Beep!
“Ah, we’re finally in.”
After queuing for what felt like forever, Yan Huan and Ying Gong Tong passed the ticket checkpoint and entered the grand Golden Lion Convention Center.
If nothing else, the extravagance of the Golden Lion Group’s wealth hit them instantly. Sunlight filtered through glass ceilings, streaming between the marble pillars to illuminate lion carvings on the surrounding walls. The atmosphere of this cultural festival was made even more magnificent by the opulent decor.
And this was just the first hall.
The sprawling center housed multiple interconnected venues, each with its own the: official ga launches, fashion exhibitions, autograph sessions, doujin fairs, niche doujin zones, entertainnt corners, food courts, and finally, the central "main hall."
The main hall, being the only venue equipped with a stage, was the hub for official activities, including the much-anticipated guest et-and-greet. Bai Yi was also scheduled to appear there later.
Glancing at the map provided by the staff, Yan Huan prepared to discuss with Ying Gong Tong which area they should explore first.
But Ying Gong Tong, now indoors, closed her parasol and pointed toward a direction.
“President, I’m heading to the restroom.”
“Alright, I’ll wait here.”
Ying Gong Tong gave a faint smile and walked away.
Inside the empty restroom, Ying Gong Tong humd a little tune as she pressed a button hidden in her parasol and then began washing her hands.
“Ding ding~”
Monts later, a woman in a qipao and sunglasses entered. It was Nara, Ying Gong Tong’s bodyguard.
Seeing Ying Gong Tong’s relaxed expression, Nara sighed silently and dismissed an alert on her phone.
“My dear Miss Ying Gong, didn’t I tell you? Unless it’s an ergency, don’t press that button, even if I’m right by your side.”
But Ying Gong Tong acted as if she didn’t hear, humming as she used the hand dryer. Her cheerful deanor left Nara blinking in confusion until Ying Gong Tong suddenly pulled out her phone and opened the photo album.
“...”
Nara raised an eyebrow at the screen, which displayed a rare photo of Yan Huan and Ying Gong Tong together, both smiling brightly. It was a treasured picture of the President and Vice President of Yuanyue’s Student Council.
Nara shifted her gaze away from the photo to Ying Gong Tong, who stood proudly with her phone.
“And?”
Hearing this, Ying Gong Tong’s expression shifted. She puffed out her cheeks, sliding through her gallery to reveal more photos.
“‘And’? Look! There’s not just one—there are many! Even ones with effects and stickers!”
“...”
As one photo after another scrolled by, Nara’s expression softened, understanding why she’d been summoned.
“Miss Ying Gong... You didn’t call
here just to show off your photos with Yan Huan, did you?”
Ying Gong Tong hesitated briefly, then retorted,
“These are achievents! Achievents, you hear?! And it’s not just any photo—Yan Huan rejected others and chose to take pictures with !”
“...”
“He said, ‘I can’t leave soone who can’t be photographed alone’—so cool, don’t you think, Nara?!”
“Fine, fine, you win, Miss Ying Gong.”
“I won again?!”
Nara sighed, her expression wordlessly declaring, “Life is hard.” This irritated Ying Gong Tong further, her cheeks puffing up like a balloon.
But when she looked at the photos again, a warm smile replaced her pout.
“Hmph, I don’t care! When we get back, I’m printing these and hanging them on the wall!”
“Sure, and you could put a plaque underneath that says, ‘In Loving mory,’ with a dedication like, ‘May Love Endure Forever.’”
“NARA!!”
Fuming, Ying Gong Tong threw a punch, only for Nara to effortlessly block it with one hand.
When it ca to Yan Huan, Miss Ying Gong’s intelligence seed to flicker. In monts like this, she acted silly and said bizarre things. Yet in private, when observing Yan Huan or confronting potential romantic rivals like Ye Shiyu, her sharpness returned.
“You and Yan Huan really are a perfect match, Miss Ying Gong,” Nara remarked teasingly, her tone perfectly even despite the exaggerated praise.
Though Ying Gong Tong knew better, she let out a small huff and turned her attention back to her cherished photos.
“Hmph, whatever. You just don’t get it. By the way, how’s the setup for the entertainnt zone coming along?”
“All set—fortune-telling, two-player gas, claw machines... And of course, the haunted house.”
“Good.”
Hearing this, Ying Gong Tong’s unsettled emotions cald. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.
These activities would surely fan the flas of romance. Yan Huan would be hers!
“If everything goes as planned, the President will confess to
soon. It’ll feel so natural, so perfect. And if I maintain my persona... He’ll never suspect my true self.”
Ying Gong Tong paused, her thoughts interrupted by Nara’s knowing expression.
“Eh?”
“Your thoughts are written all over your face, Miss Ying Gong.”
Sighing, Nara gave a wry smile.
“But I suppose it’s only in front of
that you can drop the act, right?”
“Hmph, isn’t it because we’re co-conspirators? We both know each other’s worst secrets. We’re stuck together, aren’t we?”
“Maybe so. Since you trust
so much, here’s a small piece of advice.”
“Oh? Advice from you?”
Nara wagged her finger before Ying Gong Tong could roll her eyes.
“Miss Ying Gong, you claim to know Yan Huan very well, don’t you?”
“Of course! I know everything about his daily schedule, and—”
“Forget whether you can keep your true self hidden forever. Let
ask you this—where does Yan Huan find the ti for romance with you, given his studies, Student Council responsibilities, and part-ti job?”
“...”
“And even if your parents are open-minded about love, won’t they scrutinize your future partner’s family and achievents? Especially their background and abilities?”
“...”
Reality struck like a cold wave. Nara’s questions seed even more daunting than the idea of maintaining a lifelong act.
But then Ying Gong Tong rembered sothing—Yan Huan wasn’t without connections.
Last Friday, Ye Shiyu and her mother, Ye Lan, had visited Yan Huan’s rented apartnt. At the ti, Ying Gong Tong had been close to losing her composure. Over the weekend, while Nara prepared the entertainnt zone traps, Ying Gong Tong dug deeper into the Ye family.
It wasn’t hard to find that Ye Lan was a prominent figure in Ye International, a powerful family with imnse influence.
With Ye Lan backing him, Yan Huan wouldn’t need to work so much. His background wouldn’t be a problem either!
Ying Gong Tong’s eyes lit up with newfound hope. In her mind, Ye Lan’s photo from yesterday’s research grew angelic, complete with a halo and wings.
“Girl, pray sincerely to the goddess Ye Lan, and she’ll bless your love~”
At that mont, Ying Gong Tong felt like she’d beco a devout follower of the imaginary "Ye Lan Church."
Her resolve solidified. With effort, she could present Yan Huan’s rits to her parents. Every obstacle would be surmountable.
This was destiny—proof she and Yan Huan were ant to be.
She’d already won.
But just as Ying Gong Tong basked in her imagined victory, a sinister image surfaced: Ye Shiyu, cold and expressionless, appeared behind Ye Lan’s angelic figure.
With horns, bat wings, and a devilish tail, she lood over Ying Gong Tong’s fantasies.
Wait... Did this an her high compatibility with Yan Huan was partly thanks to Ye Shiyu?
No! Stay calm, Ying Gong Tong. The President already said Ye Shiyu was just his sister. That’s perfectly nor—
A mory intruded: Tuesday, in the principal’s office, she’d tried convincing herself that Spencer and Yan Huan were just in a study group.
Ye Shiyu’s gaze toward Yan Huan... Was that really how a sister looks at her brother?
"Curse that Spencer!!"
Nara observed Ying Gong Tong’s shifting expressions, from excitent to icy determination, unable to decipher what she was mulling over.
But ultimately, Nara dismissed it. She was just a bodyguard, and her earlier advice was rely a gesture of goodwill. Matters of the heart were for those directly involved; no outsider could truly intervene.
With a faint smile, she gently patted Ying Gong Tong on the shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Alright, I’ll be waiting for you in the entertainnt zone. Don’t keep your President waiting, Miss Ying Gong.”
anwhile, in the niche doujin section of the Golden Lion Convention Center, a sneeze erupted.
"Ah-choo!"
A blonde beauty suddenly sneezed out of nowhere, rubbing her nose with a puzzled look.
“Seriously? Could Santa Claus still be holding a grudge against
for Christmas?”
This was none other than the clever and sharp-tongued golden lioness, Aria Spencer.
She glanced around at the various booths lined with long queues. Each displayed titles for doujinshi and gas—titles that were utterly incomprehensible to her. Even the symbols and formatting seed intentionally cryptic.
What’s with the code-like titles? Is it to stop outsiders from understanding?
Unbeknownst to Spencer, these cryptic markings signified content ratings, particularly for those restricted to audiences 18 and older.
The ticulous age-rating system in Linn ensured that all audiences could find content tailored to their preferences. But even the strictest systems had their loopholes. For instance, the section Spencer had entered didn’t bother checking IDs. As long as you didn’t blatantly look like a grade schooler, no one stopped you.
Accompanying her was An Le, who excitedly ran off to buy “must-have” items. Spencer, uninterested, lounged near the entrance, waiting for her to return.
“Wow! The new release from Teacher Jiao Tan is incredible!”
“Totally! That scene where the protagonist loses everything was so intense…”
Spencer perked up at the nearby conversation, her golden hair seeming to glow as her curiosity was piqued. Turning toward the two masked fans holding black bags, she eavesdropped on their animated discussion.
“Especially the descent into madness—”
“Right? The subtle buildup of suppressed emotions, the gradual unraveling, and that final mont of complete self-destruction...”
Mid-conversation, the two suddenly froze. An inexplicable chill crept over them as if a beloved treasure was about to be snatched away.
Looking up, they saw Spencer, a stunningly beautiful blonde girl, standing with her arms crossed and an intrigued expression.
“Hey, what are you two talking about? Sounds interesting~”
The two n exchanged glances, a mixture of fear and disdain washing over them. Despite her beauty, she made them uneasy. One attempted to respond, but the other shook his head and quickly pulled him away.
“Cowards.”
Yawning, Spencer watched them scurry off with their precious bags, clicking her tongue in disdain.
“Spencer... I’m back.”
“Huh?”
Turning around, she saw An Le, mask still on, struggling to carry seven or eight black bags filled with purchases.
“I... I had to ask so online friends for help, but I managed to get everything I wanted.”
Even through the mask, Spencer caught a glimpse of An Le’s flushed cheeks, glowing with excitent.
On her shoulder, a small spectral finger puppet rolled its eyes dramatically.
“Buying weird gas and comics doesn’t help when you’re useless in real life.”
An Le glanced at the puppet, her excitent fading as she lowered her head apologetically and clutched the bags tighter.
“So, what’s in those bags, anyway? Everyone looks so thrilled after buying them.”
“Uh… well...”
An Le struggled to explain. How could she possibly describe these peculiar items to an outsider? Especially since she’d had soone else purchase them on her behalf—it was utterly embarrassing!
Seeing her hesitate, Spencer grew impatient,
“Fine, I’ll see for myself!”
“W-Wait, Spencer!”
But timid and awkward An Le couldn’t stop the assertive Spencer, who strode confidently toward one of the booths.
Above the booth hung a sign:
"Pure Ballet~"
"Teacher Jiao Tan’s Latest Masterpiece—Hot Release!"
Spencer brazenly bypassed the queue, showing no regard for the line of over thirty people.
Wait... this is bad!
An Le covered her mouth, horrified. It was too late to stop her. She could only watch as Spencer reached the counter and addressed the masked artist inside.
“One copy, please.”
The artist, a muscular man, paused mid-action, visibly startled by Spencer’s audacity. Her attitude scread entitlent, as if cutting the line was her natural right.
A man in line furrowed his brow, reaching to tap Spencer on the shoulder, but she turned and t his gaze with an icy glare.
In that instant, a wave of dread and discomfort washed over him, forcing him to take a step back.
“Huh?”
Gathering his courage, he spoke up,
“We’re in line here.”
“So?”
“You’re cutting the line! That’s not fair!”
Without a word, Spencer pulled out her wallet, grabbed a wad of cash, and shoved it into his hand.
“Consider the spot mine.”
“I...”
The man wanted to protest. He prided himself on his principles. He wasn’t the kind of man who bowed to money.
But...
It was too much money!
Defeated, he fell silent. The others in line, sensing Spencer’s dominance, chose not to engage.
Satisfied, Spencer turned back to the artist,
“So, one copy of... whatever this is.”
The artist, despite his imposing physique, was shy and introverted. He frowned deeply, clearly unhappy with her behavior. After a mont’s hesitation, he asked,
“Did you queue up?”
Spencer blinked, then honestly shook her head.
“Nope.”
“...”
The artist and the line behind her were collectively stunned.
“...No queue, no sale.”
It took him several seconds to find the nerve to reply, his voice firm.
Spencer tilted her head, noticing the "R16" sign above the booth for the first ti. Stroking her chin, she finally understood.
Oh, so that’s what this ans!
Looking back at the artist, she nodded.
“Fine, I’m lining up now. Sell it to .”
“...”
“...”
The surrounding atmosphere turned unbearably awkward.
Before the tension could escalate, An Le, face flushed red with embarrassnt, rushed forward and grabbed Spencer’s arm.
“I’m so sorry! So sorry, everyone! Spencer, let’s go!”
“What? But I haven’t bought it yet!”
“Please, I’m begging you! Let’s just leave!”
An Le, on the verge of tears, desperately tugged at Spencer. The sheer humiliation of the scene was too much to bear.
Grumbling, Spencer reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled away, though she cast one last glance at the line.
“Oh, right...”
She turned back, snatching the cash from the man she’d paid earlier.
“If I didn’t get it, then my money doesn’t count. Fair’s fair.”
“...”
An Le’s face turned beet red, nearly steaming as she muttered apologies to the crowd while dragging Spencer out of the niche doujin section.
“Stop pulling !”
“S-Sorry! Let’s go sowhere else, okay? Anywhere but here, please...”
Slightly appeased by An Le’s desperation, Spencer crossed her arms and pouted.
“Fine. But where else is fun around here?”
“Anywhere you want, just not here...”
“Oh, really? Anywhere?”
Smirking mischievously, Spencer pulled out the convention map and tapped a point on it.
“Then I want to go here!”
“H-Huh? That’s...”
An Le glanced at the map, paling when she saw where Spencer was pointing.
"Entertainnt Zone: Killer Vine Murder School~"
It was...
A haunted house!
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