Against the Algorithm

Chapter 47: More Than Enough

Jinyang gave him a scowl. "You're welcome, by the way. That whole moment of 'rage-glare from possessive boyfriend across the room while kitten declares war' gave me three full ideas for a novella."

Yao groaned softly, pressing her palms into her face. "I live in chaos."

"No, you live in a base full of men," Jinyang corrected, smug once again. "Chaos is inevitable."

"And now you're fueling it," Yao muttered.

"With style."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yao let out a long, slow sigh—the kind that carried not just the weight of resignation but the exhausted patience of someone who had, once again, been dragged into a whirlwind crafted by two equally unhinged forces of nature. She turned, hazel eyes lifting and locking onto one person in particular.

Lu Sicheng.

Who was still standing near the wall, arms crossed, one ankle casually tucked over the other, radiating smugness and sulking satisfaction in equal measure.

She narrowed her eyes. "I want you," she said evenly, pointing a finger directly at him, "to tell your best friend that I'm disappointed in him."

Sicheng blinked. "For what now?"

"For sinking to Jin-er's level of mischief," she replied, giving him the most tragically disappointed look she could muster. "He knew. He knew that corset wasn't going to survive an hour here and still went along with her stunt." She gave a soft, sad sigh. "And I expected more from him."

"He'll be heartbroken." Sicheng raised a brow, mouth twitching faintly.

"I hope he is."

"Want me to tell him you're deeply disappointed?" he asked, biting the inside of his cheek.

Yao narrowed her gaze further. "I want you to tell him I sighed like a heroine in a tragic play and handed the box back to Jinyang in full theatrical sorrow."

"...Got it."

She turned slowly, holding the box with the corset and skirt like it was a cursed relic, and handed it to Jinyang with an expression of pure, worn-out despair. "Take it. Take it and tell your evil twin in chaos that we are not amused."

"That's fair. But I will be wearing this next week, and I will send a photo to Kun Hyeok just to rub it in." Jinyang cackled, taking the box with flourish and tucking it beneath her arm.

Ai Jia groaned. "He'll put it on a mug."

"Let him."

Yao just pressed her hands together like she was praying for strength.

Da Bing let out a grunt of approval.

Xiao Cong meowed once, then dramatically curled back into a ball like the war had been won.

And Sicheng?

He sent a message to Kun Hyeok with only three words:
She's disappointed in you.

And five seconds later, got a reply.
Tell her I'm honored.
Followed by a smug gif of a bow.

Yao huffed, turning back toward her desk with purpose—chin slightly raised, braid swinging behind her like the war banner of a woman pushed too far by two chaotic men and one instigating best friend. She sat down, unlocked her phone with practiced precision, and opened her chat with Kun Hyeok, fingers flying across the screen with a speed that suggested she was very much done.