For a $5 million research stipend, I agreed to let the System install an empathic link inside my body.

"Subject. Are you sure you want to proceed? Once installed, the procedure cannot be reversed. This is a prototype. Side effects are not fully characterized."

I looked at the sidewalk-stall clothes my girlfriend Cara Lake had bought herself, and the drugstore-grade makeup on her vanity. I nodded.

That night, while she was out at her bar job.

A current came up out of nowhere inside me. My whole body lit up with a sickening pleasure that did not belong to me.

Seven times.

A few days later I waited near the club where she worked. I overheard her with her friends.

"Cara. You're something else. Pouring La Prairie into a plastic bag and using it like that? Faking poor like a champion. Doesn't Adam ever notice?"

"Notice? He's stupid. He'll believe anything I say. His father got hit by a car, lay in bed without the money for treatment, died alone. I told Adam I couldn't help. He stayed up all night comforting me. I almost died laughing."

The laughter went into me like a knife. I got out of there. The tears came on the walk home.

I picked up the phone.

"Professor. I'll go to the classified institute. I'll go now."

"That's good news, Adam. About time you came around. But your girlfriend, is she really going to wait that long? It's not a year or two."

The phrase 'your girlfriend' went through my chest like a needle. I made my voice light.

"It's all right, Professor. We broke up."

"Oh. Then we're set. I'm putting your name in tonight. We deploy in five days. Another faculty member will reach out about the paperwork."

I hung up.

I scooped a handful of tap water onto my face. I could not tell what was water and what was not.

The private booth I had been in was still noisy. I let out a small, self-mocking laugh and stepped into the elevator.

I pressed the wrong button and ended up in the underground parking garage.

I turned to head back, but suddenly, a wave of warmth surged through my body. I stiffened. That hard-to-describe sensation came over me again.

A car alarm went off not far away. I turned instinctively.

Cara was there.

A man had one hand around her neck, pushing her into the car. Before long, the car started rocking with their movement.

The heat inside me grew stronger. I stood in the corner, motionless, tears slowly running down my face.

From a distance, the woman’s voice grew faster, more urgent. The man let out a low, muffled sound.

As it peaked, I felt a surge of sensation I could not put into words.

I bit down hard enough to draw blood. I lowered my gaze to the ground.

Before this, I had always felt sorry for Cara coming home from night shifts, pale, with dark circles under her eyes. I did not want her to work so hard. I also wanted to improve our life.

So I agreed to let the system implant an immature 'empathic ability' into me.

In return, I would receive five million.

I had planned to use that money to buy a home, a car, and invest for Cara so she could start over.

I had not expected reality to hit this fast.

Seven times in one night. No wonder she came home exhausted.

I was about to leave when the two of them finished dressing.

The man suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and spoke softly.

"Ms. Lake, aren't you tired of playing poor? Or do you really plan to marry him?"

Cara raised a brow, hooked a finger under his chin, and pushed his face aside. Her voice turned cold.

"Is that any of your business?"

The man sounded unwilling to let it go.

"It’s not. But he’s coming back. Are you really going to let him see you like this?"

Cara froze at those words, her legs stiff.

Seeing her reaction, I felt something unexpected–curiosity.

That 'he'…

Who was he?

I did not go straight home. I walked the streets for a long time.

Around noon, I checked my watch. Then I went home.

The smell of cooking hit me as soon as I opened the door. Cara was in an apron in the kitchen.

"Wash up. Lunch is ready." She smiled at me.

Something twisted in my chest. If last night had been a nightmare… if I could rewind to yesterday.

However, last night had not been the nightmare. The nightmare was right now.

"Adam? You okay? Tired?"

She set down the spatula, came over, and leaned into me.

She smelled like soap. She had come home and showered.

I pushed her away. "Just tired."

She kissed the underside of my chin. "Eat. You'll feel better."

When I came back from washing my hands, the utility bills were on the table.

Cara picked them up and slipped them into her pocket. "Don't worry about these. Tips were good last night. We moved a lot of beer, and the boss tipped well. You're going to be a serious researcher. You don't have to worry about small things like this."

I lowered my gaze. A faint, bitter smile flickered across my face.

Last night, in her private room, there really had been dozens of bottles opened, every one imported.

If I had not heard them last night, I would still have been moved by what she said.

"You're not going in this morning?"

She did not notice anything. She kept glancing at her phone.

"You left so early. I missed you all night. I had to see you."

Her phone buzzed. Her face lit up.

"I have to go. The boss is rushing me."

She kissed my forehead and left.

The food on the table was still steaming, but I had no appetite.

I changed and went to campus to handle the paperwork.

The apartment we rented was far from the city. The roads were narrow, and traffic was not convenient.

Not long after I stepped out, it started pouring. Before I could even take out my raincoat, a car came from behind and knocked me hard to the ground.

My skin scraped against the rough road. Blood seeped out, washed thin by the rain.

I sucked in a breath from the pain. Before I could react, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the ground came closer.

"Don't you watch where you're going? Trying to scam money? Looking to die?"

I struggled to look up. The moment I saw the man in front of me, my pupils shrank.

It was the man who had been with Cara this morning.

He looked down at me, a mocking smile on his face.

I clenched my fist. He had done it on purpose.

Before I could speak, a voice came from the car behind him.

"Enough, Vincent. We're running out of time. Give him the money and let's go."

He clicked his tongue, pulled out a wad of cash, and flung it at my face. The bills were instantly soaked by the rain, falling into the mud.

"Heh. That’s all you’re worth."

He turned and left without another glance.

I gritted my teeth, took out my phone, snapped a photo of the license plate, and called the police.

There were no cameras nearby. I would have to wait for their investigation.

The wound on my leg kept bleeding. I called my professor to delay the paperwork, then went with the ambulance to the hospital.

In the ambulance, the nurse frowned as she looked at my leg.

"You’ll need to be admitted for this. Call a family member to stay with you."

I gripped my phone tightly. After hesitating, I still called Cara.

The call rang twice, then was abruptly cut.

Once. Twice. The third time…

Her phone was off.

I put my phone back into my pocket and forced a faint smile.

"It's fine. I can manage on my own."

A nurse pushed a wheelchair over for me. I checked myself in, paid, picked up the meds, and rode the elevator up alone.

The cleaning of the wound was painful. I don't respond well to anesthesia. Every stitch felt like it was going straight into raw nerves. I clenched my fists tightly and didn’t make a sound.

The door slammed open.

"Where is the doctor? Get over here and take a look at him!"

Cara had both hands wrapped tightly around the man's arm, panic all over her face.

It was shift change. There was only one doctor on this floor–the one stitching me up.

Cara ignored everything and shouted outside.

"I don't care! Get someone here right now! See him first!"

She swept everything off the nurses’ station with one motion and helped the man sit down carefully.

She held his injured foot like something precious.

"Cara, don't do this. You'll scare people."

"Roman, if you don't want me to go crazy like this, then you should take better care of yourself. Don't get hurt."

The man smiled sweetly.

My heart felt like it was being torn open, bleeding nonstop.

No wonder she did not pick up my calls.

A nurse rushed in. "Doctor, you should check on the patient outside first."

She leaned in and whispered something to him.

The doctor's face darkened. "These rich kids… just because they have money, they think other people's lives don't matter."

The nurse quickly grabbed his arm.

My face must’ve looked terrible. I forced a faint smile. "I'm fine. Please go ahead."

I lifted my eyes slightly and looked at Cara’s worried expression.

So this was the difference between love… and not being loved.

I was nothing more than a game to her.

At that moment, I could completely understand her panic–the fear, the anxiety, the way she treated that man like something irreplaceable.

I understood it all. And yet, it was not for me.

Before the doctor came back, the pain made me lose consciousness.

When I woke up, Cara was standing beside my bed.

Her expression was complicated. When she saw I was awake, she quickly walked over.

I thought she came to see me. I lowered my gaze and didn’t look at her.

"I'm fine. You can go."

"You called the police?"

Our voices overlapped. I looked up at her in shock.

Cara frowned, clearly unhappy.

"It wasn’t even that serious. Why call the police? I already settled it privately for you."

Pain shot through my leg again. The doctor had said earlier, "Good thing you came in time. A lot of people ignore it, and it ends up infected. Or worse, they lose the leg."

My body trembled.

Memories of that moment flooded back, the humiliation.

"Who gave you the right to settle it for me?"

She was stunned by my reaction. But the next second, she looked at me with clear sarcasm.

"Didn't you already take their money? Now you want to go back on it?"

My lashes trembled. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, there was a knock on the door.

Without waiting, Roman walked in.

The room fell silent.

He looked at me calmly. "Mr. Hale, may I come in?"

"Who told you to get out of bed!"

Cara snapped, walking over to him and grabbing his arm.

Roman smiled faintly.

"I'm fine. No need to make a fuss. Besides, Vincent was driving my car when he hit Mr. Hale. No matter what, I should apologize."

"You don't need to apologize to him. What you need to do now is rest."

Cara did not even spare me a glance. She supported Roman and walked out.

Before leaving, Roman looked back at me with a calm, almost indifferent expression.

He did not need to say anything.

He did not need to do anything.

Just standing there, he had already won.

No one would ask why a luxury car showed up outside a rundown neighborhood.

And no one would ask… how he even knew I existed.