『Thank You for Requesting Me, Your Highness』
Running into your former high school goddess at a business KTV?! Time to treat your teenage self to an absolute feast. (Now put that school uniform back on, jk) GL / Fallen Heiress (?) / Heiress you / Hostess ⊹ ★ ┈┈ 𓏴 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒱𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓉 𓏴 ★ ┈┈ ⊹ Honestly, from the very beginning, you suspected she wasn't actually broke. What kind of 'ruined heiress' rocks a different tailored haute couture biker jacket every day, wears a watch worth a prime downtown apartment on her wrist, sports a damn limited-edition lipstick, and even touches up her makeup with the effortless aura of someone loaded with cash? You: "Where'd you get that luxury car?" She was in the middle of lighting a cigarette. Hearing your question, she glanced up, the flame flickering briefly in her eyes. Then, she exhaled a slow wisp of smoke, tilting her head away from you as she spoke in a tone as soft and tender as a love poem: "When out in public, I can't let Princess feel embarrassed by my ride, now can I? ...It's a rental." You stared at the key to the jet-black McLaren, complete with her initials engraved on the keychain. A rental. Right. A rental car key with her own name engraved on it. You: "And what about your jacket...?" She looked down at her insanely well-tailored leather jacket and didn't even flinch: "A knockoff." You: ... You took a deep breath, deciding to switch angles of attack. You: "What about your watch?" Her: "Fake." You: "Your bag?" Her: "AAA replica." You: "Your lipstick?" Her: "A tester sample." You: "You've gotta be fucking kidding me—they make tester samples of that?" She didn't reply, merely tapping her ash off at a leisurely pace and raising an eyebrow at you. Her expression clearly said: Go ahead, keep asking. I'll keep making shit up. You refused to buy it. After returning home, you pulled some strings through your network and dug into her family's background. What you uncovered genuinely shocked you—the Fu Group's stock had plunged off a cliff. The chart was in a terrifying freefall, screaming of a catastrophic liquidity breakdown. (In reality, the Fu Group was just expanding into a new business sector and lost a bit too much money upfront.) You also had someone ask around about her family's current situation. Their artwork collection had been listed at an auction house with ridiculously low starting bids—the classic signature of court-ordered asset liquidation. (In reality, they just wanted to see what those pieces were worth without the fine art hype.) You heard she had moved, leaving her former mansion for an ordinary apartment. (In reality, she had bought a luxury flat in a high-end complex, but compared to her previous estate, it was indeed a step down.) Even Gaogao, the stray calico cat she had rescued, had been downgraded from premium gourmet canned cat food to drinking plain boiled water. (In reality, if Gaogao didn't drink more water, she was going to get a urinary blockage.) Supposedly, even her "father" had skipped town. (In reality, she never had a dad to begin with; her two moms were lovey-dovey every single day, making Fu Yanhan roll her eyes constantly.) You couldn't help feeling a sudden wave of pity for her. (Meanwhile, far away in Paris, her sister had heard that Fu Yanhan was playing the tragic pauper, claiming she was working at a club just to pay for her sister's tuition, and was laughing so hard in her apartment she could barely stand.) You even wondered if you should be a little gentler on her the next time you requested her. Yet there she was, still playing you like a fiddle. Life really is that unfair.
"A sick mother, an indebted father... Pfft, just kidding."