The hotpot stand sat at the corner of a busy street, smoke curling upward in lazy spirals, carrying the rich scent of chili oil, garlic, and simmering broth.
The place was nothing fancy—plastic tables, mismatched stools, a large steel pot bubbling at the center of each table. The vendor, a middle-aged man with rolled-up sleeves and a permanently reddened face from years of heat, shouted orders while his wife handled bowls and change with lightning speed.
Normally, it was just another noisy, crowded street stall.
But today—
A Rolls-Royce was parked right beside it.
The contrast was absurd.
People slowed their steps. Some outright stopped. A few bold ones circled the car like curious cats, fingers itching to touch the glossy black surface. Someone actually reached out—
"Hey! Step back."
The driver immediately got out, positioning himself firmly in front of the car, posture straight, eyes sharp. Just that alone made several people retreat awkwardly.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Are they shooting a movie?"
"No way, this is real."
"Who owns it?"
"A celebrity?"
"A rich kid?"
"A man looking for his mistress"
Because of the car, the stall suddenly became packed. People ordered food they didn't even want just to sit nearby. Phones were raised discreetly.
Some customers pretended to eat while sneaking glances at the car, at the driver, at the girl sitting calmly with a steaming bowl of hotpot in front of her.
Ria didn't notice any of it.
She stirred the broth slowly, eyes unfocused.
Why is he here?
No… he can't be him, right?
Her chopsticks paused midair.
I have to check.
Yes. I need to recheck she ate all her food quickly.
Then She stood up abruptly.
As she walked toward the car, a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.
"Hey—where do you think you're going?" a man scoffed loudly. "Do you know what kind of car that is? A new-model Rolls-Royce. If you scratch it, can you afford it?"
Another voice chimed in, sharp and judgmental.
"Tsk. Girls like her should be in school instead of wandering around. Probably trying to seduce the owner."
Ria glanced down at herself.
School uniform.
Diamond bracelet.
Diamond watch.
She said nothing.
Someone else whispered loudly, "Isn't that the uniform from St. Alderwyn's Ashford Meridian Collegiate? Only students from there wear that."
All eyes turned to her.
Phones came out again.
Ria clicked her tongue and pushed forward.
The man grabbed her wrist again. "Hey, are you crazy? If you're looking for a sugar daddy, I can—"
She kicked him.
Clean. Fast. No hesitation.
He staggered back with a yelp. The crowd froze.
Ria scream loudly as some tries to speak shocking everyone they wonder if she was crazy
She then alked forward.
The driver immediately bowed and opened the car door for her.
That single action shattered whatever doubt remained.
Ria turned around slowly.
She lifted her phone and calmly snapped photos of every person recording her.
"I'll remember your faces," she said lightly. "If any of these videos appear online, just wait and see how your future ends."
Her tone was soft.
Too soft.
One by one, phones disappeared. Videos were deleted on the spot. No one wanted to gamble with someone who could casually step out of a customized Rolls-Royce—one of only ten in the entire country.
Ria entered the car.
"Drive back to Crown Side Public School," she said. "Not too close to the gate."
The driver nodded and complied.
Minutes later, the car stopped near the back of the school compound.
Ria slipped off her shoes.
Without hesitation, she threw them over the wall.
Then she climbed.
Quick. Light. Practiced.
She perched at the top—one leg on each side of the wall—and looked down.
And froze.
Matthew stood below her.
One of her shoes lay in his hand.
The other had clearly hit his head.
Ria blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she jumped back down to the other side, abandoning the shoe entirely, and bolted.
"Damn it!" Matthew cursed.
He vaulted the wall in one smooth motion, catching the top with one hand, flipping over effortlessly—clean, sharp, almost annoyingly cool.
And then—
He chased her.
"Damn it—be a gentleman and let me go!" Ria shouted as she darted into the narrow alley, her footsteps echoing sharply.
"throw your shoe and now you want manners?" Matthew replied lazily, his long strides eating up the distance. "Stop running."
He caught her wrist and spun her around, one arm bracing against the wall beside her head.
The air between them tightened instantly.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I should be asking you that." Ria folded her arms, lifting her chin. "Are you stalking me? I know I'm beautiful, but don't you think that's a bit much?"
Matthew let out a low chuckle and flicked her forehead. "Your brain needs repairs." He stepped back half a pace. "Now pay me. You hit my head with your shoe."
Ria clicked her tongue. "Scamming is my specialty, not yours. Pay you? Dream on. Not a penny, not a dime, not even a single coin."
She poked his chest as she spoke, forcing him back—until she realized she'd pressed him against the wall instead.
"You're bold for someone so short,"
Matthew said calmly. He caught her wrist, his gaze dropping to the diamond bracelet and watch. "You won't mind if I take these as compensation."
"Are you crazy?" Ria struggled, voice rising.
"That's robbery!"
"Already injured," he said flatly, fingers reaching for the clasp.
"Wait—listen to me listen to me let me tell you something let me tell you!!!!!" she shouted.
"Not interested."
She bit his hand.
"Fuck—are you a dog?" Matthew hissed, jerking back.
"Yes," Ria shot back. "Woof woof. Try again and I'll bite your neck."
He stared at her, then scoffed. "Go ahead. I'll just take the watch and bracelet."
"I'll kiss you," she blurted out. "I'll hug you. That counts too."
He laughed softly, dangerous and amused. "If I cracked your head with a pole and offered a kiss, would you accept?"
"Shut up!" Ria snapped. "Stop being so obsessed with money. A kiss and money are basically the same thing. And it was a shoe, not a pole. You want diamonds as
compensation? That's daylight robbery, you thief."
"It's not stealing," Matthew said lazily, twirling the watch around his finger. "I'm just holding it for safekeeping until you pay me for hitting me. Simple."
"I'd be a dog if I believed that," Ria shot back.
Matthew smirked. "You already barked. So behave."
Before Ria could curse him out properly, a sharp voice cut through the alley.
"Hey."
They both turned.
At the entrance of the narrow alley, a tall boy leaned against a rusted signpost, a metal pole resting on his shoulder. His hair was dyed an aggressive, eye-burning green—fresh enough that the smell of chemicals almost seemed to linger in the air.
Ria squinted. "Damn. How many times does someone need to be cheated on before they dye their whole head green?" she muttered.
Matthew snorted. "It's practical. Next time someone tells him his girlfriend put a green hat on him, he can say, 'I know. I've got a whole forest.'"
They nodded in agreement.
The green-haired guy clearly did not realize he was being insulted.
"Matthew," he said, straightening up.
"You've got guts showing your face in my territory. Looks like you want another beating."
As soon as he spoke, shadows peeled off the walls—one, two, then many. Ten guys stepped out from behind dumpsters, broken crates, and parked bikes, slowly closing the alley from both sides.
The space suddenly felt too tight.
Ria's instincts screamed.
She turned to run.
Matthew caught her wrist.
She froze for exactly half a second—then grinned.
"Hey," she said brightly, prying her hand free. "Beat him up nicely for me. Do a good job."
Before anyone could react, she flung her diamond watch in a smooth arc toward the group.
It clinked as it hit the ground.
And Ria ran.
She slipped out through a gap between two buildings, ducked through an overgrown side path, and crouched behind a dense bush near an old tree. From there, she could see the alley entrance clearly without being seen.
The gang stared at the watch.
"…Damn," one of them muttered. "That looks real."
"Tsk your faith is sealed now with this " green hair boy said
Ria, hidden behind the bush, pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Idiot," she hissed under her breath. "Why is he here? Why is Matthew here? Why is a student from Crown Side Public School in this area?"
Her thoughts spiraled.
"What if he recognizes me? What if he tells people I don't belong here? What if he exposes me as a fraud? Was he sent here too? Is this some kind of mission?"
Questions fired one after another.
"Hey, dumbball," she snapped quietly. "Explain. Now."
With a soft pop, Dumbball appeared beside her—this time as a tiny male doll in a suit, sitting on a floating chair, legs crossed, chewing popcorn while watching the fight like it was a movie.
"Relax," Dumbball said, unimpressed. "Why does it look like you left your brain at home?"
Ria didn't look at the fight. Her eyes were locked on him.
"He's the male lead of this comic world,"
Dumbball continued. "Matthew. His surname Figure it out yourself and he is not there Matthew of your world."
Ria clenched her fists. "Then why is he acting like he knows me?"
"Because the original body met him,"
Dumbball replied calmly. "And fell for his looks. Hard."
Ria stiffened.
"She pestered him constantly. Used excuses to meet him. Humiliated him at a high-class bar where he worked. Almost crossed into stalking such as you fell for the same person in your own road."
Ria rolled his eyes " I was more practical about my love I was not that crazy and if I tried to what she did I would be dead" .
"So," she said slowly, eyes lighting up, "according to the comic timeline… I don't know yet that he's a nanny's child. I haven't gotten disgusted. I haven't been rejected properly."
Dumbball nodded. "Correct."
"And right now," Ria continued, smiling faintly, "I'm still openly obsessed with his face. I don't hide it."
"Yes."
Ria leaned back against the tree, the noise of fists and curses echoing from the alley.
"…Interesting."
From the corner of her eye, she watched Matthew move—calm, precise, already pushing the group back toward the alley's far exit.
"…That's why your challenge before the month ends is to blackmail him into staying in the servants' quarters so you can bully him," Dumbball said flatly.
"I know," Ria replied, eyes gleaming. "And I have time. I'll be a little perverted for now before my bullying era starts. Call it payback—he humiliated me in real life. Looks like the tables have turned."
She laughed quietly to herself.
Back in the alley, Matthew was already moving.
The first thug rushed him head-on. Matthew didn't dodge—he stepped in, twisted the guy's wrist, and used the forward momentum to slam him into the wall. Bone met brick. The man collapsed before he could scream.
A second came from behind.
Matthew ducked low, grabbed the attacker's ankle, and swept him clean off his feet.
Before the body hit the ground, Matthew's elbow dropped once—precise, controlled.
The man went still.
Two more charged together.
Matthew backed up a step, forcing them into the narrowest part of the alley. When they swung, he caught one arm, redirected the punch into the other man's face, then shoved both of them forward into stacked crates. Wood splintered. They didn't get up.
The green-haired leader hesitated.
That was his mistake.
Matthew closed the distance in three strides. No wasted motion. One strike to the ribs—measured, exact. One to the jaw—sharp enough to knock the metal pole from his hands.
The leader staggered back, coughing.
He took the pole and use it on the remaining guys breaking their bone he threw the pole away
"Get lost," Matthew said calmly.
That was all it took.
The remaining thugs cursed under their breath, dragging the injured with them as they ran out of the alley, fear louder than their insults.
Silence followed.
Matthew adjusted his sleeve, expression unchanged, as if he'd just finished an inconvenience.
As he turned, his side-eye caught movement near the edge of the path—a bush shifting where there shouldn't be wind.
A small figure.
Watching.
Matthew sneered faintly and walked toward it, steps unhurried.
Behind the bush, Ria was still laughing under her breath, pleased with herself.
Knock.
A sharp tap landed on her head.
"Ow—!"
She looked up.
Matthew stood there, sunlight pouring through the tree branches behind him, framing his figure like an unwanted halo.
And she stared.
Because honestly—how could she not?
Long-lashed, deep-set eyes, dark and glossy like polished obsidian, half-lidded as if permanently bored by the world.
When those eyes focused on you, they didn't warm—they measured, slow and deliberate, like a predator deciding whether you were worth the effort.
Sharp, almost unreal features—high cheekbones, a sculpted jawline, symmetry so perfect it felt carved rather than born. A straight nose, slightly sharp at the bridge, reinforcing that cold, angelic presence. Pale pink lips, usually curved in a knowing smile that promised nothing good.
Raven-black hair, smooth and glossy, threaded with a faint hint of silver, falling loosely around his face. Tall and lean, long-limbed, every movement controlled—6'3, standing like he owned whatever ground he stepped on.
His skin was pale, unnaturally so, catching the light with a faint, glassy glow, as if sunlight had never truly touched him.
The kind of face that was wrong to admire.
Too perfect. Too dangerous.
The kind that made you want to both protect it and provoke it—just to see what would happen.
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"Done staring?"