Hot Reading

"I’m the heroine in an erotic story. My specialty? Turning anything hot or cold into something steamy. On the first day I landed in a horror game, the boss told everyone to choose how they wanted to die. I smiled and said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” Boss: “???” Chapter 1 [Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: “Wish.”] [Please choose your cause of death.] The moment I landed in the horror game and reunited with my teammates, a strange man appeared in front of us. Thick black mist coiled around his head, hiding his face. His whole presence felt… wrong. “Shit!” the guy with dyed yellow hair cursed. “What kind of sick prank is this? You think a few cheap effects will scare me? Nice try!” He’d been cursing nonstop since the game started. No matter how the veteran players in our group tried to explain, he was convinced we were all in on some elaborate scam. Now, glaring furiously, he marched right up to the stranger and shoved him. “I’m warning you! Let me out of here, or I’ll— What the hell?!” His hand went straight through the man’s body. He stumbled back, eyes wide, staring at his hand in horror—only to watch it dissolve into a red mist before his eyes. “Wh-what’s happening? “Help me! Please—someone help me!” He cried and crawled toward us, desperate to escape. But within seconds, his whole body burst apart, blood and flesh splattering across the ground. The system’s cold, mechanical voice echoed in the air: [Death count: 1] [Current survivors: 7] [Keep up the good work, players!] The strange man never moved an inch. He simply repeated in that same flat tone: “Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: ‘Wish.’ Please choose your cause of death.” Just when everyone was at a total loss, glowing text suddenly scrolled across the air like a livestream chat. [Damn, these players are seriously unlucky. “Wish” has a zero percent clear rate—hardest dungeon ever recorded.] [The boss grants each player’s wish... but always in the most horrifying, twisted way possible.] [As soon as players enter, they face the final boss. It forces everyone to “wish” for the way they’ll die, then “mercifully” makes that wish come true.] [To survive, you have to find the one correct wish.] [Even top-tier players have failed this one. These newbies don’t look like much—how long do you think they’ll last?] After watching the guy with yellow hair explode right in front of us, no one dared to move. The silence was suffocating, stretching on and on. Finally, the boss lost patience. Its cold, distorted voice echoed through the darkness. “Since none of you have a wish,” it said, “I’ll choose for you.” A massive scythe appeared from the black mist behind it. “Wait! Wait!” A middle-aged man suddenly yelled. “I—I have one! I know how I want to die!” Everyone turned toward him. He swallowed hard and said carefully, “I choose to die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.” The words had barely left his mouth before everyone’s eyes lit up. Someone gave him a thumbs-up. “Smart move, man.” The boss lowered its scythe. “As you wish.” The middle-aged man exhaled, a relieved smile spreading across his face. One by one, the others chimed in: “Same for me! I want to die peacefully of old age too!” The boss’s voice stayed cold and flat. “As you wish.” Relief spread through the group. People even started laughing and chatting. “Good thing Pete thought of that! What a lifesaver.” “Yeah, the boss can’t touch us now. Guess we’ve already won!” Chapter 2 “Maybe this is the easiest SSS-level dungeon ever?” someone joked. I was the only one who stayed quiet, staring up at the sky. More glowing messages flashed across the air, the chat exploding in laughter. [Ugh, another bunch wishing to ‘die of old age’? How boring.] [How many times is this now? Every group that enters picks the same thing. Self-righteous idiots.] [They’ll find out soon enough why ‘Wish’ is ranked SSS.] By then, the boss had silently appeared right in front of me. “You’re the last one,” he said, voice low and cold. “So… how do you wish to die?” Well, shit. Guess this is really the end for me. Before I got dragged into this horror game, I was the heroine of an erotica—waking up every morning in bed tangled up with handsome men. Totally useless at everything else. Expecting me to come up with some clever survival plan? Not happening. I gave up instantly. If I was destined to die here, I might as well go out fulfilling my greatest wish— to turn this bleak world into one giant pleasure heaven. Doesn’t matter if it’s hot or cold—I’ll make it steamy. And honestly, even with his face hidden behind that swirling black mist, the boss’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and deep, magnetic voice were dead giveaways. The guy was built. Lust makes cowards bold. So without thinking, I said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” The boss: “???” I added helpfully, “Oh, and you’re the one doing it.” He froze, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The black mist around him stopped moving, the air went still. For a long moment, he just stood there—then slowly took a step back. I waited for a while, puzzled. But the boss never said his usual line—no “As you wish.” Instead, the system’s mechanical voice rang out: [Preliminary task: “Make a Wish” — completed.] [Please follow the Boss into the mansion.] [Main quest: Survive inside the mansion for three days.] [During these three days, random side quests will appear.] [Each completed quest grants one new wish.] [Only the player who makes the correct wish will live to the end.] By the time we reached the mansion, night had already fallen. The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze. Every inch of the wall was lined with framed photos—memorial portraits. And every photo showed one of us. Beneath each picture was a handwritten note, listing the person’s wish: [Die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.] All except mine. The words under my photo had been blacked out with thick marker. Everyone’s gaze instantly fell on me. The middle-aged man, Pete, was the first to speak. “Now that I think about it,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “You didn’t make the same wish as the rest of us, did you? You were hiding off in the corner. So, little miss, what kind of death did you choose?” Before I could answer, the boss suddenly spoke. “Players are forbidden to ask about others’ wishes.” For some reason, his tone sounded… tense. Seeing that, the others backed off, but their expressions turned smug. “Look at that—her wish got blacked out. Classic death flag,” one sneered. “She’s done for tonight.” “Who’s dumb enough to go off-script when the answer’s right there? Serves her right.” “Better for us if the dead weight drops early.” Before I knew it, I’d been completely cut out of the group. When it came time to pick rooms, they huddled together, snatching all the decent ones and leaving me with the smallest, dirtiest maid’s room. “Not like it matters,” Pete said with a smirk, holding the door half-shut. “You won’t live past tonight anyway. Might as well sleep anywhere.” When the door clicked closed, silence swallowed the house. Only the boss and I were left in the empty living room. He hovered for a moment, about to drift away. Chapter 3 “Wait!” I called out quickly. “I’m not sleeping in the maid’s room!” I hurried after him, plastering on my best grin. “You’ve got your own room in this mansion, right? How about we share a bed?” The boss said nothing. He just floated faster, like he couldn’t get away soon enough. I rushed after him. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to grant my wish? You know… shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.”” “I never agreed to that,” he said flatly, cutting me off. I frowned. “What the hell? Isn’t this dungeon called ‘Wish’? Weren’t you the one who said you’d grant every player’s wish? Why are you treating me differently? That’s discrimination! I’m filing a complaint with headquarters!” He stared at me in silence for a long moment, clearly speechless. Finally, in a resigned tone, he said, “…Fine. Come with me.” After a maze of turns, he brought me into a luxurious bedroom. The second I saw the king-sized bed in the center, I threw myself onto it with a dramatic sigh. “So soft… finally,” I groaned, stretching lazily before crossing my legs. “My legs hurt. Massage them for me.” He glanced at me once, utterly expressionless, and said nothing. I wasn’t giving up that easily. “By the way, what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you Boss forever.” He dodged the question immediately. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re a player. Focus on clearing the dungeon.” I smiled sweetly. “Then what should I call you? Baby? Honey? Hubby? Master? Daddy?” As my tone grew more and more outrageous, he finally snapped. “Luther Horden,” he blurted. “My name is Luther Horden.” For some reason, even though his voice was perfectly calm, I could hear the gritted teeth behind it. “Well then—” I started again, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Enough,” he interrupted quickly. “Go to sleep.” With a flick of his wrist, a swirl of black mist swept toward me. Before I could even react, everything went dark—like someone had flipped my power switch. I was woken by a scream the next morning. When I opened my eyes, Luther was gone from the room. I hurried to wash up and rushed down to the living room and froze. There, on the floor, lay a stranger’s body. The corpse looked ridiculously old. White hair, beard, a face carved with wrinkles—easily seventy, maybe eighty. For some reason, it also looked familiar. I scanned the room. Everyone had gathered except Pete. Their faces were stone-still. A woman with red-dyed hair, maybe in her thirties, looked around and said slowly, “I checked just now. That body on the floor… That’s Pete.” “No way,” someone shouted back. “Pete’s only in his forties. That corpse looks ancient. The ages don’t match.” The woman sighed. “Do you remember what wish we all made yesterday? ‘No sickness, no pain, die peacefully of old age.’ Pete’s death… that matches the wish. We seriously underestimated this dungeon. Thought we could get clever and skate by. An SSS-level run isn’t a joke.” Messages scrolled across the air like a live chat again. [LMAO, my favorite part—seeing cocky players crash and burn. Serves ’em right.] [Wait, didn’t everyone wish to die of old age? What did the girl in the corner wish for? I blacked out halfway through yesterday—didn’t see the rest. Can someone give a recap?] [Black screen too!] [ME too!!] [Same here!] … [Why are so many people getting black screens? I thought it was just my connection.] [Maybe she made the one correct wish, so they censored the feed? OMG. Is someone actually going to clear an SSS-level dungeon???] [You people jump to the wildest conclusions. I looked into her—total newbie. And that fragile little thing? I could slap her flat. Expecting her to beat a top-tier dungeon is hilarious.] Chapter 4 A young woman burst into tears. “What do we do now? We made the same wish as Pete. That means we’re all going to die too!” The room went dead silent. Everyone clearly had the same thought and none of their faces looked good. The red-haired woman lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly. “Not necessarily,” she said. “Remember what the system said? During these three days, it’ll issue random side quests. Each time we complete one, we get to make another wish. As long as someone figures out the right one, they’ll live. We still have a chance.” Her calm tone worked like a shot of adrenaline for the group. “I’m Cheryl,” she went on. “Before I ended up in this game, I was an executive at a multinational company. I know how to make decisions and handle pressure. If you trust me, I can lead us to victory.” When people are terrified, they’ll always look for someone to rely on. With her confidence and authority, Cheryl naturally became the group’s anchor. After claiming leadership, she gave a few motivational lines—standard pep-talk stuff. Then, the system’s cold voice echoed through the air again: [Side Quest: “The Boss’s Banquet” has been issued.] [All players are invited to join the feast!] [Quest time: Tonight, 8:00 PM.] [Participants: All surviving players.] [Hint: The banquet offers a wide variety of dishes. Each player must choose one dish to present to the Boss.] [Hint: No dish can be chosen twice.] [Hint: The player who offers the Boss’s favorite dish will earn His favor and receive another wish.] [Hint: The player who offers His least favorite dish… dies.] Cheryl’s lips curved into a confident smile. “Well,” she said, “looks like our chance just showed up.” There were still more than half a day left before the banquet. Under Cheryl’s direction, everyone split up to explore the mansion, hoping to uncover clues about the Boss’s preferences. An hour before dinner, the group gathered in the living room to share what they’d found. Cheryl spoke first. “I found tonight’s menu in the kitchen. There are six dishes total, one for each of us.” She unfolded the paper and read aloud, “Baked escargot, Caesar salad, grilled lamb chops, seared cod, creamy vegetable stew, and fruit cake. Any of these ring a bell?” A tall, thin guy raised his hand immediately. “I found a notebook in the maid’s room,” he said. “It mentioned something like, ‘The young master only eats vegetables and barely touches meat. His diet’s a mess.’ I’m guessing that ‘young master’ refers to the Boss.” A girl’s eyes lit up. “I saw the fridge, it’s full of milk and dairy stuff. So the Boss must really like creamy food. Milk and vegetables… that has to be the creamy stew!” Everyone’s faces brightened. The discovery seemed almost too easy, and for the first time, hope flickered. Cheryl tapped her long, polished nails lightly on the table. “Good work, everyone. We’ve figured out what the Boss likes. Now the question is… Who should be the one to offer the dish?” The system had made it clear: no dish could be chosen twice. Which meant only one person could win the Boss’s favor. Cheryl cleared her throat delicately. “I actually think I’ve already guessed the correct wish. If things go well, I might be able to get us all out of this dungeon alive. So, if you trust me, I’ll be the one to present the creamy stew.” The group exchanged uncertain glances. After a long hesitation, they eventually nodded in agreement. Then the girl who had first guessed the dish spoke up in a small voice…"

"“Brother, I’ve decide to get a divorce.” There was only a moment’s dead silence on the line. Then, Gilbert Cross’s voice came through, “You just married Vittorio yesterday!” I pondered it in my mind, a bitter smile touching my lips. It wasn't yesterday. It had been exactly 6,209 days. In my previous life,for the seventeen years of my marriage to Vittorio Croft, we were indeed the picture of perfect harmony. However, our fragile illusion came into pieces the day my older sister passed away from a critical illness. Grief-stricken, Vittorio suddenly fell severely ill himself. When he finally woke up from his coma, his assistant asked, “Sir, what about Silvia Cross?” Vittorio hadn't even blinked. He replied in a flat, indifferent tone, “Don't bother with her. She was originally nothing but a burden. I married her so that I could stay by her sister's side forever — if not as a lover, then as family.” Standing right outside the door, clutching a tray of warm soup, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn on the very first morning after our wedding. We had just held the lavish ceremony, but the official paperwork hadn't been registered yet. I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I took a pen and crossed out my name on the application form. In its place, I quickly wrote down Silvia Croft. From this moment forward, my past was buried, and I would never cross paths with Vittorio again. Chapter 1 “No matter what decision you make, we will always support you. How about coming to Germany?” The words echoed in my ear as I spoke to my parents on the phone. I didn’t answer right away. Instead, the moment the call ended, I headed straight to the embassy. A few years ago, my parents had transferred their entire business overseas. They had moved abroad with my brother, leaving me behind to stay with Vittorio. Now, I was finally determined to leave. “The paperwork will be ready in a week,” the officer said with a polite smile. I gave a slight nod, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy. The cool air hit my face, and a quiet certainty settled in my chest. Everything was finally coming to end. That evening, I met up with a few friends at a bar. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot in a nightclub since marrying Vittorio. “Sylvia, what’s gotten into you today?” Maggie asked, grabbing my arm in sheer surprise. “Ever since you fell for that aloof monk, you’ve been trailing after him like a shadow. I thought you’d never set foot in places like this again!” I offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. Lifting my wine glass, I took a slow sip, letting my gaze drift into a hazy blur. “I’m done caring about him. Tonight, I’m just going to party until I drop.” But before the words even fully left my lips, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “Vittorio Croft.” I turned, my eyes landing on Vittorio striding purposefully toward Silvia Croft, his adopted sister. She was in the middle of exchanging contact info with a strange man. Vittorio grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who gave you permission to hand out your number to strangers?” Silvia froze. Her eyes instantly welled up, rimmed with red. “Why can’t I be here? Why can’t I talk to whoever I want? Vittorio, you said you were giving up on me! So why do you still care what I do?! His knuckles turned bone-white. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerous, gravelly pitch. “Who said I stopped looking after you?” “You did!” Silvia cried out, her voice trembling violently. “You avoid me every single day! You refuse to even see me! You used to spoil me, Vittorio. Why did everything change so suddenly?” Hearing this, Vittorio choked on his words. “That’s because…” Standing a few feet away, I felt my heart twist painfully, as if an invisible hand were crushing it in my chest. I knew he couldn't answer her question. But a morbid part of me wondered what he would say. Would he confess that he loved her, and that hiding was the only way to keep from destroying them both? Or would he admit that the moment he laid eyes on her, he completely lost control? I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and turned to leave. I didn't have the stomach for this anymore. But then, Silvia’s sobbing pierced the air. “Can we just be as close as we used to be? Vittorio murmured in a low and hoarse voice, “You know I got married. I can’t revolve around you all the time.” Silvia suddenly snapped her head up. A dangerous, unhinged glint flashed in her tear-filled eyes. “So… you’re saying we could be exactly like before, as long as Sylvia just disappears?” I didn't have time to bother with their twisted drama. I had already picked up my bag, intending to walk away. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silvia snatch a heavy glass bottle from the table. She was rushing straight at me. Bang! The bottle smashed brutally against my head. The sickening crunch of exploding glass erupted in my ears, followed instantly by the hot, sticky sensation of blood trickling down my temple. “Sylvia!” Maggie’s piercing scream tore through the club. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming, only to see Silvia raising another bottle high above my head, her face twisted in pure madness. “Go to hell!” When the second blow came down, the world went completely black. I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading as nothing but chaotic, distant screams echoed in my ears. Chapter 2 I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull. My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up. It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.] My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. ""Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle."" she whined playfully. The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip. I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb. Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911. “I would like to file a police report.” As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury. “Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?” “Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away. “Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.” He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.” “Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?” “You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.” I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop. “I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?” Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!” He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.” I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips. “Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?” Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?” He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.” He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like. For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me. He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night. If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation. One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air. I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog. I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot. In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place. “Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.” She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.” A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face. Smack! The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room. Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?” She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!” The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me. Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him? After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face. Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering. Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. Chapter 3 The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third… I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?” Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!” With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out. In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!” When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm. “I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered. My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?” “Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.” I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?” Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.” A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?” His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.” I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio. Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor! “Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot. Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.” Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back. The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs. Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved. I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end. In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.] He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now. I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again. Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable. I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past. Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation. A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!"

"“Brother, I’ve decide to get a divorce.” There was only a moment’s dead silence on the line. Then, Gilbert Cross’s voice came through, “You just married Vittorio yesterday!” I pondered it in my mind, a bitter smile touching my lips. It wasn't yesterday. It had been exactly 6,209 days. In my previous life,for the seventeen years of my marriage to Vittorio Croft, we were indeed the picture of perfect harmony. However, our fragile illusion came into pieces the day my older sister passed away from a critical illness. Grief-stricken, Vittorio suddenly fell severely ill himself. When he finally woke up from his coma, his assistant asked, “Sir, what about Silvia Cross?” Vittorio hadn't even blinked. He replied in a flat, indifferent tone, “Don't bother with her. She was originally nothing but a burden. I married her so that I could stay by her sister's side forever — if not as a lover, then as family.” Standing right outside the door, clutching a tray of warm soup, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn on the very first morning after our wedding. We had just held the lavish ceremony, but the official paperwork hadn't been registered yet. I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I took a pen and crossed out my name on the application form. In its place, I quickly wrote down Silvia Croft. From this moment forward, my past was buried, and I would never cross paths with Vittorio again. Chapter 1 “No matter what decision you make, we will always support you. How about coming to Germany?” The words echoed in my ear as I spoke to my parents on the phone. I didn’t answer right away. Instead, the moment the call ended, I headed straight to the embassy. A few years ago, my parents had transferred their entire business overseas. They had moved abroad with my brother, leaving me behind to stay with Vittorio. Now, I was finally determined to leave. “The paperwork will be ready in a week,” the officer said with a polite smile. I gave a slight nod, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy. The cool air hit my face, and a quiet certainty settled in my chest. Everything was finally coming to end. That evening, I met up with a few friends at a bar. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot in a nightclub since marrying Vittorio. “Sylvia, what’s gotten into you today?” Maggie asked, grabbing my arm in sheer surprise. “Ever since you fell for that aloof monk, you’ve been trailing after him like a shadow. I thought you’d never set foot in places like this again!” I offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. Lifting my wine glass, I took a slow sip, letting my gaze drift into a hazy blur. “I’m done caring about him. Tonight, I’m just going to party until I drop.” But before the words even fully left my lips, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “Vittorio Croft.” I turned, my eyes landing on Vittorio striding purposefully toward Silvia Croft, his adopted sister. She was in the middle of exchanging contact info with a strange man. Vittorio grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who gave you permission to hand out your number to strangers?” Silvia froze. Her eyes instantly welled up, rimmed with red. “Why can’t I be here? Why can’t I talk to whoever I want? Vittorio, you said you were giving up on me! So why do you still care what I do?! His knuckles turned bone-white. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerous, gravelly pitch. “Who said I stopped looking after you?” “You did!” Silvia cried out, her voice trembling violently. “You avoid me every single day! You refuse to even see me! You used to spoil me, Vittorio. Why did everything change so suddenly?” Hearing this, Vittorio choked on his words. “That’s because…” Standing a few feet away, I felt my heart twist painfully, as if an invisible hand were crushing it in my chest. I knew he couldn't answer her question. But a morbid part of me wondered what he would say. Would he confess that he loved her, and that hiding was the only way to keep from destroying them both? Or would he admit that the moment he laid eyes on her, he completely lost control? I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and turned to leave. I didn't have the stomach for this anymore. But then, Silvia’s sobbing pierced the air. “Can we just be as close as we used to be? Vittorio murmured in a low and hoarse voice, “You know I got married. I can’t revolve around you all the time.” Silvia suddenly snapped her head up. A dangerous, unhinged glint flashed in her tear-filled eyes. “So… you’re saying we could be exactly like before, as long as Sylvia just disappears?” I didn't have time to bother with their twisted drama. I had already picked up my bag, intending to walk away. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silvia snatch a heavy glass bottle from the table. She was rushing straight at me. Bang! The bottle smashed brutally against my head. The sickening crunch of exploding glass erupted in my ears, followed instantly by the hot, sticky sensation of blood trickling down my temple. “Sylvia!” Maggie’s piercing scream tore through the club. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming, only to see Silvia raising another bottle high above my head, her face twisted in pure madness. “Go to hell!” When the second blow came down, the world went completely black. I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading as nothing but chaotic, distant screams echoed in my ears. Chapter 2 I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull. My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up. It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.] My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. ""Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle."" she whined playfully. The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip. I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb. Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911. “I would like to file a police report.” As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury. “Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?” “Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away. “Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.” He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.” “Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?” “You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.” I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop. “I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?” Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!” He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.” I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips. “Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?” Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?” He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.” He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like. For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me. He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night. If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation. One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air. I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog. I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot. In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place. “Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.” She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.” A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face. Smack! The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room. Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?” She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!” The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me. Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him? After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face. Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering. Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. Chapter 3 The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third… I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?” Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!” With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out. In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!” When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm. “I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered. My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?” “Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.” I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?” Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.” A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?” His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.” I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio. Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor! “Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot. Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.” Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back. The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs. Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved. I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end. In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.] He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now. I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again. Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable. I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past. Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation. A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!"

"“Brother, I’ve decide to get a divorce.” There was only a moment’s dead silence on the line. Then, Gilbert Cross’s voice came through, “You just married Vittorio yesterday!” I pondered it in my mind, a bitter smile touching my lips. It wasn't yesterday. It had been exactly 6,209 days. In my previous life,for the seventeen years of my marriage to Vittorio Croft, we were indeed the picture of perfect harmony. However, our fragile illusion came into pieces the day my older sister passed away from a critical illness. Grief-stricken, Vittorio suddenly fell severely ill himself. When he finally woke up from his coma, his assistant asked, “Sir, what about Silvia Cross?” Vittorio hadn't even blinked. He replied in a flat, indifferent tone, “Don't bother with her. She was originally nothing but a burden. I married her so that I could stay by her sister's side forever — if not as a lover, then as family.” Standing right outside the door, clutching a tray of warm soup, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn on the very first morning after our wedding. We had just held the lavish ceremony, but the official paperwork hadn't been registered yet. I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I took a pen and crossed out my name on the application form. In its place, I quickly wrote down Silvia Croft. From this moment forward, my past was buried, and I would never cross paths with Vittorio again. Chapter 1 “No matter what decision you make, we will always support you. How about coming to Germany?” The words echoed in my ear as I spoke to my parents on the phone. I didn’t answer right away. Instead, the moment the call ended, I headed straight to the embassy. A few years ago, my parents had transferred their entire business overseas. They had moved abroad with my brother, leaving me behind to stay with Vittorio. Now, I was finally determined to leave. “The paperwork will be ready in a week,” the officer said with a polite smile. I gave a slight nod, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy. The cool air hit my face, and a quiet certainty settled in my chest. Everything was finally coming to end. That evening, I met up with a few friends at a bar. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot in a nightclub since marrying Vittorio. “Sylvia, what’s gotten into you today?” Maggie asked, grabbing my arm in sheer surprise. “Ever since you fell for that aloof monk, you’ve been trailing after him like a shadow. I thought you’d never set foot in places like this again!” I offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. Lifting my wine glass, I took a slow sip, letting my gaze drift into a hazy blur. “I’m done caring about him. Tonight, I’m just going to party until I drop.” But before the words even fully left my lips, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “Vittorio Croft.” I turned, my eyes landing on Vittorio striding purposefully toward Silvia Croft, his adopted sister. She was in the middle of exchanging contact info with a strange man. Vittorio grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who gave you permission to hand out your number to strangers?” Silvia froze. Her eyes instantly welled up, rimmed with red. “Why can’t I be here? Why can’t I talk to whoever I want? Vittorio, you said you were giving up on me! So why do you still care what I do?! His knuckles turned bone-white. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerous, gravelly pitch. “Who said I stopped looking after you?” “You did!” Silvia cried out, her voice trembling violently. “You avoid me every single day! You refuse to even see me! You used to spoil me, Vittorio. Why did everything change so suddenly?” Hearing this, Vittorio choked on his words. “That’s because…” Standing a few feet away, I felt my heart twist painfully, as if an invisible hand were crushing it in my chest. I knew he couldn't answer her question. But a morbid part of me wondered what he would say. Would he confess that he loved her, and that hiding was the only way to keep from destroying them both? Or would he admit that the moment he laid eyes on her, he completely lost control? I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and turned to leave. I didn't have the stomach for this anymore. But then, Silvia’s sobbing pierced the air. “Can we just be as close as we used to be? Vittorio murmured in a low and hoarse voice, “You know I got married. I can’t revolve around you all the time.” Silvia suddenly snapped her head up. A dangerous, unhinged glint flashed in her tear-filled eyes. “So… you’re saying we could be exactly like before, as long as Sylvia just disappears?” I didn't have time to bother with their twisted drama. I had already picked up my bag, intending to walk away. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silvia snatch a heavy glass bottle from the table. She was rushing straight at me. Bang! The bottle smashed brutally against my head. The sickening crunch of exploding glass erupted in my ears, followed instantly by the hot, sticky sensation of blood trickling down my temple. “Sylvia!” Maggie’s piercing scream tore through the club. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming, only to see Silvia raising another bottle high above my head, her face twisted in pure madness. “Go to hell!” When the second blow came down, the world went completely black. I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading as nothing but chaotic, distant screams echoed in my ears. Chapter 2 I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull. My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up. It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.] My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. ""Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle."" she whined playfully. The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip. I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb. Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911. “I would like to file a police report.” As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury. “Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?” “Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away. “Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.” He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.” “Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?” “You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.” I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop. “I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?” Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!” He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.” I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips. “Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?” Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?” He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.” He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like. For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me. He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night. If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation. One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air. I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog. I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot. In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place. “Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.” She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.” A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face. Smack! The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room. Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?” She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!” The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me. Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him? After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face. Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering. Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. Chapter 3 The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third… I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?” Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!” With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out. In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!” When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm. “I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered. My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?” “Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.” I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?” Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.” A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?” His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.” I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio. Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor! “Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot. Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.” Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back. The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs. Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved. I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end. In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.] He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now. I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again. Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable. I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past. Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation. A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!"

"I’m the heroine in an erotic story. My specialty? Turning anything hot or cold into something steamy. On the first day I landed in a horror game, the boss told everyone to choose how they wanted to die. I smiled and said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” Boss: “???” Chapter 1 [Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: “Wish.”] [Please choose your cause of death.] The moment I landed in the horror game and reunited with my teammates, a strange man appeared in front of us. Thick black mist coiled around his head, hiding his face. His whole presence felt… wrong. “Shit!” the guy with dyed yellow hair cursed. “What kind of sick prank is this? You think a few cheap effects will scare me? Nice try!” He’d been cursing nonstop since the game started. No matter how the veteran players in our group tried to explain, he was convinced we were all in on some elaborate scam. Now, glaring furiously, he marched right up to the stranger and shoved him. “I’m warning you! Let me out of here, or I’ll— What the hell?!” His hand went straight through the man’s body. He stumbled back, eyes wide, staring at his hand in horror—only to watch it dissolve into a red mist before his eyes. “Wh-what’s happening? “Help me! Please—someone help me!” He cried and crawled toward us, desperate to escape. But within seconds, his whole body burst apart, blood and flesh splattering across the ground. The system’s cold, mechanical voice echoed in the air: [Death count: 1] [Current survivors: 7] [Keep up the good work, players!] The strange man never moved an inch. He simply repeated in that same flat tone: “Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: ‘Wish.’ Please choose your cause of death.” Just when everyone was at a total loss, glowing text suddenly scrolled across the air like a livestream chat. [Damn, these players are seriously unlucky. “Wish” has a zero percent clear rate—hardest dungeon ever recorded.] [The boss grants each player’s wish... but always in the most horrifying, twisted way possible.] [As soon as players enter, they face the final boss. It forces everyone to “wish” for the way they’ll die, then “mercifully” makes that wish come true.] [To survive, you have to find the one correct wish.] [Even top-tier players have failed this one. These newbies don’t look like much—how long do you think they’ll last?] After watching the guy with yellow hair explode right in front of us, no one dared to move. The silence was suffocating, stretching on and on. Finally, the boss lost patience. Its cold, distorted voice echoed through the darkness. “Since none of you have a wish,” it said, “I’ll choose for you.” A massive scythe appeared from the black mist behind it. “Wait! Wait!” A middle-aged man suddenly yelled. “I—I have one! I know how I want to die!” Everyone turned toward him. He swallowed hard and said carefully, “I choose to die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.” The words had barely left his mouth before everyone’s eyes lit up. Someone gave him a thumbs-up. “Smart move, man.” The boss lowered its scythe. “As you wish.” The middle-aged man exhaled, a relieved smile spreading across his face. One by one, the others chimed in: “Same for me! I want to die peacefully of old age too!” The boss’s voice stayed cold and flat. “As you wish.” Relief spread through the group. People even started laughing and chatting. “Good thing Pete thought of that! What a lifesaver.” “Yeah, the boss can’t touch us now. Guess we’ve already won!” Chapter 2 “Maybe this is the easiest SSS-level dungeon ever?” someone joked. I was the only one who stayed quiet, staring up at the sky. More glowing messages flashed across the air, the chat exploding in laughter. [Ugh, another bunch wishing to ‘die of old age’? How boring.] [How many times is this now? Every group that enters picks the same thing. Self-righteous idiots.] [They’ll find out soon enough why ‘Wish’ is ranked SSS.] By then, the boss had silently appeared right in front of me. “You’re the last one,” he said, voice low and cold. “So… how do you wish to die?” Well, shit. Guess this is really the end for me. Before I got dragged into this horror game, I was the heroine of an erotica—waking up every morning in bed tangled up with handsome men. Totally useless at everything else. Expecting me to come up with some clever survival plan? Not happening. I gave up instantly. If I was destined to die here, I might as well go out fulfilling my greatest wish— to turn this bleak world into one giant pleasure heaven. Doesn’t matter if it’s hot or cold—I’ll make it steamy. And honestly, even with his face hidden behind that swirling black mist, the boss’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and deep, magnetic voice were dead giveaways. The guy was built. Lust makes cowards bold. So without thinking, I said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” The boss: “???” I added helpfully, “Oh, and you’re the one doing it.” He froze, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The black mist around him stopped moving, the air went still. For a long moment, he just stood there—then slowly took a step back. I waited for a while, puzzled. But the boss never said his usual line—no “As you wish.” Instead, the system’s mechanical voice rang out: [Preliminary task: “Make a Wish” — completed.] [Please follow the Boss into the mansion.] [Main quest: Survive inside the mansion for three days.] [During these three days, random side quests will appear.] [Each completed quest grants one new wish.] [Only the player who makes the correct wish will live to the end.] By the time we reached the mansion, night had already fallen. The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze. Every inch of the wall was lined with framed photos—memorial portraits. And every photo showed one of us. Beneath each picture was a handwritten note, listing the person’s wish: [Die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.] All except mine. The words under my photo had been blacked out with thick marker. Everyone’s gaze instantly fell on me. The middle-aged man, Pete, was the first to speak. “Now that I think about it,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “You didn’t make the same wish as the rest of us, did you? You were hiding off in the corner. So, little miss, what kind of death did you choose?” Before I could answer, the boss suddenly spoke. “Players are forbidden to ask about others’ wishes.” For some reason, his tone sounded… tense. Seeing that, the others backed off, but their expressions turned smug. “Look at that—her wish got blacked out. Classic death flag,” one sneered. “She’s done for tonight.” “Who’s dumb enough to go off-script when the answer’s right there? Serves her right.” “Better for us if the dead weight drops early.” Before I knew it, I’d been completely cut out of the group. When it came time to pick rooms, they huddled together, snatching all the decent ones and leaving me with the smallest, dirtiest maid’s room. “Not like it matters,” Pete said with a smirk, holding the door half-shut. “You won’t live past tonight anyway. Might as well sleep anywhere.” When the door clicked closed, silence swallowed the house. Only the boss and I were left in the empty living room. He hovered for a moment, about to drift away. Chapter 3 “Wait!” I called out quickly. “I’m not sleeping in the maid’s room!” I hurried after him, plastering on my best grin. “You’ve got your own room in this mansion, right? How about we share a bed?” The boss said nothing. He just floated faster, like he couldn’t get away soon enough. I rushed after him. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to grant my wish? You know… shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.”” “I never agreed to that,” he said flatly, cutting me off. I frowned. “What the hell? Isn’t this dungeon called ‘Wish’? Weren’t you the one who said you’d grant every player’s wish? Why are you treating me differently? That’s discrimination! I’m filing a complaint with headquarters!” He stared at me in silence for a long moment, clearly speechless. Finally, in a resigned tone, he said, “…Fine. Come with me.” After a maze of turns, he brought me into a luxurious bedroom. The second I saw the king-sized bed in the center, I threw myself onto it with a dramatic sigh. “So soft… finally,” I groaned, stretching lazily before crossing my legs. “My legs hurt. Massage them for me.” He glanced at me once, utterly expressionless, and said nothing. I wasn’t giving up that easily. “By the way, what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you Boss forever.” He dodged the question immediately. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re a player. Focus on clearing the dungeon.” I smiled sweetly. “Then what should I call you? Baby? Honey? Hubby? Master? Daddy?” As my tone grew more and more outrageous, he finally snapped. “Luther Horden,” he blurted. “My name is Luther Horden.” For some reason, even though his voice was perfectly calm, I could hear the gritted teeth behind it. “Well then—” I started again, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Enough,” he interrupted quickly. “Go to sleep.” With a flick of his wrist, a swirl of black mist swept toward me. Before I could even react, everything went dark—like someone had flipped my power switch. I was woken by a scream the next morning. When I opened my eyes, Luther was gone from the room. I hurried to wash up and rushed down to the living room and froze. There, on the floor, lay a stranger’s body. The corpse looked ridiculously old. White hair, beard, a face carved with wrinkles—easily seventy, maybe eighty. For some reason, it also looked familiar. I scanned the room. Everyone had gathered except Pete. Their faces were stone-still. A woman with red-dyed hair, maybe in her thirties, looked around and said slowly, “I checked just now. That body on the floor… That’s Pete.” “No way,” someone shouted back. “Pete’s only in his forties. That corpse looks ancient. The ages don’t match.” The woman sighed. “Do you remember what wish we all made yesterday? ‘No sickness, no pain, die peacefully of old age.’ Pete’s death… that matches the wish. We seriously underestimated this dungeon. Thought we could get clever and skate by. An SSS-level run isn’t a joke.” Messages scrolled across the air like a live chat again. [LMAO, my favorite part—seeing cocky players crash and burn. Serves ’em right.] [Wait, didn’t everyone wish to die of old age? What did the girl in the corner wish for? I blacked out halfway through yesterday—didn’t see the rest. Can someone give a recap?] [Black screen too!] [ME too!!] [Same here!] … [Why are so many people getting black screens? I thought it was just my connection.] [Maybe she made the one correct wish, so they censored the feed? OMG. Is someone actually going to clear an SSS-level dungeon???] [You people jump to the wildest conclusions. I looked into her—total newbie. And that fragile little thing? I could slap her flat. Expecting her to beat a top-tier dungeon is hilarious.] Chapter 4 A young woman burst into tears. “What do we do now? We made the same wish as Pete. That means we’re all going to die too!” The room went dead silent. Everyone clearly had the same thought and none of their faces looked good. The red-haired woman lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly. “Not necessarily,” she said. “Remember what the system said? During these three days, it’ll issue random side quests. Each time we complete one, we get to make another wish. As long as someone figures out the right one, they’ll live. We still have a chance.” Her calm tone worked like a shot of adrenaline for the group. “I’m Cheryl,” she went on. “Before I ended up in this game, I was an executive at a multinational company. I know how to make decisions and handle pressure. If you trust me, I can lead us to victory.” When people are terrified, they’ll always look for someone to rely on. With her confidence and authority, Cheryl naturally became the group’s anchor. After claiming leadership, she gave a few motivational lines—standard pep-talk stuff. Then, the system’s cold voice echoed through the air again: [Side Quest: “The Boss’s Banquet” has been issued.] [All players are invited to join the feast!] [Quest time: Tonight, 8:00 PM.] [Participants: All surviving players.] [Hint: The banquet offers a wide variety of dishes. Each player must choose one dish to present to the Boss.] [Hint: No dish can be chosen twice.] [Hint: The player who offers the Boss’s favorite dish will earn His favor and receive another wish.] [Hint: The player who offers His least favorite dish… dies.] Cheryl’s lips curved into a confident smile. “Well,” she said, “looks like our chance just showed up.” There were still more than half a day left before the banquet. Under Cheryl’s direction, everyone split up to explore the mansion, hoping to uncover clues about the Boss’s preferences. An hour before dinner, the group gathered in the living room to share what they’d found. Cheryl spoke first. “I found tonight’s menu in the kitchen. There are six dishes total, one for each of us.” She unfolded the paper and read aloud, “Baked escargot, Caesar salad, grilled lamb chops, seared cod, creamy vegetable stew, and fruit cake. Any of these ring a bell?” A tall, thin guy raised his hand immediately. “I found a notebook in the maid’s room,” he said. “It mentioned something like, ‘The young master only eats vegetables and barely touches meat. His diet’s a mess.’ I’m guessing that ‘young master’ refers to the Boss.” A girl’s eyes lit up. “I saw the fridge, it’s full of milk and dairy stuff. So the Boss must really like creamy food. Milk and vegetables… that has to be the creamy stew!” Everyone’s faces brightened. The discovery seemed almost too easy, and for the first time, hope flickered. Cheryl tapped her long, polished nails lightly on the table. “Good work, everyone. We’ve figured out what the Boss likes. Now the question is… Who should be the one to offer the dish?” The system had made it clear: no dish could be chosen twice. Which meant only one person could win the Boss’s favor. Cheryl cleared her throat delicately. “I actually think I’ve already guessed the correct wish. If things go well, I might be able to get us all out of this dungeon alive. So, if you trust me, I’ll be the one to present the creamy stew.” The group exchanged uncertain glances. After a long hesitation, they eventually nodded in agreement. Then the girl who had first guessed the dish spoke up in a small voice…"

"“Brother, I’ve decide to get a divorce.” There was only a moment’s dead silence on the line. Then, Gilbert Cross’s voice came through, “You just married Vittorio yesterday!” I pondered it in my mind, a bitter smile touching my lips. It wasn't yesterday. It had been exactly 6,209 days. In my previous life,for the seventeen years of my marriage to Vittorio Croft, we were indeed the picture of perfect harmony. However, our fragile illusion came into pieces the day my older sister passed away from a critical illness. Grief-stricken, Vittorio suddenly fell severely ill himself. When he finally woke up from his coma, his assistant asked, “Sir, what about Silvia Cross?” Vittorio hadn't even blinked. He replied in a flat, indifferent tone, “Don't bother with her. She was originally nothing but a burden. I married her so that I could stay by her sister's side forever — if not as a lover, then as family.” Standing right outside the door, clutching a tray of warm soup, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn on the very first morning after our wedding. We had just held the lavish ceremony, but the official paperwork hadn't been registered yet. I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I took a pen and crossed out my name on the application form. In its place, I quickly wrote down Silvia Croft. From this moment forward, my past was buried, and I would never cross paths with Vittorio again. Chapter 1 “No matter what decision you make, we will always support you. How about coming to Germany?” The words echoed in my ear as I spoke to my parents on the phone. I didn’t answer right away. Instead, the moment the call ended, I headed straight to the embassy. A few years ago, my parents had transferred their entire business overseas. They had moved abroad with my brother, leaving me behind to stay with Vittorio. Now, I was finally determined to leave. “The paperwork will be ready in a week,” the officer said with a polite smile. I gave a slight nod, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy. The cool air hit my face, and a quiet certainty settled in my chest. Everything was finally coming to end. That evening, I met up with a few friends at a bar. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot in a nightclub since marrying Vittorio. “Sylvia, what’s gotten into you today?” Maggie asked, grabbing my arm in sheer surprise. “Ever since you fell for that aloof monk, you’ve been trailing after him like a shadow. I thought you’d never set foot in places like this again!” I offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. Lifting my wine glass, I took a slow sip, letting my gaze drift into a hazy blur. “I’m done caring about him. Tonight, I’m just going to party until I drop.” But before the words even fully left my lips, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “Vittorio Croft.” I turned, my eyes landing on Vittorio striding purposefully toward Silvia Croft, his adopted sister. She was in the middle of exchanging contact info with a strange man. Vittorio grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who gave you permission to hand out your number to strangers?” Silvia froze. Her eyes instantly welled up, rimmed with red. “Why can’t I be here? Why can’t I talk to whoever I want? Vittorio, you said you were giving up on me! So why do you still care what I do?! His knuckles turned bone-white. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerous, gravelly pitch. “Who said I stopped looking after you?” “You did!” Silvia cried out, her voice trembling violently. “You avoid me every single day! You refuse to even see me! You used to spoil me, Vittorio. Why did everything change so suddenly?” Hearing this, Vittorio choked on his words. “That’s because…” Standing a few feet away, I felt my heart twist painfully, as if an invisible hand were crushing it in my chest. I knew he couldn't answer her question. But a morbid part of me wondered what he would say. Would he confess that he loved her, and that hiding was the only way to keep from destroying them both? Or would he admit that the moment he laid eyes on her, he completely lost control? I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and turned to leave. I didn't have the stomach for this anymore. But then, Silvia’s sobbing pierced the air. “Can we just be as close as we used to be? Vittorio murmured in a low and hoarse voice, “You know I got married. I can’t revolve around you all the time.” Silvia suddenly snapped her head up. A dangerous, unhinged glint flashed in her tear-filled eyes. “So… you’re saying we could be exactly like before, as long as Sylvia just disappears?” I didn't have time to bother with their twisted drama. I had already picked up my bag, intending to walk away. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silvia snatch a heavy glass bottle from the table. She was rushing straight at me. Bang! The bottle smashed brutally against my head. The sickening crunch of exploding glass erupted in my ears, followed instantly by the hot, sticky sensation of blood trickling down my temple. “Sylvia!” Maggie’s piercing scream tore through the club. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming, only to see Silvia raising another bottle high above my head, her face twisted in pure madness. “Go to hell!” When the second blow came down, the world went completely black. I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading as nothing but chaotic, distant screams echoed in my ears. Chapter 2 I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull. My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up. It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.] My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. ""Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle."" she whined playfully. The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip. I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb. Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911. “I would like to file a police report.” As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury. “Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?” “Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away. “Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.” He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.” “Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?” “You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.” I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop. “I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?” Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!” He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.” I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips. “Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?” Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?” He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.” He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like. For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me. He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night. If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation. One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air. I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog. I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot. In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place. “Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.” She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.” A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face. Smack! The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room. Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?” She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!” The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me. Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him? After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face. Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering. Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. Chapter 3 The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third… I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?” Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!” With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out. In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!” When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm. “I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered. My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?” “Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.” I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?” Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.” A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?” His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.” I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio. Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor! “Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot. Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.” Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back. The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs. Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved. I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end. In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.] He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now. I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again. Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable. I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past. Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation. A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!"

"“Brother, I’ve decide to get a divorce.” There was only a moment’s dead silence on the line. Then, Gilbert Cross’s voice came through, “You just married Vittorio yesterday!” I pondered it in my mind, a bitter smile touching my lips. It wasn't yesterday. It had been exactly 6,209 days. In my previous life,for the seventeen years of my marriage to Vittorio Croft, we were indeed the picture of perfect harmony. However, our fragile illusion came into pieces the day my older sister passed away from a critical illness. Grief-stricken, Vittorio suddenly fell severely ill himself. When he finally woke up from his coma, his assistant asked, “Sir, what about Silvia Cross?” Vittorio hadn't even blinked. He replied in a flat, indifferent tone, “Don't bother with her. She was originally nothing but a burden. I married her so that I could stay by her sister's side forever — if not as a lover, then as family.” Standing right outside the door, clutching a tray of warm soup, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn on the very first morning after our wedding. We had just held the lavish ceremony, but the official paperwork hadn't been registered yet. I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I took a pen and crossed out my name on the application form. In its place, I quickly wrote down Silvia Croft. From this moment forward, my past was buried, and I would never cross paths with Vittorio again. Chapter 1 “No matter what decision you make, we will always support you. How about coming to Germany?” The words echoed in my ear as I spoke to my parents on the phone. I didn’t answer right away. Instead, the moment the call ended, I headed straight to the embassy. A few years ago, my parents had transferred their entire business overseas. They had moved abroad with my brother, leaving me behind to stay with Vittorio. Now, I was finally determined to leave. “The paperwork will be ready in a week,” the officer said with a polite smile. I gave a slight nod, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy. The cool air hit my face, and a quiet certainty settled in my chest. Everything was finally coming to end. That evening, I met up with a few friends at a bar. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot in a nightclub since marrying Vittorio. “Sylvia, what’s gotten into you today?” Maggie asked, grabbing my arm in sheer surprise. “Ever since you fell for that aloof monk, you’ve been trailing after him like a shadow. I thought you’d never set foot in places like this again!” I offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. Lifting my wine glass, I took a slow sip, letting my gaze drift into a hazy blur. “I’m done caring about him. Tonight, I’m just going to party until I drop.” But before the words even fully left my lips, a sharp voice cut through the noise. “Vittorio Croft.” I turned, my eyes landing on Vittorio striding purposefully toward Silvia Croft, his adopted sister. She was in the middle of exchanging contact info with a strange man. Vittorio grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who gave you permission to hand out your number to strangers?” Silvia froze. Her eyes instantly welled up, rimmed with red. “Why can’t I be here? Why can’t I talk to whoever I want? Vittorio, you said you were giving up on me! So why do you still care what I do?! His knuckles turned bone-white. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerous, gravelly pitch. “Who said I stopped looking after you?” “You did!” Silvia cried out, her voice trembling violently. “You avoid me every single day! You refuse to even see me! You used to spoil me, Vittorio. Why did everything change so suddenly?” Hearing this, Vittorio choked on his words. “That’s because…” Standing a few feet away, I felt my heart twist painfully, as if an invisible hand were crushing it in my chest. I knew he couldn't answer her question. But a morbid part of me wondered what he would say. Would he confess that he loved her, and that hiding was the only way to keep from destroying them both? Or would he admit that the moment he laid eyes on her, he completely lost control? I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and turned to leave. I didn't have the stomach for this anymore. But then, Silvia’s sobbing pierced the air. “Can we just be as close as we used to be? Vittorio murmured in a low and hoarse voice, “You know I got married. I can’t revolve around you all the time.” Silvia suddenly snapped her head up. A dangerous, unhinged glint flashed in her tear-filled eyes. “So… you’re saying we could be exactly like before, as long as Sylvia just disappears?” I didn't have time to bother with their twisted drama. I had already picked up my bag, intending to walk away. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silvia snatch a heavy glass bottle from the table. She was rushing straight at me. Bang! The bottle smashed brutally against my head. The sickening crunch of exploding glass erupted in my ears, followed instantly by the hot, sticky sensation of blood trickling down my temple. “Sylvia!” Maggie’s piercing scream tore through the club. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming, only to see Silvia raising another bottle high above my head, her face twisted in pure madness. “Go to hell!” When the second blow came down, the world went completely black. I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading as nothing but chaotic, distant screams echoed in my ears. Chapter 2 I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull. My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up. It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.] My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. ""Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle."" she whined playfully. The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip. I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb. Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911. “I would like to file a police report.” As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury. “Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?” “Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away. “Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.” He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.” “Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?” “You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.” I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop. “I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?” Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!” He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.” I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips. “Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?” Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?” He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.” He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like. For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me. He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night. If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation. One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air. I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog. I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot. In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place. “Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.” She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.” A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face. Smack! The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room. Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?” She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!” The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me. Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him? After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face. Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering. Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph. Chapter 3 The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third… I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?” Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!” With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out. In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!” When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm. “I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered. My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?” “Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.” I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?” Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.” A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?” His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.” I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio. Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor! “Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot. Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.” Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back. The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs. Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved. I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end. In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.] He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now. I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again. Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable. I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past. Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation. A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!"

"I’m the heroine in an erotic story. My specialty? Turning anything hot or cold into something steamy. On the first day I landed in a horror game, the boss told everyone to choose how they wanted to die. I smiled and said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” Boss: “???” Chapter 1 [Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: “Wish.”] [Please choose your cause of death.] The moment I landed in the horror game and reunited with my teammates, a strange man appeared in front of us. Thick black mist coiled around his head, hiding his face. His whole presence felt… wrong. “Shit!” the guy with dyed yellow hair cursed. “What kind of sick prank is this? You think a few cheap effects will scare me? Nice try!” He’d been cursing nonstop since the game started. No matter how the veteran players in our group tried to explain, he was convinced we were all in on some elaborate scam. Now, glaring furiously, he marched right up to the stranger and shoved him. “I’m warning you! Let me out of here, or I’ll— What the hell?!” His hand went straight through the man’s body. He stumbled back, eyes wide, staring at his hand in horror—only to watch it dissolve into a red mist before his eyes. “Wh-what’s happening? “Help me! Please—someone help me!” He cried and crawled toward us, desperate to escape. But within seconds, his whole body burst apart, blood and flesh splattering across the ground. The system’s cold, mechanical voice echoed in the air: [Death count: 1] [Current survivors: 7] [Keep up the good work, players!] The strange man never moved an inch. He simply repeated in that same flat tone: “Welcome to the SSS-level dungeon: ‘Wish.’ Please choose your cause of death.” Just when everyone was at a total loss, glowing text suddenly scrolled across the air like a livestream chat. [Damn, these players are seriously unlucky. “Wish” has a zero percent clear rate—hardest dungeon ever recorded.] [The boss grants each player’s wish... but always in the most horrifying, twisted way possible.] [As soon as players enter, they face the final boss. It forces everyone to “wish” for the way they’ll die, then “mercifully” makes that wish come true.] [To survive, you have to find the one correct wish.] [Even top-tier players have failed this one. These newbies don’t look like much—how long do you think they’ll last?] After watching the guy with yellow hair explode right in front of us, no one dared to move. The silence was suffocating, stretching on and on. Finally, the boss lost patience. Its cold, distorted voice echoed through the darkness. “Since none of you have a wish,” it said, “I’ll choose for you.” A massive scythe appeared from the black mist behind it. “Wait! Wait!” A middle-aged man suddenly yelled. “I—I have one! I know how I want to die!” Everyone turned toward him. He swallowed hard and said carefully, “I choose to die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.” The words had barely left his mouth before everyone’s eyes lit up. Someone gave him a thumbs-up. “Smart move, man.” The boss lowered its scythe. “As you wish.” The middle-aged man exhaled, a relieved smile spreading across his face. One by one, the others chimed in: “Same for me! I want to die peacefully of old age too!” The boss’s voice stayed cold and flat. “As you wish.” Relief spread through the group. People even started laughing and chatting. “Good thing Pete thought of that! What a lifesaver.” “Yeah, the boss can’t touch us now. Guess we’ve already won!” Chapter 2 “Maybe this is the easiest SSS-level dungeon ever?” someone joked. I was the only one who stayed quiet, staring up at the sky. More glowing messages flashed across the air, the chat exploding in laughter. [Ugh, another bunch wishing to ‘die of old age’? How boring.] [How many times is this now? Every group that enters picks the same thing. Self-righteous idiots.] [They’ll find out soon enough why ‘Wish’ is ranked SSS.] By then, the boss had silently appeared right in front of me. “You’re the last one,” he said, voice low and cold. “So… how do you wish to die?” Well, shit. Guess this is really the end for me. Before I got dragged into this horror game, I was the heroine of an erotica—waking up every morning in bed tangled up with handsome men. Totally useless at everything else. Expecting me to come up with some clever survival plan? Not happening. I gave up instantly. If I was destined to die here, I might as well go out fulfilling my greatest wish— to turn this bleak world into one giant pleasure heaven. Doesn’t matter if it’s hot or cold—I’ll make it steamy. And honestly, even with his face hidden behind that swirling black mist, the boss’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and deep, magnetic voice were dead giveaways. The guy was built. Lust makes cowards bold. So without thinking, I said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” The boss: “???” I added helpfully, “Oh, and you’re the one doing it.” He froze, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The black mist around him stopped moving, the air went still. For a long moment, he just stood there—then slowly took a step back. I waited for a while, puzzled. But the boss never said his usual line—no “As you wish.” Instead, the system’s mechanical voice rang out: [Preliminary task: “Make a Wish” — completed.] [Please follow the Boss into the mansion.] [Main quest: Survive inside the mansion for three days.] [During these three days, random side quests will appear.] [Each completed quest grants one new wish.] [Only the player who makes the correct wish will live to the end.] By the time we reached the mansion, night had already fallen. The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze. Every inch of the wall was lined with framed photos—memorial portraits. And every photo showed one of us. Beneath each picture was a handwritten note, listing the person’s wish: [Die peacefully of old age, no sickness, no pain.] All except mine. The words under my photo had been blacked out with thick marker. Everyone’s gaze instantly fell on me. The middle-aged man, Pete, was the first to speak. “Now that I think about it,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “You didn’t make the same wish as the rest of us, did you? You were hiding off in the corner. So, little miss, what kind of death did you choose?” Before I could answer, the boss suddenly spoke. “Players are forbidden to ask about others’ wishes.” For some reason, his tone sounded… tense. Seeing that, the others backed off, but their expressions turned smug. “Look at that—her wish got blacked out. Classic death flag,” one sneered. “She’s done for tonight.” “Who’s dumb enough to go off-script when the answer’s right there? Serves her right.” “Better for us if the dead weight drops early.” Before I knew it, I’d been completely cut out of the group. When it came time to pick rooms, they huddled together, snatching all the decent ones and leaving me with the smallest, dirtiest maid’s room. “Not like it matters,” Pete said with a smirk, holding the door half-shut. “You won’t live past tonight anyway. Might as well sleep anywhere.” When the door clicked closed, silence swallowed the house. Only the boss and I were left in the empty living room. He hovered for a moment, about to drift away. Chapter 3 “Wait!” I called out quickly. “I’m not sleeping in the maid’s room!” I hurried after him, plastering on my best grin. “You’ve got your own room in this mansion, right? How about we share a bed?” The boss said nothing. He just floated faster, like he couldn’t get away soon enough. I rushed after him. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to grant my wish? You know… shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.”” “I never agreed to that,” he said flatly, cutting me off. I frowned. “What the hell? Isn’t this dungeon called ‘Wish’? Weren’t you the one who said you’d grant every player’s wish? Why are you treating me differently? That’s discrimination! I’m filing a complaint with headquarters!” He stared at me in silence for a long moment, clearly speechless. Finally, in a resigned tone, he said, “…Fine. Come with me.” After a maze of turns, he brought me into a luxurious bedroom. The second I saw the king-sized bed in the center, I threw myself onto it with a dramatic sigh. “So soft… finally,” I groaned, stretching lazily before crossing my legs. “My legs hurt. Massage them for me.” He glanced at me once, utterly expressionless, and said nothing. I wasn’t giving up that easily. “By the way, what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you Boss forever.” He dodged the question immediately. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re a player. Focus on clearing the dungeon.” I smiled sweetly. “Then what should I call you? Baby? Honey? Hubby? Master? Daddy?” As my tone grew more and more outrageous, he finally snapped. “Luther Horden,” he blurted. “My name is Luther Horden.” For some reason, even though his voice was perfectly calm, I could hear the gritted teeth behind it. “Well then—” I started again, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Enough,” he interrupted quickly. “Go to sleep.” With a flick of his wrist, a swirl of black mist swept toward me. Before I could even react, everything went dark—like someone had flipped my power switch. I was woken by a scream the next morning. When I opened my eyes, Luther was gone from the room. I hurried to wash up and rushed down to the living room and froze. There, on the floor, lay a stranger’s body. The corpse looked ridiculously old. White hair, beard, a face carved with wrinkles—easily seventy, maybe eighty. For some reason, it also looked familiar. I scanned the room. Everyone had gathered except Pete. Their faces were stone-still. A woman with red-dyed hair, maybe in her thirties, looked around and said slowly, “I checked just now. That body on the floor… That’s Pete.” “No way,” someone shouted back. “Pete’s only in his forties. That corpse looks ancient. The ages don’t match.” The woman sighed. “Do you remember what wish we all made yesterday? ‘No sickness, no pain, die peacefully of old age.’ Pete’s death… that matches the wish. We seriously underestimated this dungeon. Thought we could get clever and skate by. An SSS-level run isn’t a joke.” Messages scrolled across the air like a live chat again. [LMAO, my favorite part—seeing cocky players crash and burn. Serves ’em right.] [Wait, didn’t everyone wish to die of old age? What did the girl in the corner wish for? I blacked out halfway through yesterday—didn’t see the rest. Can someone give a recap?] [Black screen too!] [ME too!!] [Same here!] … [Why are so many people getting black screens? I thought it was just my connection.] [Maybe she made the one correct wish, so they censored the feed? OMG. Is someone actually going to clear an SSS-level dungeon???] [You people jump to the wildest conclusions. I looked into her—total newbie. And that fragile little thing? I could slap her flat. Expecting her to beat a top-tier dungeon is hilarious.] Chapter 4 A young woman burst into tears. “What do we do now? We made the same wish as Pete. That means we’re all going to die too!” The room went dead silent. Everyone clearly had the same thought and none of their faces looked good. The red-haired woman lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly. “Not necessarily,” she said. “Remember what the system said? During these three days, it’ll issue random side quests. Each time we complete one, we get to make another wish. As long as someone figures out the right one, they’ll live. We still have a chance.” Her calm tone worked like a shot of adrenaline for the group. “I’m Cheryl,” she went on. “Before I ended up in this game, I was an executive at a multinational company. I know how to make decisions and handle pressure. If you trust me, I can lead us to victory.” When people are terrified, they’ll always look for someone to rely on. With her confidence and authority, Cheryl naturally became the group’s anchor. After claiming leadership, she gave a few motivational lines—standard pep-talk stuff. Then, the system’s cold voice echoed through the air again: [Side Quest: “The Boss’s Banquet” has been issued.] [All players are invited to join the feast!] [Quest time: Tonight, 8:00 PM.] [Participants: All surviving players.] [Hint: The banquet offers a wide variety of dishes. Each player must choose one dish to present to the Boss.] [Hint: No dish can be chosen twice.] [Hint: The player who offers the Boss’s favorite dish will earn His favor and receive another wish.] [Hint: The player who offers His least favorite dish… dies.] Cheryl’s lips curved into a confident smile. “Well,” she said, “looks like our chance just showed up.” There were still more than half a day left before the banquet. Under Cheryl’s direction, everyone split up to explore the mansion, hoping to uncover clues about the Boss’s preferences. An hour before dinner, the group gathered in the living room to share what they’d found. Cheryl spoke first. “I found tonight’s menu in the kitchen. There are six dishes total, one for each of us.” She unfolded the paper and read aloud, “Baked escargot, Caesar salad, grilled lamb chops, seared cod, creamy vegetable stew, and fruit cake. Any of these ring a bell?” A tall, thin guy raised his hand immediately. “I found a notebook in the maid’s room,” he said. “It mentioned something like, ‘The young master only eats vegetables and barely touches meat. His diet’s a mess.’ I’m guessing that ‘young master’ refers to the Boss.” A girl’s eyes lit up. “I saw the fridge, it’s full of milk and dairy stuff. So the Boss must really like creamy food. Milk and vegetables… that has to be the creamy stew!” Everyone’s faces brightened. The discovery seemed almost too easy, and for the first time, hope flickered. Cheryl tapped her long, polished nails lightly on the table. “Good work, everyone. We’ve figured out what the Boss likes. Now the question is… Who should be the one to offer the dish?” The system had made it clear: no dish could be chosen twice. Which meant only one person could win the Boss’s favor. Cheryl cleared her throat delicately. “I actually think I’ve already guessed the correct wish. If things go well, I might be able to get us all out of this dungeon alive. So, if you trust me, I’ll be the one to present the creamy stew.” The group exchanged uncertain glances. After a long hesitation, they eventually nodded in agreement. Then the girl who had first guessed the dish spoke up in a small voice…"