Chapter 137 (Fixed)

Milady threw the roadmap paper straight at Ray’s chest. Ray caught it on reflex before it could flutter to the floor.

"You think your ten million followers right now are enough?" Milady said, her eyes staring cold from the sofa. "The doxxing incident, Ekaterina getting caught because Hime traced you, your stunt on Asmoldking’s podcast, all the way to rumors that you’re the one behind those weird phenomena , the public still needs one thing to fully believe you: a narrative of legitimacy."

Ray unfolded the paper, scanning the outline written in Milady’s neat yet sharp handwriting.

"I’ll write the script," Milady continued, resting her chin on her hand. "I’m going to draft a warning post on your account about an upcoming phenomenon. But right there, I’ll be the one to lay down the golden rule: no kids involved."

Milady tapped her phone screen, displaying a lineup of other top-tier influencer profiles.

"Once the public is hooked, you’ll start making moves on these big creators. Collabs, content, or pulling up to their podcasts. But you won’t show up as a regular content creator. You’re showing up as a Modern Paranormal, someone who can sense and predict these phenomena before they drop."

Milady’s smirk widened, dripping with satisfaction over her own scheme.

"Once you lock in that paranormal title and surround yourself with major influencers, every time you ’predict’ something, you’re actually injecting the Common Sense Altering System into the minds of millions watching. You make them believe, and your system rewrites reality. So, ready to be my modern witch doctor, Ray?"

Ray lowered the roadmap, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Milady.

"Alright, I get the play," Ray said, his voice heavy. "But who are we actually taking out? System holders like Hime Nature or Angelo? You know damn well if people like them drop dead or get destroyed out of nowhere, the whole country’s gonna lose its mind. The fallout’s way too brutal to handle right now."

Milady leaned back against the sofa, crossing her legs casually.

"Look at you using your brain," Milady replied, her tone laced with disdain. "That’s exactly why we need to shift targets first. Don’t waste time and energy going after system users until our foundation is rock solid."

"Yeah, yeah, got it," Ray interrupted, rolling his eyes. "So who do you want to take out first?"

Milady took a slow sip of her iced water, then met Ray’s gaze with a cold, calculating look.

"The influencer industry is a pile of trash wrapped in engagement," Milady said sharply. "From sexual predators hunting minors, to people running human trafficking rings behind closed doors, to girls selling explicit content who are actually being pimped out and extorted by scum behind the scenes. They’re our initial targets."

Milady tapped her fingers on the rim of her glass. "We clean up these scumbags first. We ruin them using your system through your influencer platform. We build influence, set up a network, and build your public immunity—until the time comes when we find the right opening to put Hime and Angelo down."

Ray let out a dry huff, tossing the paper onto the glass coffee table before crossing his arms.

"Ooh, so we’re playing vigilante now?" Ray mocked with a crooked grin. "You trying to act like some hotshot hero sweeping trash off the streets?"

Milady folded her arms across her chest, her eyes suddenly dimming—not with her usual coldness, but with a dark, obsessive flicker underneath.

"Yeah," Milady answered flatly, her voice quiet but piercing. "This is the exact reason why I refuse to give up on the fucking personality inside my head. I don’t want to see any more people suffer and bleed. I want kids to have a future... even if we have to grind sacrifices straight into the dirt to get it."

Ray went quiet. At that moment, a heavy realization hit him right between the eyes. Milady was never going to stop. Whether Ray ran to the edge of the earth, cut ties, or hid away, the crazy girl in front of him would keep bulldozing through anyone standing in her way. And the most fucked up part... somehow, Ray felt bound to her. He knew this relationship was poison, but a part of him couldn’t break free from Milady’s twisted gravity.

For a fraction of a second—just a stupid, fleeting thought—Ray pictured what it would be like if he actually married Milady. Living with a dominant, manipulative girl who carried a completely warped moral compass.

Milady’s eyes instantly narrowed. As if her mind-reading pulled it straight from his head, her expression shifted into absolute disgust.

"God, your thoughts are fucking revolting. You’re making me sick," Milady spat bitterly. Without wasting another second, she stood up, turned on her heel, and marched straight upstairs to her room.

BANG!

Milady’s door slammed shut, leaving Ray alone in the dim living room.

Ray took a deep breath and let his body sink flat onto the sofa. His eyes stared blankly up at the quiet ceiling. Rubbing his flushed face, a low chuckle escaped his throat.

"Fuck it, YOLO," Ray muttered to himself.

His exhausted brain instantly reached for the quickest escape to cope with the stress and his completely crushed pride. A dirty smirk gradually spread across his lips as he pictured Milady’s roadmap moving forward.

"Besides, if this plan actually works..." Ray rolled onto his side, lacing his hands behind his head as he visualized the endless lineup of female influencers and horn-dog targets he’d run into down the line. "...I’m gonna get plenty of chances to plow other guys’ girls. Hahaha."

He glanced down at his crotch, still aching slightly, picturing all the wild positions he’d pull off the moment his ten-million-follower stage truly opened up. The cheapest form of coping, but it was the only way Ray could still feel like he held any control in the middle of this insanity.

Morning sunlight seeped through the gap in the curtains, striking straight across Ray’s tightly closed eyes.

After a night packed with utter insanity, mental strain, and desperate sexual coping in his own head, his body had completely run out of fuel. He had passed out hard on the living room sofa—no dreams, no interruptions from the sound of the shower, and no intrusive thoughts about the system weighing on his brain. The heavy exhaustion seeped right out of his bones, replaced by a deep, dead-to-the-world sleep.

THUD!

"Get up, worm," a loud, icy voice instantly shattered his peace.

A heavy couch cushion landed square on Ray’s face. He jolted awake with a muffled curse, dragging the cushion off his sticky eyes as he struggled to pull his brain back to reality.

Milady was already standing right beside the sofa. She looked completely put together—hair tied back neatly, wearing a clean, casual coat, holding a cup of iced coffee in her left hand. She looked down at him sprawling on the cushions with zero mercy, acting like the humiliating shower scene and their heated argument from last night had never even happened.

"Five minutes," Milady said, tapping her phone screen, which already displayed the drafted warning post for Ray’s account. "Wash your face, wake your brain up, and get ready. Today, we officially open your ten-million-follower stage."