"Smol dick ahh, tell me, is my face looking pretty enough right now?" I think, rolling my eyes internally. I sneak a glance at the mirrored glass of the window. Yep, flawless.
"If I confess my undying love for the villain… will he think of himself as the luckiest man alive and become a regular human? Hah, why am I even asking? No matter what skin my soul wears, I'm always the most charismatic one here. Obviously, I'm stunning. I don't need to be like Cinderella's stepmom asking for approval. And whoever says otherwise can go get their eyes gouged out by the bride of Kill Bill."
The hallway light flickers for a second as I take a step forward, the sound of my boots clicking against the linoleum floor echoing through the empty corridor. My hand brushes against my skirt, smoothing out a wrinkle in the fabric. It's pleated, black, and hits just above the knee—one of those pieces that screams "I don't care," but you know, I totally do.
I stride up to the legendary villain, closing the distance between us. Ugh, why do all these bad boys have the same permanently frozen expression? If this was real life, they'd be canceled for having a resting bitch face. I mean, he's just standing there, all tall and brooding, his school blazer hanging loosely on his shoulders like he doesn't give a damn about dress codes. Does he think he's Kanye? Actually… come to think of it, there are some similarities, but nah, I shouldn't go there. Too controversial. Even for my brain.
The system bee buzzes in my ear, trying to get my attention, but I tune it out. It's been making that weird opening-and-closing-mouth motion for a while, like it's unsure of what to say. Whatever. I'm already inches from Wilde now, so close that our bodies are practically brushing against each other. He's taller than I remembered, the clean scent of his cologne—something with hints of cedar and, weirdly, sea salt—lingers in the air between us. I want him to step back, just a little, so I can slam my hand against the wall and pull off that classic kabedon move. But no, of course this stubborn brick wall of a man refuses to budge.
I want to flip a table.
"What are you doing?" His voice cuts through the tension, low and smooth. I swear it vibrates through my bones. I stop myself from flinching, but internally, I'm screaming. It's a good voice.
"Oooh, eyecandy can speak!?" Oh, SHIT. Did I say that out loud? Smooth, real smooth. I try to play it off, keeping my face neutral. If I just act like I meant to say it, maybe I can salvage this. Why the hell is my face getting hot? No, no, no. My body needs to chill out. I know his voice is deep enough to give me earwax babies, but get it together!
And wait—did he just… smirk? No way. Must be my imagination.
"Wilde," I say, trying to channel that sultry, seductive vibe I've only ever read about, "we're in high school now. I guess I can't keep up this whole middle school act of bullying the person I like anymore." I say it slowly, each word dripping with fake vulnerability. I search his face, trying to catch a flicker of something. Anything. But he's like stone—unreadable.
"You like me?" His voice is flat, but his eyebrow quirks up, amused. Before I can even answer, he continues. "So you're telling me all those years of tripping me in the halls, locking me in the bathrooms, and, oh, when your thugs beat me until I was unconscious—that was your way of showing affection?"
Hold up. "WHAT?! Someone hurt you?" I snap back, cutting through his monologue. "That's why you missed midterms, huh? Are you still hurt? Any long-term effects?" My concern comes out genuine, and it throws him off. Good. Even the original Faye —the immature brat—wasn't that much of a monster. No way did I ever order anyone to beat him half to death. But these questions… these questions help me sell the whole "I care about you" narrative I'm trying to spin. I'm multitasking like a pro.
He frowns, his brows knitting together, and his perfect jawline tenses. Ugh, his face is so symmetrical it's almost annoying. But I can't have him looking like that. That frown needs to go.
I lean in slightly, reaching up and pressing my index finger against his forehead. "Don't frown. It makes you look ugly." The words come out softer than I intended, but they hit harder than expected. His body stiffens, like I've just electrocuted him, and for a moment, he stares at me as if I've grown two heads.
Which, I mean, fair. In a way, I have.
But he's not one to stay rattled for long. His lips curl into a sneer, and his eyes narrow. "Why should I believe you? This could easily be another one of your 'harmless' pranks. And even if you're being genuine, why now? Why confess all this today, of all days? We've been in high school for months, Miss Lozero. Also, what happens to your so-called 'true love,' Caden?"
Alright, now something's definitely off. "System Smol Weewee, is the villain going OOC? This doesn't add up. He's supposed to be playing the victim here. Why's he so… sharp? Did I fry his brain or something?"
The system bee's still sulking, but its pride takes a backseat to the situation. "Actually, host, you might be right for once. Something is a little off. But I can't detect if he's out of character because you still haven't bought the 'Measure OOC' tool from the system shop. It's only 399 lifepoints! And don't worry, you can convert real-world currency into lifepoints. Convenient, huh?"
"How much is it?"
"Oh, just $100 per lifepoint, so you'd only need $39,900 for the tool! Shall I start the transfer?"
I blink, speechless. "System?"
"Yes, host?"
"Were you a loan shark before becoming a system?"
"…Yes, but how—wait, that's classified info! What does that have to do with the system shop?"
"System?"
"Yes, host?"
"Don't talk to me for three business days. Get lost."
I shake off the conversation and focus back on Wilde. Damn it. He's still watching me, that unreadable look back on his face. Did I hesitate for too long? Crap, I've got to think fast.
"True love?" I say, locking eyes with him, the corners of my eyes stinging with the dramatic tears that I'm pulling from somewhere deep within. Park Shin-hye would be proud. "What would you know about true love, Wilde? Do you even know what it's like to hide your feelings just to protect someone? You of all people should understand what happens to the things you care about… they get taken away. By Caden."
The flicker of uncertainty crosses his face, and I know I've hit the mark. "My 'true love' for Caden? Don't disgust me. I thought you'd see it. Even when I was bullying you, I was trying to protect you from him. But I guess I was wrong. Just pretend like this—we—never happened."
Nailed it. I want to clap at my own performance. Time to turn and leave dramatically, like the heroine of a K-drama walking away from heartbreak. My boots click softly as I take a step away, waiting for the inevitable "Wait!"
Except, instead of words, a hand grabs my wrist and yanks me backward into his chest. The force of it knocks the wind out of me. My heart slams against my ribs. "Don't go," he murmurs, his voice low and way too close to my ear. My body betrays me with a shiver. Too close, too close.
I start to pull away, but then, in one swift motion, he spins me around and—oh, oh, OH MY GOD—his lips are on mine.
My first reaction is to push him away. This feels wrong. But wait—no. It wouldn't make sense for someone who's supposed to be head over heels for him to push him away. He's pressing into me, his lips hot and demanding. And why do I… kind of like it? This is not the plan!
Fine. I'll play along. My arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer as I rise onto my tiptoes, my chest pressing against his. His body is firm, muscles hidden under that stupidly perfect uniform. I bite down on my tongue hard enough to draw tears, and then, carefully, I nudge his lips with my tongue. Am I doing this right? I think I'm doing this right.
It seems to work because Wilde's breath hitches. He starts panting, and then—oh no. Oh no. Something hard presses against me from below.
Oh, no. Oh hell no. Is this seriously happening right now? There's no way I'm dealing with this—his "snake" is poking me! AHHH, this beast! My brain is short-circuiting.
Should I keep going? Or is this enough? Wilde's totally the type to like a demure white lotus, right? If I go too far, it might ruin everything. Maybe I should pull back.
I tilt my head slightly, breaking the kiss to catch my breath. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my lips are tingling in the aftermath. Wilde's face is inches from mine, his eyes still closed, as if he's savoring the moment. He looks almost… peaceful. His lashes are stupidly long, and the slight flush on his cheeks is kind of adorable. I hate how pretty he is.
But something feels off. My gaze flickers to the classroom door, and then I see it—a reflection in the window.
Caden. Standing at the entrance, eyes wide, his jaw clenched. His hands are balled into fists. He's watching us. He's been watching us this whole time.
Oh, hell no.
Wilde must've seen him too. There's no way he missed it. This whole thing—this kiss—was all for show. A performance for Caden. My blood boils at the realization. This sneaky, manipulative bastard! He wasn't out of character; he was playing me. Using me to make a point.
I can see why people want to bully him. I want to bully him now! How dare he use me like that? Only I am allowed to play with people's feelings like this!
I clench my fists, the urge to slap him rising. But I take a deep breath, calming myself. This isn't over yet.
"Wilde…" I start, my voice dripping with sweetness, masking the fury building inside me. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
His eyes snap open, confusion flickering in their depths. He's still too close, his breath warm against my skin. I gently push against his chest, just enough to create a little distance between us, but not enough to make it look like I'm rejecting him.
"Is something wrong?" His voice is low, and the corner of his mouth twitches—that smirk. Ugh, he knows exactly what he's doing.
"Oh, nothing at all," I say, flashing him a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "You're just… full of surprises."
My mind is already racing with how I'll deal with this later, but for now, I'll play his game. If he wants to drag me into his little war with Caden, then fine. Two can play at that.
I glance over Wilde's shoulder, meeting Caden's gaze for a split second. His expression darkens, but before he can make a move, I turn my attention back to Wilde, my fingers lightly brushing against his collar as I lean in closer.
"Just remember," I whisper, my lips barely grazing his ear, "I always get the last word."
For now, I'll let him think he's won. But Wilde has no idea what he's just started.