The Devil's Favourite Obsession

”It is an absolute shame that his own family does not care about his well-being,” Cixi pushed out, her eyes glistening. Tears spilled over her lashes. ”I am truly not sure what is worse—having parents who ignore their children’s existence, or the blessing of being an orphan!”

Michael’s jaw clenched. His face darkened into a grim expression.

But Cixi didn’t wait to hear his rebuttal. She spun on her heel, her red coat flaring, and marched toward the heavy oak doors. The guards scrambled to open them as she stormed out of the sitting room, practically jogging down the vast, white corridors to escape the stifling wealth.

”Cixi!”

The sharp clip of heels echoed behind her. ”Cixi, wait!”

Cixi paused near the stone staircase of the grand foyer and turned. Emily was speed-walking to catch up with her, slightly out of breath.

Cixi crossed her arms. ’What does she want now?’

”How do you plan to leave?” Emily asked, gesturing toward the monumental windows exposing the sprawling estate. ”You are in the middle of a private forest. There are no taxis available here.”

Cixi’s bravado crumbled instantly into practical panic. She looked out at the endless trees covered in snow. ”You are right.” She chewed her lower lip. ”How am I supposed to leave?”

”I am heading back to the office,” Emily sighed. ”I can drop you back in the city on the way.”

And just like that, they found themselves back in the car, retracing the tense, hour-long drive toward the Crown Hotel.

Before Cixi could get out of the car, Emily conveyed. ”I will look into Cassian.”

The words offered little actual assurance, but it was a single thread of hope in an otherwise desolate afternoon. Before leaving, they both exchanged numbers.

Cixi spent another day staking out the apartment building where she knew Cassian lived, only to come away disappointed.

Even Mark, Cassian’s ever-present shadow, was completely missing.

Days bled into weeks. Weeks dissolved into months.

It had been exactly six months since Cassian vanished. And the last time she heard from Emily was three months ago, when Emily texted her, saying she had found nothing on Cassian. Even the police and private investigators were of no help.

Soon after, Cassian Crown’s name officially appeared on the missing persons’ registry.

Meanwhile, Emily Blanch had ascended to the position of Acting President of the Crown Premium Luxury Hotel.

In those six months, Cixi had withdrawn her hard-earned scholarship and dropped out of college entirely.

She found a full-time job at a bustling local cafe named ’Warm Land’, trying to get her life back.

She changed her phone number after receiving constant threats from Silvia and found a decent one-bedroom apartment five blocks away from Marion’s place to stay close to the only person she still trusted.

She even tried to dye her hair black, but failed. Her blond hair was adamant not to accept any other colour.

And her nights were worse than her days.

Summer had officially arrived in the city.

Inside the air-conditioned interior of ’Warm Land’, Cixi walked around the crowded tables. She wore the cafe’s uniform—black trousers and a black button-down blouse—with a dark floral scarf wrapped securely around her head, hiding every strand of gold.

She collected empty plates from a corner booth and offered a polite smile to the couple sitting there.

”It will take about twenty minutes for the food, but I will bring your drinks right away.”

Carrying the tray, she pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, relayed the food order to the chef, and stepped behind the beverage counter to prepare one iced latte and one Bobba Tea.

”What’s your plan for after work?” asked Lily, another waitress who had joined ’Warm Land’ around the same time as Cixi.

Lily was currently steaming milk for a different order, her dark apron dusted with cocoa powder.

”I will go home and read a novel,” Cixi answered simply, pouring a shot of espresso over ice.

”Don’t be lame, Cixi,” Lily groaned, wiping her hands on a towel. ”My two friends and I are hitting a club downtown tonight. You should come with us.”

Cixi capped a fresh boba tea for a waiting customer and slid it across the pickup counter. ”I don’t like crowds. Or loud music. Or getting drunk and having one-night stands,” Cixi replied smoothly, reciting the same list of rejections she used every time a night out was proposed. ”Not my cup of tea.”

It was a lie, but a necessary one. Her internal cursed clock always ticked toward the night at exactly 10:00 PM, and her soul would violently separate from her body.

She couldn’t risk being out at a crowded club, surrounded by drunk strangers, when her physical form suddenly collapsed into an unnatural, comatose state.

Who knew what they would do to her unconscious body? She couldn’t officially die from the curse, but her physical body could certainly still be assaulted or harmed.

”When was the last time you even went to a club, babe? Please, remind me of the specific year,” Lily commented sarcastically, pumping vanilla syrup into a tall glass.

”I saw it in movies. I just knew from watching that it wasn’t my vibe.”

”Your vibe!” Lily stated, pointing a sticky syrup spoon at her, ”screams ’Help! Someone help me!’”

For the first time all day, Cixi froze. The ice scoop was hollowed out mid-air. She stared at Lily, her heart executing a painful flip against her ribs. She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. ”Do I look like I need help?”

’How did Lily know?’ Cixi’s mind raced. She was in dire need of assistance to break this curse, yet she hadn’t shared her struggles with a soul. So how did Lily come to know? Which aspect of her carefully crafted waitress persona had inadvertently revealed her secret?

”It’s obvious, girl,” Lily sighed, entirely missing Cixi’s panic. ”You have no boyfriend. You come to work, and you go straight home. You wear loose, baggy clothes that hide your curves, and you cover up your hair every single day. Every cell in your body is screaming that you are bored and desperately want to try something new.”

Cixi let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving her shoulders in a rush. Lily was talking about her social life, not her supernatural death sentence. Thank God.

”I’m fine with being bored,” Cixi muttered, quickly finishing the iced lattes and hoisting the tray before Lily could attempt to force her into a party dress.

She pushed out from behind the counter and delivered the drinks. On her way back, she noticed a table near the front window had just been vacated. She walked over, stacking the dirty ceramic mugs and sweeping the crumbs onto her tray.

As she lifted her head to observe the street outside the glass, a familiar outline caught her eye.

Her body turned to ice.

A man was walking away from the cafe’s takeout window, holding a cardboard tray carrying two large coffees.

The broad shoulders. The military-straight posture. The sharp line of his jaw.

It was Mark. Cassian’s right-hand man. He was alive.

Cixi slammed the tray of dirty dishes back onto the table with a loud clatter that made nearby customers jump. She spun around, her black trousers swishing, and sprinted for the cafe’s glass doors.