Chapter 4: Thirty Days, One Confession, and a Knife

Just like that, I “happily” spent twenty-eight days with him. Time flies.

In these twenty-eight days, he didn’t fall in love with me, and I finally gave up.

I all but gave up trying.

Because it’s simply impossible. Let’s be real.

On the twenty-ninth day, I threw caution to the wind and confessed.

“Hey, I like your looks, your attitude, your personality, your conduct, and even more your talent... I like you—”

I shouted with all my might, shaking the world. Might as well go big.

Since I can’t get his love, at least I can express mine. No regrets. Closure.

Although this ‘love’ isn’t romantic love, but the adoration of a fangirl for a handsome man. Still counts.

Nathaniel’s hand trembled as he picked up the mirror, looking at me for a long time. Uh-oh.

Then, he threw the mirror aside and pinched me hard. Not the reaction I hoped for.

“You really dare to say anything.” Me: “...” No filter.

On the thirtieth day, the mayor led the city council and police out for the annual charity hunt event and encountered an assassination attempt.

It was the kind of event the whole town turned out for—picnic baskets, lemonade stands, the mayor in his best boots, and Nathaniel standing tall in the crowd, every inch the local golden boy.

Nathaniel charged to the front, fighting the attacker. Hero mode.

When the assailant lunged at him, Nathaniel reacted quickly and dodged. Close call.

Unfortunately, I—the birthmark—was sliced off by the attacker’s knife, falling silently into the grass. Well, that’s new.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. I tumbled into the cool, damp grass, the world suddenly muffled and distant.

Nathaniel was stunned, then reached up to touch the corner of his mouth. Not finding me, and regardless of the attacker’s presence, he squatted down to look for me. He actually cares?

The assailant was dumbfounded, just standing there, his eyes following Nathaniel’s strange behavior, totally confused.

As a result, he was tackled by the police and hauled off.

Finally, Nathaniel found me in the grass, held me in his palm, and shouted loudly: “Doctor! Doctor! Come save it—” He’s really losing it.

Hearing his urgent voice, the paramedic thought the mayor was in trouble. Wrong emergency.

Carrying his medical kit in one hand and his jacket in the other, he hurried over, looked down, and was stunned. Priceless.

The dignified Whitmore heir, the top marksman in the county, was actually holding his birthmark in both hands, his face pale with anxiety? You can’t make this up.

Everyone around was also dumbfounded, trading looks like, was this a sign from above—or had Nathaniel lost his mind?

“He fell in love with me, hahaha—” I laughed silently in his palm. Mission accomplished.

Perfect! Mission complete, I can leave now. Time to go.

Although I’m a little reluctant, as a birthmark, what does it even mean to win his heart?

After taking one last deep look at him, I completely lost consciousness. Goodbye, Nathaniel.

Luckily, I didn’t hear what Nathaniel shouted next:

“Hey, Little Mark, you can’t die—you haven’t finished last night’s joke—” He’ll miss me.

If I could’ve smiled, I would’ve. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll see him again in another story.