Ficorpio
Chapter 1
I was a wealthy heiress, yet I had fallen for a straight tattoo artist.
When my pursuit ended in failure, I lashed out in humiliation and threw a seven-figure sum at her, forcing her to serve me and me alone.
That day, I asked her to tattoo my leg.
Suddenly, floating comments appeared before my eyes.
【The Designated Villainess is back again. Does she not know the heroine is straight?】
【Why is that fake innocent act? Isn’t she disgusting?】
【It’s almost time. The Displaced Heiress’s identity is about to be exposed. Once the Birth Heiress returns, the villainess will be sent into an alliance marriage and tortured to death.】
My entire body shuddered. My voice trembled.
“…Could you have someone else do it?”
The woman’s hands paused as she pulled on her gloves. She looked up sharply.
“What did you say?”
The tattoo chair’s leather was cold against my skin. Half my butt was perched on the edge, my trousers hanging around my knees. I was in an utterly humiliating position.
Claire Bennett frowned deeply, her expression dark and forbidding.
I swallowed and tugged my trousers a little higher.
“I said, aren’t you very busy? Why don’t you let someone else tattoo me instead?”
She glanced at me before continuing to disinfect the needle.
“Thanks to you, I’m the least busy person in the studio.”
The floating comments erupted into a barrage of abuse.
【Why is the Designated Villainess putting on an act? Wasn’t she the one who threw money around and demanded that the heroine tattoo her exclusively?】
【This directly interferes with the main couple’s progress. Disgusting.】
【She’s even taking off her clothes to seduce her. Hilarious! Doesn’t she know that Claire hates gay people more than anything?】
Three months earlier, I had seen Claire for the first time in a bar.
She was sitting alone in a corner, wearing a simple black T-shirt.
A scar ran straight across her brow. Under the bar lights, it looked impossibly cool.
She was tall, with broad, straight shoulders and tightly muscled arms. Everything about her radiated a cold, untouchable warning.
Men and women kept approaching her, trying to strike up conversations. Every single one of them was rejected.
Without exception.
I raised my brows, intrigued. With a glass in hand, I sauntered over and grinned at her.
“Hey, sis. That scar is seriously cool. Want to be friends?”
She lifted her eyes to me and answered coldly, with only two words.
“No time.”
It was the most thorough rejection I had ever received.
“She doesn’t hate women. That’s just an excuse.”
The trust-fund heir beside me leaned close and whispered, “Women who act homophobic are always secretly closeted. Someone like that will fall hardest for a sweet little thing like you once she gives in.”
His words made my heart stir all over again.
Chapter 2
I followed Claire straight to the Tattoo Studio where she worked, threw down a seven-figure payment, and became a VIP member.
Claire did not even blink. Whenever she saw me, she remained strictly professional.
“Are you sure you want a mole tattooed beside your collarbone?”
“What do you mean, a mole? It’s a beauty mark!”
I hurried to defend myself. “I… I’m just a little afraid of the pain.”
The woman said nothing. Her eyes swept over my bare upper body before she spoke calmly.
“You don’t need to take off all your clothes for a collarbone tattoo.”
The studio’s air-conditioning was turned down low. I was shivering from the cold, but I still refused to back down.
“These clothes are brand-new. Who’s going to pay for them if they get stained?”
I would never admit that I had deliberately been trying to seduce her.
Claire pressed her lips together and said nothing more. She approached with the tattoo needle in hand.
She was very close. Her nose was high and straight, and even her lashes were unnervingly long. Her breath carried a cool, clean scent.
I stared at her, spellbound. I licked my lips, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in and kissed her.
The next second, she flung me hard onto the floor.
The woman wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, her brows drawing tightly together.
“Do you do that to everyone? How disgusting…”
Her voice was quiet, but every word landed clearly in my ears.
In my more than twenty years of life, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken to me like that.
I rubbed my aching back and stood up, my eyes instantly turning red.
Then I forced the tears back and laughed in fury.
Homophobic, was she?
Fine. I would disgust her to death.
From that day on, I went to the studio every day and demanded Claire.
Each time, I had her tattoo only a little, and I chose increasingly private places.
From my collarbone to my chest, then down to my lower abdomen.
Today, I planned to have Claire’s name tattooed on my inner thigh when the floating comments appeared before me.
They said I was the Designated Villainess, a stepping stone for the heroine’s love story.
I had stolen Claire’s identity as the Birth Heiress, caused trouble at every turn, and ultimately been sent into an alliance marriage, where I was tortured to death.
A tragic ending.
【Can the Designated Villainess please go away?】
【She wants to tattoo the heroine’s name on her inner thigh? I’m going to throw up!】
【Heh. It won’t matter anyway. Both her legs will be crushed in the end.】
【Does having money make her so special? She won’t even let the heroine accept other clients. What a bitch.】
The comments filled my vision with insults, yet I could not help feeling wronged.
Chapter 3
I had thrown down a fortune so Claire could serve only me from morning to night without taking another customer.
She had less work and more commission.
Any other tattoo artist would have been grateful beyond words.
But Claire wouldn’t even be the slightest bit gentle with me!
Had she never heard that the customer was always right?
I went over this logic again and again in my head. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I was in the right.
And the more wronged I felt.
But I didn’t dare say any of it aloud.
“Are you sure you want someone else?”
The room was dim, and Claire stood with her back to the light. Something about her voice sounded strange.
The floating comments had thoroughly rattled me. Right now, all I wanted was to put as much distance as possible between myself and this walking death sentence.
I nodded hastily. “Ava seems pretty good. Have her do it.”
Claire fell silent for two seconds but didn’t move.
I tipped my head back to look at her, my heartbeat inexplicably quickening.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
Could she be… trying to make me stay?
A spark of delight had barely flickered to life before her next words crushed it.
“You can switch artists. But the credit you’ve already loaded onto your account is nonrefundable.”
The corners of my mouth drooped again.
“It’s not like I need the money…”
“Fine.”
Claire gave a single nod.
One word. Crisp and decisive.
She stripped off her gloves, turned, and walked out. The studio door slammed behind her with such force that I jumped.
“What are you throwing a tantrum for?” I muttered irritably, kicking one of the chair legs.
I lay back in the tattoo chair and stared at the ceiling, though my gaze kept drifting toward the door despite myself.
Disappointment gnawed at me.
A few minutes later, Ava knocked and entered, her face bright with professional enthusiasm.
“Ms. Bennett, what would you like to get? Let me help you out of your pants. It’ll be easier that way—”
It was a perfectly ordinary part of the service, but I reacted as if she’d burned me. I slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch me!”
Then I sprang off the chair and yanked my pants back up with lightning speed.
“W-what’s wrong?” Ava stared at me, utterly bewildered.
I froze for a moment before realizing how badly I’d overreacted.
[This is hilarious. So even you know the birthmark on your leg is too hideous to show anyone?]
[Who does that impostor think she is, acting all proud and untouchable? Where did she even find the nerve to chase after the female lead?]
Countless insults crashed over me. I sniffed hard, grabbed my clothes, and rushed out without waiting for Ava to finish apologizing behind me.
Outside the studio, Claire was leaning against the wall, talking to a young man. They stood close together, their posture easy and familiar as they chatted.