บททั้งหมดของ When Love Finds Its Way Back : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Today was officially marked as Day One of the Global Tech Expo, and from the early hours of the morning, the venue was already alive with activity. Although all participating companies had completed registration weeks earlier, the first day always began with a final routine check, formalities that reinforced the importance and exclusivity of the event. Badges were scanned for biometric access at every entry point, security teams moved with quiet efficiency, and the booths, each designed to reflect the identity of its company—stood ready. The three top-leading companies—Auralink, Coralreach, and Vortex Synth Systems—had been assigned the most spacious and strategically placed booths, a silent acknowledgment of their influence in the industry. Media crews were everywhere. Some clustered near popular booths, microphones in hand, while others moved freely through the exhibition floor, stopping developers for short interviews or capturing candid footage. Cameras flashed constantly as

“You kissed Dreston?” Daisy chirped through the phone, her voice jumping an octave. “And Corren saw it all?” “Yes,” Cassienne replied quietly. “And that’s the worst part. Corren looked… hurt. I didn’t expect that reaction, and honestly, I felt terrible about it.” She kept the phone pressed to her ear with one hand while the other scrolled absent-mindedly across her tablet. Graphs, projections, and early summit statistics flashed across the screen, but she barely registered any of it. She was seated on the edge of her bed, her legs folded beneath her. It was already the fourth day of the expo, and while final results were still pending, early performance indicators were beginning to surface. Auralink was doing well—better than expected, even. Normally, that would have excited her. But tonight, it didn’t. “But tell me something,” Daisy continued, clearly unwilling to let the topic go. “You’ve kissed Corren enough times now to know the difference. So be honest, who’s the better kiss

It was the fifth day of the Global Tech Expo, and for the first time since the event began, the atmosphere shifted. The exhibitions were officially over. All participating companies had successfully unveiled and demonstrated their latest innovations. Such as software breakthroughs, hardware prototypes, AI integrations, and futuristic systems that left investors buzzing. Out of dozens of companies, only seven had made it to the finals. Their results were still sealed, waiting for the final announcement. But today was no longer about products. Today was about people. The next segment of the expo—the e-sport tournament—was about to begin, and this was the moment many attendees had been secretly waiting for. Unlike the exhibitions, this part of the summit carried a strange duality. Officially, it was labeled a friendly tournament. Unofficially, it was a battlefield where careers were made, contracts were signed, and reputations were born overnight. This was where talent was discove

The moment the countdown hit nothing, the arena exploded into motion. The floor beneath the pods dissolved into a living battlefield—an adaptive virtual combat zone known as Aegis Run, it is a survival-based tactical game designed specifically for elite tournaments. The map materialized in layers: collapsing platforms, floating terrain shards, vertical combat lanes, and shifting energy barriers that punished hesitation. Above the arena, a massive digital clock ignited. 10:00. Ten minutes. That was all they had. This wasn’t about kills alone. This was about survival. When the clock hit zero, only those still active would qualify for the next round. No respawns, no mercy. The moment the barrier shields dropped, the players scattered. But Obsidian_13 didn’t. She stood still for half a second. Her usual style was to study. She always does. That alone drew murmurs. “She’s not moving,” one commentator noted. “Either that’s confidence… or miscalculation.” But then she moved. And i

The silence was deafening. For a split second, no one breathed. No one spoke. Even the massive arena, built to roar, to explode with sound, fell into a stunned hush as the replay looped across the giant screens. NYX’s avatar lay crumpled at the edge of the digital platform, its systems flickering before dissolving into pixels. NYX Eliminated. But that wasn’t the shock. The shock was how it happened. Syntax hadn’t outplayed NYX. He hadn’t outmaneuvered him. He had forced him out, an illegal shoulder-lock executed at a blind angle, a move explicitly restricted in a friendly-format match. The system hadn’t caught it fast enough. The damage registered before the safety override could intervene. And everyone had seen it. A ripple moved through the audience, first confusion, then disbelief, and finally, outrage. “What—?” “That was illegal!” “Did you see that angle?” “Rewind that!” The commentators froze mid-sentence, their voices trailing off as the replay slowed fram