmare. In the end, I packed only a few of my own clothes and left quietly. But downstairs, I ran into Leo coming home. He looked surprised. “Aria? You have another gig this late?” Leo’s face, once so beloved, now looked like a stranger’s. He was pale, panting. “It started pouring the second I stepped out. Luckily, some kind people gave me a ride home.” The roar of a luxury car engine filled the air. Standing beside it were several impeccably dressed “kind people,” and among them, a woman of breathtaking beauty. I recognized her instantly. It was Isabelle, Leo’s real fiancée. Because on her wrist and around her neck were the bracelet and necklace my mother had left me. My breath caught in my throat. Even the heirlooms I’d pawned… he’d had someone manipulate the sale to get them. For three years, I had been living inside a colossal lie. I trembled with rage. My mother had left me two heirlooms. The priceless family bracelet I had pawned to pay for his “treatment.” All that was left was the necklace. Now, both pieces were on this woman. What was there left to believe? I walked straight up to her and held out my hand. “My mother’s heirlooms. Please give them back.” Leo’s adoring smile froze. “Aria, what are you doing?” I ignored him, my voice stubborn. “I just want my mother’s things back.” He forced a gentle smile, trying to explain. “You noticed?” “What a coincidence. The kind person who helped me just happens to be the one who bought your mother’s things.” “Aria, she helped me, so I gave her the necklace as a thank you. Isn’t it a bit ungrateful of you to demand it back?” 3 My face was a cold mask. I reached for the jewelry. Before my fingers even brushed her clothes, Isabelle let out a cry and collapsed to the ground. Her beautiful dress was soaked in the muddy rainwater, and a bruise was already forming on her forehead. “Why did you push me?” I was speechless. I saw a flicker of genuine pain in Leo’s usually indifferent eyes. He frowned. “Aria, apologize to her. Now.” I laughed in disbelief. “You want me to apologize?” “Go eat shit.” Humiliated in front of his friends, Leo’s face darkened with anger. “Aria, these people are clearly rich and powerful. You don’t want to get on their bad side. Just apologize.” Yes, they were rich and powerful. And so was he, standing right in front of me. The life-saving money I had scraped together, he could give away without blinking. “Never.” Seeing my firm refusal, Leo’s friends egged him on. “Dude, are you whipped? Can’t even control your own girlfriend?” “If you won’t apologize, then you can pay.” “That dress Isabelle is wearing is a global limited edition. Fifty thousand dollars.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t have any money.” Leo was furious now. He shoved me to my knees. His voice was harsh. “If you don’t have money, then get on your knees and kowtow. What’s the big deal?” “You kneel for a living every day. What’s so embarrassing about it? Is it so hard to bow your head for me?” His words were like a carving knife, scraping across my heart, each one drawing blood. To earn money for his treatment, my knees had become calloused, but I had never uttered a single word of complaint. But now, for something I didn’t even do, he was grinding my dignity into the dirt. All to appease his precious first love. The jeers and taunts of the crowd were like daggers, piercing the last shred of my pride. I started to unbutton my shirt. “You want money, right? I don’t have any. But I can pay with my body. How about it?” Leo stared at me like I was insane. “Aria, do you have any idea what you’re saying? Are you crazy?” I looked at him, my eyes unfocused. “Weren’t you the one who said you’d record me for your friends next time? Who wants to go first?” His pupils contracted, his face turning a ghastly white. “You… you heard?” Leo’s voice trembled. “No, that’s not it, let me explain…” I faced him, my voice dripping with scorn. “Explain what? That you’re not sick? That the late-stage leukemia was all a lie?” “You enjoyed watching me kneel and cry for money every day, just so you could squander it all, didn’t you? All because I outshone Isabelle at our thesis defense?” “Don’t worry about it. It was only the twenty thousand I scraped together over three years. Tell your friends to spend it well.” I gritted my teeth. “Leo, I truly wish you really did have leukemia.” I finally understood that hate is just love, shattered. Swallowing my humiliation, I continued to undress. Leo stopped me. He fumbled to cover me with his jacket, his voice frantic. “Aria, I’m begging you, stop.” “What’s wrong? Don’t want to share with your friends anymore?” “Leo, you’re so selfish. I feel sorry for the friends who had to act along with you for three years.” He flew into a rage. “Aria, I’ve already apologized! What more do you want?” 4 I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Let’s break up. And give me back my mother’s heirlooms.” “I know my status as a funeral crier is unlucky, low-class, and unworthy of a tycoon like you.” “I know my place. I won’t wait for you to get tired of me and kick me to the curb. I’ll leave on my own!” My mother’s heirlooms were meant for me to find the love of my life, to be my dowry. I had only pawned them to save Leo’s life. To think that all this time, I was living in his trap, played like a fool for three years. My nails dug into my palms. I had been so blind, so utterly disappointing to my parents. “Aria, listen to me, at first I really was—” “I don’t want to hear any of it. You played me for three years. I’m begging you, just let me go, okay?” Leo finally exploded. “What are you, a funeral crier, putting on airs for? So what if I lied to you?” “You’re a low-life. Marrying you is impossible. But if you’re obedient, I can make sure you’re well-cared for, for the rest of your life. Think about it.” “I’ve thought it through very clearly. I want my mother’s things,” I said, enunciating every word. A crack appeared in Leo’s composure. “You’re being unreasonable.” Isabelle stepped forward haughtily. “You want them back? Fine. I paid a good ten thousand for them. After being worn by me for a while, they’ve appreciated in value. How about twenty thousand? Cash.” Then she pointed to my knees. “Oh, I almost forgot. You earn a living with these. How about you kneel for three full days, and then I’ll give them back to you?” The crowd erupted in jeers. “With her pathetic, broke-ass life? Twenty thousand for three days! Miss Isabelle, you’re too generous!” “She could cry at funerals for the rest of her life and not make that much!” “Maybe if she found a sugar daddy. She’s got the looks for it. Our Mr. Leo is rich, handsome, and fit. She got lucky to be with him for so long.” Leo feigned concern. “Babe, just hold on. Kneel for three days, let Isabelle cool off.” Hearing this, Isabelle grew even more smug. She tossed the jewelry up and down in her hand. “When Leo gave me this, I thought it was some rare treasure. Turns out it’s just your dead mother’s stuff. How tacky.” With a flick of her wrist, she sent the heirlooms flying in a perfect arc, straight into a storm drain. The rushing rainwater swallowed them without a trace. My vision went red. “No!” I wanted to dive into the drain after them, but Leo held me back, his grip like a vise. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? They’re not even that valuable! As long as you stay with me, no strings attached, what can’t you have?” He didn’t understand. Those things were more precious to me than my own life, something money could never measure. I stared at him, my eyes burning, and slapped him hard across the face. Then I turned and walked away. Behind me, Leo’s lackeys were already sucking up to him. “Leo, man, just let a woman like that go. You’re not actually going to chase her, are you?” “No way, you can’t have actually fallen for that funeral crier, right?” The rain fell harder, and Leo’s reply was lost in the storm. I went straight back to the home I hadn’t set foot in for three years. A few days later, a friend of my father’s, a respected elder, passed away. I went to the funeral, as requested. At the entrance, I ran into Leo and his entourage.

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