I suddenly started seeing numbers floating above the heads of everyone at my elite prep school. My fiancé, who treats me like I’m invisible? [99] My cold, aloof lab partner, the Campus King? [99+] As the designated "Villainess" of this story, I have plenty of self-awareness. Those numbers are definitely hate scores. That is, until the delicate "White Lotus" Heroine discovered I was secretly funding her tuition. The number above her head instantly exploded into a bright red [100+]. At the same time, a barrage of livestream comments—like a Twitch chat—detonated in front of my eyes. [Omg Wifey! She’s so good, so cute. Her skin is so pale, if you bit her it would stay red for hours, right?] [LMAO, our baby girl really thinks her fiancé likes the Heroine? That man has been down bad for Wifey since day one. Just touch his face, watch him melt.] I couldn't believe it. I reached out and gently poked my fiancé’s cheek. The next second, the guy who usually has a temper like a stick of dynamite suddenly went silent. The number above his head glitched out like crazy. It finally settled on [∞]. [Hehe, Wifey knows what that symbol means, right? My love for you is infinite...] 1 When the numbers first appeared, I was begging Julian, the school’s golden boy, to tutor me. Even though this is a private prep school for the 1%, the academic pressure is insane. Most kids have been building their Ivy League portfolios since freshman year. If they’re staying stateside, they’re already doing college-level work. And then there’s me. The daughter of a "New Money" tycoon. My dad used his checkbook to brute-force my way in. I’m constantly drowning in coursework. I’m not exactly a genius, so I had to beg Julian—wealthy, brilliant, and untouchable—for help. Julian was in the middle of reading some obscure foreign medical journal. He frowned, his long, pianist fingers taking my tragic exam paper. He started explaining from the very first multiple-choice question. I was zoning out, listening to the whispers in the classroom. I couldn't hear the exact words, but I knew they were roasting me. Julian’s dad is the Mayor. His grandpa is some retired D.C. bigshot. His mom owns a massive pharmaceutical empire. Julian himself already has patents pending. Nobody dares to disturb him when he’s reading. Except me, the tacky rich girl with nothing but money. I didn't want to bother him. I actually tried to hire a few scholarship students to tutor me. I offered to pay for their tuition, living expenses, textbooks, and even nutrition supplements. All I asked was for them to explain a few math problems when they were free. My dad might be uneducated, but he respects smart people. He’s obsessed with my grades. But somehow, my private offer got leaked. The school Discord server tore me apart. Hundreds of messages. They said I had zero self-awareness, clinging to Julian. When he ignored me, I tried to buy the scholarship kids. The other rich kids called me condescending. "Who wants her charity? We all have money." So, publicly, I announced I stopped the funding. But privately? I was still secretly sponsoring one girl who was in the same grade as me. 2 The noise in the classroom got louder. I felt eyes burning holes in my back. It felt like a physical heat. My neck prickled. My ears turned hot. Does everyone love Julian that much? I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust from the stares. Afraid of getting roasted online again, I hesitated. "Julian, maybe I should just study by myself..." I’d ask him later when fewer people were around. But the second I spoke, a bright [98] popped up over his head. I rubbed my eyes. "Julian, there’s a number on your head." "If you don't want to listen, just leave. Don't make excuses," Julian snapped, running a hand through his hair, revealing his perfect forehead. His side profile was sharp, nose straight—literally a masterpiece. "No, it's not that I don't want to listen, it's just..." I grabbed his hand in a panic. I wanted to tell him I needed this. He’s the only one who explains things simply enough for my smooth brain to grasp. But his face flushed red, and he shook my hand off. His wet, puppy-dog eyes glared at me in disbelief. The number above his head flickered between [98-99]. "If you want someone else to teach you, then stop messing with me." Am I that scary? I looked around. Everyone had numbers. 50, 82, 95... I went silent. I took a deep breath and awkwardly let go of Julian’s wrist. Okay, so the numbers represent Hate. Makes sense. Nobody here really likes me. I pouted. My mood tanked. Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the crowd. Chase was surrounded by his entourage. He was leaning back in his chair, uniform tie loose, looking like he didn't care about anything. I let out a breath. Good, my "fiancé" didn't see me. After my dad hit the jackpot, he somehow connected with the ultra-elite Sterling family. Chase Sterling. His name sounds preppy, but his personality is pure phosphorus—highly flammable and toxic. I know he looks down on me. He usually ignores me completely. When I first transferred here, I was eating instant noodles in the stairwell when I heard him talking. "Chase, I heard your fiancée, Winnie, transferred in. Want me to look out for her?" a guy asked. Through the crack in the door, I saw Chase leaning against the railing. His voice was deep, magnetic, and dripping with impatience. "Look out for what? Her dad put you next to her because he’s afraid she’s too dumb for the curriculum. She’s so high-maintenance." "If I drove my car over 60 she’d probably cry. I’m gonna wreck this engagement sooner or later." "If you want to babysit her, you can have her." Excuse me? I was fuming. I leaned too close to the door. Creak. I stumbled out, crashing right into Chase’s line of sight. He had a cigarette between his lips, looking arrogant as hell. But when he saw me, he froze. I turned and ran. Behind me, someone laughed. "Who was that?" "Your fiancée, Mr. Sterling." "Oh." Chase held the cigarette until it burned his fingers. He flinched and tossed it in the trash. "I’m quitting." She looked so small. Soft and pale. If we kissed, would the smoke make her cough? ... Thinking about the trash he talked back then made me angry all over again. Dad said to wait a bit on the engagement. So, I kept my distance. Chase seemed bored until Claire transferred into our class. Suddenly, he was energized. She was the only girl he’d talk to. Right now, he had a [98] over his head as he glanced at me from across the room. His tongue pressed against his cheek, a sharp canine tooth flashing. I shivered. So scary. If he hates the engagement, why hasn't he canceled it? Does he want to torture me first? ... "Stop looking at her. Or I'll gouge your eyes out." Chase stared blankly at the girl in front of him. Her clothes were faded, but her vibe was clean and sharp. It was just her eyes—always looking at things she couldn't have. "What's wrong with looking?" Claire looked down at her worn-out sneakers, her tone light. "You're jealous, aren't you? She won't even look at you, but she’s secretly sponsoring me. She texts me encouraging messages every night." Chase thought about how Winnie sent Claire cute photos of her day. Meanwhile, Chase had been posting on his story for a year about being "lonely" and wanting a travel buddy. Winnie never liked a single post. She probably had him muted. He wanted to scream. 3 During the long break, I ran into Claire outside the bathroom again. She was washing her hands, head down. Long lashes, gentle almond eyes, loose strands of hair. She looked perfect. Almost too perfect. Like she was posing. Ever since she transferred to our class, I run into her every time I go to the bathroom. Once or twice is a coincidence. Every time? Is she blocking me? Because of Chase? I pressed my lips together and summoned my courage to stand next to her. Claire kept washing. Her movements got stiff. I washed faster. When she finished, she stood there, texting on her old phone. She sent a text. Ding. My phone buzzed in my pocket. She sent another. Ding. My face burned. Does she know? Claire transferred a year ago. She was one of the scholarship kids I targeted. Later, I set up an anonymous scholarship fund for the group, but I sponsored Claire directly. Her family situation was awful. She had a brother, and her parents treated her like dirt. I was terrified she’d drop out. Looking at the [98] hate score above her head... I wanted to pretend nothing was happening. Being sponsored by your love rival hurts your pride, right? I couldn't ruin her focus. But then, Claire called my personal number. The one I gave her for "emergencies only." She’d never used it before. My ringtone blasted through the silence. My scalp tingled. I felt Claire’s gaze burning into me. "Winnie, your phone is ringing. Aren't you going to answer?" she asked, her voice thoughtful. I couldn't hide anymore. I took out my phone with shaking hands. The moment I answered, the number above Claire’s head went berserk. [99]... [100]... [100+] [DING! Villainess System Online. Mission Activated: Please execute the bullying of the Heroine immediately!] Huh? My eyes widened. I hung up. The Villainess System explained that the numbers represent the intensity of the characters' feelings toward me. The higher the excitement, the higher the number. As the villainess, I have to drive the plot. If I complete the missions, I get a "Clearance Gift Pack." I asked weakly, [What happens if I don't?] The System was ruthless: [Then the host receives the Death Gift Pack. Car crash? Cancer? Jumping off a building? It’s a random draw!] I clenched my tiny fist. I stood on my tiptoes and summoned all my strength to grab the Heroine by the collar. "Don't leave after school... You stay... and h-help me... with my homework!" Since I offended Julian, and Claire is smart, maybe she can tutor me? "Meet me after school" was the most villainous line I could think of. TV dramas always use it. But I’m barely 5'1". Claire is 5'7". She towered over me. She stared at me, eyes calm, lashes fluttering. I panicked. I remembered the rumors. Even though Claire is a scholarship student at the bottom of the social food chain, the rich bullies leave her alone. Why? Because she’s a genius in the lab. Even the TAs respect her. And physically? She destroys people in P.E. She dominates every sport. I stared at her lean, muscular arms. She could probably fold me like a lawn chair. So, to boost my courage, I leaned in closer. Close enough to smell the lemon soap on her collar. Her eyes were amber? Wow. Main character energy. Even her pupils are pretty. Claire blinked. Her breathing slowed down. She whispered. "Okay. I'll stay." She seemed intimidated by my aura. She couldn't even look me in the eye. Even the number on her head flickered in fear. I went to let go, but the bathroom door swung open. A girl walked in, saw us, and froze. She covered her face. "Sorry to interrupt!" Then she ran away, giggling manically. The System praised me: [The Heroine's emotions are turbulent! Great start, Host!] I nodded proudly. That night, the school forum exploded. [BREAKING NEWS: Winnie from Class A was caught cornering Goddess Claire in the bathroom requesting a KISS?!] [OMG. Where are her morals? Where is the dignity? WHERE IS THE VIDEO LINK?!] Eh? I was confused. I thought I was playing the villain. Why do they think I’m a pervert? 4 With Claire tutoring me, my grades actually improved. She broke everything down step-by-step. It was way better than Julian’s abstract genius method. I finally enjoyed studying. After midterms, the System issued a new mission. [You are a Villainess! Why are you studying so hard? You should be punching the Heroine and stepping on rivals! Steal all the men!] It said the plot required the Heroine to be bullied so badly that the Second Male Lead (Julian) would pity her. His pity would make me jealous, leading me to force Julian to date me, isolating the Heroine further. I couldn't imagine Claire crying and looking at the sky. She’d probably just dunk on someone and tell them to get lost. But the System said the core task was simple: [Date the Second Male Lead!] [Complete Phase 2 to unlock the Livestream Chat. The audience will drop plot hints!] I nodded. I’m rich, but I have no friends. I was a slow kid. I used to buy snacks for everyone to make them like me. They’d eat my snacks and call me "stupid cash cow" behind my back. Dad transferred me here hoping for better peers. Instead, they just called me "New Money trash." I asked the System seriously, "Will the audience like me? Can I make friends?" The System looked at my small face and big eyes. [Guaranteed. If anyone roasts you, I’ll hack their account.]
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "387325", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel