Ghost Exorciser: The Oust Fake Heiress Strikes-Chapter 390: Expose Cassandra

Each word felt like a blade, slicing into him.

His glasses couldn’t hide the redness in his eyes, nor the way tears blurred his vision.

This was his second attempt. His second chance. He had believed... Truly believed... That this time, he would succeed.

But instead... He had encountered Cassandra.

Someone who had somehow copied him perfectly. The more he thought about it, the more exhausted he felt. Anger. Frustration. Hopelessness.

Everything tangled together inside him. His family had abandoned him. His friends mocked him. His girlfriend had left.

And now... The entire internet stood against him.

A hollow laugh escaped his lips. ’What’s the point anymore...?’

Slowly, his gaze shifted. Toward the knife lying on the table. The cold metal reflected a faint glint of light.

His breathing grew uneven. ’If I disappear... it’ll all stop.’

His hand moved slightly. Closer.

Just as his fingers were about to reach it...

Ding.

A notification sound broke the silence. Yale flinched slightly. For a moment, he hesitated. ’Another insult...?’

But... A small part of him still hoped. ’Maybe... someone believes me...’

With trembling hands, he picked up his phone. His eyes fell on the screen.

An email. Subject line: Exposing Cassandra. His breath hitched.

Hope surged within him, fragile, desperate, but real. Like a drowning man spotting something to hold onto. Without wasting a second, he opened it. His eyes scanned the contents rapidly.

At first... It didn’t seem very different.

It stated plainly that Yale would continue to be labeled as a plagiarist.

Yale’s expression darkened for a split second, a flicker of pain crossing his face. ’So even this person thinks I’m finished...’

But then... His eyes moved to the next line. And everything changed.

His pupils shrank. His breath caught. The message read:

"I already know that Cassandra has a system, one that allows her to copy whatever design her target creates and you are innocent."

Yale froze.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to fall silent. The faint ticking of the clock, the distant hum of the city, everything faded into the background.

’A system...?’

His fingers tightened around the phone as he leaned closer, reading every word with growing intensity.

The explanation continued, clear, precise, terrifyingly accurate.

By the time he reached the end... His eyes widened. A method. A way to expose her. A way to turn everything around.

His lips slowly curled into a smirk, a spark of life returning to his exhausted eyes.

"Cassandra..." he muttered under his breath, his voice low yet filled with determination, "you’re done for."

Without wasting another second, he grabbed a pen and paper.

................

Meanwhile...

Cassandra lounged comfortably in her TV room. The gentle clink of porcelain echoed as she set her cup aside, preparing for yet another interview.

She had already become a rising star. Admired. Praised. Untouchable.

But suddenly... Her fingers twitched. A familiar itch spread through her hand.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Looks like my next ’genius’ has started working," she murmured softly.

Without hesitation, she picked up a pen and paper.

Her hand moved on its own. At first, curiosity flickered in her eyes.

’What kind of design will he come up with?’

But as the lines formed... Her expression changed.

The design... It was ordinary. Outdated.

Something that had already been seen countless times before.

Her smirk faded into mild annoyance. "That’s it?" she scoffed softly. "Is this your big idea?"

Still, she continued drawing, following the system’s pull. ’Maybe he’s just warming up...’

Minutes turned into hours. The scratching sound of pen against paper filled the room.

Her wrist began to ache. Then her fingers. Then her entire arm.

The discomfort grew sharper, more unbearable.

Finally... She slammed the pen down.

"Stop it!" she snapped, her brows furrowed in irritation. "Cut the link!"

The entity’s voice echoed faintly in her mind.

"A cooldown period of twenty-four hours is required."

Cassandra gritted her teeth, frustration flashing across her face.

"Fine," she muttered coldly. "Cut it off. Even if I can’t copy him, I can still take designs from someone else."

"Understood."

...................

Meanwhile... Yale kept drawing. Even as his hand trembled. Even as pain crept into his fingers.

He didn’t stop. Line after line. Page after page.

His breathing grew heavier, sweat forming along his temples. ’Just a little more...’

Only when it felt like his hand might give out entirely did he finally stop.

But he wasn’t finished. Not yet. He grabbed his phone again.

And without hesitation... He issued a public challenge.

...................

Cassandra saw it almost immediately.

Her lips curled into a mocking smile as she read his post.

"A challenge?" she laughed softly. "So you’ve regained your confidence just by drawing a few garbage blueprints?"

Her tone was filled with disdain. Yet... She didn’t hesitate.

"Fine," she said, her eyes gleaming with arrogance. "I accept."

At the same time, she spoke inwardly. "Link me to a new target."

The entity responded instantly. "Connection established."

A new link formed. This time... To one of the judges. The very person who would oversee their duel.

..................

The next day.... The competition hall buzzed with energy.

Bright lights illuminated the stage, and murmurs of anticipation filled the air.

Cassandra walked in gracefully, her posture elegant, her expression calm and composed. A gentle smile rested on her lips as she took her seat.

By now, she had already gathered a considerable following. Eyes followed her wherever she went.

Whispers of admiration surrounded her. Across from her... Yale sat quietly.

When their gazes met, he grinned slightly. But he said nothing. The judges arrived shortly after.

Four of them. Respected. Experienced. Unbiased, or so it seemed.

"It’s time to begin," one of them announced. The theme was revealed. A test of creativity and execution.

Without delay... They began.

Cassandra’s hand moved smoothly, effortlessly. With the judge’s mind linked to hers, ideas flowed seamlessly into her design.

There was no hesitation. No struggle. It was perfect. Or so she thought. She finished quickly.