[System ability activated.]
The metallic DING! echoed in Everly's skull, momentarily freezing her mid-step.
Her mysterious, randomly-selected power had finally decided to grace her with its presence. A frantic mental checklist began: If it was the Kiss System, she'd have to find a guinea pig for an impromptu smooch – preferably not Sylas. If it was the Gossip System, a casual touch would suffice. But the Shop System... how on earth would she test that?
Did she need to mentally conjure images of bald people, cookies, or depressed stone, those utterly useless trinkets System 006 had so enthusiastically described, to summon its ethereal storefront?
Her internal debate was cut short by a flurry of activity. The mansion doors swung open, and out glided a small army of impeccably dressed individuals – apparently, the full butler and servant contingent. The lead butler, a man whose posture was so perfect it probably had its own zip code, bowed so low he could have picked up a dropped contact lenses. He even relieved Everly of her backpack, as if it were a priceless relic.
"Welcome, Miss Everly. I'm the butler here, my name is—"
"Sebastian?"
Everly blurted out, the name escaping her lips before her brain could engage its filter.
The butler paused, his polite smile faltering into a look of profound confusion. "...?"
"Who's Sebastian, Miss? My name is Daniel Cheng."
Everly felt a flush creep up her neck. She rubbed her nose awkwardly.
Damn all those manga and webtoons for implanting 'Sebastian' as the default butler name into my subconscious!
"Ah, that... just ignore me. I was just... talking to myself."
Zack, bless his oblivious heart, was still patiently waiting by the massive, ornate front door. Sylas, meanwhile, had already vanished into the mansion's opulent depths, clearly prioritizing air conditioning over familial pleasantries.
"Come here, Everly. Come on in." Zack gestured warmly, holding the massive door open.
Everly stepped inside, her eyes immediately assaulted by a symphony of chandeliers, polished marble, and what looked suspiciously like a solid gold coat rack. The sheer opulence was breathtaking, but her attention was quickly diverted. Lounging in the cavernous living room, a small group of people sat, clearly waiting for her. Her newly activated system, whatever it was, would have to wait. She had a new family to size up.
Her initial impression of her new "family," however, was already swirling down the drain like a forgotten bath toy. She'd barely crossed the threshold, but her internal cliché-o-meter was already redlining.
They seemed to be that family – the one whose collective brain cells had apparently atrophied from years of doting on a fake daughter, conveniently forgetting their actual offspring was languishing in an orphanage. The fact that her biological parents hadn't bothered to pick her up, despite knowing their real daughter had been unceremoniously dumped, and were instead "concerned about their fake daughter's feelings," was not exactly winning them any 'Parent of the Year' awards in Everly's book.
No self-respecting human, or even a slightly-respecting human, could look at that scenario and not conclude these folks were operating on a different, far less intelligent, wavelength.
However...
Her "money brain" kicked in, a highly specialized organ that instantly activated whenever wealth was detected. The sheer opulence of the mansion, the gleaming surfaces, the general aura of "we could buy a small island if we felt like it" — it was a powerful counter-argument to her initial impulse to march right in and inform her parents they were idiots unworthy of a child as magnificent as herself. On the other hand, her inner 'cliché plot reader' was absolutely salivating at the prospect of this unfolding drama.
If they were this rich... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to temporarily overlook their blatant favoritism towards the fake daughter. As long as she got a plush room, gourmet food, and an allowance that could fund a small country's GDP, she could probably stomach it.
Surely, her real parents, despite their questionable judgment, would at least have the common sense to acknowledge she was their daughter and deserved a slice of this opulent pie, right?
With her internal financial advisor and drama critic finally reaching a tentative truce, Everly, trailing behind Zack, finally stepped into the grand living room. Her gaze swept over her biological family for the very first time, and she gasped.
She almost wished she'd brought a pair of sunglasses, or better yet, a can of matte black spray paint for her spectacles. The sheer, blinding sparkle filter effect emanating from them was so blindingly bright, she was genuinely afraid that it would permanently blind her.
The two individuals who were clearly her parents were, to put it mildly, ridiculously attractive. Her father, looked like he'd been marinated in expensive whiskey and aged to perfection. He possessed that "distinguished gentleman" vibe that made perverts of all genders want to call him "daddy."
And her mother? She looked like she'd discovered the fountain of youth and was now swimming laps in it. Elegantly beautiful, she could have walked off a movie set and onto a red carpet without a single touch-up.
Well, no wonder I'm such a stunner... With genes like these, it's practically a scientific inevitability that I'm the most popular girl in school.
Everly mused, puffing out her chest mentally.
The irony, of course, was thicker than her glasses. Everly's "popularity" stemmed less from her ethereal beauty and more from her reputation as "Barbarian Queen", "Hercules in a Sundress," or any other moniker suggesting a penchant for solving problems with her fists. But Everly, bless her narcissistic heart, firmly believed everyone was just too shy to compliment her dazzling looks. Little did she know that her thick, coke-bottle glasses were doing a remarkable job of hiding her otherwise lovely eyes, leaving most people to see her as just... average beauty.
Opposite her parents sat... wait, let her count... one, two, four... five men. Including Sylas, who was now leaning against a ridiculously expensive-looking fireplace, looking like a disgruntled supermodel. Everly's eyes felt genuinely blessed. These guys were so handsome, they could form their own K-Pop group and conquer the world. Even Sylas, annoying as he was, contributed to the overall aesthetic.
So, five brothers, huh? Not the cliché three, not the even more cliché seven, but a solid, respectable five. A good middle ground for her impending dramatic life.
As one, they all seemed to perform a synchronized "Everly-scan," their gazes raking over her from head to toe. Her parents, in particular, looked like they were trying to decipher an ancient, confusing hieroglyph.
Zack, ever the enthusiastic orchestrator, cheerfully shattered the tension, giving Everly a gentle shove that propelled her into the uncomfortable spotlight, right in front of her still-seated, silently judging family.
"Everyone, this is Everly! She's finally back with the family after all these years." He then gestured grandly. "Everly, these are your parents and your brothers!"
Her four newly-discovered brothers collectively furrowed their brows, maintaining a stoic silence that spoke volumes. Only Sylas, managed a barely audible grumble and an eye-roll so dramatic it could win an Oscar.
Everly's parents exchanged a conflicted glance, a silent battle playing out on their faces. Finally, her mother rose, moving towards Everly with a hesitant grace. Her hand hovered, as if unsure whether touching her would result in an electric shock or simply turn to dust.
"You... Everly? My daughter...?" Her voice was a fragile whisper.
Everly offered a tight, almost imperceptible nod, a half-smile playing on her lips.
"Well, according to the DNA test Uncle Zack so kindly provided, and despite any potential personal preferences you might have, yes. Unfortunately, I am your daughter."
She hadn't meant for it to come out so... caustic. A tiny, rational part of her brain screamed that she should be charming them, winning them over. But seeing their faces, a clear tableau of reluctance and barely concealed annoyance, had triggered her defensive reflexes. It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, the Barbarian Queen was back in business.
The atmosphere in the room congealed into a thick, awkward silence. The collective shock and offense radiating from her new "family" was almost palpable. Her father's brow furrowed, a hint of displeasure creeping into his tone.
"What's with that attitude of yours?" he asked, his voice laced with a subtle reprimand. "Is it because you're unhappy we didn't pick you up? We had our reasons."
Her mother, whose expression had just moments ago hinted at pity and perhaps a flicker of maternal affection, suddenly turned glacial.
"You're angry just because of that? Didn't your uncle and Sylas come to pick you up? Did you expect all of us to drop everything and come without considering we might have important business?"
Everly was utterly flabbergasted. The woman standing before her, the one who was supposed to be her mother, had just managed to ignite a firestorm of indignation within her.
At least a normal parent, even in the most dysfunctional of cliché plots, would offer a perfunctory hug, a "we're your parents," or a dramatic declaration of "you must have suffered!". But this? The awkwardness was a given, but the immediate accusation and sheer, unadulterated arrogance, as if their actions were perfectly justified despite being objectively terrible, left Everly genuinely stunned.
She'd expected this, of course, but even her internal cliché-o-meter hadn't predicted such an immediate dive into villainy. Usually, in the cliché plots, at least the mothers manage five minutes of maternal affection before the fake daughter starts her villain arc!
"Is that business," Everly asked, her voice surprisingly flat despite the volcanic eruption brewing inside her, "more important than picking up your daughter who was kidnapped at birth and whom you've only just found after seventeen years?"
She wanted to say so much more, but Zack, sensing the impending nuclear fallout, quickly stepped in. Especially when he saw Everly's mother's face flush a rather unbecoming shade of crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and rage. He gently patted her mother's shoulder, Zack's tone was soft, conciliatory – a stark departure from his earlier, booming reprimand to Sylas in the car.
"Anna, please. Stop. It's perfectly natural for Everly to feel disappointed you didn't pick her up. Even though she was sick and starving, she was really looking forward to meeting you despite everything. You should have welcomed her with hugs and smiles, not blamed her."
Uncle Zack! For the love of all that is holy, please don't mention my lie about being hungry! You're making me sound like some Dickensian waif, desperate for affection and a meat bun!
Everly screamed internally, mortified by the sudden spotlight on her rather convenient, and entirely fabricated, hunger.
"Ah, that's right," Zack mused, seemingly oblivious to Everly's inner turmoil. "I must tell Daniel to have the chef prepare something for my poor, starving niece."
With that, Zack made a hasty exit from the living room, presumably to track down the head butler and ensure Everly's fictional hunger was adequately addressed.
Meanwhile, Anna's face softened considerably at Zack's words, though a flicker of lingering indignation still danced in her eyes. The image of her daughter, who should have been swaddled in luxury, instead starving in an orphanage, seemed to finally override her pride.
She suppressed her negative feelings, forcing a gentle, if slightly strained, smile at Everly. Hesitating for a moment, as if debating the appropriate level of physical contact – a hug? A pat? – she ultimately settled on grasping Everly's hand with both of her own.
"Everly, forgive Mom. Mom just... didn't know what to do with you... And about us not picking you up... can we just forget about that? The most important thing is that you are finally back home."
Before Everly could even process Anna's rather convenient request to "forget about that," a bizarre phenomenon occurred. The moment Anna's hand touched hers, a transparent blue screen shimmered into existence directly above Anna's head, visible only to Everly. Text began to scroll across it.
[Name: Anna Tang (before: Anna Zhou)
Age: 49
Relationship: Mother]
The rest of the text was obscured by what looked like a frantic scribble, as if someone had taken a digital marker to it. Five seconds later, the initial text vanished, replaced by a single, tantalizing question:
[What kind of secret does Anna Tang keep?]
Everly's eyes widened, practically popping out of her head.
Holy moly! The one she'd randomly pointed at! It was the GOSSIP SYSTEM!
At that precise moment, Everly had no idea that the side effect of selecting the Gossip System had just activated the instant her hand made contact with Anna's.