Chapter 9

Five years had passed, and Scarlet’s appearance had changed dramatically.

If you have seen pictures of her in the past, you would never believe that a slender woman with a sweet smile was the same person. Now, she was pudgy and her eyes laden with dark circles—everything from her behavior and fashion was vulgar, and anyone would take her for a middle-aged housewife when she left the house.

Over the last five years, our game of rock-paper-scissors repeated endlessly.

Whenever she struggled, I broke her with a casual smile and nonchalant words, even as she sank further in position.

On the other hand, I was the same old me—my figure was still robust, my cheeks were flushed, and my hair was still very thick whenever I looked into the mirror. A little fixing, and I would be very much presentable.

By the way, I had also been keeping my libido in check. David had a friend who owned a joint with many vain young women, all of whom were younger and prettier than Scarlet, and a little doug