Chapter 1: The 99% Betrayal

When my progress with Carter Westbrook hit 99%, he finally talked me into bed.

Back then, I really believed this was it—the moment I’d been waiting for. The finish line finally in sight. The last piece sliding into place. I can still see the way his eyes caught the moonlight, glinting with something unreadable. The way his hands moved—too practiced, too sure. Was I just imagining it? But then, before I could even catch my breath, the system’s shrill alarm shattered the moment.

[Host, ouch, that didn’t go over well. He just tanked your score from 99% to 60%.]

My heart plummeted. I spiraled, desperate to figure out what I’d done wrong, what I could fix.

The panic was suffocating, like being caught in a riptide. No shore in sight. No way out. I lay awake that night, scrolling through endless advice columns and forums, my fingers numb, searching for some secret I’d missed. I couldn’t shake the thought that I’d failed at the most important moment.

Until I overheard him bragging to his friends:

“Emily Cross still doesn’t know I can control her affection progress however I want. It’s like breaking in a puppy—if she does well, I bump up the score as a reward; if she messes up, I drop it to force her to change. First time in bed, I wasn’t satisfied, so I knocked it down to 60%. No doubt she’s probably obsessing right now about how to please me better next time!”

A burst of laughter. It echoed out from the private room.

I stood outside the door, feeling like I’d been dropped into an ice-cold cellar. My breath caught, heart hammering.

The hallway was dim, the air thick with the scent of spilled whiskey and expensive cologne. My hands shook as I pressed them to my sides, nails digging crescent moons into my palms. Three days. That’s all it took to shatter everything. Just three days ago, I was still lost in the fantasy that my mission was about to succeed.

Carter’s affection score for me had reached 99%.

Just one last step and I’d win.

That night, Carter held me close, his voice low and husky:

“Emily, I want you.”

He said true love meant unity of body and soul. I remember thinking—does he really believe that, or is it just another line? His stormy blue eyes locked on mine, voice so gentle I almost let myself believe. I nodded, giving in, letting myself sink into his embrace and the press of his skin against mine.

With this new level of intimacy, I thought I’d finally complete the mission and return to my own world.

But I never expected—

When it was over, his affection score for me plummeted to 60%.

Barely passing.

I couldn’t understand why. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I’d let him down.

I replayed every moment, every word, every touch. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, cataloging my supposed failures. The memories pressed in, sharp and cold. Turns out, it was all just part of his training routine.

Inside the room, the laughter kept going.

I heard someone tease:

“If anyone knows how to train a woman, it’s Carter! With a cheat like that, handling Emily is a breeze!”

“Of course,” Carter replied with a smug grin. “These mission girls will do anything to push the affection score to 100%. Like just now, I just frowned at her tacky white underwear and then lowered her score. Next time, she’ll probably show up in black stockings, trying every trick to please me.”

“Damn, that’s genius! Carter, you’re something else!”

“Who’s the real genius here?”

A girl sitting beside Carter batted her eyes playfully.

She had that kind of confidence that made everyone else fade into the background. Like she knew exactly how much power she held. “I taught him. If you want to really control a woman, you have to mess with her emotions, make her doubt herself. When she’s about to break, give her a little sweetness, and then she’s completely under your thumb.”

“You little schemer.”

Carter tapped her forehead, his tone almost fond.

He’d mentioned her to me before. Her name was Vanessa Monroe—an hourglass figure and bedroom eyes. She was a well-known hostess here.

She wore a cherry-red dress that hugged every curve, and her laughter rang out, bright and sharp, like the clink of ice in a glass. I felt a sharp pang—envy, maybe, or just the sting of being on the outside looking in. The crowd egged them on.

“Wow, Carter, you’ve got beauties on both sides. Living the dream.”

“Emily’s hardly a prize. She’s so awkward.”

He pulled Vanessa onto his lap, his hand sliding boldly along her thigh. I flinched, stomach twisting. His touch was possessive, practiced. Vanessa didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she melted into it, her arm looping around his neck. “Being with Vanessa, now that’s the real deal.”

She leaned into his arms, laughing as she playfully punched his chest.

“Liar. If you like me so much, why bother with her? Am I not good enough for you?”

Carter answered shamelessly, “I need a good wife and mother, and a loyal pet. Besides, she’s been trying to win me over for so long, I almost feel sorry for her.”

He looked at Vanessa. I saw it—desire, clear as day, flickering in his eyes.

“But if we’re talking about what really excites me, it’s you, little temptress.”

The two of them got more and more tangled up, drawing another round of teasing from the group.

Someone whistled, another tossed out a half-drunk, “Get a room, you two!” The music from the club’s main floor thudded through the walls, but their laughter sliced right through it all.

“Carter, aren’t you afraid Emily will just give up?”

“No way,” Carter said, completely confident. “Every time she wants to quit, I just bump her affection score back up to 99%. Just one percent short—she’ll never walk away. I’ll keep her hanging, always chasing, always under my control.”

A suffocating pressure built in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like someone had wrapped a belt around my lungs and pulled tight. He was right. To get that affection score to 100%, I was willing to do anything.

I wanted to go home so badly.

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer—only two months left to live.

Two months. That’s all I had left.

That’s when I received the system’s invitation.

Complete a mission in a simulated world, and I could return to reality, healthy again.

I agreed without hesitation.

Like a castaway grabbing a life raft, I threw myself into the mission, heart and soul.

If raising Carter’s affection score meant losing my pride, becoming whoever he wanted, I’d do it.

For three years, every time the score dropped, I’d obsessively review everything, searching for what I’d done wrong. I’d fix it, test it, and if the score went up, I knew I’d gotten it right.

I had spreadsheets, color-coded journals, even mood boards. Pages and pages, all covered in notes. My life became a science experiment with one variable: Carter’s affection.

That’s how I became his perfect girlfriend, inching the affection score up to 99%.

This time was no different.

I thought if I just studied up on bedroom tricks and made Carter happy, I could win back his affection.

So I went all out—watching YouTube tutorials, reading romance novels, even buying books on the subject.

I even bought actual textbooks—The Complete Guide to Sexology and more. Who does that? I treated sex like a research project.

I even made flashcards. I practiced lines in the mirror, tried on lingerie under my pajamas, googled “how to drive a man wild” at two in the morning. Honestly, I probably looked ridiculous. But reading wasn’t enough. I went to nightclubs to observe how men and women flirted.

I was just walking past a private room. Then I heard his voice—Carter’s little speech.

I’d come to the club to learn about seduction.

Now, I’d changed my mind.