Fast forward again to the first day her life, 8:00 AM.

“Good morning. Ms. Pandora.”

Pandora’s day began with the voice of the doctor who came to examine her eyes every morning.

A young doctor with a “setting” to be exact.

The doctor came to see Pandora every day, but he didn’t seem to have a close or personal relationship with her.

He asked her a few perfunctory questions, like if she had any eye pain or if her vision was more blurry than yesterday, prescribed some medication, and left.

He didn’t come closer to look into her eyes or check for any other pain.

“?”

Pandora stumbled, picking up the medicine the doctor had left on the table. It was a clear potion in a small bottle.

‘Should I put this in my eyes or in my mouth?’

No one had told her how to use it, so she was stumped.

‘Let’s try it.’

Like a baby taking everything it can get its hands on to explore the world, Pandora, twenty-two years old but practically five minutes old, popped the potion into her mouth.

There was no flavor. Lukewarm and…… a little bit bitter?

“Yuck, I can’t eat it, I don’t know!”

She spits it back out as the maid who entered the room after seeing off the doctor stamped her foot, indicating that Pandora’s choice was the wrong answer.

9:00 AM. After breakfast, washing, and grooming with the help of the maid, Pandora is sent to the workshop.

The room smelled of oil and was lined with every artistic tool imaginable, from pastels to watercolors, oil paints to charcoal.

“Awesome. This is so cool…….”

The artist’s soul coursing through Pandora’s veins, or rather, the artist’s soul embedded in her data, responded.

Her fingertips tingled with uncontrollable excitement as she examined each of the expensive paints.

Instinctively, Pandora sat down in front of her easel and picked up her brush.

One in the afternoon. After lunch in her studio, brought to her by a maid, Pandora was placed in a carriage and driven to the museum. She was to greet the guests at the exhibition. This is Pandora’s solo exhibition.

When Pandora arrived at the museum, she was happy to greet the visitors.

Even though the paintings in the museum weren’t her own, they were “set up” to be painted by her, and the crowds of guests were just extras for an event for just two people: the main character, Vivian, and her date.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and joy that she had accomplished something.

The greetings and lengthy announcements came out of Pandora’s mouth automatically. She hadn’t practiced or even memorized them.

It was as if the game was forcing her to progress through the story, controlling Pandora’s mouth.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to have your body controlled by something you couldn’t see, but the newborn Pandora chose to look at it as an interesting and fun experience.

“Well, have a good time.”

After their conversation, the couple walked past Pandora and deeper into the museum.

Under the control of the game, Pandora walked up to the wall with her staff, groped for the toadstool, and flipped the switch.

Ding.

The room went black.

The entire windowless museum was plunged into pitch-black darkness, and the audience gasped, followed by the startled screams and shouts of the main couple.

‘Oh, this is it. Exciting Art Museum event. The swinging bridge effect. The reason I was made.’

She didn’t realize she had to manually turn off the lights.

Pandora squatted against the wall out of sight, surveying the creepy museum interior, and raised her toadstool just as the couple’s tension was at its peak.

After apologizing profusely for the inconvenience and sending the guests on their way, with the power out, it was 6 p.m.

As she left the museum and headed home, she felt the grip on her body loosen.

“Ugh. I’m tired.”

As soon as Pandora crossed the threshold of her room, she laid down on the carpeting on the floor. The thick threads of the carpet tickled her pressed cheeks.

She hadn’t realized it because time had flown by so quickly, but her skinny little body was incredibly weak.

Her whole body was sore and tired, as if she’d been climbing a mountain when she hadn’t done much.

‘Still, I’m proud to have done my part.’

Pandora’s job was done. Now that she’s built up the couple’s likability with the exhibition event, they’re on their own, frying and stir-frying their way to the ending.

After dinner, a bath, and rolling in bed, Pandora happily contemplated what to do tomorrow.

‘I saw a lake on the carriage ride over, why don’t I go on a picnic? I could get some treats from the bakery, go for a walk, and go boating…….’

The ticking of the clock sounded like a lullaby.

Pandora rubbed her tired eyes and looked at her desk clock. The clock was ticking toward 12:00.

‘It’s too late. I should go to bed,’

11:59 p.m., 59 minutes, 59 seconds.

The hands came to a screeching halt. With a dull thud, it retraced its steps.

“Huh?”

Her vision blurred as she watched the hands spin in reverse, then snapped back into focus.

“Good morning. Miss Pandora.”

Pandora was back again, June 9, 8:00 a.m.

???????? ?? ???

Once, twice, three times. The same day repeated itself.

Pandora tore up her calendar with today’s date on it and threw it in the trash, but when she closed her eyes at night and opened them again, June 9th was there, along with her calendar.

She gets examined by the doctor, paints in her studio, goes to the art museum to guide the main couple, comes home to collapse and rest, then it’s June 9 again.

The only thing that changed in this copy-pasted day was the female protagonist Vivian’s date: she took turns bringing four different men, all of whom were playable characters in <Villain’s Way of Love>.

Pandora could see the faces of the four men, each of whom the game’s illustrator must have shaped by grinding their soul and wrist into the most handsome of men, but her vision was blurry and she was unmoved by the idea of them being fish in another fishbowl.

Whether they were frying sesame seeds or beans, it only fueled her determination to get out of this infinite loop as soon as possible and move on to tomorrow.

On the twentieth June 9th, the voice of the doctor came to Pandora’s firmly grumpy ears.

“Good morning. Miss Pandora.”

“I’m not well, doctor.”

“No pain in your eyes?”

I was ignored.

Pandora adjusted her posture stiffly and wrinkled her nose in frustration.

“Why don’t you ask me what’s wrong?”

“Is your vision any blurrier than it was yesterday?”

“I don’t have yesterday and I don’t have tomorrow, they don’t exist, there’s only today.”

“I’ll leave the medicine here.”

Ignored again.

Pandora’s posture and facial expression became even worse.

“Noi! Can’t you at least pretend to listen when a person speaks to you? I’m a patient, after all. You get paid to do this…….”

“Bye then.”

“Ugh. Wait a minute, doctor. I’m sorry, I’m not going to make a scene, so don’t go. I’ll behave myself, doctor. Doctor? Doctor! Doctor! Hey, doctor, you punk!”

The footsteps quickly moved away, despite Pandora’s plaintive calls. A maid came over to attend to her as she sat there in despair.

“Miss~ do you have anything to say to the doctor?”

“No! I’m just upset! I’m angry!”

Pandora grabbed a pillow and covered her mouth, swallowing down her rising anger.

‘Even if I tell him, I’ll be back to where I was this morning, and no one will remember.’

Pandora tried to plead with her maid, Anna, but it only made her mouth hurt. No one but Pandora realized that time kept repeating itself.

Or perhaps their souls have gone on to tomorrow, leaving Pandora stranded here, alone and abandoned.

Unlike the other NPCs who follow the main storyline and appear from time to time as they progress through the story, Pandora exists solely for the Exciting Art Museum event.

Pandora on June 9th.

The date is so ominous, the overlapping numbers look like Mobius strip.

It’s a spiral with no way out, mocking her for never being able to escape.

She wishes time could be turned back and Pandora’s memory erased.

Then she wouldn’t know it was repeating itself, and she’d just be happy.

She wondered if the problem was that she had awakened too early before her body was even formed.

Was it because she eavesdropped on the game developers’ discussions and realized the world was a game?

Pandora wondered if anyone else knew the secret she knew. She quickly caught up with the servants wandering around the mansion and told them that this world was in a dating simulation game.

“A game? Ah~ would you like to play a game of cards? Miss?”

“No! A love simulation game!”

“Aha! Relationships? That’s my specialty, young lady, have you met someone you like?”

The conversation was lost.

Her chest felt like she’d swallowed a hundred sweet potatoes.

Pandora wanted to send a signal to the creators of this world and of the ‘Enchanted Love’ Company that had made her, and ask:

‘What am I?’

If everyone else is living their lives as normal, not knowing anything, why is she he only one…….

She felt like the only blemish on a perfect game world, a malfunctioning foreign object.

But ever since she first opened her eyes in her white bed, Pandora hasn’t heard their voices.

Even if she does hear them again someday, she doesn’t know if her tiny voice, a mere creature, will be able to reach them.

The only consolation was that Pandora’s paintings in her studio were not reset.

She would have lost the will to live and gone truly mad if they had been lost to time.

Pandora poured all of her accumulated loneliness, anxiety, and depression onto the canvas.