Chapter 1

On the café's fifth anniversary, my ex, Edward Sterling—the crown prince of the New York elite—showed up with a bulldozer to tear the place down.

Charlotte Rivers snuggled in his arms, shaking her wrist just to show off the watch I had spent an entire year saving up for, the gift I had planned to give him today.

He tossed a check at me. "Here's your compensation. We're even now."

I laughed. In my head, the system's voice was louder than the bulldozer itself. "Final betrayal confirmed. Mission failed. The only way to return to reality is death."

I had once been the beloved of this world's four golden boys—Edward's safe haven and the salvation of the other three.

For five years, I walked with them through their darkest moments and became the light in their lives.

And in the end, even dying had to look this pathetic.

Strangely, I felt relieved.

Anyway, it was better to go home on my own terms than let them keep treating me like a joke.

As the wall collapsed with a deafening crash, I turned on the gas valve.

My mind started to blur just as someone shattered the glass and rushed inside, screaming my name.

That voice sounded just like the boy who once took shelter from the rain in my shop and promised to protect me forever.

*****

My lungs felt stuffed with a wad of damp cotton. I choked on a cough before I finally came to. The sickly smell of gas was gone, replaced by the sharp sting of disinfectant.

So I hadn't died after all. My plan to go home had crashed and burned. A wave of despair washed over me.

Back then, when something calling itself the White Halo Protocol approached me, it handed me what looked like an easy mission, which was to enter this world and become the untouchable crush of any one of four golden boys.

If I pulled it off, my father's astronomical debt in the real world would be wiped clean.

So I spent five long years inching my way into their lives. I became the one place Edward let down his guard, and I became light—and a lifeline—for the other three. I honestly thought I was close to the finish line.

But now that the mission had failed, I was stuck here with nothing to my name.

I glanced around. The hospital room was big and strangely empty. In the corner, someone was slouched on a sofa, hoodie pulled up, eyes glued to his game. The familiar kill-sound effects told me who it was—Ryan Chase, the e-sports prodigy.

Ryan noticed I was awake, but he still finished off the last team fight. Only when the victory screen flashed did he tuck away his phone and walk over. "Hi."

Hands shoved in his pockets, he glanced down at me, his tone giving nothing away. "Edward sent me."

He paused. As if checking off a duty, he added, "Charlotte was worried about you. She's always got a soft spot."

I didn't say a word, just stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot, and that sent me back to years ago—back when he'd been my very first target.

That day, after losing the most important match of his career, he'd hidden in the alley behind my café, punching the wall until his knuckles bled.

I was the one who came out with a first-aid kit. I was the one who became the "respawn point" he crawled to when he hit rock bottom.

I once thought he'd remember that light forever. But now, his affection for me had probably long since dropped to zero.

He looked a little uneasy under my stare. His gaze flickered for a second before sharpening again. "Serena, what were you trying to pull? First you set a fire, and now this. You think it's funny?"

I looked at the hand he kept shoved in his pocket. That same hand had once been so swollen from overtraining that he couldn't even hold a spoon steady.

It was back in the alley behind my café—the one that had just been torn down—when he hid there like a wounded stray, refusing to let anyone see him break.

I didn't ask any questions. I just warmed some baked coffee grounds and wrapped them around his wrist, then hummed that piece of background music from his game, the one no one else had ever heard.

He had stared at me for the longest time, something bright and raw flashing in his eyes. He told me I was his "respawn point."

Later, Charlotte gifted him a diamond-studded therapeutic wristband. After that, I never saw him wear my rough, handmade one again. I figured he'd tossed it ages ago.

"It wasn't funny," I finally rasped. "You can go now."

My calm only seemed to irritate him more. He took out a game token and let it clatter onto my bedside table.

"You want to die?" He smirked at me, mocking. "Fine. But at least beat me fair and square before you go." He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Just as he pulled it open, I called out, "Ryan."

He stopped but didn't look back.

"Charlotte said you think I was only good to you out of pity." I stared at the bulge in his hoodie pocket as I went on calmly. "She said that wrist wrap was just some trick I used to calm stray cats and dogs. Nothing special. Is that right?"