Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Quinlyn'd expected his status to evolve after gaining screen time and interacting with the female lead. But a disposable side character? That was strange.
That was just glorified cannon fodder—the kind who exists solely to trigger plot points before meeting an untimely end. But she had thought Yasin could make the male lead in the end.
Yasin noticed her startled expression. Following her line of sight upward, he deliberately selected a crab claw. "What?" he drawled. "See something fascinating?"
She shot to her feet. "You!"
Unfazed, Yasin continued his meticulous dismantling of the crustacean. His movements were methodical—extracting every shred of meat, arranging them neatly in the shell like a gourmet preparing his last meal.
"Relax," he said without looking up. "I know I'm irresistible, but try to control yourself." He was still tired from soaking so long and hadn't let go of the day's grudge. Seeing Quinlyn distracted, he didn't push it.
"Not now," she cut in sharply before he could escalate the teasing. "Just be quiet for once." Her grave tone gave him pause.
Yasin studied her closely then. She frowned, appearing to be pondering something serious. With a noncommittal hum, he returned to his crab, the very picture of compliance.
In the sudden quiet, his beauty became almost distracting. The lowered lashes softened his typically piercing gaze, leaving only the elegant line of his jaw visible.
The occasional crack of the crab shell punctuated the silence as they sat in uneasy truce.
Quinlyn's restless heart gradually calmed in the peaceful atmosphere. Finding a seat, she abandoned her crab obsession - the sea bass proved surprisingly delicious, especially after days of poor meals.
"You're unusually quiet," he said slowly. "You made quite an impression at that birthday gala. That scarlet dress and icy demeanor while humiliating Zachary somehow won Logan's approval. And you even caught the attention of half Albion's elite bachelors."
Quinlyn caught his implication.
Despite limited tools, he deftly dismantled the crab. Wiping his hands, he finally met her gaze. "Enjoying the crab?"
She nodded. "Very much."
"I'll catch more tomorrow." He glanced outside. "The weather should clear by morning, don't you think?"
Following his gaze, Quinlyn noted the persistent drizzle darkening the twilight. This rain had been relentless. Yet his steady, confident eyes held undeniable conviction.
"Let's all go then," she agreed. "Since everyone wants crabs anyway."
Her sudden compliance amused Yasin. Tilting his head, he teased, "Since when do you trust my judgment? This feels unnatural."
Having reached some internal resolution, Quinlyn ignored his tone. Instead, she dramatically pointed at the crab. "Look. What do you see?"
"A crab?" he said.
"Think deeper," she chided with mock solemnity.
Yasin watched her sudden personality shift with bemused detachment.
"This isn't merely a crab," she declared like a street-corner prophet. "It's the embodiment of our struggle. Proof that we must brave adversity to seize our destiny."
Yasin edged backward. "Quinlyn, before the Guzman family found you, did you by chance join a cult or something?"
Her inspirational moment shattered.
Their conversation continued at cross-purposes, each guarding private thoughts beneath the surface.
Quinlyn figured since they were both destined to be cannon fodder in this story, she might as well drag him along with her for everything he'd done for her.
If she was determined to rewrite her fate, he might as well aim high too—maybe even secure himself a cushy retirement.
After some mental calculations, Quinlyn concluded that, aside from the male lead, no one seemed guaranteed a happy ending. As she turned to leave, she couldn't resist whispering, "So... what do you think of Yalena?"
Yasin's face flickered through a series of quick, tiny expressions before settling into stunned silence. Then, without a word, he grabbed her by the collar, yanked her to the door, and tossed her out—slam, click, and lock. The whole thing was over in less than three seconds.
Glancing back at the crab shells littering the table, he almost felt guilty on their behalf. Tossing her out was too lenient, he thought, jaw clenched. Part of him wanted to yank her back inside and give her a proper scolding.
Outside, Quinlyn knocked once. No response. With a resigned sigh, she accepted that she'd have to smooth things over tomorrow. 'At least now I know he's not into Yalena.'
But life rarely went according to plan. As much as she dreaded returning to the Guzman family and wanted nothing to do with Zachary, avoidance wasn't an option.
She noticed Zachary the moment she turned the corner—tall, poised, leaning against her doorway. Freshly showered, dressed in a crisp white shirt, he had that effortlessly striking look.
The hallway was empty. She barely glanced at him as she moved to unlock her door, pretending he didn't exist.
But he reached out to stop her. His fingers were smooth, pale—nothing like Yasin's rough, calloused grip. The kind of hands that made people pause mid-scroll.
She stopped. "What?"
"We need to talk," he said.