Chapter 3

During the first week of the game, I did absolutely nothing.

I went to work, came home, lived my life as usual.

Sera and Dempsey’s dates became more frequent.

She no longer hid anything from me, sometimes doing her makeup and getting ready to go out right in front of me.

“I won’t be home for dinner tonight.”

She would inform me.

“Okay, have fun.”

I would reply.

My calmness surprised her, even unsettling her a little.

The arguments, interrogations, and emotional turmoil she’d expected never materialized.

I was merely a mild observer, watching her perform.

One evening, she was getting ready to go out again.

I sat on the sofa, reading.

She changed into a beautiful dress and came to stand before me.

“Michael, do you really not care?”

I looked up from my book.

“Care about what? Where you and Dempsey go, or what you do?”

I countered.

She said nothing.

“Our game is a battle of wills, isn’t it?” I said.

“If I interfere with your actions out of jealousy or possessiveness, then I’ve already lost.”

She was convinced by my logic. Or rather, she was convinced by her own theory.

She couldn't refute me, because to do so would be to contradict herself.

“What… what are you reading?”

She changed the subject.

I showed her the book cover.

The Second Sex.

“Simone de Beauvoir. From your bookshelf,” I said.

“I wanted to understand your world better.”

Sera’s gaze softened slightly.

She probably thought I was trying to align myself with her world.

She was wrong.

I wasn't trying to understand her world.

I was searching for the weapon to destroy it.

After she left, I opened my laptop and searched for “Dempsey Reed.”

There wasn't much information.

A few scattered art exhibition reports, a couple of self-aggrandizing art reviews.

But one piece of information caught my eye.

Dempsey Reed’s father, Arthur Reed.

A well-known real estate developer.

Dempsey owned a cultural media company, and its biggest shareholder was Arthur Reed.

This company consistently operated at a loss, kept alive solely by “project collaborations” from Arthur Reed’s other businesses.

In short, it was just a toy company Arthur Reed had set up for his “artist” son.

Just another rich kid playing at being an artist with his dad's money.

I printed out these documents and placed them in a manila envelope.

Then, I sent Sera a message.

“Honey, are you free tomorrow? I’d like to take you and Mr. Reed out for dinner.”

She replied quickly:

“Yes. Why?”

I texted back:

“To celebrate our game entering a new phase.”

Sera brought Dempsey.

The restaurant I chose was an expensive French place.

As soon as Dempsey walked in, he subtly frowned.

“Eating in a place like this is so superficial,” he murmured to Sera.

I heard him but pretended not to.

“Please, sit.”

I pulled out chairs for them.

“Michael, why are you being so formal today? What exactly are you trying to do?”

Sera frowned.