Once I Went Abroad, They Couldn't Forget Me

Ten years into my assignment with the Unforgettable Love System, all my progress fell apart.

The original novel's heroine had been around for just three months.

The brooding boy I'd grown up with—the one I'd spent ten years winning over—put on a sunny, easygoing act for her and left me behind.

My fiancé's affection had only reached 80 percent after years of checking on him and taking care of him. One look at her, and he reset me to zero.

Even my own brother, who'd always treated me like the most precious person in his life, stopped being gentle and told me to grow up.

With my entire assignment about to go under, I decided on one last gamble.

There was a rule in novels: the woman nobody could forget always went abroad and stayed away for years.

Fine. Time to test the theory.

I packed that night and booked a flight out of the country.

——————

“You've made up your mind?”

My father's voice was calm and commanding.

I stood in the middle of the foyer with my head down, looking utterly defeated.

“Yes.”

It was so quiet that even that faint answer carried to all three people in the room.

At the sight of me, Dad seemed to feel a little sorry.

“Don't blame me, sweetheart. We can't afford to make enemies of the Wests.”

The Wests. The family the original novel's heroine belonged to.

Their biological daughter had been missing for eighteen years. She'd come home just three months ago, and already everyone adored her.

Everyone included pretty much every person I knew.

A few days earlier, she'd fallen down a staircase right in front of me. Then she'd cried and said I'd pushed her.

I explained and explained. Nobody believed me.

The security cameras had very conveniently stopped working, too.

To keep the Wests happy, my father had decided that I needed to be punished.

Honestly, what was I supposed to do?

I'd been working with the Unforgettable Love System for ten years. My assignment was to become the woman my targets would always treasure and never get over.

For a decade, I'd been the considerate, well-behaved daughter at home and the gracious, polished girl everywhere else.

I'd cultivated my childhood best friend on one side and my fiancé on the other.

I was so close to finishing. I'd practically started planning the new life my fifteen-million-dollar payout would buy.

Then the heroine showed up, opened her mouth, and sent my affection scores plummeting.

I really hadn't known what to do.

Could someone please do something about people destroying ten years of hard work for no reason?

Apparently, that was the power of a novel built around everyone adoring its heroine.

I was a supporting character. The moment my wealthy-heiress role overlapped with hers, I was doomed to get labeled jealous and vicious, whether I'd done anything or not.

My overall progress had dropped to 20 percent.

Women who went abroad were supposedly impossible to forget. With that final goal in mind, I'd used the situation to ask my father to send me away.

Last night, I'd even dragged the system back from the retirement it had already started planning.

“System, I'm going with the last-resort plan.”

[You're going abroad?]

My resolve was firm.

If I didn't run now, when would I? Better to leave before their affection hit rock bottom. The sooner I got out, the safer I'd be.

Which brought us to the foyer.

After listening with my head lowered, I looked up sharply, my eyes shining with tears.

“I... I understand. I won't make things difficult for you, Dad.”

My voice caught. Tears threatened to spill, and I hurried to wipe them away.

From the corner of my eye, I caught the others looking uncomfortable.

That was my cue. Tears streamed down my cheeks and silently soaked into my collar.

As though I couldn't bear to let my family see me lose control, I covered my face and ran upstairs.

The moment my bedroom door shut and blocked their view, I stopped crying.

“System, get me a Frail Beauty card.”

After ten years together, the system pretty much did whatever I asked.

I was the most efficient, decisive host it had ever worked with. Admittedly, its previous hosts hadn't set a very high bar.

Even when our progress crashed, it hadn't had the heart to blame me. It just accepted my plan and handled the support work for our final push.

It was fast. I'd barely opened a notebook before the card appeared on my desk.

I didn't need it yet, so I set it aside and got to work on the props.

An unforgettable lost love needed to be gentle and beyond reproach.

Which meant I had a whole diary to write tonight.

It needed quiet little expressions of concern for my parents and a younger sister's affection for her brother. Nothing too obvious. It had to sound like a girl who was shy about putting her feelings into words.

Of course, it also needed entries about how hurt she'd been by everyone's sudden change in attitude.

I flipped through the blank notebook, working out how far back to start.

[At one page a day, that should hold about two years.]

The reminder sounded in my head.

I sighed and resigned myself to writing.

I'd really miscalculated. Who expected everything to collapse this close to the finish line?

“Can you get me one of those Thought-to-Text cards?”

By the middle of the night, my writing hand was aching and numb. It was ruining my handwriting.

People judged you by your handwriting. I wasn't about to let a few sloppy pages wreck my perfect image.

[Yes! Absolutely!]

The system worked behind the scenes. Noticing how exhausted I looked, it immediately started taking my side.

[They're all ungrateful. Ten years with you, and they throw it away for three months with her.]

[Don't be upset! Once we're done, I'll get your bonus raised to forty-five million dollars!]

“Really?”

That promise wiped away my sleepiness.

I perked right up. Suddenly, I had energy again.

What more could a host ask for with a system like this?

“Forget the card! I've got this!”

[But I already redeemed it—]

Before it finished speaking, the card dissolved into white light and entered my mind.

All I had to do was sit there and think of what I wanted written. The pen hovered over the pages, filling them with smooth, tidy handwriting.

In just three hours, the notebook was full.

I stretched and let out an enormous yawn.

Then, to the system's confusion, I took out a pencil, an eraser, and a bowl of water.