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?

To be honest, I did waver for a few seconds back then. But I knew better that virtual love always ended up frozen on top of some snow-capped mountain peak. Once the sun set, even the shadows disappeared.

No matter how intense or passionate the feelings between Oliver and me were, they could never survive the different time zones, oceans between us, and three years without seeing each other once.

Once was enough. We each had our own paths, so there was no point in dragging each other down.

Back then, I had no idea that on the other end of the ocean, Oliver flung his phone into a corner of the couch after getting dumped. He picked up a handgun and fired three consecutive shots into the bullseye.

Then, he smirked and spat, "Alright then. I guess playing nice doesn't work anymore."

…

Last winter, Oliver said Canverly was so cold it felt like frost crept into the bones.

I asked, "Is it colder than my place, Glaciara?"

He replied, "Not even close. Glaciara has you in it."

After we broke up this Christmas, I flew to Canverly alone as an exchange student. He must not have expected me to come.

I purposely picked a fight and ended things before I arrived, just so he wouldn't see me and bother me. Canverly was huge, and I was confident that if he did not search for me on purpose, we could live a lifetime without crossing paths.

But Canverly could be ridiculously small.

I was buying milk at a convenience store when I turned around and nearly crashed into an acquaintance I had not seen in three years. He was my high school deskmate, Sean Murphy.

He was studying abroad in Canverly and living right next door to me. Now, he owned a goofy border collie that wagged its tail like it was remote-controlled.

The first time we ran into each other, he was heading downstairs, taking out the trash, and waving goodbye to a group of my friends.

When he looked up, his eyes immediately lit up. "Summer Reed? Holy shit, is that you?

"Your Canverlian sounds native now! It's way better than in high school; you used to avoid Conversation Group like the plague.

"Did you hire a private tutor?"

I laughed. "Not exactly a tutor, but I dated a Canverlian guy online."

When he burst out laughing, I snapped, "What's so funny?"

He was smiling so hard his eyes curved into mini crescents. "Nothing. It's just the first time I've heard of anyone using online dating to scam someone for free lessons. Others scam for money or love, while you scam for elective credits."

"You bet," I said with a shrug. "I also scammed good looks, sincere hearts, and a candlelit dinner I never got to eat."

Sean laughed so hard he nearly tripped over his dog.

He was always the refined type with clean, gentle facial features and a scholarly vibe. Back in high school, the number of female students in our class who were secretly crushing on him could have formed a choir, but nobody dared confess.

He looked like a top-tier scholar, but he was cold to the bone. If he were ever handed a love letter, he would probably respond with an essay titled "The Impact of Adolescent Romance on Learning Efficiency", then submit both copies to the homeroom teacher.

Running into an old friend in a foreign country slowly drew us back together. During the evening dog walks, he would casually hand me two boxes of cookies and chocolate he had baked himself.

Nobody would believe it. The science geek who used to obsess over mathematical theorems was now making pastries better than five-star hotels. I figured that too much bland local food had nearly erased his will to live.

On the way back to my apartment, I was caught off guard when a black car screeched to a halt, and two bulky men lunged out. One grabbed my arms, the other covered my mouth, and they hauled me into the car.

The car sped off like it was fleeing a crime scene. The windows were heavily tinted. It was pitch black outside, and so quiet in the car that I could hear my own heartbeat.

I tried a line in Canverlian. "I'm broke. No money."

They would surely realize that I was just a useless, poor female student.

That was when a kidnapper slowly spoke, each word thick with an accent, "Hel-lo. No… need money. I… have a salary. Thank you."

I was utterly dumbfounded. "You're such a polite kidnapper."

"Thank you for the compliment." He solemnly nodded.

"Can you understand me?"

"I can," he replied and tugged at his collar. "I'm… half Crisean."