Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

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Chapter 62: Xanthia’s True Identity

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Luciel approached the topic of Xanthia’s parents with a degree of caution.

After all, she and Xanthia shared a close bond, yet she had never encountered Xanthia's parents or heard her mention them. In contrast, during their conversations, Luciel often found herself sharing details about her own familia, brimming with happiness.

Just last Sunday, her parents had driven to the city, bringing with them a feast of home-cooked dishes. Among the offerings was her absolute favourite—sweet and sour pork. The three of them had enjoyed their meal in the cafeteria, laughter echoing around them.

Luciel's parents indulged her in this way, often surprising her with a visit on weekends, particularly after they learned of the cafeteria's dismal food. Each time she savoured her mother's cooking, she felt an urge to invite Xanthia to join, but she hesitated. Their relationship had initially felt too distant for such a bold invitation, and now, with Xanthia’s silence on her own familia, Luciel found herself uncertain.

It seemed peculiar that Xanthia never spoke of her parents, yet classmates who weren't as close to her wouldn’t think to question it. Luciel was particularly wary of broaching the subject, fearful that it might inadvertently cause Xanthia distress. The fact that Xanthia chose to remain silent surely pointed to something deeply personal.

In truth, Xanthia wasn’t bothered by this topic at all. She was no longer the sensitive, withdrawn girl she once was; she had firmly resolved to sever ties with the Papadopoulos familia and rely solely on herself. The system bound to her soul was her greatest assurance—given enough time to accumulate joy and pain points, she would no longer be intimidated by the Papadopoulos familia’s stature; she could disdain them outright.

Although she had decided to distance herself from her familia, she wouldn’t trumpet her circumstances to the world. Instead, she preferred to remain low-key, nurturing her growth and quietly amassing wealth—this, she found, brought her the most joy.

Xanthia regarded Luciel's cautious demeanor with a soft smile. “Sister Luciel, have you been wanting to ask all along but held back for fear of upsetting me?”

Seeing Xanthia unaffected, smiling with ease and contentment, Luciel felt a surge of relief. Perhaps she had misjudged the situation.

Her assumptions had led her to believe that Xanthia’s parents were divorced and that her familia life was shattered—possibly even that they viewed her as a burden, casting her out to live alone during high school.

“Do tell me! I’m not one for gossip; I’m simply concerned about you,” she urged, reclining on her bed, her earnest gaze fixed on the blissful Xanthia beside her.

Luciel's earlier unease had faded, replaced by growing curiosity.

Xanthia chuckled lightly. “Alright, I’ll share, but I must give you a warning: please don’t let it dampen your spirits. It’s all in the past, and I’m quite happy now.”

At that moment, just as Luciel's excitement peaked, Xanthia dropped a bombshell: “My mother’s name was Ella La Fielsola. She was a singer and has long since passed away.”

Luciel was taken aback. The reality hit her harder than any of her conjectures about parental separation.

“Ella La Fielsola... Your mother was Ella La Fielsola? She’s one of my favourite singers! Her old song ‘Multiple Empathy’ was simply beautiful!” Luciel’s voice trailed off, her gaze unfocused as she absorbed the revelation.

But the weight of her next realization was even heavier.

With a calm demeanor, Xanthia continued to recount her experiences, detailing the misdeeds of her father, Demetrios El Papadopoulos, and finally revealing her own identity.

“I am Xanthia, the granddaughter of Nikos El Papadopoulos, the current head of the Papadopoulos familia—the most overlooked and least respected heiress!”

Luciel’s expression transformed into one of sympathy, her fists clenched tightly as she listened. “I can’t believe your father is that infamous Demetrios!”

Upon hearing Xanthia's story, her face contorted with a mixture of pain and empathy. The reputation of Demetrios was indeed notorious; he had garnered considerable attention online, infamous for his scandalous exploits. His current wife, Eleanor La Liam, was a well-known model and hotel magnate’s granddaughter, which only amplified his notoriety.

As a wealthy heir, Demetrios’s reputation as a womanizer had marred the lives of countless celebrities and influencers. Tabloid media loved to exploit his escapades, and netizens often quipped that while one could question Demetrios’s character and abilities, his taste was undeniable—most notably illustrated by his late wife, Ella La Fielsola.

Ella La Fielsola had been a luminary in the music scene during its golden age, enchanting audiences with her ethereal voice and captivating beauty, amassing countless fans who still reminisced about her. Her untimely demise had only intensified her legendary status, elevating her to an almost mythic status in the eyes of her admirers.

One could liken Ella La Fielsola to the notion of favoring a natural look over heavy makeup, exuding purity and grace. Many fans had confessed that they were drawn in by her beauty, but it was her talent that ensnared their hearts.

Ella’s prowess lay solely in her singing; she had penned a few lyrics but never composed music herself. Yet, during her prime, the media had lauded both her looks and talent to celestial heights.

Were one to evaluate Ella La Fielsola through the lens of the system's metrics, her beauty and charm attributes would undoubtedly soar near perfection—an existence that even the current Xanthia could only aspire to reach.

But this was merely the present. As Xanthia matured and grew, it was evident she would surpass her mother, turning the tides of fate in her favor.

The docility of her previous life echoed in her thoughts; she would never forget the radiant girl who had shone on stage, a haunting memory of what could have been.

Alas, it seemed she had inherited her mother’s tragic fate—a beauty cursed with a fleeting existence, departing this world even sooner than Ella La Fielsola. Had she lived to the age of her mother, leaving behind a legacy of original works, the uproar would have been monumental.

Xanthia looked at Luciel’s expression of deep concern, and she gently comforted, “It’s alright, Sister Luciel. Please don’t feel so down—these things are in the past. I’ve made my peace with it.”

As she spoke, she absentmindedly patted Luciel’s head, assuming a sisterly role in that moment.

Then, with a hint of self-deprecation, she continued, “In all honesty, if my background and my experiences were to be broadcasted online, I suspect there would be those who would argue that being born into the Papadopoulos familia is already a stroke of luck. I mean, I lost my mother—that’s tragic, they’d say, but look how the Papadopoulos familia has financially supported me! They'd gladly trade places with me, and I’m the one bearing the burden of all this suffering!”

Indeed, this depicted the current outlook of netizens in this parallel world—

They were insatiably eager to become the heirs of conglomerates, affluent magnates, tycoons of wealth. They resented their own lack of fortune at birth, and if given a chance to be born into a rich familia, they would embrace any hardship that came their way!

Xanthia, however, genuinely regarded this so-called “elite daughter” status with disdain while simultaneously feeling a looming sense of crisis.

Her current ease of life was merely a byproduct of her youth.

Once she grew older, she might very well be tossed aside as a tool for a political marriage—after all, her scoundrel father, Demetrios, was entirely capable of such abandonment.

To echo what the netizens often parroted, if you enjoyed the privileges that came with being born into a wealthy familia, it then became your obligation to return that favor when the familia required it. No wealthy daughter had the freedoms of love and marriage; to remain single was simply a waste of familial resources!

Yet Xanthia could not reconcile herself with this perspective shared by the masses.

Based on her original self’s memories and her current expenses, she felt she had not indulged in any extravagant luxuries or lived a life of opulence. The Papadopoulos familia’s expenditure on her health barely eclipsed what her mother’s inheritance had been, which had been ruthlessly consumed by Demetrios. In economic terms, the Papadopoulos familia was actually in her debt!

Thus, when she utilized Dionysius’s money, she felt no guilt whatsoever; it was almost as if she were avenging the scoundrel father with every expenditure!

Furthermore, she scoffed at the notion of obligations tied to familia alliances. She would have none of that!

At present, the only individual within the Papadopoulos familia whose approval mattered to her was Dionysius. However, she did not believe he could influence those in power at crucial moments.

If Dionysius pursued the path of inheriting the Papadopoulos familia's legacy, he would inevitably be bound by familial restrictions. Otherwise, should he provoke the elders of the familia, he wouldn’t inherit a thing.

Xanthia had no such qualms; she was charting her own singular course. True power resided within herself; she would punch her way to the top—quite literally—as she leveled up and donned her mythical equipment and beasts. No tycoon or capitalist would stand a chance against her when she unleashed her wrath, unequivocally purging any harmful entities!

This was the exhilarating path to power; machinations of business warfare or plots for succession paled in comparison. High-stakes corporate battles often called for the simplest methods.

Feeling Xanthia’s gentle touch along her head and listening to her self-mockery only deepened Luciel’s concern.

To be honest, when Luciel first learned of Xanthia’s true identity, she had instinctively deemed the status of an elite daughter of the Papadopoulos familia to be quite prestigious. After all, the various portrayals of conglomerates in films and television had led the general populace to unconsciously assume a submissive demeanor upon encountering heirs of wealthy familias…

Tycoons sat high above; it was as if this had become a political correctness of its own.

Of course, in the country where merit, money and influence is everything!

But upon discovering the dismal reality of Xanthia’s life—one that hardly mirrored that of a true heiress—Luciel’s fists clenched in indignation!

Just look at the generic clothing Xanthia wore, the meager servings of cafeteria slop—was this truly the life of a privileged daughter?

Luciel couldn’t help but think that her own upbringing had, in many ways, been significantly happier than Xanthia’s. Especially since, after the passing of Xanthia’s mother, there was no one left in this world to care for or love her.

How Xanthia managed to keep such an optimistic mindset in this suffocating, dark environment proved just how formidable and resilient her spirit must be!

Luciel was overwhelmed by her thoughts.

She recalled the scene from the sports meet, where Xanthia had given her all to triumph in the 3000-meter race.

Everything connected—Xanthia’s indomitable spirit left her in sheer awe!

Yet the more optimistic Xanthia appeared, the more it pained Luciel.

System Notification: Luciel’s anguish has increased.+++

At the pinnacle of her emotional empathy, Luciel suddenly snatched up Xanthia, who was clad in pajamas, drawing her into a warm embrace. Her voice quivered as she said, “Li'l Xanthia, you’re not truly happy. Your smile is but a protective veneer. If you ever want to cry, my arms are open; you may weep to your heart's content!”

Caught utterly off-guard, Xanthia found herself under the legendary “cleansing milk” onslaught!

So soft, so warm, so bouncy… was this the great secret behind Luciel’s charm?

However, upon hearing Luciel’s choked words, Xanthia felt simultaneously touched and amused—

'Ah yes, I’m not genuinely happy. Little do you know that while you’re showering me with care, the system is notifying me I’m accruing pain points!'

'I couldn’t be happier; how can I pretend to be sorrowful?'

'Wait, I think I might have a small flying insect summon… in which case, I might as well play along with Sister Luciel. After all, a soft, weepy character is a more appealing and lovable persona.'

Thus, Xanthia decided to flex her acting skills, entering “theatrical mode” while putting on a flawless “crying performance.”

She tightened her embrace around Luciel, as if infected by her emotion, lowering her voice to a soft sob, “Sister Luciel, after confiding all this to you, I feel a lot better. But truly, I’m sorry. I don’t wish to burden you with my negative energy.”

Luciel, overwhelmed by these words, could no longer hold back. The choking sounds transformed into genuine, flowing tears: “Little Xanthia, you’re just too foolish and kind! You should have shared this heavy past with me much sooner. The void left by your familia is something I intend to fill with my lifelong friendship. I, Luciel, am a woman of my word; I’ll stand by you!”

Caught in the moment, Xanthia found herself genuinely touched by Sister Luciel’s sincerity. She had merely been playing along earlier, yet she could sense how real the emotion was. After all, even if she insisted she was content, Luciel would likely remain unconvinced—seeing her insistence as mere bravado, unwilling to share her heart.

Hence, Xanthia wholeheartedly portrayed the demeanor Luciel yearned to see, perhaps causing “crying performance” to be too impressive, thus raising Luciel’s anguish meter…

“Sister Luciel, I don’t need any friendship to make up for what I lack. You owe me nothing; friendship should be mutual. If you treat me well, I will return the kindness, and that has always been my promise! Now, please don’t cry anymore. Let’s find joy together!”

Having spoken these heartfelt words, Xanthia managed to slip from beneath the “cleansing milk” assault. With her soft hand, she gently wiped away the tears from Luciel’s cheek.

Yet, this only made Luciel cry more fiercely. She, a woman of imposing strength, glamorous beauty, and commanding presence, known for her formidable grace, now wept in front of the petite, delicate Xanthia, who appeared as though she could break at any moment. This contrast illustrated just how deeply hurt Luciel truly was.

It was evident that the happiness she had shared with Xanthia had been counterbalanced by her internal struggles.

Luciel felt as though Xanthia had always accommodated her joy, while she took such delight for granted, gleefully boasting about her own seemingly perfect familia in front of Xanthia—was this not rubbing salt into her wounds?

She truly felt she was at fault!

Luciel began to reflect.

“I do owe you! I should have asked sooner; it’s all my fault! I want to make it right; sob, sob, sob…”

She clung tightly to Xanthia, pouring forth her overflowing remorse and sorrow.

Xanthia, exasperated, realized how completely broken Luciel had become. Perhaps it was true that the strongest among us often bore the heaviest burdens. Choosing to embrace Luciel, she decided to cry alongside her.

Let it all out; let it be a grand weep! After all, girls are made of water—crying is their inherent right.

…

However, Luciel was not Xanthia. If it came down to endurance or the sheer volume of tears, she was no match for Xanthia, who eventually whimpered to a stop. A sudden growl from her stomach revealed she was no longer simply emotional but also hungry.

Having barely touched any meat or staple food during their earlier hotpot meal, and now having shed so many tears, it was no surprise she felt famished.

Hearing the sound, Xanthia’s mind sparked with an idea, and she said, “Sister Luciel, I’ve got something for you. I’m quite confident in my cooking skills!” Of course, it was really about her confidence in the system’s recipe.

In a state of bewilderment still ripe from her emotional moment, Luciel, who had always been catered to and had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, forgot to decline.

As Xanthia extricated herself from the comforting embrace and activated her cooking skills, deftly boiling some chicken, it took Luciel a moment to snap back to reality, eyes wide with curiosity.

In that instant, her heart twisted again—realizing the truth: little Xanthia’s mother had passed away long ago, and her father didn’t care at all. Living alone, it was no wonder she had learned to cook so adeptly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Luciel said, feeling uncharacteristically bashful.

“Sister Luciel, you just need to taste the food! It’s only a simple dish, a bowl of chicken soup—very quick!” Xanthia replied merrily.

Indeed, Luciel found herself anticipating it. She was genuinely hungry, and what’s more, this would be her first chance to taste Xanthia’s cooking!