So that was it.

My mother was Oliver’s cherished memory, while Dennis’s mother remained the forsaken regret he could never release.

He wasn’t a saint—he was a vengeful demon.

Every kindness he’d shown me was just poison wrapped in honey.

A deep chill settled into my bones, turning my hands and feet to ice.

*Knock, knock.*

A familiar, gentle voice came from the other side of the door, one that now sent shivers down my spine. “Bruce, are you awake? Come down for breakfast.”

I nearly stumbled in my rush to answer it.

Outside stood Dennis in a sharply tailored gray suit, his eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses as deep as the sea, a faint smile resting on his lips.

Seeing me disheveled—clothes rumpled, hair a mess—he reached out naturally to straighten my collar.

I flinched back.

His hand froze mid-air, a flicker of coldness passing behind his lenses.

**[Target: Dennis. Favorability -1.]**

**[Current Favorability: -100.]**

**[Emotional Analysis: Extreme Disgust.]**

That glaring “-100” flashed before my eyes. An invisible fist closed around my heart, squeezing until I could barely breathe.

He withdrew his hand, his smile unchanged, his tone still gentle. “What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well?”

My mouth opened, but my throat was too dry for sound. All I could do was shake my head frantically.

“Hurry and get ready. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He spoke with casual ease, then turned and descended the stairs.

Leaning against the doorframe, I felt my back soaked with cold sweat.

I finally understood: this house I’d lived in for eight years wasn’t a warm harbor. It was a gilded cage, meticulously crafted just for me.

And Dennis was the elegant butcher holding the key.

Armed with the truth, every move I made became cautious.

I no longer dared to act out recklessly. Instead, I started trying to please him.

When he returned from long meetings, I’d greet him at the door with his slippers.

Knowing his stomach was sensitive, I learned to make nourishing soups.

I even picked up the financial magazines he read, though the complex graphs and jargon made my head spin.

I thought that if I became obedient and sensible—if I stopped being a hopeless mess—he might… just might… change his opinion of me.

But reality slapped me hard.

When I handed him his slippers, he’d smile and take them, only to set them aside and pull another pair from the closet.

The soup I made? He’d take a small sip in front of me, praise me with a “Our Bruce is growing up,” and pour the rest down the drain the moment I turned away.

**[Target: Dennis. Favorability -1.]**

**[Current Favorability: -101.]**

**[Emotional Analysis: Extreme Disgust.]**

Staring at that brutal number, despair washed over me like a tidal wave.

Why?

Why did my efforts only deepen his disgust?

**[Because in Dennis’s plan, the host should remain a complete and utter waste.]**

The system’s voice was merciless. **[Any sign of you “improving” deviates from his control. It irritates him. It makes him wary.]**

I understood.

In his eyes, I didn’t even have the right to become better.

I had to live—and die—as the “waste” he’d designed, until he had drained me of my last shred of value, and only then would I be disposed of.

I gave up completely, reverting to the lawless young master I used to be.

I started spending more lavishly than ever, dropping a million in a single night at the clubs.

I gathered my old “friends” for a wild pool party at the mansion, turning the place upside down.

Dennis didn’t stop me. He just stood in the wreckage of the living room after the party, watching me with a calm, unreadable gaze.

His stare unnerved me. I puffed out my chest, defiant. “What are you looking at? Spent your money, so you’re upset?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over, reached out, and wiped a smudge of cream from the corner of my mouth.

His fingertips were cold. The touch was fleeting, but it raised goosebumps all over my skin.

"Get some rest." With that, he went upstairs.

**[Current Favorability: -101.]**

The System's prompt echoed. At least the favorability rating hadn’t dropped further.

Laughing until tears streamed down my face, I collapsed on the sofa.

Only when I played the hopeless, worthless waste of space could I barely hold onto the bottom line of his favorability.

How pathetic.

"Bruce, you and Dennis just now... everything okay?" Jeffrey, my best friend, sidled over, concern etched on his face.

Seeing his sincere expression, a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest.

In this ice-cold house, he was the only one I could truly confide in.

**[Friendly Reminder: Scanning target, Jeffrey.]**

**[Current Favorability: -50.]**

**[Emotional Analysis: Disdain, Exploitation.]**

**[Character Background: Jeffrey was bought off by Dennis three years ago. He is responsible for guiding and encouraging the Host to engage in various outlandish behaviors and regularly reports the Host's activities to Dennis.]**

My smile froze.

My best friend... another of Dennis's planted informants.

As Jeffrey chattered on with his "concern," a wave of nausea washed over me.

It turned out that not a single person around me had ever been genuine.

I was a complete and utter joke.

That night, locked in my room, I asked the System earnestly for the first time, "Is there any way out for me?"

**[Yes.]**

The System's answer kindled a sliver of hope.

**[Based on data projections, three months from now, Dennis will go skiing in the Northern Snow Peaks, where he will encounter a minor avalanche.]**

**[Mission Issued: Host is to rescue Dennis during the avalanche.]**

**[Mission Reward: Upon completion, the Host may choose to leave this world. The System will erase all traces of your existence and open a brand new life for you in a parallel world.]**

Leave this world?

I was stunned.

In other words, if I saved him, I could break free from Dennis forever—escape this suffocating life and start over somewhere no one knew me.

"Alright," I heard myself say, my voice trembling. "I'll take it."

To survive, for a chance at freedom, I’d brave more than an avalanche; I’d walk through the very gates of hell.

From that day on, I began preparing for the journey to the Northern Snow Peaks three months later.

Secretly, I enrolled in professional mountaineering and wilderness survival courses, pushing through grueling daily training. In just three short months, that pampered heir who couldn't lift a finger was reborn.

Dennis seemed to notice the change, but wrote it off as an obsession with extreme sports, paying it little mind.

He even hesitated—then agreed—when I suggested we go skiing together at the Northern Snow Peaks.

On the day of departure, I stood before the full-length mirror, staring at the stranger looking back: skin tanned a deep honey, eyes sharp with resolve.

"Bruce." Dennis’s voice came from the doorway.

I turned. There he stood in black ski gear, the sleek lines making him look taller, more imposing.

He studied me, a slight frown creasing his brow. "You seem different somehow."

My heart clenched. I forced a smile. "Really? Must be all that time I've spent running wild outside."

He said nothing more, just walked over and, as usual, zipped up my jacket for me.

This time, I didn't pull away.

Tilting my head back, I looked up at his handsome face so close to mine, only one thought echoing in my mind: *Dennis, this is the last time I'll save you. The only time.*

After this, we’ll be even.

The Northern Snow Peaks stretched before us—a breathtaking sweep of silver and white, beautiful and deadly.

Besides the two of us, our group included a few of Dennis’s friends. Among them, Ryan was cheerful, the only one who ever really talked to me.

On the ski lift, Ryan grinned over. "Bruce, first time on a professional slope like this? Nervous?"

I shook my head, but my gaze drifted past him to Dennis sitting across from us.

He was polishing his ski goggles, his profile sharp and flawless.

He seemed to sense my stare and looked up. Our eyes met through the thin veil of mist.

I quickly glanced away, my heart hammering.

**[System Warning: Avalanche predicted in forty-three minutes in Zone C-3. Host, prepare yourself.]**

Zone C-3. The very advanced run we were headed toward.

As we stepped off the lift, a biting wind whipped snow into our faces.

Dennis adjusted my wind mask, his voice muffled by the gale. "Stay close. Don't wander off."

I nodded, tightening my grip on my ski poles.

Everything unfolded exactly as the System predicted.

Dennis was a natural, carving elegant arcs down the slope like a black hawk in flight.

Pushing myself to the limit, I clung to his trail.

Skiers thinned out around us. Wind and snow grew fiercer.

**[Countdown: Ten, nine, eight…]**

My heart hammered in my throat.

**[Three, two, one!]**

The moment the System fell silent, a violent tremor shuddered through the snow beneath my feet—followed by a thunderous roar echoing from the distant peak.

"Avalanche!" someone screamed.