"Anna, I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself… I thought you would be happy." Blake's eyes were red-rimmed as he reached out to grab me. "Don't go. Let's talk about this, alright?"

If this were before, I probably would've melted on the spot. But now, all I could think of was how he'd told Anson he would break my limbs and lock me up.

I took a step back, dodging his hand. I heard myself say airily, "It's not your fault. I'm just done."

"Done?" Blake's lashes trembled, as if he genuinely couldn't understand what that meant. "You don't love me anymore?"

Under the streetlight, I saw the broken look in his eyes. His acting was so convincing he could've won an award.

A comment floated past.

[To be fair, Blake wasn't completely faking it these past years… This kind of hurts.]

That reminded me of something. I lifted my head and looked straight into Blake's eyes. "Blake, over the past six years, was there even one second that you truly felt happy?"

His eyes widened just a fraction. He didn't answer, but the comments exploded.

[Did she find out the truth?]

[Holy shit! One high-intensity scene, coming right up!]

[Blake, why are you just standing there? Start lying!]

The wind was freezing. I tightened my grip on my suitcase and walked away, disappearing into the night. No footsteps followed.

Only the countdown in my head ticked clearly. 9 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes. The game wasn't over yet, but this player no longer felt like following the rules.

I hailed a cab and got in, slumping against the window. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking, but it wasn't from fear. It was from excitement.

So this was what it felt like to drop a six-year act. It was like I was finally able to breathe.

The countdown flickered coldly in front of my eyes. 9 days, 23 hours, 10 minutes.

I had less than ten days to live, and it was all because of someone who would never love me. What a joke.

"Miss, where to?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I rattled off the address to my old favorite cafe by the river. Blake said it was "too noisy and messy" and had stopped me from going there.

Comments drifted across my vision.

[Where is she going? Shouldn't she be running for her life?]

[That look in Blake's eyes when she left was terrifying…]

[Am I the only one who thinks she looks really good in that red dress?]

Outside the window, the city's neon lights streaked backward.

For six years, it was like I'd been living in a glass dome, seeing everything through Blake's filter. Now, the glass had shattered. The wind rushed in, carrying the smoky smell of late-night food stands, the damp river breeze, and strangers' laughter and small talk.

It was so real that it made me want to cry.

The cafe was still in its old spot. When I pushed the door open, the bell over the door chimed.

The owner, a middle-aged man with a graying beard, was taken aback when he saw me. "Joanna?"

"Hi, Eddie. Long time no see," I said.

"It really is you!" Eddie Calhan wiped his hands and came out from behind the counter. "What's it been, five, six years? You used to love that window seat. One latte and you'd be there all afternoon working on assignments…"

Only then did I remember that before meeting Blake, I used to come here to do my assignments. Back then, I was a student at a film academy with dreams of winning Best Actress. I used to fill the margins of my scripts with notes.

And after that?

After that, Blake had said, "Acting is too hard. I'll take care of you. The entertainment industry is a mess. It's not good for you. Anna, you've got me. That's enough."

And I'd actually believed him. I'd given up auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams in a drawer, and handed him the key.

"Your usual?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah." I paused. "And a slice of tiramisu."

I used to never dare order it. Blake said I "put on weight too easily and that it won't look good on camera".

But now, I only had ten days left. Who cared if I put on a little weight?

The window seat was empty. I sat down, enjoying the river breeze on my face. Across the water, city lights shimmered on the surface, breaking into a rippling field of gold.

The first bite of tiramisu melted on my tongue. Sweet, cloying cream collided with the bitter kick of coffee liqueur. I close my eyes.

Damn, this was good. So this was what it felt like to truly be alive.

The comments went quiet for a moment before slowly appearing again.

[She's eating so seriously…]

[Why do I feel oddly sad watching this?]

[She only has ten days to live. If I were her, I'd want one last good meal, too.]

[But seriously, is Blake really just going to let her run around like this? I don't believe that.]

I didn't believe it, either. So when my phone buzzed and Blake's name flashed on the screen, I wasn't surprised at all. I picked up but didn't say anything.

"Anna, where did you go? I'm really worried about you." His voice carried a trace of exhaustion.

"I'm eating."

"Come home, Anna." His tone softened. "We both need to cool down, so I promise I won't bother you tonight. You can take the guest room, and we can sit down and really talk tomorrow. How about that?"

It was such a familiar script.

For six years, each time I got upset, this was how it went. Blake would gently and patiently coax me step by step back into the cage. Then, everything would go back to the way it was.

"Blake." I stared out at the river. "Do you remember my senior thesis performance in college?"

He went quiet for a moment. "Why are you bringing that up now?"

"I played a woman who was locked up. In the end, she burned the whole house down… and herself with it." I dug my spoon into the cake. "Back then, you said I was too extreme in the act and that no one in real life would be that stupid. But I get it now. She wasn't stupid. It was just that the fire was all she had left."

Blake's breathing grew heavier on the other end of the line. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying…" I finished the last bite of cake. "For the next ten days, I'm going to live my own life. Don't look for me, and don't bother me. Don't use my family to threaten me. If I'm still alive in ten days…"

I laughed. "We can go back to playing your game."

…

I checked into the most expensive presidential suite in the city, swiping the supplementary card Blake had given me.

Onscreen, the comments kept coming.

[The presidential suite? She really knows how to enjoy herself.]

[Using Blake's money to stay in such an expensive hotel. This is iconic.]

[She's only got ten days. Let her splurge.]

I dropped my suitcase by the entryway and sank into the bathtub filled with rose petals. The countdown pulsed in my head. 8 days, 14 hours, 32 minutes.

I had eight and a half days to go.

My phone was eerily silent. Blake didn't call me again, which, honestly, wasn't like him.

Later that night, as I lay on the huge bed, I read the comments.

[Is she really just going to sleep? She's got nerves of steel.]

[What's Blake doing? Looks like he's tracing her phone location.]

[Honestly, this feeling of being watched at all times is smothering.]

I was just drifting off when I heard a brutal kick against the door. I jolted upright.

The chat exploded.

[What the heck was that?]

[Someone's breaking in!]

[Is it Blake?]

[I'm freaking out right now!]

Before I could react, the door slammed open with a heavy bang. Blake stood in the doorway, his bloodshot eyes burning like he was beyond furious.

"Joanna Yarrow." His voice was hoarse as he took one deliberate step after another toward me. I instinctively clutched the collar of my bathrobe.

He stopped in front of me, his shadow completely swallowing me up. "Where's Keira?"

I was taken aback. "What?"

"Drop the act." He seized my wrist in a crushing grip, making pain shoot through me. "Where did you take Keira? Answer me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about—"I tried to pull away, but he only tightened his hold.

The comments exploded.

[What the hell? Did Keira get kidnapped?]

[Did Joanna do it? No way. She's been at the hotel this whole time.]

[The timeline doesn't match. When would she have had time to arrange a kidnapping?]

[Blake's lost his mind, hasn't he?]

"Blake, let go of me!" I gasped as pain shot up my arm. "I haven't even seen Keira! These past two days, I've been—"

"I really underestimated you, Joanna. You acted all heartbroken and devastated, then you went and had Keira kidnapped. You're really something else," he snarled.

"I didn't," I ground out.

Blake flung me hard onto the bed, then leaned over me, caging my head between his arms. "This is your last chance. Where is Keira? What did you do to her?"

His breath hit my face, laced with a rage so wild it was almost feral. In six years, I'd never seen him like this.

The comments started splitting into sides.

[Blake is terrifying…]

[But if Joanna really did kidnap Keira, then she kinda deserves this, right?]

[Open your eyes, people! When would she have had time to do it?]

[Could this be a misunderstanding?]

"I told you, I don't know where she is. Look at me, Blake. Have I ever lied to you in the last six years?" I asked.

Blake's eyes widened. For a second, he wavered.

"Keira's phone signal disappeared…" He stared into my eyes, his gaze as sharp as a poisoned blade. "…at the cafe you went to."

A chill swept through me. This was a trap. Someone had set me up.

My voice started to shake. "It wasn't me. I didn't—"

"Enough!" Blake suddenly straightened, pulling a folding knife from his pocket. Then, he grabbed my hand and pressed the blade against my wrist.

"Joanna Yarrow." His voice was so low that it was almost inhuman. "I know you hate Keira for taking me away from you, even though I was never yours to begin with. But you don't get to touch her. I'll ask you one last time. Where is she?"

The blade bit into the skin of my wrist. Bright red blood welled up instantly. Pain shot through my entire body like a live wire, and my vision blurred. Darkness crept in at the edges.

The comments went berserk.

[Blake has seriously lost it!]

[I'm starting to pity Joanna… She really looks like she has no idea what's going on.]

[Say something, Joanna! Lie if you have to! Just say something!]

I parted my lips, but all that came out was a broken rasp. "I… didn't…"

Scarlet blood spread across the clean white sheets. Blake's grip on my wrist was like an unrelenting vice. The blade dug into my skin; every pump of my heart made pain rip through me.

"One last time." His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "Where is Keira?"

I parted my lips again, but no sound came out. My vision was going dark; all I could make out was the tight line of Blake's jaw and the crazed red in his eyes.

The comments flooded in like a tidal wave.

[She's about to pass out…]

[Blake, let her go! She's actually going to die!]

[Can someone call the cops? This totally counts as aggravated assault!]

[Where's the system? How is this level of violence still allowed?]

The system stayed silent.

Of course. In a romance strategy game, the female side character's life was never a priority. I was just an NPC, a disposable obstacle on the main couple's road to true love. I was the evil backdrop to show how kind the female lead was.

But I could feel pain. Real, searing pain.

"You won't talk, huh?" Blake pressed down even harder.

I heard the soft, sick sound of skin splitting, followed by a fresh, hot rush of blood. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, like static on an old TV that just lost its signal.

Just when I thought I might actually die like this, Blake's phone rang. The moment he saw the caller ID, his eyes widened. He answered almost immediately. "Keira?"