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Chapter 1

1

W hy are the best men fictional?

I stare dreamily at my wall-sized illustrated poster of Sir Damien and Lady Jocelyn, smiling like a fool. He's gazing down at her with such adoration that my insides turn to mush as I imagine someone looking at me like that.

One day! One day I'll have someone just like that!

Turning to the mirror, I add a bit more blush to my cheeks and some pink lipstick. Puckering my lips, I briefly close my eyes as I imagine a man with the face of an angel and the body of a Greek god swearing his undying love to me before he leans down to kiss me.

Ah! A shiver goes down my body at the delicious daydream.

PomPom releases a soft bark, grazing her fluffy body against my bare legs.

The spell is broken, my fantasy destroyed.

I sigh as I gaze down at my cute white Pomeranian wiggling her tail and looking up at me with those cute eyes of hers.

"If only you were a boy, PomPom," I whisper, picking her up in my arms.

She licks my lips, tasting my lipstick and making a disgusted face. A giggle escapes me at her antics.

I give her a treat to distract her for a moment while I finish dressing up and putting on my makeup—all pink and girly, of course. It's not only a costume for me, it's an empowering way of life. Dressing up as Lady Jocelyn always makes me think that the world is my oyster and that I can achieve everything I set out to do. She's a powerful pink princess who is the perfect mix of feminine and badass—everything I've always wanted to be, too.

I'm wearing a pink dress with a fluffy skirt and a fitted bodice that may or may not have an overly revealing cleavage. I might have to run out of the house before my mom sees me. The corset I added on top of it accentuates my waist. Finishing the outfit are, of course, Jocelyn's signature strawberry-blond hair—though I've resigned myself to wearing a wig since I almost burned my hair two years ago bleaching it—and her pink five-inch heels.

Satisfied with my outfit, I make sure to dress PomPom in a similar pink ensemble, topped with a cute pink bow. Taking her in my arms, I open the door to my room and poke my head out, listening for any noises downstairs. A voice echoes from the kitchen.

"Kang Min did? Oh, that is very nice," my mother says, though her tone lacks the necessary enthusiasm. She's probably on the phone with her pseudo-friend Ye Rim—I wouldn't call them friends when all they do is try to one-up each other. "What university did you say it was?" A pause. "Oh, Yale. My Babi is also thinking of applying there. They have one of the best law schools in the country…"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath. I still haven't told my mom that I didn't register for the LSAT—or that I likely never will. Dad is supportive of my choice, but for some reason, Mom got it in her head that the only way to prove to her friends that I was smart was by getting into a top three law school. It doesn't matter that I don't want to become a lawyer, or that my dream is to work in the publishing industry. No, for her it's all about showing that her daughter is not just some ditzy pink-loving loser.

I square my shoulders in disappointment. PomPom releases a soft bark as she senses my distress.

"We need to change strategies," I whisper to her. I quickly take off my shoes. Carrying them in one hand and PomPom in the other, I dash out the door. I run down the stairs and go straight for the exit when I hear my mom calling my name from behind.

"Babi-ya! Where are you going dressed like that?"

My eyes widen. Of course the woman has superhuman hearing—she's been busting my attempts at sneaking out since I was sixteen.

PomPom barks at hearing her voice, so I increase my speed. Mom's thudding steps echo behind as she chases after me, her voice increasingly more irate.

"Babi-ya!"

The car is in the driveway, ready to go. When the driver sees me, he opens the door for me to slide in with PomPom and we quickly drive off.

One quick glance in the mirror and I see my mom gesturing furiously at us—no doubt promising retribution for both me and my dad for arranging my escape.

"To the Convention Center, Miss Bancroft?" Mr. Philips, the driver, asks a few moments later.

"Yes, please. The back entrance. I need to get there early to make sure everything is set for our scene."

"Sure thing, miss." Mr. Philips winks at me.

I nestle PomPom closer to me as I direct my thoughts to our scene.

Every year, my friends and I attend Comic Con and stage a scene from The Five Mages of Akkaya , a popular fantasy book series with over a dozen installments. The Five Mages are a band of misfits, all from humble beginnings. They trained until they became some of the best mages on the continent of Akkaya and they protected its citizens by defeating a slew of villains.

The main character of the series is Sir Damien, an honorable and kind hero who rescues damsels in distress and who always puts the welfare of his people above his own. He is the epitome of a righteous hero, and it doesn't hurt that he is also handsome, with his golden locks, sparkling blue eyes, and muscular body.

A wistful sigh escapes me.

Lucky Lady Jocelyn! She gets to have him all to herself. As his love interest from book one, Lady Jocelyn has been by his side through thick and thin. He loves and cherishes her, admiring her strength and fortitude, and he always includes her in his decision-making. Despite being a pretty girl who loves pink, she is also a great fighter, and over the years, she's managed to achieve the rank of Mage all by herself.

Ah, they make such a good team! Where will I find my own Sir Damien who will see me as his equal and treat me like his queen?

Am I infatuated with a fictional character? Guilty. But real men just aren't the same. Maybe my standards are too high from years of daydreaming with my nose in a book instead of going out and experiencing the real world. But how can I go from heroic Sir Damien who saves the world and wins the girl, to Chad next door who is only a ‘hero' in his video games, has seven girls weekly on rotation, and still lives in his mother's basement?

Of course, there's nothing wrong with living in your mother's basement—technically. I still live with my parents, too, although it's purely because my mom won't let me move out until I get married. But how could I date someone seriously if the only step further would be marrying him and moving in with him in his mother's basement?

Nope. I will pass, thank you very much.

Maybe my standards are a little too much. But I stand by them. So what if I am twenty-one and I still haven't had my first kiss? Lady Jocelyn saved her first kiss for Sir Damien. And if Lady Jocelyn could find her match, then maybe at some point I will be able, too.

The car draws to a stop and I'm wrenched out of my thoughts.

"We're here, miss," Mr. Philips announces.

I beam at him. I put on my heels and dig through my small purse for some cash.

"Here," I say as I hand the banknotes to Mr. Philips.

His eyes widen, and immediately, he shakes his head and waves his hands in denial.

"No, no. Your father pays me already."

"Come on, Mr. Philips. I know it's your wife's birthday soon, so you can get her something nice."

"You remember?" he asks incredulously.

"Of course. Mrs. Philips is a lovely woman. Please give her my best."

When he still doesn't want to receive the money, I leave it behind on the seat.

With a wink, I grab PomPom and head out.

"Thank you, miss. Have fun!" Mr. Philips calls out as he drives off.

Excited about the day ahead, I head to the entrance. Once security clears me, I'm allowed into the convention hall. PomPom is ever so curious as she yaps whenever she sees someone in costume—which is mostly everyone. But like her mama, she's also drawn to pink.

A good percentage of the people present is costumed in characters from The Five Mages of Akkaya . It's that popular, and not only for the main characters. There is a slew of secondary characters who get their story arc, all different species, with distinct appearances and abilities. It's what makes the series so much fun! There is representation for everyone . It's what attracted me to the series in the first place when I started reading it almost a decade ago. Lady Jocelyn is half Asian, too, which made my prepubescent struggles easier since I had someone to relate to—though admittedly, I was still a handful.

My smile grows as I spot some other renditions of Lady Jocelyn. Though we are all doing the same character, the girls have chosen different types of dresses to represent her, some longer, some shorter, some light pink, some deeper pink.

Ah, the magic of Lady Jocelyn! Anywhere else and I would have been ridiculed for my tastes in clothing. Not here, though. Everyone is so positive and accepting. I wish the rest of the world could learn more from this community.

"Barbi! You're here!"

I turn when I hear someone calling my name, my lips stretching into a wide smile the moment I see Sarah.

"You look gorgeous," I gush when I take a better look at her costume. She's dressed as a mermaid, with a blue tail and a small top that only covers her breasts. Her body looks amazingly toned, which is why there are currently at least three guys checking her out.

"Thank you so much. You too. And PomPom, of course." She smiles as she attempts to pet PomPom on the head. My cute baby lets out a loud bark and bares her teeth at her.

Sarah's eyes widen as she takes a step back.

"Just as vicious as ever," she mutters.

I give her an apologetic smile. PomPom doesn't like anyone but me—not that I'm complaining.

"She's my little bodyguard," I joke, though it's not entirely inaccurate. Once, I was out shopping with her and someone tried to steal my purse. PomPom might be small, but she's got the vigor of a dog double her size. She spotted the suspicious man the moment he had his hand on my bag. Before he could pull on it, she'd jumped on him, lodging her teeth in his crotch—not that I taught her that.

The irony of it? I'd had to take a trip to the police station because the man had accused me and my dog of assault. The gall on some people. I should have let PomPom tear out a testicle—would have served the asshole right.

"You're here early. The scene doesn't start until later, no?" Sarah asks.

"I want to make sure everything is in order. Did you hear which scene we're doing?" I add enthusiastically.

She shakes her head.

"It's from the sixth book, the battle between Sir Damien and the Dark One."

"Oh my. That's right before Sir Damien proposes to Lady Jocelyn, isn't it?"

I nod effusively.

"Who's playing Sir Damien this year?" she asks.

"His name is Brandon and he's one of Clarice's friends. I don't know him too well, but he looks the part."

Her eyes sparkle suggestively.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" She wiggles her brows.

My cheeks heat up.

"No. Of course not. It's just acting." I shrug.

"Hmm…" she hums, unconvinced. It's not unusual for scene partners to end up dating. It happened to her and her boyfriend last year. But just because she was lucky, doesn't mean I am, too.

"It is! Besides, there's only a hug at the end of the proposal. We're not doing the kiss."

"If you say so…" She smiles as she makes to leave. "I'll believe it when I see it." She winks at me.

"I swear! There's nothing more to it!" I call out, embarrassed.

People stare at me, which prompts PomPom to bare her teeth at them and hiss.

"Shh, baby. It's fine," I whisper. "Let's go to our corner."

I cross the distance to the spot we'd been assigned for the scene. A ruffle of pink catches my eye—anything that's pink usually does. But as I get a better look, I blink slowly.

Clarice is wearing the same outfit I am—Lady Jocelyn's costume. She's standing between Brandon's open legs as they're kissing passionately.

Someone clears their throat and they stop, spotting me.

"Barbara." She smiles sweetly at me.

"What's the meaning of this?" I ask as I point to her costume. I couldn't care less what she does with Brandon. But I do take an issue with her dress—even the shoes are the same!

"We've decided to change some things for the scene," she adds. Brandon wraps his arms around her in silent support.

"I don't remember being asked about any changes." I narrow my eyes at her.

"That's because we've all decided that I would make a better Lady Jocelyn."

I turn to look around. All the other people are silent, their heads bent low.

"Mona?" I ask my friend, who averts her gaze. "Lily?" She doesn't answer either.

"And of course, that means you're out of the scene. You can still watch, though." She shrugs.

"What?" I sputter. "But… I prepared the decor. I paid for everything…"

"And because you paid for everything you should always get Lady Jocelyn?" She raises a brow. "You didn't even agree to the kiss and it's in the book!"

"But—"

"You are the one who wanted it to be a faithful depiction of the scene in the book, but you changed the kiss to a hug," she continues.

"But that's not a reason to kick me out without even letting me know," I add in a small voice, doing my best to keep the tears at bay.

"Face it, Barbi . You know no one wants you around. You're a stuck-up bitch and no one even likes you."

I blink slowly.

"Do you think so too?" I address the other people.

Clarice crosses her arms over her chest as she comes closer to me.

"Of course they do. Everyone's friendly with you because you pay for everything." She rolls her eyes. "Who would ever want to listen to you blabber about your stupid-ass delusions for free?"

"W-what…" I croak.

Her lips tug up in a mocking smile as she points a finger at me.

"Don't make this worse than it has to be. We all know I'll make a better Lady Jocelyn than you," she adds smugly.

I stare at her unblinking. My throat clogs with emotion as tears stab at my eyes.

I don't understand. I really don't. What did I ever do to deserve to be treated like this? Publicly, too?

"Why?" I whisper. "Why would you do this to me?"

She leans in to whisper, "Because you're pathetic. Not even the expensive perfume you're wearing can hide the stench of desperation coming off you."

I inhale sharply, her words doing the intended damage.

My heart beats loudly in my chest, echoing in my ears. A tremor goes down my spine, my limbs shaking uncontrollably.

"I thought you were my friend. All of you." I look at my other two friends—correction, former friends.

"Another delusion." Clarice shakes her head, feigning a pitiful expression. "Maybe you should get that checked out, Barbara."

She takes a step back as she laughs.

The others join in, all laughing at me.

My corset suddenly feels too tight, my heels too tall. The makeup on my face is too heavy. I stick out like a sore thumb when all I want is to hide away and disappear from the world. My breathing intensifies. The seconds trickle by and I won't be able to keep the tears at bay much longer.

PomPom releases a loud howl as she senses my distress. She wiggles in my arms until I let her go. That little encouragement is enough for her to jump on Clarice. She bites onto the tips of her wig, pulling with enough force that the entire thing falls off her head.

She cries out loud.

"Get your goddamn dog off me," she yells, pulling on her wig.

PomPom hisses at her.

"Avenge me, PomPom," I tell her as I push my chin up.

My cute baby knows exactly what to do as she lets go of the wig just as Clarice pulls on it, the momentum making her lose her balance and fall to the ground. Once there, it's game over.

PomPom jumps on her, biting her dress and tearing the material into shreds.

"Brandon! Do something!" She shrieks. "Take it off me. Do something."

He moves toward my PomPom and I take a step forward, pinning him with my gaze.

"Don't you dare touch my PomPom," I grit my teeth.

They can insult me, but they won't get away if they do anything to PomPom.

His eyes widen in alarm and he freezes.

"That's enough, PomPom. We don't need to bother with these"—I wrinkle my nose in disgust—" people ."

PomPom raises her head to look at me, giving a low bark. But before she comes to my side, she decides to debase Clarice further.

"W-what's that smell?" Clarice whines as PomPom jumps off her.

"Agh!" she yells when she pats her body, her hand coming into contact with PomPom's watery poop. In her attempt to wipe it off, she merely smears it more around the dress.

PomPom struts arrogantly to my side, swaying her hips from side to side.

I scoop her in my arms.

"Good girl," I murmur, kissing the top of her head.

I look up at my former friends and shake my head.

"May you have a…a…" I wet my lips as I try to think of something witty. "May you have poop-filled day," I say before I leave with a huff.

Okay, not the best line, but as long as I keep my head high, I can still make a good exit. After all, I'm not the one currently smelling of poop.

I manage to keep my composure long enough to get out of their sight. Tears roll down my cheeks, and not even PomPom's sweet barks can make them stop.

I was a goddamn fool to think I may have found my crowd. I was even more foolish to think we were friends because we had a common hobby and we hung out every now and then. The more I look at it from that perspective, the more I realize this was all my fault. I thought that if I was nice and generous, I could make people like me. Instead, they only saw me as an idiot—a pathetic idiot.

My makeup is further ruined as I rub at my eyes, and given the pity looks I get, I assume I look like a mess. The only goal I have right now is to get out of here with what little of my dignity I have left.

But as I round the corner for the exit, I almost bump into an elderly lady.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize.

"It's fine." She waves her hand at me. Her shrewd eyes study me for a moment before she nods to herself. "Here. You seem to need it."

I look down at the book she's offering—a hardcover edition of The Fate of Akkaya .

"But…" I blink repeatedly to make sure I'm reading the title right. "It hasn't even been released," I mutter.

It's the much-anticipated thirteenth book and supposedly the last one in the series. Everyone has been going crazy trying to get any type of information about what to expect, but the author has been tight-lipped.

"A gift." She smiles. "For a lovely Lady."

"But... Is it okay to give it to someone? It's an early copy, isn't it? Aren't you under contract or something?"

"I am free to give it away, child. Please," she continues, placing it in my hand. "I hope it will give you some joy on a bad day."

"Wow. I don't know what to say."

"A thank you is enough." She grins.

"Thank you," I mumble in awe.

She nods, and without another word, gets lost in the crowd.

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