Chapter 5: Lillian’s Walls

After serving two targets in a row, I was a little worn out.

Not long after, I drifted off into a deep sleep.

Late at night, I vaguely heard someone knocking at my door.

I got up and opened it—only to find my next-door neighbor, Lillian, standing there.

Lillian is one of my targets too.

Compared to the other three, she’s much more mature and gentle.

But also the hardest to win over.

Because she already has a boyfriend.

Lillian keeps everyone at arm’s length.

She’s like a sword wrapped in honey.

Half a year ago, she confessed to me: “Ethan, I know you have feelings for me. But I only see you as a younger brother. I have a boyfriend, and I’ll marry him someday. I hope you won’t waste your feelings on me.”

She put it so bluntly that I didn’t dare say more. I just told her that whenever she needed me, I’d be there.

Anyway, the system only cares about how much I simp, not about whether my targets actually like me.

Once the simp mission is over, I can finally say goodbye to her.

"Lillian, what’s wrong?"

She stood there wrapped in a thin bath towel, her face flushed. Her toes curled on the doormat, and she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. I suddenly forgot every word of English I ever knew.

"Um, Ethan? My shower just died on me. Is there any way you could maybe... help?"

Lillian bit her lip, water still dripping from her hair as she clutched her robe tightly, looking nervous.

"After the way I treated you before, you probably don’t want to help me, right?"

Seeing me silent, Lillian gave a bitter smile. I saw her pride warring with embarrassment—like she hated needing anyone, especially me. "Right... sorry to bother you. I’ll just go back..."

"Please, come in."

Before she could finish, I turned and invited her inside.

Lillian looked stunned.

"If you go back and shower in cold water, you’ll catch a cold."

I smiled at her.

[She was so sure she wouldn’t fall for Ethan, but now that she needs help, she remembers how good he is.]

[Forget that—can we see what’s going on in the bathroom?]

[Bro, that’s not right.]

I grabbed the toolkit from beneath my kitchen sink—old habit from my dad, who always fixed things himself rather than call the landlord. The handle was worn smooth from years of use. Dad always said a good wrench could fix anything, but tonight, I wasn’t so sure. The apartment was quiet except for the sound of Lillian’s shivering breaths. In America, neighbors don’t always talk, but tonight, the thin walls between us felt even thinner. I shot her a reassuring grin, the kind that says, “Hey, we’re all just trying to get by,” and led her to the bathroom, determined to at least be useful for once. But as I knelt by the pipes, her shadow fell across me—and for the first time all week, I wondered if I was the one about to get played.