Page 77 of Sweet Nightmare

That signature “If you get close I’ll bite” expression? Check.

As always, she ignored every camera.

As always, she looked painfully iconic.

As always, the internet collectively lost its remaining brain cells.

Nobody knows why the heiress is in Seoul, but theories are already spiraling, from a fashion campaign to a surprise Olympic comeback.

But hey…whatever she’s planning...We’re sat, Ice Princess.

nine

. . .

Winter Storm

“The ocean never asks a jellyfish to become a shark.

Love shouldn’t ask people to become something they’re not either.” — A

“Okay… damn.” Mika’s voice booms beside me, pulling my attention from my phone.

After a long flight and an even longer drive to whatever remote corner of South Korea my mother’s campaign dragged me to, I have little patience left.

“Are you seeing this, menace?”

I resist rolling my eyes at the nickname. If she wants a reaction from me, she should probably put more effort into the insult because her creativity is lacking.

“Menace,” she repeats.

With a sigh, I look up from the article my sister, Allegra, sends me. It’s from The Daily Dose of Art, a social media page dedicated almost exclusively to documenting my existence. The concept is mildly concerning. If I’m being honest, I’ve always found the concept mildly concerning. A stranger being that invested in another person’s life seems like the beginning of a documentary I have no interest in starring in yet here we are. Then Stevie introduced me to Alana, the girl behind the account. She started the account in middle school, and, annoyingly, she’s delightful. A little unhinged, hopelessly pink, and cheerful enough to make me question whether she’s ever had a bad day in her young life.

Naturally, my mother and Stevie adore her.

Somehow, she grew on me, too. She’s one of the few accounts I follow from my personal page, alongside my family, Stevie, Mika, and our businesses.

“Earth to Artemis,” Mika says, still staring out the window.

“I heard you the first time.”

Wow feels painfully inadequate for what lies before us.

You see, I’m not easily impressed. Growing up surrounded by beauty does that to you, especially when your parents are two artists who consider extraordinary things perfectly reasonable household décor and spontaneous trips to the world’s most beautiful places an acceptable excuse to skip school.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

My brother shares my indifference. Allegra, meanwhile, gets emotionally invested in an ant carrying something heavier than itself. She once cries over a ladybug.

I would’ve drowned the colony.

We all have our strengths.

Extraordinary has always been ordinary to me.

The SUV climbs higher into the mountains as tiny flakes dance across the windshield before the wipers sweep them away, only for more to take their place seconds later. I find myself watching the patterns they leave against the glass.

I’ve never liked uncertainty. I like knowing exactly what’s happening, where I’m going, and preferably why. Unfortunately, this entire situation seems determined to test my patience.