Inside the airport, Vivienne Blackwood tightened her white coat firmly across her chest, picked up her small luggage bag, and prepared to board the plane.
When Mary saw Vivienne’s frail appearance—thinner than before, with faint dark circles under her eyes—she nearly choked up with tears and said loudly in a trembling voice: "Remember to take good care of your health and your body. When you arrive in the village, make sure you eat on time and take care of yourself properly."
Mary paused for a moment, then stepped closer to Vivienne and lowered her voice: "Also, take your medication on time, and don’t overdo it. It’s not good for you."
Her eyes were filled with worry as she said this.
The night before, while helping Vivienne pack her luggage, she had accidentally found some medication.
Strong sedatives, sleep aids, and other powerful drugs.
Only then did Vivienne tell her that she had been suffering from several physical illnesses, as well as psychological trauma, and that she had been relying on these medications for the past two years.
Mary felt like she wasn’t a good manager at all. She hadn’t even known about her artist’s condition, which had lasted for more than two years...
When Vivienne noticed that Mary was about to cry again, she reached out and hugged her, gently patting her back, then said calmly: "It’s alright. Thank you, Sister Mary. I’ll take good care of myself this time."
Mary couldn’t stop herself from crying. She knew the organizers had no good intentions in inviting her artist, but with no other choice, this was the only job she could accept.
Vivienne needed money to start a peaceful life. She had no option but to endure this injustice for this month.
"Don’t worry. It’s only one month. I’ll take good care of myself," Vivienne said to the woman who still looked worried.
"Alright, go quickly. And remember to call your sister when you arrive there." Mary wiped her tears.
Vivienne Blackwood put on her mask, waved at her, then turned and walked toward the airport.
Heavy rain poured over the mountain peaks, covering the white summit and the vast green lands in a misty haze.
The car stopped slowly, and a staff member opened the door beside Vivienne, causing her to shiver from the cold.
Vivienne opened her black eyes. They were long, fox-like eyes—delicate and alluring in an undeniable way.
Half of her face was buried in her gray scarf, wrapped around her neck.
Suddenly, the staff member swallowed hard, opened the umbrella, and held it out while waiting for Vivienne.
Originally, he was only supposed to hand her the umbrella, but...
Vivienne Blackwood asked sleepily in a soft voice: "Have we arrived?"
"...We have."
"Give me the umbrella..."
The staff member felt a bit embarrassed as he realized he had forgotten he was holding two umbrellas—one for himself and one meant for her...
Vivienne stepped out and walked slowly under the heavy rain, the loud patter echoing against the umbrella above her.
She seemed lost in thought the entire way. She didn’t say a single word.
The filming location was a small village.
The rented house had three small rooms, a living room, and a kitchen.
Inside the living room, Emma Walker, with her princess-styled hair tied with a bow, sat beside Camila Hall, who wore a gentle smile like a kind aunt. They chatted casually and naturally.
Oscar Jones sat in a relatively distant corner, isolated, holding a pencil and a small notebook in his hand.
He was clearly drawing.
There was another person. If you didn’t look carefully, you wouldn’t even notice his figure hidden in the shadows.
Leo Thompson—well known by name—was a racing driver who had won first place three times. He was unfamiliar with the entertainment world, as the public rarely saw him outside the racing track.
As for Arthur Williams, he was clearly bored by the surrounding silence.
The two men beside him sat silent and rigid, like robots.
His curly brown hair glowed under the lamplight.
"Guys, aren’t we missing someone? It seems like there’s another guest who hasn’t arrived yet."
A hint of mischief and malice flashed in Arthur Williams’ brown eyes.
"Does anyone know who the last guest is?"
The atmosphere fell completely silent. It was obvious that everyone was well aware of Miss Vivienne Blackwood’s scandals.
Emma and Camila stopped talking and looked at Arthur with visible reluctance.
What was he trying to do, speaking like that in front of the cameras?
Yes. The cameras were on, and the livestream had already started.
Arthur Williams smiled with a sly expression: "I heard the sixth guest is exceptionally beautiful."
[Beautiful my ass. Isn’t she just a disgusting gold digger? Brother Will, I hope you don’t fall into her trap. She’s not someone worthy of you.]
[Don’t make me laugh. Arthur Williams has always been a famous playboy, and he’s been involved with almost everyone he’s looked at. How can he say Vivienne isn’t worthy? At least Vivienne loved one person for two years and stayed loyal—she never had scandals with others.]
[Speaking of that woman, she’s already very late. Does she think arriving late will give her more screen time? What an idiot.]
[Why do you all hate that girl so much? The poor thing is just a young girl under twenty-one who fell in love. It’s not her fault that the person she loved was out of reach.]
[Of course, falling in love isn’t wrong, but shamelessly clinging to a wealthy man after being rejected is disgusting. If she had stopped bothering Mr. Voss when he rejected her, no one would despise her this much.]
The staff opened the door.
A staff member’s voice echoed: "The last guest has arrived."
Everyone turned their heads at the same time.
"I apologize for being late."
Fine droplets of rain formed a light mist around the figure holding a slender white hand gripping a black umbrella.
Vivienne Blackwood politely refused the towel offered by the staff, set her umbrella aside, stepped inside, and quickly removed her slightly wet coat.
Her long hair cascaded smoothly over her shoulders. Her fair skin, damp from rain and mist, looked soft like silk—almost as if it could be squeezed. The faint red mole beneath her eye became the final touch, glowing softly under the raindrops.
Her eyes—once gentle and peach-blossom soft—now carried a chilling detachment, empty and lifeless, dark voids without the slightest ripple. Yet, under the hazy look, there remained a breathtaking beauty that pierced straight through the heart like a hook.
Every part of her was perfectly composed, making it impossible to look away.
"Hello, I am Vivienne Blackwood."