Chapter 2: Lanterns, Lies, and a Wish

There was one upside to being the cannon-fodder heiress: at least I was loaded.

That year, bored of the studio, I started dragging Chase out to sketch from life. From country roads under the moon, to the northern lights in Alaska, to the colors of the sea—we saw it all.

I’d pack up my old Jeep with art supplies, snacks, and an extra blanket, and we’d hit the road. Sometimes we’d stop at a roadside diner for pie, other times we’d camp under the stars, sketchbooks balanced on our knees. From Texas wildflowers to snowy Vermont woods, every place left its mark on us.

I watched different landscapes reflected in his eyes, slowly turning his once-stagnant gaze into sparkling spring water. The gloom that clung to him faded bit by bit. The distance between us shrank as the days passed.

One day, we visited a little town in Maine. Along the river, people were floating lanterns. Someone said, if you write your wish on a lantern, it might just come true.

The whole town was out, bundled up in flannel and puffy vests. Kids laughed, chasing each other along the docks, and couples huddled together, their breath fogging in the chilly night air. The river shimmered with the soft glow of hundreds of lanterns, each one carrying a secret hope.

I glanced at Chase. But he just looked indifferent, unmoved.

Curious, I asked, “Aren’t you going to try? They say the lanterns grant wishes.”

He shook his head. “It won’t come true.”

He spoke like he was used to it:

“I’m cursed. No one upstairs is granting me any favors.”

That made my chest tighten.

I knew why he said that. In the book, Chase’s early life was nothing but bad luck. To make the male lead’s suffering more intense, the author piled on endless darkness—family downfall, betrayal by friends, parents’ deaths… and humiliation from cannon-fodder like me. One thing after another, the whole world seemed to be pushing Chase toward madness.

Thinking of that, my heart softened. I couldn’t help but say, “Even if the universe won’t grant your wishes, you still have me.”

“Write down your wish—maybe I can help make it come true?”

Chase paused. After a while, he asked, “Any wish at all?”

I nodded. “Pretty much anything… I think?”

After all, I had money now. With enough money, most things are possible, right?

Chase didn’t say anything else. He just picked up a pen and started writing.

I instinctively took out my canvas and began sketching—first outlining the boy by the water, then his hair, then his eyes…

The river breeze tugged at his hair, and the lantern light painted soft gold along his jaw. I wanted to capture that fleeting, vulnerable look he got when he thought no one was watching.

But as I was working on his eyes, Chase suddenly looked up. Met my gaze. He was smiling gently. In the lantern light, his eyes seemed to ripple with soft, beautiful light. My heart skipped a beat.

That’s when I realized he’d finished writing his wish. On the little lantern, in neat, elegant script, it said—

“May Riley Summers always stay by my side.”

Riley Summers. That was my name in my original world.

I’d never told Chase my name. Only once, when we signed the model contract.

I couldn’t believe he’d remembered it from that brief moment.

And as the male lead, he actually wished to be with me? Just a cannon-fodder?

Did I read that right?

I was stunned. I leaned in for a closer look—and knocked over the paint, spilling it everywhere.

I hurried to wipe it off. “Sorry, sorry—I didn’t see the paint…”

Chase stiffened, but didn’t stop me. As I wiped, his breathing grew ragged. His gaze darkened. He looked at me, like he wanted to say something but held back.

That’s when it hit me—oh crap, what was I doing?

In the original, Chase hated being touched more than anything. That’s why the cannon-fodder heiress got killed!

I instantly yanked my hand back and babbled an explanation:

“Sorry! Don’t get the wrong idea, I wasn’t trying to touch you, I just wanted to clean your shirt!”

Maybe I moved too fast, like I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Chase’s face stiffened. He repeated, “You weren’t trying to touch me?”

He didn’t seem convinced, and I panicked even more.

“Don’t worry! I really did hire you just to be my figure model, nothing else! I’ll never touch you again!”

But after hearing my promise, Chase’s face darkened even more. He spoke, slow and deliberate:

“Actually, I don’t mind if you touch me…”

His voice was soft, almost pleading, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, like he was testing me.

“No, no!”

I remembered, all too well, how the male lead killed me in the book. So I spoke with total sincerity:

“We’re just business partners. I know my place. Even if you don’t mind, I definitely won’t cross any lines.”

I couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of my answer. Surely, with boundaries this clear, Chase would be satisfied.

But reality was the opposite. Chase stared at me, his eyes growing darker. He let go, and the lantern drifted away.

I panicked. “Wait, I didn’t see your wish! How can I help you make it come true?!”

“No need,” Chase said, shaking his head. “It can’t come true now.”

He stood up, his brows clouded with gloom. “But it’s fine. I can make it happen myself.”

It felt like there was a silent, unspoken ‘even if I have to use any means necessary’ at the end.

On the way back to the hotel, I was completely lost. I replayed everything, but couldn’t figure out what I’d said to upset him. No wonder he was the scheming male lead—his thoughts were impossible to read.

I had a headache. Chase went to the room next door to change. I went into mine.

I flopped onto the bed, face buried in a pillow, groaning. The room smelled faintly of detergent and old wood, the window rattling as the wind picked up outside. I wished I could just sleep and wake up with all this confusion gone.