Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 197

Houghton plastered on a frantic smile, bowing repeatedly. "Loud and clear! Understood. I'll have them inspect the other areas instead."

"Thanks, Grandpa!" Vivienne waved at the camera. "Alright, I'll hang up now."

"Don't hang up. Grandpa is curious to see what you're painting. Prop the phone up. I'll keep you company."

Vivienne frowned, perfectly playing the part of a spoiled brat. "Huh? Grandpa, do you think I'm just making excuses to slack off?" She muttered a few complaints under her breath, settled the phone onto the easel, and began prepping her canvas.

Seeing that Vivienne was already mixing paints, Houghton shot a subtle glance at the Technician. The two men quietly backed out of Studio 3.

Houghton lingered at the door for a moment, his eyes clouded with complicated emotions.

It seemed this Vivienne Lexton was exceptionally favored by the Ravenshire family.

The two men stepped into the elevator. Houghton pressed the button for the ground floor, while the Technician pressed seven.

The elevator began a slow descent.

Ding.

The doors parted. Before Houghton could step out, the Technician slammed the close button, glaring at him coldly. "You blew your cover."

Houghton took a deep breath, unable to hold back his fury. "I blew my cover?! Don't you think I know that? And whose fault is it? If I had been a second later, were you planning on murdering Caspian's granddaughter right in front of him?"

The Technician scoffed. "You underestimate me. I'm not that sloppy. I was planning to kidnap the brat and use her to lure the old man out. Then I'd silence them both."

Houghton gasped, his face turning pale. "What kind of backwater jungle did you crawl out of? You want to kill Caspian Ravenshire?"

"I'm from Java."

Houghton rubbed his throbbing temples. Taking a deep breath, he tried to reason with the madman. "Listen to me. Even if today's incident leaks, that man's influence in Athelvia is so deep that we might still survive. But if you had made a move right in front of Caspian, the consequences would have been catastrophic. Forget it. What's done is done."

Houghton hit the open button again and stormed out of the elevator without looking back.

The doors slid shut. The numbers ticked upward.

Two.

Three.

Four.

...

As soon as the voice faded, the studio warped and twisted like a geometric puzzle. The room shattered and rebuilt itself countless times before settling into a space that looked almost identical to before.

Almost.

Because during the reconstruction, a foreign object that didn't belong in this timeline had been inserted.

Vivienne stood up and scanned the bookshelf at the front of the room. With pinpoint accuracy, she located the anomaly.

It was a dust-covered sketchbook, buried beneath a pile of abandoned art projects.

Vivienne pulled it out and gently brushed off the grime.

She took a deep breath and slowly opened to the first page.

Tucked between the yellowed parchment was a black envelope. Inside was a heavily soiled tissue and a memory card.

A short, desperate message was scrawled on the tissue in red lipstick.

"Is anyone willing to save us?"

...