I get into an online relationship with a rich scion named Oliver Radcliffe, who's apparently from Canverly and loves showering me with riches. The only bad thing about him is that he's too clingy and is very prone to jealousy. So, I decide to break up with him without giving him any preamble.

Poor Oliver breaks down in tears. He claims that I've stolen his heart and that he hates my guts.

I already find him insanely annoying, so I refute, "I was just toying around with your heart, you idiot!"

Later on, I travel to Canverly on a student exchange program. But that's when I get kidnapped to a grand estate. There, I scream at Oliver angrily, only for him to smile dotingly at me.

"I can't understand what you're talking about, but I think you're just acting cute around me. Will you do the same thing when I use too much force on you in bed tonight?"

Oh no, I've screwed up this time! I can't believe I've attracted the attention of a lunatic!

I had been dating a rich Canverlian guy from the Internet, Oliver Radcliffe. His face looked like he had just stepped off the set of a gritty mob movie, and one look from him could scare a toddler into tears.

When I first saw him, I thought I had found my type—a cold, ruthless man who had a cigarette between his lips and put it out on my heart without blinking, except he turned out to be a three-in-one package of clinginess, jealousy, and a crybaby.

Every time we fought, he cried harder than I did. He would be sobbing and wiping away tears while gripping my head. He would pretend to be all "don't come near me" while clearly trying to comfort me.

Just like the first night we video-called, his tears started splattering onto the screen before I could even say a word.

Tonight, he called again while I was debating whether to block him and disappear from the Internet for good.

Once I picked up, eight-pack abs were immediately shoved in my face. It was like a 4K gym commercial had been projected onto my phone.

I wondered why Oliver had been hiding that physique for a year. Was he afraid I would have a heart attack?

Staring at the lines on his abs, I swallowed hard.

"Are we… getting spicy tonight?" he asked.

I was utterly stunned. Wasn't he supposed to be the sweet little puppy who read me the finance articles to help me fall asleep every night? Since when had he turned into a walking pheromone bomb?

Was he trying to spice things up because our relationship was getting too stale?

Fine. I made up my mind not to break up with him yet and decided to keep him under observation for a couple more days.

"Hey, handsome, are you looking for a modeling gig? I work for an underwear brand, so send me your sizes and some reference photos, and I'll give you some samples."

I was flirting so hard that I could barely control the upturned curves of my lips. Deep down, I was secretly laughing at how well Oliver was playing along.

But the next second, he slowly pulled his shirt back on and began fastening the buttons one at a time. His movements were so elegant that he could have been shooting a luxury ad.

"I forgot to get dressed. Didn't scare you, did I?" he said, tilting his head with a smirk.

"...Scare me?" I mumbled to myself. He was literally begging me to commit a crime.

I watched as his long fingers moved upward from the first button to the second and the third… With every button fastened, my heart sank a little deeper.

No one could ever understand the despair of not being able to reach my fingers through a screen.

"Seriously… You're really…

"I-I got all excited for nothing."

Oliver suddenly leaned closer to the screen. His blue eyes sparkled like they were full of crushed stars, and his voice was a gentle coo as if he was soothing a child.

"Why are you disappointed, babe? It's not like you can touch me anyway."

That hit a nerve. I finally understood why people said that foreigners sounded soft when they spoke, but their words somehow cut deeper than knives.

Oh goodness… What was the point of my spending 6,000 dollars on a phone if the touchscreen was just an illusion?

"Stop flirting with me," I said with a sigh. "My self-control's as flimsy as paper."

Eyes half-lidded, he chuckled and drawled, "I haven't even started yet, babe.

"Can I… fly over to visit? Do you think your little puppy would wag his tail for you?"

He gazed at me with eyes shining so brightly they could have lit up the night sky.

I immediately replied, "Meetups are off the table.

"The physical world is a playground for extroverts, while introverts like us only belong behind WiFi cables.

"A man's charm depends entirely on imagination, and mystery's the most important part of online dating."

…All my words were total lies. The true reason I had rejected a meetup was simple—I wanted to break up.

At the beginning, I only dated Oliver because he was fluent in Canverlian and taught me how to memorize vocabulary. I never planned to take this relationship seriously, let alone meet in person.

Deep down, I liked the dangerous type—the sharp-tongued and cold-hearted men who dumped their partners and left without a trace. He was just too sweet, and when he cried like he was the world's biggest victim, I was utterly irritated.

He had no idea I had made up my mind and was still smiling at me like an angel descended from heaven.

"Okay, I'll listen to you and behave. But if you finally can't resist wanting to see me, I'll be right in front of you."

How did Oliver and I even meet? It was through a painfully awkward chat app, where we were randomly matched.

He was a Canverlian aristocrat. His family had been breeding horses and hunting for three generations, and his estate was so massive that one could run a cross-country marathon on it.

I came from the countryside, where the backyard chicken coop was larger than the living room, and hens laid eggs to their personal background soundtrack.

I figured he would play along for two weeks at most, until the time difference ruined his sleep schedule and he ghosted. But no, he decided to go on pure romance mode instead.

While I crammed for my Canverlian proficiency exams, he sat on video calls acting as my private tutor. My pronunciation sounded like a glitching robot, but he corrected me word by word and insisted that even a simple "the" had to be perfect.

Even when we fought, he would sob and correct my grammar. "You used the wrong past tense again, babe."

Over the summer break, he would text me at 3:00 am on WhatsApp while I was in the countryside, gobbling watermelon slices.

"The chickens sound hungry, babe. They're making a lot of noise."

I nearly typed. "That's a rooster crowing. It's not hunger; it's a morning rhapsody."

Oliver might not understand everything I was saying, but he was attentive and thoughtful. Besides, the most ridiculous part was that he was shockingly loaded.

One day, I collapsed onto my bed in exhaustion and casually whined, "I don't want to work anymore. I wish I just had a husband who'd send me money every day."

He did not argue or call me greedy. Instead, all he did was send me money.

"Incoming transfer of 520,000 Canverlian dollars."

…

The notifications continued until there were 12 bank transfers in total.

Utterly shocked, I hopped to my feet and screamed, "Stop! Stop! Stop! I was just joking! Stop sending me money!"

He solemnly replied, "My wallet's about to burst, so could you help me spend my money? I'll only understand why I earn money if you're willing to use it."

I stared at the figure and counted the digits over and over until my lips curled up into a grin before I could stop it. Then, I snapped back to reality.

Heavens… Were those Canverlian dollars?

I was not a gold digger, but that sheer amount of money was enough to boil my brain.

I was lazy, greedy, and loved taking advantage of him. Honestly, these Canverlian dollars were the only thing that kept this relationship alive for over a year, but now, Oliver was asking to meet in person.

I was screwed. My four-month student exchange application for Canverly was about to be approved, and if I dragged this out any longer, I would soon be in Canverly and literally be standing at his doorstep. How was I supposed to escape then?

…

A chance to break up fell right into my lap by accident.

On one sleep-deprived afternoon, I wanted to text Oliver after our video call. "I'm going to sleep for an hour or so."

My finger slipped, and I ended up typing, "I'm going to sleep with a hottie for an hour or so."

Oliver did not understand how Crisean typing worked, so the idea of a typo never crossed his mind. He began firebombing my phone with messages like a crazed beagle.

"One lover at home and another abroad, huh? Is this why you won't let me come over? Are you afraid I'll run into him?

"What does a college student have that I don't?

"Please don't go to other men. I'm flying over right now, so just wait for me, alright?

"Please don't sleep with him. I'll literally cry.

"Babe, are you listening? I'll seriously cry for you.

"No! Babe! My heart's broken!

"I feel old now. You're letting me expire and making my heart sick.

"Can we just create a three-person group chat? You guys can talk, while I won't say anything and just watch; how about that?

"Why aren't you answering, babe? Is that guy not letting you use your phone?"

I had my phone on silent mode and slept for more than an hour. When I woke up to a screen full of voice notes, I bolted upright and replied with a single voice message.

"Let's break up."

The crybaby immediately spiraled again, so I decided that this was the perfect chance to end things.

Oliver's video call came in almost three seconds later.

"What's going on? Why are you breaking up? Did he talk you into this?

"I suddenly don't mind if you have another lover back home, but just don't break up with me, alright?"

His voice was urgent, and his dark brows were tight with worry.

I stared at his ridiculously handsome face on the screen and gritted my teeth.

Short-term pain was better than long-term agony, and no matter how good-looking Oliver was, he was only meant to be a passing character in my life.

I began typing on my phone.

"This is how you've always been—clingy and paranoid. If I'm slow to reply, you claim you can smell me talking to someone else.

"Now, you immediately think I'm cheating the moment I test you a little. You don't trust me at all.

"Long-distance relationships without security are bound to end sooner or later, aren't they? We were just playing around anyway."

Oliver's deep eyes fixed on me with an oppressive intensity.

"Playing around? I don't believe it!

"Babe, out of all foreigners out there, you chose to play with me, and that means you love me!

"I shouldn't have doubted you, babe. I'll write a formal apology letter."

I just told Oliver that everything was just a game, and instead of getting mad, he confessed his love. What exactly was going on in his head?

"Stop acting so innocent, Oliver Radcliffe. Canverlians are open, and you've probably dated more people than my shoe size.

"Did you get bored with the blond-haired, blue-eyed women and want something new? Is that why you decided to settle down with an honest woman like me?"

Oliver was utterly stunned and stared at me with pure disbelief.

"How could you think of me like that? My heart isn't dirty because you're the only person who's ever lived in it.

"I really like you, and I promise that I'm taking this relationship seriously. Can we please not fight?"

Sure enough, he was impossible to shake off.

I pushed the phone stand further away and crossed my arms. "We aren't fighting; we're breaking up!

"Do you understand that this is a breakup, the kind we never get back together?

"I was just playing with your feelings and targeting your money. You were too generous, and now that I've had enough, there's no point in entertaining you anymore."

When Oliver heard the word "breakup", his eyes immediately turned red-rimmed.

"I still have plenty of money, so go ahead and keep up with your lies and tricks.

"I like it when you spend my money, and I'm glad I have this money so I can give you a good life."

I swore that I almost got convinced for a second…

"I'll be honest with you—I passed my Canverlian proficiency test, and my Canverlian is fluent now. I don't want money, and all I want is a clean breakup from you!" I said it with the self-righteousness of someone who was proud of their lies.

Oliver got so mad that he started wailing. "No! You don't like me at all! You used me and did everything just to learn Canverlian!

"I'll never help you with those Temu discount shopping links again!"

While he threw a helpless fit of rage, I almost laughed. I did not mind saying goodbye to him, my discount-sharing contact."

"How could you say I used you?" I snapped back. "I taught you Crisean, too, didn't I? Crisean is clearly harder, and if anything, you got the better deal."

Oliver stared at me with those teary, pitiful puppy eyes. "Actually, your Crisean wasn't even that great. The first thing you taught me was swear words so I'd understand when you were cursing me out, right?"

He was crying beautifully with the look of a damsel in distress that made me feel guilty. For fear that I would soften, I looked away and pretended to be impatient.

"Are you done crying? Hang up when you are.

"We were just playing around, dumb foreign mutt."

I said the cruelest things I could think of with resolve and coldly watched him cry. When he knew that I was not going to comfort him anymore, and that I would just insult him, his crying quieted down to a red-eyed sobbing.

"When you loved me, you called me your puppy! You said my clumsy Crisean was cute like a puppy who just turned into a human trying to talk to its owner.

"Now that we're breaking up, I'm just a dumb mutt and a foreigner!

"I hate you for stealing my heart forever! You're wicked, and I hate you so much! You've ruined my whole life!"

That was a passionate testimony, but I did not want to hear any of it.

When I hung up with a clean click, my ears were finally at peace, but my heart felt heavy and stifling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

The way Oliver cried kept flashing through my mind—tears and snot all over his face, gasping like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and wiping his tears while screaming, "Don't go."

Was he auditioning for a soap opera or something?