Sometimes, Esha wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with her Cloth Fairy System.
Unlike the highly ambitious systems she'd read about in transmigration novels—ones that threw quests at you like a malfunctioning vending machine—hers operated like a sleepy cat. No daily missions. No hourly points. Just vibes.
"You're such an unmotivated system," she grumbled one morning. "You're a waste of creation."
"Host! Haven't you heard?" the system chirped back, sounding far too proud. "Like master, like system!"
"...You did not just call me lazy."
"Lazy, creative, tomato, tomahto."
Still, even with its minimal effort, Esha had to admit—it delivered. The outfits she'd sent to the Salazars had received rave reviews, especially from Leo. The boy had sent her a thank-you letter that could double as a college admissions essay. Why he chose parchment and ink over texting like a normal person, she didn't know. Maybe he fancied himself a royal scribe.
And because that wasn't enough, the letter also included:
• A sketch labeled Operation: Kidnap Esha,
• His thoughts on mango bubble tea,
• And a request for his next outfit to be inspired by his favorite cartoon characters.
"What a sly boy," Esha muttered fondly. "Bribing me with praise and adorable drawings. Fine. I'll consider it."
Because truly, what she gave them was cost-free, effort-light magic. And what she got in return? Priceless connections, endless like points, and the general satisfaction of making rich people look even richer.
———
It was a glorious Saturday. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Evelynn's influencer work had temporarily hit pause due to some rebranding drama with a sponsorship deal ("They wanted me to sell tooth polish, Esha. Tooth polish!"), and Alana had a rare weekend off from her chaotic job.
Naturally, Evelynn proposed a plan.
"A luxury spa. Live-streamed. Sponsored. Free. Full relaxation. Three besties, one camera. You in?"
Esha and Alana didn't even let her finish the sentence. They were in.
The spa in question? The Spring Paradise.
It wasn't just a spa. It was the spa. Seven floors of architectural brilliance that blended modern minimalism with traditional elegance. The kind of place where the air smelled like imported eucalyptus and your reflection in the glass doors somehow looked five years younger.
As they pulled up to the entrance, all three girls stood in awe.
"...Is that marble?" Alana asked, staring at the pillars.
"Imported Himalayan marble," Evelynn confirmed, checking her notes. "Apparently blessed by monks and curated under moonlight."
"I'm not even religious, but I feel like I should be repenting before walking in," Esha said.
The façade was a symphony of glass, golden accents, and delicately carved wooden inlays. It looked less like a spa and more like a palace that decided to major in skincare.
Once inside, they were greeted by a calming chime and a reception staff who smiled like they'd been trained by angels. The air was cool, with hints of jasmine and promises of stress relief.
Evelynn quickly met with the manager to confirm the live stream permissions. The spa had a strict privacy code, especially for their VIP clients, but since their stream would only showcase the general areas, it was approved.
The recording team—Liam and Neesa—arrived shortly after. Just two college grads who had been Evelynn's juniors and were now her full-time crew. Reliable, efficient, and borderline feral when it came to defending Evelynn from trolls.
"Oh hey, Esha!" Neesa waved. "I wore your design to my cousin's wedding and now my whole extended family thinks I'm rich!"
"I am the Cloth Fairy," Esha said with mock solemnity.
Once everything was set up, the cameras began to roll. Evelynn introduced the spa, their plan for the day, and even filmed a short "Before Glow-Up" montage.
Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
———
"What do you mean I can't book an appointment today?! Is this how you treat your clients?!"
A high-pitched voice echoed through the lobby like a dental drill in a church.
All heads turned.
"Oh no," Liam groaned. "That voice. That banshee wail. It's her."
And by her, he meant Vanessa Mitchell—Evelynn's arch-nemesis and spiritual parasite.
Vanessa swept into the resting area with all the grace of a badly-written soap opera villain. Blonde curls that looked like they were sculpted with hairspray and rage. Heels sharp enough to pierce egos. And a face caked in so much makeup it could qualify as geological strata.
"Eve! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" Vanessa drawled, her voice oozing fake joy.
Evelynn forced a smile so tight it looked painful. "Vanessa! What a...coincidence."
Liam leaned toward Neesa. "Please tell me this is a fever dream."
"Oh no. This is real. Vanessa's been stalking Eve's content for months," Neesa whispered. "She copies her outfits, copies her skincare, even tried to CP with random heirs when Eve did one shoot with one. She's like a dollar-store ghost—annoying, uninvited, and clings to expensive things."
Apparently, Vanessa had only secured her entry today by groveling at the feet of some heiress and hijacking her booking. Technically, that heiress was a legitimate client, so the spa couldn't refuse Vanessa without risking a lawsuit.
She had slithered in just as the live stream gained momentum, clearly intending to steal attention and cause drama.
Esha watched it all unfold calmly. Alana looked like she was about to swing a bamboo towel rack at Vanessa.
Even the system muttered in her ear, "Can we block her from reality?"
But Esha simply smiled and reached into her sling bag.
While Vanessa waxed poetic about how she just happened to be here and oh wow Eve, we're always aligned, aren't we?, Esha pulled out a card.
Black.
Matte.
Minimalist.
The kind of card that said "I buy spa chains, not just sessions."
"Excuse me," she said, interrupting the increasingly saccharine conversation. "Since this client here had such a difficult time getting an appointment, we'll give her the floor."
Vanessa blinked. Smugness dripping off her.
Evelynn's mouth parted in shock. "Esha—"
But Esha continued, gently waving the black card in front of the manager. "We'll move our session... to Seventh Heaven."
The manager froze.
Everyone else froze.
Even the koi fish in the spa pond seemed to freeze.
"Ma'am," the manager asked carefully, "Are you saying you hold a Tier 7 Seraph Membership?"
Esha nodded. "I do now. Apparently someone gifted it to me. Thought it was a fancy coaster at first."
Vanessa sputtered. "T-The Seventh Heaven?! That's a myth!"
"Nope," Esha said brightly. "It's on the seventh floor. Elevator button glows gold. Smells like crushed ambrosia and skincare miracles."
The manager nodded so fast he nearly bowed. "We'll escort you personally. We'll also move the stream setup immediately. Complimentary champagne and volcanic ash masks included."
Vanessa looked like she'd swallowed a lemon dipped in vinegar and betrayal.
"But—how—but she's not even—"
"Famous?" Esha tilted her head. "Oh, I'm not. I'm worse. I'm funded."
She turned to Evelynn and Alana. "Shall we?"
Evelynn looked like she wanted to kiss her.
Evelynn grabbed the phone and whispered to the live stream, "Today, friends, we witness fashion, facial, and flexing at god-tier levels."