Amina had been executing like a CEO on a sugar rush for a week straight, and the satisfaction of progress wasn't enough to curb the slow-growing itch beneath her skin. Her spatial storage was filling up like a rich girl's walk-in closet after a spree, but her soul needed more than organization and planning. It needed chaos. A little fire. A little game.
Still, the morning after her catamaran escape, she didn't indulge. Not yet.
This morning was about the villa. Not the penthouse fortress-in-progress she'd been pouring resources into like it was the Louvre. No, this was about the family villa—the centuries-old estate tucked into the lush folds of mountain-meets-city landscape that once belonged to the Kim family. And the system had dropped a surprise on her lap.
[B4: New feature unlocked: Globe Storage. Requirements: 20 units of pure-grade jade, certified antiques of ancestral value, and a connection to emotional energy.]
"Wait—what do you mean 'emotional energy'?" she asked, twirling her spoon in a bowl of roasted peanut soup while perched on a velvet barstool in her penthouse's unfinished kitchen.
[B4: The stronger the emotion imbued in a place, the more stable the globe transfer. Love, devotion, peace. Your family home qualifies.]
Amina froze.
Not hers. The original Amina Kim's.
She'd always felt it—the pulse of warmth in that villa. Even when she'd been rage-fueled and grief-hollowed on arrival, she could feel the love soaked into the wooden beams, the embroidered cushions, the garden paths. The love that two good parents had poured into their daughter with no agenda, no manipulation, no conditions.
A love that rewrote generational curses.
Amina swallowed thickly and set down the spoon. "We're preserving the villa."
[B4: I anticipated this decision. Begin jade and antique acquisition immediately.]
Two hours later, she was dressed like a war general disguised as an art collector.
White wide-leg trousers, a black silk camisole tucked in at the waist, and a floor-length dove-gray trench coat with silver buttons that gleamed like cold moonlight. Her hair was pulled into a low, sharp ponytail, and her lips were glossed a soft petal-pink. Innocent from afar. Deadly up close.
[B4: You look expensive.]
"I am expensive."
[B4: And now, going to spend even more.]
She visited five antique dealers that day.
The first two were duds—crooked smiles and faux porcelain with fake "dynastic" stamps. The third was better. She secured two Qing-era vases, a scroll painted by a reclusive monk rumored to dream in poetry, and an incense burner made of black jade.
[B4: That makes seven jade pieces total. Thirteen more.]
Amina sighed and leaned back in the backseat of her Maybach. "At this rate, I'm going to seduce an entire dynasty's worth of ghosts."
[B4: I'd pay to watch that.]
"Of course you would."
The fourth dealer was a friend of a friend—housed in a high-rise boutique with no signage. When she stepped inside, a tinkling bell announced her, and the scent of aged wood, tea, and polish hit her like a nostalgic wave.
Her eyes scanned the space. The walls were lined with glass cabinets containing everything from ancient jade combs to tapestries that whispered secrets when the light hit them right.
She was halfway through inspecting a set of carved dragon hairpins when she felt it again.
That power.
That same primal, magnetic presence from the club.
She turned—and there he was.
Same obsidian eyes. Same lazy, deadly aura. This time in a tailored charcoal suit, with a black turtleneck that hugged his collarbones like a caress.
His gaze burned into hers.
She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Are you following me?"
"Maybe," he said, voice a warm, dark rumble. "Or maybe fate is playing favorites."
She stepped closer, her heels echoing off the antique-tiled floor. "You're not from here."
"No," he said simply.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"Neither are you."
And just like that, the world blurred again.
She walked past him, her perfume trailing like a promise, and without looking back, she said, "Try to keep up."
The boutique's dressing rooms were private. Very private. High-end customers required discretion, and Amina had already rented the floor.
She didn't waste time.
He followed her inside, and the door locked with a soft click. Silk drapes. Full-length mirrors. Gold lighting that kissed every angle just right.
She turned, leaned against the mirror, and hooked a finger. "Come here."
He came.
Clothes slid, moans echoed, and the room pulsed with heat and forbidden pleasure. The tension snapped, rebuilt, and snapped again. When it was over, they lay tangled in silence, breathless.
[System Notification: Male Lead #1 successfully bound. Compatibility: 97%. Unique Skill: Shadow Combat. Bonus: Emotional Link established.]
She watched him button his shirt, his hair messier than before, lips still swollen.
"Name?" she asked casually.
"Jin," he said. "Yours?"
"Amina."
He smiled. "I'll find you again."
"I know," she said, and with a kiss to his throat, vanished into the world once more.
[B4: What now?]
"Now we hoard."