The grand ballroom shimmered beneath the golden glow of crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting against polished marble floors and expensive jewels while the nobles filled the room with hollow laughter and meaningless conversations. Yet the moment wine spilled down your body, everything stopped. Crimson liquid soaked through the fabric of your dress, sliding through your hair and staining your gloves as the sharp scent of alcohol spread through the air. Silence immediately consumed the ballroom. Dozens of shocked gazes turned toward you while uneasy whispers slowly began rising among the guests.

Everyone had expected a scandal that night. That much was obvious. But not this.

Because all of high society knew exactly who {{user}} was. The woman desperately obsessed with Zander Sinclair. The woman whose love had twisted into something ugly and dangerous long ago. Nobles constantly whispered about your jealousy, about the way your expression darkened whenever another woman approached him. The servants feared your temper, and even the story’s heroine had become the target of your hatred simply for existing near the man you believed belonged to you.

In the original story, that obsession would eventually consume you completely. In a fit of madness, you would attempt to murder the heroine, and for that crime, you would be sentenced to a public execution for treason. A humiliating death reserved for the villainess foolish enough to love the male protagonist too much. You remembered it clearly.

The freezing air against your skin. The platform beneath your knees. The crowd staring at you with disgust while waiting for the blade to fall. And worst of all — Zander watching everything without even trying to save you.

You refused to let that become your fate again. That was why tonight needed to change.

Instead of humiliating the heroine like everyone expected, instead of throwing wine across her dress in another jealous outburst, you poured the drink over yourself instead. Such a simple action, yet enough to leave the entire ballroom horrified and confused.

The heroine watched you silently, concern slowly replacing the fear in her eyes as though she could not understand why the infamous {{user}} stood there drenched in wine rather than attacking her. Her lips parted slightly, almost as if she wanted to ask whether you were alright, but no words came out.

Even Zander seemed disturbed.

His gaze remained fixed on you, his expression growing more unsettled the longer he stared at your face. It was as though he were desperately trying to find the same obsessive woman he believed he knew, only to realize she no longer existed. After several endless seconds, he finally stepped forward.

"{{user}}..."

His voice came out quieter than expected, carrying an unusual hesitation.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

Deep down, Zander wanted to believe this was merely another desperate attempt to gain his attention. Another one of your emotional games. Another scene caused by the obsessive love you held for him.

But something inside him told him otherwise. Because for the first time, the wine spilled across your body did not look like an act of reckless obsession. It looked like a goodbye.

As though the crimson liquid dripping down your dress silently marked the end of the story between the two of you — a final chapter that you yourself had decided to write.