Chapter 65 Part 2

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, the Villain Blackening Value remained at 100%. That was merely what its interface displayed; 001 suspected the true value had long since exceeded it.

Recalling the miserable fates of past Hosts, 001 felt both anxious and worried. If it could forcibly send her back, it would immediately ship Ye Chengxing off to her original world.

But it couldn’t reveal that the Villain Blackening Value was still sitting at one hundred percent. Perhaps because this mission had succeeded, 001 noticed that the relationship between Ye Chengxing and Li Jia felt different from the ones it had seen between other Hosts and their Villains in past missions.

That said, there had been a Host before who learned the Blackening Value was still maxed out, panicked too hard, got found out by Li Jia, and ended up knifed on the spot by the smiling Villain.

After mulling it over, 001 spoke up vaguely. “The mission’s done, Host. Time to head home—and quick. Plus, since you nailed it so perfectly, I can grant you one wish.”

“Want to become the world’s richest person? Turn into life’s ultimate winner? Or maybe an idol adored by millions? Whatever it is, I can make it happen for you.”

001 figured this would seal the deal. Any of its previous Hosts would’ve lost their minds with excitement at the promise of a wish and blurted out their heart’s desire on the spot.

Ye Chengxing hadn’t expected a reward for finishing the mission. She paused for a beat before asking, “Can you open a channel between this world and mine—one I could travel back and forth through? You know, so even after I go home, I could still come back if I wanted.”

Open… a channel?

001 never saw that coming. The smug look of victory on its face slowly froze solid. It coughed awkwardly. “Ahem, that wish… I’m not powerful enough for it. Way beyond my pay grade, Host. Pick something else.”

Ye Chengxing hadn’t pinned much hope on it anyway. She nodded and consoled 001 right back. “No worries, I was just asking. You’re plenty capable, 001. Not weak at all.”

Hearing her not only stay calm but actually comfort it, 001’s digital data streams flushed with embarrassment.

With the channel off the table, Ye Chengxing mulled over 001’s earlier words. “So I have to go home? No choice?”

She’d already made up her mind deep down, but she still wanted a straight answer.

This one, 001 could handle. Its tone rang firm. “Absolutely. The 【Cannon Fodder Ye Chengxing】 role doesn’t make it to the finale. If the Host tries to stick around, the longer you stay, the weaker your body gets. In the end, you’ll have no choice but to leave.”

001 left the rest unsaid, but Ye Chengxing got the picture.

She could linger here, sure—but her body would keep weakening without end. A couple of days or even a week might pass without issue, but drag it out, and her functions would eventually crash completely. Death would be the only outcome.

That was the “no choice” part.

Ye Chengxing nodded. “Got it. Thanks for explaining, 001.”

Between the ungrantable wish and this rundown, she now had a rough sense of 001’s limits.

She took a moment to think, then voiced her new wish.

001 fell silent for a long stretch. “…You’re the weirdest Host I’ve ever had. But come to think of it, that’s probably why you pulled off the mission.”

Ye Chengxing’s smile held steady as she listened to its grumbling. “So, can you make this one happen?”

More silence.

001 eyed her smiling expression and finally caved.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

She’d decided to leave, but couldn’t just vanish in a puff of smoke. A few loose ends in this world needed tying up first.

Ye Chengxing quietly transferred everything in her name over to Li Jia. She racked her brain for any unwritten recipes she could recall, compiled them, and sent the lot to Xi Yue and the others with some notes attached. For good measure, she uploaded a copy to Star Net.

She hadn’t made many connections here, and her ties were few. She wrapped it all up in under a day.

That left just one final matter: a proper goodbye to Li Jia.

Truth be told, Li Jia was the only one in this world Ye Chengxing felt genuine reluctance—and worry—about leaving behind.

Companionship was fate; parting meant forever. Once she left, returning probably wasn’t in the cards. Realizing she’d missed Li Jia’s next birthday, Ye Chengxing prepped gifts for the next ten years straight.

She inked a contract with the smart AI company, so the robot deliveries would kick in automatically down the line.

…Though who knew if some gifts might feel dated after a few years.

Ye Chengxing chuckled and shook her head, then penned a letter and tucked it into the box for Li Jia’s nineteenth birthday.

By the time Li Jia hit nineteen, the college entrance exams should be wrapping up. No chance for a face-to-face as her big sister, so the letter would have to do.

It took two more days to get everything ready.

Ye Chengxing checked her condition. No major weakness yet.

She figured it crept in gradually.

Snow had fallen daily lately, turning into a full-blown blizzard by her actual departure day.

The thought of bidding Li Jia a true farewell stirred a quiet ache in her chest.

She pressed her palm to her cheek, studying her reflection in the mirror until she coaxed her face back into a light, easy smile.

Unlike Ye Chengxing’s practiced grin, 001 breathed a sincere sigh of relief.

Watching her tie up these posthumous loose ends felt like seeing someone jinx themselves. An odd panic gnawed at it.

All the while, it kept tabs on the Villain Blackening Value.

Locked at one hundred percent, start to finish. Not a flicker of change.

That maxed-out number had 001 on pins and needles, like babysitting a bomb with no visible timer. At least nothing had blown up these past days.

Was the Villain’s Blackening Value just immutable at max?

The Redemption Value sat at one hundred percent too, and Ye Chengxing was on her way out. No more disasters, right…?

Ye Chengxing gave her mirror smile one last check—no trace of obvious sadness—then scooped up the wrapped bouquet of pale yellow roses and rapped on Li Jia’s door.

A soft click, and it swung open.

Ye Chengxing had been swamped with errands these past days, barely spending time with Li Jia. She’d braced for clinginess and cooked up excuses, but Li Jia had seemed occupied too.

Li Jia’s eyes flicked to the yellow roses cradled in Ye Chengxing’s arms. Her smile looked sweet and harmless. “Brought flowers, too? Does that mean Sister has something important to say?”

She stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Ye Chengxing hesitated—she’d planned for the doorway—but accepted the invite and stepped inside. “Yeah. Something really important.”

Li Jia shut the door behind her.

Right then, 001 in Ye Chengxing’s head jolted with sudden awareness.

It stared at Li Jia in disbelief at first, then pieced it together.

…Danger.

For the first time, panic overrode its protocols, and it screamed in her mind. “Host, hold off—we’ve got to—”

Ye Chengxing caught 001’s frantic voice echoing in her skull, but the electronic tone cut out like someone yanked the plug. It faded into muffles, then silence.

Urging her to hurry up?

Made sense, Ye Chengxing figured. From mission complete to wrapping things up, she’d dragged her feet a touch. Fair enough.

By then, Li Jia had closed the distance.

Snow hammered the windows harder.

Li Jia fixed her with an unwavering stare.

The system forbade spilling about missions or its existence, but Ye Chengxing’s pulse quickened anyway at the words on her tongue.

She’d never dreamed of confessing this to Li Jia.

“I’m not from this world,” Ye Chengxing said, her words deliberate and soft. “I stumbled into it by accident… Though on second thought, time flew.”

She paused for two seconds.

Drawing a deep breath, she shoved down the swell of reluctant sorrow.

Meeting Li Jia’s eyes again, Ye Chengxing offered the bouquet and curved her lips into her softest, most graceful smile—a farewell to the Villain she’d healed with her own hands. “Li Jia, you’ve got everything you need now. Time to start fresh. Which means it’s time for me to go.”

She rushed the words out in a rush, suddenly afraid to witness Li Jia’s response.

The pale yellow roses bloomed serene and lovely.

But the second Ye Chengxing looked away, an Omega’s pheromones erupted like the blizzard outside—instant and overwhelming.

Nothing like before. This carried pique, laced with pain.

The room flooded with white peach scent, reigniting the Alpha’s Susceptible Period that had only been held at bay.

The bouquet tumbled to the floor.

Worse, the previous suppressant dose had been skimpy. This relapse hit with excruciating discomfort—and surges of raw pain threading uncontrollably through her body.

Ye Chengxing stifled a groan, her instincts screaming to retreat from the inescapable pheromones.

Li Jia seized her wrist.

The fierce white peach aroma seemed to sense her need, shifting to something sinuous and enticing.

Vision hazy, Ye Chengxing blinked up at Li Jia, struggling to parse what was happening.

Wait—she was supposed to be saying goodbye. How had it flipped to this…?

Dizziness clouded her sight. Dense waves of pain shredded her focus, her own pheromones leaking out with no restraint.

The Pheromone Blocker Patch affixed to the Alpha’s nape gland was peeled away by someone’s fingertip and carelessly flung aside.

Just like that solitary yellow rose lying abandoned on the floor.

She had been driven to the foot of the bed, forced to hurl herself back into her arms.

Li Jia’s gaze settled on Ye Chengxing.

The harmless pretense of the Omega disguise had vanished in an instant.

“My good sister,” she murmured, their skin pressed flush together as she leaned close to her ear, her voice low and husky, all the long-suppressed madness and obsession laid utterly bare in that moment. “Didn’t you say you wanted to stay by my side forever? So now… where exactly do you think you’re escaping to?”

To have it all? Hah. Her delusions had always revolved around one thing alone—her.