Chapter 8 As a gentle drizzle fell that night, the bathroom light abruptly flickered and went out. I shouldn't have rushed to shower first, I thought bitterly. Panicked, I lost my footing and slipped, crashing to the floor. Hank urgently knocked on the door, calling out explanations as he did. "Hey, you okay? "The wiring's old. It always shorts out when it rains." I stayed quiet, not answering. "Hey! Did you fall? Say something. "Say something now, or I'm coming in." The door burst open from the outside. Then I saw Hank, eyes tightly shut, awkwardly fumbling to drape a bath towel around me. He picked me up and laid me back in bed under the covers. Crushed by the weight of my emotions, I couldn't bring myself to meet Hank's searching gaze. But he didn't press for answers. *Get some rest. I'll be right outside if you need anything." As Hank left the room, I squeezed my eyes shut and burrowed deeper under the covers. In my dream, I was twenty again, trapped in that plagiarism nightmare. One unfamiliar face after another twisted and tore at me. They swarmed relentlessly, invading everywhere. They doxxed all my accounts, flooding them with comments calling me a "bitch" and "plagiarizing scum." They even dug up screenshots of my parents, calling me a bastard with no upbringing, and said my whole family should die a horrible death. My roommates hurled rotten fruit onto my bed, while my advisor kept pressuring me to drop out. Faced with endless baseless accusations and countless mocking whispers from strangers, I hid in a rented room for 100 dollars a month. During those dark, gloomy days, all I remembered was the rain never stopped. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. During manic episodes, I could stay awake for days on end. But when depression hit, I couldn't even get out of bed, not even to wash up. 1/3 Chapter 8 Then Ryan appeared in my darkest hour, offering unwavering trust and support without question. He was like a beam of light pierced through the darkness of my shabby rented room. He soothed my hurt feelings and eased my illness. He distracted those aggressive online followers who tried to confront me in person. Soon after, an official statement cleared me of all accusations. But not a single apology came. The Internet just spawned a new wave of self-righteous warriors taking up my defense. But those who had cursed me vanished without a trace. My roommates still hated me. If anything, they hated me even more now. Because I exposed their stupidity and malice. In all those years before I became famous, my roommates never once spoke to me. But thankfully, I've long since stopped caring. Eventually, I recovered, and everyone assumed those dark days were behind me. But only I knew the truth. Ever since then, I can't stay alone in the dark when it rains anymore." opened the door in the morning and saw clear signs that someone had slept on the couch. You're up. Come have breakfast." With an apologetic tone, I offered Hank a few words of explanation. He showed neither surprise nor comfort, just asked calmly, "Have you ever heard this saying?" "What?" I froze for a moment. "Kind-hearted people feel guilty even when they're the ones wronged." Am I a kind-hearted person? It's been a long time since anyone called me kind. Not long ago, I thought even those close to me believed I was cold and heartless. I avoided his direct gaze. It's like pretending to be strong for so long, only to feel exposed and embarrassed when someone finally sees the softness underneath. Then his tone shifted abruptly, turning playful and irreverent. "I never expected this. Word in the industry is that you're ruthless and vengeful, but clearly, that reputation doesn't quite match reality." Here he went again. 2/3 Chapter 8 I set down my fork with practiced ease, meeting his eyes with careful sincerity. "Mr. Scott, thank you for your care. Since we can't reach an agreement on our collaboration, I won't trouble you any further today." Hank sprang to his feet. "My car is gone, so I can't drive you back today" "It's fine. I remember there's a highway just a few miles from here and there are plenty of cars passing by." "Your wallet is gone and your phone's broken. How exactly are you gonna pay for the ride?" I kept my face expressionless as I stepped around Hank, who was blocking my way and headed straight for the door. "I still believe there are good people in this world." "Wait, you…" "I've decided not to withdraw my investment from Tisla. All our other collaborations will proceed as planned." I froze mid-step and whirled around. Hank withdrew his hand with a visible look of smug satisfaction. I frowned, confused. "But didn't you say you were backing out before?" He sat down with a show of forced dignity and nodded. "Yes, but my prized car is still with those villagers. It's a limited edition, you know. 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