Chapter 47
"Di!"
After waiting in line for what felt like forever, Yan Huan and Yinggong Tong finally passed the ticket check and stepped into the massive convention center.
Say what you will, but the moment they entered, the sheer luxury of the Gold Lion Group overwhelmed them.
Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling between marble pillars, illuminating lion sculptures carved onto the surrounding walls. The entire place shimmered with golden splendor, setting the tone for a cultural extravaganza.
And this was just the first venue.
Inside the Golden Lion Convention Center, multiple halls interconnected to form a sprawling layout with over a dozen themed zones.
There were official game releases, fashion shows of various styles, guest autograph areas, doujin circles, underground doujin booths, an entertainment zone, and a snack area—
And at the very center was the “Main Venue.”
As the only location with a stage, all official events, including the upcoming guest meet-and-greet, were scheduled to take place there.
Bai Yi would be appearing on that stage as well.
Yan Huan glanced at the map guide the staff had handed them at the entrance, preparing to discuss with Yinggong Tong where to head first.
But just as they stepped inside, Yinggong Tong folded her parasol, held it in her hand, pointed in a direction, and said,
"President, I'm going to the restroom."
"Alright, I’ll wait for you here."
Yinggong Tong smiled and nodded before turning to leave.
Entering the empty restroom, she hummed a cheerful tune, pressed a hidden button on her parasol, and began washing her hands.
*Ding ding~*
It wasn’t long before a woman in a qipao and sunglasses walked up to the restroom door.
It was Nara, Yinggong Tong’s personal bodyguard.
Seeing her young lady so relaxed inside, Nara let out a silent sigh and turned off the alarm on her phone.
"My dear Miss Yinggong, I told you, unless it’s an emergency, don’t press that button—even if I’m always nearby."
But Yinggong Tong ignored her scolding, smiling as she dried her hands under the hand dryer.
"Hmm hmm~"
Nara blinked, confused by her reaction.
Then, Yinggong Tong took out her phone, opened her photo album, and began showing Nara something.
"......"
Nara raised an eyebrow and looked at the screen.
There it was—Yan Huan holding his phone, with Yinggong Tong leaning close beside him. Both were smiling at the camera.
A rare photo of the Yuanyue Student Council President and Vice President together.
But Nara only glanced at it before turning to look at Yinggong Tong, who now stood tall, phone in hand, flashing a bright, sunny smile.
"So?"
Upon hearing that, Yinggong Tong’s smile morphed into a pout, puffing out her cheeks.
She swiped through the album quickly, letting photos slide by one after another.
"Eh, so?! Look, it's not just one! There are tons! And many of them have filters and stickers too!"
"......"
Nara’s lips parted slightly as her eyes flickered through the stream of photos like light through water.
In that moment, she finally realized why Yinggong Tong had called her over.
"...Miss Yinggong, don’t tell me you summoned me just to show off your photos with Yan Huan?"
Yinggong Tong froze for a second, then stubbornly replied, a hint of embarrassment in her voice,
"This is an achievement! An achievement, okay?! And it’s not just any photo—President even turned down other people's photo requests just to take one with me!"
"......"
"He even said something super cool like, 'I can’t leave behind someone who can’t take photos!' You get it, Nara?!"
"...Yes, yes, yes. You win, Miss."
"I won again?!"
Nara sighed and said nothing, but her face clearly expressed, ‘Money’s hard to earn, and nonsense is hard to endure.’
That look only made Yinggong Tong more annoyed. Her cheeks puffed up like balloons, turning redder by the second.
But then she glanced at the photo of her and Yan Huan again, and her expression immediately softened into a warm, dreamy smile.
"Hmph, I don’t care. When we get back, I’m printing all these photos and hanging them on my wall!"
"Sure, and hang a plaque underneath that says ‘In Loving Memory’ with a nameplate reading ‘Love Is Eternal’..."
"Nara!!"
Yinggong Tong raised a fist in protest, but Nara effortlessly blocked it with one hand.
When it came to anything involving Yan Huan, Miss Yinggong’s intelligence always flickered in and out.
Yes, when it flickered off, she was like this—silly and doing all sorts of weird things.
And when it flickered on, it was when she secretly spied on Yan Huan or confronted rivals like Ye Shiyu.
Mm, still so adorable—her face glowing with the light of first love.
Easily blocking her pink-fisted attack, Nara sighed and said,
"Ah, now that I look closer, Miss, you and Yan Huan really are a perfect match—handsome and beautiful, a couple blessed by the heavens."
Though it sounded like flattery, Nara delivered the line with impeccable timing and tone.
Others might be fooled, but Yinggong Tong knew her too well and wasn’t buying it.
Her attempt to brag had failed, so she let out a ‘humph’ and looked at the photo again with self-satisfaction.
"Meh, whatever, unappreciative soul... So, how’s the entertainment zone setup coming along?"
"Mmhmm, everything’s ready—fortune telling, couple games, claw machines, and most importantly, the haunted house, right?"
"Good."
Finally, Yinggong Tong’s restless heart began to calm down.
Her expression shifted into one of devious satisfaction—mission accomplished. Naturally, she couldn’t help but daydream.
With this perfect setup, the flames of love would surely ignite. President would be hers!
'As long as these events go well, Yan Huan confessing to me isn't far off—he’ll be mine.'
That way, she wouldn’t have to break character. She could stay by the President’s side without him suspecting a thing—as long as she kept pretending.
'It won’t break the persona I’ve spent so long building. Yan Huan will think it’s all perfectly natural. I’ll just keep pretending, and he’ll never see the real me.'
As she thought this, Yinggong Tong rubbed her chin and looked blankly at Nara—who, as always, was reading her like a book.
She had already guessed Yinggong Tong’s thoughts with near-perfect accuracy.
"Eh?"
"You’re really easy to read, Miss—all your thoughts are written on your face."
Nara sighed, but then her smile took on a charming, natural grace.
"Still, I think you only show this side of yourself to me, Miss Yinggong."
Yinggong Tong pouted and replied,
"That’s only because we’re accomplices—we’ve seen each other’s most embarrassing sides. That’s why we stick together for warmth, right?"
"Well, whatever the reason, since you trust me this much, I’ll give you a little hint, okay?"
"You? Sister?"
Yinggong Tong was about to scoff, but then Nara raised her index finger and wagged it.
"Miss, don’t you pride yourself on knowing Yan Huan better than anyone?"
"Of course! I know exactly what President’s doing every day—and everything else too..."
"Let’s not talk about whether you can hide your true self forever. Let me ask just one thing."
Nara looked up, her gaze sharp like an arrow ready to strike.
"Yan Huan has to study, manage the student council, and work part-time—where would he find the extra time to fall in love with you, Miss?"
"."
"And even if your parents are open-minded about dating, they’ll still scrutinize your future husband—especially his background and capabilities, right?"
"."
With just two questions, Nara delivered a brutal dose of reality straight to Yinggong Tong’s heart.
These issues might be even scarier than hiding her true self from Yan Huan forever.
Yeah... President still has to work part-time, and her parents...
"I..."
Yinggong Tong gasped, struggling to refute these mountainous truths.
But then, in the very next second, something came to her.
Wait a minute.
President isn’t completely without background!
She remembered that on Friday, Ye Shiyu and her mother, Ye Lan, had visited Yan Huan’s rented apartment—an encounter that nearly broke her.
So on Saturday, in addition to having Nara prepare today’s “trap for Yan Huan” in the entertainment zone, she also investigated the Ye mother and daughter.
It didn’t take long to discover that Ye Lan was a powerful executive at the renowned Ye International—a woman who definitely wasn’t to be underestimated.
(*) Note for line 8: "Doujin" refers to self-published works, often fan-made manga, illustrations, or novels, popular in Japanese fan culture.
With Ye Lan supporting the President, he wouldn't have to work so hard anymore—and it would also patch up the gap in his background!
At that thought, Yinggong Tong's eyes lit up slightly.
In the photo from yesterday's data, Ye Lan now seemed to radiate divine light, sprouting a halo and angel wings, smiling down at Yinggong Tong with motherly compassion.
'Oh young girl, pray devoutly to the deity Ye Lan, and she will bless your love~'
In that moment, Yinggong Tong almost wished she could convert and become a follower of the possibly imaginary "Church of Ye Lan."
Beneath Ye Lan’s benevolent illusionary gaze, Yinggong Tong’s mind began to spin faster and faster.
Her family loved her dearly—otherwise, they would never have allowed her to study alone in Linmen.
(*) Linmen is a fictional city setting in the story.
Besides, she knew the President was outstanding on his own—not just some pretty boy relying on good looks.
As long as she worked hard and clearly explained the President’s virtues to her parents, what Nara said wouldn’t be a problem at all!
*Hiss* 'Think it through carefully—'
'Isn’t this basically the perfect convergence of timing, location, and people?!'
'Isn’t this proof that she and the President are meant to be together?!'
'Isn’t this a sign that she’s already...'
'Totally won!!'
Under Ye Lan’s merciful gaze, Vice President Yinggong Tong basked in holy light, as though she had ascended.
But in the very next second, behind that divine figure appeared a cold-faced girl with no expression.
She had horns on her head, bat wings on her back, and a devil’s tail shaped like a heart.
Though expressionless, she filled Yinggong Tong with an overwhelming sense of disgust and hatred.
It was Ye Shiyu.
'Wait a minute.'
'If I follow this logic, doesn’t that mean I should actually thank that so-called Older Sister Ye Shiyu for the high compatibility rate between me and the President?'
'Calm down.'
'Calm down, Yinggong Tong.'
'The President already said Ye Shiyu is just his older sister.'
'That’s not unusual—everyone has siblings. It’s perfectly norm—'
In that instant, Yinggong Tong remembered that strange urge to believe Spencer and the President were really just holding a study group when they were in the Principal’s office on Tuesday.
'The way Ye Shiyu looked at the President—was that really how an older sister should look at her younger brother?'
'And why would I even think that...'
'It’s all Spencer’s fault!!'
Nara, watching Yinggong Tong fall into deep thought, couldn’t figure out what she was thinking as her expression flickered between excitement and gloom.
But whatever. She was just a bodyguard, offering Miss Yinggong a friendly reminder.
As for what to actually do—that wasn’t her concern.
Matters of the heart are always between two people—outsiders can’t interfere.
With a faint smile, she looked toward the restroom and gently patted the pale-faced Yinggong Tong to snap her out of it.
“Alright, I’ll wait for you in the entertainment zone. Don’t keep your President waiting too long, Miss Yinggong.”
*Achoo!*
Golden Lion Convention Center, underground doujinshi area.
(*) Doujinshi: Self-published manga or fan works, often sold at conventions in Japan and East Asia.
In a large area sectioned off by curtains, a golden-haired girl suddenly sneezed unexpectedly. She sniffled and looked confused.
“No way. Is Santa Claus really that petty? Why does he keep cursing me?”
She was the clever and sharp-tongued golden-maned lion, Aruiya Spencer.
She looked around at the long lines of booths selling all kinds of doujinshi and games—titles Spencer couldn’t make sense of at all.
“That ‘.’ symbol—what the heck is that supposed to mean?”
'Reading is hard enough already, and now they’re using ciphers and abbreviations?'
'Are they afraid people might actually understand it?'
In truth, those were just content rating labels, marking materials as restricted for those under eighteen.
Linmen’s rating system was thorough, ensuring fans of all kinds could find content suited to their tastes.
But of course, there were downsides. Sometimes rated materials still slipped into groups that weren’t supposed to have access.
No matter how strict the censorship, there are always loopholes.
Like now—no one was checking IDs. As long as you didn’t look blatantly like an elementary schooler, you could walk in without issue.
An Le had been quite excited upon arriving, saying she wanted to buy something she’d been dying to get.
Spencer, not understanding any of it, just sat at the entrance waiting for her to return.
“Wow, this new work by Teacher Jiaotan is incredible!”
“Yeah, that feeling of stripping everything away from someone who had it all—it’s so satisfying!”
Sitting nearby, Spencer caught something interesting and looked up.
Her golden hair seemed to shimmer slightly as she turned to see two masked otakus chatting, each holding a black bag.
“Especially the part about the fall from grace…”
“Right, right! That scene was amazing! Still in love with their partner but giving in to instinct... the slow descent from restraint to despair and corruption—the expression!”
As they kept talking, a sudden wave of dread washed over them.
It felt like something precious was about to be taken away.
The feeling rose from deep within their hearts, an instinctive illusion.
The two froze and turned—only to see a stunning golden-haired girl standing there, arms crossed, staring at them.
“Eh? What are you two talking about? I’m really interested~”
“I—”
She was so beautiful, yet all they felt was disgust and fear.
One tried to reply, but the other shook his head and quickly dragged him away.
“Tch, cowards.”
Spencer yawned and glanced at the two fleeing figures with their black bags, curling her lip in disdain.
“Um... Spencer, I’m back.”
“Huh?”
Arms crossed and standing tall, Spencer turned to see An Le—still wearing her mask—carrying seven or eight black bags.
“It took some effort and help from online friends, but I managed to get all the new releases I wanted.”
Even through the mask, Spencer could see the faint blush on An Le’s face, matching her excited tone.
On her shoulder, the phantom Little Pinky rolled its eyes.
“You chase after these wild games and comics, but when it comes to real life, you’re totally clueless. What’s the point?”
An Le glanced at Little Pinky, finally coming down from the high of her purchases.
She shyly lowered her head and hugged the black bags even tighter.
“So, what exactly is in those black bags? Everyone seems super thrilled after buying them.”
“Ah, these?”
An Le looked at the puzzled Spencer, wanting to explain—but just couldn’t bring herself to say it.
'How could I explain these strange, niche works to someone like her?'
Especially since she was buying them on commission—definitely not something to brag about!
Seeing An Le stammering like that, Spencer grew more impatient, arms still folded.
“Forget it, I’ll go check for myself!”
“Wait, Spencer!”
But how could meek An Le possibly stop the bold and headstrong Spencer?
All she could do was watch as Spencer marched confidently toward one of the booths.
A sign hung above it:
“Pure Ballet~”
“Teacher Jiaotan’s latest looting masterpiece, now hot-selling!”
(*) "Looting" here refers to a genre trope where a character is metaphorically or literally stripped of their dignity or possessions, often in a dark or dramatic context.
Spencer swaggered straight to the front, ignoring the long line of dozens.
'Are you kidding? My family owns this convention. Why should I wait in line?'
'It’s over.'
'It’s really over!!'
An Le covered her mouth, but it was already too late to stop her.
She watched helplessly as Spencer stepped up to the booth and said to the muscular, masked man inside:
“Give me one copy.”
“...”
The man—none other than the artist himself—froze mid-motion. Seeing this girl boldly cut the line, he was momentarily speechless.
The people in line behind her frowned, ready to tap her shoulder—until Spencer turned around.
The moment they saw her face, a wave of chilling dread and revulsion swept over them, and they instinctively backed away.
"Huh?"
After a moment, he finally gathered the courage to speak.
"We're in line, you know?"
"Yeah!"
"Why are you cutting in?!"
Spencer said nothing. Silently, she pulled out her overstuffed wallet.
Without a word, she grabbed a thick stack of large-denomination bills, placed them into the hand of the man behind her, lifted her chin, and claimed the prime spot in line.
"The spot's mine now."
"I—"
The man had intended to firmly refuse. He wasn’t the kind of person to be swayed by money.
He was a man of principle!
But—
She gave way too much!!
The man instantly fell silent. The rest of the line, realizing this newcomer was clearly not someone to mess with, also said nothing.
Only then did Spencer turn around with satisfaction. She looked toward the masked artist in the booth and said,
"Give me one copy of that... whatever comic of yours?"
"..."
The man inside the booth was muscular, but surprisingly, he suffered from social anxiety.
He frowned, clearly displeased with Spencer’s behavior. After a pause, he finally asked,
"Did you wait in line?"
Spencer blinked at his question, then honestly shook her head.
"Nope. Didn’t line up."
"..."
Upon hearing that, both the artist in the booth and the man still holding the money were stunned.
'Seriously? You’re being way too honest right now?!'
"...If you didn’t line up, I can’t sell it."
The artist stared blankly for several seconds before remembering to respond.
Spencer opened her mouth, looked up at the 'R16' sign above, rubbed her chin, and fell into thought.
'Oh.'
'So that’s what that sign means!'
She blinked again, looked at the artist, and said,
"Then I lined up—sell it to me now."
"..."
"..."
A strange, awkward silence fell over the entire scene.
The next second, An Le—her face bright red—rushed over and grabbed Spencer.
"I'm sorry!! So sorry, everyone! Apologies, apologies!! Spencer—let's just go!"
"Huh?! But I haven’t bought it yet!"
"Please, I’m begging you! Spencer..."
An Le was nearly in tears, her face as red as an apple.
This was just way too embarrassing!
If this kept going, she was absolutely, positively going to lose all her dignity.
Although Spencer was still reluctant, seeing An Le’s tearful, desperate expression, she clicked her tongue in frustration and allowed herself to be dragged away little by little.
If she truly didn’t want to leave, not even ten An Les could’ve moved her.
"Oh, right—"
Just as they were leaving, Spencer turned back toward the man who had originally been standing in line.
She snatched the money from his hand and shoved it back into her pocket.
"Fair’s fair. I didn’t get the comic, so the money doesn’t count."
"..."
An Le’s face was practically steaming red by this point. Apologizing profusely to everyone around them, she dragged Spencer away from the scene.
"Hey, stop pulling me."
"Uu~ I'm sorry! Let’s just go. Let’s go play somewhere else, okay, Spencer?"
Pushed out of the doujin convention’s underground venue by An Le, Spencer crossed her arms with a sour look on her face.
"Hah? What else is there to do?"
"Wherever you want to go, I’ll go with you, Spencer—just please don’t stay here any longer, uu..."
"...You said it."
Seeing An Le so embarrassed she looked ready to bury her head in her chest, Spencer grinned mischievously and pulled out the map guide the staff had handed her earlier.
With a pale finger, she poked a spot on the map and pushed it right in front of An Le’s eyes with a crisp *pop*.
"Then I want to go here!"
"Th-that place is..."
An Le looked up and saw the place Spencer was pointing to.
"Entertainment Zone: Killer Vines Slasher School~"
Yup.
It’s the haunted house!!
[End of Chapter]
(*) Note for line 253: "Doujin convention" refers to a fan-made comic or art convention, popular in Japanese pop culture, where amateur and professional artists sell self-published works.