At the wedding, Adrian Gilbert had just slipped a hundred-billion-dollar diamond ring onto my finger—then turned around and started auctioning our intimate photos.

He shoved me aside where I stood frozen and pulled his childhood sweetheart up onto the stage.

"Vanessa, use these to practice. That way you won't be nervous at the international auction house."

The guests roared with laughter.

"Vanessa Gill suddenly wants to play auctioneer, and Mr. Gilbert's putting on quite the show."

"He really is something—selling photos of his own wife."

My face went cold. I turned to leave.

But the three younger brothers I'd raised with my own hands blocked my path.

Ethan, the eldest, was stern and cold. "You're just leaving? Where does that leave Vanessa's dignity?"

Marcus, the second, clamped down on my wrist. "It's just some photos. Even your fiancé doesn't mind. Why are you overreacting?"

The youngest flashed a goofy grin. "Vanessa's just having fun, and you got famous too. Win-win, right?"

The three of them tugged and pulled until I was standing directly under the main screen.

Forced to witness the live spectacle they'd personally staged for Vanessa Gill.

The System, silent for ten years, came online.

[Host humiliation count has reached 99. Mission complete.]

[Do you wish to leave this world?]

I nodded without hesitation.

But when I really left—why did the four men who'd treated me like Vanessa's toy go mad?

——

[World departure countdown: 180 minutes.]

The cold mechanical voice echoed in my head.

My gaze drifted from Adrian and Vanessa to the three brothers before me.

I looked at Ethan Sullivan. The eldest. The one I'd raised with my own hands.

"Ethan. Do you remember how many times you've thrown me under the bus for Vanessa Gill?"

My voice was soft, but it reached him clearly.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face—like something surfaced—but indifference swallowed it just as fast.

Right. Five years. Countless incidents.

How could he remember?

But I remembered.

The first time, Adrian switched my juice for liquor to make Vanessa laugh.

I was allergic. Hives covered my body. I was rushed to the hospital, barely breathing.

Back then, Ethan wasn't the Mr. Sullivan who commanded a business empire. He'd stormed into the Gilbert estate and beaten Adrian bloody—nearly got hauled off to the precinct by the Gilbert family.

Just like when we were at our poorest, when we couldn't afford a single meal, he'd still shove the only bun he'd begged for into my hands.

"Serena, I want to give you the best."

But from the day he met Vanessa Gill, everything changed.

"It's nothing. I don't remember."

His voice was clipped. Impatient.

"Vanessa's just messing with you. She never really hurt you."

"Adrian's already yours. What more do you want?"

Right. Just messing around.

The allergic reaction that nearly killed me.

The contract I'd spent months securing—ruined.

Being abandoned deep in the mountains, almost torn apart by wolves.

And now—countless leering gazes below, practically stripping through my wedding dress.

Vanessa Gill's idea of "harmless fun."

I didn't argue. I just asked Ethan one more time.

"So you really don't remember?"

I'd told him. Once Vanessa humiliated me ninety-nine times, I would leave.

"Serena Sullivan!" He lost all patience. "Drop the victim act! Today is Vanessa's big day—don't you dare make things difficult for her!"

A sigh of relief escaped me.

The weight I'd been carrying finally lifted.

When I was little, I promised Ethan I'd stay with him for a lifetime. Now he's the one who doesn't remember first.

So it doesn't count as me breaking my promise.

I smiled—a real smile, from somewhere deep inside.

"Okay." I breathed out. "Ethan, I don't owe you anymore."

As I spoke, a lecherous old man climbed onto the stage, grabbing at my clothes. "Who knows if those photos are Photoshopped? Let me inspect the goods."

Ethan stepped in front of me instinctively and kicked the man away. "With your filthy hands you dare touch her?!"

The man rolled across the floor, crashing through a row of tables. Every guest went still, as if remembering an old saying that had circulated through the city years ago—that if you messed with Serena Sullivan, the three Sullivan brothers would chase you overseas and still grind your bones to dust.

I looked at Ethan, who was practically ready to kill someone, and felt something complicated twist in my chest. Why bother? The ones who'd tied me up here to be humiliated by anyone—that was them.

Across the room, Vanessa frowned.

Ethan snapped back to himself. He yanked off my shawl. "Here—the birthmark matches the photo exactly. In a proper auction, who would come paw at the merchandise? Follow some rules. Don't ruin Vanessa's mood."

Oh. So it was still for her.

I pulled my gaze away from Ethan and looked toward my second brother—the one who'd been sickly and frail since childhood, who'd basically grown up on my back. Marcus walked toward me. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes held no warmth at all.

"Be good and cooperate, Serena." He adjusted his glasses. "It'll be over soon. This is a very fair trade. Vanessa gave Adrian to you—let you become Mrs. Gilbert. Now you let her vent a little. That's only right."

He looked all business. Exactly like the frail boy in my memory.

When we were little, every time I carried him to the hospital, he'd carefully record another entry in his little notebook. He said he owed all of it to his sister, and he had to repay it for a lifetime. I once secretly looked at that notebook. On the last page, on the day he recovered, he'd written: How I wish I could stay sick forever, so I could keep clinging to my sister's side forever.

I pulled myself back to the present and looked at Marcus.

I didn't question him like before about what I supposedly owed Vanessa. Instead, I asked softly, "Marcus, for Vanessa, how many times have you messed with me now?"

He remembered.

"Ninety-nine times."

He said the number clearly, then cut off whatever I was about to say. "Stop with that stupid stuff about being a 'tasker'—that if you get humiliated a certain number of times, you'll disappear. Look, this is already the ninety-ninth time." The corner of his mouth curled. "Aren't you still standing here perfectly fine? Serena, don't use childish threats on us."

The moment he finished speaking—

Warm liquid, without any warning, surged from my nose.

One drop. Two. They splattered onto my pure white wedding dress, spreading into a glaring red stain.

The calm on Marcus's face shattered.

He grabbed ice water, tissues—nothing he did could stop the blood pouring out of me. He'd been sick so long he'd practically become his own doctor, and he knew this wasn't normal. His voice cracked as he shouted, helpless, trembling.

"Doctor! Get a doctor—now!"

But the doctor who rushed over and examined me couldn't find anything wrong.

Across the room, Vanessa frowned. "Serena, are you deliberately making trouble?"

"I just got this place lively, and you go and make yourself look like that."

"You're killing my appetite—how am I supposed to sell your photos now?"

Marcus released me, his gaze colder and sharper than before.

"Serena, you really opened my eyes."

"It's just a few photos. Was all this really necessary?"

The weakness from having my life force extracted by the System washed over me, and I shook my head feebly.

"Marcus, I didn't."

"I told you before—I won't lie to you."

Marcus stiffened, remembering the promise we once made.

To earn his medical bills, I'd taken a tutoring job—but the student treated me like a pony to ride around on.

Marcus came to pick me up after my shift. He saw everything.

He burst into loud sobs, saying I'd clearly told him I was going to help someone with homework.

I coaxed him over and over, until finally I promised I would never lie to him again. Only then did he stop crying.

Little Marcus solemnly wrote in a small notebook, one entry after another, every wrong I'd suffered.

He said, "Everyone who bullies Serena—I'm going to make them regret it."

But now, Marcus only snorted.

"Still being stubborn. Since you like playing these little tricks, let's play bigger!"

He pointed at the bloodstains on my wedding dress and shouted to the guests below:

"Red fallen on white frost—doesn't it look familiar?"

"Starting now, we're auctioning off Serena's first-time photos!"

An even more heated wave surged through the crowd.

Ethan and Marcus both stopped looking at me.

The youngest, Lucas, walked toward me instead, eyes bright with interest.

"Serena, fun, right?"

Smiling, he stuffed a lollipop into my hand—strawberry milk, my favorite.

Since we were little, he was the youngest, yet the best at cheering me up.

When we slept under bridges, he would venture out and pick me a bunch of nameless wildflowers.

When vicious dogs chased us, he would throw his small body in front of mine, even if he got bitten bloody.

He said, "Serena, don't cry. With me here, you have to keep smiling."

Those days—me as a kid taking care of three even smaller kids—were brutal.

But because of him, that stretch of memories actually carried a sweetness.

Now, with the candy in my mouth, it was so sweet it made me sick, but my heart was bitter as herbs.

I spoke softly, voice muffled: "Lucas, I'm leaving."

"In the future, treat yourself a little better."

"You give all your candy away, and you'll be the one who suffers."

The smile on Lucas's face froze. Eyes bloodshot, he roared:

"Don't act like you understand me so well!"

"If it weren't for you, Charlotte would still be alive!"

I didn't speak.

Charlotte was Vanessa's best friend.

The moment I saw her, the System sounded an alarm.

[Warning: This person will cause Lucas Sullivan to fall into depravity, become disabled, and ultimately die a miserable death.]

That was the little brother who would dig a broken doll out of the trash, wash it clean, clumsily sew it back together—just to make me smile.

How could I watch him walk toward an ending like that.

I intervened.

The price was ten years of my real-world lifespan, taken by the System as punishment.

Seeing that I didn't speak, Lucas got even angrier. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.

The crisp sound echoed through the noisy hall.

The candy was knocked from my mouth. Several teeth rolled onto the floor along with it.

I didn't cry.

I only lifted my head, spread my lips—ignoring the gap where my teeth had been—and smiled at him.

This was what I had promised Lucas.

No matter when, as long as he was there, I had to be happy.

One last time—I wanted to keep my word.

Lucas froze completely, as if someone had him by the throat.