Chapter 8: Smart as I Am

What kind of classic Mary Sue drama setup was this?

Did it have to be this dramatic? Why on earth did he have to pour wine all over him?

It didn't make any sense!

Evan shook his head in disbelief. "This kind of scene shouldn't be happening to me. The only ones who pour wine over CEOs are brainless, sweet secretaries in novels."

[But there's no way Theo would ever hire a brainless, sweet secretary.]

"That still doesn't mean it has to be me!"

[This is punishment—for Theo's meddling in true love.]

"Are you sure this is a punishment for him and not me? What did I even do wrong? I'm just a regular, unremarkable cannon fodder!"

While Evan was arguing with the system, Theo had already walked right past him—heading straight for Hane behind him. The two clinked glasses and started quietly discussing something.

"The new AI product has to work well in residential settings. The resort is just to boost brand visibility. Daran said we can outsource the venue to variety shows in a few days."

"If things go smoothly, the first two months could see a return of around… What are you doing?"

Evan stood there holding his wine glass, forcing a stiff smile. "You guys… talking business?"

"Yeah."

"…"

Evan sheepishly took a step back. "Okay then. I'll leave you to it."

Suddenly, his brain was assaulted by a blaring siren. It was as if the system was screaming directly into his ear:

[MISSION! MISSION! Abandoning the mission will result in an electric shock penalty!]

Evan clutched his head in pain. "I never said I was giving up! I'm just… planning my next move. If I throw it now, it'll be way too obvious."

The system seemed placated and fell silent. Evan let out a long sigh of relief and hid behind the chocolate fountain, munching on a banana dipped in chocolate, all the while trying to figure out how to soak Theo without getting punched by Hane.

Actually, even if Hane didn't beat him up, Theo probably would. His face was practically broadcasting bad intentions.

"What if," Evan muttered, "I tried a different method? Like… I knock over the chocolate fountain and drench Theo from head to toe. That'd be more humiliating than just spilling wine."

[You could've died a quick death. Instead, you chose one with a thousand cuts.]

Evan went quiet and stuffed a mini cake into his mouth. His cheeks puffed up like a hamster, and with one hand holding a cake and the other using a napkin to catch crumbs, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby tray.

Whatever. Whether he hesitated or not, he was going down. Might as well make it quick—rip off the bandage.

With that thought, Evan made a sudden dash.

Theo was in the middle of discussing next quarter's project assignments when a flash of white darted toward him. Before he could even react, a plastic sheet was thrown over his head.

There's an assassin!

His body jerked back instinctively. He was just about to fight back when something lightly smacked his face. The next moment, the plastic was yanked off, and only a few drops of water landed on his face.

Then, he saw Evan's figure darting away like lightning—running while apologizing and bowing at the same time.

Sometimes, Theo couldn't help but admire Evan. Like a wild boar charging through a party full of guests and catering stations, the guy managed not to knock over anything. That kind of control? Only Evan could pull it off…

Wait. Why did he throw a plastic sheet over me?

Hane stood frozen with a wine glass in hand, still trying to process what just happened.

"Who just… ran through here?"

"Your brother."

"Mm."

Hane took a deep breath. "I should probably book him a doctor's appointment."

"They're all gonna think I'm an idiot!" Evan raged in a corner, grinding his teeth. "Who the hell does something like that?!"

[Not an idiot—a moron.]

"…Seriously, I'm gonna lose it."

He wandered off to a quiet spot, took off his bowtie, and started fiddling with it absentmindedly. His thoughts were all over the place. Then he waved down a waiter and asked, "Could you bring me a few egg tarts?"

The waiter, who had just seen Evan clear out half the buffet: "A few? Like… four?"

"Eight," Evan said, holding up eight fingers. He patted his belly. All the food here looked plentiful, but each serving was basically one bite per giant plate.

"You've got a great appetite."

"Huh?" Evan turned to see a flamboyant man in a bright red suit beside him. His tie was a bold leopard print, and his white shoes reflected like mirrors.

"The name's Leren Smith," the man said with flair, extending a hand. "Heir of Stars Tech. And you are? I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Evan."

"Ah!" Leren's face lit up. "You're that Evan—the sharp-tongued second young master of the Wells family."

"Wow, thanks for calling me a thorn in the side."

The waiter brought over the egg tarts and placed them in front of Evan. He was generous enough to hand one each to the waiter and Leren, then hungrily dug into the remaining six himself.

The Wells family's pastry chef really knew their craft—these were heavenly. Evan devoured them in two bites each, chewing quickly yet silently, with surprisingly elegant manners. One hand held the tart while the other caught crumbs with a napkin.

Leren, seeing this display, bit into his own tart curiously.

Tasted… pretty normal.

"You don't like the flavor?" Evan asked, wiping his fingers.

"With this kind of sugar-oil combo, best not to overdo it."

"Picky eater, huh."

Evan picked up a knife and fork and cut off the piece Leren had bitten from. His cut was precise, trimming off a small, neat crescent along the bite mark, leaving a half-moon gap in the round egg tart.

To his credit, he wasn't the least bit grossed out—he simply forked up the trimmed piece and popped it into his mouth.

"Even rich people shouldn't waste food like that. When you're truly starving, you'll eat anything," he said.

Evan's skin had once been slightly yellowish, and his hair dry and brittle—signs of a childhood spent in poverty. Years of malnutrition, odd jobs, and sun exposure had left his face tanned and grimy year-round. But beneath the clothes, his skin was pale as snow.

The original owner of this body had looked exactly like Evan—same features, same frame. The difference was, the original had grown up pampered and sheltered, barely seeing any sunlight. His skin was almost translucent, glowing white when the light hit him just right, like he was made of snow.

And now, that snow-white face was wearing the weathered, jaded expression of a corporate wage slave who'd been steamrolled by life.

Leren was momentarily speechless and raised his glass in salute.

Evan lifted his glass in return and used the drink to wash down the last of the egg tart, finally letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Whew, that was close. Thought I was gonna starve to death."

"Why are you sitting here all alone? Why not go hang out with your big brother?"

"He's talking business. What would I even do there?"

Evan slumped back in his seat, hands tucked into his pockets, turning himself into a pile of boneless mush. "I wouldn't understand any of it, and I wouldn't be of any help anyway. I'd rather just be a useless couch potato."

"…Charming life philosophy," Leren muttered dryly.

"What about you? Why aren't you out there socializing?"

"I'm the youngest in my family. Nobody expects anything from me."

"Then we're the same!" Evan tugged at the corner of Leren's flashy jacket. "But you're dressed so loud and sitting so stiff—don't you get tired? Lean back like this, it's way more comfortable. Learn from me."

Like hell I'm the same as a lazy couch potato like you.

Leren pursed his lips in protest, but his body betrayed him. He mimicked Evan's posture and leaned back.

Oh.

Damn, that's comfy.

Meanwhile, Hane was searching all over for his little brother. Eventually, he found two piles of boneless mush slouched in a corner.

Evan didn't even bother wondering whether he'd pissed someone off or if Hane had come to deal with him. He lived by the motto: "As long as you're not dead, everything's fine." He only ever got nervous right before doing something shady. But now that the deed was done, he was perfectly content and had even drifted off into a pleasant little nap.

That dream didn't last long, though—someone popped his dream bubble.

He opened his eyes to see Hane's deathly serious face staring down at him.

The next second, Evan was yanked up by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten. Hane lifted him right off the seat, and Evan, eyes half open, gave him a glance… then slowly closed his eyes again.

His brow relaxed, lips curled in a smile—he looked like he was truly at peace.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hane asked.

"Your expression was terrifying. I needed to reboot."

Hane inhaled deeply, voice laced with warning. "I'm gonna count to three."

Evan snapped his eyes open immediately—but didn't dare look at him. He hung his head low, shoulders hunched, posture screaming: I'm just a harmless little quail, here to humbly receive my lecture.

Hane had seen that look way too many times lately—submissive, obedient… and completely unrepentant.

He said, "What is wrong with you today? Why did you pick a fight with Theo?"

"I just… couldn't help myself…"

"You doused him in wine. And you even had the courtesy to shield him with a plastic sheet. Should I praise you for your thoughtfulness?"

Evan grinned sheepishly. "Heh, well—don't, really, I just—"

"Did I say I was complimenting you?!"

The little quail instantly went silent, head drooping again like a guilty student.

"Go apologize."

[WARNING! WARNING! Apologizing counts as mission failure.]

The little quail flinched. Then, like a proud white swan, he lifted his chin defiantly and said, "No!"

"You going or not?"

"I'm not!" Evan declared, firm and fearless. "I don't need to apologize for something I chose to do!"

Though, to be fair… Theo did get the short end of the stick, literally.

In his heart, Evan offered three deep bows to Theo—as a form of silent apology.

"If you don't go, I'm gonna tell Uncle John to haul out all the junk you've been hiding in the garage—"

"But it was my fault! I'll go take responsibility right now!"

Evan instantly switched to a toadying grin. "Big bro, have mercy. Our community's rolling out trash-sorting soon, and those cardboard boxes and cans are the last batch I was saving up."

Hane looked at him and felt a headache blooming. He waved his hand, shooing away this walking karmic disaster.