The top shelf held everyday supplies: dical tape, fever reducers, anti-inflammatory drugs…
He opened a hidden compartnt, then slid out a third inner shelf. From the depths, he took out a bottle, shook two pills into his palm, and swallowed them dry.
About ten minutes passed.
The dication began to take effect.
He leaned against the refrigerator, exhaling softly. His eyes narrowed—staring intently at the woman before him.
She knelt in front of him, smiling gently.
Her soft fingers brushed his cheek.
Atticus instinctively reached out, caught her hand, and leaned into her palm. His voice was low, rimd with suppressed sobs.
“Clarissa… it hurts so much. It really hurts…”
Her smile softened even more. “Atticus, you’ve been naughty again.”
“No… I’ve been very good,” he murmured. “Clarissa, please trust one more ti…”
“Then don’t sleep on the floor,” she said gently. “You’ll catch a cold…”
Atticus jolted back to reality.
He opened his eyes sharply.
Clarissa was gone.
Only the ruined room remained—and red pills scattered across the floor.
He slowly bent down, picking up each pill one by one, carefully returning them to the bottle. Then he replaced it inside the refrigerator.
The apartnt fell silent once more.
The pills were homade, extracted from the sap of a rare vine. Their pain-relieving effect was dozens of tis stronger than ordinary analgesics—but the price was steep. They overstimulated the brain, easily causing disorientation, confusion, and vivid hallucinations.
Atticus cleaned the room thodically before going to wash up.
When he returned, he took a sleeping pill from the bedside table. He wrapped the white hairband around his arm, lay down on the bed, pulled his coat into his arms, and slowly closed his eyes…
......
Clarissa had an exhausting day.
After the eting ended, she still had a mountain of accumulated paperwork to get through. She flipped through each docunt patiently while Oriana went to prepare her coffee.
Just as Oriana stepped out of the break room with the cup in hand, she ran straight into Mark.
He had been filming an ad for a top international jewelry brand downstairs. Dressed in a tailored black suit with no tie and two buttons undone, his silver hair slicked back, he looked effortlessly striking—broad shoulders, long legs, flawless face, dangerously handso.
Oriana instantly tensed. “Aren’t you shooting an ad? What are you doing up on the rooftop office floor?”
“An ad. How long could it take?” Mark replied lazily. He was famous for finishing scenes in one take.
Oriana twitched her lips. She hated his natural arrogance. Atticus could be just as aloof, yet for so reason, Mark irritated her far more.
He stepped closer.
Oriana instinctively blurted out, “What are you doing?”
Mark reached out and casually snatched the coffee from her hand. “Is this for her? I’ll take it. You can go.”
“I’m Clarissa’s secretary and assistant. Give that back! Get down here!” Oriana lunged for it.
Mark lifted his arm slightly. She couldn’t reach.
Furious, she cursed, “Mark! You son of a bitch—”
“Oriana, what’s all the noise?” Clarissa’s voice carried from inside the office as she set down her work and stepped out.
The mont Mark saw her, he imdiately walked over. “Clarissa.”
“Hey! You—” Oriana tried to follow, but Mark pulled her aside with one hand.
“Mark, what’s going on?” Clarissa asked, clearly confused.
Mark smiled lightly. “Let’s talk inside. Have so coffee first.”
Clarissa sighed inwardly but nodded. “Co in.”
She turned and went back into the office.
Mark followed closely behind and placed the coffee beside her. Clarissa, feeling slightly drowsy, took a sip.
The flavor was unmistakably Oriana’s.
She set the cup down and said lightly, “Stop bullying her all the ti.”
Mark froze for a second, then replied, “I don’t. She bullies every day.”
Every ti he tried to get closer to Clarissa, that girl would deliberately sabotage him. If it weren’t for how much Clarissa trusted her, he would’ve already sent Oriana as far away as possible.
Under Clarissa’s calm gaze, he added, “Alright, I get it. I’ll let her do whatever she wants.”
Clarissa glanced at the pile of docunts, then back at him. “Did you co to see about sothing?”
Mark tilted his head, watching her avoid his eyes, then got straight to the point.
“Clarissa, be my date for this month’s banquet.”
“My date?” Clarissa was montarily stunned. Then she shook her head without hesitation. “That’s not appropriate. You should find soone else.”
“Clarissa—”
“Mark.” She cut him off, finally lifting her eyes to et his with an unfamiliar coolness. “I thought you would understand. I really hoped you would.”
The smile on Mark’s face slowly faded. “Give a reason. Why?”
“A reason?” Clarissa hesitated briefly, then spoke quietly.
“You were the first person who ever stood up for . Back then, I truly saw you as my brother. Then you left. You told you didn’t want to be my brother anymore.”
Her voice remained steady, but her fingers tightened slightly.
“I was devastated. I finally thought I had a family… and then you abandoned .”
Mark’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have said those things to hurt you.”
If he could go back, he would never leave. No matter how difficult it was, he would stay by her side—maybe everything would be different.
Clarissa looked at him and gently shook her head.
“That was the first missed chance.”
Under his dazed stare, she continued calmly,
“Later, when you transferred to my school and ca back into my life—we still couldn’t be together. That was the second missed chance.”
Mark’s breathing hitched.
Sowhere deep inside him, a sudden realization struck like a knife to the chest.
Then Clarissa’s voice continued, unhurried and painfully clear:
“But I know very well what that feeling is—and what it isn’t. What we had was the past. It’s not the kind of heartbeat I want anymore.”
“It belongs behind us.”
“There can be no future between us.”
Oriana hovered outside the office door, pressing her ear close, straining to catch even a hint of what was being said inside.
But the door was impeccably soundproof. The mont it shut, all sound vanished.
“That bastard Mark… if you dare pull anything on you, I’ll make you pay,” she muttered under her breath, pacing irritably.
After a long while, the door finally shifted.
Oriana imdiately straightened up, hurried back to the sofa in the hallway, picked up the coffee, and feigned a perfectly casual posture.
Then she saw Mark walk out.
His usual lazy confidence was gone. His posture was stiff, his expression dark and dejected.
Oriana blinked in surprise. What the hell just happened?
She ignored him completely and slipped into the office. Clarissa was still seated at her desk, calmly working as if nothing at all had occurred.
“Ms. Clarissa?” Oriana asked cautiously.
“Hm? What is it?” Clarissa looked up.
eting that tranquil gaze, Oriana quickly shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll get back to work.”
“Wait a second.”
Oriana’s heart skipped. “Y-Yes?”
Clarissa smiled faintly and pushed a stack of files toward her. “Take these out. I’ve already reviewed them—no issues.”
“Oh… okay.” Oriana obediently picked up the docunts and left.
The door closed softly behind her.
Clarissa let out a quiet sigh, then quickly refocused on her work.
She worked with frightening efficiency. In just over two hours, she finished reviewing the rest of the docunts.
After organizing everything, she headed to her private cubicle. On nights she worked late, she often brought Abyss with her.
Abyss lay curled inside, fast asleep, surrounded by torn-open snack wrappers. A Persian rug covered the floor, with a sofa, a small refrigerator, and other furnishings lining the space.
Hearing movent, Abyss lifted its nose, picking up Clarissa’s scent. Its eyes slowly opened, and it stretched lazily with a huge yawn before settling back down.
By the ti Clarissa returned ho, exhaustion weighed heavily on her bones. After showering and lighting the incense, she lay down.
Only a few sticks remained.
The incense was from Atticus—a whole box of it. There had been over a dozen slender sticks inside, and she burned one every night.
Tonight, however, sleep did not co peacefully.
The sa dream returned.
White feathers rained down once more—thick, frantic, endless. Butterflies fluttered past her eyes in waves. She instinctively chased after them, reaching out to catch one—
And pain exploded through her fingertip.
She looked down.
Blood coated her finger, bright and wet, the sting sharp and unbearable—
She jolted awake in a gasp.
Her entire body was drenched in sweat, her heart slamming violently in her chest.
The room was pitch-black. Clarissa fumbled for the bedside lamp. With a soft click, amber light poured into the darkness.
Instinctively, she glanced beneath the bed.
Abyss was sitting there, staring at her with a puzzled expression.
Clarissa wiped sweat from her forehead and beckoned weakly. “Abyss… co here.”
Abyss leapt onto the bed and curled up beside her. Clarissa pulled the blanket around it and lay back down.
She buried her fingers in its smooth, warm fur, trying to slow her racing heartbeat.
The dream again.
Not only had the symptoms not eased—they were worse.
She glanced at her fingertips. Smooth. Pale. Not a single mark.
The incense beside her was still burning. Only a few sticks remained, their faint smoke drifting lazily into the air.
Still, no matter how she tried, sleep would not return.
She picked up her phone from the charging stand and opened WeChat.
Her finger paused over that black profile picture.
The screen was still empty. No posts. No updates. Not even a change of avatar.
He really was impossible to read.
He should be asleep by now… she thought. Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow. I wonder how his illness is…
Realizing what she was thinking, Clarissa let out a quiet, self-mocking breath and shook her head.
She put the phone back down and looked at Abyss sleeping beside her.
“Abyss, I had that dream again. Why do you think that is?”
Her voice dropped into a whisper.
“Lately I feel… strange. Like I’ve lost sothing—so mories. But it doesn’t feel like normal amnesia. Do you think that scumbag Xerxes was telling the truth?”
Abyss opened its mouth as if to respond, gave a slow, solemn nod—then imdiately shook its head again.
Clarissa smiled faintly.
Then she whispered, almost to herself,
“Actually… it’s fine if the dreams co back. At least then I’ll have a real excuse to see him again…”
Although Atticus had said he was single, and his ho showed no sign of another woman, she always felt there was soone important in his heart—soone he could never let go of.
Soone who kept him from opening himself to anyone else.
Abyss made a small sound and gently swished its tail against her, as if comforting her.
Clarissa exhaled slowly and patted its back.
“Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep…”
She reached out, turned off the lamp, and closed her eyes.
When her breathing finally grew steady, Abyss lifted its head slightly and looked toward the balcony.
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