novelraw Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sounds outside the classroom faded, as if an invisible hand that had been squeezing Ye Shiyu's heart had finally loosened its grip.
Her breathing slowed. She lifted her gaze to Yan Huan's vacant eyes, and only then did reason reclaim the high ground in her mind, letting her realize what she had just done.
She glanced at the wrist he had grabbed earlier. A ring of red marred the fair, delicate skin—an imprint of his fingers that showed no sign of fading. The blood pulsing beneath the surface left a faint, tingling itch.
Ye Shiyu bruised easily. Her pale skin was like pristine canvas, eager to hold any color.
In the past, any trespass—physical contact or someone taking her belongings—had been unforgivable. Yet ever since Yan Huan arrived, exceptions kept appearing. Maybe it was the kindness he'd shown that night, or the smile on his face; whatever the reason, she had reined in her stinginess and wanted to give something back.
All she'd planned today was to ask for his help and casually find out what he liked. Instead—
She had hypnotized him again.
Sorry, Xiao Huan. Next time I definitely won't use hypnosis on you.
She made the promise to herself with a weight of guilt, half-saint, half-sinner.
And why only half a saint?
Because when she'd told him to act cute, she hadn't quite gotten her fill—so half a saint was the best she could claim.
"Xiao Huan, when I count to one, the hypnosis will lift. Three, two, one..."
She voiced the command in her mind, heart fluttering. The last time, she'd left the room before releasing him; she had no idea what face-to-face release would look like.
At her silent order, memories peeled away like a tide. Whether it was Sakuramiya Hitomi's Modifier or Ye Shiyu's, the sensation was the same: every memory of the last fifteen minutes slipped from the brain, replaced by a seamless forgery. Without a Modifier or an outside observer, the target would never notice the gap.
Yan Huan's vacant eyes slid shut. When they opened again, they held nothing but normal curiosity.
"Shiyu sis?"
"Let's keep fixing your computer."
Relief loosened Ye Shiyu's shoulders. She resumed her doll-like stillness, yet her gaze roamed over Yan Huan like a murderer revisiting the crime scene.
Yan Huan turned back to the laptop with a smile, thoughts churning.
A person who gets their hands on a Modifier doesn't jump straight to the endgame. That "skip-to-villainy" trope only happens in thirty-page self-published manga. Before anyone reaches the "I-don't-eat-beef" stage, they pass through "Be-Careful Superman" first.
Especially now, with Shiyu's fifteen-minute limit boxing her in.
But the escalation was faster than he'd expected. Sunday night he'd gone all-in, trying to trigger her guilt and curb her urge. Meow-chan had confirmed she'd dropped a Fragment—proof the plan worked. Yet here it was, Tuesday noon, and the secret was out again.
True, her first use today had been an accident, a desperate cover to save face. Still, afterward she'd given in to temptation and issued a string of commands—nothing extreme, yet each one a fresh spark rekindling the fire.
His earlier guilt-trip hadn't been useless; her repeated apologies showed that. The dosage, however, was simply too low.
For a patient like Shiyu, he needed to up the prescription.
Thus mused Dr. Yan—quack psychiatrist extraordinaire.
"Shiyu sis, just install Zhoujiao SafeGuard next week. If you're not tech-savvy, it's foolproof. Your security will be fine."
"Mm-hmm."
She didn't understand a word, only nodded, letting him work on her computer. She paid no mind to the mouse labeled with her name or the way his fingers danced across her keyboard.
Yan Huan, lost in strategy, forgot her odd quirks entirely. Planning his next move while pretending nothing had happened—those two tasks devoured RAM like a downloader virus in Shiyu's laptop.
And had someone outside just shouted Bai Yi's name? The idol who carried the Indifference Modifier.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
In the afternoon hush of the teaching building, an illusory clock dripped time like water droplets. Students streamed past the gate, none of them hearing a thing.
Among them stood a girl in ivory long sleeves and a black linen skirt, sunglasses hiding half her face. She hugged her arms, chewing strawberry bubble gum at the school entrance.
Bai Yi—Yuanyue's famous idol.
Even sunglasses couldn't dim her presence. Confidence, fashion, and beauty radiated from her like sunlight through stained glass, preaching the gospel of youth to every passer-by.
She blew a bubble, let it swell, then pop.
Pop.
Light makeup graced her face; a single coat of glossy pink tinted half her lips, shimmering like sugar glaze. Her mouth looked as sweet as the strawberry gum she chewed.
"Class at one p.m. is such a drag. Maybe I'll sneak out—after all, I've got this."
She drew a pocket watch from her coat.
Plain on the outside, but inside it gleamed with craftsmanship worthy of a museum. Phantom characters floated across the dial, lending it a fairy-tale aura.
[Unnamed]
Three hands lay on the face, none of them telling real time.
Though the hour neared one p.m., an icy hour hand still pointed straight at twelve, motionless for ages. The minute hand, rusted and worn, rested at nine o'clock. Above it hovered translucent text:
[Accumulated Usage Time: 30 min]
As for the second hand—nothing visible. Only a faint rotation at the base hinted at an unseen needle creeping forward.
When Bai Yi's mind brushed that invisible hand, information surged forth.
[Welcome to Unnamed Pocket Watch]
[Level: 1]
[Current Effect: Indifference]
[Each day, 10 minutes of invisibility. Unused minutes stack, max 60.]
[During effect, only you experience immediate consequences. To others, all your actions take effect the instant the duration ends.]
Verbose, but one try makes it clear.
While Indifference is active, if Bai Yi touches someone, she feels it at once. The other person? Nothing—until the timer stops. Every sensation crashes down in a single moment.
Objects behave similarly, though the watch's description conveniently omits that detail... or perhaps it wants her to experiment on people first.
Take the marker she'd used to prank Zhou Bin. After activation, the pen returned to its original spot—no fingerprints, ink level unchanged. Yet the doodles on Zhou Bin's face remained.
Judging by that alone, the power was nothing short of miraculous.
Ever since the pocket-watch had mysteriously appeared in Bai Yi's bag last Friday, it had become her favourite new toy.
With it she could do things she'd only dreamed about.
Zhou Bin, for example, was Victim Number One—he'd spent last semester tattling to her mother by phone. At noon today he'd still been plastered with bizarre religious charms; he was probably trembling in a corner right now.
Bai Yi smiled at the thought, then turned away from Yuanyue Academy under the cover of [Indifference]. She intended to cut the whole afternoon.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The world seemed sliced in two by the rhythmic dripping of a clock: Bai Yi on one side, everyone else on the other. Then the halves folded together into everything she could see.
She wandered into the commercial street outside the school gate, snatched a candied-haw skewer from a dessert shop, and bit into it savagely. Her agent monitored every calorie, terrified Bai Yi might sprout a pimple, and tried to tattoo "salad = life" onto her brain. Meanwhile the woman posted hot-pot photos on her own socials and left Bai Yi chewing kale juice.
Thinking about it made Bai Yi chew the haw even harder, as if she were gnawing off her agent's head.
"Haha, the President said I'm not the mascot, okay?"
"Really? President Yan actually told you that?"
"Of course. But you still have to be tough yourself! I'm just so smart that he couldn't help noticing."
"Haha..."
President... Yan Huan.
Bai Yi flicked her gaze toward the voices. Outside a milk-tea shop stood Yua Lina chatting with a cluster of senior girls. That annoying girl.
She looked away and prepared to leave before the ten-minute effect burned through the weekend-and-Monday time she'd saved. Bai Yi was a natural-born hoarder.
Yet her peripheral vision snagged on a notice board near the gate. Beneath the student-council logo were member profiles.
"Yan Huan, Student-Council President. With outstanding grades and absolute approachability he won the student body's favour last autumn..."
Bai Yi's chewing slowed. Just looking at Yan Huan's photo on the board made her face twist in disgust.
"Tch."
The candied haw lost its flavour, but she couldn't bring herself to throw it away, so she carried the stick off campus.
Evening. A high-end villa in Jinghe District.
Bai Yi pressed her thumb to the lock and stepped inside. The extractor fan whirred in the kitchen—her mother must be cooking. She kicked off her shoes, yanked off her bucket hat, sunglasses and mask and tossed them into the basket.
"I'm home."
"How was school?"
The reply came, unexpectedly, from the living room rather than the kitchen.
Bai Yi paused, smoothed her ruffled black hair, and wandered in.
"Same as always. Just an elective."
A middle-aged woman in grey loungewear sat on the sofa watching her—Bai Yi's mother, Zuo Jiangqin.
"You're lying," her mother said. "I sent Ji Lin to pick you up this afternoon. She never saw you leave."
Ji Lin—Bai Yi's agent.
Bai Yi's hand froze on the doorknob. She frowned, turning back.
"I told you I'd come home myself."
"You didn't go to school at all, did you?"
"So?"
Bai Yi drew a long breath, walked into the living room and dropped onto the sofa opposite her mother.
"It's only an elective. Skipping one doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter?" Her mother's voice rose. She shoved her phone under Bai Yi's nose. "Your student council emailed me this morning. Out of 500 possible points you scored 292. Rank 152 out of 178. Are you trying to humiliate us? If your fans find out you're this hopeless at school the internet will explode."
"Let them talk. I'm booked solid with events—I've hardly attended any classes. What did you expect?"
"Hardly any classes? Then why skip this afternoon too? You're just lazy."
"Mom, stop lecturing me when you can't even tell required courses from electives."
They were talking past each other. Bai Yi waved irritably.
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
She started walking away, but her mother's sharp voice halted her.
"Come back here! You look like a mess every day. Ji Lin says you drag your feet at events and mope around school. What exactly do you want?"
Events—those lousy events they kept shoving at her.
They wouldn't let her write her own songs—"too slow for the Yan-fan market"—and now she was living on salad while her agent feasted.
Her mother was just as bad, jumping at every commercial offer Ji Lin waved under her nose, while Bai Yi ran herself ragged.
A thousand retorts rose in her throat, but Bai Yi swallowed them. She simply let her pretty face fall and turned again toward her room.
"Wait—eat the salad on the table!"
Bai Yi ignored her, hand already on the doorknob.
Her mother didn't look up; they both knew the drill.
But today the email with her scores had set Zuo Jiangqin off. She sighed dramatically.
"Look at that Yan Huan from your student council—top grades every time, and he's the president. And don't forget, he was at the same child-star audition as you back then."
Bai Yi's foot paused on the threshold.
Her mother barrelled on, oblivious to the white-knuckled fist hidden in Bai Yi's sleeve.
"He smiled once and the station executives begged him to sign. He turned them down flat. We had to work our tails off—writing songs, practising instruments—just to get a spot."
"And you still slack off? He has choices; we don't. We have to grab every chance. Since we spent money to get you into Yuanyue, the least you can do is study hard so Ji Lin can sell your 'good-student' image. Are you listening?"
Bai Yi turned slowly, her face cold.
"Since you like him so much, Mom, why not adopt him as your son?"
"You—"
Bang.
Bai Yi slammed the door before her mother could finish.
"That child..."
Zuo Jiangqin frowned, arms crossed, seething with disappointment.
The house fell silent. No guitar chords drifted from Bai Yi's room as they usually did.
Eventually Zuo Jiangqin admitted, reluctantly, that perhaps she'd been too harsh.
But wasn't it only because Bai Yi wouldn't take work seriously and slacked off at school?
She had only meant to hold up Yan Huan as a rival to light a fire under her daughter.
After all, back at the company audition that boy's looks had been unforgettable. And at Yuanyue his popularity and grades were off the charts...
Beep-beep-beep—
The kitchen timer shrilled.
Her soup was ready.
Zuo Jiangqin sighed and stepped into the kitchen, turned off the burner, then ladled out a bowl of pork-rib broth.
Carrying the soup, she returned to the living room, scooped up the salad from the table, and walked to Bai Yi's door.
Knock-knock-knock.
"Dinner's ready."
It was her peace offering.
Minutes stretched by; no answer came from inside.
Zuo Jiangqin felt the anger she'd just managed to swallow start to bubble up again. She set the soup and salad on the table, marched back, and reached for the doorknob.
"I said dinner. Did you hear me?"
But when she pushed the door open, the bedroom—guitars, sheet music, computer, and gaming console all in their places—stood empty.
"Yiyi?"
She froze, calling her daughter's childhood name in a voice tight with sudden fear.
Only silence answered. Outside the ground-floor window, the wind caught the curtain and sent it dancing—a ghostly reply that fluttered and fell still.