Chapter 2

I shot my eyes open, looking at Alex, completely baffled.

His favorability just shot up by twenty? Was the system broken or what? I just splashed wine on him in front of everyone—shouldn't he be going full villain mode right now?

Alex stood there, his expensive white shirt soaked in red, wine running down the fabric—he looked like a mess.

But instead of blowing up as I expected, he didn't even look pissed—he didn't even glance my way.

His brows were knit tight, eyes locked onto the wine glass I'd just thrown the wine from, his expression impossible to read.

The crowd around us was in an uproar.

"Oh my god! Isn't that Ms. Grant? Has she lost her mind?"

"How dare she do that to Alex? He's the pride of Westbridge University!"

"Oh no, the Grant family is about to make an enemy of the Carter family."

Sophie, the heroine, rushed over right away. She was dressed in a pure white dress, her face full of worry as she pulled out a tissue, trying to help Alex clean up.

"Alex, are you okay? How could Emily do something like this?" Sophie asked, her voice trembling with concern.

But Alex just shifted slightly, dodging her touch.

Finally, his gaze landed on me, those eyes swirling with emotions I couldn't read.

It wasn't anger, or disgust—more like curiosity, and maybe even a flash of realization?

What was with that look? Did I mess up his brain with that wine?

His stare made my skin crawl—I just wanted to escape this cringe-fest ASAP.

According to the plot, I was supposed to throw out a few more harsh lines, like, "A loser like you could never be good enough for me."

"Host is hesitating. Please deliver the next humiliating line immediately, or the electric shock penalty will be triggered."

The system was nagging me again.

Gritting my teeth, I glared at Alex and forced out the meanest line I could manage. "What are you looking at? Guys like you are only good for being stepped on by me!"

With that, I spun around and bolted.

"Stop," Alex's cold voice called out from behind me.

I froze on the spot—I didn't even dare turn around.

Oh no, oh no, he was about to take revenge! Was he going to make me apologize and toss me out?

I could feel him approaching, step by step.

The room was dead silent—everyone held their breath, waiting to see how this scene would play out.

The subtle scent of cedar mixed with red wine washed over me.

He came to a halt just behind me.

Then, he draped his suit jacket—still warm from his body—over my shoulders.

My whole body stiffened—I was utterly petrified.

"The AC in here is pretty strong. Don't catch a cold," Alex murmured in my ear, his voice low with a subtle huskiness.

The entire room was struck speechless. So was I.

The system crackled, "Data stream... error detected..."

I could feel all those shocked, stunned, and downright incredulous stares hitting me like I was under a spotlight.

Especially Sophie, her sweet little face was totally contorted in disbelief.

What was Alex even doing?

I just splashed wine on him and humiliated him in front of everyone, and he was not even mad? Now he was worried I'd catch a cold?

Did he have some secret masochistic streak?

[Target's obsession score +30. Current favorability: 50.]

Damn, that favorability just skyrocketed! Was this world bugging out or what?

I turned around stiffly, locking eyes with him—those unfathomable eyes.

He looked at me and said in a low voice, just for my ears, "Thank you."

Did I just hear that right?

He caught my stunned look, and the corners of his lips twitched in the faintest smile as he added, "I'm allergic to that champagne."

I followed his gaze and realized that, in my panic, I'd grabbed a glass of red wine. On the table next to him was a row of champagne flutes. In the original plot, I was supposed to splash him with the champagne—the one that would've triggered a serious allergic reaction.

So... by accident, I actually ended up warning him—or stopped him from drinking something that could've seriously messed him up?

Wait, that was not right. He actually looked like he thought... I did it on purpose to save him?

He genuinely seemed to believe I had done it on purpose to save him.

That my "public humiliation via champagne" was actually a bizarre, roundabout way of saying, "Don't drink that, you'll break out in hives."

What kind of insane logic was that?

As I stared into those eyes shimmering with a "I understand you" gleam, a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Was this guy's ability to make up wild scenarios just way too much?