A man walks up to the middle of the arena. He seems quite confident as a small smirk gives him an arrogant air. With a flick of his wrist, a huge engine appears from the white veil converting the mysterious object of the tournament.
The host does his job well to hype up the crowd.
"And now! This contestant is a talented and blooming student at the University of Georgia!"
The University of Georgia is the only university in the capital of Keltc[1], and though some especially smart commoners are allowed in, they typically never manage to graduate for a number of reasons. 
"His work has once managed to win the prize for most innovative experiments and his work is often praised by the professors teaching this young lad."
If this kid is publicly appraised for his work then his father must have some connections as a businessman.
"Only 20 this year and already dubbed the small genius of Georgia! He has now presented himself in this new tournament, how lucky we are!"
Marguerite rolls her eyes, which doesn't escape Mathys who laughs at the unexpected behaviour.
He brings out a flask, and inside the flask is a few litters of milk. Marguerite tilts her head slightly at the odd sight and asks herself what could possibly be made with milk. Her interest is greatly spiked.
He takes another flask which contains a clear liquid. The host asks him what is contained inside and he answers that it's a secret. Marguerite has an inkling that it could either be water or vinegar, but she doesn't see the use for water in this case.
He heats up the milk and does a series of tasks, and with each task, Marguerite's eyes widen even more. She becomes excited as the crowd becomes more and more bored.
In the end, he pulls out a weird blob with an odd colour from the solution of milk and vinegar. Marguerite can hardly believe it, this guy just made casein plastic!
The others look at his blob with odd looks at first, but what he does next finally brings out a good reaction from the crowd.
He starts to mould the plastic into very fine sculptures: animals, flowers, birds, you name it.
As the crowd admires his artistic skills, Marguerite is more amazed at his ability to figure out the chemical formula to make casein plastic without a guide. She feels her heartbeat become stronger and stronger as his fingers glide across the milky figures.
This man, he is the one!
The tournament continues for a while after that, and Marguerite fell in love with 3 other people: a woman making a water filter, a man boiling water without heat by reducing the pressure, and a child making a homemade bomb. The homemade bomb made her especially worried and surprised, but she felt that these concerned were not worth overlooking such talent.
――――――――――――――
Marguerite has decided to kidnap the 4 men she found in the middle of the worthless other contestants that presented themselves. She found it interesting how none of them was the winner of the prize, the first guy, who's name is Martin, went on a rampage about how none of them understands the art of his science and the beauty of his worldview. Marguerite found him quite eccentric but didn't let it bother her, a genius is a genius in the end.
That same Martin is actually currently yelling at everyone present in the room with him, complaining about the indecency of today's youth. Marguerite walks in laughing herself to death out how a guy younger than her[2] talks like a 50-year-old grandpa yelling at his mischievous grandkids.
――――――――――――――――――――――――
Dummy chapter surprise party!!!!!'
wait for the rest in a few hours


In the age of the internet, article writers who can generate good content in a short time period are in increasingly high demand. However, writing articles or blogging under tight deadlines should not come at the expense of good writing. Here is a step-by-step guide full of great tips to help you write a good article in record time:
Keep a list of ideas handy. You never know when writer's block will hit. That's why it's important to keep a list of ideas for potential news articles or personal stories that could be expanded into essays. Any time you have an idea, jot it down in a notebook or in a Word document on your computer. That way, when it's time to start writing, you'll already have a place to start.
Eliminate distractions. A lot of people claim to work better while multitasking. Rarely is this actually the case, especially if the goal is to write an entire article in a short amount of time. The best articles require your complete and undivided attention. Before you begin writing your first sentence, turn off the TV and mute social media so you can focus solely on article writing.
Research efficiently. Research is important for any piece of writing, but it's also easy to fall into the trap of spending too much time researching and not enough time writing your first draft. If you're looking for facts or statistics to support your argument, try to be as specific as possible in your search terms. If you aren't finding the support you're looking for, the takeaway may be that you need to adjust your thesis or subject matter.
Keep it simple. A reader's attention span is generally short, so one of the best things that you can do as a writer is to keep your article direct and concise. Having a maximum word count goal will help you not only help you complete your write-ups faster, but it will also result in a streamlined article that focuses on major points while eliminating fluff.
Try writing in bullet points. Writing in bullet points can help you organize your thoughts and complete the article faster. Also, bullet point articles often drive higher traffic, since search engine algorithms tend to prioritize articles with bullet points and subheadings. Writing in bullet points is not only a time-saver, it can also increase the likelihood your article reaching your target audience.
Edit after writing. One of the most common mistakes that writers make is trying to edit while they write. Resist this urge. Trying to edit while in the process of writing can slow you down, increasing the likelihood that you won't even make it past the intro. Good writers know that writing and editing are two distinct and separate processes. Once you've gotten to the end, then you can go back and focus on writing the perfect first line, sharpening your first paragraph, or tying things together with a clever kicker.
Set a timer. A great way to become a quicker and more efficient writer is to practice writing to a timer. Set a timer for 30 minutes and see how much you can get done. You'll be surprised how much you can produce during a half hour of focused, uninterrupted writing.
Become a better writer with the MasterClass Annual Membership. Gain access to exclusive video lessons taught by literary masters, including Neil Gaiman, Malcolm Gladwell, David Baldacci, Joyce Carol Oates, Dan Brown, Margaret Atwood, and more.
The writing style of a typical news story relies on hard facts to deliver information quickly and efficiently to readers, telling them exactly what they need to know. However, sometimes there is a bigger story to be told, and certain subject matter requires more details to paint a thorough picture and give a complete story.
 
A feature article is a news story that goes beyond the facts to weave in a narrative and tell a compelling story. A feature article differs from a hard news story as it offers an in-depth look at a particular subject, current event, or location to audiences. A good feature story will keep the reader's attention until the end, delivering a fleshed-out narrative and creating a lasting impression.
There are various types of feature article writing. Whether your focus is news articles, investigative features, or human interest stories, all feature story ideas require a deep level of research—like interviews with people close to the story or research into extensive background information on a place. Feature writers go behind the scenes and have a commitment to uncovering the big story beneath the facts. If it's your first time attempting feature writing or you're a freelance writer looking to improve your feature-writing skills, the following tips can help:
Do your research. Feature stories need more than straight facts and sensory details—they need evidence. Quotes, anecdotes, and interviews are all useful when gathering information for your own feature story. Hearing the viewpoints or recollections of witnesses, family members, or anyone else who could fill in any gaps or missing pieces to your story can help it feel more three-dimensional, allowing you to craft a more vivid and interesting story.
Have a compelling headline. Feature stories rely on a writer's ability to maintain a reader's attention throughout an entire piece, but one of the harder parts is getting them interested enough to read the story in the first place. Your headline is the first thing readers are going to see, so it needs to pack a punch or set up a question readers will want your story to answer.
[1] You could then assume that Keltc's capital is named Georgia. but that's just a guess
[2] mentally


Marguerite is oblivious as she folds Arthmael's body into beautiful silhouettes. Following the familiar choreography, she dances relentlessly.

Grand Jete! Penche! followed by a series of graceful pas de chats. All concatenated in front of the enthralled emperor.

When the music reaches the outro in a full stop, Marguerite falls gracefully on the floor in a pose. She stays there and waits for the king to tell her she can leave.

She stays on the ground for a long time but hears nothing from him. Wondering if she did anything wrong, she wants to lift her head to look at the king's face, but quickly remembers the warning he gave her. If she disrespects him any further, who knows what he might do to her.

She suddenly feels her chin being lifted, her eyes meet the hazels of Demian. She forgets to breathe and falls from her pose onto the floor. She doesn't have time to regain her senses before two strong arms lift her off the floor.

She is about to question him on his weird behaviour when her mouth is suddenly covered by his in a kiss.

-------------------------------------------------
Marguerite is very talented. She has a beautiful voice, a great passion for music and various talents in the arts. Unfortunately, her bright future gets compromised when she is forced to leave her world to fulfill the wish of someone else. Marguerite wanting to go home as soon as possible, accepts. However things turn out quite unexpected for her.

The cover belongs to the rightful owner. If you are the owner of the art and want me to take it down, DM me on discord burlesque_dancer#2837

One by one, Primo Lanz saw most of the employees leave the office. He checked the time and it was almost six in the evening. Sam stood up and went to his table.
"I am taking back what I said about the coffee. You can have as much coffee you want." Sam wore his trench coat and fedora hat. Primo then raised his coffee cup. He had a cup of coffee already that he took from downstairs.
Sam asked. "How about dinner?"
Primo Lanz showed his stash of food; A can of sardines , loaf of bread and canned ham. "I have my dinner covered," Primo replied.
Sam signaled his hand. "Whatever. But I will be back by eight o'clock to see the typeset if it's properly locked. I am taking serious note of your so-called changes to the article."
Sam slowly walked out of the room leaving him and Cecilia alone. Cecilia stood up and took her bag. She was about to leave but stopped a few steps away from his table. She looked back and saw Primo looking at her. Cecilia turned around and faced Primo as if she was under the spotlight.
"Look. I want to tell you I have no hand in everything here. I might sound bitchy and act superior but I am clean as far as what is happening." She opened her bag and gave Primo a cut article.
"What is this?" Primo asked.
Cecilia sighed. "I am not just a big fan of Paul Kelis. We also had a great time together and that one night we had- that prompted me to look inside myself. You know, maybe I was in love with him. So I read everything he wrote and I also saw him changes right in front of me." Cecilia pointed at the article. "That article is considered a waste of space by many-even Sam- who complained he did not approve its printing. But Paul had it printed alongside his last article before he killed himself. "
Primo looked at the article. 
"But this is-" Primo looked at the article with Its cryptic message.
"I don't consider it rubbish. Paul is challenging everyone who could have deciphered it."
"But what does it contain?" Primo asked.
"He would not have hidden it if he wanted it known by everyone."
"What do you want me to do with this?" Primo asked.
Cecilia sighed and turned around. "Decipher it. Maybe you can do it. By the way I sent it to all known cryptographer around the country but none have returned so far. And its months already. I reposted it again in my feature article tonight. Who knows? Maybe I might have the answer by next week's letter sender. You know how crazy people are with secret stuff. Goodbye."
Primo placed the article inside his table. He placed his food on top of his table and began to open the can of sardines and ham. After placing a sardine on the loaf of bread he took a bite and began to think about the reason why Paul Kelis wrote a cryptic message in The Palindrome Journal. Maybe he wanted to tell an important message?
Primo went to Paul Kelis' table. It was vacant and no one had been using it. He looked inside the drawer but it was all empty. He looked under the desk but there was nothing unusual. He checked the chair and looked underneath and saw numbers that were arranged in a sequence.
He remembered Susana telling him about the Fibonacci number during their stay in The Tavern. 
"Oh my God! This is a Fibonacci sequence. There's 0 plus 1 equals 1, 1 plus 1 equals 2…"
Primo went back to his table and took the letter out of his drawer. He pulled out a piece of sheet of blank paper then wrote the English alphabet on the top edge and then again wrote it downwards on the side. He then placed the cryptic message in the middle.
"Da_n! If the number under the table is the key then I will be able to unlock these gibberish letters!" Primo exclaimed as he took a bite of his bread. He took a piece of typewriting paper and wrote down the numbers he saw under the chair. 
"Prime numbers! You know it Paul! No one could solve the message if these clues were not present!"
Primo Lanz had his mouth open after writing down the key to unlock the secret. "The first prime number is 3 which is letter C...then 5 which correspond to E…"
Primo took another bite as he looked under the chair and completed the last prime number he saw. Then he stood up and looked around. He touched his chin after completing the series of prime numbers that was written down. That cannot be! He was shaking his head. He took a couple of sighs and sat back in his chair.
"Oh my God! The key is Cecilia's name!" He clenched his fist and acted triumphant. 
Primo looked around. No one is inside except for the open door which Cecilia left open. He took a deep breath before he started translating the cryptic words of Primo Lanz.
Start of Translation --
"This is Paul Kelis- A freelance writer of The Palindrome Journal. I am not writing this to you in particular but to anyone whose eyes have opened finally.
Because, you won't come this far unless you have stumbled on to something that you got so curious about. It can be the town itself of Palindrome; the parable of the twin baby; my death; the talk of an impending apocalypse; the mysterious tavern; the disappearance of other people that have gone missing and who knows what else that could have ignited your imagination and brought you here. I am writing this the night of August 1st, and the year is 1971. You might be reading this ten or twenty years from now.
You see, The Palindrome Journal had been the official repositories of everything that happened in this town and while this town was established hundreds of years ago- there was something odd about this place that a few handful of people probably noticed. Most were written down in great detail in the The Palindrome Journal and perhaps you can read them in some other progressive format as the future would have translated them to something you can read in the comfort of your home. 
But the story may not be true anymore. A few moments ago, I walked inside the press as they worked on the typesetting of the written article. I saw how they assembled every movable letter and I double checked every single word and sentences as it was locked in the printing bed. Every sentence was the same as I intended them to be written. 
I am writing this to you as a testament that something is happening which I could not simply explain. You, who exerted all effort must have the answer. If not, then do the next best thing of finding it out. Why did the words I wrote changed as it got printed? The words were no longer mine. Could someone tell me why? Because no logical answer can be derived from the responses of men and women around here. What forces were at play here that everyone was left scratching their heads? 
I am leaving these letters embedded here with gibberish words. But this is not the same with my article on The Twin Paradox and The Apocalypse. I am writing this encrypted. If you were able to decrypt this -then congratulations! You have come to the right place and the right time. But I have to warn you this is just the beginning or maybe your own end. Meanwhile, I have reached mine. You have to complete my story. Find out the rest of the mysteries of Palindrome. Find the baby. Stop the apocalypse!
End of Translation---
Primo Lanz just returned Paul's chair back when Sam walked back inside the room after his dinner.
"Brrr….Damn cold outside," Sam shivered as he closed the door to the room. Sam looked at Primo. "You looked flushed. Have you eaten your dinner?" Sam asked.
"Yes," Primo replied. He then removed the transcribed sheets of paper on his table and placed them in his drawer. The article Cecilia gave to him fell on the floor.
Sam went towards Primo's table and picked it up. He took a good look at it he recognize it at once. 
Sam looked at Primo then gave him a smile. "So you want to wrap your head around this crafty stuff? Or crypto whatever you called this gibberish words. Paul managed to print this without my knowledge. Poor Paul Kelis. Blessed his soul. Did you find a solution?"
Primo replied, "I am not sure about the solution but this looks to me like a typesetting error."
Sam returned the cut article back on his table. 
"I am gong downstairs to check the typeset. Follow me so you would see how it is done."
Primo nodded. "Okay. No problem."
Primo placed the article together with the transcribed notes inside his bag then followed Sam downstairs to review the printing bed.


Forensic  Jorge Velez is on the heels of a series of  murders but the  events unfolding may have already happened. His team found intertwined events, unusual evidences, strange disappearances, time lapses, and  feeling of 'deja vu'. In order for them to truly find out what is happening they literally  need to run  towards the  shadow's edge and fell 150 meters below.
--------
Did he just walk inside a top secret military program? Where is Dr. Molina? What is his purpose in inviting him?

The electric noise was literally raising all the hair on his arms. There were sudden huge sparks that could literally fry and it randomly  hit the floor and the tall ceiling above. What is this place? There is something massive going on and he needed to understand what this is all about.

"Impressed?" A man behind him asked. It was Dr. Molina. He removed his goggles and grabbed Jorge's arms.

"I could see you are in a confused state. Come inside the briefing room."

Confused is an underestimation. Jorge was literally in a state of shock.

Inside the briefing room, Jorge's hand was trembling as he drank a glass of water together with his medication. He needed something to calm himself down. The voices he heard in his radio, the message from Colonel Riva, and this massive thing in front of him is just too much to process in the blink of an eye. He needed to slow down.

"What's going on?" Jorge's asked as Dr. Molina pore over the result of many of his experiments.

"What you see is what you get Jorge. It's the real deal. A time machine."

Jorge felt his breathing stopped. He heard it loud and clear. A  T-I-M-E machine.

Mo Fei's personality was too straightforward. If someone was targeting the Ding family, then they should understand Mo Fei very well, and it was only right to start with Mo Fei.
Qian Yikun could reasonably suspect that, from Ding Junqi's scandal to the fact that the Ding family was invited to the press conference, it was all part of a conspiracy.
Since Ding Junqi was starring in Gu Juexi's new movie, Ding Junqi would definitely hold a press conference. Due to Mo Fei's friendship with Ye Yuwei, Mo Fei, the daughter of the Ding family, was definitely invited on behalf of the Ding family.
This way, Ding Junqi and Mo Fei would appear at the press conference together.
Mo Fei had a fiery temper. If someone made use of Ding Junqi's incident as a fuse, it was very likely that it would trigger her fiery temper. At that time, beating someone up at the press conference would not come as a surprise.
However, Qian Yikun still did not know who that person was.
Ask Mo Fei?
The woman was so insensitive that her neurons must be as empty and wide as a solar tube. Therefore, she definitely had no idea who was targeting her.
The scene from the meal that day suddenly flashed across Mo Fei's mind, but it was too fast for her to register it.
"Qian Yikun, are you looking down on me?" Mo Fei snorted. She could read between the lines of what Qian Yikun said.
Qian Yikun laughed softly. It was not bad that this solar tube could think of this.
It just so happened that he had a case to solve. Otherwise, he would have accompanied her himself. He was afraid that Ye Yuwei would not be able to suppress Mo Fei. After all, not even Qian Yikun could suppress Mo Fei when her temper raged sometimes.
"Just bear with it. I'll pretend nothing happened even if you make your move when there's nobody around. However, when in public, you must not resort to violence." Qian Yikun continued nagging at her worriedly.
"Qian Yikun, do you honestly think that I like to fight so much?" Mo Fei was offended.
Qian Yikun remained silent on this issue. In Mo Fei's world, there was no problem that could not be solved by violence.
Therefore, it was really surprising to him that she did not have such self-awareness.
Qian Yikun felt that there was a need to explain things to Ye Yuwei one more time. He needed to remind her that if necessary, she must hold on tight to Mo Fei and not let go.
"Boss, I found it. The victim's name is Wu Biao. He's a freelance columnist." The vice-captain came in with the report. When he saw that Qian Yikun was on the phone, he paused.
"I'll be busy for a while," Qian Yikun said as he hung up the phone and let the vice-captain in.
The vice-captain placed the documents that he was holding in his hands on Qian Yikun's desk. "This is what I found recently. Wu Biao, thirty-seven years old and a freelance columnist. He relied on writing about celebrities' private lives to earn his living expenses. As he reserved no boundaries in his writing, he was sued several times. The latest news he wrote was about your eldest brother-in-law."
Qian Yikun reached out and took the document. He looked at the photos and the news he published. The last article was about Ding Junqi entering Le Tian's room after she got drunk.
Qian Yikun put the document down and started browsing. "Go and check his recent financial records."
The vice-captain nodded. "I've put Lil Zhao on it. Your eldest brother-in-law definitely must have had no peace recently."
Qian Yikun tapped his fingers on the table. No peace indeed. Even the entire Ding family was not peaceful.
"Boss, Wu Biao's most recent financial transfers have been emailed to you. However, strangely, he hadn't had any online funds transfer recently." Lil Zhao leaned against the door and said that before leaving.
Qian Yikun opened up his email inbox and checked the data.
The person who exposed Ding Junqi's private life was Lin Xuan. There must be someone behind Lin Xuan, too.
It was Ding Haobei who was currently engaged in economic warfare against Mo Fei. However, Ding Haobei probably had no idea about the relationship between Mo Fei and Gu Juexi. This explained was why he asked his mother to steal the Ding Enterprise's seal after he found out about it today. He also would not use Ding Junqi to deal with Mo Fei.
So, who was that person?
Someone who understood Mo Fei; understood Ding Junqi.


He was the powerful and influencing heir of B City, the merciless head of the commercial world, but the divorce papers made him lose his cool. 
“Sign the divorce papers, daddy,” said the 5-year-old boy. 
This man had the divorce papers thrown in his face by his wife six years ago, and was now being pushed by his own son to sign the papers. 
“That would make you a single-parent child,” said Gu Juexi coldly. 
“Mommy said unicorns don’t exist but men like you do,” the boy leered at his father and said. 
Gu Juexi’s face fell. ‘That damned woman.’
“You haven’t signed the papers,” the boy reminded as the man left. As usual, the door shut in his face. 
Good lord… Dad and mom are not getting a divorce and are giving him a baby brother? How worrying!

Tallulah stood at the podium. She looked out into the audience and cleared her throat. Next to her was a full blow-up of her book, Fighting My Way Back: The Lily Blass Story.
Chloe was serious when she told her to publish. She'd taken her advice and met with Owen Katz. He wanted her to write a book about Lily, and him, too. Lily had agreed as well. Chloe had taken the idea to Stanley, and he never looked back. He loved the idea. She asked Michael to edit the book. She couldn't think of anyone better. He readily agreed. They made a great team.
Stanley offered her a literary contract and advance. She'd agreed to write 4 more books for him. She still managed to freelance from time to time, but her life as a writer had changed. She was becoming known and recognized for her talent.
She was surprised at how many women of color had written to her about their experiences and how they, too, were told they sounded white. Zoe had given her the idea to start writing down their stories and compiling them for her next book.
"You have the title," Zoe said. "You Sound White."
Lily's career had taken off, and she was on an international tour. Between the magazine article, the YouTube video going viral, and the PR genius of Chloe, Lily Blass was becoming a household name.
She'd been surprised when Sylvia's attorney contacted her about her will. Sylvia had left her a fortune. At first, she was afraid to take the money, but Owen had convinced her of all the good she could do. She donated to the Marigold Shelter in the name of her mother, brother, and sister Sylvia. Anna had decided to name the new Shelter the Blass House. Lily also decided to take on the Blass name and released her first record as Lily Blass.
Tallulah had finished reading an excerpt from her book. She smiled as the crowd applauded. As she stepped down from the podium, Marc was smiling at her.
"You sounded great," he said.
"Thanks," she said, smiling back.
"Lunch?" he said.
"Okay," she said.
They held hands as they made their way through the bookstore. Outside, a black Town Car was waiting. The name on the side of the car read, "King and Queen Car Service".
Marc opened the passenger door for her, then ran around to the driver's side and hopped in.
"So, where to?" he asked.
"I feel like soul food, comfort food," she said, smiling.
He leaned over and kissed her. She kissed him back.
"I know just the place," he said, then put the car in drive.
 
 
<gdiv></gdiv>

You Sound White is the story of protagonist Tallulah and a cast of young aspiring African-American women five years post-college. Her writing career has not taken off as she has planned and is working three jobs to make ends meet. She has grown up in a world that judges her by her skin color and how she talks. Her life takes an unexpected turn when she befriends a homeless woman named Lily. Tallulah realizes that there is a story there and as Lily's past materializes, her own life is illuminated and dissected in ways she could never imagine.

I always was a shy person, and I was frequently under the impression that everything that I have done was doomed to have failed. This feeling of inadequacy was deeply rooted in my heart and, as the dandelions one can find on the side of the road, similarly hard to get rid of.

These kinds of feelings would have kept a person hunched back in self-pity for a long time unless rotted out from the depths of one's mind. One had to explore the deepest part of their insecurities to be able to find the cause for this kind of feelings, but even then, after you would have gotten down and dirty and fought a long war to rid yourself from them, the self-doubts and judgements from others would just encourage new spouts to grow and the nightmare would start all over again.

I have tried not once, not twice, but numerous times to escape these crippling feelings, but I was unsuccessful. These weed like feelings had taken control of my life and have dictated the way I saw myself and others around me. It had left me feeling devoid of willpower and corrupted by the dark thoughts that I wasn't able to share with others, no matter how close to my heart one would become.

My life had been always affected by these thoughts and because of their influence, I was struggling to find a way and stay afloat in today's society.

I wasn't always like this, I was once an optimistic person, and people around me always said how my cheerful disposition made them smile, however this all changed once I grew up.

My family was never rich, and when my mother passed away when I was little, I was left in the care of my father who was mostly grieving on his own, trying to drown his problems in alcohol. In the end, he left me to be cared for by my elderly grandmother.

I couldn't complain much, but the absence of my parents, who were supposed to be my pillars of support, and the increasing judgemental society, I started to feel unwanted. And then the thought that I was not good enough for them, started to eat away at me. And that is how the feeling of being inept in everything I tried, followed me through my forming years.

As I passed my teenage years, I learned to lie in order to hide my shortcomings and to put up a font towards everyone. I was always the person who smiled the most, when I was nervous, when I was sad, when I was lost, every emotion I felt would be masked by a bright smile.

I once read that to be happy, all you needed was to smile brightly and believe it. I never could fully believe it, so it never worked for me.

I could no longer cry around people or show them when I was sad, my defense mechanism was so well put together that I would automatically plaster a smile on my face whenever someone even looked my way, no matter what I was really feeling inside.

And so the years have passed, and school was over in a blink of an eye.

I stumbled from job to job in search for something that I could say I was good at, a talent that everyone else seemed to have, except me. I worked for a while at a web design company doing content writing, adjusting keywords and researching them and even article writing. When that didn't work out I stayed for a while at home looking for jobs and working on small freelance projects. I was from a small town so a job in something I actually had experience with, were few and far between. I ended up working for various stores, such as clothing stores, a toys store and even an animal store.

My last experience at the animal store only drove me to never look for another job as a sales clerk again. I loved to be around animals and I was good at understanding their needs, I finally thought I found something that I was going to excel at, but I was proven wrong. My kind-hearted disposition along with my own convictions that I would mess up things made a good target for being taken advantage off.

From working two full weekends without a break to having to work a total of seventeen days in a row. Being accused of giving the wrong change and then made to cover the loss. And even being the only one to clean and mop up the shop after closing. I was being made into a joke by my colleagues and everyone knew it, even me.

Although they were all aware that this was not right, that did not stop them but instead made it seem like I was only making a big deal out of nothing. It was this kind of attitude that made me sick of working there. Before my trial period was even over, I had reached my breaking point. While I felt sorry for the animals I was leaving behind, I submitted my resignation.

Even on the day that I submitted my resignation, I was made to stay through the day although I was not obligated to by the contract, I did not want the animals there to be left unfeed because there were not enough employees around. Besides, I had some good times as well, such as exercising with the dogs, catching parrots and other exotic birds, and heck, even scooping out fish was pleasurable if the customers were patient since it was quite time-consuming.

After this experience, I had already reached the age of 28 and gained a new understanding of my situation. I would have to find a workplace where I felt comfortable, be it on a lower pay or out of the city, but I wanted to be somewhere where I would be appreciated. And so, I started looking once again for a job that included my favorite pastime, namely writing.

With the new idea in place, I knew I had to change to some degree, I would not be able to keep running away from every job just because it was hard, with this next job, I would surely hold my ground and learn to adapt. This effort would be something necessary for me to grow up and would help me become a functioning member of society.

Who would have known, that this new endeavor, would forever change my life...

Kate Ross is a slightly awkward young adult that has problems fitting into the norms of society. Her friends are all married and even with children while she is still struggling to find the right job. One day her luck changes when she is hired to work as a copywriter for a small company.
 
  Meeting new people and making new friends becomes easy when she joins the workforce, but when her care towards her boss becomes more than she could allow herself, her once quiet life becomes filled with struggles to keep her own feelings under control.
 
  Whether she falls prey to her feelings or she manages to fight against them, one thing is for sure, life is never as easy as it seems and it is up to her to face her own weaknesses or to stand up and fight for what she wants.

Yu Yuan stared at Ling Ran, and she looked so anxious it was as if her face was about to explode. 
Academic discussions were naturally proposed by the officials, but if someone put forth contradicting academic opinions in the same academic conference, it would arouse confrontations.
This was unlike conferences for natural science or internists. Surgeons had always been bold and passionate. In other words, their academic confrontations were often extremely intense, and the hostility would often leave a huge impact.
In her haste, Yu Yuan could only use her best skill as a weapon and made a promise. "Doctor Ling, why don't we go back and write an article to voice your opinions? You can make an outline so that you can get your points across when you speak, and it is also more acceptable. I'll do the actual writing and make sure it'll be a good one."
Ling Ran looked at Yu Yuan in surprise. "Have you always been writing the articles casually? No wonder…"
Yu Yuan's jaws dropped. "No wonder what?"
"You've been writing quite slow lately. You used to be able to write an article in two or three months, but nowadays, you only write one after a few months." Ling Ran recalled.
"That's because I was preparing for the attending physician licensure exam… right, Doctor Zuo?" Yu Yuan sent a distress signal to Zuo Cidian.
Zuo Cidian hesitated for a few seconds, looked at the operating table, and slowly said, "I think that Chief Physician Ji of the Provincial Research Institute of Digestive Diseases should be the one who took the lead for giving the expert opinions on the 'choosing of materials for surgery sutures', right?"
Yu Yuan nodded quickly. "Yes, Chief Physician Ji is able to get many projects and funds every year. I think his research institute for digestion is the earliest institution to be built in this field of medicine."
"It doesn't matter how early they built it. It still belongs to the provincial hospital, and since it's the provincial hospital's institution, we don't need to be afraid of him."
"Doctor Zuo, please don't give crazy suggestions." Yu Yuan sensed that something was wrong.
Zuo Cidian curled up his lips and said, "Doctor Yu, Department Director Huo has offended a lot of doctors from the provincial hospital. Besides, if they are provincial hospital doctors, even if we don't offend him, should we be flattering them now?"
Zuo Cidian made a thorough analysis of who was their enemy and friend, and he instantly diverted Yu Yuan's attention from the situation at hand. 
Yu Yuan moved her lips. "We're not Department Director Huo. Doctor Ling is still so young. Do you think it's good for him to be offending experts like Chief Physician Ji?"
"You don't say, but it might be possible." Zuo Cidian laughed a couple of times before saying, "Do you think you can be famous by appearing somewhere? There are so many people doing that, but they only end up as people who attend conferences and cannot contribute to it. Do you think it is possible to be respected, be an expert, make expert opinions, organize an expert consensus session, and not offend anyone?"
Yu Yuan was worried and became serious. "B-But… Doctor Zuo, engaging in academic confrontation is not that simple. If you put forth a refutation, the other party can also refute your points. This kind of thing may last for many years, but in the end, we will need evidence-based work to back up our arguments, and we will need a lot of money for that. We will suffer a lot if the opponent gets a hold of our weakness as well."
"I believe in Doctor Ling." Zuo Cidian did not understand how complex and serious were academic issues, academic confrontations, or expert opinions, but he knew that Ling Ran definitely in first-class in terms of academic issues, and his surgical skills were also top-notch. He believed that Ling Ran would win both in confrontations and getting evidence to back his claims. 
Who cared if it was an arms race as long as they won?
Yu Yuan looked at Ling Ran and then at Zuo Cidian. She was so anxious that she did not know what to do.
Ling Ran saw that the argument was over, and he said, "Then let's follow the original plan."
Yu Yuan was incredibly anxious, but she had no choice but to quietly take out her phone and send a text message to Huo Congjun through WeChat.
Soon, Huo Congjun texted back.
Yu Yuan quickly opened the message and saw Huo Congjun's reply, it was as simple as ever.
[I wish you victory in your first battle!]
….. 
Uneasiness, anxiety, excitement… 
After Yu Yan was tormented by a stream of emotions, the afternoon session finally arrived. 
The place where Ling Ran's second surgery was located was already crowded.
The medical staff from different hospitals, staff from different pharmaceutical sales companies, hotel service staff, as well as the guests, occupied the room so much that it was as crowded as a tourist bus, even though the staff had originally estimated that half or one-third of the room would be empty. 
Several cameras faced the stage from afar, all of which broadcasted Ling Ran's speech as the main event. 
In addition to the live-streaming platform from Yunli Medical Company, two more pharmaceutical companies joined the market. They wanted to establish a live broadcast system between hospitals and medical schools. The scope was not very large, but they lacked a lot of selling points. 
Ling Ran looked at the manuscript in his hands, turned on the microphone, picked it up, and said, "I'd like to talk about some problems regarding hepatectomy today."
There was no need for speeches in academic conferences like Duco to be too formal.
In fact, there was never a lot of formatted things in clinicians' speeches. When it came to surgeries, those speeches would usually be boring. 
At this time, speeches from the bosses sounded more interesting than those of the senior doctors, because they had specially assigned people to write their speeches, and even specially assigned people to improve them… 
As for academic-related things, no one ever knew just how much content was contained in the speech. 
Ling Ran's speech was a little boring. The writer behind his speech was Yu Yuan. And even though she often wrote articles, she seldom wrote speeches. Hence, when Ling Ran stood on stage to read his speech, it became boring. 
Fortunately, Ling Ran was handsome enough that they would never get tired of looking at him, and because of it, they spent a little more effort in trying to analyze what he said. 
"A picture is worth a thousand words. Ling Ran of Yun Hua Hospital is really handsome." Some of the important people under the stage also started discussing with each other with great interest. 
"He is so handsome. What was he thinking by becoming a doctor? Is he insane?"
"He has done more than one thousand cases of hepatectomies in the hospital."
Several bosses of Changxi Province were speechless when they heard the number of hepatectomy cases Ling Ran performed. 
In many cases, the number of surgeries actually served as the only way for a surgeon to improve in a certain surgery, and most of the time, it became an obstruction in their path of improvement. If senior doctors of the same department monopolized a certain type of surgery, junior doctors would not be able to master this type of surgery no matter how talented they were.
In a region, the top-level tertiary Grade A hospitals also monopolized major surgeries. Of course, they would not monopolize those surgeries as strictly as a department would, but as this became a silent influence in the industry, doctors of other hospitals who wanted to break this monopoly would need to put in a lot of effort.
A lot of resources needed to be accumulated especially to perform major surgeries. These resources were time, energy, equipment, and so on. Not only did the doctors and the hospitals need to invest in them, but it was also implied that a large number of patients needed to invest in this as well. 
No hospital could ignore one thousand cases of hepatectomies.
"Almost all of Yun Hua's freelance surgeries were taken by him. Young people are very energetic." Chief Physician Ji of the provincial hospital raised his chin while he sat in the middle. He was practically the most famous doctor in today's occasion. If it were not for the purpose of publishing his expert opinion this time, he would not have come.
"I have heard of that." The bosses who sat near him laughed. 
Some of Yun Hua Hospital's department directors also smiled with an indecipherable expression. "Huo Congjun pushed him to his position. He might be Old Huo's successor."
"So young?"
"He may as well just take over the whole Department of Hepatobiliary and Pancreatic Surgery, right?"
As soon as this statement was made, several people laughed.
"Yun Hua Emergency Medical Center has done more than a thousand hepatectomies. That's an impressive number you took in."
"I've also seen his surgery videos and live broadcasts. It's really amazing. Young people are quite impressive."
The bosses chatted casually. The ones sitting in the middle were all department directors. As far as the current environment in the country was concerned, although there was room for further improvement, it was still quite impossible for them to truly improve.
Therefore, doctors who were department directors were mostly relaxed.
They chatted in a relaxed manner, and their muscles were all relaxed. It was almost like they were on a holiday and enjoying their leisure time.
Right then, as Ling Ran talked about the treatment of the cut surface of the liver, he said, "Titanium clips or hemlock clips can be used to close blood vessels and bile ducts larger than 0.07 inches in diameter, but this is not the best choice. The best and most effective measure should be suture ligation. In addition, 5-0 single strand non-absorbable suture or single strand absorbable suture should be used for ligation. Figure 8 sutures should be used for relatively small blood vessels, and for larger vessels, continuous suture shall be used…"
As Ling Ran said that, many people in the conference room obediently shut their mouths. 
The bosses in the front row turned to Ling Ran when they heard about titanium clips.
Ling Ran remained composed even as he was under the people's gazes. He looked down at his speech and continued, "In this regard, I am against the suggested scope of use for titanium clips put forward by Chief Physician Ji during the expert opinion forum earlier today. In hepatectomies, such use of titanium clips is not conducive to surgeries, and it is not good for the postoperative recovery of patients—"
Chief Physician Ji's expression gradually turned stony.
The doctors' expressions gradually turned into those adopted by people when they wanted to enjoy a show. 
The representative of Duco Medical Company had a twisted expression. His fingers were pinching his thigh. In his mind, he could not help remembering what Ling Ran asked him earlier. 
"'Is any topic okay?"'
"'Yes, just go up and say whatever you want!'"


Ling Ran, a med school senior, begins to see the world like a game UI. He uses it to pave his way towards graduation, a residency, becoming the greatest doctor in the world... And finally getting a Transformer from his newbie packs? Maybe. We don't know yet.

When the time came to travel north and meet with Matthew Donohue they took Sierra's car since it was newer and had less mileage on it. Nathan was so rarely a passenger in other people's cars that it was a bit strange to be sitting anywhere but the driver's seat.  
"Are you sure you can take this much time off for my sake?" she asked a bit hesitantly after they had been on the road for a few minutes. "Don't you have a deadline to meet soon?"
He shook his head. "I'm good for a while; I had a random burst of inspiration and stayed up until 4 AM writing a few days ago. That should be enough to tide me over until I get back to it. This trip is entirely focused on superpower research and getting you taken care of."
"Four AM?! How often does that happen?"
"Not terribly often. If I stay up late writing I usually stop by two. It's kind of hard to keep going once my eyes start to blur, inspiration or not."
Sierra sighed. "You're hopeless. I would say to get a better sleep schedule but I suppose it doesn't really matter considering you have nowhere else pressing to be. Is that how you're able to crank out two or three books a year?"
"Yes but that's a recent development. For the first few years after getting published I only did one a year while I was getting the process down. Last year was the first time I did three and that was only because the releases were staggered," Nathan replied with a shrug.  
"Writing doesn't actually take that long once inspiration strikes. The problem is the outline, the researching, constantly checking in with my editor, rewriting, and so on. Basically what turns my first draft into a published novel. First drafts don't typically take me more than a few weeks to do if I'm sufficiently inspired.  
"Sometimes I get stuck trying to write one chapter for hours because I keep getting distracted. That can make things take longer but if I'm on a roll it takes forty-five minutes to an hour because I type fast."
"What's your typing speed?" Sierra asked curiously.  
"Eighty-six words per minute according to my most recent typing test. That was a while ago though and those tests don't account for everything. For reference though, most professional typists average between fifty and eighty words per minute."
Nathan used to love taking typing tests in school when he was a kid. He kept up the practice online occasionally once he got too old for that to be included in the curriculum anymore.  
She turned and smiled at him since they were at a stoplight. "You're kind of a nerd, you know that?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize! It isn't a bad thing. I think it's cool that you know so many random things. You're a lot smarter than I am."  
Nathan didn't believe that. Sierra had an accounting degree and that involved some seriously hardcore math. "Says the accounting major to the creative writing major. You're probably better at math than I am. People are smart about different things."
"You did minor in physics though. Your math mind has to be at least as good as mine. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if there's anything you're actually bad at," she teased.  
He blinked at her in surprise. That was a strange way of complimenting him. Was he really that impressive in her eyes? There were plenty of things he was terrible at, especially social things.  
"I can come up with a list if you don't believe me."
Sierra rolled her eyes. "Geez, Nate! Learn to take a joke."  
"…what did you just call me?" Nathan asked stupidly. He was fairly certain she called him by his nickname but she had never done that before so he might be hearing things.  
Her cheeks pinked. "Sorry, is that for family only? I noticed Amber and Lisa call you that and I guess it sort of slipped out. Do you prefer Nathan?"  
Honestly, it didn't matter to him one way or the other. He went by Nathan his entire life until Amber was old enough to start talking and couldn't pronounce it. She called him Naten for a while and that eventually shortened to Nate. With her referring to him that way all the time her parents eventually followed suit.  
"Either one is fine. Amber started it because she couldn't pronounce my name when she was little and her parents jumped on the bandwagon after a while. They're the only ones who have ever called me that but it's not like it would be weird for anyone else to do it."
Sierra seemed relieved. "Oh good. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."
Nathan was thrown off but not uncomfortable. Those were two entirely different things. Something in his chest warmed when he realized she wanted to call him by his nickname because that was something people tended to do when they were close.  
He tried not to think about how that wouldn't last much longer and semi changed the subject. "Do you have any nicknames?"
"Only the embarrassing ones my parents called me when I was little but I'm not telling you those. It's kind of hard to make a nickname out of 'Sierra.' Scarlett is Scar and my brother Sam's full name is actually Samuel though we've never called him that. I guess once again I'm the odd one out."
"Eh, don't feel bad. Amber doesn't have a nickname either aside from the silly ones her parents made for her when she was a baby too. Some names aren't really nicknameable."  
Sierra cracked a smile. "Is nicknameable a real word?"
"No but you still understood what I meant so it works," Nathan replied with a shrug. "Technically, nothing is a real word until someone makes it so. Once its use becomes widespread enough it gets added to the dictionary."  
"I suppose you would know since you're a writer."  
"There are plenty of writers out there whose nonsense words have made it into dictionaries. Like Lewis Carroll, the author of the Alice in Wonderland books, who invented the word 'chortled' or John Milton, the author of Paradise Lost, who named the capital city of hell Pandemonium. We still use that to describe a state of chaos.
"There are all sorts of words or phrases that only became popular by accident because of something someone has written, be it a book, letter, or article. Bedazzled, catch-22, malapropism, freelance, serendipity, whodunit, boredom, luggage…there are more but I can't think of them off the top of my head."
"Wow, I never would have guessed some of those. I concede your point. Maybe someday nicknameable will make it into the dictionary because of you," Sierra laughed.  
Nathan was fairly sure she was making fun of him at this point but he didn't really mind. "I kind of doubt it. When would I even be able to slip that into a story? My novels are the wrong genre for something silly like that."
"How did you get into writing thrillers anyway?"
"I didn't always write thrillers…I used to write really dumb stuff about time travel, pirates, outer space and so on when I was younger. But as the world became a darker place so did my imagination."
That was the simplest explanation he could give without going deeper into his traumatic past than he already had with her. Goodness knows he didn't need to give her any more reason to feel sorry for him. Her current pity levels were hard enough to deal with.  
"Interesting" was all Sierra said in response. She paused before speaking again. "How long have you been writing?"  
Nathan was relieved that he had managed to skirt around a dangerous subject. "I think I wrote my first story when I was ten. I still have it saved in my writing folder on my laptop but every time I reread my old stuff out of curiosity I cringe at how terrible it was."  
That made her laugh. "Well now I want to see it but I know you'll never show it to me. What a shame."
"Everyone has their embarrassing secrets that should never see the light of day. I'm sure you have stuff you don't show to anyone either."
Sierra grew more serious. "Oh, for sure. I used to draw these stupid little comics in my school planner on the days I didn't have any homework to remember since the format worked well for comic panels. They're horrendous but I can't seem to throw them away."
Nathan had no idea she liked to draw. She had never talked about that when she talked about her hobbies. He knew she liked to read, bake, garden, and play puzzle games on her phone but had never heard anything about liking to draw.  
"Do you still draw?"  
Her answer was reluctant. "Yeah but I'm not that great. I read a lot of online comics so I tried keeping up with my practice to be able to draw like that someday but no matter how much I practice poses, faces, and whatnot I can't make myself be creative. Drawing a comic of my own is nothing more than a pipedream. I'm no storyteller."
He was surprised she was into something like that considering how amazed she seemed to be by his creative endeavors. But if she was telling the truth about her own creative abilities that was probably why.  


Superpowers are not all they are cracked up to be! Nathan Grant wanted nothing more than to live quietly after the tragedy his power caused when he was younger but fate has other plans for him, including meeting a mysterious woman named Sierra that no one can seem to remember...

*Set in the same universe as The Sound of Silence*

*Cover art by polkadottedscrunchie*

A mesmerizing moment to see, 

But I am in-depth to unsee, 

I am drowning in the cold waters in the pit, 

The death will wait for me. 

*** 
THE YEAR 1904, 100 centuries away from the present time. 

"C'mon, Althea, wake up!" Qing Long cried out as he knelt down and do it over and over again. He was not losing hope on reviving her as she checked her breathing. He could feel the warmth on her lips and nostrils while Qing Long felt light and like a feather grip on his arms.
Althea opened her eyes slowly as she coughed up the water that she had senselessly drunk.
She sat up as Qing Long fell back on the sand and closed his eyes. He was catching his breath too, quite notice how he had dragged himself to the darkest of the waters he could find. He closed his eyes as Althea was drenched, the ribbon had untied from her smooth hair, and it was now cascading all over her shoulders. 


She punched her chest over and over again as she puked all of the waters that must have set inside her lungs. When she finished, she closed her eyes and fell back on the floor, only to find out that her body was weakening at every second. She hitched her breath after a little and couldn't contain the fear that was creeping up on her chest. 

She sat up straight a little while and saw Qing Long was doing the same. He saw that his clothes were still intact as the way it was, his face was still the same, but his eyes were worrisome and bothered about something. He swallowed as he looked up to Althea and they were both connecting their gazes. 

Althea shifted her eyes to the other side and mumbled, "What could happen now? Fang Ying Yue will be lost again, eh? I mean... the Crown Prince will be crazy about her whereabouts for today. I just wanted to know everything that's why I reach out to you." 

Qing Long breathed as he asked, "Are you still worried about Lei Jie? Or are you bothered by how the Fang Clan will kill you if they found out you're talking to me?" 

Althea scoffed as she closed her eyes and looked at him with a stern face. She mumbled, "I was just surprised by what happened but this is getting out of hand. I wanted to go back from where I belong... I just... don't know how I could... maybe..." 

She widened her eyes when she realized something. She swallowed as she wracked her brain about what happened that day. She gasped as she realized everything. She walked inside the Hanzi times that day, with Chen Li by her side, waiting for the announcement to arrive. She was praying to the God of Literature to grant all her wishes, but she knew it was not him that could bring her luck. 

Althea whispered, "I know from that day I would be unlucky as I am, but I still..." 

Qing Long was watching him from that distance and asked, "What is it?" 

Althea looked at him and swallowed as she does get time to finally say what she had to. She looked at that distance, seeing the island of the Qing Empire surrounded with lights like fireflies in the graveyard, and she started to tell, "I am a freelance article writer at the Hanzi Times. During the days, I always break through the morning to wrack my brain up for the newest reports through the actors, actresses, and politicians in Shanghai. Then, there came a writing competition for author attributes. I realized I could win that because of how I do my job." 

Althea laid on her knees close to her chest as she felt the shiver through her thin robes. The trees swayed all around the area as she muttered, "I qualified at the first round of the competition, and I was... been informed that I passed the next stage... but..." 

She leisurely looked at Qing Long's shadow white eyes and smiled sadly while whispering, "I lost because I use the prohibited folklore." 

Qing Long was taken aback by that and he knew it was his legend. He had been passed down to generations after generations, saying that the Cursed Dragon was prohibited, and he was forbidden even to say his name. Qing Long opened his mouth slightly and glanced sidewards. He pursed his lips as he knuckled his fists and knew that Mei was right. 

The Healers were never healers if they will not curse him before even meeting him. 

He nodded as he understood it once and for all. 

"I thought I might win by breaking the normal culture criticism through the prohibited folklore, but I was surprised when it turned out the things that were not my way," Althea gripped the skirt of her robes and a tear fell down on her right cheek. Qing Long was still silent, he doesn't know what to say. 

"I am so in a rage that day. Or should I say earlier. I don't know what time it was now," Althea chuckled before continuing.  

"I stormed out of the company again, went inside my house, and I wanted to find what I was looking for," Althea said in a low voice. She saw that Qing Long was glancing the other way and she licked her lips in devastation and guilt. 

"I apologize for not saying it earlier. I just want to keep it to myself once the time I had to fulfill my duties here just to come back from where I belong. I never knew I would be someone here," Althea said in a soft and delicate voice. She might crack at any second and just wiped the tears that fell down from her cheeks. 

"You also cursed me?" Qing Long recovered himself from the silence he took up a little later while Althea gazed at him. Her eyebrows furrowed a little bit as she was confused about what he was asking.

"When Chinese New Year happens, that's the only time I get to see him." - AX

Althea Xi, an orphan and a freelance article writer in most Shanghai mainland broadcasting and newspaper companies wanted to become a famous top author in China through an international competition that will end before the new year of 2023. She came up with the decision to use the 'The Legend of the Cursed Dragon' as her setting for her work, in which her deceased grandmother always told her when it was nighttime when she was just a kid. But fate turned the tables around when she has been disqualified from the competition as soon as she used the prohibited folklore. 

She used that opportunity to abandon the story that was etched through her mind for a long time by throwing the bejeweled box that she was forbidden to open to the Yangtze River. Her deceased grandmother had been guarding it since her teenage years, and she knew that the box and the legend had been bringing her a stroke of bad luck all throughout her life. But before she could even leave the river, she accidentally tripped through rocks and fell down on the deep waters. 

She swam upwards with all her might, but little did she know, she was being transported through the year 1904, where a Chinese New Year celebration was happening on the side of the river. 

--------------------------- 
A LITTLE EXCERPT: 

"I exude a powerful charm I never imagined that would save you." 

"It was because of the power of love we have on each other." 

He then claimed her lips in the middle of the rain while the rivers of the Yangtze River were evident. He held onto her waist after a while. And she scraped her fingernails on his hair. 

They both love each other, they both do. 

----------------------------

DISCLAIMER: 

The characters portrayed in this drama are fictitious. Organizations, names, places, and situations are based on imagination. 

The story used Chinese New Year as a reference for the Chinese New Year contest, and no distortion of historical resources had been made. Only the parallels of the worlds had been used, and the reality of Chinese mythology had been inked through this novel. 

The cover's background rights reserved through Pinterest artworks. The text is made through the Canva website by the dear author.

Chapter Song Inspiration: Culture Club - Karma Chameleon

Chapter 13: The Article

Mokuba held Joan's hand to the elevator but released it before pushing the button. He crossed his arms and stared at the buttons while he recounted what he'd just witnessed. Seto had never acted that way towards a prostitute. If he kissed them at all, it was only behind closed doors. On rare occasions, one would join them at breakfast the morning after, but Seto would always push her away if she tried anything remotely affectionate on him. "You're right," Mokuba said.

His abrupt words jolted Joan. "About what?"

"That headline is true."

Joan let everything swirl around in her head for a moment. "I think we need to read the whole article."

The elevator opened on the ground floor and Mokuba went about flashing money until he got the hotel manager's attention. Joan followed demurely while Mokuba negotiated wages and promised tips. When he finished, two of the Hyatt's best security officers followed them outside and into the waiting limo.

Once inside the limo, Mokuba found the article on his phone. He scooted close to Joan and they situated themselves with arms around each other so they could both read comfortably. Just as Michael had said, the headline proclaimed: "CEO Falls in Love with Whore."

Mokuba sucked in a breath. There was a photo of Joan, her mascara running, and Seto's iconic white trench coat belted around her. Both brothers had an arm behind her waist and blistering glares. Three Blue Eyes White Dragons rippled across Mokuba's body, and Seto's snarl matched theirs. "Holy shit," Mokuba whispered.

The article itself was lengthy and thorough. Tricia made sure to state that "whore" was merely a "pet name" and that "love" was merely her personal "hunch." The article brought up Marc and Laura but made no mention of Michael, which Joan hoped would keep him safe from his boss' ire, but there were no guarantees. Even so, Michael's wages could never sustain the two of them. Joan kept her fears of unemployment and homelessness to herself as Mokuba kept scrolling down.

Tricia included quotations to back up her conclusion that the rumor — as Pegasus told it — was a gross exaggeration of the facts. The final words of her article drove home her conviction: "The bewildered girl before me was certainly no hardened crack whore but a cherished companion to both Kaiba brothers. I have no doubts that the men responsible for inciting the altercation will be brought to justice."

"Tricia must have stayed up all morning putting that thing together," Joan commented.

Mokuba scrolled back up to the photo. "She did a great job under the circumstances. I told her we needed to get this out before Pegasus and his buddies recovered from their hangovers and realized what hit them."

"Aren't they in jail with Roland right now?"

Mokuba pocketed his phone and took Joan's hand. "Oh, if only. They're too rich to be held for more than five minutes. Maybe if one of them had shot Roland . . . no, they'd have had to kill Seto or me to spend a night in jail. As it stands, the best we might, and that's might, get out of them over this is money, if we settle out of court. Otherwise their lawyers and our lawyers will be locked in a head-to-head battle for a decade. We could tear their companies apart, but we'd risk our own in the process. I'm sure our stock has already taken a dip. Actually, in that case, we could sue Pegasus for defamation, but again we'd want to settle out of court to avoid this flaring up again. I know what Seto said last night, but we've got to face facts."

"Damn." Joan hoped the Kaiba brothers would recoup at least enough money to cover what they shelled out for Roland's release. A night with her was supposed to cost hundreds, not millions of dollars. The limo pulled up in front of a hoity-toity store that Joan recognized immediately. "Hey, Marc and I got kicked out of this place. The attendant was super rude to us."

Mokuba had never been jilted by the attendants at this place, but under the circumstances, he wanted to avoid more drama. "OK, where would you like to go?"

Mokuba took Joan to a store that was more her speed. They laughed at the silly things they saw and exchanged compliments when nice things crossed their radar. It almost felt as if they were pretending again, though the need for that had passed. Despite Joan's insistence that she only needed one dress, not the whole store, Mokuba kept buying until they had six, exceeding Michael's suggestion of five, and throwing in a pair of shoes for good measure.

Though he still preferred not to think about whatever her fees might be, Mokuba accepted that he'd developed a penchant for the same whore as his brother. The word "whore" continued to paralyze Mokuba's tongue, but it ran through his mind nonstop. Mokuba coveted the ease with which Seto could make the word sound respectful, even reverent.

After Joan claimed her purse at the club, she discovered that her phone battery was dead. She sheepishly explained the Clockify situation to Mokuba.

"Just turn it off when you can and don't worry about the extra time," Mokuba said. "Just, you know, let me know when we can do this again."

Joan looked back at the club where she'd been assaulted.

"OK, maybe not that again, but how about this?" Mokuba stepped forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. It was sweet but nothing special.

"Definitely," Joan said when it was done.

Mokuba cocked his head at her odd smirk.

"Because you need more practice." Joan pulled him in for a fuller, deeper kiss. Mokuba felt time slow to a crawl. Red, gold, and green paraded through his mind's eye. He thought the kiss was still happening when he heard her speaking again. "I'm not letting you go back to Japan until you learn to kiss like that."

"Hey!" Their attention turned to a young valet, swinging Mokuba's keys around his finger. "You're that escort, aren't you?" He smiled in a casual, carefree way.

"Yes and no." Joan slipped a business card out of her purse and turned it over to the valet. Getting more clients could be the break she needed if her editing career fell through. "If you want something, I occasionally freelance."

"Cool, good to know." The valet slipped the card into his pocket and handed Mokuba the keys.

Mokuba met the valet's eyes. He seemed harmless enough, certainly more harmless than Marc, Seto, or Michael, but if Joan ran into someone else who recognized her, who knew what could happen. Mokuba turned back to Joan. "OK, until next time?"

"Until next time," Joan agreed. She gave Mokuba another hug before stepping back into the limo. One security guard moved to follow Mokuba, but Mokuba waved off the guard, leaving both with Joan.

When CEO Seto Kaiba propositions Joan, she expects a one-night stand, but he and his brother keep coming back for more. Now the Kaiba brothers want an heir from her and will pay any price to get it. How do Joan’s husband and boyfriend feel about her new profession? More importantly, how do they handle public scrutiny?

The award stickers on this cover are from Wattpad contests. If you would like to see the illustrations for this story, you can find them on the Wattpad version!

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