The music shifted. The violins transitioned from a playful waltz into something more formal, more grand. It was the "Coronation Overture"—the song Julian had specifically chosen to accompany our engagement announcement. He wanted everyone to feel as if they were witnessing the birth of a new dynasty.
"Sophia?" Julian's voice was right at my ear, a warm breath that used to make me feel safe. Now, it just made me feel oily. "The spotlight is about to move to us. Give me your hand."
I looked down at his palm. It was wide, calloused from his early years of labor, a hand that supposedly built empires. But I didn't see a builder. I saw the hand that had held a fountain pen while I lay paralyzed in a hospital bed, guiding my cousin's fingers to sign away my life.
I didn't move. My internal monologue was a frantic, screaming mess of static, but on the surface, I forced a mask of icy calm. Twelve years, Julian. I gave you twelve years of my devotion, and you rewarded me with an autopsy. This time, the only thing I'm giving you is your own ruin.
[Ding! Host's Heart Rate: 120 bpm. Adrenaline surging.]
[Target Julian Cross's Luck is leaking. Do you wish to activate 'Plunder: Public Humiliation'?]
Yes, I thought, my knuckles white against the stem of my glass. Destroy him.
"Julian," I said, my voice cutting through his practiced charm. It wasn't loud, but it had a jagged edge that made him blink.
"What is it, darling? You're acting strange. Is it the nerves?" He tried to step closer, his hand reaching for my waist in a possessive arc.
I stepped back. Not a small, shy step, but a deliberate, wide retreat that created a visible gap between us. Several guests nearby—influential board members of the Stuart Conglomerate—paused their conversations, their eyes darting toward us.
"Don't touch me," I said, the words falling like stones into a glass pond.
Julian's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed. "Sophia, stop playing. The cameras are on. My mother is watching."
"Your mother? You mean the woman whose gambling debts I paid off last month using my inheritance?" I laughed, a sharp, crystalline sound that drew even more attention. "Or perhaps you're worried about the investors? The ones you promised would see a 'united Stuart-Cross front' tonight?"
Across the room, I saw Clara. She was pale, her fingers clutching her lace skirt. Above her head, her luck value was flickering: [40,000... 39,500... 39,000].
The system was working. Every doubt I planted, every crack in the 'Perfect Couple' image, was literally bleeding the luck out of them.
[Ding! Plunder successful! +100 Luck Points stolen from Julian Cross.]
[Host's Life Extension: +10 Days.]
Ten days. A mere drop in the bucket, but to a woman who had just come from a deathbed, it felt like an eternity.
Julian's patience snapped. He reached out, his grip on my wrist tightening until it hurt. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you will get on that stage and you will smile. We have a contract, Sophia."
"A contract?" I whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. "You mean the one where I give you my heart and you give me a grave? Sorry, Julian. I've decided to change the terms."
I didn't wait for him to respond. I raised my hand—the one holding the vintage Moët—and with a slow, deliberate motion, I turned the glass upside down.
The pale, bubbling liquid poured directly onto his hand, soaking into the cuff of his bespoke suit and dripping onto his polished shoes.
The ballroom went silent. Even the orchestra faltered, the violins screeching into an awkward silence.
"I'm afraid I'm a bit clumsy tonight," I said, my voice projecting clearly to the surrounding crowd. "Perhaps it's because I've finally realized that some stains—like the ones on your character, Julian—can't be washed away with money."
"Sophia Stuart!" Julian's face was a mask of thunderous rage. He looked humiliated, a 'King' covered in cheap bubbles.
[Ding! Target's Luck fluctuates violently! +300 Luck Points plundered!]
[Warning: Male Lead's 'Protagonist Aura' is retaliating. Host may face immediate social backlash.]
I felt a chill. The 'World's Narrative' didn't want me to win. I could feel the judgmental stares of the elders, the whispers of "Is she insane?" and "Poor Julian." The air felt heavy, as if the very atmosphere were trying to crush me into submission.
But then, from the darkest corner of the ballroom, near the velvet curtains of the balcony, a slow, rhythmic clapping sounded.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Everyone turned.
A man stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, dressed in a suit of midnight violet that looked black until the light hit it. He wasn't wearing a masquerade mask like the rest of us; his face was exposed, sharp-featured and terrifyingly handsome.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
[WARNING! WARNING!]
[Unknown Entity Detected. Luck Value: ??????? (Immeasurable).]
[Warning: Soul is being scanned by 'The Void'. Host, do not make eye contact!]
It was the Archduke Klaus. The 'Final Villain' who was supposed to be in exile in the Northern Territories. The man who, in my previous life, had eventually burned the entire city to the ground after Julian's 'Heroic' rise.
He walked toward us, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. He didn't look at Julian. He didn't look at the mess on the floor. His eyes—deep, abyssal violet—were locked onto mine.
"An impressive performance," Klaus said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in my chest. "I've always found the Stuart family to be... dreadfully boring. But you, little bird? You have a very interesting spark."
He stopped just inches from me. The pressure was immense. My system was screaming, red alerts flashing across my vision.
Julian, trying to regain his footing, stepped forward. "Duke Klaus. This is a private family matter. I suggest you—"
Klaus didn't even turn his head. He flicked a finger, and a gust of cold wind seemed to knock the breath out of Julian, forcing him back.
Klaus leaned down, his lips inches from my ear. "You're stealing things that don't belong to you," he whispered, so low the others couldn't hear. "But I like a thief. Tell me, Sophia Stuart... if I give you the 24 hours you're so desperately seeking, what will you give me in return?"
My heart stopped. He knows. He knows about the 24-hour limit.
[System Error: External Influence detected. Mission 'The Broken Engagement' status: Pending.]
I looked into Klaus's eyes, and for the first time since my rebirth, I felt a genuine, bone-chilling fear. I had escaped the butcher Julian, only to walk straight into the den of the devil.