The Heaven Lounge smelled like sugar, sweat, and self-satisfaction.
Lights glimmered in too many colors; too many people carried too little substance.
I had made up my mind: tonight, I was finally going to do something truly evil.
[Remaining time: 63 hours, 07 minutes.]
"Alright," I muttered. "If I'm in the temple of hypocrisy, I might as well start the fire."
My gaze fell on Cain's laptop—connected to the sound system, open, primed for his self-congratulatory speech.
A few keystrokes. One quick slide-in message.
A small truth in a sea of decoration.
I typed:
Heaven Entertainment – where emotions are marketed for profit.
"Perfect," I whispered.
[AVA: Statement analysis: 100% accurate. Projected shockwave in 3… 2… 1.]
Enter.
The music died.
My words lit up the giant LED wall—golden letters, impossible to miss.
The crowd froze.
Cain blinked.
Leo turned to me like I'd just built a confetti nuke.
"What the—"
Then it happened.
A sound—glass losing faith in gravity.
A waiter, young and overworked, stumbled over a cable… the very one I'd shifted to reach the laptop.
He fell, tray and all—straight into the champagne pyramid.
Domino effect.
Luxury in freefall.
I stepped back instinctively, but Leo lunged forward—catching me just in time before a glittering tsunami of gold and bubbles crashed down.
Crystal shattered. Champagne sprayed. Light fractured into a thousand tiny stars.
We stood there, dripping, breathless, hands still locked.
Silence.
Only the drip of luxury on marble.
[AVA: Ambient noise—zero. Calculating emotional curve…]
Then the first gasp.
Then applause.
And, of course, the flash of cameras.
Someone shouted, "Look at that!"
Another: "It's symbolic!"
And just like that—
#LoveReunited was born.
Leo stood close enough that I could feel his breath.
He looked at me—half shock, half smirk.
"So that was your big plan?"
"I… wanted to crash the system."
"Congratulations. You rebooted romance."
[AVA: Observation—audience interprets betrayal as hope. Linguistic nightmare.]
I looked up at the glowing words on the LED wall.
Heaven Entertainment – where emotions are marketed for profit.
They gleamed perfectly, untouchable, ironically adored.
The crowd was cheering.
Cain shouted over the noise, ecstatic:
"Genius! You can't sell love more honestly than that!"
[AVA: Reframing detected. Statement neutralized. Context: romanticized.]
"I hate everything about this place."
[AVA: Mutual sentiment. Still: effective.]
Leo grinned.
"Come on, Vega. We're the industry's most honest lie."
"I hope you choke on your image."
"Only if you're there to watch."
Flashes again.
The world had just decided we were in love.
And somewhere, the countdown ticked on.
[Remaining time: 62 hours, 44 minutes.]
— • —
For three seconds, the world was silent.
Then it collapsed—beautifully choreographed chaos.
Waiters ran.
Security shouted.
Someone screamed for towels.
The golden sea of glass glittered like divine sarcasm.
And there I was—soaked, sticky, unwillingly radiant.
Cain barreled through the crowd.
"Celeste! That was… incredible!"
"I just destroyed your beverage tower!"
"Symbolic! The fall of excess! The audience cried!"
"From shock."
"From emotion!"
[AVA: Diagnosis—mass perception distortion. Cause: collective optimism.]
I stood amid glass and PR euphoria, trying to breathe.
Everything smelled of sugar, perfume, and digital applause.
Leo wiped his forehead; his shirt clung, the audience still filming.
He smiled.
"That was spectacular, Vega."
"I wanted chaos, not fireworks."
"Same difference."
Before I could answer, Mira appeared with a towel—calm, flawless as always.
"Please don't destroy anything else, okay? Cain's in danger of a joy overdose."
"It was an accident."
"With you, everything's a concept."
[AVA: Observation—you're losing control of your own legend.]
I leaned against the bar. The music restarted, quieter, almost serene.
People laughed, snapped selfies, posted #LoveReunited with glittering hearts.
I stared into my dripping glass.
This wasn't evil.
It wasn't even close.
"I'm too… nice," I muttered.
[AVA: Contradiction—you just drenched a hundred people. That qualifies as minor terrorism.]
"Not that kind, Ava. I mean morally nice."
[AVA: A rare pathological condition. Symptoms: guilt, empathy, social behavior.]
"Tell me what I can ruin next."
[AVA: Request for mission expansion detected.]
"I'm asking for satisfaction."
A brief pause. Then, casually:
[AVA: Data note—Leo Heaven. Allergy profile: histamine-sensitive.
Triggers include shellfish, citrus, aged cheese.]
I looked up. "That's a weird coincidence, Ava."
[AVA: Merely informational.]
"And I'm merely interpretive."
My eyes found the buffet—reopened, shining with excess.
Silver trays, ridiculous prices.
And there, under perfect lighting: shrimp on lime glaze.
They shimmered like fate in appetizer form.
"He's hungry," I said.
[AVA: Statistically true.]
"And I have a mission."
I took my time—not out of calculation, but pleasure.
Finally, initiative.
I grabbed a small plate, two shrimp, balanced it like a diplomatic offering.
Leo stood a few meters away, laughing with reporters.
Charming. Careless.
Perfect target.
"You should eat," I said sweetly, in my best PR voice.
"After adrenaline, you need sugar."
"Sugar? These are shrimp."
"Metaphor counts."
He grinned, taking one.
"If you're trying to kill me, Vega, at least it's stylish."
"I do my best."
He bit in.
I waited.
One breath. Two. Three.
[AVA: Vital signs rising. Histamine reaction probable. Predicting awkward coughing in 5… 4… 3…]
Leo coughed.
Once. Then again.
Reporters turned.
"Leo? You okay?"
"Ah—just a little too much flavor."
I watched the faint flush creep up his neck.
Finally.
Consequence.
[AVA: Warning—your facial expression indicates satisfaction.
Humans interpret that as compassion.]
"Oh no!" I gasped. "He's reacting!"
I grabbed a glass of water, handed it to him.
He drank, coughed, smiled.
Smiled?!
"I'm fine," he rasped. "Celeste saved me."
Applause.
Again.
Of course.
Cain yelled from the side:
"Brilliant! Authentic vulnerability!"
I wanted to scream.
[AVA: New trend alert – #CelesteCare. Emotional reach: extreme.]
"Ava," I whispered, "I almost poisoned him."
[AVA: And the crowd thanks you. Welcome to the age of communication.]
Leo leaned toward me.
"If you're going to almost kill me again, warn me. I'll wear something darker."
"I hate you."
"Looks great on camera."
I turned away—wet, sticky, morally bankrupt in the least satisfying way.
Somewhere behind me, the music changed again.
[Remaining time: 62 hours, 10 minutes.]
— • —
Outside, blue lights and cameras fought for dominance.
Inside, silence—just the AC, wheezing like it wanted to filter morality itself.
Cain had the mic again, standing amid the ruins like a prophet of spin.
"Heaven Entertainment stands for authenticity!" he declared.
"For the moments that can't be scripted!
Tonight, we witnessed real emotion—raw, chaotic, human!"
Applause.
Of course.
I leaned on the bar, dripping, exhausted.
AVA hummed somewhere in my skull.
[AVA: Analysis—guilt successfully converted to market capital.]
"I nearly killed him, Ava."
[AVA: Technically, you improved his empathy metrics.
Medically: healing via shock.]
Leo sat nearby, towel around his neck, looking annoyingly photogenic in recovery.
"Smile a bit, Vega," he murmured.
"That was perfect timing."
"I wanted you to fall."
"And I did—into PR."
[AVA: Note—sarcasm density rising. Heart rate too.]
Cain waved me over.
"Celeste! Get ready for a statement."
"I want to go home."
"After tonight? Impossible! You have to tell the world how you felt."
"Sticky."
"No, authentic! Say something like—'Sometimes the most beautiful moments happen when everything breaks.' It'll go viral!"
[AVA: Prediction—true.]
I stared blankly.
"Sometimes the most beautiful moments happen when everything breaks," I repeated flatly.
Cain glowed. "Gorgeous! Honest! Painfully authentic!"
Leo raised his glass of water.
"To destruction that brings us together."
I didn't drink.
I'd had enough irony for one night.
[AVA: Evaluation—mission proceeding inversely.
Maximum stability achieved through malfunction.]
I pushed the glass away, looked into the cameras, and whispered:
"I'm so close to being truly evil. Why can't I ever succeed?"
[AVA: Maybe because you're better at it than the good ones.]
The lights flared.
Cain waved.
Applause surged.
And I stood there—wet, buzzing, the unwilling saint of sincerity.
[AVA: Heart rate unstable. Mental overload probable.]
"I'm tired, Ava."
[AVA: Fatigue is a luxury product. Rare commodity in this world.]
"I want a refund."
The sound warped—voices, lights, the hum of cameras blending into one blinding smear.
Everything brightened.
Too much.
[AVA: Warning—overstimulation critical.
Sensory systems shutting down.]
Applause stretched into water under glass.
Light turned to static.
Noise to nothing.
Then—silence.
[Remaining time: 61 hours, 52 minutes.]