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The transmigrators took over my body but failed to conquer the heroine's heart. — Transcript

by ALICE · 12,567 words · 1,905 segments · language en · Watch on YouTube

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0:00I discover the world has been punched
0:01through, riddled with holes like a civ.
0:03All kinds of transmigrators, rebirthers,
0:05and conquerors take turns occupying my
0:07body. They act like dogs, graveling and
0:09begging for a single glance, a crumb of
0:11pity from these so-called heroins. They
0:13use my identity as a top conglomerate
0:15heir to commit every foolish act
0:16imaginable. I shake my head and sigh.
0:18These people truly cannot tell the ace
0:20from the Joker. Rather than lower
0:21yourself to be a s, why not stay on top
0:23and teach them who's really in charge?
0:25Watching yet another trans migrator get
0:27erased, I speak with arrogant
0:28confidence. Care to make a bet? Send me
0:30back. Within 3 months, I can make every
0:31target fall for me. Arrogant, a mere
0:33insect. I sneer coldly. Yet your 10
0:36carefully chosen saviors. Never even
0:38touch the hem of their targets clothes.
0:39After a brief dead silence, the system
0:41agrees. 48 hours. Fail phase one, and
0:43you will suffer 10 times worse than
0:45them. Deal. A flash of white light. I
0:47slowly open my eyes on a large bed. I
0:49walk to the mirror. The young man in the
0:51reflection is pale as death, and the
0:52wrist still marked with scars left by
0:54one of the transmigrators who cut
0:55himself for those ladies. How utterly
0:57repulsive is that? at how those fools
0:59treat my own body. Young master, the
1:00master asked you to. The butler begins.
1:02Before he finishes, a glass jar filled
1:04with paper cranes explodes right past
1:06his ear. Another transmigrator folded
1:08these one by one to please those women.
1:10Of course, they were never delivered. I
1:11walk down the spiral staircase, stepping
1:13on shattered glass. In the dining room,
1:15my father reads a financial report
1:16without looking up. He has long given up
1:18on this suddenly ruined son. He no
1:20longer wishes to speak with me. I hear
1:21you're arranging my withdrawal from
1:23school. Morris Academy, the ultimate
1:25cradle of power and wealth in state A.
1:27Everyone who graduates from Morris holds
1:28the lifeline of the entire continent.
1:30Being expelled means being cast out by
1:32the Sinclair family entirely. Last place
1:34in class C. The board has decided.
1:36Please grant me one last chance. Next
1:38month's exams, I will take back that
1:39position. Father lifts his eyes. The
1:41hand holding the newspaper trembles
1:42slightly. The presence before him feels
1:44far too familiar. His tone is
1:46conflicted. Even if you once trust me
1:48one last time, if I fail, I will
1:50voluntarily surrender all inheritance
1:52rights and shares and cut all ties with
1:53the Sinclair family forever. Father's
1:55gaze locks onto me before him, finally
1:57dissolving into a heavy sigh. One final
1:59month, the luxury sports car pulls up at
2:01Morris Academy. I push open the door and
2:03look up at the massive motto stone at
2:04the entrance. 3 years ago, I was the
2:06most brilliant star of Morris Academy,
2:08and I personally inscribed the school
2:09motto onto this very stone. Well, well,
2:12look who it is. If it isn't our young
2:14master Sinclair, a curly-haired boy
2:16steps forward, jabbing the tip of his
2:17pen maliciously into my back. Heard you
2:19shamelessly crashed the Langley banquet
2:20last week, and Miss Langley's bodyguards
2:22tossed you out like garbage straight
2:24into the pool. How did it taste? Oh,
2:26right. I heard you also touched Miss
2:27Harrington's piano. Ha haha. And they
2:29threw you out along with the piano
2:30itself. Haha. [laughter] The systems
2:32voice rings out. Phase one mission
2:34raised the emotional fluctuation level
2:35of target subject, Norah Harrington, to
2:3750. Norah Harrington, heir to the
2:39Harrington family, one of the eight
2:40great conglomerates, the youngest
2:42musical saint in all estate, A, and a
2:44music fanatic. Mission time limit, 47
2:46hours 59 minutes. A flicker of mockery
2:49flashes in my eyes. Thrown out of a
2:50piano room. Those are the conquerors you
2:52picked. They truly are useless. Whether
2:54you're one of them or not, that remains
2:56to be seen. Piercing laughter erupts
2:57around me. I smile softly, but it never
2:59reaches my eyes. Crack. A slap so crisp
3:02it stops the heart silences the entire
3:04crowd instantly. The curly-haired boy
3:06clutches his face. eyes wide with
3:08disbelief. His right cheek swells red
3:10before everyone's eyes. I shake out my
3:12hand so ugly as if I've merely brushed
3:14away a speck of dust. You dare hit me?
3:16The boy trembles with rage. You think
3:18you're still the Ethan Sinclair from 3
3:20years ago? You're just a piece of trash
3:22abandoned by the Sinclair's garbage. He
3:24lunges at me with clawing hands. I
3:25sidestep slightly, missing me, he loses
3:27his balance and crashes to the floor in
3:29a humiliating heap. From the surrounding
3:31crowd comes a chorus of sharp inhales.
3:33Is this really the same trash Ethan
3:34Sinclair everyone used to mock? I lean
3:36down slightly, grabbing him by the
3:37collar and forcing his face upward.
3:39You've wasted three precious minutes of
3:40mine. What are you going to give me in
3:41return? That's enough. A voice, clear
3:43and cold as a mountain spring, cuts in
3:45without warning. Lero Whitlock stands a
3:47few steps away, radiating an aura that
3:49keeps everyone at a distance. As
3:51director of the student council
3:52disciplinary committee, the Iris badge
3:53on her chest seems even colder than
3:55usual. Target subject detected. LRA
3:57Whitlock. Initial affection level 70.
3:59Her slender fingertips flip through the
4:01thick stack of my disciplinary records.
4:03I fold my arms, letting my gaze roam
4:05boldly across her. LRA feels my piercing
4:07stare, and behind her glasses, her brows
4:09furrow imperceptibly. 13th count of
4:12disturbing campus order, fifth count of
4:14violent conflict. She draws out her pen
4:16and signs the disciplinary notice with a
4:18decisive stroke. Mr. Sinclair, according
4:19to school regulations, the student
4:21council has the authority to expel you.
4:23So strict and impartial, Miss Whitlock,
4:24far from afraid, I step closer, wearing
4:26an almost provocative langanger. My
4:28fingertips brush lightly against her
4:29impeccably pressed uniform, tracing
4:31faint circles along the front, landing
4:33precisely just below her collar bone,
4:34the very spot where I once left a faint
4:36bite mark. There is eyes darken. Just as
4:38she raises her hand to shove away the
4:39shameless touch, an aggressive, icy,
4:41cold cedar scent rushes into her
4:43nostrils without warning. Her pupils
4:45contract sharply. This scent belongs
4:46only to the real me. Seeing this, the
4:48crowd erupts in louder gasps and murmurs
4:50as if witnessing something unbelievable.
4:52LRA whips around, looking down. She
4:53grabs my wrist almost roughly and slams
4:55me hard against the cold gilded motto
4:57stone. Her voice is low, dangerous,
4:59meant for only us to hear. You don't
5:01deserve to wear this scent. Get back to
5:02your class Z. If I catch you once more,
5:04I'll throw you out of this academy
5:05myself. Target LRA Whitlock. Affection
5:07level 80. Hearing the mockery in the
5:09systems mechanical voice, I feel no
5:11unease, no anxiety. On the contrary, the
5:13lower her affection, the better the
5:15news. It means she loathe these trans
5:17migrators who have occupied my body. The
5:19moment I step into the class C
5:20classroom, the air seems to freeze.
5:22Everyone turns to look at me. The events
5:23at the school gate this morning have
5:25already spread throughout the entire
5:26academy. Complicated stairs come at me
5:28from all sides. Disgust, contempt, and
5:30curiosity. I ignore them all, walking
5:32straight to my corner seat. Hm. Quit the
5:34act. You're just a piece of trash about
5:36to be expelled. Class monitor Lily mocks
5:38me loudly on purpose. She is one of the
5:40admirers of Leo, the curly-haired boy I
5:42slapped that morning. You're ugly. My
5:43steps pause. I slowly turn around. Cold
5:46sweat instantly soaks Lily's back,
5:47unwilling to back down. How could she
5:49let a piece of trash intimidate her with
5:50just one look? Did I Did I say something
5:52wrong? She raises her voice, trying to
5:54shake off the eerie chill. A toad
5:56lusting after swan meat all day long.
5:58Haha. Graveling before those ladies in
6:00everyone's eyes, you aren't even a
6:01clown. Suddenly, a pen grazes past her
6:03cheek and embeds itself deep into the
6:05wall behind her. Lily's voice cuts off
6:07mid-sentence, less than half an inch
6:09from her temple. The entire room falls
6:10dead silent. I prop my chin on one hand,
6:13idly spinning another pen with my other
6:14fingertips. Sorry, my hand slipped. It's
6:17It's fine, Mr. Sinclair. The class bell
6:19rings. The little episode ends. This
6:21period is financial investment class. An
6:23old professor past 60 teaches it. Now
6:25hand in the assignments from last class.
6:26It is merely a routine collection. For
6:28class C students, the professor holds no
6:30real expectations. The others hand in
6:32their reports one by one. He barely
6:34glances at them. Compared to what class
6:36S produces, the difference is like
6:37heaven and earth. This assignment was
6:39given to him by President Ashford,
6:40intended to supplement the Ashford
6:42family's crossber acquisition plan in
6:43state C. But the submissions collected
6:45are nowhere near as good as Vivian
6:46Ashford's own plan. He has to admit in
6:49his decades long career, Viven is the
6:51second genius he has ever seen. And the
6:52first one, the professor glances at the
6:54corner of the classroom where I am
6:55scrambling to finish my assignment. The
6:57most financially gifted person he has
6:59ever met in his life was the 18-year-old
7:01me. The one who lifted the Sinclair
7:02family from a hollow shell on the verge
7:04of decline up to the position of the
7:06four great houses beneath the eight
7:07great conglomerates. The acquisition
7:09report I wrote at 18 is still passed
7:10around and studied within the industry
7:12today. Only such a genius. Ethan, do you
7:14not plan to hand in this assignment
7:15either? I do not lift my head. My
7:17fingertips move across the complex
7:19financial data, reports, and equity
7:21structure charts at astonishing speed,
7:23faster than anyone would believe.
7:24Irritated by my complete disregard, the
7:26professor frowns and steps down from the
7:28podium. But when he reaches my side, he
7:30freezes, his face filling with shock. I
7:32set down the pen and lightly slide the
7:33paper forward. The report, covered in
7:35complex symbols, slides right in front
7:37of him. He lowers his eyes to look, and
7:39his pupils contract sharply. The dense
7:41derivations and arrows on the page point
7:42precisely at the most hidden flaw in the
7:44acquisition case. A fatal trap that even
7:46Vivien Ashford overlooked. Not only have
7:48I found it, I have written a small note
7:50beside it in red pen. Reverse
7:51shortselling. Leverage 1 to 15. Net
7:54profit margin 300%. This is not an
7:56assignment at all. It is a threat
7:58notice. If I follow this plan and
7:59interfere with the Ashford acquisition,
8:01the losses to the Ashford family would
8:03be incalculable. The professor's hand
8:05trembles uncontrollably. He snaps his
8:07head up, staring at me in disbelief. You
8:09How could you possibly? I lift my eyes
8:10lazily. What, professor? Do you think
8:12there's something wrong with my
8:13solution? The temperature of the entire
8:15classroom plummets. Everyone holds their
8:17breath. Even Lily clamps her hand over
8:19her mouth, not daring to make a single
8:20sound. What does this report mean? It
8:22means I have used only one class period.
8:24No, not even a full period. To shatter
8:26the acquisition plan the Ashfords were
8:28so confident about. The professor's face
8:30shifts through one expression after
8:31another. He carefully folds the paper.
8:33His voice is horse. I will hand this
8:35report to President Ashford in person. I
8:37let out a quiet laugh. As you wish. Hey,
8:39the student council office. An assistant
8:41carefully sets down a thick stack of
8:43documents. President Ashford, these are
8:45the reports from class C through class
8:46Y. Vivien does not lift her head, her
8:48gaze locked on the financial model
8:50before her. Class C through Y is merely
8:52background noise. She assigned this
8:54problem because of a lingering sense of
8:55unease she cannot shake, but every
8:56report has told her that she is
8:58overthinking it. The Asheford ship is
8:59sailing smoothly toward its intended
9:01waters until the professor bursts into
9:03the office. That calm is broken. He has
9:05even forgotten the courtesy of knocking.
9:06President Ashford. The professor's voice
9:08carries a faint tremor. Please, you must
9:10see this. Vivian's slender fingers
9:12pause. She takes the thin sheet of
9:13paper. The moment her gaze touches the
9:15page, the air seems to freeze. The
9:17report's deductions are precise to the
9:19point of cruelty. Like a dagger plunged
9:21straight through the layout she was so
9:22proud of. Class C. Ethan Sinclair. The
9:24professor's voice is thin as a
9:25mosquitoes. Vivien freezes for a moment.
9:27This name is not unfamiliar to her. 3
9:29years ago, I sat in the very seat she
9:31now occupies. Yet almost overnight, I
9:33seemed to become a different person.
9:34falling from the clouds into the mud,
9:36shifting from the rival she desperately
9:37chased and sought to surpass into the
9:39very kind of person she despised most.
9:41This report, "Have you been figning
9:42dormcancy for these past three years,
9:44Ethan?" The entire morning passes in a
9:45surface calm that hides churning
9:47undercurrens. The dismissal bell rings.
9:49A staff member wearing a student council
9:50badge on her chest, walks under the
9:52breathless airs of everyone into the
9:53classroom and heads straight to my
9:55corner. Ethan Sinclair, President
9:56Ashford, invites you to her office for a
9:58conversation. I give her a cold, brief
10:00glance. Tell Vivian Ashford if she wants
10:02to see me, she can come herself. have
10:03her come in person. The entire class Z
10:05falls into utter silence. At dusk, I
10:07walk toward the school gate toward the
10:09understated hard-edged black sedan.
10:10Inside the car, Bennett, the Sinclair
10:12family's head butler, respectfully hands
10:14over a white towel. Young master, please
10:16clean your hands. Master Sinclair and
10:17Miss Helena are both waiting at the main
10:19residence. He enunciates Miss Helena
10:21with unusual clarity. My hand pauses
10:23midwife. That distant cousin of mine who
10:24has gradually taken my place during my
10:26absence. The family's intent is
10:27glaringly obvious. The atmosphere in the
10:29hall is heavy. Father sits at the head
10:31with several family directors seated on
10:33either side, their eyes filled with
10:34scrutiny and doubt, and the most
10:36striking figure is the one standing
10:37beside Father Helena. In this moment,
10:39her gaze rests calmly and unwaveringly
10:42on me as I walk in. You're back. Father
10:44is the first to break the silence. The
10:45corners of my lips lift slightly. I
10:47calmly sweep my eyes across everyone in
10:49the hall. Judging by this setup, you
10:50were all waiting for me. In father's
10:52eyes lies a faint helplessness and
10:53heaviness. By the board's decision,
10:55effective today, Helena will temporarily
10:57assume all your rights and duties within
10:59the family. as the family head before
11:01the collective interest of the family.
11:02Even personal feelings must give way. My
11:04three years of absurdity have stripped
11:06him of too much say. One month from now,
11:08father's voice carries an unyielding
11:09finality. If you cannot place in the top
11:11three at the Morris Academy monthly
11:13exam, Helena will formally take over
11:15everything. Helena speaks up at the
11:16right moment. The reports of your recent
11:18disturbances have already reached the
11:20board. The one month the family had
11:21secured for you comes with a condition
11:23that you behave. The hall falls dead
11:24silent. The directors exchange glances.
11:26Father says nothing. I suddenly let out
11:28a soft laugh. My tone laced with
11:30undisguised mockery and disdain.
11:32Temporary custody. I've never liked
11:34anyone touching what's mine. My gaze,
11:36sharp as the finest blade, drives
11:37straight into Helena's deep eyes. For
11:39this one month, if you dare to lay a
11:40finger on anything or pull any tricks
11:42behind my back, I will kill you with my
11:44own hands. A cold killing intent sweeps
11:46through the hall like an icy current. My
11:48duty is to protect the interests of the
11:49Sinclair family. Nothing more. The next
11:51day, mission time remaining, 23 hours 55
11:54minutes. The price of slacking on your
11:56mission. A small punishment. A faint but
11:58undeniable current shoots through every
12:00limb, every bone. It is a warning from
12:02the higher dimension. Punishment for
12:03slacking on the mission. I scoff. A
12:05knowing glint flashes in my eyes. Losing
12:07your patience already. It seems even
12:09higher dimensional beings have their
12:10weaknesses. Ignoring the discomfort in
12:12my body, I walk composedly through the
12:14grand gates of Morris Academy. Mr.
12:16Sinclair. A voice clear as snowcapped
12:18mountain water sounds from behind me.
12:20The noisy air around me falls instantly
12:22silent. My steps pause slightly. I turn
12:24around slowly. Vivien Ashford walks
12:26through the crowd which parts of its own
12:28accord approaching me. She wears the
12:29academyy's pure white uniform, but on
12:31her it looks like royal regalia. In
12:33every movement flows the true ancient
12:34nobility, a bearing and presence refined
12:36over a thousand years. I mock the system
12:38inwardly. Its taste and targets is sharp
12:41indeed. President Ashford honors me with
12:42a visit. I raise a brow, meeting her
12:44unfathomable eyes. What matter of such
12:46importance brings you here in person.
12:47Vivian's lips curl into a perfect but
12:49utterly cold smile. Mr. Mr. Sinclair, I
12:52find yesterday's financial report of
12:53yours most interesting. Would you honor
12:54me by joining me at the student council
12:56office for a talk? I meet her with an
12:58equally perfect false smile. How could I
13:00refuse? Under countless gazes, woven
13:02with every kind of emotion, I follow
13:03Viven into the tower that represents the
13:05very core of the academyy's power, the
13:07student council tower. The luxury and
13:09pressure of this place remain unchanged
13:10from when I ruled it 3 years ago. Yet, a
13:12faint, unfamiliar coldness now lingers
13:14in the air. Mr. Sinclair, I dislike
13:16wasting time on indirection. You should
13:18know very well what your report means to
13:19the Ashford family's core project of
13:21many years. The meaning is clear. Viven
13:23stands before the massive floor to
13:24ceiling window. Her back to the morning
13:26light. She turns around. I hope you will
13:28keep the contents of this report
13:29entirely confidential, ensuring the
13:31Ashford project proceeds smoothly. She
13:33pauses. I can grant you one condition.
13:35It is a transaction and also her
13:37confidence in controlling the situation.
13:38President Ashford, your promise sounds
13:40rather expensive, enough to match the
13:41vast plan the Ashfords have poured their
13:43hearts into. Vivien's brows knit almost
13:45imperceptibly, asking for the moon. She
13:47snears inwardly, calculating the price I
13:49might name, and preparing contingencies
13:51should extreme measures become
13:52necessary. However, I shift my tone. The
13:55corners of my lips curl into a
13:56breathtaking arc. This secret I can
13:58indeed keep sealed for you. Vivian's
14:00gaze sharpens. What do you want? I lean
14:02forward slightly, my smile carrying open
14:04teasing and aggression. I want to make a
14:05bet with you. Let's bet on who takes
14:07first place in next month's exam. I
14:08savor the ripple that flashes through
14:10Viven's eyes and toss out a heavier
14:11stake. The stakes. If you lose, the
14:13position of student council president
14:15goes to me and you become my companion.
14:17An uncontainable disgust and biting
14:18mockery spread through Viven's heart
14:20like poisonous vines. So in the end, it
14:22always comes back to this. All that talk
14:24of return, talent, danger. The final aim
14:27is still this body and that filthy
14:28delusion. Target Vivian Ashford.
14:30Affection level50. Yet my smile does not
14:33waver in the slightest. My gaze is that
14:35of the most discerning buyer carrying
14:36the pure appraisal of merchandise.
14:38Openly, unhurriedly, I measure Viven
14:41from head to toe once again in fine
14:42detail. Vivien feels every part of my
14:44gaze. It is not affection. It is not
14:47obsession. It is a purely cold
14:48objectification. The scrutiny of one who
14:51sees her as a chip on a table as a
14:53trophy to be claimed. The silence in the
14:54office is terrifying. Only two pairs of
14:57eyes clash without a word, colliding in
14:58the air, throwing off invisible sparks.
15:00After a long while, Vivien finally
15:02speaks, her voice carrying a piercing
15:04cold. Okay, she accepts. But that does
15:06not mean she is willing to sell herself
15:08for profit. Her fate stems from an
15:10absolute confidence in her bones. One
15:11that crushes everything. She believes I
15:13cannot win. Even if I am gifted beyond
15:15compare, even if I suddenly awaken, the
15:17gulf left by three lost years cannot
15:19possibly be crossed in a mere 2 weeks.
15:21The summit I once knew in her eyes is
15:23nothing more than a milestone along the
15:25road. As for the rumors that I have been
15:26lying dormant for 3 years, she pays them
15:28no mind. In these three years, I have
15:30buried not just my own reputation, but
15:32the vital upward path of the entire
15:33Sinclair family. Such a devastating
15:35price paid merely for a period of
15:37dormcancy. Utterly absurd. And if you
15:39lose, Viven's voice carries the cold
15:41weight of judgment. Her eyes lock onto
15:43me like a hawk on its prey. I look as
15:44though I have long foreseen the ending.
15:46I lift a faint smile, carrying the
15:48resolve of one who has burned every
15:49bridge. I will treat this report as if
15:51it never existed, and I will not touch
15:53the Asheford acquisition plan by even a
15:55thread. I will withdraw from Morris
15:56Academy permanently, and never step into
15:58the line of succession of the eight
16:00great conglomerates again. No. Vivien's
16:02shadow falls fully over me. I want you
16:04to kneel at Morris Academy beneath the
16:05motto stone in the central plaza before
16:07every student and teacher and confess
16:09with your own lips the stupidity and
16:10vileeness of these three years and the
16:12sickening obsession you have held for
16:14me. Then you will get out of Morris
16:15forever out of state a and never set
16:17foot here again as long as you live.
16:19There's not a trace of fear in my eyes.
16:20My pale cheeks flush with a sickly red
16:23from sheer excitement. An invisible
16:24contract is sealed between us. On the
16:26gambling table lie supreme power, family
16:29future, personal freedom and a cold,
16:31humiliating trophy. You seem excited. By
16:33my analysis, you do not have full
16:35confidence in beating her. That is
16:36precisely what makes it interesting,
16:38isn't it? I dislike bets without any
16:40thrill. Mission time remaining, 15 hours
16:4243 minutes. Along with a sharper pain
16:44from the system, I glance up at the
16:46clock on the classroom wall. 30 minutes
16:47remain until dismissal. If I miss the
16:49school window, reaching the Harringtons
16:51to complete the mission will not be
16:53easy. Morris Academyy's East Wing domed
16:55concert hall. Norah Harrington, the most
16:57inscrable of all the targets, a pure
16:59artist who has sacrificed her soul
17:00entirely to music. I've told you this is
17:02not a place for you. Every word is
17:04drenched in weariness and dismissal. I
17:06act as if I did not hear her. My gaze
17:08sweeps past the piano lid, landing on
17:10the yellowed sheets scattered across it.
17:11Dense notes cover the pages, scrolled
17:13over beyond recognition. Correction
17:15marks, deletion lines, angry strokes,
17:17and scratches, all crowded together in
17:18chaos like a soul writhing wildly in a
17:21swamp of despair. Measure 47. Resolving
17:23an A major 7th into an A minor dominant
17:267th. You've revised it 17 times. You
17:28tried augmented sixths, diminished
17:30sevens, even the whole tone scale, and
17:32still you're not satisfied. Tell me,
17:34what are you trying to express? My hand
17:36rests lightly on her shoulder. My voice
17:37is like a siren from myth, enchanting
17:39the soul. Target subject, Norah
17:40Harrington. Emotional fluctuation level
17:4335. Get out. Norah's voice pushes
17:45through clenched teeth, trembling on the
17:46edge of her limit. At this moment, she
17:48is digging her fingers hard into her
17:49knee beneath her dress. So hard that it
17:51seems she's trying to use physical pain
17:52to suppress the storm surging in the
17:54depths of her soul. I do not step back.
17:56Instead, I move half a step closer,
17:58extending my fingertips, slowly tracing
18:00across the cold, tense back of her hand.
18:02Music does not lie, nor a Harrington.
18:04Let me guess what flows through that
18:05melody. Is it fear? My voice lands like
18:07a hammer. Is it violence? My fingertip
18:09presses down slightly. Is it a loathing
18:11that goes into your very bones? The
18:13final words I nearly whisper against the
18:14cold curve of her ear. Norah's body
18:16trembles violently. She jerks to pull
18:18her hand back, but I press firmly on her
18:19pulse. No, it isn't. Her horse denial
18:21breaks into pieces, sounding more like a
18:23morning cry. You loathe this piano. You
18:25loathe these damn notes. You loathe the
18:27radiant musical genius that others see
18:29in you, Norah Harrington. My gaze
18:31pierces through her trembling shoulders
18:32as if looking straight into her soul at
18:34the little girl curled up in the
18:35darkness. My voice becomes suddenly
18:37perfectly clear, carrying a final
18:39absolute cruelty. It is all because of
18:41your mother, that once in a century
18:42pianist. Because of her, you touched
18:44music. Because of her, you wore the
18:46crown of the prodigy child. And because
18:48of her, you hate every chain and every
18:50shadow the piano has cast on you. That
18:51is why you will never be able to finish
18:53it. My gaze returns to the ruined sheet
18:55music scattered across the expensive
18:56piano. My voice carries mockery. This
18:58reququum your writing for her departed
19:00soul. Target subject Norah Harrington.
19:02Emotional fluctuation peak. 85. Mission
19:04complete. Norah's cry of anguish
19:06overlaps with the systems cold
19:07mechanical voice. So pain too is a form
19:10of emotional fluctuation. Norah's pupils
19:12contract sharply. This was her last
19:13remaining thread. Her attempt to comfort
19:15her mother's spirit and save herself.
19:17With a sharp rip, those pages carrying
19:19all of Norah's love, hatred, and
19:21struggle are torn ruthlessly in my hands
19:22into countless fragments drifting
19:24through the air. Time seems to freeze
19:25completely in this instant. Dead
19:27silence. Norah's mouth hangs open, but
19:29no sound will come from her throat. Her
19:31eyes lock onto the last scrap of paper
19:32between my fingers. The final pillar
19:34holding up her crumbling world collapses
19:36with a thunderous crash. My voice is ice
19:38right now. Aren't you dying to tear me
19:40to pieces and bury me with your ruined
19:41score? Get out. The horse syllables
19:43force their way through Norah's clenched
19:44teeth. Every syllable hides a fury on
19:46the verge of eruption. The final
19:48restraint before madness. One more step
19:50and she would drag the man before her
19:51down with her into destruction. I walk
19:53around Norah's stone stillill figure
19:54toward the silent ancient Steinway
19:56beneath the spotlight. I lift the piano
19:58lid smoothly with the grace of drawing
19:59back a curtain. No, don't. Norah lunges
20:01at me, aiming straight from my throat.
20:03Just as her fingertips are about to
20:04touch me, my fingers strike a single
20:06key. Ding. A single note pure as the
20:08first thaw of a snowcapped mountain
20:10carrying an impossible depth pierces the
20:12concert hall in an instant. Norah seems
20:13to slam into an invisible wall of sound,
20:16stumbling half a step back, her knees
20:17crashing hard onto the cold marble
20:19floor. In shock, her gaze locks onto the
20:21figure at the piano. The fury in her
20:23eyes is replaced by a deeper, more
20:24bewildered horror. The notes flow deep
20:26and slow, steeped in a grief beyond
20:28words. Light and shadow blur, long
20:30buried memories surged forth. She was
20:32nine that year. The only piano final she
20:34ever lost. A raging fever burned her
20:36throat with every breath. The world
20:37twisted and spun. Only the endless fear
20:39and cold of failure remained. She struck
20:41three wrong notes. All because of that
20:43damned illness. All because she was so
20:45weak. How disappointed would her mother
20:46be? That woman who had pressed all her
20:48ambition and unfulfilled dreams onto her
20:50small shoulders. Then came footsteps,
20:52very soft, hesitant. And then the faint
20:53click of a piano lid being lifted
20:55carefully. And then this very melody. It
20:57was like a clumsy but infinitely gentle
20:59hand trying to smooth away her fear and
21:01her pain. Feverish and dazed. She wasn't
21:02even sure who was playing. She only
21:04remembered the longlost sense of shelter
21:05that Melody gave her. Afterward, she
21:07tried countless times to capture its
21:08shape on the keys and always failed. Yet
21:10now it flows so clearly from my
21:12fingertips. Across long, cold years, it
21:14pierces her heart with perfect
21:16precision. My voice is a cold verdict.
21:18This melody was written by your mother
21:20before that bet. For as long as Norah
21:22can remember, her mother was the
21:23brightest star on the continent. Until
21:25Norah was seven, when her mother lost a
21:26bet, one that cost her a permanent exit
21:28from the world of art. From then on, she
21:30became cold and frenzied, turning all
21:32her ambition and unfulfilled dreams into
21:34a crushing chain, pressed onto her
21:36daughter's tender shoulders. Day after
21:37day, year after year, the keys became
21:40instruments of torture. Talent became a
21:41curse. She became a tool to fulfill her
21:43mother's ambition. So her mother too
21:45once loved the real her. The one who
21:47could fail, get sick, feel fear, not
21:49merely a cold vessel that carried
21:51talent. Norah's scalding tears burst
21:53forth like a broken dam, falling in
21:54heavy drops. Target subject Norah
21:56Harrington. Emotional fluctuation peak
21:5897. The final notes echo drifts through
22:00the dome, fading into silence. I rise
22:02and walk toward the heavy carved wooden
22:04door. Wait. From behind me, Norah's
22:06voice comes. horse as a summer crow. I
22:08do not look back. My tone is flat, yet
22:09it carries an unquestionable command. I
22:11hope you let me hear the real reququum
22:13you finally write. Mission completed.
22:14Well, thank you for the praise, but
22:16there is little smile in my eyes. This
22:18feeling of being held by the throat is
22:19truly unpleasant. As a reward, you may
22:21ask me for one favor. For example,
22:23cheating on your monthly exam. The
22:25mechanical voice carries no inflection,
22:27but the mockery between the words
22:28pierces my senses precisely. No thank
22:30you. Deep in my eyes lies an absolute
22:32indifferent confidence. But there is one
22:34thing I do need your help with. Erase
22:36the scars from my wrist. After treatment
22:38with priceless medicines, those scars
22:39have faded, now resembling a lifelike
22:41thorn tattoo. An eyes sore. I will
22:43erase, piece by piece, every mark those
22:45clowns left on my body. I hope you won't
22:47regret this choice. Warmth spreads
22:48across my wrist. The thorn tattoo slowly
22:50fades away. Thank you. In the student
22:52council office, Vivien sits behind the
22:54wide desk, her fingertips tapping
22:55absently against the mirror smooth
22:57surface. That faint, steady tapping
22:59betrays a stillness she does not truly
23:00feel. Pull up Ethan Sinclair's
23:02disciplinary records for me. Standing
23:04not far from the desk, LRA Whitlock's
23:06motion of setting down a file pauses
23:07almost imperceptibly. Disciplinary
23:09records. LRA's voice carries a faint,
23:11careful probing. His illustrious record
23:13over the past 3 years. No one knows it
23:15better than you. When did you start
23:16taking such an interest in him? Vivian
23:18catches in her tone a hint of
23:19displeasure aimed at the order itself.
23:21Instead of that, I'd rather ask you when
23:23did you start reacting to matters
23:24concerning him so strongly. I'm merely
23:26curious. A class Z reject about to be
23:28expelled. What value could he possibly
23:29hold to be worth your precious time
23:31flipping through such meaningless trash
23:32files? Vivien meets Lara's cold
23:34examining gaze. Currents surge deep
23:36within her eyes. Perhaps because he no
23:38longer feels the same to me. Different.
23:40Even Viven, always the composed one,
23:42says, "I've changed." LRA's gaze returns
23:44to Viven to that flawless face, trying
23:46to read more from the subtlest
23:47expression, but finds nothing. The
23:49Sinclair family's red luxury sports car
23:50is parked in the center of the main
23:52residence's courtyard. I lean against
23:53the door, my fingertips lightly brushing
23:55the wrist that has just been cleared of
23:57its old disgrace. Before the massive
23:58floor to ceiling window of the second
24:00floor study, a tall, slender figure
24:02stands like a cold, lonely silhouette,
24:03perfectly still, Helena's gaze is fixed
24:05firmly on the figure in the center of
24:07the courtyard. I raise my eyes through
24:08the deepening dusk. Our gazes meet. I
24:10lazily lift my right hand, index and
24:13middle fingers pressed together and fire
24:14an invisible bullet toward the figure
24:16behind that second floor window. The
24:18gesture carries an insufferable
24:19arrogance. Then I look away from the
24:21window, turning to walk straight toward
24:22the main door. Almost the moment I step
24:24inside, the sound of high heels drifts
24:26down the spiral staircase. Helena
24:27descends the stairs at a measured pace.
24:29It has been 4 hours and 28 minutes since
24:31Morris Academy dismissed. She lifts her
24:33left wrist slightly, glancing at her
24:35watch. From the academy to here at
24:37normal driving speed, excluding typical
24:39congestion, the margin should be within
24:4015 minutes. You should have arrived at
24:42least 3 and 1/2 hours ago. Where did you
24:44go? I tilt my head slightly. The mockery
24:46at the corner of my lips deepens. My
24:47gaze sweeps insolently across Helena's
24:49tight jawline and pressed lips. Oh,
24:51since when do my whereabouts need to be
24:53reported to a temporary custodian like
24:54you down to every last detail, Helena?
24:57It's my duty. Every word lands with
24:58weight. For instance, preventing you
25:00from indulging in worthless personal
25:01entanglements or committing foolish
25:03acts. Personal entanglements. Foolish
25:05acts. I repeat Helena's words in my
25:07mind. Indeed, for the filthy things
25:08those fools committed, that assessment
25:10is generous. I don't slow my steps, only
25:12as I brush past Helena, I give her one
25:15utterly cold glance. You may rest easy.
25:17My voice holds no trace of emotion. I
25:19only went to the cemetery to visit
25:20someone. In the instant we pass each
25:21other, deep within Helena's amber eyes,
25:23something ripples faintly. To the
25:25cemetery to visit someone. In the study,
25:27a rare seriousness enters my eyes.
25:28Today, I have sealed a bet with Viven,
25:30and the next monthly exam is only 2
25:32weeks away. I have looked at her
25:33results. Over the last 3 years, nearly
25:35perfect scores across every subject.
25:37Mathematics, physics, chemistry,
25:39biology. Those cold logical symbols and
25:41natural laws remain firmly etched in my
25:43memory. The official languages of the
25:44four continents I mastered before I
25:46turned 15. The foundations of
25:47humanities, history, and art I had
25:49solidified before 18. Even after losing
25:51three years, the framework in those
25:52fields remains unshakable. I need only
25:54some review to handle this exam. Only
25:56two subjects worry me. Politics. Morris
25:58Academyy's politics papers are never
26:00wrote textbook dogma. They test one's
26:02grasp of shifting global affairs. Before
26:04I was pulled into that void, the
26:05continent was divided into four powers.
26:07In state A, the eight great
26:08conglomerates held power. The undisputed
26:10hegeimon in territory, economy, and
26:12military. In state B, the ancient royal
26:14family had ruled for 200 years. 3 years
26:16ago, new aristocratic forces were
26:18springing up like mushrooms after rain,
26:20stirring restlessly. Now, is it the
26:22royals last flare or the crowning of new
26:23kings? I have no idea. State C and D are
26:26the weakest, bound together in an
26:27alliance for self-preservation. Has that
26:29three-year-old alliance grown tighter,
26:30or has it long been quietly torn apart,
26:32infiltrated by the newcomers of state A
26:34or state B? The gaps in that crucial
26:36intelligence are like walking
26:37blindfolded along the edge of a cliff.
26:39Finance and investment are equally
26:40deadly. 3 years is enough for former
26:42titans to collapse and for nobody's to
26:44climb to the top. Which corporations
26:46have risen during my absence, becoming
26:47new pillars or new threats which
26:49established conglomerates see with
26:50internal currents teetering on the edge
26:52of collapse. 2 weeks in just 14 days I
26:55must catch up on 3 years of upheaval in
26:56the continent's political and financial
26:58landscape. Time is the most precious
27:00thing I have right now. I skipped the
27:02morning music appreciation class and
27:03instead gather recent materials in the
27:05Sinclair study. For me, not a single
27:07second can be wasted. The moment I step
27:09through the heavy carved archway of the
27:10central courtyard, a figure blocks my
27:12path with perfect timing. It is a staff
27:14member from the disciplinary committee.
27:15The silver badge on her chest reflects a
27:17cold light in the sun. She holds a thin
27:19sheet of paper, her face set in
27:21professional formality, yet deep in her
27:23eyes hides a barely visible tension.
27:24Ethan Sinclair, your cumulative absences
27:27have reached the 50 class limit. This is
27:29the expulsion notice personally signed
27:30by Director Whitlock. Please sign to
27:32receive. The air seems to freeze for an
27:34instant. Expulsion, I repeat softly. My
27:36smile shatters the composure the staff
27:38member is struggling to maintain. Her
27:40earlobes flush red beyond her control.
27:42She avoids my direct gaze. The director
27:44requests that you come to her office
27:46immediately to complete the paperwork. I
27:47lightly take the thin sheet between my
27:49fingers. My smile deepens. Expulsion.
27:51Lero Whitlock. So, this is how you open
27:53a game. Interesting. Petty cleverness
27:55through rule loopholes ends here. Let's
27:56see how you plan to please a prey that
27:58despises you to the core. Phase two,
28:00mission activated. Bring target subject
28:02Litlock's affection level to 30. Mission
28:04time limit 72 hours. the disciplinary
28:06committee director's office. The staff
28:08member stops at the door and knocks.
28:09Enter. Lra Whitlock sits behind the wide
28:12desk. She still wears that immaculate
28:13white uniform. The iris badge on her
28:15chest, symbol of the disciplinary
28:17committee glints coldly. Seeing me, her
28:19expression does not shift in the
28:21slightest. Still that same rigid
28:23business-like face. You'd never guess
28:24her affection level is at 80. Mr.
28:26Sinclair, please sit. The procedure
28:28requires your personal confirmation and
28:29signature. I do not sit down right away.
28:31Instead, I take the expulsion notice,
28:33lay it gently on the polished desk, and
28:35slide it toward her. My eyes hold the
28:36undercurrent between us. Director
28:38Whitlock. My voice carries no emotion.
28:40This gift is rather sudden. LRA's gaze
28:42falls to the notice. Academy rules. 50
28:44absences trigger automatic expulsion.
28:46She is calm, unshaken, as if stating an
28:48objective fact. I am merely the enforcer
28:50of the rules. Please sign, Mr. Sinclair.
28:52I will personally handle the record
28:53sealing and departure procedures. She
28:55gestures politely, pointing to the blank
28:57space in the bottom right corner. Rules
28:58are just chains used to bind those
29:00insects with no voice. The corner of my
29:02lips curves into a mocking arc. I lift
29:03the coffee cup on her left, the one
29:05still steaming with an air of deliberate
29:07intimacy. I take a light sip of the deep
29:09brown liquid. Machai Island beans, I say
29:11suddenly, my voice still gentle with 1ml
29:14of maple syrup. The corner of my lips
29:16lifts into a chilling smile. Didn't you
29:17tell me yourself that you hated this
29:19flavor most of all? How do you know
29:20that? LRA's calm mask shatters
29:22instantly. Her hand clamps down on my
29:24wrist like an iron vice. Her serene,
29:26disciplined face, for the first time
29:27twists with violent emotion. Rage, fear,
29:30every kind of feeling churns wildly in
29:31her eyes. And in the deepest core of
29:33that whirlpool, there is something
29:34forcefully restrained. A feeling far
29:36more surging and burning than the rest.
29:38Who exactly are you? Let go. The
29:40office's heavy door at some point has
29:42already been pushed open. Viven's gaze
29:44sweeps across the disheveled floor.
29:45LRA's twisted expression, and the hand
29:47clamped around mine, finally settling on
29:49LRA's face. Deep within her fathomless
29:51eyes churns a cold warning. You LRA
29:53whips her head around, brows knit tight,
29:55but her grip on my wrist tightens
29:56instinctively. What are you doing here?
29:58Vivien does not answer. She simply steps
30:00inside. Her gaze rests calmly on LRA's
30:02clenched hand. Do not expel him for now.
30:04LRA's pupils contract sharply. She draws
30:06in a deep breath. Her gaze sharp as a
30:08blade. You mean to interfere with the
30:10disciplinary committee's affairs for his
30:11sake. Vivien's lips curve slowly into
30:13the faintest, coldest arc. I'm sorry I
30:16must. Her voice is soaked with a
30:17finality that brooks no argument. At
30:19this moment, two clear, unhurried knocks
30:21ring abruptly through the tense, silent
30:22office. Oh my, how lively it is in here.
30:25Norah Harrington stands at the doorway,
30:27graceful and at ease, as if merely
30:28passing by. Nora, LRA's brows knit
30:31tighter, her voice carries a sharp
30:32irritation at being interrupted and a
30:34threat of weariness. What brings you to
30:36the disciplinary committee now? At this
30:37moment, she's like a cornered beast
30:39under siege. Any breath of wind sending
30:40her deeper into agitation. Norah's gaze
30:42finally lands on Lra's grip around my
30:44wrist. The corners of her lips lift into
30:46an almost innocent gentle curve. Her
30:48gaze drifts across me lightly. I've come
30:50to ask you for someone. Director
30:51Whitlock, it seems. My voice carries an
30:53all- knowing mockery. I'm truly not the
30:55kind of insect your rules combine so
30:56easily. The moment my words fall, LRA
30:58feels a force she cannot resist and her
31:00fingers are pried open in an instant. I
31:01casually shake out my wrist as if
31:03brushing off a bit of dust. Thanks,
31:05ladies. My voice carries the tone of one
31:06who controls the entire situation,
31:08almost as if bestowing a favor. With
31:10that, I no longer look at anyone. I turn
31:11and vanish beyond the door, leaving
31:13behind a room in disarray and three
31:14women with three different sets of
31:16thoughts. I need an explanation. Lra
31:18rubs her furough brow wearily. Deep in
31:20Viven's eyes, a complex flicker passes
31:22almost unseen. Her thin lips pressed
31:24together. In half a month, you will know
31:25everything. I'm sorry. This concerns the
31:27Ashford family's core secrets, and I
31:29cannot explain it to you for now. LRA
31:31seems to be weighing in the name
31:32Ashford, and the depth of what lies
31:33behind it. Her gaze shifts to Nora, who
31:35leans against the doorframe as if
31:37uninvolved, yet somehow present in
31:38everything. Her eyes sharpen like a
31:40blade. And you, Norah, don't tell me he
31:42is also tangled up with the Harrington
31:44family's little skeletons. He isn't.
31:45Norah's face still wears that gentle,
31:47near-perfect mask. It has nothing to do
31:49with the Harringtons. Deep in her eyes
31:51churn an elusive curiosity and fixation.
31:53There are simply certain questions whose
31:54answers I still need to draw from him
31:56for now. That melody, the one that
31:58existed only in her feverish, hazy
32:00memory, an unpublished piece belonging
32:02to her mother. An 8-year-old child could
32:04not possibly have known it. This single
32:06doubt is a poisoned barb driven deep
32:08into her heart. Lra waves a tired hand.
32:10Her voice is heavy with weariness and a
32:11restlessness she cannot shake. Leave.
32:13Both of you leave. I need to be alone.
32:15Before Viven leaves, she gives LRA a
32:17long, deep look. The look is complex,
32:19unreadable. LRA's eyes are pained. She
32:21sinks into the wide chair. He was right.
32:23Machai Island beans with 1ml of maple
32:25syrup. Even though she does not like
32:26this coffee with its bitter, sour bite
32:28that cuts to the bone, she has still
32:30turned it into a habit because this
32:31flavor was once his favorite. Has he
32:32come back? Or are those disgusting fools
32:34who occupied his body in order to fool
32:36her, studying their past in fine detail,
32:38even mimicking his habits laying yet
32:39another trap? Target subject LRA
32:41Whitlock. Affection level fluctuating
32:43violently between80 and87. You do not
32:46seem surprised at all. The systems voice
32:48carries a hint of probing. Hm. Why would
32:50I be surprised? H well done. The systems
32:52voice rarely carries what could be
32:54called a cold note of approval. In just
32:56two days, you've somehow made Vivian
32:57Ashford and Norah Harrington two target
32:59subjects. Both speak up for you and both
33:01bend the rules for you. This talent for
33:03pleasing prey is genuinely beyond my
33:04expectations. When my figure appears at
33:06the classroom door, the noisy classroom
33:08falls silent as if a mute button has
33:10been pressed. Countless gazes, curious,
33:12probing, and fearful focus on me. I
33:14ignore them all, walking straight to my
33:15seat by the window. On the desk rest a
33:17pure white invitation card. Mr. Ethan
33:19Sinclair, you are cordially invited to
33:21young master Tristan Weston's birthday
33:22banquet. Time June 5th, 7 in the
33:24evening. Location, the Weston estate.
33:26Tristan Weston's birthday party. The
33:28Weston family heir, director of the
33:29student council club's department.
33:31Within the succession line of the eight
33:32great conglomerates, he is known as a
33:34smooth operator with a hand in every
33:35direction. Over the past 3 years, the
33:37transmigrators never seemed to cross
33:39paths with this young master weston in
33:40any way worth noting. On the surface,
33:42the Westons and the Sinclair's have
33:43maintained a perfectly measured
33:44distance, each keeping to their own
33:46lane. Is this sudden invitation a
33:48gesture from someone who has caught the
33:49shifting winds, or a carefully
33:50orchestrated trap dressed up as a
33:52banquet, waiting for me to walk in?
33:53Either way, this game of chess grows
33:55more interesting by the moment. Class S,
33:57secondyear university division. Tristan,
33:59have you lost your mind? You actually
34:00sent an invitation to that Ethan
34:02Sinclair. Rowan's voice carries a sharp,
34:04piercing disdain. Aren't you afraid
34:05he'll ruin the birthday banquet you've
34:07prepared so carefully? Chasing after
34:08Saraphina and the others again, turning
34:10the whole venue into a mess. Tristan
34:12pauses what he's doing. Rowan, don't say
34:13that. The rumors going around the
34:14academy these past two days about him
34:16sound rather different. Perhaps we could
34:18become friends. After all, he is still
34:19an heir to one of the eight great
34:21families. Shh. Rowan lets out an
34:22unrestrained scoff. I know you all too
34:24well. You never let go of anyone who
34:26might be useful, but from what I've
34:27heard, he has already been kicked out of
34:28the Sinclair line of succession. A new
34:30heir has already replaced him in the
34:32family. Tristan's smile does not falter
34:33in the slightest. Yet his voice carries
34:35an unshakable certainty. Rowan, it's
34:37only an invitation. You have to see for
34:39yourself before drawing conclusions.
34:41Let's just wait and watch. The Morris
34:42Academy Library. I close the volume in
34:44my hands. It's scent of old paper and
34:46ink still lingering. My fingertips trace
34:47across the yellowed pages where cold
34:49numbers and layers of decision-making
34:51logic trace the shifting currents of
34:52power. Many rare volumes and classified
34:54files that cannot be stored
34:55electronically along with political
34:57reports rest quietly here. I am
34:59especially interested in several
35:00internal assessment reports on major
35:02energy policy shifts from the past three
35:03years. Returning the books to their
35:05places, I step out without a sound,
35:07leaving behind this silent hall thick
35:09with the dust of history. At the main
35:10gate of Morris Academy, a crowd of
35:12students has gathered after dismissal.
35:13The focus of attention is a sleek
35:15limited edition silver supercar.
35:16Saraphina rests one hand casually on the
35:18steering wheel while her other hand is
35:20being gripped desperately by a
35:21green-haired boy, his face stre with
35:22tears. Miss Saraphina, what did I do
35:24wrong? I'll change. I'll change anything
35:26you want. Please don't break up with me.
35:27Let go. The impatience between
35:29Saraphina's brows is nearly spilling
35:30over. The boy flinches at the icy tone,
35:32but immediately grasps her like the last
35:34straw. "Miss Saraphina, yesterday you
35:36told me you like me best, just the way I
35:37am. Did you forget?" There is no warmth
35:39in Saraphina's eyes, only pure
35:40irritation, as if looking at an expired
35:42toy that has lost its charm. "I'm tired
35:44of you now," she states it as fact. "You
35:46have 3 seconds to let go," as if
35:48commenting on the weather. The onlookers
35:49whisper among themselves with a numb, of
35:51course, attitude. Among the student
35:52council's high and mighty young ladies,
35:54Saraphina is widely known as the most
35:56approachable one. As long as you're
35:57handsome enough, she usually accepts
35:59anyone. Yet, her interest fades
36:01pitifully fast, rarely lasting even a
36:03week. The saddest part is there are
36:04always those who naively believe that
36:06they'll be the one and only exception,
36:07only to end up as another joke. 3. Two.
36:09The cold countdown tolls like a death
36:11nail. Overwhelming fear and humiliation
36:13crush the boy. He lets go abruptly,
36:15watching helplessly as the silver
36:16supercar shoots off like an arrow,
36:18vanishing into a dazzling streak of
36:19light. The crowd of onlookers lets out a
36:21few uncertain size and gradually
36:23disperses. I stand in the shadow of a
36:24nearby colonade, my arms folded. For
36:27three years, those transmigrators use my
36:29body and made me just like this boy, the
36:31laughingstock at the center of every
36:32crowd under Saraphina's icy gaze,
36:35stripped of dignity and pride alike. I
36:37withdraw my gaze calmly, as if brushing
36:39away nothing more than a speck of dust.
36:41Past humiliations leave no ripple in my
36:43eyes. Only the cold that is settled deep
36:44within grow sharper. For the next two
36:46days, I disappear entirely from Morris
36:48Academy. I lock myself in the private
36:50study alongside mountains of ancient
36:51files piled on the desk and complex data
36:54streaming across the screens. My
36:55absence, however, becomes the perfect
36:57breeding ground for rumors. The
36:58expulsion scandal is strangely dropped,
37:00and the disciplinary committee even
37:01tacitly grants me privileges. That in
37:03itself is the greatest anomaly.
37:05Speculation spreads wildly. The most
37:07popular version is drenched in tabloid
37:09fantasy. Some claim with absolute
37:10certainty to have witnessed something
37:12intimate between director Whitlock and
37:13me, believing my privileges were bought
37:15through some sorted trade. The more
37:16vicious version claims that the Sinclair
37:18family has finally had enough and has
37:20exiled this disgraceful heir to some
37:21obscure branch family. Only for the sake
37:23of my last shred of dignity have they
37:25not formally expelled me. The only clear
37:26fact is that at Morris Academy, the
37:28student council and its core members
37:29wield supreme authority. Therefore,
37:31whether these privileges come from Lara
37:32Whitlock, Norah Harrington, or Vivian
37:34Ashford, no one dares question them
37:36openly. They can only stew in envy and
37:38suspicion behind closed doors. June 5th,
37:40Nightfall. The western estate blazes
37:42with light like a city where night never
37:43falls. Top tier luxury cars, symbols of
37:46wealth and status stream steadily
37:47through the estate gates. This year, the
37:49Weston's rank firmly among the top four
37:51of the eight great conglomerates.
37:52Tonight is not just Tristan's birthday
37:54banquet, but a silent showcase of
37:56succession. Mr. Sinclair, your presence
37:57truly honors me. Tristan is the first to
37:59greet me, his voice smooth and flawless.
38:01Young Master Weston, happy birthday. I
38:04hand over a deep red velvet gift box.
38:05When the lid opens, a rich, deep emerald
38:08glow flows out from within. An
38:09invaluable jeweled watch rests quietly
38:11on the velvet cushion. Tristan takes the
38:13box. his eyes carrying just the right
38:15amount of surprise and appreciation.
38:16Young Master Sinclair, you shouldn't
38:18have such a thoughtful choice so
38:20precisely to my taste. For this generous
38:22gift, I am deeply grateful. Just then, a
38:24deafening aggressive engine roar
38:26approaches from afar. A racing grade
38:27supercar in purple black slides in with
38:29an arrogant drift, stopping perfectly in
38:31the center of the courtyard, drawing
38:32every eye in the venue. The doors lift
38:34upward. Saraphina steps out first. Even
38:36a perfectly tailored dark gown cannot
38:38hide the defiance woven into her bones.
38:40Right behind her, a purple-haired man
38:41steps out, slipping his arm intimately
38:43through hers. The moment Saraphina's
38:45gaze catches the quiet figure in black
38:47beside Tristan. The smile at the corners
38:48of her lips freezes instantly.
38:50Undisguised contempt and disgust surge
38:52in her eyes. She strides forward with
38:53her new companion, ignoring everyone
38:55around her, her voice low, yet perfectly
38:57audible to everyone nearby. Tristan, the
38:59class of your birthday parties keeps
39:01sinking lower. Why are you letting trash
39:02in to clutter the place? Your taste is
39:04getting worse and worse. Her gaze slices
39:06across me like a cold blade filled with
39:08contempt. Tristan, your father is
39:09waiting for you over there. Says it's
39:11urgent. Rowan cuts in at exactly the
39:12right moment, his tone tinged with
39:14amusement. Tristan's flawless smile
39:16stays in place. He gives me and
39:17Saraphina an apologetic glance.
39:19Saraphina, today is my birthday. Don't
39:21embarrass my guests. Fine. Saraphina
39:23answers with impatience, but her gaze
39:24locks onto me as I'm about to turn away.
39:26She steps forward, her voice full of
39:28warning and probing. What kind of trick
39:29are you pulling? Vivian Ashford Norah
39:31Harrington? As she says those two names,
39:33her tone drips with disbelief and
39:34mockery. You actually got those two
39:36arrogant guys to speak up for you, but
39:38I'm not them. Drop whatever twisted
39:40thoughts you have, or else she is met
39:41with complete silence. I glance at her
39:43without a flicker of emotion, as if she
39:45were nothing more than an irritating
39:46patch of air, not worth even a look. The
39:48indifference in my eyes cuts deeper than
39:50the sharpest sarcasm. I turn away
39:51without hesitation, never pausing for a
39:53moment, never offering a single reply.
39:55Saraphina freezes in place, her
39:57expression darkening instantly. She
39:59feels as if she has thrown a fully
40:00loaded punch that landed on cotton,
40:02leaving not even a ripple on her
40:03opponent. This feeling of being utterly
40:05ignored, treated as nothing, is the
40:07second time she has ever felt it. And
40:08both times because of the same man. The
40:10crowd around them, midtoast, begins to
40:12whisper upon seeing this scene. That
40:14trash who used to chase after Miss
40:15Saraphina just ignored her like that.
40:17Could the rumors actually be true? On
40:19the spiral staircase, a figure in white
40:21quietly watches the scene from above.
40:23The gentle smile at his lips gives way
40:25to seriousness. Quite a convincing act.
40:27Playing hard to get, isn't he? The young
40:28man beside him speaks. Rare uncertainty
40:30in his voice. His eyes were too cold.
40:32Even if it's an act, then his
40:34performance has reached a whole new
40:35level. Rowan, let's keep watching. By
40:37the back garden pool, far from the noise
40:38and glitter of the front hall, I hold a
40:40glass of red wine taken from a waiter's
40:42tray. Standing at the water's edge,
40:44steady footsteps come from behind me,
40:45rustling faintly. The visitor seems to
40:47be slowing her steps on purpose. I don't
40:49turn around. I simply swallow the sip of
40:51red wine. My gaze still fixed on the
40:53cold moon at the horizon. As if nothing
40:55behind me concerns me at all. The night
40:57wind drifts past, carrying a hint of
40:58chill and a faint familiar scent. System
41:01alert. LRA Whitlock's affection level
41:02increased by 30%. Mission time remaining
41:051 hour 32 minutes. Her voice rises
41:07behind me. It's no longer the
41:08contemptuous, strictly professional tone
41:10of the director. Instead, it carries a
41:12heavily restrained tremor. A horseness
41:13that betrays how tentatively she's
41:15speaking. The care in that voice is like
41:17someone reaching for a fragile treasure
41:18long buried in dust. I turn slowly and
41:21look at her without a flicker of
41:22emotion. Director Whitlock, what a
41:23coincidence. Getting some fresh air,
41:25too. My tone carries a hint of teasing.
41:27LRA ignores my words entirely. She steps
41:29forward, closing the distance sharply. I
41:31remember her voice carries the drifting
41:33weight of memory, but her gaze is sharp
41:34as a blade, locked firmly onto my eyes.
41:37At my 10th birthday banquet, there was
41:39someone who found it unbearably dull,
41:40who took me and slipped me quietly out
41:42of that noisy hall, out to the swing set
41:44in the back garden to breathe. She
41:45pauses. Every word is like peeling back
41:47an old scab. My fingers around the wine
41:49glass curl slightly, almost
41:50imperceptibly. That tiny, barely visible
41:52motion lands in LRA's heart like a
41:54boulder dropped into still water,
41:56sending massive waves through her. It's
41:57you, isn't it? LRA's voice is stretched
41:59thin with restraint, carrying a longing
42:00and certainty that borders on a scream.
42:02Her body leans forward with emotion.
42:04You've come back, the real you, Director
42:06Whitlock. My voice turns deliberately
42:08cold. Are you drunk? What nonsense are
42:10you spouting? I try to build a wall of
42:11indifference to hold her surging
42:12emotions at bay. Nonsense. LRA's laugh
42:15is full of self-mockery, pain, and an
42:17all-in kind of madness. Her hand shoots
42:19out shockingly fast, snatching the wine
42:21glass from my hand. She drains the
42:22remaining wine in one gulp. A trickle of
42:24dark red spills from the corner of her
42:25lips. In an instant, the alcohol takes
42:27effect, flushing rapidly across her pale
42:29face. The way she stares at me burns
42:31with an almost self-destructive resolve.
42:33She pulls a bitter wine tinged smile
42:35onto her lips. Now I really am drunk.
42:37Before her words fade, she stops looking
42:39at me, but her steps begin to move
42:40backward. One step, two steps. Behind
42:43her lies the shimmering pool. LRA. My
42:45pupils contract sharply. For the first
42:46time, my voice carries an urgent
42:48warning. I've had enough. The pain in
42:50Lra's eyes is thick, mixed with the
42:51despair of a moth to a flame. Enough of
42:53watching a monster wearing your face
42:54parade around in front of everyone. With
42:56the resolve of a martyr, she throws
42:57herself backward. A huge splash bursts
42:59open. The bitterly cold pool water
43:01swallows the figure in white in an
43:03instant. System alert. Target subject
43:05LRA Whitlock experiencing severe
43:06emotional fluctuation. System alert
43:08warning readings abnormal. I stand at
43:10the edge of the pool. Reason tells me
43:12LRA did this on purpose. She is forcing
43:14my hand with her own life. The systems
43:16cold warnings ring shilly in my head.
43:18The movement below the surface is
43:19fading. Damn it. The next moment, a
43:21larger splash bursts up. Piercing cold
43:23shoots straight to the top of my head. I
43:24hold my breath, eyes wide open, and
43:26drive myself downward toward the sinking
43:28figure in white. LRA's eyes are closed,
43:30as if all life has drained from her. She
43:31sinks slowly toward the bottom of the
43:33pool. The alcohol and the cold water
43:34seem to have stripped away every last
43:36bit of her strength. I surge forward,
43:38reaching desperately for her arm,
43:39pulling her upward with everything I
43:40have. We break the surface together in a
43:42rough tangle. Locked in my arms, LRA
43:44coughs violently, dazed from the near
43:46drowning, involuntary tears streaming
43:48from her eyes. Her neck falls back
43:50involuntarily, exposing the area just
43:52above her left collarbone. Moonlight
43:53passes through the water droplets,
43:55clearly revealing a faint
43:56crescent-shaped old scar. My eyes fix on
43:58that scar. LRA seems to feel my gaze.
44:00Her voice is faint, nearly lost beneath
44:02the sound of water. I I won the bet. I
44:04hold LRA's soaked body tight against me.
44:06The face that always wears a gentle mask
44:08is now pale as paper, covered in water
44:10droplets. Only her red rimmed eyes stay
44:12locked on mine, burning with the ecstasy
44:13of finding what she thought was lost,
44:15and a humble, pleading longing that
44:16almost scorches me where I stand. This
44:18is the second time I have saved her.
44:20Memories surged without warning. 10
44:22years ago, the brightly lit banquet hall
44:24of the Whitlock family, a birthday
44:26celebration carefully arranged for her.
44:27Yet, with only a single glance from me,
44:29she did not hesitate. She ignored her
44:31father's warning stare and slipped out
44:32of that dull hall with me, hiding away
44:34in the quiet back garden. That brief
44:36moment of freedom came at a heavy price.
44:38Afterward, the enraged head of the
44:39Whitlock family forced her into the
44:41cold, gloomy family shrine, making her
44:43kneel there for 24 full hours. when I
44:45heard for the first time a strange
44:46unfamiliar feeling called guilt rose in
44:48my chest. I went to the Whitlock estate
44:50to see her. What I saw was her stumbling
44:51out of the shrine, her face
44:52frighteningly pale. As she crossed the
44:54courtyard on her way back to her room,
44:56her legs gave out and she pitched
44:57forward into the icy pool. The water
44:59gave up only a few bubbles before
45:00quickly falling still as if nothing had
45:02happened. I did not hesitate for a
45:03second. I dove straight in. When I
45:05finally reached her, grabbing her
45:06sinking body, she gave no response. Her
45:08eyes were shut tight like a doll drained
45:10of its soul. In desperation, I opened my
45:11mouth and bit down hard on the skin
45:13above her collarbone. That deep bite
45:14mark has been etched into her skin ever
45:16since. LRA Whitlock affection level 85.
45:19Mission complete. The mechanical voice
45:20sounds carrying and expected calm. As a
45:22girl, LRA was always silent, following
45:24behind that dazzling figure. Every
45:25gesture of mine drew every gaze in the
45:27room. Falling in love with me felt like
45:29the most natural thing in the world. She
45:30was not spared, but she never spoke of
45:32it. Simply being able to watch me from
45:34afar felt like fate's greatest kindness.
45:36Until 3 years ago, after a sudden high
45:38fever, everything changed. I woke up,
45:40but the way I looked at her was
45:41chillingly foreign. In that gaze was
45:42something deliberate and cloyingly
45:44sweet, laced with open seduction. In
45:46that moment, Lra's heart felt as if it
45:48were being squeezed by something
45:49invisible. Then came a flood of
45:50overwhelming joy. She thought I'd
45:52finally understood her feelings. Until
45:53that night, I came stumbling to find
45:55her. The heavy stench of alcohol
45:56spilling out around me. My eyes were
45:58unfocused, my face flushed with an
45:59unnatural red. The moment I saw Lra, I
46:01fell straight into her arms. LRA, I feel
46:03so awful. Only you can help me. I love
46:06you. I've always loved you. Do you know
46:07that? LRA's mind went blank. A tidal
46:09wave of happiness and yearning crashed
46:11over her. She stood frozen. Her blood
46:12seemed to run backward. All her senses
46:14focused on the warm body in her arms and
46:16on the kiss that was about to fall. Yet,
46:17at the very moment the lips were about
46:19to touch hers, a wave of heavy, cheap,
46:21biting perfume shattered her ecstasy.
46:23She knew I hated that sharp, cheap smell
46:24most of all. Out of the corner of her
46:26eye, she caught it clearly. The hand
46:27that had been around her back was
46:28reaching out of habit toward its own
46:30forehead. But the real me, whenever I
46:31was thinking hard or emotionally shaken,
46:33had an unconscious little habit. I
46:35always rubbed my own cheek. This man
46:36before her, with unfocused eyes,
46:38exaggerated gestures, and an unfamiliar
46:40scent, was not me. She summoned every
46:42ounce of strength and shoved me away
46:43from her. The force made me cry out,
46:45stumble a few steps, and drop hard onto
46:47the cold floor. From that day on, LRA
46:49became the calmst and coldest observer.
46:51She put on a mask, moved with calculated
46:53caution, and rose to the position of
46:54director of the disciplinary committee.
46:56She watched with cold detachment as the
46:57imposttor, wearing my body, flashing
46:59false, fawning smiles, circled Vivien,
47:01Saraphina, and Nora like a fly chasing
47:03rot. She watched me throw away again and
47:05again the pride of the Sinclair he air
47:07and debase myself before those women in
47:09ways sickening to witness. She watched
47:10me slowly become the biggest joke in
47:12high society's dinner talk. Hatred grew
47:14inside her day after day, night after
47:16night. She hated this monster. She used
47:17the strictest rules to bind me, the
47:19coldest gaze to cut me down, the
47:20authority of the disciplinary committee
47:22to hold me in place. And yet she never
47:24actually drove me out of Morris Academy
47:25because she was waiting, waiting for the
47:27real me to come back. And now she has.
47:29Someone someone's fallen in. The
47:30commotion by the pool finally draws a
47:32crowd. Screams tear through the quiet of
47:34the back garden, igniting the crowd
47:36instantly. Footsteps and voices rush in
47:38from every direction, quickly
47:39surrounding this quiet corner until
47:40there's no room left to move. When I
47:42climb up to the pool's edge, dragging a
47:44soaked, nearly limp LRA, struggling with
47:46every step, what meets me are countless
47:48pairs of eyes, some startled, some
47:49curious, most filled with undisguised
47:51contempt. Lra coughs violently, her face
47:53pale as paper, too weak to stand
47:55steadily. When the crowd sees who fell
47:57in, the air fills with a shared knowing
47:59understanding. Whispers hiss around me
48:00like snakes. Him again? He really never
48:02learns. Wasn't it enough when Miss
48:04Saraphina had him thrown into a
48:05fountain? Now he's got his hands on
48:06director Whitlock. Poor Director
48:08Whitlock running into a lunatic like
48:10him. He must have been harassing her and
48:11things escalated until they both fell
48:13in. Poor young Master Weston. A
48:15perfectly good birthday party ruined by
48:17a simp like that. The gazes prick me
48:19like poison needles, stabbing from every
48:21direction. Barely recovered from the
48:22water, LRA hears the tidal wave of
48:24slander. She struggles to straighten her
48:26body, her pale lips parting to lash out.
48:28A cold but firm hand presses on her
48:29soaked wrist. I don't even look at her.
48:31I just press down lightly. My gaze
48:33sweeps calmly across the crowd, across
48:35every malicious face before me. There is
48:37no panic in my eyes. No shame, only a
48:39silent absolute indifference, as if all
48:41this noise were nothing more than a
48:43swarm of insects. Explain myself to
48:45people like these. The corner of my lips
48:46lifts in the faintest, coldest curve. I
48:48prefer to use absolute power to grind
48:50their faces beneath my feet. Just then,
48:51a suit jacket settles gently over my
48:53cold, soaked shoulders. Young Master
48:55Sinclair, are you all right? Tristan has
48:57somehow made his way through the crowd,
48:58stepping to my side. His face carries
49:00the perfect measure of concern with no
49:02trace of anger over the ruined party. He
49:04gives me a soothing smile. Let me take
49:05you upstairs to a guest room to change
49:07into something dry. His gaze shifts to
49:09the equally soaked LRA. LRA, the maid is
49:11waiting for you over there. He gestures
49:12for the waiting maid to step forward. I
49:14do not refuse. I pull the jacket tighter
49:16around my shoulders and give a slight
49:17nod. Thank you, young Master Weston.
49:19Under countless watching eyes, Tristan,
49:21as if escorting an honored guest, leads
49:22me away from the chaos and noise. Young
49:24Master Weston really is kind. Not only
49:26isn't he angry, he's actually helping
49:28him out of the mess. True, the two of
49:30them are like night and day. The
49:31contrast is unmistakable. The murmurss
49:33behind me after Tristan appeared do not
49:34die down. If anything, his generous
49:36gesture only makes me look guiltier. The
49:38gossip grows even bolder. Listening to
49:40the ugly rumors around her, Lra's face
49:42darkens like a storm. On the second
49:44floor, in a lavishly decorated guest
49:46room with an air of quiet emptiness,
49:47"Young Master Sinclair, please wait a
49:49moment." Tristan speaks softly and turns
49:51toward the walk-in closet. This just
49:52arrived recently. I haven't had a chance
49:54to wear it yet. The size should fit.
49:56Tristan lays the suit on the plush bed,
49:57his smile flawless. I'll have someone
49:59dry your wet clothes. Much appreciated.
50:01Tristan withdraws considerately, closing
50:03the door softly behind him. In the
50:04shadows of the hallway, Rowan comes
50:06forward immediately, his face full of
50:08undisguised disgust and confusion.
50:10Tristan, why are you being so nice to
50:11him? Look at what people are saying out
50:13there. Obviously, he was harassing her
50:14and LRA pushed him into the pool. Rowan
50:16lowers his voice, speaking fast and
50:18urgent. Tristan's playful, gentle smile
50:19fades a shade. He shakes his head
50:21slightly, keeping his voice very low but
50:23carrying an unquestionable certainty.
50:24Rowan, it's not that simple. I saw it.
50:26Saw what? Rowan pauses. The look in
50:28LRA's eyes. Tristan's gaze shifts to the
50:30guest room's closed door, seeming to see
50:32straight through it. The way she looked
50:33at him, it wasn't disgust. It wasn't the
50:35anger of someone being harassed. It was
50:37breakdown. It was the joy of finding
50:39something lost and bone deep pain and
50:41regret. He pauses, turning to face Rowan
50:43seriously. Do you think someone who fell
50:44in the pool from being harassed would
50:45react that way? Rowan opens his mouth
50:47speechless. He recalls the way LRA
50:49looked when I dragged her out of the
50:50water. And indeed, that was nothing like
50:52how LRA would look at a harasser. Then
50:54what on earth is going on? Tristan's
50:55eyes are dark and deep as he slips his
50:57flawless gentle mask back on. I don't
50:59know, but this young master Sinclair
51:01seems to have become very, very
51:02interesting. Let's go. The banquet must
51:04go on. The main event is about to begin.
51:06Dressed in the deep night sky white
51:07okoutur suit. My appearance draws every
51:09eye once more, but this time there is
51:11uncertainty in those stairs. Tristan
51:13steps onto the main stage at just the
51:14right moment. The spotlight falls on him
51:16like a halo, making him look like an
51:18angel. Thank you all for coming tonight
51:19to celebrate my son Tristan's birthday.
51:21Mr. Weston's voice is steady. I'd like
51:23to take this opportunity to announce
51:24that I have officially transferred 30%
51:26of the Western group's shares to
51:28Tristan. Please continue to look after
51:29my son in the future. Below the stage,
51:31there is a wave of stifled gasps and
51:33enthusiastic applause. 30% of the
51:35Western group. This is far more than a
51:37birthday gift. It is a declaration to
51:39all of state A that Tristan Weston is
51:41now the undisputed future leader of the
51:43Weston family. The aura of power and
51:45wealth around him deepens, making
51:47Tristan shine even brighter. He wears a
51:49graceful smile. Then Mr. Weston shifts
51:51his tone. At the same time, the Weston
51:52and Langley families also have joyful
51:54news to share. Every gaze snaps to below
51:56the stage to Saraphina, who is holding
51:58her new companion, absent-mindedly
52:00toying with a rose gold lighter. After
52:02discussion between our two families,
52:04given how well suited our children have
52:05long been, they will be engaged on a
52:07date to be selected. Boom! The
52:09announcement lands like a bombshell,
52:10instantly detonating the ballroom. A
52:12marriage alliance, the powerhouse union
52:14of Weston and Langley. Yet, the two
52:16people at the center of it react in ways
52:17that give people pause. Saraphina merely
52:19lifts her eyelids lazily. Her slender
52:21fingers keep flicking the rose gold
52:23lighter. She glances up at Tristan on
52:24the stage, pulls her lips into a
52:26careless curve, and calls it a response.
52:28The man in her arms whispers something
52:29in her ear with a grin, and she lowers
52:31her head, laughing as if far more
52:33interested in that, as if the engagement
52:34just announced belongs to someone else
52:36entirely. Tristan stands on the stage,
52:38that flawless, gentle smile still on his
52:40face, nodding politely to the
52:41congratulating crowd, but his eyes are
52:42still unmoved, as though this alliance
52:44capable of reshaping the landscape of
52:46two great conglomerates had little to do
52:48with him personally. The guests are
52:49surprised, but they all understand.
52:51Marriages between the eight great
52:52conglomerates have always been unions of
52:54interest. First, affection has never
52:55been the top consideration. After a
52:57brief buzz, warmer applause and cheers
52:59rise again, drowning out the stranges of
53:01two people who look nothing alike
53:02inside. Mission objective, target
53:04subject, Saraphina Langley. affection
53:06level to increase by 20%. Mission time
53:08limit 7 days. My gaze falls on
53:10Saraphina, laughing wildly, filled with
53:12undisguised scrutiny and disgust along
53:14with a cold edge born from a mission I
53:16never chose. Saraphina snaps her head
53:17up, catching the icy gaze cutting
53:19through the noise. Him again, that
53:20damned look again. Her sharp eyes narrow
53:22dangerously, the reckless smile on her
53:24face freezing instantly. Her companion
53:26hit by the sudden chill, shivers
53:27involuntarily, his voice quivering. But
53:29a figure in white moves faster, stepping
53:31in front of me, blocking Saraphina's
53:32piercing stare. LRA's face still carries
53:34the power of nearly drowning, but her
53:35eyes are clear once more, still churning
53:37with lingering anger and an almost
53:39instinctive protectiveness. Saraphina
53:41takes in the scene before her and laughs
53:42furious. She steps forward close enough
53:44to smell the cold pool water still on
53:45LRA. Her gaze flicks between us and her
53:47lips split into a malicious smile. Her
53:49voice isn't loud, but everyone nearby
53:50can hear it clearly. Did the pool water
53:52rot your brain? You'd protect trash like
53:54him. She pauses on purpose, her eyes
53:56sliding over me, then returning to LRA's
53:57face. It is naked humiliation. Or are
53:59the rumors actually true, you two? LRA
54:01Whitlock, you really have quite the
54:03unique taste. Picking up trash others
54:04have thrown away. Or have you forgotten
54:06who he used to be? Forgotten how he used
54:08to chase every different woman around
54:09like some animal in heat, wagging his
54:11tail for scraps. Every word tears open
54:12the wound on Lara's heart. The one just
54:14barely scabbed over from confirming who
54:16I really am. Fury burns wildly in LRA's
54:18eyes. On the verge of erupting at the
54:20moment she is about to lose control, a
54:22hand rests lightly on her shoulder,
54:23gently easing her aside. I step forward
54:25almost face to face with Saraphina. I
54:27tilt my head slightly. There is no anger
54:29in my eyes. No shame, only a cool,
54:31condescending mockery, as if watching a
54:33mad dog barking at nothing. My voice is
54:35not loud, but it instantly cuts through
54:37every whisper. Your engagement was just
54:38announced. Do you plan to ruin Young
54:40Master Weston's birthday wearing that
54:42sour face? Saraphina, that's enough.
54:44Tristan's gentle voice comes at just the
54:46right moment, flowing like a clear
54:48spring, yet carrying a meaning that
54:50cannot be ignored. He is still smiling
54:52as he looks out at the crowd, but his
54:53gaze is cold, without a trace of warmth,
54:55focused on Saraphina. From here on, his
54:58voice carries clearly through the
54:59microphone, every word striking into the
55:01hearts of everyone present. I look
55:03forward to a mutually beneficial
55:05arrangement. The line is both a
55:06declaration of the engagement and a
55:08warning to Saraphina. A curb on her
55:10behavior in this moment. Saraphina
55:12freezes in place, glaring at me as if
55:14she wants to swallow me whole. She
55:15shoots LRA a vicious look, but under
55:17Tristan's invisible pressure, she forces
55:19down the rage burning through her
55:20reason. She spins around and strides
55:21toward the stage. She grabs Tristan's
55:23outstretched hand roughly, her posture
55:25stiff. Only then does LRA's tense body
55:27loosen slightly. She immediately turns
55:28to look at me, her eyes filled with
55:30lingering fear and unshakable worry. You
55:32were too reckless. Her voice is very
55:34low, trembling almost imperceptibly.
55:36Saraphina isn't an ordinary spoiled
55:38Aerys. Over these three years, she
55:39clawed her way out of the Langley family
55:41swamp. You have no idea how ruthless her
55:43methods are. She whispers rapidly. The
55:45head of the Langley family's affairs are
55:46an open secret. You couldn't count his
55:48illegitimate children on one hand.
55:50Saraphina's mother was just a powerless
55:51hostess. She secretly gave birth to
55:53Saraphina back

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