Broken Masks and Hidden Hearts

Chapter 1

Evelyn Bright had spent her entire life in the shadow of her arch-enemy, Alaric Stone. He was the epitome of the perfect child in every textbook—the golden boy who haunted every neighborhood kid’s dreams, making them look bad in comparison.
However, upon returning from her studies abroad, Evelyn was shocked to learn that The Stone Consortium had fallen into turmoil. Alaric, once the celebrated darling of the family, had been revealed as a fraud—a mere adopted child of the Stone family with no legitimate claim to their fortune. The rumors of his status sent shockwaves through their elite neighborhood, leaving everyone to wonder if he was about to lose everything.
After mulling it over, Evelyn decided that it was time to teach Alaric a lesson. She thought she’d revel in the idea of humbling him like he once did to her, ensuring he’d never be so arrogant again.  But in a twist of fate, Alaric seemed to lose the will to fight back before she could even set her plan in motion.
---
Initially.
Evelyn Bright: "Looks like all those years of pretending you're something you’re not have finally caught up with you."
Alaric Stone: "Yeah, a phony like me was bound to face the music sooner or later."
As time passed.
Evelyn Bright: "Hey, you really don’t need to think so poorly of yourself..."
Alaric Stone: "No, you’re right. I’ll never aspire to have what doesn’t belong to me again."
Eventually.
Evelyn Bright: "I’ve told you before, no matter what happens, I've never looked down on you."
Alaric Stone: "Really? Then why won’t you even consider getting that marriage certificate with me?"
---
Suddenly, Evelyn found herself hastily inching towards marrying him, and all at once, she realized Alaric’s intentions were perhaps to con her into marriage.
Alaric: "Oh, with a naive girl like you? I could trick ten of you at once."
Yet, Alaric had no interest in any other naive girls.
He had known Evelyn for sixteen years, loving her for seven of those. Starting when they were just nine, they bonded over homework, fun adventures, and he let her run wild in his most private spaces.
As time went on, he became accustomed to taking care of her. All those moments slowly morphed into a deep, unspoken possessiveness that he hadn’t even realized had taken root.
At long last, he had Evelyn right where he wanted her—sheltered under his protective wing.
Alaric Stone: "I didn’t intend to manipulate you; it’s just you were too easy to catch."
**Gentle but cunning faux heir vs. the innocent and somewhat oblivious rich kid**
#If things get out of hand, better get a fraud alert app!#
**Reading Notes:**
1. Despite being called rivals, they are essentially childhood sweethearts navigating a gay marriage backdrop, offering light-hearted sweetness and delight, 1v1.
2. There's no tearing apart the real heir from the fake; expect both conflict and growth, perhaps with the occasional absurd moment (meaning a bit of craziness).
3. Embrace and experiment with fresh styles; if it doesn’t suit your taste, stop reading and look for something better next time!
**Content Tags:** Urban Romance, Unwavering Affection, Sweet Reads
**Keyword Highlights:** Main Characters: Evelyn Bright, Alaric Stone | Supporting Characters: Percival Joye, Tobias Blackwood
**Synopsis in One Sentence:** You’ve never met such a crafty childhood friend.
**Theme:** Love requires courage and perseverance.
At 7 PM, an international flight landed, with passengers shuffling shoulder to shoulder, weaving towards the exit.
Evelyn Bright dragged her suitcase out of the airport terminal just as her phone buzzed back to life. Moments later, a call request from her ex-boyfriend, Walter Stark, popped up.
“Hey, Norah, you finally picked up!” Walter's voice echoed through the line. “Are you still upset? Where are you?”
“I’m back in the country.” Evelyn replied curtly. “We’re done, so don’t bring it up. Goodbye.”
“What? You mean you just returned without telling me?” Walter sounded surprised and clearly annoyed. “You couldn’t even drop me a text?”
“I don’t have anything to discuss with you,” Evelyn replied coolly. “You’re the one who’s looking to get set up with a girl when you return, right? Best of luck with that.”
As they had been a same-sex couple during their studies in The Kingdom of Alba, their relationship lasted about six months—a fleeting romance in a place where no one knew them. Returning home, they had to confront reality.
For Walter, that meant planning a future that potentially involved marrying and having kids with a woman.
“I only said there’s a chance I might meet someone… in the future,” he defended, “but I never said I’d definitely go through with it. You know my family values are traditional—everyone expects me to settle down.”
“Come on, aside from the fact that same-sex marriage is legal now—you, even as a heterosexual, could still say, ‘I might consider dating, but I’m not necessarily going to sleep around.’ You’d still get an earful!”
Evelyn had no intention of marrying him; she didn't actually need to escalate their argument.
Walter, oblivious, replied, “True. But if you think about it—marriage isn’t just about one man and one woman. There are so many factors involved: dowries, homes, cars… compatibility. We’re both guys after all.”
Evelyn scoffed, ready to fire back a retort, but a girl ahead stumbled, struggling with her overstuffed suitcase, losing her grip.
She quickly stepped forward to help, her irritation forgotten as the grateful girl caught her eye, and Evelyn swallowed her invective.
It was clear to Evelyn that continuing this conversation was pointless.
“Wait, wait!” Just as she was about to hang up, Walter called out, desperate. “I have one more thing to say.”
“Go ahead.”
"Remember we planned to stay in a hotel suite together? You left without telling me! Therefore, I think you still owe me half the room rates. Just calculate it in RMB according to today’s exchange rate and transfer it to my Alipay.”
“…”
Evelyn held her phone up, wide-eyed in disbelief. What a ridiculous request!
She couldn’t fathom what had made her date someone like him six months earlier with all its complications.
They technically had never cohabited, just shared the same rented student housing. Evelyn had gotten to know Walter through parties and club activities, and had naively agreed to be with him. Then as graduation approached, the pipes in their building burst, damaging many rooms just as everyone was packing up for their return home.

Chapter 2

Evelyn Bright had just moved into a hotel suite near the city with Walter Stark, trying to make the best of it for a few days.
To be precise, it was Evelyn who settled into the hotel first. Walter had learned about his suite, claiming he needed to save money, and insisted on crashing there with him.
Evelyn Bright wasn't lacking in funds. He came from a comfortably wealthy background; while not overtly extravagant, he could definitely be classified as a trust fund kid. His mother, Clara Spring, was known in Cinderport as a powerful businesswoman, often featured in news articles about her rags-to-riches story.
However, among the many young heirs who flaunted their flashy cars and superficial romances, Evelyn maintained a humble demeanor. It was likely that Walter had no idea he was the son of Clara Spring, which might explain his interest in marrying someone who matched his status upon returning home.
But that was neither here nor there.
Evelyn snapped out of his reverie about love and loss and picked up the phone to call his childhood friend, Percival Joye, getting straight to the point: “Hot pot in Old Beijing.”
The first thing on his agenda upon returning home was less about overcoming jet lag and more about satisfying the deep hunger gnawing at him.
“You’re back? When? Just now?” Percival exclaimed, welcoming his friend enthusiastically but hesitating. “I mean, eating lamb hot pot in this sweltering heat? Isn’t that a bit… too heavy? Plus, it’s late; hot pot isn’t easy to digest.”
“If you’re worried about health, I can sneak a couple of bottles of goji berries from my dad for you later,” Evelyn teased, giving his friend no chance to refuse. “I just returned from the Kingdom of Alba, and I want lamb hot pot now!”
He emphasized, “Even if the hot pot restaurant caught fire, I’d still be rescuing the lamb.”
That sounded pretty dire. For the sake of camaraderie, Percival began to waver, but the oppressive heat outside still gave him pause.
Evelyn pressed on: “And if you don’t join me, you’ll lose a friend who would sneak off to anime conventions with you. I’ll even send you postcards of starry nights during holidays. Believe me, I have a whole stack in my bag right now.”
“Just send me the location,” Percival finally gave in.
An hour later, they were seated at a table piled high with fresh lamb, tripe, tofu, vermicelli, and cabbage, accompanied by delicate chive flowers and sesame sauce. Though the timing might seem questionable, they were relishing the meal, and Evelyn found himself touched, casting Walter starkly out of his thoughts.
Percival, ever curious, nudged a little gossip forward: “So, how did you end up with someone like that?”
Evelyn took a bite of sesame flatbread and replied vaguely, “Just... experimenting, I guess.”
His fling with Walter had carried a hint of a joke. Rather than a genuine romantic relationship, it felt more like Evelyn trying to assert his independence from his mother, Clara, and declaring his newfound desire to embrace his identity.
Upon hearing this, Percival looked surprised. “Wow, you went abroad and learned to play with emotions!”
Evelyn took the compliment in stride, brushing it off nonchalantly.
In truth, neither of them had much experience in matters of the heart, and the topic soon shifted.
Percival and Evelyn had essentially grown up together as inseparable. The children of wealthy parents often congregated in their own circles. In Evelyn’s social sphere, Percival was his closest friend—both their temperaments and perspectives were alike, and neither was particularly confrontational.
From their childhood, Percival never looked down on Evelyn for being a dutiful son, under his mother's thumb. Conversely, Evelyn had never mocked Percival for his round physique, introverted nature, or stutter like others might have.
It was rare to find parents who didn’t compare their children. The pressure of achieving excellence among wealthy families was intense, and it was common to hear, “Look at so-and-so’s child—why can’t you be more like them?”
Both Evelyn and Percival were victims of those comparisons, always living in the shadows of others' achievements. They had vowed to be each other's bastions against the societal push to always rise higher; whoever pursued ambition first would betray their class.
However, Percival suddenly brought up a classic example of a "model child."
“By the way, have you heard about Alaric Stone?” he queried.
Evelyn paused, lifting a piece of tripe to dip into the broth. “What happened?”
“You don’t know? It’s a big deal! Apparently, he was switched at birth!” Percival exclaimed, slapping his thigh and lowering his voice dramatically. “Turns out, he isn’t actually Uncle Cedric's and Lydia Quinn's biological son.”
Evelyn was caught off guard by this explosive gossip upon his return: Alaric Stone, the reigning kingpin of their community, had been swapped at the hospital?
He stared blankly, trying to grasp the shocking news.
Percival nodded knowingly. “You never would’ve guessed, right?”
“Yeah, it’s surprising... but also, maybe it’s karma for him?” Evelyn replied, wrestling with mixed feelings.
They had known Alaric since childhood—he was older by three years, mature, collected, and the epitome of elite education. Evelyn often heard his mother’s voice: “When will you ever learn from someone like him?”
Considering Percival's circumstances at home, it probably wasn’t all that different.
So they both shared a silent laughter at the thought of Alaric, whose perfection had always felt insurmountable.
Long before the term “Versailles” emerged, Alaric had a knack for modesty that came across as a real talent. At school parent-teacher meetings, if Clara asked Alaric how he performed in exams, he would humbly say, “Just okay,” a comment cloaking the fact he was first in his class.

Chapter 3

Clara Spring turned to Evelyn Bright and scolded, “Look at her, top of the class and so humble. Meanwhile, you’re still just goofing around.”
Then there was Percival Joye, who couldn’t resist poking fun at his son’s reserved parents in public. “I heard Alaric is quite the catch at school, with girls lining up to chase him.” Alaric Stone would always respond with a nonchalant shrug, insisting there was nothing to it.
A few days later, Percival returned, visibly upset, to tell Evelyn he’d seen his crush handing love letters to Alaric Stone—those two even studying together at the Great Library.
They exchanged a knowing glance, a tacit understanding forged from over two decades of friendship: this guy wasn’t worth sympathy.
It was a rare opportunity to strike back at Alaric Stone, and they weren’t about to pass it up.
The catch? Percival hadn’t seen Alaric in a while and had no idea what was going on with him now.
“How about we find a reason to invite him out tomorrow?” Evelyn suggested.
“Good idea. You should do the inviting,” Percival said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“Why me?” Evelyn responded, surprised.
“You’ve known him longer,” Percival retorted. “Plus, I’m a bit scared... he’s pretty intimidating.”
“Seriously? You’re too much of a coward,” Evelyn shot back.
“Exactly! That’s why you should do it!” Percival pleaded.
They lived in Golden Blossom Garden, one of the upscale neighborhoods in Cinderport, where their three families almost felt like neighbors. Percival’s family lived in the apartment area, while Evelyn and the Stones were in the villa section, which was certainly closer together.
Evelyn understood Percival’s hesitation: Alaric Stone had a knack for putting on a facade. When he looked at you with those serious eyes, it felt like the elite were peering down at you from their lofty heights—enough to make anyone shudder.
To sum it up, Percival reasoned, “Besides, you can talk circles around me. You’ll handle the mocking he deserves.”
It was hard to argue with that.
After all, they couldn’t possibly rely on the klutz Percival to give Alaric a taste of his own medicine.
Evelyn Bright wouldn’t back down. She pulled out her phone to message Alaric, only to find he was still blocked.
Ah, right. She had done that out of frustration ages ago.
Evelyn unblocked Alaric and mentally drafted a few opening lines. “Heard you’ve been having a rough time lately,” or perhaps, “I know all about it, haha,” seemed a bit weak and failed to pack a punch.
She had blocked Alaric for years, and the last message between them felt like a lifetime ago, back in high school.
Percival’s eager gaze made it hard to think straight. To buy herself some time, Evelyn made up an excuse.
“I’ll be right back. I need to hit the restroom,” she spun out.
“There’s one right in the suite!” Percival called after her.
“Uh, I need... another smoke,” she stammered.
“You smoke now?” Percival exclaimed in disbelief. “When did you start?”
“Just learned. I’m heading out to buy a pack,” she said, slipping out the glass door onto the terrace, escaping with a quick slam behind her.
She had no intention of buying cigarettes.
Stepping outside, the summer heat wrapped around her like a thick blanket. The smoking area was set with little round tables and ashtrays, but Evelyn couldn’t say what drew her there.
Listening to Percival’s unwavering claims about Alaric being a wolf in sheep's clothing, something felt surreal. The idea that anything that dramatic could be happening in her life was hard to fathom.
Someone else had beaten her to the smoking area, casually leaning against the railing and exhaling clouds of smoke. A flickering red tip punctuated the darkness.
Then he looked over, recognizing her, and extinguished his smoke in an ashtray.
Evelyn hadn’t anticipated bumping into Alaric Stone here—she hadn’t even rehearsed what to say.
All her thoughts vanished as she felt a rush of anxiety.
Their eyes met first, and Alaric spoke in his usual laid-back manner, without the slightest surprise. “You’re back in town. When did you arrive?”
Startled, Evelyn replied, “Just today... but that’s none of your business.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, seemingly puzzled. “Why didn't you go home?”
“Because it's none of your business,” she insisted again.
“Alright then, not my business. You’re here with Percival, I assume?” he asked, obviously knowing her well.
“How’d you know?” she retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “What if I’m here with someone else?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Uh... Percival Joye!” Evelyn fumbled, trying to conjure a different name, but it was futile; Alaric knew every one of her friends. From the time they were kids, he made it clear he was all-knowing, which was infuriating. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
Evelyn wasn’t prepared for Alaric to grin. “Maybe I’m not as smart as you think I am.”
Evelyn felt the irritation bubble over; “Are you even aware I was complimenting you?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” She mumbled, “I already know all about that thing you did.”
Alaric smirked, but didn’t pry.
This left Evelyn unsure of how to continue, her mouth opened to speak, but felt silenced by Alaric’s unyielding presence.
They stood in an oppressive silence, the heavy summer air laden with humidity. A breeze blew, only bringing more heat with it, making it hard to breathe.
Evelyn wore a sleeveless hoodie and loose shorts, hardly concerned about her appearance. It gave her a sense of vulnerability next to Alaric, who still dressed with perfection: a crisp white shirt, gray slacks, and a neatly knotted tie at his neck.

Chapter 4

From the rolled-up sleeves to his elbows, it was clear this guy knew how to handle the heat.
Evelyn Bright had gotten used to the image of Alaric Stone ever since they started college.
Someone like Alaric Stone, with his pretentious demeanor, would never be seen in shorts or flip-flops in front of outsiders, nor would he allow any carefree ensemble to overshadow himself. He not only avoided casual attire; he made anyone dressed less formally stand awkwardly by as if they were mere props in his world, burning with embarrassment.
Evelyn Bright understood long ago that Alaric was nothing like him and Percival Joye, privileged but underachieving guys who were about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. The difference between them was like that between a luxury sports car and an old clunker—Alaric’s confidence practically glowed.
From the countless times Clara Spring had drilled into him, Evelyn could recite Alaric Stone's résumé like a creed—gifted child, advanced through every program, at sixteen already attending college, while other students were wrapping up summer assignments in a last-minute panic. By then, he was busy at his uncle's company, working on this film project or negotiating with that producer, gathering industry connections.
Naturally, upon graduation, he seamlessly slid into Uncle Cedric’s role.
Given Clara Spring’s rags-to-riches success story and her unyielding nature, she was not one to indulge in flattery. More often, she would publicly jab a finger at Evelyn’s head, leaving him feeling like a bobblehead: “This kid, I expect him to manage the company? So far, he’s done nothing. If he doesn’t sink us, I’ll be lighting incense for him. Just look at young Jian.”
Having been through enough humiliations, Evelyn was now well-versed in maintaining his composure. Still, whenever Alaric Stone was around to witness his discomfort, it inevitably ignited a rage that stirred deep within—perhaps it was the lingering aroma of elitism that Alaric exuded.
And to make matters worse, Alaric had the knack for masquerading his true self, offering an impeccable façade that ensnared the unsuspecting.
Just like now…
Evelyn Bright mused, damn, he was used to towering foreign dudes by now, so why did Alaric still seem so intimidatingly tall?
Beyond his impeccable style, Alaric had a striking look—pale skin that stood out like a pristine lily in the summer darkness. His high cheekbones and sharp features created an aura that was both inscrutable and lofty whenever he gazed at others.
His lips were thin, and whenever he spoke, there was a hint of a smirk that blurred the lines between courtesy and condescension.
Evelyn turned his gaze to the street, wondering how someone occupying the wrong nest could seem so self-assured; it was maddening that he could still find time to relax and enjoy dinner while everything was unraveling.
Speaking of which, had Uncle Cedric found his biological son yet?
After listening to Percival Joye stutter through gossip all night, Evelyn had tried and failed to glean anything substantial since Percival flunked arts subjects in school and his communication skills were barely passable—a lonely one-sided conversation, really. Thinking this, Evelyn could not help but sneak out his phone to search for news.
At that moment, a young man with a square face approached, and Evelyn recognized him as Alaric’s assistant, Gavin Heath.
“Alaric, Director Zhang and the team are inside toasting... Oh sorry, I didn’t realize Evelyn Bright was here too.”
Gavin spotted Evelyn and quickly greeted him, “Weren’t you studying abroad? When did you get back?”
Evelyn’s online search turned up nothing; it looked like Alaric’s family was keeping things under wraps.
He was polite enough, tucking his phone back into his pocket, “Not long; just returned. You guys are here on business?”
“Yep, little Alaric has scheduled meetings for the new film project,” Gavin replied.
Even though Uncle Cedric was stepping back, he still held the reins as chairperson, leading to staff referring to Alaric as just “Alaric” and “little Alaric.”
Evelyn, however, felt no interest in Alaric’s affairs; he knew little about the film industry—project greenlighting, talent management, all the jargon went over his head. He was left wondering how and why Alaric was still discussing business, and whether that company would ever be his concern in the future.
Alaric, as if sensing his thoughts, suddenly called out, “Evelyn Bright.”
Evelyn braced himself, “What is it?”
Alaric’s eyes were wide and dark, reminiscent of a little creature, reminding Alaric of a nest of kittens he had seen once at a friend's house—innocent yet clueless as they mewed incessantly, trying to claw at him.
Alaric paused for a moment before saying, “Now that you’re back, watch what you eat. Avoid greasy foods, or you might trigger a stomach issue.”
“I won’t,” Evelyn shot back confidently.
Yet Alaric seemed to be a harbinger of misfortune; with just a few words, Evelyn found himself sprinting to the restroom once he got back to his private “Suite of Four Seasons.”
Percival, looking weakly at him, commented, “I think it’s not that he’s bad luck, but honestly, you probably shouldn’t have jumped straight into hotpot.”
“Shut up,” Evelyn grumbled, sipping barley tea. “It’s just that I haven’t had Chinese food in so long; I’m experiencing a bit of reverse culture shock.”
“Fine,” Percival sighed. “How about we wait until you’re feeling better before mocking Alaric Stone?”
It was a considerate suggestion. After a fairly eventful meal, the two decided it was time to head home.
Percival had taken a cab, while Evelyn had returned from The Royal Aerodrome. Both of them were the types with licenses yet never drove—defined as road hazards, they found themselves stuck at the curb, wedged between their luggage and the exhaust of passing cars.
Percival avoided driving ever since he had "borrowed" a limited-edition Porsche during one outing—there were just too many luxury cars around the neighborhood. Evelyn steered clear after he bumped straight into a flower bed while distracted by Alaric.
The specifics weren’t worth going into, but the results had left a lasting impression.
As luck would have it, soon after nine, they encountered a swarm of programmers leaving the nearby tech park, making it impossible to find a driver.
Percival, beefy and sweaty, his short hair plastered against his scalp, looked like a mess under the streetlights, while Evelyn felt no better; after a long flight and a heavy meal, he struggled to keep his eyelids from drooping and his thoughts from drifting.

Chapter 5

Another fifteen minutes passed before a sleek black Bavarian Motorcar pulled up in front of the two of them. The window rolled down to reveal Alaric Stone's inquisitive face.
“Hey, why haven’t you two left yet?” Alaric asked, a hint of surprise in his tone.
Percival Joye visibly tensed up at the sight of him, his stutter revealing his discomfort. “Uh, w-well, it’s just that…”
Evelyn Bright struggled to keep her eyes open. “We were just letting our food settle before heading out for a walk.”
As she spoke, she swayed dangerously, prompting a grin from Alaric. He opened the car door, took a few steps, and grabbed Evelyn's hefty 26-inch suitcase, dragging it to the back of the Bavarian Motorcar.
Without missing a beat, Alaric's assistant, Gavin Heath, slid open the trunk while Alaric bent down to toss the suitcase inside.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing—stealing my stuff?” Evelyn protested, half-heartedly.
He looked down at her with a teasing smile. “Yep, I just stole it. So, are you two going to continue standing here, or are you coming with us?”
With that, he leaned against the car, and Gavin exchanged glances with the duo. It was a clear message: “If you’re not getting in, we’re leaving.”
The front passenger seat and the rear seat door on the same side were wide open, emanating a refreshing, air-conditioned chill that was hard to resist. Percival could only hold out for ten seconds before succumbing to the allure. He exchanged a glance with Evelyn and ultimately bolted toward the back seat, but Alaric held up a hand to stop him.
“Sit in the front,” Alaric instructed.
The passenger seat it was. Percival conceded, grateful for the cool air, exhaling with relief as he settled into the car.
Alaric turned back to Evelyn, his expression morphing into that familiar, playful smirk she had come to know. “You’re not getting in, right? Then I guess we'll just head back and leave you to wait for your driver.”
He made a move to climb inside. Evelyn shot a glare at Percival, her apparent traitor who, though he had a bone to pick with Alaric, had no qualms about enjoying the car's AC. Giving in, she muttered, “Alright, fine. I’ll get in.”
Grinning, Alaric watched as she opened the rear left door, following her in from the other side.
The car glided smoothly along the streets, like a fish through water, the streetlights flashing by them in a blur.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense. The driver focused on the road, while Percival stuttered nervously, Evelyn fought off drowsiness, and Alaric played with a lighter, its flicking sound cutting through the silence. To relieve the awkwardness, Gavin switched on the car's sound system.
Eventually losing the battle against fatigue, Evelyn’s head nodded and hit the window, jolting her awake. Both she and Alaric occupied the back seat, yet maintained a conspicuous gap between them as if an invisible barrier existed.
She noticed Alaric fiddling with a metallic lighter, opening and closing its lid with a rhythmic click that seemed to draw her attention more than it should have.
Why’s he playing with a lighter? Evelyn thought, somewhat bemused. Alaric hadn’t been much of a smoker before; was he smoking to ease his own troubles now that he was down on his luck?
She rubbed her eyes and finally spoke up, “Can you stop with that lighter? It’s annoying.”
Alaric paused momentarily, then replied, “Alright.”
She couldn't help but mentally chastise him. It wasn't the smoking itself that bothered her, but how he’d turned into a chainsmoker; she remembered when he first picked up the habit after starting his job. There was something about smoking in the dark like a lone wolf that now felt foreign to her.
Though they’d blocked each other from their lives for years, living so close only drove the point home: How could Alaric change right under her nose?
Evelyn wanted to hurl more criticism at him or check if he had a pack of cigarettes on him. Yet, in the midst of her contemplation, her purse spilled a Rubik’s Cube onto the floor, rolling to Alaric's feet.
As she bent down to retrieve it, Alaric was quicker, picking it up first and inspecting it under the light.
This Rubik’s Cube was a twist on the classic one; instead of the usual squares, it featured six curved sides intersecting at two corners, resembling an eye.
Alaric scrutinized it, lifting an eyebrow. “Why does it look like this?”
Normally, Evelyn wouldn’t want to engage in conversation, especially with Alaric. But since he stumbled into a topic she was familiar with, she couldn’t help but let her ego take charge. “That’s a Maple Leaf Cube.”
Percival, sitting up front, turned his head back. “What’s that? A Maple Leaf Cube? I want to see!”
He was promptly ignored by both, and Evelyn replied, “Look it up yourself.” Then she added, with a sardonic edge aimed at Alaric, “It’s way simpler than advanced cubes. Perfect for beginners. You could actually manage it.”
She emphasized the “you.”
Alaric glanced her way but continued twisting the sections of the cube until the uniform color was lost, unable to restore it to its former state.
With a chuckle, he handed it back to her. “Alright, I guess for a ‘beginner,’ it is still quite hard.”
Disappointed by his lack of perseverance in an area where she excelled, Evelyn felt deflated. “It’s really not that difficult! You could start with just two sides. If you genuinely want to learn, I can teach you…”
Clearing her throat, she added, “I could send you a tutorial video.”
Alaric shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe next time. Since you’re heading back home, I’ll just come find you when I want to learn.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes and snatched the cube back from him, swiftly twisting it magically to restore the six sides.
Alaric held a subtle, amused smile, turning his gaze out the window, seemingly uninterested in the playful banter.

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