Chapter 3

The Vance Gallery was exactly as I remembered it, a monument to Eleanor' s ambition built on my stolen dreams. The main hall was a stark white space with impossibly high ceilings, a design I had sketched in a notebook when I was sixteen, a design she had claimed as her own inspiration. Tonight, it was filled with the city' s elite, a sea of expensive suits and glittering dresses.

I felt out of place in my simple, off-the-rack suit, but this time, it was a deliberate choice. I wasn't here to impress anyone. I was here to cause a scene.

I spotted them almost immediately. Eleanor was a vision in a blood-red dress, her laughter echoing as she held court near the center of the room. Liam Stone stood beside her, looking handsome and endearingly awkward, a sculpture of his, a twisted figure of bronze, displayed prominently nearby. They were the perfect couple, the artist and his muse. The sight of them together still sent a shard of cold, familiar pain through my chest, but it was now overlaid with a cold, hard resolve.

I moved to the bar and got a glass of red wine. The liquid sloshed, dark and ominous in the crystal glass. My heart was pounding a steady, nervous rhythm against my ribs. This was it. The first step.

[System reminder: Mission objective is to spill a drink on Liam Stone. Proximity is optimal. Proceed.]

I took a deep breath and started walking towards them. I threaded my way through the crowd, my eyes locked on my target. Just as I got close, Eleanor turned and saw me. Her perfectly made-up face registered a brief, almost imperceptible flash of annoyance before settling into a mask of pleasant surprise.

"Ethan? What a surprise to see you here!" she called out, her voice loud enough for those around them to hear. "I didn' t know you were interested in the art scene."

It was a subtle dig, a way of marking me as an outsider.

"I heard you were honoring a great artist tonight," I said, my voice level. "I wanted to see his work for myself." I looked at Liam, who offered me a friendly, open smile.

"It' s a pleasure to meet you," Liam said, extending a hand. "I' m Liam Stone."

"Ethan Miller," I said, ignoring his hand.

Eleanor' s smile tightened at my rudeness. "Ethan is my nephew," she explained to Liam, a hint of apology in her tone. "My late sister' s boy." She made it sound like a burden she was graciously carrying.

Here was my chance. The crowd was watching. The stage was set.

I feigned a stumble, lurching forward as if I had been bumped from behind. The red wine flew from my glass in a perfect arc, splashing all over the front of Liam' s pristine white shirt.

Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

The wine spread like a fresh wound across the fabric.

"Oh my god," I said, my voice full of fake panic. "I am so, so sorry. I' m so clumsy."

Liam looked down at his ruined shirt, stunned. "It' s... it' s alright. An accident."

But Eleanor was not so forgiving. Her face, which had been a mask of social grace, was now a thundercloud of fury. She grabbed a napkin from a passing waiter and began dabbing uselessly at the stain on Liam' s shirt.

"An accident? Ethan, look what you' ve done!" she hissed, her voice low but sharp with anger. "This is a custom shirt! Do you have any idea how careless you are?"

The people around us started murmuring. I could hear whispers of "Who is that kid?" and "So disrespectful."

I had to play my part to the end. I looked at Eleanor, my expression a mixture of shame and what I hoped looked like jealous resentment. "I didn' t mean to. I was just trying to get a closer look at him."

My words hung in the air, ripe with unintended meaning. Eleanor' s eyes narrowed. She saw it not as an accident, but as an attack. A pathetic, jealous outburst. Which was exactly what the System wanted.

Liam, ever the gentleman, tried to defuse the situation. "Eleanor, please. It' s just a shirt. Let' s not make a scene."

"He' s the one making a scene!" she shot back, her voice rising. She turned her glare on me, her public facade completely gone, revealing the cold, controlling woman I knew so well. "You are an embarrassment, Ethan. I think you should leave. Now."

She pointed towards the exit, her finger trembling with rage. It was a public dismissal, a humiliation. In my past life, this would have shattered me. I would have mumbled an apology and fled, my face burning with shame.

But this time, I held her gaze. I let them all see me as the villain she was painting me to be.

[Mission Complete. Reward: +5 Health Points. Current Health: 105/100.]

[New Mission available: Verbally provoke Eleanor Vance at a family dinner. Objective: Incite her to slap you.]

I turned without another word and walked away, the whispers of the crowd following me like a shadow. As I reached the grand entrance, I glanced back. Liam was trying to calm Eleanor down, his hand on her arm. She was still glaring in my direction, but Liam was looking at her with a new expression. It wasn't just admiration anymore. It was concern. Pity.

The System was right. My villainy was pushing them closer. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was the price of my survival. And my revenge.