The hospital was in chaos.

Caesar almost roared as he grabbed the department head who had rushed over. "Save her! Save her first! Use the best medicine! The best doctors! Hurry!"

His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shook. All his fear and panic locked onto the person wheeled into the emergency room.

When things finally calmed down, a single thought slammed into his half-frozen mind.

Ivy!

His heart seized. He reached for his phone, trying to call his assistant and send him back to the crash site for her, but his fingers were stiff and clumsy.

Then, he turned and saw her. Ivy was stumbling toward him from the end of the hallway. She moved slowly, like every step was on broken glass.

The blood on her forehead had dried into dark streaks against her pale face as dust covered her clothes. She looked wrecked and weak.

Caesar felt a sharp pain in his heart as he almost ran to her, grabbing her arm. "Ivy. Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Just now, I..."

The words became jumbled. Seeing how white her face was, a late rush of panic hit him.

"Florence passed out! I didn't forget you! I didn't mean to!"

Ivy raised her eyes, but her gaze was empty. It landed on his face, but it was like she saw nothing at all.

She gently pulled her arm free and didn't answer.

That silence rattled Caesar even more. His eyes looked down without thinking, then they froze.

A long, ugly gash ripped Ivy's calf. The skin was peeled back in a gory fashion. A whole patch of bruises and scrapes spread around it, with blood and dirt mixed on her bruises. And just above it were older scars, pale against her fair skin.

He knew Ivy scarred easily. Even a small cut would leave a mark.

For a decade, he had protected her well. He had barely let her get hurt at all.

"Doctor! Come here, now!" Caesar's voice snapped as he dragged over a passing doctor. "Look at her! Use the best medicine and the best treatment! You can't leave a scar behind, you hear me?!"

He pressed a hand to Ivy's shoulder urgently, trying to steady her.

"Don't be afraid. It's alright.

Modern medicine has come a long way. It won't leave a scar."

Ivy looked at the fear and confusion in his eyes and felt dazed for a beat.

The door to the emergency room opened, and a nurse stuck her head out. "Mr. Shepherd! Ms. Lane is awake! She's emotionally very unstable and keeps crying. She says she wants to see you!"

Caesar was stunned and turned at once. The worry in his eyes shifted instantly.

The nurse added again in a whisper, "The cut on her cheek is deep and badly infected, with extensive tissue damage. Even after cleaning, it will be hard to heal normally… It may leave a permanent sunken scar and could even affect her facial muscles."

Florence's broken sobs carried from inside, raw and desperate.

Caesar's expression shifted repeatedly. He looked toward the ER, then whipped back to Ivy's leg. Turmoil was in his eyes.

Then, he walked over and stopped in front of Ivy like he had made up his mind. His voice came out dry and strained.

"Ivy... Florence's face is hurt. The doctor says she needs a small patch of healthy skin for a graft."

Ivy jerked her head up, staring at him as if she had misheard. She shook her head and took a step back.

"Just a small patch," Caesar said quickly.

He couldn't hold her gaze as his eyes kept sliding toward the emergency room, like Florence's sobs were pulling him by the collar.

"She's young. If her face is ruined, her life is over! Ivy..." He paused, and the next words seemed to scorch him, but he forced them out anyway. "Just consider it as you returning the favor. I've taken care of you for ten years, after all."

Returning the favor.

Those three words pierced through Ivy and tore her apart.

She stared at the man in front of her, so familiar but like a stranger at the same time. She saw the pain on his face as he worried for someone else. She saw her own torn leg, the wound he had just sworn would not leave a scar.

A bitter wave of hurt and despair rose in her chest and swallowed her whole.

She opened her mouth, but no voice came out.

In the end, she moved slowly and gave one small nod.

Caesar seemed to breathe out in relief. At the same time, he looked like something had caused him pain.

He turned his eyes away quickly and yelled at the doctor, "Quick! Arrange for the surgery! Use the best anesthetics! Don't let her feel any pain!"

Then, he rushed into the emergency room to comfort the crying girl.

Ivy was wheeled into the operating room. She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Before the anesthesia took effect, her last thought was that this was fine.

One patch of skin.

To give back the decade she owed him.

-

When Ivy woke up, she could still feel the effects of the anesthesia. Her head felt heavy and thick.

A deep ache pulsed in her leg.

She turned her head with effort.

In the hospital ward, Caesar sat on the couch across from her. However, his attention was fully on the slim figure in his arms.

Florence had gauze on her face. She was against his chest, sobbing quietly.

Caesar held her carefully, his fingers patting her back in a slow rhythm as he soothed her in a gentle voice. "Don't cry. It's over now. The graft went really well. There won't be a scar. I'm right here for you."

His voice was soft, and he was so focused. Florence was his entire world.

Ivy slowly looked away. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the edge of the blanket.

Thick layers of gauze wrapped her thigh.

At the edge, the exposed skin was swollen and red.

She had always been terrified of scars.

Now, she had one for real.

Her heart was in so much pain that she felt like a strip of flesh had been taken away.

But that was everything now.

One patch of skin.

A decade.

They were even now.

The wound on Ivy's leg healed slowly. A dull ache pulsed day and night.

When the doctor removed the gauze to check on the healing progress, he frowned and warned her repeatedly.

"You need to watch what you eat. No alcohol, no spicy food, nothing that could cause inflammation. Not even a little. Otherwise, your wound will get infected easily, and the scar will get even worse."

Caesar stood beside her, listening closely and nodding. "I understand, doctor. You can trust me."

Back home, Caesar loosened his tie and called Ivy as she started walking up the stairs slowly.

"There's an important party tonight. Florence is coming, too. It's her first time at an event like that, and she doesn't know the rules. Keep an eye on her."

Ivy didn't stop. Her shoulders stiffened a little. "Sure."

The banquet hall was all sparkling, smelling nice, and full of shiny smiles.

Ivy wore a simple black evening gown and did her best to blend into the background.

Florence wore a bright pink dress and stayed close to Caesar's side, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity.

Whispers stuck to Ivy like flies, buzzing around her without stopping.

"Look. The original and the replacement both showed up."

"It's obvious that Mr. Shepherd is spoiling the younger one lately. He takes her everywhere."

"Ivy's probably about to lose her place. A decade or not, men are men in the end."

Each line was a blade, slicing a heart that was already bleeding.

When Ivy stepped out of the restroom, she barely had time to focus before a hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her into a corner.

Caesar's face was dark, impatience and anger set deep in his eyes. "Where did you go? Didn't I tell you to watch after Florence?"

His grip hurt. But before Ivy could say anything, he was already dragging her back toward the center of the hall.

The air was tight with tension.

The burly Mr. Smith had a damp patch spread across his chest. He stank of alcohol as he pointed at Florence, who stood there trembling with red eyes while he yelled angrily at her.

"Are you blind?! Do you think you can afford to pay for this suit?"

Florence shrank behind Caesar immediately, crying like a frightened child. "Caesar, I didn't mean it. He… He touched me first, so I just..."

Caesar's expression sank. He pulled her closer and faced Mr. Smith, saying, "It's just an accident, Mr. Smith. There's no need to make a scene. I'll pay ten times the cost of the suit. I'll apologize on her behalf."

"Apologize?" Mr. Smith sneered.

He was clearly drunk and in no mood to simply let things ease.

"That isn't how you show favor for someone, Mr. Shepherd! Apologies should be sincere! Have her..." He pointed at Florence. "Drink all this wine! Every last drop of it! Otherwise, we're not finished unless that happens!"

He was holding a full bottle of hard liquor.

Florence let out a strangled scream and held Caesar's arm. "I don't want to! I can't drink that. I'll die!"

Caesar's brows turned into a furrow.

Mr. Smith chuckled, his filthy gaze sliding between Ivy and Florence. "How about this, Caesar? You choose. One of them drinks."

"Either her…" He first pointed at Florence. Then, he pointed at Ivy. "Or her."

Every eye in the room locked on Caesar. His jaw tightened. His gaze flicked between them.

He hesitated for less than three seconds before pointing at Ivy. He didn't even look at her as he said in a low and cold voice, "She can drink it."

Ivy thought her ears were ringing.

The doctor's warning was echoing in her head.

The unhealed wound on her leg still throbbed.

But he had forgotten.

Or… He simply didn't care anymore.

Ivy looked at Caesar. All of his attention was on the shaking Florence in his arms. He patted Florence's back, murmuring to her, and never glanced Ivy's way.

So… This was what it felt like when a heart finally died.

Ivy's lips formed a smile, but no one was sure if it was really a smile out of joy or something else.

She did not speak. She did not look at anyone. She stepped forward and grabbed the bottle.

The first quaff tore down her throat like burning fire.

Her stomach lurched.

One quaff.

Two quaffs.

Three quaffs...

The sneers around her blurred into noise. All she could see was Caesar's back as he shielded Florence.

Ten quaffs. Not a drop left in the bottle.

Ivy set the empty bottle down hard on the table. Her throat burned so badly she could barely force any words out. Her chest felt hollow, like someone had dug straight through it and left a void in its place.

"Is that enough?" Ivy asked, her voice hoarse.

Mr. Smith froze, clearly not expecting her to finish it so thoroughly.

He simply snorted and waved it off.

Only then did Caesar seem to notice Ivy was done drinking from the bottle. His brows tightened for a moment, but Florence sobbed again, and his attention snapped right back to her.

Ivy turned and stumbled away, heading straight for the restroom.

She shoved the door shut, braced both hands on the cold sink, and retched hard, but nothing came out.

She was in so much pain that cold sweat broke. Her fingers shook as she lifted her skirt to check the wound, searching for fresh blood, for any sign it had split open.

She leaned toward the spot that hurt most. Without thinking, she blew on it softly, the way she used to when she was a child and had no one to comfort her but herself.

Suddenly, the adjacent stall was filled with the labored breaths of a man and a woman.

Caesar's voice, thick and hungry, came first. "You little witch… You really know how to get to me."

Florence's laugh was soft, teasing, broken by gasps. "What about Ivy?"

"What about her?" Caesar's voice dropped, then turned muffled, followed by the sound of kissing and the rustle of fabric. "Right now, you're the only one that matters."

The sounds grew louder.

They didn't even care where they were.

Ivy froze even as she bent over, the pain hit her so sharply she could barely breathe.

The banquet slowly quieted as it wound down.

Someone suggested a group photo, and laughter rose as people drifted toward the center.

Caesar found Ivy standing alone in the shadowed corner.

There was almost no color in her face. He walked over, his voice softer now, with a faint edge of guilt. He raised a hand like he was going to touch her cheek, but she tilted her head and avoided him.

His hand hung in the air for a moment before he let it back down. "Does your leg still hurt a lot?"

He lowered his voice.

"When we get back, I'll contact Professor Weaver. He has a new specialty drug from overseas. It's supposed to be best for scars. I won't let you end up with one."

Ivy raised her eyes. They slid over his face, calm and empty, then drifted past him to Florence, who was lifting the hem of her dress and hurrying over.

Both their faces were faintly red from alcohol.

Ivy saw it clearly. Bitterness rose in her throat.

"Okay," she said softly.

Caesar looked surprised by how obedient she was.

In the past, she would have fought him, demanded answers, cried, and made a scene. He studied Ivy's excessively calm face.

"You seem to have quieted down recently," he commented, his voice holding a curious hint.

Ivy didn't answer.

Quiet?

She had screamed herself hoarse before. She had cried. She had confronted him.

All it got her was his cold shoulder and his growing impatience, and then even more tenderness toward Florence.

As if her pain was proof she was childish and worthless.

Now, she was going to leave soon.

The visa approval would come soon.

None of this mattered anymore.

Even arguing with him in the final moments felt pointless.

The crowd pressed in as the photographer called for everyone to look at the camera.

Boom!

A deep, terrifying blast tore open above them. The crystal chandelier shook violently, then turned dark. The whole banquet hall started to shake.

"Aaaah!"

Screams, sobs, and the crashing sounds of falling objects swallowed everything around them in an instant.

Chunks of the ceiling broke loose and crashed down. People scattered in panic in all directions.

They were standing near the center, the most dangerous place to be.

A thick decorative plaster slab dropped straight toward them with a rushing whistle.

In that split second, Caesar's expression changed. He grabbed Florence almost on instinct and yanked her into his arms. He covered her with his own body as they dove under a heavy dining table, where it was safer.

Ivy had been right beside him. She even felt the wind of his movement as he lunged away.

She froze, stunned by the sudden disaster as she stared at Caesar and chose to protect someone else without any hesitation.

Ten years…

Memories flashed before her like a film.

Him in his expensive suit, reaching a hand out to her like a beam of light in that run-down apartment building.

His clumsy fingers tied up her hair.

The sweetness of the first slice of cake he ever bought her.

The love that had once existed in his eyes through those ninety-nine proposals.

Love and hate knotted together across ten long years.

And in the end, there was nothing left.

Then, Ivy saw it.

Another sharp chunk of debris was falling in a straight line toward the back of Caesar's head.

She didn't have time to think, and her body moved before her mind did. She rushed forward and shoved him hard, forcing him out from under the table where he was still curled around Florence.

Almost at the same time...

Bang!

Heavy debris and broken decorations crashed down and swallowed her.

Caesar went sprawling. When he turned back, he was shocked to see what had happened.

Where Ivy had been was now a mound of rubble. Only one pale hand stuck out, limp, fingers slightly curled.

He stared, blank.

"Caesar, I'm scared! I'm so scared!" Florence sobbed in his arms, yanking him back to the moment.

Rescue workers rushed in and started searching through the wreckage. They were found quickly enough.

Medical staff checked through them quickly, voices clipped and urgent. "Stretchers! Two injured here! The ambulance can take two more! Move!"

Caesar helped Florence to her feet. She was shaking and crying.

Almost without thinking, he pointed toward Florence's face urgently and said, "Take her first! She just had a skin graft on her face. She can't risk an infection. We can't afford to make mistakes."

Only then did he look at Ivy on the ground, her breathing faint. His brows turned into a frown as he spoke quickly, like he was trying to calm her.

"Ivy, hang in there. I've had them call a second ambulance. Stay with me. You'll be fine!" He paused, tightened his hold around Florence, and added, "Florence scares easily, and she's really shaken. I have to stay with her."

Ivy, lying in cold rubble, heard every word as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

That was how the last tiny spark in her heart went out completely.

Of course.

It was always the same.

She couldn't even feel disappointment anymore. The only sensation that was left behind was numb, bitter pain.

She knew this was coming, right?

With the last of her strength, she moved her head in the smallest nod, like she understood, like she agreed.

Seeing how "sensible" she was, Caesar seemed to relax. He stopped hesitating, wrapped his arms around the sobbing Florence, and followed the stretcher toward the exit, never looking back once.

Ivy lay in darkness and silence, listening to footsteps fade and the ambulance siren rise into the distance.

She slowly lost consciousness.