Location: Chuck Bass's Penthouse, The Empire Hotel Year: 2011 POV: Ren (First Person)
Being reborn is strange. Being reborn into the body of a six-foot adonis with snow-white hair and blue eyes that seem to steal the light from the room is... advantageous. But being reborn into the Gossip Girl universe, a teen drama I vaguely remembered from my past life, with foreknowledge of the cryptocurrency boom and Apple stocks, is simply hilarious.
My name is Ren Ishikawa. And right now, I'm standing on the wrong side of the balcony railing of Chuck Bass's penthouse, with the Manhattan wind trying to pull me thirty stories down to the asphalt below. Champagne is still bubbling in my brain, but that's not what has me in shock.
It's the fresh, painful, brilliantly dark ink on my forearm.
Property of Blair Waldorf.
The calligraphy is elegant, imperious. Exactly like her. The cold air hits me, clearing my head a bit. How the hell did I get into this? Let's recap.
I arrived at Chuck Bass's "Back to Columbia" party as the campus's new mystery man. Nobody knew where my money came from (thanks, 2011 Bitcoin), only that it was enough to live on the Upper East Side without a trust fund or a recognizable last name. My appearance, which my new friends called "exotic" and which I called "I won the Gojo Satoru genetic lottery," opened every door for me.
The party was a classic Manhattan elite affair. Thundering music, designer dresses, and more intrigue per square foot than the Pentagon. I saw Serena van der Woodsen floating through the room, a dazzling smile for everyone, Nate Archibald just being handsome and pleasant, and Dan Humphrey in a corner, observing everyone with his characteristic literary-judgment gaze.
And then I saw her. Blair Waldorf. Queen B. She was in a heated argument with Chuck Bass near the bar. Even from a distance, the tension was palpable. She, vibrant with righteous indignation; he, with his characteristic crocodile calm, waiting for the moment to strike. I remembered their saga. The epic, toxic love that defined these people. In this era, 2011, she was engaged to a prince, Louis Grimaldi. A power move, a fairy tale she believed she deserved.
Our paths crossed when I approached the bar.
"An Old Fashioned, please," I told the bartender, my voice cutting through their argument.
Chuck looked me up and down, one eyebrow arched. Blair, however, glared at me.
"Can't you see we're in the middle of something?" she snapped.
I smiled, my most charming and, I knew, most irritating smile. "I do. But I also see an open bar and I'm thirsty. Priorities, Queen B."
The nickname surprised her. "What did you call me?"
"That's what you are, isn't it? The queen bee of this hive. Though you seem a little... bored."
Her mouth opened and closed. Nobody talked to her like that. Chuck let out a deep, dark laugh. "I like this one. He's got guts. I'm Chuck Bass."
"Ren Ishikawa. A pleasure."
Blair scoffed. "Arrogance is not a substitute for class, Ishikawa. Now, if you'll excuse us, my... friend and I were talking."
"Sure. But let me guess," I said, leaning on the bar and looking directly at her. "You're frustrated. You have the prince, the title, the fairy tale. But the prince is predictable, right? He doesn't challenge you. He doesn't make your blood boil like... well, like him."
I gestured to Chuck with my chin. The silence that followed was thick. Blair's expression shifted from anger to a vulnerability she hid in an instant. Chuck looked at me with a new kind of interest.
"You're observant," Blair said, her voice a dangerous whisper.
"It's my superpower," I replied with a smile. "That and knowing when to buy shares of a small streaming company called Netflix."
The night went on. We drank. A lot.
Location: A secluded corner of the penthouse. POV: Third Person
Blair Waldorf didn't know what to make of Ren Ishikawa. He was exasperating. His confidence was absolute, almost unnatural. He didn't flatter her like the other boys, nor did he challenge her for power like Chuck. He simply saw her, and seemed amused by what he saw.
She found him later, observing the city from a window.
"Enjoying the view?" she said, approaching him.
"Always. Especially when it's full of lights and secrets," he replied, turning to face her. "Are you done pretending your engagement makes you happy?"
Blair crossed her arms. "And you, are you done being an insufferable jerk?"
Ren laughed, a genuine, relaxed sound. "Touché. Hey, this party is a bore. It's the same people, the same dramas. Let's do something memorable."
"Like what? Criticize Serena's shoes? Already did that."
"No. Something... permanent. Something that says 'I was here, and I didn't care about anything'."
The idea, born from alcohol and a growing mutual fascination, blossomed dangerously. Chuck, in an act of pure hedonism, had hired a famous tattoo artist to do "private work" for his bolder guests in one of the suites.
"I dare you," Ren said, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "A tattoo. Right now."
Blair looked at him, scandalized and, to her horror, tempted. It was the antithesis of everything her life with Louis represented. It was impulsive. It was vulgar. It was... Chuck. No, it was something new.
"And what would we get tattooed, genius?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ren smiled. "Property. You're the Queen, aren't you? You like to own things. People. Well, tonight, you own me. And I own you. A pact of madness in the midst of the farce."
It was the most ridiculous and romantic thing she had ever heard.
Location: Penthouse Balcony. POV: Ren (First Person)
And that's how I ended up here. With fresh ink on my skin and a blurry memory of needles, muffled laughter, and Blair Waldorf's dangerously close face. I look at my forearm again. Property of Blair Waldorf. My God. It's real.
The balcony door bursts open. It's her. Her hair is a little messy, and in her eyes burns a fury that could set the Hudson River on fire.
"YOU!" she screams, and on her wrist, just below the delicate Cartier watch, I see the same dark, fresh calligraphy that adorns my arm.
Property of Ren Ishikawa.
I jump down from the railing with an agile leap, landing softly in front of her.
"Nice, right?" I say, trying to sound nonchalant, though my heart is pounding. "They match."
"They match?! ISHIKAWA! Do you realize what we've done?! This is permanent! It's on my SKIN!"
"Technically, it's on our skins," I correct, pointing to my arm.
She paces back and forth like a caged lioness. "I have to go to a charity gala with Louis's family next week! They're royalty! I can't have 'Property of Ren Ishikawa' tattooed on my wrist!"
I can't help it. I laugh. A loud, honest laugh.
"ARE YOU LAUGHING?!" she shrieks, stopping to glare at me.
"It's just perfect. It's so... us. Or at least, what we've been for the past three hours. Chaos and bad decisions, with style."
She looks at me, and for a second, the fury in her eyes softens, replaced by a kind of amused panic. She sighs, running a hand over her forehead.
"This is a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. Besides..."
She stops, as if forcing herself to remember something important.
"Besides, what?" I ask, moving a little closer.
She lifts her chin, her Queen B mask returning. "Besides, I have a boyfriend. I have a prince. This..." she says, gesturing between us, the tattoos, the crackling tension— "means nothing."
It's the ultimate denial phrase. I know it because I've seen it in the show. It's her defense mechanism.
And then, as if the director of this cosmic drama had the best sense of humor in the world, it happens.
Location: Main living area of the penthouse. POV: Third Person
Serena and Nate were chatting near the stairs when Chuck Bass descended from the upper floor. He wasn't alone. A stunning model, in a dress that was more absence than fabric, clung to his arm, laughing at something he whispered in her ear. Chuck paid no attention to anyone, his face a mask of calculated indifference.
But his eyes, for a split second, sought Blair.
Just then, Blair stepped into the main living area from the balcony, Ren following closely behind her.
The scene froze.
Blair's voice, saying "...I have a boyfriend," still hung in the air between her and Ren. But now her eyes were fixed on Chuck. She saw the model. She saw the way he kissed her, a public, deliberate, cruel kiss, before guiding her towards one of the guest rooms and closing the door with a definitive click.
The blow was visible. Blair's face paled, the Queen's composure cracking, revealing the hurt girl beneath. The pain in her eyes was deep, an abyss she knew too well.
Serena rushed to her side. "B? Are you okay?"
Blair didn't answer. Her eyes met Ren's. He didn't look at her with pity, as Nate would, nor with the curious gaze of a drama vulture, like the rest of the party. He looked at her with a strange mix of amusement and... understanding. As if he saw all the ridiculous tragedy of the moment and found it fascinating.
POV: Ren (First Person)
There it is. Gossip Girl drama in all its glory. The declaration of loyalty to her absent boyfriend, immediately followed by the public betrayal from her true, tortured love. It's almost poetic.
Blair looks at me, her vulnerability on full display. Then, like a switch, the armor returns. The wound is covered in ice. She turns to me, and her voice is low and firm.
"You. Tomorrow. At 12 o'clock. At the cafe across from the Met. We need to plan how to get rid of... this," she says, shaking her tattooed wrist.
I nod slowly, a smile forming on my lips. "Sure, Waldorf. Whatever the owner says."
She gives me one last look, an indecipherable mix of hatred, panic, and something else—something dangerously akin to complicity—before turning and walking away with Serena on her heels.
I'm left alone in the middle of the social whirlwind. I feel the buzzing of iPhones around me. The news is already spreading. The new guy, the tattoo, the Chuck and Blair drama. I know what comes next.
Sure enough, my phone vibrates. And everyone else's in the room. A mass notification lights up the dimness.
Spotted: Queen B playing mark-your-territory. But not on her usual King. A new, mysterious white-haired gentleman (literally) now sports the Waldorf brand. But is it an acquisition or a distraction? As B got inked, Chuck Bass proved his assets are always in play. Things are getting permanent on the Upper East Side, and we're not just talking about ink. Who will end up owning whom?You know you love me.XOXO, Gossip Girl.
I look at my phone, then my forearm. Property of Blair Waldorf.
I smile.
This is going to be a lot more fun than I thought.