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In the tenth year of trying to win Harry Wright's love, the system declared my mission a failure. The punishment was to erase my emotions and let me die naturally in this world. In the final three months, I became unusually obedient. When Harry withdrew funding from the project I had poured my heart into just to please his childhood sweetheart, Julia, I simply smiled and said, "It's okay. As long as she likes it." On our wedding anniversary, he left me behind to celebrate Julia's birthday instead. I replied gently, "Be careful on the road. No need to rush back." Harry thought I had finally learned my place, so he pushed even further and brought Julia home to stay the night. Pointing to the master bedroom, he said, "Julia's afraid of the dark. You can sleep in the guest room tonight." I nodded, moving out of the bedroom without a single complaint. Before I left, I placed the signed divorce papers on the bedside table. Watching my distant back, Harry felt an inexplicable unease. "Rose, stop putting on an act. I want the porridge you make tomorrow morning." The next morning, the porridge never came. What arrived instead was a death notice from the hospital, along with a phone handed to him by the doctor. In the phone's notes, there was only one sentence. [Harry, I don't love you anymore. You're free now.]