My husband found an abandoned baby by the side of the road. I raised the child as my own, pouring my heart and soul into his upbringing. I supported him all the way through his Ph.D., and on the day he returned from his studies abroad, my husband finally laid his cards on the table. “How can you be so stupid?” he mocked. “I treat him better than a real son. Can’t you see why?” I smiled, a cryptic, knowing smile. He asked for a divorce, wanting to take our son and reunite with his lover to become a happy family of three. “I agree,” I said, without a flicker of concern. 1 When Nicholas brought the baby home, he was afraid I wouldn’t accept him. He told me he’d found the infant abandoned by the roadside. I cut him off. “You don’t have to say another word. I’ll treat him as if he were my own.” Nicholas was thrilled. He immediately sent me a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. I accepted it without a change in my expression. To refuse would have aroused his suspicion. After setting the baby down, Nicholas rushed off to a meeting at his company. I called my neighbor, Mrs. Gable, to come and watch the baby for a bit. Then I hurried to the supermarket to buy the best quality formula, stroller, and diapers. Once I had everything, I rushed back, breathless and exhausted. “Claire,” Mrs. Gable said, “you kept this a secret so well! I had no idea you were even pregnant.” “He’s not mine,” I replied. “Nicholas found him.” She laughed. “Look at you, all sweaty. Even a birth mother wouldn’t fuss this much. Found him? Don’t be silly.” I didn’t explain. I just thanked her and busied myself with the baby. I soon realized that formula alone wasn’t enough, so I hired a wet nurse. When Mrs. Gable heard about it, she came over to scold me. “That’s not right, you know. A baby needs his mother’s milk, or he won’t bond with you when he’s older.” I didn’t want to explain, so I just said I wasn’t producing enough milk. Mrs. Gable patiently gave me tips on how to increase my supply, like eating more pig’s trotters for protein. I nodded along, my mind elsewhere. Finally, she left. The baby was asleep. I went to the window and stood there for a long time, watching the willow branches sway in the cold wind. A perfect plan began to form in my mind. 2 The next morning, before Nicholas left for work, his mother burst in, shouting, “Just because you picked up a random child, you’re going to give him the family name? How are we supposed to face our ancestors?” Her gaze fell on me, and her anger flared anew. “What’s the use of a barren hen? If you had married another woman, we would have had grandchildren by now.” Nicholas and I had been married for five years without children. My mother-in-law blamed me. The truth was, the problem wasn’t with me, it was with him. He was the one who didn’t want to have children with me, but he told everyone I was the one who couldn’t conceive. Only I knew the truth. But I never said a word. Whenever his mother started in on me, Nicholas would change the subject. This time was no different. “Mom, I bought you some imported ginseng from overseas. I’ll have Michael deliver it to you when it arrives.” But this time, she wasn’t so easily placated. “Son, I’m not against you raising a foundling, but you have to give me a child of your own blood! I want a blood-relative! Blood! Do you understand?” Stunned by her aggressive tone, Nicholas glanced at me and then pulled his mother into another room. I could just barely hear his hushed voice through the crack in the door. “Don’t worry, Mom. One day, I’ll give you a surprise.” I smiled silently. A surprise? I just hope it doesn’t turn into a shock for you. After some time, the neighbors gradually learned the truth. None of them could understand my actions. “If you want a child so badly, why not have your own? Why raise a foundling like a treasure?” “Maybe she can’t have children?” “Modern medicine is so advanced. If you want a child, you can have one.” “I don’t know what that woman is thinking.” Mrs. Gable came over to talk to me. “So the baby really was found by your husband. Why are you being so foolish? No matter how good you are to him, he’s not your own.” “Sooner or later, his real parents will come looking for him and take him away.” “So, if you want a child, you have to have your own. People use IVF all the time now. The reproductive clinic in the city is very famous. A lot of people who couldn’t conceive went a few times and it worked out.” “I have a relative who works there. I can make a call, and you and your husband can go straight there.” I smiled and shook my head. “Mrs. Gable, thank you for your kindness. But I think this is fine.” She touched my forehead, her eyes looking at me as if I were insane. 3 Later, through Mrs. Gable, the story spread like wildfire. The rumors were ugly. Some said I had lost my mind. Others said I was mentally ill. Still others claimed I was trying to become an internet celebrity, desperate for fame. I didn’t care about any of it. When it came time to name the child, Nicholas was incredibly invested. He left his company in the hands of his assistant and spent three days at home, poring over dictionaries. In the end, he chose the nickname “Leo” and the full name “Leona.” A girl’s name for a baby boy. Every evening when he came home from work, Nicholas would hold the baby, whispering “Leo, Leo.” Sometimes, as he said the name, his gaze would drift to the window, as if he were lost in a trance. I saw it all. I pretended to know nothing, and the plan that had been brewing in my mind for so long became even more refined. Leo grew up day by day under my meticulous care. When it was time for him to start school, I dropped him off and picked him up every day, rain or shine. I had the highest attendance rate of all the parents. Over time, many of the other parents got to know me. When they found out Leo was a foundling, they were all surprised and confused. Especially when Leo turned out to be an excellent student, always at the top of his class. Many parents would say to my face, “It’s one thing if the child isn’t bright, but he’s so smart. His birth parents will definitely come back for him one day, and then all your efforts will have been for nothing.” I never said anything in response, just smiled. I became even more dedicated to the child, taking better and better care of him. One day, Nicholas, who never bought me gifts, surprised me with an expensive silk scarf. He said it was a reward for being so good to Leo. I said, “He’s our child. Why are you being so formal?” He was taken aback for a moment, then quickly nodded. “Right, right, you’re right. We shouldn’t be.” After he said that, he turned away, a smug, mysterious smile spreading across his face. I smiled too, a secret smile. Nicholas, you think I’ve been kept in the dark all this time. You think you’re so clever. But you have no idea that there’s someone even more clever than you. But that someone isn’t me.

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The hair salon was having a huge year-end sale, so on a whim, I bought a membership card. But when I went in for a wash, the shampoo girl not only deliberately ruined my makeup but also insulted me, saying I was dark and ugly without it. Trembling with anger, I demanded to cancel my card. They just sneered, telling me that for the small amount I was paying, I couldn’t expect to be treated like a queen, especially since I wasn’t even getting a color or perm. When I tried to call the police, they snatched my phone. Then they started a vicious rumor, saying my money wasn’t clean and that’s why I was so stingy. They looked so smug, thinking I would just give in. But I just smiled and waved to the security guard at the door. “Call my dad. Tell him to buy this entire street.” “And then, tell these people to get the hell out.” 1 As soon as I walked into the salon, a female employee greeted me with a smile. “Hello, are you here for a color or a perm?” I walked straight to the washing stations. “Just a wash, thanks.” “And could you please be a little careful? I have makeup on today.” The smile on her face froze for a second. She turned on the tap, tested the water temperature with her hand, and then asked tentatively, “It’s almost the new year. Don’t you want a new look?” “And since you came in with makeup on, our senior stylist could design a unique hairstyle just for you!” I was scrolling through my phone, not paying much attention. “I have plans later. I just need a wash.” The employee’s voice faltered. After a long pause, she said, with a distinct chill in her tone, “Oh.” The next second, a stream of scalding water hit my face. I shot up from the chair with a yelp. I stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous. “What are you doing?!” But the shampoo girl just blinked, her expression one of pure innocence. “What’s wrong, ma’am?” “Is there a problem with the water?” She tested it with her hand again, then looked at me with a mocking sneer. “Oh, I thought pigs weren’t afraid of hot water.” I was completely baffled. Her malice was so blatant that I started to wonder if I had misunderstood. “Did… did you just insult me?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I… I haven’t done anything to you, have I? Is it a crime to be a customer in your salon?” “Don’t you know I just bought a membership card?! I put ten thousand dollars on it!” “You certainly didn’t have this attitude the day I signed up!” She glanced down at her freshly manicured nails, unconcerned. “Oh, you did. So what?” “We cater to high-end clients who come in for color and perms. As for delicate little princesses like you, who have long nails and need to use a membership discount for a simple wash, well, we just don’t have the right kind of service for you.” I was furious. “So what you’re saying is, if I don’t get a color or perm, you can’t even give me a proper hair wash?” She rolled her eyes. “Believe whatever you want.” “And another thing, I noticed it when you came in. You’re all dressed up, but your face is caked in so much foundation! It’s terrifying! If you have enough money for that much makeup, why not take care of your hair? Hah!” Her attitude made me shake with rage. It was winter, and I was bundled up in layers. Now, my hair was soaked, my makeup was ruined, and water was dripping down my neck, making my inner shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin. I was supposed to meet my crush this afternoon! Now, all my plans were ruined. I pulled the membership card from my bag and slammed it on the counter. “The owner! Where’s the owner?!” “I want to cancel my card!” 2 The owner came over when he heard the commotion. But after listening to the whole story, he told me, with a perfectly straight face, “That’s our salon’s policy.” “How about this? If you’d like to enjoy a comfortable hair wash, I can deduct the cost of a color and perm from your card. Our most basic color package is $788. How does that sound?” I was so shocked I was speechless. “Are you even listening to yourself?!” “That’s… that’s basically forcing me to buy something I don’t want!” But the owner just frowned. “How is it forced? If you want a color, we’ll give you a great one. If you don’t, we’ve still given you a good wash. It’s your choice, isn’t it?” “I understand. You saw our year-end promotion, a 30% discount with a membership card, and you thought you could take advantage of us. But if you only get a wash and still get a 30% discount, that’s just a few dollars. How is that any different from robbing us?” “We’re a small business. Please don’t think you can come in here and act like you’re God just because you’re spending a little money.” “We don’t serve gods here!” All the while, the shampoo girl stood there, her back straight, a smug look on her face. I had never encountered such a bizarre salon or such bizarre people. I was so angry I wanted to laugh. “Fine, fine, you don’t serve gods. So can a god get a refund?” The owner’s brow furrowed. “No, you can’t.” I was even more exasperated. “What do you mean, no?!” “Haven’t you ever heard of consumer protection laws?!” He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. “Miss, I believe we have been trying to communicate with you in a civil manner!” “But why do you insist on being so unreasonable and embarrassing yourself?!” “Don’t talk to me about protection laws! All I know is that when you signed up for our membership card, you signed an agreement! If you want to cancel now, you’re in breach of contract, and the remaining balance on your card is the penalty! We will not refund it!” “Please don’t make things difficult for us small business owners!” I stared at him, my finger pointed at myself, my face a mask of disbelief. “Me?! I’m making things difficult for you?!” “And… and you’re a small business?!” “So the $300 color, $500 perm, and thousand-dollar treatments on your price list… those are all part of a small business, are they?” “Fine! You don’t recognize consumer protection laws? I’ll call the police! Let’s see if they recognize them!” Furious, I pulled out my phone. I’d just dialed the three numbers when my phone was snatched from my hand. It was the shampoo girl. She was holding my unlocked phone, gleefully scrolling through it. She looked me up and down and tsked. “So this is how you make your money.” “No wonder you’re so stingy with it.” 3 My face darkened. “What are you talking about?” I demanded. But she just looked at me with contempt, brazenly holding up my phone for me to see. On the screen was my chat with my dad. She scrolled through the chat history, her voice dripping with disdain. “Tsk, tsk, so many money transfers…” “This guy’s profile picture… he looks at least forty or fifty, right? You have some interesting tastes.” “Oh, but I guess for someone in your line of work, you can’t be too picky.” A vein throbbed in my forehead. I held out my hand. “Give it back,” I said, my voice cold. “Or else…” But she completely ignored my threat. Not only did she not give it back, she passed my phone around to the other customers. They covered their mouths, their eyes full of a salacious amusement, laughing and whispering amongst themselves. “Did you see that?” “I didn’t at first!” “But look at her face now! Why do you think she wears so much makeup?! To seduce old men, of course!” “Hah!” “I thought it was strange from the beginning! We don’t usually get low-end customers who just want a wash. So a little water, and the mask comes off!” “The makeup on our regular, high-paying customers is waterproof, you know! Not like her…” The people around me started to join in, smirking and making fun of me. “Seriously, little girl, if you can’t even afford a color and perm, why pretend to be rich and buy a membership card?” “Yeah! We all know April. She’s great at her job. She’s so thorough, and she even gives a massage. You’re only paying a few bucks, you can’t expect the same service as us!” “Exactly! If you’re that desperate, why not ask your sugar daddy for more money? This is so embarrassing!” “Hey, hey, it’s almost the new year. Her sugar daddy is probably with his own family. It’s normal for a girl to be a little short on cash during the off-season, hahaha!” I watched as the group, led by the shampoo girl, April, huddled together, pointing and commenting on the contents of my phone. One moment they were saying my emojis were childish, the next that my tone was disgusting. I tried to get my phone back, but the male owner blocked my way, his eyes raking over me in a lewd manner. He stroked his chin and chuckled. “So, little girl, this is your line of work?” “You should have said so earlier! If you had, you wouldn’t have needed April. I would have washed your hair myself!” “A nice, long wash!” I was so disgusted my skin crawled. I was about to argue with him when a sudden flash of light blinded me. When the spots cleared from my eyes, I saw April holding my phone. She had just taken a picture of me, my hair dripping wet, my face a mess of smeared makeup. And she was sending it to my C!R!U!S!H! “Aaaah—!” A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my throat. 4 April and her gossiping cronies still hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation. They raised their eyebrows, a mocking smile on their faces. “See, see! She’s panicking! I told you this pretty boy was her latest target!” “He looks like a sweet, innocent college kid. And she, now that she can’t make money over the holidays, is trying to prey on an honest man! Hah, not on my watch!” “Exactly! Look at all the fake pictures she posts online. It’s disgusting! In reality, she’s just a gold-digging tramp! We’re doing him a favor! We’re saving a handsome man from this kind of woman!” I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I tried to grab my phone, but the male owner pinned me down. He held me by the neck and, like a pervert, stroked my wet hair, his voice a lewd purr. “Ma’am, isn’t it uncomfortable with your hair all wet?” “Let me blow-dry it for you. And I’ll give you a treatment, too. With protein and essence… a very, very long treatment. It’s okay if you don’t have money. You can pay in other ways.” I shoved at him, but I couldn’t move him. “You’re just a salon owner! Who do you think you are?!” I screamed. “Even if you don’t give me back my phone, I’ll call the police the second I walk out of here!” But the owner just sniffed my hair like a creep and sneered, “The customers here are all my regulars. What are you?” “Call the police? You have any proof?!” With that, he shoved me back into the chair, his knee pressing between my legs. He squinted at me, his body leaning closer and closer. The faces of the people around me were all alight with the thrill of the spectacle. I struggled, but I was trapped. Just then, through the crowd, I saw him. My bodyguard, who was supposed to pick me up after my hair was done. My eyes lit up. I waved and shouted, “Bill! I’m over here!” He immediately pushed through the crowd and rushed in. The salon owner’s face was a mask of shock. Before he could react, my bodyguard had kicked him off of me and surrounded me protectively. They retrieved my phone and handed it back to me. I took it, but instead of calling the police, I called my dad. The call connected. Looking at the disgusting faces in front of me, I fought back a wave of nausea and said, my voice cold, “Dad, I want to buy a street.”

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I was Eleanor Whitmore, the trueborn daughter of the Duke of Kensington. But when my grandmother fell gravely ill, I willingly retreated to a convent, dedicating three years of prayer and solitude to her recovery. When I finally returned to the grandeur of Kensington Manor, I found that my brother, Alexander, the one who had always cherished me, had a new focus for his affection: Lila, a girl my mother had taken in as her ward. He had thrown a lavish coming-of-age ball in her honor, a spectacle where he declared to all of high society that she was the true daughter of the Duke, and I was merely the adopted one. He even promised her the engagement my mother had arranged for me, his words a venomous whisper: “Look at you, Eleanor. You’re a disgrace, utterly uncivilized. How could someone so coarse ever be worthy of the young Lord Ashton?” In my last life, my weakness was my undoing. I let them break me, let Alexander and Lila torture me until my last breath. But this is not that life. I have been born again, and this time, I will not yield. With a heart of ice, I marched toward Lila, who stood resplendent in a gown of sapphire silk—the very gown my mother had sewn by hand for my debut. I grabbed the delicate fabric and, with a vicious tug, tore it from her body. “What do you think you are?” I snarled, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. “A little street rat, daring to put your hands on something that belongs to the daughter of this house?” 1 The ballroom fell silent. Every eye was on us. Alexander was the first to react. He shoved me aside, his face a mask of fury, and wrapped Lila in his arms, covering her with his own coat. “Eleanor, have you lost your mind?” he roared, his eyes blazing at me. “What are you doing?” He turned to the servants. “How can the House of Kensington have a daughter like this, attacking her own sister? Bring Lady Lila’s gown back to her at once!” I tossed the ruined silk to a trembling maid. “My sister, Alexander?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Lila is my sister? Tell me, does your conscience not ache when you speak such lies?” Lila clutched Alexander’s arm, her eyes welling with perfectly formed tears. “Alexander, please, don’t be angry with Eleanor for my sake,” she whispered, her voice a delicate tremor. “It’s just a dress. If she wants it, she can have it. After all… she went to the convent to pray for me. I owe her this much.” She paused, letting her words sink in, a masterpiece of manipulation. “If I hadn’t fallen so ill back then, it would have been my duty, as the Duke’s daughter, to go and pray for Grandmother. Mother was so moved by Eleanor’s filial piety that she adopted her. It’s only right that I show her some charity.” Her twisted narrative spread through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers began, sharp and cruel. “So, Eleanor is just the adopted one? No wonder she looks so plain.” “Utterly brazen for a charity case. You’d think she’d show some gratitude.” “Lady Lila is far too kind. A servant like that should be dismissed, not treated like a sister.” Alexander pointed a commanding finger at the maid holding the dress. “Bring that gown here.” Lila’s personal attendant, a stout woman named Mrs. Gable, snatched the dress and presented it to Alexander with a fawning smile. “My Lord, here it is. We must help Lady Lila change back immediately.” I moved so fast she didn’t see me coming. I seized her wrist and my hand cracked across her face in a slap that echoed through the hall. “You are a servant in this house,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Who gave you the audacity to snatch something from my hands?” Mrs. Gable cradled her cheek, wailing. “Miss Eleanor! Lady Lila has always been the mistress of this house! She treats us with kindness! I’m an old woman, I’ve never been struck in my life! My Lord, you must defend me!” My eyes bored into hers. “You’ve served this family for years, woman. Open your eyes and think very carefully before you speak again. Who is the true lady of this house?” Her bravado vanished. She glanced at my face, then back at Alexander, stammering, “My… my Lord…” 2 Alexander’s expression flickered, but before he could speak, Lila tugged his sleeve. “Brother, today is a happy occasion. Let’s not ruin it over a silly dress. I can simply wear something else.” His anger flared anew. “Absolutely not! Mother designed this gown especially for your debut. It cannot be replaced. The royal decree will be arriving soon—Mother promised she would petition the King to have you named a Countess upon your coming of age!” I stared at the brother who had once doted on me. Everything changed the day Lila, a starving orphan, had collapsed before my mother’s carriage. Mother, ever compassionate, brought her home to be my companion and later adopted her as a ward. From that moment on, Alexander had eyes for only one sister: Lila. He praised her endlessly. Lila was gentle, obedient, and graceful, everything a lady should be. I was a tomboy, too wild, a disappointment. To please her, he orchestrated this grand lie, declaring her the trueborn heir at her debut ball. In my last life, that lie was my death sentence. I was scorned, beaten by my own brother’s command, and thrown into a damp, dark woodshed to “reflect” on my sins. While they feasted and celebrated Lila’s triumph, she crept into the shed and released a viper. By the time Alexander remembered me the next day, my body was already cold. This time, I met his furious gaze without flinching. “That gown was made for me, brother,” I said, my voice steady. “Mother stitched it with her own hands. How can you so blatantly favor Lila, passing off a crow as a phoenix? Do you have no fear of Mother’s wrath when she returns?” Mother had gone to the country estate to bring Grandmother home. A sudden storm had delayed them, causing them to miss my return from the convent—a return she had planned to welcome herself. I had come back alone, not wanting to trouble her. I never imagined I’d walk into this betrayal. Alexander had, of course, timed Lila’s ball perfectly to coincide with Mother’s absence. Lila clutched the gown to her chest, biting her lip. “Sister, I know you want this dress, but… it was a gift from Mother, a symbol of her love. I would give you anything else, but I cannot give you this. I fear it would break her heart.” A sneering voice cut in from the crowd. “Eleanor, have you no shame? They call you a ‘ward’ to be kind. In truth, you’re just a beggar the Duchess picked up off the street. You should be grateful they feed and clothe you, yet you act like a trueborn lady? Have you looked in a mirror? Do you really think you’re worthy of any of this?” I turned to see Penelope Reed, the illegitimate daughter of a high-ranking minister and Lila’s most ardent sycophant. Ever since she’d caught wind that Lila was the “true” Kensington heiress, she’d been stuck to her like a shadow, hoping to ride her coattails into prominence. A cold smile touched my lips. “A beggar, you say? And what are you, Penelope? The product of your father’s back-alley affair, a stain on his name not even worthy of being called a true bastard. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare show my face in public. The Reeds must have hides as thick as castle walls.” Penelope flushed crimson, utterly speechless. Mrs. Gable scurried to Lila’s side. “My Lady, we must hurry and redo your hair. The auspicious hour is almost upon us.” Alexander’s anger softened as he looked at Lila. “Bring the jewels I chose for her,” he commanded. A maid brought forward a velvet tray. Resting upon it was a piece that made my blood run cold: a delicate, golden circlet, studded with more than a dozen fiery sapphires. It was my grandmother’s. I remembered her teasing me as a child, her voice warm with love. “One day, my sweet Eleanor, this will be the centerpiece of your dowry. It was a gift from the Queen herself. It will be the first treasure everyone sees.” And now, Alexander had stolen it for Lila. 3 “That belongs to me,” I choked out. “Grandmother gave it to me. Alexander, how could you give it to someone else?” He ignored me, gently placing the circlet in Lila’s hair. Only then did he turn, his face a mask of cold dismissal. “What is this nonsense? Grandmother said it was for the truest granddaughter of the House of Kensington. That is Lila. Are you going to lie about this, too?” Lila smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks, her eyes dancing with triumph. “Sister, when you have your own debut, I promise I’ll give you a beautiful hairpin. But this… this was Grandmother’s most treasured possession, a gift from the Queen, meant for my wedding day. I’m afraid on this, I cannot yield.” It was the same in my last life. Every time we clashed, she would play the part of the magnanimous, long-suffering victim. It made Alexander pity her gentleness, admire her grace, and despise me all the more for my “crude” and “grasping” nature. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I lunged forward, pushing past the servants who tried to stop me, but Alexander’s hand shot out. The slap was a crack of thunder in the silent room. “How did our family produce someone so greedy, so shameless, so utterly devoid of dignity?” he spat, his face contorted with disgust. “Alexander, please,” I sobbed, the sting on my cheek a pale imitation of the pain in my heart. “I don’t care about anything else, but that was from Grandmother. Give it back to me.” He stepped closer, his voice laced with ice. “Are you going to continue with these lies? This tantrum? Guards! Take her away. Ten lashes with the riding crop. That should be enough to help her reflect on her station.” The guests whispered amongst themselves. “This adopted girl is truly shameless. Does she really think she’s a lady?” “I suppose if you play a role long enough, you start to believe it.” “If I were Lila, I’d have her thrown out on the street. What an embarrassment.” I stared at my brother, the man who had just condemned me to a whipping without a flicker of hesitation, and the last embers of love for him in my heart turned to ash. It was happening all over again. He would do anything to make Lila happy. “What’s all this? The ceremony hasn’t begun?” A smooth, masculine voice drifted from the doorway. Lord Alistair Ashton, the heir to the Viscount of Blackwood, stood there, a vision of aristocratic elegance. My fiancé. Or he was supposed to be. “Lila, my dear, your eyes are red. Who has been upsetting you?” he asked, striding toward her. He reached out as if to wipe a tear, then seemed to think better of it in public. Alexander pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at me. “It’s Eleanor! This wretched girl. She tried to steal Lila’s gown, then her circlet, all while insisting she’s the true daughter. I was just about to have her disciplined.” Alistair’s gaze fell upon me, cool and appraising. I clenched my fists. “Second sister,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension, “perhaps three years of pious austerity in the convent has made you… covetous of such beautiful things. It must be what’s compelling you to tell these fantastic tales. I never imagined the House of Kensington would harbor someone with such vulgar ambitions.” He turned back to Lila. “Your sister has a kind heart and doesn’t hold a grudge, but I do. If you continue to cause Lila distress, know that I, Alistair Ashton, will not be so forgiving.” I almost laughed. Vulgar ambitions? He, the heir of a crumbling house, was threatening me, the true daughter of a Duke? I saw the way Lila looked at him, her eyes soft with adoration. I knew from my past life that they were already secretly in love, their vows pledged in the shadows. Today was meant to be their triumph, the day they cemented her status as both the Kensington heiress and his future bride. I once believed that when my world came crashing down, he would be the one to save me. Instead, he had joined my tormentors, humiliating me before the world. That was a debt I would not forget. Alistair produced a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “A gift, for you,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for Lila. She opened it, and the ladies nearby gasped. Inside lay a delicate silver locket, shaped like two entwined hearts. For an unmarried man to give such a gift was a public declaration of love. “My Lord, he truly adores you! A lover’s locket!” “The wedding can’t be far off now.”

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After my rebirth, I made a solemn vow: I would no longer chase Caleb Vance. When he erected a sign at his birthday party that read, “No dogs or Peyton Reed allowed,” I booked a one-way ticket to Hawaii to put an ocean between us. When he complained that the very scent of me in his house made him sick, I obediently packed my bags and moved out. When he declared that after graduation, he couldn’t stand to breathe the same city’s air as me, I vanished without a trace. And finally, when he said my very existence made his first love, Fiona, “uncomfortable,” I simply nodded and, not long after, posted a picture with a new man. Over and over, I made the opposite choice I had in my past life. Because in that life, I got my wish. I married Caleb Vance. And on our wedding day, his beloved Fiona leaped from a cliff to her supposed death. He called me a murderer. He tormented me, abused me, and in the end, left my body to be swallowed by the sea. This time, all I want is to live. Later, when I was holding my new boyfriend’s hand, Caleb blocked my path, his eyes a startling, bloodshot red. “Peyton,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “Come back with me right now, and I’ll forgive you for this little joke.” 1 “Peyton Reed and dogs are not permitted.” Staring at the familiar, cruel sign, I began to weep with pure, unadulterated joy. My name, Peyton Reed, was being equated with a stray dog, a public humiliation. But no one could possibly understand the elation flooding my soul. Because I was reborn. I had returned to the day of my fiancé Caleb Vance’s birthday. In everyone’s eyes, I was unworthy of him. My family background, my looks—in every conceivable way, I was worlds beneath him. He was the golden heir to the Vance fortune, the prince of Astoria. I was an orphan with no one to my name. A single, foolish childhood promise had bound us together for over two decades. Everyone felt sorry for Caleb. Including him. And so, he had this sign erected, barring the door to me as I stood there in my carefully chosen evening gown. “Peyton, it’s not us. This is Caleb’s decision,” one of his best friends said, his face a cold mask as he relayed the message. “Don’t make this difficult for us. It won’t look good for you.” Flanking him were security guards armed with tasers. All this pomp and circumstance, just to keep me out. Everyone knew the depths of Caleb’s loathing for me. In my last life, I didn’t get into the party either. I waited by the gate like a pathetic dog, from sunup to sundown, until I collapsed from a fever brought on by the freezing night. When Caleb’s parents found out, they disciplined him and pushed our wedding forward. On the day we were married, his one true love, Fiona Young, threw herself from a cliff. In the eyes of Caleb and his loyal clique, I was the murderer. And Caleb avenged his lost love. He subjected me to years of cold silence, of withering neglect, of methodical, soul-crushing abuse. I pleaded for a divorce countless times, but he refused, sneering that he would drag me through hell until I died. I experienced what it was like to be ignored, to be invisible, to be treated as less than human for twenty long years. Finally, my mind shattered. I threw myself into the ocean and let the waves take me. The cruelest joke of all? In my final moments, as my soul clung to the living world, I saw her. I saw Fiona Young return to the country in a blaze of glory and fall into Caleb’s arms. She wasn’t dead. She was thriving, an internationally acclaimed designer. Her tragic, long-delayed romance with Caleb was celebrated by the world. From beginning to end, I was the only fool. This time, I would live for myself. And I would stay far, far away from Caleb Vance. 2 Under a sea of astonished gazes, I turned and walked away without a backward glance. Back at the Vance estate, I stripped off the suffocating gown. Everyone knew I was Caleb’s devoted puppy. When it came to him, I always went a hundred steps beyond what was necessary, planning every detail of his life to perfection. He had mentioned more than once that he was exhausted from work and needed a break. So, I had meticulously arranged a trip to Hawaii, coordinating it with his schedule, all because he’d once said he missed the beaches and the ocean there. Of course, in my previous life, he never went to Hawaii. He chose to go camping with Fiona instead. I was ordered to tag along. When a torrential downpour started, he sent me to find a bracelet Fiona had dropped. I slipped, tumbled down a ravine, and broke my leg. I spent the next two months rotting in a hospital bed. I never wanted to feel that rock-bottom desperation again. Getting away from Caleb was the first step. I quickly packed a suitcase and headed downstairs with my ID and passport. Just then, Caleb stormed in, still dressed in his party suit. The moment he saw me, he let out a cold, mocking laugh, snatched my suitcase, and hurled it to the floor. I frowned. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing? Peyton, what the hell are you doing?” he shot back. “How old are you? Still playing the runaway game? What’s next, a suicide note?” He was breathing heavily, his face a mask of disgust. “Are you that childish, Peyton? Trying to threaten me with suicide again?” I patted the dust off my suitcase and asked, word by word, “Who told you I was going to kill myself?” People like him and Fiona, with hearts of stone, lived long and happy lives. I had fought my way back to the land of the living. Why on earth would I throw it away? Caleb just sneered, his eyes dripping with contempt. Fiona, who had followed him in, spoke softly. “Peyton, dear, if you wanted to come to the party, you should have just talked to Caleb. You two grew up together like brother and sister. He wouldn’t have really kept you out.” She paused, her voice taking on a knowing edge. “Using that kind of threat works once, but twice, and you’re just crying wolf.” Her insinuation hung in the air, and Caleb’s expression grew even more hateful. A jumble of memories assaulted me. I suddenly remembered. In high school, after he and Fiona started dating, he became a different person. Furious, I’d left a dramatic note saying I was going to find a river to jump into. The incident terrified his parents. They forced him to break up with Fiona. From that day on, Caleb despised me. He ignored me, refused to speak to me. When Fiona’s friends isolated and bullied me, he turned a blind eye. I looked him straight in the eye and explained, “You’re overthinking it. I have no intention of killing myself. I’m packing to catch a flight to Hawaii.” He laughed, a short, sharp bark, as if I’d just told the world’s worst joke to save face. Fiona tugged on his sleeve. “Caleb, why don’t we just let her come with us? She looks so pitiful like this.” His brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to relent. “No, thank you,” I said again. “I’m going to Hawaii.” Caleb’s handsome face twisted. “You hear that? The lady is going to Hawaii!” “Peyton, this is not the time to be unreasonable,” Fiona sighed, stepping forward to take my arm. In a place no one could see, her perfectly manicured nails dug deep into my flesh. The sharp pain made me flinch, and I shoved her away. Fiona crumpled to the ground, clutching her hand as if mortally wounded, her eyes wide with disbelief, her lip trembling. “Peyton… you…” 3 “Peyton, you’re asking for it!” Caleb exploded, shoving me with even greater force. The back of my head cracked against the corner of a stair step, and a wave of dizzying pain washed over me, blacking out my vision. I could hear his voice roaring over me. “Have you gotten addicted to bullying people?! Being in the same house with an ungrateful viper like you taints the very air! It makes me sick!” Fighting through the pain, I cut through his increasingly venomous tirade. “I’ll move out. You can rest easy.” “You’d better mean it.” All of Caleb’s rage seemed to get caught in his throat. He glared at me, a look of pure hatred on his face, before scooping Fiona into his arms and storming away. I touched the back of my head, my fingers coming away sticky with blood. A strange memory surfaced. When I was fifteen, my relationship with Caleb was nowhere near this toxic. Knowing we were destined to be married, to become a real family, I used to follow him everywhere. He was in his rebellious phase, sneaking off to seedy internet cafes to play games, and I’d tag along. One day, he got into a fight over a game. I tried to intervene and got my hand slashed by accident. In that instant, Caleb had transformed into a feral beast, beating a boy much larger than him until he was crying for mercy. The man who once flew into a rage if I so much as scraped a finger would now hurt me, curse me, and wish me dead for someone else, without a second thought. But it didn’t matter anymore. Once his parents returned, our engagement would be over. I looked at a nearby maid, forcing a pained smile. “Can you take me to the hospital? I can pay you.” A young, new maid looked like she was about to help, but an older servant quickly pulled her back. Their hushed whispers still reached my ears. “Are you trying to get fired?” “Don’t you know how much the young master despises Miss Peyton?” “If he saw you helping her, you’d be out on the street!” The young maid, terrified, glanced at me one last time before scurrying away. I shook my head with a bitter smile and crawled over to retrieve my phone with its shattered screen. Caleb’s parents were away on business most of the year, only home for a few days each month. Caleb was the sole master of this house. He’d told me more than once: I wasn’t a Vance, and my problems were my own. So, no one dared to approach me. Every time I came home, any leftovers were already scraped into the trash. The plates on the table were always empty. Thankfully, I was used to it. I managed to get myself to the hospital. The doctor said I had a concussion and needed to stay for observation for two days. After being discharged, I returned to the Vance estate to pack the rest of my things. The maids watched with cold indifference as I struggled alone. That afternoon, I moved everything into a small apartment I’d hastily rented. It was temporary. Once I had my diploma, a job offer, and the engagement was officially broken, I could leave this place and everyone in it behind for good. On my third day away from the estate, Caleb called. He sounded drunk. “Where are you?” “VIP room A12. Get over here.” I was in the middle of writing my resume, and the interruption was irritating. “Caleb, is there something you need?” The line went silent. Even the boisterous background noise seemed to quiet down. I said “hello” again. When there was no answer, I prepared to hang up. Suddenly, he spoke again. “Peyton, where did you go?” I started typing again, setting the phone on speaker beside me. “Didn’t you say that living in the same house with me made the air feel disgusting?” I said casually. “So I moved out. Don’t worry, I’m not coming back.” The man’s breathing grew heavier, then he let out a sudden, cold laugh. “Peyton, when did you become so obedient? Weren’t you the one who used to cling to me relentlessly?” “Since you’re so damn obedient now, if I told you to leave this city, to get the hell out of my sight, would you do it?!” “Peyton, I don’t care what game you’re playing, but if you keep targeting Fiona, I swear I’ll make you regret it.” My mouse was acting up, and I was focused on the screen. It took me a moment to process what he’d said. Caleb’s mocking voice came through the phone again. “What, nothing to say? Aren’t you tired of these pathetic little games? Apologize to Fiona, and I’ll allow you to crawl back here.” I spoke slowly and clearly. “Fine. I promise you, Caleb. I’ll leave.” And with that, before he could react, I hung up.

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I am a lady’s maid in a world obsessed with perfect pairings. In my last life, my mistress, Lady Arabella, forced me into a marriage with her fiancé’s valet, all “for my own good.” She’d said it with a bashful smile. “My horse is a match for the Viscount’s horse, my dog for his dog… so it’s only right that my maid should be paired with his valet. It will show the world how perfectly matched the Viscount and I are.” The man was a philandering brute who beat me when he was drunk. I was trapped in a living hell. But when I pleaded with my mistress for help, she turned a blind eye. When I finally escaped, she personally dragged me back to that monster’s side. “You are such an embarrassment to me,” she said, her voice like ice. “If you weren’t so defiant, a good man like Sterling would never have laid a hand on you.” In the end, six months pregnant, I was beaten to death. … When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that same moment. Lady Arabella was holding my hand, her face beaming with warmth. “Aurora,” she said, “I have found you the most wonderful match. When you marry Sterling, you can continue to serve me for the rest of our lives.” “You’ve been with me since we were children. I’ve always thought of you as a sister. I am to marry Viscount Langley, so it is only fitting that my handmaidens marry his retainers. It’s a match made in heaven, isn’t it?” My heart seized. A dull ache spread through my chest, and I had to fight to keep my body from trembling. I was reborn. It was the exact same scene as before. Last time, seeing her so delighted, I couldn’t bear to disappoint her and agreed. But my marriage was hell on earth. Sterling was indeed a loyal valet to his master, but he was a degenerate in his private life. Though he kept no mistresses openly, he had a legion of “confidantes” scattered across the city. When he drank, his personality twisted, and he would beat me until I was black and blue. I suffered two miscarriages at his hands. And my mistress, the one who had sworn to be my champion if I ever faced any trouble, ignored my desperate cries for help. “Aurora, you are too headstrong,” she would lecture. “How can a man like Sterling ever love a woman like that? What man doesn’t have a few dalliances? You must learn to be soft, gentle, and submissive if you want to keep his heart.” She had found her perfect match. She and the Viscount were a picture of marital bliss, their love the talk of the town. Meanwhile, I was drowning, tormented daily. With her tacit approval, Sterling grew ever more brazen. The beatings became more frequent, and he would often withhold food as punishment. Through it all, she demanded I plaster on a smile and listen to her tales of domestic happiness. I finally escaped, only to be hunted down by her and her men. She personally returned me to Sterling’s clutches. And so, six months pregnant with my third child, I died under a torrent of his enraged blows. This time, I will not be her pawn. I will not repeat the mistakes of my past. Lady Arabella was still chattering excitedly, pulling me down to sit beside her. She dangled a jade pendant from her waist for me to see, her cheeks flushed. “Look, the Viscount and I have a matching everything. The other day, he gave me a parrot and kept one for himself—a perfect male and female pair.” “And this pendant, it’s a set of a dragon and a phoenix. He has one, I have the other. I was just thinking, perhaps I should buy a male dog to send to the Viscount. It would be a perfect match for my little Snowball, and they could have puppies.” Snowball was a tiny female terrier. My mistress had owned her for three years. Ever since she had met her future husband, every mosquito that flew past had to be paired with one from the Viscount’s estate. She once had four personal maids. Chessie was already married off. Two months ago, she dispatched both Artemis and Calliope to marry two of the Viscount’s other men. One was sent to a desolate border post, never to be seen again. The other’s new husband died in battle a month later. She cared nothing for our wishes, obsessed only with creating these “perfect pairs” with the Viscount’s household. Now, the other maids in the manor were terrified at the prospect of being assigned to her service. Though I already knew the answer, I had to try. “My lady,” I began tentatively, “I am already betrothed. My fiancé, Thomas, and I have been promised to each other since childhood.” “My lady… must I marry Sterling?” The blush on her face faded. She frowned at me, her expression one of utter bewilderment. “That Thomas is just the son of the head butler. What future does he have? How could he possibly compare to the personal valet of a Viscount?” “Besides,” she continued, her tone firming, “I have four maids, and the Viscount has four valets. It’s a perfect set. It is fate. In two weeks, when I am married, you will be married alongside me.” I pleaded with her for three days. At first, she tried to persuade me gently, extolling Sterling’s virtues. By the end, her face was a mask of cold resolve. “Aurora, do not be ungrateful. I am offering you this wonderful match because I am fond of you. As for that Thomas, forget him. I have already asked my mother to arrange a marriage for him with one of her second-tier maids. They will be wed quietly and quickly.” Staring at the woman I had served for more than a decade, a chilling numbness spread through my heart. If she could be so cruel, then I would be ruthless. I had already sacrificed myself for her once in my past life, fulfilling my duty as a servant. This life was for me and me alone. I went to her elder sister, Lady Cordelia. Viscount Langley had originally been Cordelia’s fiancé. But after Cordelia’s mother died, her stepmother—Arabella’s mother—had schemed to swap the betrothals, leaving Cordelia engaged to the Viscount’s younger brother, a notorious rake. While the Viscount was brilliant and respected, his brother was a wastrel. In my last life, Cordelia’s marriage had been miserable. She died in childbirth after delivering a frail baby girl. “My lady,” I said to Cordelia, “I can help you marry the Viscount. On the wedding day, with the help of your maids, we can switch the bridal carriages. Once the deed is done, no one can say a thing. Besides, you were the one who was supposed to marry the Viscount in the first place. This is simply setting things right.” Now that Arabella had married off her other maids, I was the only one she trusted. I knew I could arrange the switch. Cordelia had been living under her stepmother’s thumb for years, simmering with resentment over the stolen betrothal. She considered my proposal for only a day before agreeing. In exchange, she promised to grant me my freedom. We began our preparations for the double wedding in two weeks. On the surface, I continued to serve Arabella as diligently as ever. One day, she sent me to a remote courtyard to pick peach blossoms. “My lady,” I said, confused, “we have peach trees in our own garden. Why must I go to that deserted courtyard?” Her eyes darted away for a second. “Just do as you’re told. The blossoms in this garden are for viewing. No one sees the ones in the old yard, so go pick them for me.” I went as ordered. The courtyard was overgrown and desolate. “Aurora.” A man in a fine green livery stepped out from behind a crumbling wall. It was Sterling. A sly smile played on his lips as his eyes raked over my body. My blood ran cold. My hand clenched into a fist as the horrific memories of my past life flooded back. “Sterling,” I said, my voice sharp. “What are you doing here? Who allowed you into the private courtyards of the manor?” “Why, your future mistress, of course,” he said, his voice smooth as oil. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his smile turning lecherous. “Aurora, we’re to be married soon. Surely you won’t deny me a kiss…” He pulled me into a forceful embrace. Panic seized me. I dropped my basket and struggled wildly. “Let go of me! Get off!” Picking flowers was just a pretense. Arabella had arranged a private meeting for us. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet, freezing me to the core. She was so cruel. Though I was just a maid, I came from a respectable family. I would not endure such humiliation. In my struggle, I bit his arm, hard. Sterling yelped in pain and released me. Then, his face twisted in anger, and he slapped me across the face. “You bitch! How dare you bite me!” Crack. The blow stunned me for a moment. I stumbled back, nearly falling. My cheek was already swelling, hot and painful. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and fled. When Arabella saw me return with a bright red handprint on my face, she frowned, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “What happened? Sterling told me you bit him for no reason. Do you have any idea what a wonderful opportunity I created for you? Why are you so unappreciative?” The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. All that remained was a profound, icy coldness. The answer was perfectly clear. She had never truly respected me. She didn’t see this as a humiliation, as an assault on my dignity. “My lady,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “Sterling tried to force himself on me. That is why I bit him. And I must ask you not to do such things again. It is improper for a man to be allowed into the inner courtyards. If word got out, my reputation would be ruined, but more importantly, it could damage yours.” Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “When two people are in love, isn’t it normal to get carried away? Why must you be so difficult?” She flicked her sleeve in frustration and stormed out. “Fine! I wash my hands of this! No good deed goes unpunished.” The entire manor was abuzz with festive preparations for the two weddings. I was busier than anyone. The wedding gown, the handkerchiefs, the slippers for the in-laws—all the things the bride was supposed to make herself were handed to me. “We are like sisters,” she’d said sweetly. “It doesn’t matter who does it. I trust you more than anyone.” With so little time, I was serving her during the day and sewing late into the night, getting less than an hour of sleep. My eyes were raw and sore. She checked my progress daily, allowing no rest. One day, to my surprise, Thomas came to find me.

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A fire broke out in our apartment building. I woke up choking on smoke to find the apartment empty. Terrified, I called my husband, Ross, only to turn and see him burst through the front door, naked. He swept me into his arms and ran for the stairs. It was then that I saw them: the angry red scratches down his back, the countless dark bruises blooming on his neck. My vision blurred. “Why were you outside?” I sobbed, my pregnant belly tightening with a sharp, painful cramp. Through the chaos of the fleeing crowd, I saw a woman, her own clothes in disarray, clutching Ross’s coat and shoes. I knew her. She was the new secretary at his company, the one with eyes so much like mine. The man who had once treated me as his entire world had cheated. “Mom,” I said into the phone, a call that crossed an ocean, “I’ve decided to immigrate.” It was the final, definitive end for me and Ross. 1 “Doctor,” I began, my voice trembling, “I’m five months along. Is it still possible to terminate?” Ross had been by my side for every single prenatal appointment since I became pregnant. No matter how busy he was at work, he always made time. Now, as I watched his familiar silhouette pacing outside the examination room, a storm of reluctance and grief washed over me, but the question still escaped my lips. The doctor’s hand paused on my stomach. I flinched, and she quickly apologized before asking in surprise, “You want to terminate this pregnancy?” Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she answered thoughtfully, “It’s possible, but we’ll need the father’s signature.” She tried to persuade me, her voice gentle, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Ross’s explanation for that night was that he’d had too much to drink at a business meeting and had stepped outside to be sick, stripping off his clothes in the process. I didn’t believe a word of it. Meanwhile, the story of Ross Mercer, the heroic husband who braved a fire to save his pregnant wife, was everywhere. The internet lauded him as the perfect man. The media dug up our entire love story—childhood sweethearts, married young, the wealthy CEO and his beloved wife. Photos of my priceless diamond wedding gown from our fairy-tale wedding went viral. Overnight, Ross’s love for me became a modern-day legend. I knew the love had been real. But I also knew it was gone. Ross’s heart had already strayed. After the check-up, he carefully helped me out of the room, his voice laced with concern for me and our child. I saw the furtive, cautious glances he kept shooting my way. I pretended not to notice and walked straight ahead. Though I planned to end the pregnancy, I still went through with the routine scans. As we were listening to the baby’s heartbeat, his phone rang. A subconscious glance was all it took for me to see her name: Ashley. He didn’t even wait to hear the rest of our child’s heartbeat, something he’d never done before. He stepped away to take the call. His tone was cold, distant, but I could hear the effort behind it, the careful mask. He frowned and said, “I’ll be right there.” He came back, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, and whispered his excuse. “A major client just arrived at the office. I have to go back for a bit. I’ll come pick you up later to take you home.” The doctor, as always, smiled and praised him for being such a wonderful husband. I just lowered my head, unable to force a smile of my own. After he left, I lay on the examination table, the steady, healthy rhythm of my baby’s heart echoing in my ears. I didn’t wait for him to pick me up. I took a cab home. When he arrived, he launched into his usual routine, trying to charm me, apologizing profusely for abandoning his wife and child for work. But the playful antics and sweet words that used to make me happy now felt hollow and rehearsed. His over-the-top performance was just another layer of camouflage for his betrayal. The more he tried, the bigger his guilt seemed. I gently pushed him away, pretending not to see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and told him to go shower. As the sound of running water filled the bathroom, I stared at his blurred silhouette through the glass and finally made my decision. I sent the message. 【Doctor, I’ve decided to go through with the induction. Please schedule it for me.】 The child I had once anticipated with so much joy was not destined to be mine. If I couldn’t give him a happy, stable family, it was better for him not to be born at all. 2 Ross was laying out his clothes for the next day, a habit of his, his voice a constant stream of questions. “Honey, where’s my black tie?” “Sweetheart, what about my white trousers?” I sighed and went into the closet, finding each item for him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips pressing against the nape of my neck. His heavy breathing felt like a poison seeping into my heart, making my skin crawl. “My love,” he murmured, “what would I ever do without you?” His hands began to roam, but the moment he turned my face to his, he froze. “Ava? Why do you look so pale?” His eyes were still filled with that deep, adoring look, with no hint of insincerity. “Maybe you should come to the office with me tomorrow. I’m worried about you.” I just shook my head, silent. “Are you still angry about that night?” he asked softly. We both knew what he was talking about, but we had an unspoken agreement not to mention it. “No, don’t overthink it,” I said, pushing down the wave of nausea and patting his shoulder. He clung to me for a while longer before finally heading into the bathroom. The second I heard the shower start, I picked up his phone. The password was my birthday. He hadn’t changed it. The chat history was mostly business. On instinct, I opened Ashley’s social media feed. 【Afternoon tea from the boss. So good!】 【On a business trip with the boss today, and he bought me a necklace! Absolutely in love.】 【Who else has a boss that gives them a six-figure bonus for their birthday?!】 Every post was about him. They had been to Paris, Italy, Japan… She had photos from countless landmarks, her smile radiant, her eyes full of adoration. Ross wasn’t in any of the pictures, but I knew he was the one behind the camera. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My gaze fell on his briefcase. From a hidden compartment, I pulled out his second phone. The password was my birthday again. A bitter, sickening feeling rose in my throat. He loved me so much, yet he couldn’t stop himself from straying. I opened his chat with Ashley. The last message was from her. 【After Ava has the baby, will you still be this good to me?】 It was accompanied by a cute, pouting selfie. Ross had replied with a simple, “Yes.” I didn’t have the courage to scroll up. The moment the water in the shower stopped, I turned off the screen and put the phone back. He came out and wrapped me in his arms, whispering the usual sweet nothings, telling me how much he loved me. But my mind was drifting away. Ross, when you say you love me, who are you really thinking of? When you look at me, whose face do you see? Thinking back, I should have known something was wrong the first time I met Ashley. She was practically my clone. At the time, Ross had dismissed it as a coincidence. But then, the calls from his “secretary” became more frequent, the reasons more trivial. A broken pipe, a burnt-out lightbulb, a lost cat, a missing ID… she could summon him with a single, insignificant phone call. He said she was just a young girl trying to make it on her own in the big city. He said she reminded him of me when I was her age. Each time, he would hold me and swear that I was the only one he would ever love. But this time, I couldn’t believe him anymore. His lies, his genuine affection for Ashley—they had become the blades that were tearing me apart. The next morning, I woke to the sound of her voice. I opened my bedroom door to see Ashley and Ross standing at the dining table, playfully arranging breakfast. “Stop it, you,” she giggled. “Boss, feed me!” she pouted, leaning closer. Ross smiled, a look of helpless indulgence on his face, and picked up a small dumpling to feed her. She playfully nipped his fingers, her eyes sparkling with flirtatious charm. He reached out to tickle her, trying to make her let go, and in that moment, our eyes met. 3 He pushed Ashley away instinctively, a look of panic on his face as he rushed toward me. “Did we wake you?” I pretended not to see, just shaking my head. Ashley darted out from behind him, squeezing between us. “Ava, the boss really, really loves you. Look, he went out and bought all this breakfast for you himself. Your favorite crab roe buns and taro cakes.” She pouted at Ross. “All I get are these boring old dumplings. What a mean boss.” She clung to my arm, making a face at Ross, who just smiled, a fond, doting look in his eyes. I stared at her, and the Van Cleef & Arpels necklace around her neck seemed to burn into my vision. The receipt for it was still in the pocket of Ross’s coat. I had once thought it was a gift for me. “It’s alright if the boss isn’t good to you,” I said coolly. “After all, Miss Lee is very good to herself. Buying such an expensive necklace on a whim.” With that, I turned and sat down at the table. The two of them were still frozen in place, one tense, the other still smiling. I couldn’t taste a thing during that breakfast. Before we left for the day, Ross insisted I come to the office with him. I had no interest, but no energy to refuse. But Ashley beat me to it, slipping into the passenger seat and rolling down the window. “Ava, I get carsick in the back. Would you mind sitting back there today?” I looked past her, my eyes meeting Ross’s. All I saw was his discomfort. “Ava,” he started, “Ashley hasn’t been feeling well…” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I just opened the back door and got in. The jolting of the car made my stomach clench, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. I had to grip the handle just to stay upright. In the front, Ross and Ashley chatted and laughed as if I wasn’t even there. “Ava, why are you sweating?” Ross finally noticed me during a red light, turning to look back. I shook my head, pushing through the discomfort. After that, he kept looking back at me, so distracted he even ran a red light without realizing it. The whole world knew how much he loved me. But only I knew that his heart held another woman. Without even being aware of it himself, his heart was slowly, inexorably tilting toward Ashley. The girl who he said was “just like me.” At the office, Ross was constantly by my side, hugging me every few minutes. To any outsider, we looked like a deeply devoted couple, inseparable. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see Ashley’s face, her every smile and frown, filling his thoughts. I was just a tiny, 5% sliver. I felt sick. I made an excuse about needing some air and escaped his grasp. He looked hurt, a wounded expression in his eyes. 【Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen the boss’s wife. She’s so beautiful.】 【I know, right? They’re a perfect match.】 【But she and Ashley look so much alike!】 【Oh my god, is the boss such a romantic that he had to hire a clone of his wife as his secretary?】 I stood a short distance away, listening to the gossip, watching Ashley stare at Ross, her eyes red-rimmed. Our gazes met. Hers was full of resentment. I couldn’t tell if she was resentful about being my replacement, or just being a replacement in general. In the company breakroom, I pushed a freshly brewed cup of coffee toward Ashley. She shook her head. “I’m pregnant.” The coffee cup suddenly felt scalding hot in my hands. I almost lost my balance, but I forced myself to sit down. So, that was why he was always so concerned, so caring toward her. “I don’t know if I should congratulate you,” I said, my voice flat, “because… I’m terminating my pregnancy.” I pushed the surgical consent form and the divorce papers across the table to her. “If you can find a way to get Ross to sign these, his position is all yours.” “Really?” Ashley looked skeptical, her surprise mixed with suspicion. I nodded again. I had no tolerance for this kind of betrayal. A marriage couldn’t hold five people—me, him, her, and our two unborn children. I don’t know how she did it, but a few days later, she sent back the signed documents. I checked them carefully. It was definitely Ross’s signature. Somehow, though, I don’t think he knew what he had signed. On the day of the procedure, my mother flew back from overseas to be with me. “Your brother is back too,” she said. My heart skipped a beat. She was talking about Ethan Jiang, her second husband’s son, my stepbrother. My only childhood playmate. I nodded, feeling a strange unease. I had refused to immigrate with them because of Ross, and Ethan had been so angry he’d blocked me. We hadn’t spoken in ten years. But I didn’t have time to dwell on him. The most important thing now was the termination and the divorce. Fate, it seems, is a mischievous old man who loves a good show. At the hospital, my mother and I ran into Ross, who was there with Ashley for a check-up. Across the crowded waiting room, he saw me.

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Lysander tore up the marriage contract with my daughter to marry a mortal woman. He seized the dowry I had left for her. He even stole my daughter’s Celestial Core, all to grant that mortal woman immortality. On the mortal’s birthday, heedless of my daughter’s life hanging by a thread, he ripped out her Starlight Eyes and presented them as a gift. By the time I clawed my way out of the Maw, my daughter was clinging to life. Everyone in the Empyrean said the War-God was dead, fallen in the great war against the fiends. No one remembered my victories, and no one cared for a poor, orphaned girl. But those pampered celestials, fat on their leisure, had forgotten. Every ounce of their gilded honor was bought with my blood and bone. After five hundred years of being sealed in the Maw, I was finally free. The war had shattered my divine essence, my celestial frame nearly ground to dust. The fiends had thrown their entire race’s power into imprisoning me, certain I would perish. They were wrong. The thought of my daughter, my beautiful, radiant girl, was the one thing that kept me sane. I endured the soul-gnawing agony, the endless torment, and somehow, I survived. The moment I returned to the Empyrean, my only thought was to see her. But the return of a War-God shakes the celestial realm. Protocol demanded I first see the Celestial King and the assembled court. He held a grand feast in my honor, a celebration of my return. Yet, as I looked around the hall, the faces were a gallery of strained masks. There was no joy here. My eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure in a shadowed corner. Lysander, the man my daughter had chosen herself. The Celestial King had decreed their betrothal just before I left. They were surely married by now. I walked towards him, my heart filled with a hopeful ache. “Your power has certainly grown, Lord Lysander. Where is my Elara? Why hasn’t she come to greet me?” His gaze darted away, his head bowed as he mumbled something incoherent. Was he shy, meeting his mother-in-law again? I always said he lacked backbone. The sole heir of the House of the Phoenix, yet he was shortsighted and timid. If Elara hadn’t been so utterly smitten, I would never have approved of such a match. “Lysander, I am speaking to you. You are at this feast, so why is my Elara not with you?” My brow furrowed, a killing frost creeping into my voice. Knowing Elara, she should have been the first to rush into my arms. Her absence was a cold knot of dread in my stomach. He pursed his lips, taking a long moment before answering. “Elara has a fiery temper. We argued recently, and she stormed off in a rage. I’ve sent my people to search everywhere, but there’s been no sign of her…” His words dripped with blame, painting my daughter as reckless and immature. But one thing stood out with chilling clarity: he had merely sent people to look for her. What, then, was he doing? Rage flared in my chest. I drew my blade, its ethereal light shimmering in the grand hall, and pointed the tip at his throat. “I entrusted my daughter to you. How could you let her wander off alone?” But five hundred years had passed, and Lysander had grown bold. He drew Godsbane—the very sword of the War-God, my sword—and met my gaze without a shred of guilt. “Her temper is a storm I cannot contain. She’s spoiled and cruel. If not for my respect for your final request, I would have disciplined her long ago!” “Discipline the daughter of a War-God? You dare?” My blade lunged forward. Lysander sidestepped the attack. “It is your indulgence that made her so arrogant! She torments the palace staff and was cruel to Lila. I warned her many times, but she refused to listen…” Tormenting staff? My Elara was the soul of kindness. She wouldn’t harm a fly. And cruelty to another? Utter nonsense. But that name he mentioned… Lila. It sounded like a woman’s name. “Who is Lila?” At my question, a flicker of something—guilt? unease?—crossed his face. I’ve walked this world for ten thousand years. I knew a lover’s lie when I heard one. He had found someone new and was now blaming Elara for “tormenting” her. “Lysander,” I reminded him, my voice like ice, “you swore an oath to marry my Elara and no other.” I had no more time to waste on him. Finding Elara was all that mattered. Following the faint, thrumming call of my own blood in her veins, I navigated the winding paths of the upper realms, the signal leading me far from the opulent palaces. It led me to a dilapidated hovel in the Bound Quarter, a place for outcasts and servants. Outside the crumbling door, I heard a sharp, venomous voice. “You little bitch, that War-God mother of yours is long dead! Why are you still clinging to life? Just die and get it over with. Lady Lila is tired of us having to deal with you.” War-God mother… That was me. Which meant the person inside… was my Elara. A furious inferno erupted in my soul. I kicked the door off its hinges and stormed inside. The sight that greeted me froze the very blood in my veins. My mind went blank, a roaring void, as if the entire Empyrean had just collapsed upon me. “Elara! What… what have they done to you?” I dropped to my knees, gathering the frail, skeletal figure into my arms. Her life force was a guttering candle flame. Her Celestial Core was gone, and only the single drop of my War-God’s Ichor I’d placed in her heart was keeping her tethered to this world. She lay limply on the crude bed, her face a mask of desolate, vacant despair. This was my child, but a ghost of the girl I knew. When I left, I had arranged everything for her. How had my vibrant, cherished daughter become this broken thing? “…Mother? Mother, is that you?” Elara whispered, her voice a dry rasp. Her hands reached out, fumbling blindly in the air. It was only then that I saw it. My poor, darling girl… her eyes were nothing but hollow, empty sockets. “My child! Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so late.” Tears streamed down my face—I, who had not shed a tear in ten thousand years of bloodshed, was weeping uncontrollably. “Who did this? Who did this to you?” All of Elara’s former vibrancy was gone. She collapsed into my embrace, her sobs weak and broken. Her Celestial Core had been carved out, her Starlight Eyes gouged from their sockets. The Ichor in her chest pulsed with a faint, fading light. Soon, it would be depleted. And then… she would be extinguished forever. My body trembled with a fear I had never known, a terror more profound than any I had faced on the battlefield. “Who are you? How dare you trespass in Lady Lila’s residence?” The shrill, cruel voice sounded again from behind me. Elara gasped for breath, but instead of words, a trickle of blood spilled from her lips. “I have never heard of any ‘Lady Lila’ in the Empyrean,” I snarled, gently laying Elara down and turning to face the servant. “And who gave her the right to torture the daughter of a War-God?” “Hah!” The woman spat on the ground, her face a caricature of smug disdain. “There is only one War-God in the Empyrean now, and that is my Lady Lila’s husband, the mighty Lord Lysander! You? You’re just some imposter trying to cash in on a dead name!” Footsteps sounded at the door. An older man and a younger boy entered. The old man was a vile-looking creature, his words slurring. “H-how dare you! Trespassing in the War-God’s residence! G-guards! Seize this little bitch and this lying hag!” The boy next to him nodded eagerly, puffing out his chest with borrowed arrogance. I could bear it no longer. With a wave of my hand, ropes of pure energy bound the three of them like trussed-up pigs and tossed them into a corner. I immediately turned back to Elara, pouring my divine power into her, doing everything I could to stabilize her fragile hold on life. Behind me, the wails and screams began. It turned out they were a family. “I’m Lady Lila’s own father! You’re in for it now, you old crone! My son-in-law is the War-God of the Empyrean, Lord Lysander himself!” The father’s screeching was grating. My hand flicked. A blade of pure energy shot from my fingertips and pierced his heart. He died before his body hit the floor. His wife and son stared, their eyes wide with disbelief. The boy pointed a trembling finger at me. “You… you killed him! Aren’t you afraid of what my brother-in-law, the War-God, will do to you?” Afraid? There was no one in the Empyrean who had the right to make me afraid. It all clicked into place. These were the family of the mortal, Lila, whom Lysander had mentioned. And Lysander had not only abandoned my Elara for this woman, but he had allowed Lila and her vile family to torture my daughter to the brink of death. I sent another blade of energy forward, but this time, I did not grant them a quick end. My Elara had suffered. A swift death was a mercy they didn’t deserve. “Shut your mouths,” I commanded, my voice low and seething as the killing intent from a thousand battlefields washed over them. “One more sound, and I will unmake you.” The two of them froze, petrified. A dark stain spread across the floor beneath them as their bladders gave way. With a single, sweeping gesture, I obliterated the wretched hovel. I stuffed the whimpering mother and son into a bestiary pouch and, cradling the barely conscious Elara, returned to the Aegis Hall—our home. But as I approached the grand entrance, I stopped, a bitter, mirthless laugh escaping my lips. The place had a new master. The two lanterns crafted from the bones of slain fiends, my trophies, were gone. In their place hung sickly-sweet pink lanterns woven from cherry blossoms. “Where are the Bone-Fiend Lanterns of the Aegis Hall?” I asked a nearby servant, my voice tight. The servant looked me up and down, his expression disdainful. “Lady Lila is compassionate and kind. She could not bear the sight of those macabre things, so they were taken down and sent for purification rites.” He then shot a venomous glare at the girl in my arms. “That Elara tried to stop it. If Lord Lysander hadn’t struck her unconscious and destroyed the lanterns himself, she would have caused an even bigger scene. Truly, a weed that refuses to die. Why did you have to bring her back?” His voice was filled with annoyance, as if he assumed I was just another servant of the hall. The rage that had been simmering within me finally boiled over. My poor Elara, beaten for trying to protect my legacy. I had told her those lanterns were a symbol of my trial to become the War-God. Of course she would defend them. And this Lila… to hell with her compassion. Where was her compassion when the fiends were slaughtering innocents across the realms? “You dare call my daughter a weed?” My voice dropped to a lethal whisper as I advanced on him. I seized him by the throat, my fingers like iron bands. “It is vermin like you who should be stamped out first.” He choked and sputtered, his life slowly crushed out of him by my power. I kicked open the doors of the Aegis Hall, ready to bring my daughter home. But an invisible barrier, a ward, blocked my path. “Since when does my own hall have wards placed against me?” With a contemptuous sweep of my hand, I shattered the shimmering barrier into a thousand pieces. From within the hall, a woman of exquisite, fragile beauty emerged. She was followed by a phalanx of divine guards, who immediately surrounded Elara and me. One of them recognized me. “Aethel… Lady Aethel? Is that you?” Lady Aethel. So, with Lysander now the “War-God,” my old subordinates no longer dared to call me by my true title. “What is this?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Have you come to bar my way?” The guards exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them stepped back. Marcus, a man I had personally raised from a beaten servant to my second-in-command, stepped forward. “My lady, times have changed. This is now the residence of Lord Lysander, the War-God. You were my benefactor, and I don’t wish for this to be ugly. I must ask you to leave.” The breath I was holding finally tore from my lungs in a ragged gasp, and I tasted blood. “In the Great War,” I began, my voice trembling with betrayal, “I stood alone to defend this realm so that all of you could live. You knelt behind me then, swearing oaths to protect Elara with your lives…” I gestured to my broken child. “Now my daughter has been nearly murdered, and you stand here as accomplices to her tormentors?” Marcus’s face was a mask of conflict. He clenched his fists. “Lady Elara’s fate is of her own making. You yourself taught us: we serve justice, not family. If she hadn’t been so arrogant, so cruel to Lady Lila, none of this would have happened…” “Fine,” I snarled, the word ripping from my throat. “Fine. A fine lesson in justice.” Since they all believed us to be the villains, I would show them what true villainy looked like. I unleashed only a fraction of my power, but it was enough. The self-righteous guards who once served me were thrown back, broken and gasping, left with just enough life to feel their failure. “Learn this lesson well,” I spat at their crumpled forms. “This is what it means to throw your weight around.” With them neutralized, I turned my attention to the delicate, tear-streaked beauty before me. This had to be Lila. She did have a face that inspired pity. “Your eyes,” I said with a slow, chilling smile as I stepped toward her and lifted her chin with my fingers. “They are quite captivating. Tell me, do the Celestial Core and Starlight Eyes of a War-God’s daughter sit well within you?” I had felt it the moment I saw her. Within her body pulsed the divine power that belonged to my daughter. She didn’t speak, only let two perfect streams of tears roll down her cheeks before sinking to her knees in a graceful heap. “Lila greets Aunt Aethel,” she whispered, her voice trembling beautifully. “I never asked for the Celestial Core or the Starlight Eyes. If they displease you, Aunt, you may take them back for Sister Elara this very moment. These last few days, I have been tormented by guilt, unable to sleep, for I never wished to take what belonged to my sister… Thank the heavens you have returned. Please, take them back. It would be a release for me…” She closed her eyes, a flawless performance of a martyr awaiting her fate. I was not some fool to be swayed by such a pathetic, calculated display. But just as I reached out to reclaim what was stolen, Lysander appeared. “Stop! Get your hands off Lila!” he roared, his face contorted with fury as he rushed to shield her. “Aethel, you go too far! The Empyrean is no longer your personal fiefdom. I suggest you learn some restraint.” My fiefdom? The absurdity was breathtaking. When the celestial realms were weak and faltering, I was the only one who could lead their armies. A woman, fighting for ten thousand years, who single-handedly drove back the fiends and secured a hundred-thousand-year truce. And now that peace reigned, my sacrifice was twisted into tyranny? There was nothing left to say. Elara needed to be healed. I drew my power, ready for battle. “Lysander, you conspired with others to harm my daughter, to nearly extinguish her life. Today, as her mother, I will claim justice for her!” “Watch your words, Aethel,” he retorted, parrying my initial assault. “I never harmed Elara. Your accusations are baseless.” A coward who wouldn’t even admit to his own deeds. I allowed a sliver of Elara’s fading life force to flare out from my arms. “Look! Look what you have done to my child, and you still dare to deny it?” Lysander faltered for a second, a flicker of shock on his face, and my energy blade scored a deep cut across his shoulder. “How… How could Elara’s life force be so faint? Who did this to you? Who hurt you?” “Oh, spare me the act,” I sneered, my voice dripping with contempt. “I rescued my daughter from a squalid hovel owned by your new War-Godship. It seems the dogs you keep have learned to bite.” My eyes blazed with a murderous light. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. Lysander’s expression hardened. “What hovel?” he demanded coldly. And there it was. He didn’t know. He had no idea that the precious Lila he protected with his life had tried to murder my Elara.

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The world knows me as Empress Seraphina, cherished above all else, the apple of the Emperor’s eye. What the world does not know is that my favorite secret is slipping out of the palace disguised as a young nobleman to watch the artistes at The Gilded Lyre. Today, the Emperor left under a simple guise to oversee drills at the city’s military garrison. Seizing the opportunity, I slipped out once more. I was enjoying the performance from a balcony seat when a lavishly dressed young lord and his retinue of thugs stormed into the hall. “My father’s finally let me off the leash! At last, a chance to see the beauties of The Gilded Lyre for myself!” he bellowed. “What’s this nonsense about ‘artistry, not favors’? I am a lord’s heir! Whomever I desire, I shall take!” This was The Gilded Lyre, where the artistes sold their craft, not their bodies. The sudden intrusion sent a wave of fear through the women on stage. The music faltered, the dancing ceased. The man advanced with a predatory smirk. “My father is the Lord Marshal of the Imperial Cavalry. To be noticed by me is the greatest fortune of your lives. Isn’t being my mistress better than being a common whore?” To have my rare escape interrupted like this… I frowned. Some petty lordling? I am the Empress. 1 The suffocating formality of the palace was a cage, and The Gilded Lyre was my one true sanctuary. Emperor Cassian knew of my little eccentricity and had always turned a blind eye to my visits. But today, just as I was losing myself in the show, chaos erupted below. I stood and peered over the railing. The man leading the disruption, the self-proclaimed heir, had to be Lord Sebastian, the only son of the Lord Marshal, Gideon Valerius. A lecherous grin was plastered across his face, his gaze slithering over the performers like a venomous snake. “The Gilded Lyre truly lives up to its name. These women are a cut above the common wenches in the brothels,” he sneered. “Today, this young lord will show you all some proper affection.” Madam Fleur, the proprietress of the house, was visibly terrified, but seeing the trembling girls on her stage, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward, forcing a veneer of calm. “Ah, Lord Sebastian! What a pleasant surprise to have you grace our establishment today.” “As all in the Capital know, the girls of The Gilded Lyre offer their art, not their bodies. I must ask you not to make things difficult for a humble woman like myself.” Lord Sebastian tore his eyes from the stage and fixed them on her. “You know who I am, yet you still dare to speak to me this way?” he scoffed. “Artistry, not favors? What a joke! When I take an interest in someone, I do as I please. Who are you to object?” He looked back to the stage and pointed a finger at one of the dancers. “You. Come down here. Let me have a proper look at you.” The girl’s face went deathly pale, but she stood frozen, unwilling to move. Madam Fleur took another step forward, blocking his view. “My lord, all the girls here are…” This time, she didn’t finish. Sebastian swung a fist, striking her hard in the chest. She flew backward, clutching her sternum, unable to rise. He glanced at her pathetic form with a contemptuous smirk and nodded to his men. They understood instantly, dragging the terrified girl from the stage and throwing her at Sebastian’s feet. My hands clenched the balcony railing, my knuckles turning white. That man, Gideon Valerius! A decorated war hero, and this is how he raised his son? Beside me, my lady-in-waiting, Lily, saw my grip and shook her head, her brow furrowed with worry. “My lord, you mustn’t. We are already breaking imperial decree by being here in disguise. We cannot afford more trouble.” “If you feel for these women, we can send the Imperial Guard when we return to the palace,” she whispered urgently. “If your identity is exposed, it will put His Majesty in a terribly difficult position.” Lily was my closest confidante. Whenever we left the palace, she called me ‘my lord’ and the Emperor ‘His Majesty.’ I understood her caution. I hesitated, but then Madam Fleur’s cry pierced the air again. “My lord, I beg of you, you cannot do this!” “These are good girls, trying to make an honest living with their talents. If you truly admire one, speak to her with kindness!” I looked down to see Sebastian forcing the young dancer into his arms, his foul mouth moving towards her face. She struggled desperately, but his strength was too much. In the split second before his lips touched her, I could no longer hold back. My voice boomed across the hall. “Stop!” 2 Seeing that scene, I cast all of Lily’s warnings to the wind. I understood her fears, of course, but as the Empress, if I could not protect a few women in a hall, how could I claim to protect the people of an empire? How could I be the Mother of the Realm? My shout drew Sebastian’s attention. His eyes swiveled up to meet mine. “Well, well. It seems we have a white knight for this fair maiden.” Lily tugged at my sleeve, her eyes darting nervously towards the thugs standing behind him. I knew we were outnumbered. Clearing my throat, I projected an air of authority. “I overheard you from my balcony. You must be the heir to the Lord Marshal’s house, are you not?” “A man of your station can have any woman he desires. Why trouble the artistes of The Gilded Lyre?” “Perhaps you could do me the honor of letting this matter rest for today?” Hearing my words, Sebastian released the girl and studied me, a calculating look in his eyes. “Do you an honor? And which noble house do you belong to, pray tell? I don’t recognize your face.” I cursed him silently. Which house? The Imperial House, you dolt! When I didn’t answer, he snorted and looked away. “Can’t even name your house. I suppose your family has no one of rank at court.” “You’re dressed well enough. At best, you’re the son of some lowly merchant. What gives you the right to speak to me?” “Now, get lost before you ruin my mood, or I’ll have you killed.” As he spoke, he reached for the girl again. Madam Fleur scrambled to her feet. Though she was trembling with fear and pain, she shielded the dancer with her own body. “My lord, they are all respectable girls. They came to The Gilded Lyre because they trusted me.” “I beg you, my lord, have mercy. Let them go.” As she spoke, she began to sink to her knees. Sebastian’s face twisted with impatience. He slapped her hard across the face, his voice dripping with venom. “I believe I told you once already. I am a lord’s heir. That I desire them is the greatest fortune of their lives.” “If you cannot understand simple words, then don’t blame me for what happens next.” “You are nothing but a collection of glorified whores, and you dare to bargain with me? One more word out of you, and I’ll have all of you shipped to the garrison to serve as camp whores!” The dancer behind Madam Fleur turned, gave a long, sorrowful look to her sisters on the stage, and then knelt before Sebastian. “My lord, you may do with me as you wish. I have only one request.” “I will go with you, if you will spare my sisters and Madam Fleur.” The girl knelt there, her eyes red and brimming, but she fought back her tears with fierce pride. This display seemed to amuse Sebastian. He grabbed her by the chin, his lust stark and undisguised. “You are in no position to bargain with me!” I could not bear it a moment longer. I rushed down, pulled the girl to her feet, and stood face-to-face with Sebastian, my eyes blazing. “The Lord Marshal fights on the battlefield to protect the people of this empire. Is this the lesson in honor he taught his son?” “You have spent years at his side in military camps. Do you think our soldiers shed their blood on the front lines, defending our homes and families, so that you could terrorize women in their name?” “Does this empire have no laws? Is there no justice?” My words were sharp and clear, but Sebastian only sneered, looking at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his boot. “Laws? A lowly merchant’s son dares to speak to me of laws?” “Fine. Today, I will teach you what the law is!” The moment he finished speaking, his men surged towards me. “My lord!” As Lily cried out, my nobleman’s hat was knocked from my head in the scuffle. A cascade of dark hair tumbled down my back. 3 Sebastian’s anger instantly transformed into stunned admiration. He raised a hand, halting his men. “Well, well. Not a young lord after all, but a lovely little lady.” “For such a pretty thing to play the hero… could it be you’ve taken a fancy to me?” “Come, little lady. I will be sure to treat you very, very well.” He advanced on me, his grin widening into a sickening leer. Lily threw herself in front of me, glaring at him with defiance. Sebastian paused, then reached out and snatched the cap from her head as well. “Just as I thought. No young man could be this pretty. Two little ladies, then.” “And you,” he said, looking at Lily, “you must be her maid. A waste not to enjoy you both.” “My men have followed me out today. It wouldn’t be right for me to have all the fun, would it?” At his words, his thugs swarmed Lily, pulling her away. I lunged to get her back, but Sebastian grabbed me by the waist, his grip like iron. I spun around and shoved him away. “Sebastian Valerius, I am warning you! If you dare to touch a single hair on our heads today, I swear I will have your entire house buried for it!” He showed no fear, licking his lips as his eyes devoured me. “Little lady, you still don’t seem to understand the situation, do you?” “My father is the Lord Marshal, appointed by the Emperor himself. I could marry a princess if I wished. What right does a mere merchant’s daughter have to threaten me?” “You are quite beautiful, I’ll give you that. How about this: if you agree to be my mistress, I will let these women of The Gilded Lyre go. What do you say?” I snapped. I slapped him hard across the face. “Insolence!” The lust in his eyes curdled into pure malice. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “You bitch! You refuse my generosity?” “It is your great fortune that I even look at you, and you dare to lecture me? Who the hell do you think you are?” “You truly don’t fear death, do you? Then watch. Open your eyes and watch what happens to your little maid!” He yanked me forward, forcing my head to face Lily, and roared at his men. “You’ve all been cooped up in the garrison for too long, haven’t you? This little maid is quite a morsel, isn’t she? So soft, so tender. She’s yours.” “Show this little girl a good time.” “I want her mistress to see, to understand what happens when you defy me.” At his command, his men, who had been holding back, rubbed their hands together and closed in. The leader ripped away Lily’s outer tunic. Her pale skin was exposed to the room, and the men’s eyes glinted with a sharper hunger. I struggled with all my might, trying to break free. Strands of my hair were torn from my scalp, but I couldn’t move. Seeing Lily, clad only in her chemise, scrambling backward on the floor in terror, I found my voice and screamed. “How dare you!” “I am the reigning Empress! This is Lily, First Lady of the Empress’s Quarters!” “I’d like to see which one of you dares to touch her now!” 4 The moment my words rang out, Sebastian burst into laughter. “The Empress? If you’re the Empress, then I’m the Emperor!” “The Empress lives in seclusion. Why would she ever appear in a den of vice like this? Who do you think you’re fooling?” “What, you finally realize my father is second only to the Emperor himself? Are you scared now?” As he laughed, his grip loosened. I seized the chance, spun around, and kicked him with all my strength between the legs. He doubled over, gasping in pain. I scrambled to Lily’s side, snatching her torn tunic from the floor and throwing it over her shoulders. Sebastian, his face contorted in agony, pointed a trembling finger at me and roared. “This bitch! Beat her! Beat her senseless! The ungrateful wretch!” His men fell upon us, and a rain of fists and feet descended on me and Lily. She tried desperately to shield me, screaming at Sebastian. “This is the Empress! Are you all truly so eager to die?” “Do you think the law cannot touch you? When His Majesty learns of this, can you possibly bear the consequences?” “Stop! Stop it at once!” Sebastian strode forward and kicked Lily hard in the chest, hissing through clenched teeth. “The law? I am the law!” “You two madwomen seem to have become addicted to your own play-acting. The Empress? Do you even know which way the palace gates face?” He shoved Lily into the arms of one of his men, a terrifying darkness in his eyes. “This little maid is a gift to you all. Have your fun. If she dies, the blame is mine!” Then, his gaze fell on me. He grabbed my hair again, forcing my head up to meet his eyes. “As for you, you should thank that pretty face of yours. Otherwise, you’d be nothing but a toy for my servants as well.” “Come. Serve me well. If you please me, I might permit you to be my mistress.” He started dragging me towards a private room upstairs. I clawed at his face, my nails leaving bloody trails down his cheeks. “Sebastian Valerius, I am the Empress of this realm!” “Send a man to the military garrison right now! The Emperor is there today, inspecting the troops! Tell him I am at The Gilded Lyre, and he will come at once!” “Let Lily go now! If you don’t, when the Emperor arrives, I will make your entire house wish for death!” Cassian knew I loved to slip out of the palace. The mention of The Gilded Lyre would be enough. My scratching had broken his skin. His face turned livid with rage. He threw me to the ground and began kicking me relentlessly. “The Emperor? You dare mention the Emperor, you bitch?” “You should have done your research before starting this farce! If the Emperor were truly at the garrison, why would my father have given me the day off?” “I am a lord’s heir! It’s one thing for you to impersonate nobility in front of me, but to impersonate the Empress? I think you’ve grown tired of living!” Lily’s clothes were nearly shredded, and her terrified sobs echoed through the cavernous hall. I ignored the searing pain in my body and crawled to her, trying to shield her with my own. But Sebastian gave me no respite. He dragged me away from her, his fingers digging into my jaw. “Since you don’t want to join me in the private room, we can do it right here!” His men, grinning, swarmed around Lily, while his own hands began to grope me with desperate impatience. Madam Fleur and the other artistes were kneeling in a circle on the floor, pleading for us. “My lord, please let them go.” “From their clothes, these two ladies are clearly from a wealthy family. What if this causes trouble?” “We beg you, my lord, spare these two girls.” My voice was hoarse as I screamed at Sebastian. “Even if you don’t believe me! Have you considered the possibility—even one in a million—that I truly am the Empress?” “After what you have done to me today, can you bear the consequences? Can your family bear the consequences?” My outer robes were in tatters, my tunic hanging loosely from my chest. I could only cross my arms tightly over myself to keep from being completely exposed. When Sebastian couldn’t pry my arms away, he began slapping me again and again. He seemed to have lost all control. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked around, snatched a porcelain vase from a nearby table, and brought it crashing down on my head. “I’ll bear the consequences? First, you should think about the consequences of impersonating the Empress!” “Impersonating royalty is a crime punishable by the execution of your entire clan! And you dare to impersonate the Empress herself!” “Everyone knows the Emperor adores the Empress! For her, he has even closed the royal concubinate and sworn never to take another consort!” “I’ll tell you what, you bitch. Become my mistress, and you might escape this. Otherwise, I will see every last member of your clan put to death!” The vase shattered. Shards flew everywhere. A warm liquid began to drip down my face. Lily’s bloodcurdling scream tore through the air beside me. “Your Majesty!” And in the next second, another voice, sharp and clear, sliced through the air above The Gilded Lyre. “Make way for the Emperor!” “Make way for the Lord Marshal!”

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For the Memorial Day weekend, I booked tickets to take my whole family on a trip. But when my husband, Ryan, saw the booking confirmation, his face changed instantly. He snatched my phone and tried to cancel everything. The trip was incredibly affordable; I didn’t understand why we couldn’t go. Without any explanation, he locked me in the house and beat me senseless, screaming, “Let’s see you try to run off to a place like that again!” I was locked up for three whole days, dizzy with hunger. When I finally managed to steal his phone to call my parents for help, my father, who had always doted on me, slapped me across the face. My mother grabbed a broom and beat me again, cursing under her breath. “No, we can’t let her go to that place!” “We have to break Chloe’s legs, just to be safe!” I didn’t understand why they were doing this to me. I struggled with all my might, but they caught me and hacked off my legs with an axe. Staring at my amputated stumps, my heart turned to ash. My parents cheerfully brought me home to “recover.” I stared at them, my eyes burning with hatred, and demanded to know what was so wrong with that place. Their faces stiffened. Then, they pushed me out of the tenth-floor window. My body shattered on the pavement. I died instantly. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of the Memorial Day weekend. 1 My husband, Ryan, had just come home from work and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Work has been insane lately. I haven’t had any time for you.” “This long weekend, wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Okay?” The familiar voice in my ear snapped me back to reality. I instinctively broke free from his embrace and frantically fumbled for my phone. I flipped it open. The date read: May 23, 2025. I had been reborn. And I was back on the first day of the holiday weekend. In my past life, Ryan had been buried in work. So when the holiday finally came, I was thrilled to plan a family trip. I had told him about my plans beforehand. He hadn’t seemed strange at all then; he’d happily agreed. He even took three extra days off to extend our vacation. He had been looking forward to this trip. But the moment I bought the tickets and booked the hotel, he had only to glance at the reservation details before his entire demeanor shifted. He’d snatched my phone and, without a word, started canceling the tickets. Confused, I assumed he was worried about the cost. “Honey, I heard this place is a great value for tourists,” I’d explained quickly. “It won’t be too expensive.” He ignored me and continued tapping on the screen. Annoyed, I grabbed my phone back. In response, Ryan punched me squarely in the face, roaring, “What the hell were you planning to do in a place like that?” In three years of marriage, he had never been so furious. I was terrified, my body trembling uncontrollably. I clutched my face, my voice shaking. “What do you mean, ‘a place like that’? It’s just a state park. What do you think it is?” But he wouldn’t listen. He locked me in the house and beat me. “Let’s see you try to run off there again!” he’d snarled. For three days, he held me captive, confiscating my phone. I was starving and dizzy. When he went to take a shower, I stole his phone and called my parents for help. They rushed over. But when they arrived, Ryan wasn’t scared at all. He looked at me with pure defiance. My mother hugged me, crying, while my father grabbed Ryan by the collar. “It was just a trip! Why did you lock Chloe up?” Ryan didn’t answer. He just handed my phone to my dad. The moment my father saw the booking information, the color drained from his face. He looked at me in horror, his hand trembling as he struck me across the face. My left cheek swelled instantly. My mother cried out, shielding me. “What are you doing, you old fool?” “Chloe just wanted to go on a little trip! Do you have to hit her for that?” My father ground his teeth and showed the phone to my mother. My mother, who had been protecting me just a second ago, froze as if struck by lightning. After a long moment, she shoved me away. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a broom, and started beating me with all her strength. “You wretched thing! We raised you for nothing!” “Tell us! Why did you want to go to a place like that?” My mind was a whirlwind of confusion. “Mom, what are you talking about? What is ‘a place like that’? Just tell me!” She didn’t answer, just glared at me with hatred and said to my father, her voice grim, “We can’t let her go.” She paced back and forth, her mind racing. Then, an idea seemed to strike her. “Let’s just break her legs. Then she’ll never be able to leave the house again.” My eyes widened in terror. My whole body shook. The destination was just an ordinary state park. Why did the sight of the tickets make them react as if they were facing an invading army? I saw them coming towards me with an axe. I scrambled to my feet and ran, but Ryan tackled me, pinning me to the floor. I sobbed, asking them what I had done wrong. They didn’t answer. They stuffed a rag in my mouth and then, with a knife and an axe, they started hacking at my legs. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. I struggled, begging them to stop. But they were like demons from hell, ignoring my pleas. They severed my legs completely, bone and flesh, leaving a pool of crimson on the floor. I fainted from the agony. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. They had amputated what was left. My parents smiled as they put me in a wheelchair and took me home. I screamed at them hysterically. “Why? Why would you do this to me?!” My mother’s face turned grim. My father slapped me. “You ungrateful wretch! All our efforts on you were wasted!” I stared at them, stunned. A moment later, my mother let go of my wheelchair, and I was rolling towards the open tenth-floor balcony. “Since you’re so ungrateful, you might as well die!” she yelled. I plummeted, my body shattering on impact. But by some cruel miracle, I didn’t die instantly. As I lay there, my breath a faint whisper, desperately trying to call for help, Ryan appeared. The man who had once loved me deeply. He knelt down and choked the last breath from my body. Even in death, I didn’t understand why the booking confirmation made them want to kill me. But now, I have another chance. This time, I will find out the truth. 2 With that thought, I immediately turned off my phone. Last time, I had willingly told Ryan about the booking. So this time, if I just canceled the tickets before he found out, everything would be fine. But I hadn’t expected that simply turning off my phone would arouse his suspicion. He feigned a pout. “What’s wrong, honey? Got something on your phone you don’t want me to see?” My heart leaped into my throat, but I forced a smile. “That’s right. A secret message from my lover next door. Can’t let you see that.” Ryan chuckled and pulled me into another cloying embrace. “So, is this lover of yours coming on the trip with us?” “If you don’t mind, I could invite him along.” “You dare!” Ryan playfully pinched my nose, a hint of jealousy in his tone. “I don’t even know where we’re going, and you’re already planning to bring someone else? You’re unbelievable!” I put on my usual playful pout. “A secret destination is the best part of any surprise trip. Don’t worry, you’ll love it!” He smiled, stroking my hair. “Alright, alright. I’m eager to see where my dear wife is taking me.” “I’ll tell you after my shower,” I said casually, grabbing my phone and heading for the bathroom. The destination was one I had carefully chosen. I’d barely seen any negative reviews online. Still, I decided to cancel the tickets in the bathroom first, and then do a deep dive to figure out what the hell was wrong with that place. But the moment I stepped into the bathroom, a cold dread washed over me. I had grabbed the wrong phone. I immediately opened the door to swap them. But it was too late. I saw Ryan staring at a brightly lit screen, his expression unreadable. He was looking at my phone. The moment he saw me, he started walking towards me. I instinctively tried to run, but he grabbed my arm in a death grip. Before I could say a word, he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You could have gone anywhere! Why did you have to pick a place like that?” I couldn’t understand how the man who had been so gentle and loving just a second ago could transform into this monster at the sight of a booking confirmation. The malice in his eyes was something I had never seen before. I was trembling with fear, but a plan quickly formed in my mind. I dropped to my knees, feigning submission. “Honey, I really didn’t know we couldn’t go there. If you don’t want to go, I’ll cancel the tickets right now!” “How about we go somewhere else for the holiday? We could go to the Grand Canyon! We could hike, see the sunset!” But my words didn’t placate him. They only made him angrier. “You had the thought, and now you dare talk to me about another trip? Are you trying to run away?” He advanced on me menacingly, reaching out to grab me. I dodged his hand and fled desperately to the balcony. Looking down at the people milling about below, an idea struck me. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help! Somebody help! Domestic abuse! He’s trying to kill me!” It was just after work hours, and many people were out for a walk in the complex. My cries drew their attention. I immediately climbed over the railing, half my body dangling over the edge, and pleaded with Ryan. “Honey, I just wanted to go on a trip! If you don’t want me to go, that’s fine! Why are you trying to kill me?” Ryan gritted his teeth. “You bitch! Shut up!” he roared. He wanted to drag me back inside, but the building’s security team had already broken down our door. Several guards forcibly pulled him away. “Can’t you two talk things out?” one of them urged. A dozen or so elderly neighbors had gathered to watch the spectacle. “He looks so respectable, but he’s a violent beast!” “His wife just wanted to go on a trip. What’s the big deal?” “I bet he’s just too cheap to pay for it!” “Being cheap is no excuse for violence! Someone call the police!” Ryan’s fists were clenched, his face dark as he stared daggers at me. But with so many eyes on him, he couldn’t do anything. Then, as if a thought struck him, a cruel smile touched his lips. He immediately pulled out his phone and called my parents. 3 My parents squeezed through the crowd at the doorway. Their faces were grim as they took in the chaotic scene. My mother rushed to my side, her voice a soothing balm of fake comfort that sent a chill down my spine. The security guard and the neighbors quickly filled them in on what had happened. My father stormed over to Ryan and grabbed his collar. But before his fist could land, Ryan held out my phone. My voice trembled as I screamed, “Dad, don’t look!” But it was too late. He had already taken the phone and glanced at the screen. He froze on the spot. My heart sank. I turned to run. But my father suddenly looked up at me, the concern on his face melting away into pure disgust. He raised his hand and slapped me hard. “You wretched thing! What the hell were you planning to do in a place like that?” I broke down, sobbing, but still demanded to know. “What’s wrong with that place? It’s just an ordinary state park!” “State park? You’re still playing dumb?” Seeing him raise his hand to hit me again, my mother quickly shielded me. “What is wrong with you, you old fool? Are you crazy? Our daughter just wanted to go on a trip!” At that, my father sneered. “A trip? Ha! If she still considered us her parents, she wouldn’t be going there for a trip!” “This little bastard! We should just kill her and be done with it!” His words stunned everyone in the room. They couldn’t understand why a father would speak so cruelly to his own abused daughter. My mother was trembling with rage, but she knew my father wouldn’t curse me for no reason. It had to be the tickets. “Give me Chloe’s phone!” I rushed to stop her, dropping to my knees and begging. “Mom, I swear, the place I was going is just a normal park.” “If you don’t want me to go, I’ll just cancel the tickets! Please, just don’t look!” Seeing me so desperate, my mother’s eyes filled with pity. She held me close, comforting me. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s just a trip. I’m sure your father and Ryan are overreacting.” “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure everything is alright.” But I couldn’t risk my life on a gamble. I fought her desperately. “No, Mom, I’m begging you, don’t look! If you look, you won’t want me as your daughter anymore!” The more I resisted, the more curious she became. She patted me gently, her voice soft, as she took the phone from my father’s hand. “Don’t be afraid, Chloe. No matter what happens, I will always protect you.” She looked at me with what she intended as reassurance. My heart turned to ash as I watched her look at the screen. Sure enough, the loving pity on her face vanished, replaced by a cold fury she couldn’t hide. I trembled, instinctively trying to flee, but she grabbed my wrist. Her voice shook slightly. “It’s alright, Chloe. If you want to go on a trip, then go. I won’t stop you. Is your luggage packed? I’ll take you to the train station right now.” She was smiling, but her eyes were like ice. It was the mask of a hypocrite. I yanked my hand away. “No! I’m not going! I don’t want to go!” But her expression was cold, her glare venomous. “You’ve already booked the tickets. How can you not go? The train leaves in an hour. We have to go now.” She gave my father a look. He scowled and reached for me. I grabbed the arm of a nearby security guard and fell to my knees, pleading. “No, I can’t go! If I go with them, they’ll kill me! Please, save me!” The guards hesitated. In the end, this was a family matter. It was difficult for outsiders to interfere. The neighbors who had gathered to watch couldn’t tell if I was mentally unstable or if my parents and husband were the problem. Seeing no one stopping them, my parents grew bold and grabbed me, their voices laced with warning. “Chloe, you’re coming with us right now.” “Don’t delay things any further. It won’t be good for anyone.” I struggled and screamed, my cries heartbreaking. Finally, the woman who lived next door seemed to realize something was deeply wrong. “She said she doesn’t want to go! Why are you forcing her?” But my mother shot back, “We are her parents. If we say she goes, she goes. It’s not your place to interfere!” The neighbor was silenced. Ryan took the opportunity to pin my shoulders, tying my hands and feet with his belt. My parents joined in, preparing to drag me out of the apartment like an animal. The neighbors, however well-intentioned, didn’t dare get involved in another family’s business, especially when my parents and husband looked so menacing. Just as they were about to drag me into the elevator, a tall figure blocked their path. “Wait! You can’t take her!” Seeing the person who had arrived, I think I finally knew the secret behind why they wouldn’t let me go on that trip…

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I was on my way home from a late shift when I stumbled upon a livestream of myself. In the video, I was walking alone down a dimly lit street. The title read: [Randomly Escorting a Stranger Home] But the live comments were a cesspool of filth. [Look at the way she walks. I bet she’s going commando. Somebody toss a coin and see if she picks it up.] [Walking alone this late? Gotta be a hooker. Streamer, ask her how much for the night.] [What a coincidence. I just had her tonight.] [Streamer, get a shot of her apartment number when she gets home. Any of you guys wanna form a party?] Watching the gift animations explode across the screen, the streamer was practically vibrating with excitement. He aimed the camera squarely at my form-fitting skirt. A wave of pure ecstasy washed over me. Perfect. I’d finally hooked a soul to take my place. 1 I was born under a dark sign. A psychic once told me my lifeline was tragically short. Because of that, I’ve lived my life in a cage of caution. I avoided cliffs and deep water, stayed away from rooftops, and never touched a sharp knife. I never jaywalked and always steered clear of crowds. I even got a full medical check-up every single year since I was born. I figured that with such vigilance, I could probably live a long, peaceful life. But three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer. I don’t smoke. No one in my family does. And every previous medical report showed my lungs were perfectly healthy. Typically, cancer cells need time to grow. With my frequency of check-ups, logic dictated that either a previous test was wrong, or they should have caught it in its early stages. But no. My first diagnosis was terminal. After a storm of tears, my parents finally accepted it. This was my fate. But fate isn’t something you have to accept. Isn’t there a saying? “To defy destiny.” My situation was beyond ordinary remedies. So, they immediately tracked down Mr. Corbin, the same psychic who had read my fortune all those years ago. At first, Mr. Corbin just shook his head, refusing to help. He said that every soul’s time is recorded on Death’s ledger. To forcibly extend a life is like secretly adding a weight to the great cosmic scales; when the accounts don’t balance, there are consequences. The only way was to steal life from another. He scooped a handful of rice and let it spill onto his desk. “You see this? This granary of rice is the total sum of human life in the world. If I take an extra handful for you, some other family’s pot will be short. For you to live, someone else must die.” This is what’s known as finding a scapegoat. But the method was unconscionably cruel. Psychics like him already feared revealing the secrets of the cosmos; meddling with destiny was a line they dared not cross. My parents went to beg him every single day, showering him with gifts of expensive liquor and cash-stuffed envelopes. Eventually, their desperation moved him. He took a long drag from his pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Stealing a life is a wicked thing,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But as they say, some people dig their own graves. If the soul you take is one who brought about their own doom, perhaps the heavens will look the other way.” 2 Mr. Corbin had strict requirements for the scapegoat. To lure such a person, I took a night-shift job, forcing myself to walk home at two in the morning every day. The problem was, the city had gotten too safe. I’d been at it for almost three months without so much as a single catcall. So tonight, I’d chosen to wear a particularly provocative dress. I recognized this streamer. A few days ago, he’d started a series on escorting strangers home at night, and it instantly became a viral hit, netting him a ton of new followers. He called it ‘escorting,’ but it was really just stalking. His targets were always young women walking alone, so his audience was a predictable hive of creeps. They’d get off on making lewd jokes in the chat, fantasizing about the women on screen who, completely unaware, were having their home addresses broadcast to the world. If a woman noticed and got scared, their panic only made the audience more thrilled. It was like an exhibitionist’s high—the bigger the victim’s reaction, the more excited they became. And if a girl was bold enough to confront him, he’d just claim he was a passerby and taunt her. “Do you own the sidewalk?” So, despite the outrage from many women, no one could do a thing about him. I swayed my hips and turned into a deserted alley. The men in the chat went wild, as if they’d all popped a little blue pill. [With my vast experience, I can tell you that slut is doing it on purpose.] [She’s practically sending an invitation. Streamer, what are you waiting for? Make your move!] [Are you man enough for this? If not, let me take over.] [Don’t make me drop a Rocket Ship on you.] Viewers were flooding in. In the blink of an eye, the count broke ten thousand—a record he’d never reached in his three years of streaming. He could feel a hot rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Alright, brothers, keep those gifts coming! We’re gonna try something new tonight. Drop a Porsche, and you can place an order!” Someone asked what ‘placing an order’ meant. He chuckled. “Placing an order means… you tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” The chat instantly erupted. 3 [Porsche sent! I want to see what’s under that skirt!] [I’m sending a Yacht! Strip her naked!] [Can a Rocket Ship get us something really wild? You know what I mean.] The streamer’s breathing grew heavy. He stared at the ever-increasing donation amounts, his throat tightening. He quickened his pace, his voice trembling with a feverish excitement. “Don’t you worry, my brothers. Tonight, I promise you’ll get an eyeful…” He hurried to catch up. This area was a demolition zone, surrounded by the skeletal remains of torn-down buildings. Only a single, lonely bungalow stood in the middle of the rubble. There wasn’t another soul for at least a mile. The chat roared with encouragement. [This place is perfect.] The streamer rubbed his hands together, gleefully announcing that he was about to start serving the first ‘dish.’ Just then, a user named ‘Oracle_Descendant’ started spamming the chat. [STREAMER, DON’T GO IN. SHE’S A SOUL-THIEF.] [YOUR LIFE IS ALREADY BEING STOLEN.] [WALK BACKWARDS OUT OF THERE NOW. DON’T TURN AROUND. DON’T LOOK BACK.] In the dead of night, these messages were a sudden chill, and the streamer scowled. Others saw it too and quickly piled on. [Who’s this little punk? Get lost.] [Yeah, and I’m the reincarnation of Zeus.] [Probably some self-righteous little snowflake thinking she can scare us off.] [I’ll believe you if you come lick my boots, sweetheart.] Oracle_Descendant: [I’m telling the truth. She had the aura of death when this started, but ever since you entered the alley, her life force has been growing stronger. You must have walked into a Seven-Point Soul Trap.] [If you don’t believe me, look at the sides of the path. See if there are any burnt-out candles or ash.] At that moment, a gust of wind blew a piece of yellow, ash-like paper spinning past the camera. The streamer froze. He quickly panned the camera to the side of the path. Lining both sides of the dirt path, spaced about a yard apart, were the stubs of three burnt-out incense sticks at each interval. [HOLY SHIT.] [Could it be real?] The streamer’s fat, greasy face turned a ghastly white. 4 His voice shaking, he typed, “Then… then can you see how much of my life has been stolen?” [Huh… that’s strange. Your life force hasn’t decreased.] The streamer let out a sigh of relief. [Tch… what a liar.] [First, you say his life is being stolen, then you say it’s not.] [Are you just here to mess with us?] The boisterous mood in the chat quickly drowned out the creeping horror. But standing alone in the dark, skeletal demolition site, he still felt a chill crawling up his spine. The thought of quitting had already taken root. Better to get flamed by his audience than to lose his life. Just then, someone typed: [I know this place. They just started demolition a little while ago. Those incense sticks are from a ritual the developers did before they started construction.] [If you don’t believe me, check the news.] He dropped a link into the chat. The news article showed a photo of a demolition site, and sure enough, there was a single house standing in the middle. The article explained that the ‘holdout’ was a young girl whose entire family had died in a car crash, leaving her as the sole survivor. As for why she was holding out? Too many people had struck it rich from demolitions in the past, so the policies had become much stricter. They used to compensate based on square footage, but now it was a flat rate per person: a 35-square-meter housing credit plus a few thousand dollars in compensation. A large family might be able to get a two or three-bedroom apartment out of it, but for a single person like her, it was barely enough for a tiny studio. She’d probably have to pay out of pocket to cover the difference, not to mention furnishing it. Forget getting rich; she was likely to lose money. She worked in another part of the city and didn’t normally live there, but when she heard the demolition crew was coming, she’d moved back overnight. The streamer’s fleeting fear vanished after reading the news. His confidence surged back. The chat was getting rowdy again, urging him to get on with the show. [Don’t be a wimp, bro. Here, I’ll send you a Lion to give you some courage.] The flashy animation of the Lion gift exploded across the screen. The streamer grinned from ear to ear. If it was all just a misunderstanding, then he had nothing to fear. “Alright, brothers,” he announced. “Let the show begin!” He strode purposefully toward the small house.

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