Lina sat up abruptly and started pacing the room.
No more wandering blindly into ominous glass cells. No more trusting warm smiles backed by secret underground bunkers. No more deaths.
This ti, she’d play smart. Strategic.
New Plan:
Step One: Avoid the basent. It’s a bad ending waiting to happen.
Step Two: Keep Fredrich at arm’s length. Charm him, yes—but don’t trigger his darker tendencies.
Step Three: Secure communication with her grandparents. Check in. Confirm Christian’s movents. Avoid getting tracked and kidnapped.
Step Four: Slowly gain Fredrich’s trust—without feeding his obsession. She needed him if she wanted to avoid Christian.
Step Five: Find a way to earn the Completion Star without dying, becoming a hostage, or being turned into another glass case girl.
She paused, fists clenched at her sides. Seed about right, and easy enough . . . or so she hope.
"This ti," she whispered, "I’ll make sure I win."
Because screw B-rank worlds. She was never going back there again. It was like being demoted to a newbie after earning your stripes as a veteran—insulting, frustrating, and completely unacceptable.
And screw being anyone’s fragile little bird in a cage.
6romance trap at a ti.
Starting now.
Lina slept like a log that night—finally—after what felt like a lifeti of stress, failure, gunshots, and . . . being murdered. A minor detail.
The soft mattress, warm sheets, and sheer exhaustion all worked in her favor. She needed every ounce of energy if she wanted to execute the plan now forming in her head.
The mission? Simple on paper: Win Fredrich’s trust. Beco indispensable. Survive.
Because screw B-rank worlds. She was never going back there again. It was like being demoted to a beginner lobby after maxing out a main account. Utter humiliation.
When the morning ca, she stretched, rolled over, and smiled sweetly to herself.
Today, Lina would be the perfect house guest. The obedient darling. A dream in slippers and subtle charm.
By the ti she ca downstairs, she was a vision of harmless dosticity. She wore a soft white blouse that looked just wrinkled enough to say, "I didn’t try hard" but elegant enough to imply, "I’m naturally graceful."
Her hair was down, slightly tousled, and she wore the faintest hint of color on her lips. Not seduction—just soone too soft to pose a threat.
Fredrich was already seated in the drawing room, a cup of black coffee in hand, dressed in one of his usual, unfairly flattering ensembles. Navy slacks. Gray shirt, open collar. Sleeves rolled. Ugh. Could the man look any more like a catalog villain?
"Good morning," Lina said brightly, her voice light and chipper, almost too chipper for soone who had recently witnessed a living Barbie doll in a glass box.
Fredrich looked up, blinked, and then gave her a small smile. "You look . . . rested."
"Mm. Best sleep I’ve had since forever." She poured herself tea and sat just across from him, careful to fold her legs like a graceful movie heroine. "I wanted to thank you for everything. Really."
His brow lifted ever so slightly. "Everything?"
"Letting stay. Feeding . Not . . . shooting ," she added with a playful chuckle.
Fredrich let out a low hum, almost a laugh. "You’re oddly cheerful this morning."
She tilted her head. "Well, I realized sothing last night. I’ve spent too much ti being afraid of Christian. I want to stop being a burden and start being useful. Let help with sothing today."
Fredrich stared at her, contemplative. "You want to help?"
"Of course!" she leaned in, smile syrup-sweet. "House chores, reading docunts, folding your suits, teaching your guards basic table manners . . . I’m very talented."
He blinked. "You want to fold my suits?"
"If you let steam them too, then yes."
There was a pause. Then a smirk tugged at his lips. "Alright, Miss Lina. Impress ."
And so it began. Operation "Play the Good Girl Until I Win."
Every day after that, Lina took on a new persona. She played the role like she was in a drama. No, like she was in an Oscar-worthy performance.
She greeted the staff politely. Helped the chef peel vegetables (poorly, but it was the thought that counted). She brought Fredrich coffee exactly the way he liked it—strong, no sugar, a small cookie on the side (which she ate half the ti, but again, thought that counted).
She never asked about the girl in the glass. Never looked toward the forbidden hall. Never said a word out of place.
And slowly, Fredrich began to open up.
On the fourth day, he brought her to the balcony and talked about his love for architecture.
On the sixth day, he let her walk through the garden without a guard hovering ten feet behind.
By the end of the second week, she had full access to the library. A small victory, but a huge step.
Yet Lina knew better than to drop her guard. The man was charming, yes. Handso. Mysterious. But underneath it all, he was a live wire disguised as velvet.
One night, she "accidentally" brushed his hand while reaching for the teapot. He froze. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Then, like a shy schoolgirl, she pulled away and murmured, "Sorry."
He didn’t move for ten full seconds. When he did, it was only to quietly pour her tea.
Progress.
There were monts, small ones, when she saw the possessiveness lurking behind his calm facade. Like when she complinted a guard’s cologne and Fredrich quietly had him reassigned the next morning.
At least he didn’t kill him.
Or when she wore a sumr dress and he simply said, "That’s a lovely color. But perhaps sothing warr tomorrow."
Not a command. Just a suggestion.
But every "suggestion" was followed by sothing subtle: a new outfit placed on her bed. A scarf. A necklace. All tasteful. All expensive. All controlling.
Was it romantic? If you had a thing for dark, brooding billionaires with light yandere vibes, sure. But Lina was here for survival, not Stockholm Syndro.
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