In a large, simple room with dim lights and soft shadows dancing on the walls, a television flickered quietly in the corner. The news was playing—and not just on that channel, but on every single one. It was the sa story everywhere.
On the screen, a reporter held a mic and stood next to a man in a black suit and dark sunglasses. The man looked serious—older, maybe in his late forties—and clearly not in a good mood.
"So, what do you think? Was it worth the money?" the reporter asked.
The man didn’t even wait. He waved both his hands quickly and frowned.
"Definitely not! We paid three thousand dollars just to see her in person, and the fight barely lasted six seconds!" His voice was sharp and angry. "It’s daylight robbery!"
The reporter nodded, then stepped over to the next man, who stood just beside him.
"And you, sir? What’s your take on it?"
The second man sighed deeply, then stared at the cara with dazed, dreamy eyes.
"I think it was worth it… definitely worth it," he said, as if rembering the mont. "Damn, I wish it was
who got hit by those breasts…"
He didn’t even try to hide it. His face was red, his eyes sparkling with weird joy.
———
anwhile, all of this was being watched by Scarlett herself.
She was lying on a big, comfy bed in a cozy countryside house. Her long purple hair spilled across the pillow like waves of silk. Her face was half-buried in the blanket, and even now, she wore her usual blindfold, which hid her mysterious eyes — one glowing red, the other a vibrant, electric blue. Very few people had ever seen them.
Her expression was full of regret, frustration, and total embarrassnt.
"Why… why did I do that?" she groaned into the bed, her voice muffled. "That was so cringe!"
She rolled over, kicking her legs like a frustrated kid, clearly struggling with the mory.
"I just wanted to show off a little to irish! I thought it'd be cool, If I use my psychokinesis by getting close hit him with an invisible barrier around
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