The two boys I grew up with misunderstood me, bullying me relentlessly for the sake of their golden girl. They burned my stomach with a cigarette and crushed my drawing hand. Their voices were ice-cold: "Sydney, this is what you owe Serena." When the truth finally came to light, they still shielded the real bully behind them: "So what if we hit her? She's not dead." It wasn't until the plot’s influence started wiping my memories of them that they finally regretted it. The two former best friends brawled in the streets over me. They dropped to their knees, begging me not to leave, their voices trembling: "You promised we'd be best friends for the rest of our lives." 1 When I arrived, Caleb was still shooting hoops. He casually lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his jersey riding up to reveal a lean waist. Asher sat on the bleachers drinking water, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers. The indoor court was completely empty. Seeing me, Caleb dribbled the ball, his tone impatient. "Why are you so late?" "The line for the boba place was really long today." During our afternoon classes, Caleb had suddenly texted me demanding a drink from a specific shop. I knew his volatile temper well, so I skipped class and waited in line for two hours. But I was still late. Out of habit, I started to apologize: "I'm sor—" Thump. The heavy thud of a basketball slamming into my chest cut me off. The sheer force knocked me to the hardwood floor, but my hands instinctively protected the two cups of boba. I didn't want to go back and wait in that line again. A sharp pain shot up my legs. I winced, letting out a soft hiss. "My bad. Slipped." Caleb offered a half-hearted, careless apology, then crouched down and pulled out his phone. "How much was it?" Before I could answer, he swiftly transferred the money. The notification for a $5,000 transfer echoed loudly in the dead-silent gym. "It didn't cost that much." I frowned, instinctively reaching for my phone to send the excess back. But the moment I pulled it out, Caleb snatched it from my hand. And smashed it violently against the floor. I stared blankly at the shattered screen. I tried to push down the rising fear and ache in my chest, reasoning with myself that $5,000 was enough to buy a new phone anyway. No wonder he sent so much. But a second later— "How could it not cost that much?" Caleb's lip curled. As he looked at me, he suddenly grabbed me by the throat and slammed me back against the floor. He sneered. "Aren't you desperate for cash? Didn't you take three grand to hire Vance's crew to harass Serena?!" The back of my head struck the hardwood hard. A blinding pain swallowed me whole. The boba tea I had protected spilled everywhere, the hot liquid soaking my clothes. I gritted my teeth against the pain. My first instinct was to explain: "I didn't!" "Caleb." A smooth, calm voice drifted over. It was Asher. Caleb was a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest spark, but Asher had always been gentle. He would listen to reason. I looked up at him, pleading for help. But Asher just said: "Hurry it up." He looked down, shielding his lighter's flame. "And cover her mouth. Her crying is annoying." When he glanced at me, his eyes were filled with undisguised disgust. I froze. And then, an uncontrollable, freezing chill seeped into my very bones. 2 A long, long time ago, my relationship with Caleb and Asher wasn't this toxic. My mother was a maid for Asher's family, the Montgomerys. I had known them since we were toddlers. You could even say we were childhood sweethearts. Caleb had a vicious temper and threw punches over the slightest insult. Asher seemed warm and gentle, but deep down, he was aloof and incredibly hard to get close to. But they were so good to me. Whenever I got bullied, Caleb was always the first to step up and fight them off. "There are tissues in my bag." He’d throw punches with one hand while barking orders at Asher without looking back. "Get the scented ones and wipe her tears." Caleb used to complain that carrying tissues was unmanly. So Asher became the designated comforter, doubling as Caleb's lookout. I had a sweet tooth, so Asher always kept candy in his pockets. "Guess what flavor I have today?" The beautiful young boy would coax me softly. "If you guess right, you can have three pieces." But whether I guessed right or wrong, I always ended up eating only one piece. One for me, one for Asher, one for Caleb. Asher always knew I would never hoard them for myself. "Orange again?" Caleb, having chased off the neighborhood kids, would take my backpack, tear open a wrapper, pop the candy into his mouth, and frown. "Can't you buy a different flavor next time?" "I didn't buy them for you." "Whatever. Just get something I like next time." "Sure. I'll just take your allowance next month to pay for it." "Asher, you extortionist!" On the surface, they bickered constantly. Though it was usually just Caleb yelling, while Asher gently but ruthlessly fired back. I'd stand between them, desperately trying to play peacemaker, until Caleb would laugh, carelessly throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Relax, I'd never put our little girl in a tough spot." Asher would scoff softly, but he never disagreed. Back then, I naively thought the three of us would stay like that forever. Until we turned fourteen. 3 Because my mom worked at the Montgomery estate, I was naturally closer to Asher. It was the day of Asher's birthday. The three of us had planned to skip school and spend the entire day at the amusement park. But halfway there, Asher realized he forgot something and wanted to run back home. So, we stopped by the Montgomery estate first. And walked right into a sickening scene. Clothes strewn across the floor, a man's guttural groans, a woman's soft crying... And at that exact moment, Asher's mother was lying in a hospital bed, gravely ill. Instinctively, I grabbed Asher's hand, trying to pull him out of the house. He let me pull him, his face utterly devoid of emotion. But the moment we stepped outside, he stopped and mercilessly ripped his hand from my grasp. He looked at me, a mocking smile on his lips. Asher asked, "Sydney. You recognized her voice, didn't you?" Caleb stood next to us, completely confused. I opened my mouth, but not a single word came out. "Why are you crying?" I hadn't even realized tears were blurring my vision. Asher reached out and wiped my tears with the same gentle touch he always used, but his words were made of ice. He said, "If anyone should be crying, shouldn't it be me?" My mother had always treated Asher like her own. Because his mother was constantly sick, my mom was the one who raised him. Asher knew her voice just as well as I did. So he knew. Being fourteen didn't mean we were entirely ignorant. It was exactly because he understood that the betrayal cut so deep. The intrusion of an outsider, the shattering of his family. Asher hated my mother, but he hated his father even more. And he began to hate me, too. Caleb sensed the shift in the air. He tried to say something to lighten the mood, but Asher cut him off coldly. "Caleb. This has nothing to do with you." Even though Caleb argued with Asher all the time, Asher was his anchor. He listened to him more than anyone. So Caleb ultimately stayed quiet, looking at me with a complicated expression. I just kept my head down, avoiding his gaze, my body trembling with cold. None of us ever spoke about what happened that day. Mr. Montgomery was still the warm, polite patriarch. My mom continued to gently care for Asher and me. But Asher started to hate me. Every day, the hatred grew. Yet, he learned to wear a mask. Besides me and Caleb, no one else could see his disgust. Caleb became the guy caught in the middle, torn between his two best friends. Until Asher's mother passed away. Not long after, my mother became the new Mrs. Montgomery. "Your mother worried about you until her final breath." Mr. Montgomery patted Asher's shoulder, sounding heartbroken. "I'm too busy with work to care for you properly, and this house needs a woman's touch. Asher, you have to believe I loved your mother. But I hope you can understand my difficult position, okay?" My mother stood beside him, clutching his arm, whispering words of comfort. Asher said nothing. He just stayed quiet for a moment, then looked up at Mr. Montgomery and my mom with a smile. A perfectly warm smile. "I understand completely." Mr. Montgomery looked relieved. My mom, barely able to hide her excitement, told Asher she would treat him like her own flesh and blood. I stood in the distance, watching the absurd theatrical display, feeling physically sick. But Asher acted like everything was perfectly fine. Even though I knew betrayal was the thing he despised most in the world. In that moment, Asher looked like a total stranger. I felt like I had never known him. Yet, I had no right to call him out. He must have noticed me staring. Asher turned his head. The calm smile was still glued to his face. But the smile didn't reach his eyes. Wordlessly, he mouthed something to me: Disgusting. 4 Disgusting. Caleb didn't hold back. The air around me felt so thin I couldn't breathe. Through my desperate struggling, I faintly heard Asher sigh. Followed by a mocking chuckle. Because of that chuckle, Caleb loosened his grip slightly. I gasped greedily for air, my eyes burning red. Pushing myself up with everything I had, my voice came out a ragged croak: "I didn't do it." I knew exactly what they were talking about. Ever since my mom married his dad, I had been permanently exiled from our three-person world. Caleb and Asher grew even closer. Two halves of the same whole. They even fell for the exact same girl. Serena Blair. The wealthy, beautiful heiress of the Blair family. A few days ago, rumor had it Serena was cornered in an alley by a gang of local thugs. When she was rescued, her face was bruised and swollen. Soon after, whispers started circling that I was the one who lured her out. That it was my fault she was ambushed. At first, I didn't care. But I never expected Caleb and Asher to actually believe it. And I certainly never expected them to "avenge" her like this. I used to think that no matter how much they hated me now, they would at least believe my character when it came to things like this. But Caleb just scoffed. He stood up suddenly, staring down at me like I was garbage. "You're exactly the same. You haven't changed a bit." His tone was lazy. "I really don't want to dirty my hands with you." "Use your feet, then." Asher walked over. He was a germaphobe. He glanced in disgust at the spilled boba on the floor and stopped a few feet away. "You can just throw the shoes away later." An inexplicable panic seized my chest. I looked at Asher in disbelief. I knew he hated me because of what my mother did. But just a few days ago, this same boy was gently bandaging a scrape on my arm, his demeanor impossibly soft. I naively thought he was softening up. I thought it was the prelude to us fixing things. "Asher, I didn't do it." Fighting through the pain, my voice shook. More than Caleb's fists, I cared about Asher's judgment. Asher said nothing. He just took a step closer, crouched down, and murmured cryptically, "Your clothes are all ruined." He reached out and slowly, methodically lifted the hem of my shirt. His freezing fingertips brushed against my stomach, sending violent shudders down my spine. Asher chuckled softly. "I've always wanted to say this, Sydney... your waist is so narrow." The dread pooling in my chest grew thick. I instinctively tried to crawl backward, but Asher pinned me down. "Why are you so disobedient?" The gentle smile never left his face, but without a second of hesitation, he pressed the glowing cherry of his lit cigarette directly into the soft skin of my stomach. His smile turned sadistic. "Even if you didn't do it, you still made Serena upset." "I heard you have that art scholarship competition next week?" Caleb stepped forward. He grinned down at me, then slowly, deliberately stepped his heavy sneaker onto my right hand—my drawing hand. And dug his heel in, crushing bone against hardwood. He spoke casually: "Withdraw." I suddenly remembered: Serena was also competing in that art contest. But for me, winning that scholarship was the only way I could change my fate. So, even as I trembled in blinding agony, I gritted my teeth and refused: "No." I couldn't drop out. It was my only way out. I absolutely couldn't— "We aren't asking for your opinion." Asher's voice was light and airy, sounding just like the times he used to comfort me. And Caleb was even more direct: "Drop out, or I'll cripple your hand right now." His expression was colder than I had ever seen it. "Sydney, this is what you owe Serena." 5 I never owed Serena anything. But no one believed me. Serena moved into the mansion next to the Montgomery estate during the spring semester of our sophomore year. She was like the female lead of a movie—the moment she appeared, she effortlessly commanded Caleb and Asher's entire attention. Everyone loved her. So, whenever Serena showed even the slightest hint of annoyance toward me, everyone assumed I was the one in the wrong. Even when I had done absolutely nothing. But for some reason, whenever I was near Serena, my emotions would completely spiral out of my control. Until one night, I had a dream. In the dream, I realized the world I lived in was just a novel. Serena was the destined female lead, and I was just a minor, pathetic cannon fodder villain. But Caleb and Asher weren't the male leads either. In the future, they would turn on each other in a brutal war over Serena, ending with one dead and the other crippled. The dream felt terrifyingly real, and several events that happened soon after proved it wasn't just a nightmare. So, I arrogantly assumed I was holding the script for a redemption arc. I thought I could save them. I wanted to alter Caleb and Asher's tragic fates. They were the only light I had in my life, even if that light had faded into darkness. I wanted to try. But my desperate attempts only pushed them further and further away. 6 Caleb didn't hold back on his stomp. The doctor told me I needed to rest my hand for a long time. Intensive drawing was completely out of the question. But the competition was next week. I sat in the cold hospital corridor all night. When I dragged my exhausted, numb body back to my dorm the next day, I ran into Serena downstairs. Her eyes darted to my bandaged hand. She smiled faintly. "I heard you haven't found a live model for your entry yet? Need my help?" I stared at her blankly. I actually had found a model a long time ago. It was Asher. When he agreed to sit for me, I had deluded myself into thinking we were finally repairing our bond. I was so happy. But Serena needed Asher for something, so Asher went to her instead. I had gone to Caleb for help, only to be ruthlessly mocked. "I'd advise you not to waste your time." His arrogant, careless voice still echoed in my ears. "No matter how hard you try, Serena's taking first place anyway." —It was as if no matter what I did, Caleb and Asher would blindly, recklessly abandon everything to run to her. For a split second, I wanted to just give up. But Serena wasn't done with me. She let out an "Ah," and pulled a very familiar notebook from her designer bag. "This is your diary, isn't it? The handwriting looks like yours." Seeing the worn cover, my pupils shrank. Without thinking, I lunged forward to snatch it back. "Give it back!" Serena dodged, pretending to lose her balance, and fell to the ground. I reached for the diary again, but a furious roar exploded behind me. "Sydney!" —It was Caleb. 7 Caleb stormed over and shoved me hard. He carefully helped Serena up, treating her like fragile glass. I instinctively looked away, and unsurprisingly, I saw Asher standing a few feet away. He didn't even look at me. He walked straight toward Serena. "What are you holding?" His voice was perfectly level. "I found Sydney's diary in the classroom." Serena offered Asher a shy, apologetic smile. "I originally wanted to bring it back to her personally, but I didn't expect her to react so aggressively." She spoke while stepping toward me. "If I caused a misunderstanding, then I apologize." "What are you apologizing for?" Caleb snatched the diary from Serena's hands. I suddenly realized what he was about to do. I tried to rush forward, but Asher blocked my path. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable but his words razor-sharp: "What are you so afraid of?" Only then did I realize I was shaking. Shaking uncontrollably. Caleb flipped through the pages, sneering. "It's just a diary, why are you overreacting—" He stopped mid-sentence. His body froze. His expression warped into something deeply complicated. The silence stretched until Serena covered her mouth, letting out a small "Ah," and joked lightly: "Oh my... this looks like a stalker's diary." There was nothing illicit or creepy in that notebook. A while ago, my memory had started failing me. It wasn't sudden. It was like air—invisible, slowly eroding my past. By the time I noticed, I had already forgotten so many details about my life with Caleb and Asher. Like ink on a page being methodically erased. The loss of control terrified me. So I started journaling, desperately writing down every little detail of our childhood before we turned fourteen. I never expected Serena to find it. And I certainly never expected her to expose it to them like this. I avoided Caleb and Asher's eyes. The sheer humiliation and despair made me shake even harder. My voice broke, sounding pathetic and weak: "...Give it back." "A stalker diary?" No one paid attention to me. Asher took the notebook from Caleb. His eyes scanned the pages rapidly before he nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "It really does look like one." The mockery in his tone was completely undisguised. "Give it back." The burn on my stomach throbbed. The shattered bones in my right hand pulsed so hard my vision blurred. I could only repeat those words like a broken record. "Why should we give it back? This concerns us too." Asher smiled at me. He still looked as gentle as ever. He tilted his head toward Caleb. "Right, Caleb?" Caleb avoided my gaze. He suddenly started laughing. "Yeah, it's pretty disgusting." He nodded, his smile fading into a deadpan glare. "It makes me extremely uncomfortable." I dug my nails into my palms, finally forcing down the tidal wave of suffocating emotion. "Give it back," I said, trying to make my voice sound less pathetic. "This has nothing to do with you." "How could it have nothing to do with us?" The worn, repeatedly read diary looked impossibly fragile in Asher's hands. He pulled out a silver lighter. His voice was whisper-soft: "Things that make people uncomfortable shouldn't exist." Before I could stop him, the flames licked the edges of the pages. I could only watch as the fire consumed my memories, before Asher casually tossed the burning book onto the concrete. Asher seemed curious to see how I would react. But a strange, heavy calmness suddenly washed over me. Much calmer than I thought I'd be. I stood there silently, watching the diary burn to ash, and then scatter in the wind. As if it had never existed at all. Nobody knew that my memories of the past had faded to almost nothing. Only that diary, the one I reread obsessively, could trigger the fading echoes of my childhood. But now, the last remaining tie between me and my past was severed. Completely clean. Including my pathetic delusions of saving them. And in that exact moment, I suddenly heard Serena's voice. She said: "System, why hasn't Asher's capture meter gone up? Has he still not completely given up on Sydney?" 8 Serena's lips hadn't moved, but the words echoed in my head as if she were whispering right in my ear. Asher and Caleb were just staring at me. They clearly couldn't hear the voice. Serena was still conversing with her so-called System. "Is your algorithm broken? Asher and Caleb literally crippled the female lead's hand for me. How is the capture not successful yet?" "And why is their lingering emotional attachment to her still so high?" "Fine, fine. I'll just keep working on it. The female lead's memories of them are almost totally wiped anyway. I'm so close." Her tone was utterly indifferent, like a player trying to force a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. Whether the puzzle was ruined in the process meant nothing to her. She just needed to complete her objective. I bit my lip so hard the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, but my mind had never been clearer. Serena was a "Player." And her capture targets were Asher. And probably Caleb. She called me the "female lead." That meant those prophetic dreams I had—the ones that made me foolishly try to "redeem" Caleb and Asher—were likely a byproduct of Serena's presence. Including my current amnesia. I thought I would be furious. But in reality, I just listened to her conversation with the System with absolute, chilling clarity. When Caleb impatiently barked, "Sydney, what kind of crazy act are you pulling now?", I suddenly looked up. I smiled at Caleb. My tone was lighter than it had been in years. I told them: "I'm sick." It had been a very long time since I said those words. Caleb froze. Serena, who had been chatting with her System, also stiffened. She rushed to speak first: "If you're sick, you should go to the hospital. What's the point of saying it here—" Realizing she sounded too aggressive and broke her gentle facade, she quickly forced an awkward smile and corrected herself: "Are you not feeling well? Do you want me to go to the hospital with you?" I ignored her. I just quietly looked at Caleb and Asher. Refusing to miss a single micro-expression on their faces. Looking at them this closely, I noticed the cracks. Asher maintained his icy facade, but his hands, resting at his sides, instinctively curled into tight fists. Caleb's emotional control was far worse. He subconsciously took two steps toward me, forced himself to stop, and then deployed his usual mockery: "If you're sick, go to a doctor. Stop acting like you're dying in front of us. What's the point?" "Sydney, don't tell me you think faking an illness is still going to work on us?" A long time ago, whenever I wanted to skip school or needed a favor from them, pretending to be sick was my go-to strategy. My acting was actually terrible. But back then, they would pretend to believe me, indulging my every whim. "What if it still works?" I didn't make a hurt, wounded expression like I used to. Instead, I shrugged, flashing them the brightest smile I could muster. My voice was light: "But I'm guessing you don't believe me anyway." Asher frowned deeply, sensing something fundamentally wrong. "That diary—" He seemed to realize something, abruptly stopping mid-sentence and staring at the ground by his feet. But the concrete was completely clean. The wind hadn't even left a smudge of ash. I kept smiling. My voice was incredibly soft: "It's okay. I'll forget about you guys soon anyway."
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