The sun leaned lazily over the city, its orange rays brushing across the skyline like a final goodbye. Jackim sat in the corner of his minimalist penthouse, sipping a glass of orange juice and reviewing BragTech's latest investment reports. It had been a quiet morning for once. No attacks, no headlines, no fake smiles. Just peace — the kind he hadn't tasted in months.
Then, as if fate had been waiting for the calm, his phone vibrated. The name flashing on the screen made him blink twice.
Chloe Whitman.
The campus goddess herself. The girl every guy wanted, every girl envied, and every gossip blog obsessed over. She was the definition of "out of your league" for most — but not for Jackim anymore. Still, it was strange. They barely talked except during a few university events.
He picked up, casual. "Chloe. I was just thinking about how much money I've saved by avoiding people like you."
Her laugh came through the speaker, light and confident. "And I was thinking how much more fun your life would be if you actually answered your texts before ignoring people."
Jackim leaned back, smirking. "So, the goddess speaks. What brings you to disturb the peace of a humble billionaire?"
"I need your help," she said quickly, her tone softening. "And before you roll your eyes— it's serious."
That made him pause. "Go on."
"There's this gala tonight — fashion industry, media, all those rich folks you pretend not to like. My ex, the spoiled son of a minister, is attending. He's been stalking me for weeks, spreading rumors that I'm begging to get back with him."
Jackim raised an eyebrow. "And where do I fit into this soap opera?"
"I need a fake boyfriend. Just for tonight. Appear with me, hold my hand, smile for the cameras, make it look real. Please."
Jackim almost laughed. "You called the wrong person, Chloe. I'm allergic to drama."
"Please, Jackim. You owe me. Remember when I covered for you during that charity event when the Wheel tried to humiliate you? You said— and I quote— 'I'll return the favor someday.'"
He exhaled. Damn. She had him.
"Fine," he muttered. "But if your ex throws a tantrum, I'm charging you extra for emotional damage."
That evening, BragTech's black Maybach pulled up at the Hilton Grand Plaza. Cameras flashed instantly, blinding lights bouncing off the car's mirror-like surface.
When Jackim stepped out in his black suit, murmurs rippled through the crowd. He looked too calm, too sharp, too much like someone the world hadn't met before.
Then the door opened again — and Chloe emerged.
Her golden dress shimmered like liquid light, and every step she took seemed choreographed by destiny. Paparazzi went wild. But the moment she slipped her arm into Jackim's, the chaos reached a new height.
"Is that… Chloe and Jackim?"
"Since when?"
"They look perfect together!"
Jackim whispered near her ear, "You sure you want to keep holding me like this? You're not getting paid for overtime."
Chloe smiled through clenched teeth. "Shut up and play along. He's watching."
He glanced across the room. Sure enough, a tall guy with slick hair and too much arrogance was glaring from the bar. Minister's son. Jackim could spot that brand of entitlement from a mile away.
As they walked in, Chloe leaned closer, pretending to fix his tie. "Thank you for this, seriously. I just… I couldn't deal with him again."
Jackim studied her eyes. For once, the confident Chloe looked tired, even fragile. He softened slightly. "Relax. You've got the best fake boyfriend in the country. No ex stands a chance."
They moved through the crowd — laughing, teasing, whispering like a real couple. Reporters swarmed around them, and Jackim's smirk never faltered.
Then, like a predictable storm, the ex showed up.
"Well, well, Chloe," he sneered, blocking their path. "Trading down, are we?"
Jackim chuckled, stepping between them. "Funny. I was about to say she traded up. At least I know how to tie my own shoelaces."
The man's jaw tightened. "Do you know who I am?"
Jackim looked unimpressed. "A footnote in her past."
People around them chuckled. Cameras captured every word. The ex, embarrassed, tried to salvage his pride. "This isn't over."
"It already is," Jackim said, guiding Chloe away.
They ended up on the hotel balcony later, away from the noise. City lights stretched below like a sea of stars, and the cool breeze carried the faint sound of jazz from the hall.
Chloe leaned on the railing, smiling faintly. "You were amazing in there. I didn't think you'd play the role so well."
Jackim sipped his champagne. "I'm a man of many talents — pretending to be someone's perfect boyfriend is apparently one of them."
"Maybe you're too good at it," she teased, turning to face him. "People were saying we looked… real."
He raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think?"
She hesitated, then laughed softly. "I think if I didn't know you, I might believe it too."
For a moment, the air between them shifted. The laughter faded, replaced by a quiet warmth that neither expected.
Jackim looked at her — really looked. The confident smile, the grace, the sparkle in her eyes that hid exhaustion. He saw not the goddess everyone adored, but the woman underneath — someone just as lonely, just as misunderstood.
Then his phone buzzed. He sighed and glanced at it.
Ariana: We need to talk. Now.
Of course. Life never let him rest.
Chloe noticed his change in expression. "Girlfriend?"
He didn't answer. Just pocketed the phone and smiled faintly. "Something like that."
She nodded slowly. "Lucky her."
"Or cursed," he muttered, half-joking.
They both laughed again, but this time it felt bittersweet.
Later, after escorting Chloe home, Jackim climbed back into his car. As the driver pulled away, he glanced out at the fading city lights.
He didn't realize how visible they had been — or that a familiar face had been watching the whole evening from the shadows.
Ariana.
Her heart clenched as she saw Chloe resting her head on Jackim's shoulder earlier. The sight burned. She had defended him, loved him, stood by him — and now, it felt like déjà vu.
When he finally checked his phone hours later, there were five missed calls and a single message that read:
> "If this is your way of moving on, I understand. But don't lie to me again, Jackim."
He stared at it for a long moment, expression unreadable.
The System chimed softly:
[Mission Completed: Shield Mission – Protect the Goddess's Reputation for 7 Days.]
Reward Unlocked: Emotional Bond + Hidden Skill – "Charm Field Lv.1."
Jackim sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Charm Field? Great. As if I needed more reasons for trouble."
He smiled faintly, though. Somewhere deep down, he knew — life was only getting messier.
---
That night, Chloe scrolled through the news. Every entertainment page screamed their names.
"Campus Goddess and Billionaire: The Perfect Match?"
"Chloe's New Mystery Man — Who Is Jackim?"
She stared at their photo — him looking effortlessly confident, her smiling beside him. For some reason, her heart skipped.
She whispered to herself, "Fake or not… that felt real."
Meanwhile, at BragTech Tower, Jackim stood on the balcony of his office, the wind brushing against his face.
He thought about the gala, the laughter, the softness in Chloe's eyes… and Ariana's hurt message.
For a man who once thought emotions were a weakness, he suddenly felt caught between hearts he never meant to touch.
The night stretched long and heavy. Somewhere deep within, the System pulsed again — a quiet, almost human voice:
"Warning: Emotional resonance detected. Heart index unstable. Proceed with caution."
Jackim chuckled bitterly. "You're warning me now, huh? Too late."
He stared at the city lights, eyes half-tired, half-determined. "If love's a battlefield… guess I just walked into another war."