Accidentally Provoked My Archenemy [ABO] - Chapter 9

“Phew—”

As the door shut behind her, Sang Yu exhaled softly and slowly stepped backward.

Causing trouble then making a swift exit had always been her style.

After leaving the tightly closed room, she turned around to pack her belongings. As she walked, she patted her chest with one hand, trying to calm the excitement that had surged from provoking Cheng Yunan.

She’d always enjoyed getting under people’s skin, but it had never been this exhilarating. Clearly, provoking someone like Cheng Yunan—a top-tier villain—was in a league of its own.

She moved quickly. In less than ten minutes, Sang Yu had packed all her essentials and disappeared in a flash aboard her hovercar.

This time, she was much more level-headed and prepared. She packed everything she thought she might need and told no one. Only her parents received a message saying she was off on a trip. Then she hit the road, hopping between stars until she settled on a remote little planet to lie low.

…

Over a month later, Sang Yu was lounging by a serene lakeside, fishing lazily, when her first call from the outside world came in.

“Talk.”

Reclined on a sunbed, eyes closed behind a cooling silk eye mask, she slung her quantum comm-band over one ear and answered with a sleepy drawl.

The call was from Gu Amo.

“Sang-jie, where’ve you been this past month? I couldn’t reach you at all.”

Sang Yu: “…”

She didn’t really feel like talking.

Truth was, she hadn’t packed much when she left. But right before her departure, she’d set every single smart device she owned—hovercar, AI assistant, everything—to manual, offline mode.

Only her quantum band stayed on her.

Her parents didn’t fuss too much. Although they were worried, they knew her temperament well. Once they received her message and saw she’d booked a ticket, they wired her a hefty amount of star coins, said a few words of advice, then went radio silent.

The real issue was Gu Amo.

That guy loved drama. In the days after she disappeared, he still made sure to call several times daily to report on Kong Tan and the rest of her so-called “rivals.”

Even if he was tied up taking care of Ah Bai, he’d send one of his lackeys to brief her.

It was maddening.

She’d wanted to tell him she was actually a transmigrator and didn’t care about Kong Tan anymore—but obviously, that wasn’t something she could reveal.

So annoying. Truly.

Eventually, Sang Yu stashed her quantum band into an isolation pouch that wouldn’t expose her location, effectively granting herself a long, clean break from the outside world.

A break from Cheng Yunan.

A break from the Central Alliance Government.

A break from Gu Amo.

Perfect.

Only in the last few days, when she noticed the number of missed calls finally starting to drop, did she take the band back out to let it see some sunlight.

She hadn’t even caught a fish yet when—surprise, surprise—Gu Amo called again.

Unbelievable.

When Sang Yu didn’t reply, Gu Amo assumed her signal was bad and repeated, “Hello? Sang-jie, where are you? Can you hear me?”

Sang Yu: “Vacation. What is it?”

This better be important.

Still lounging, eyes covered, she was already running through excuses to hang up on him again.

She hadn’t even settled on one yet when Gu Amo went “Oh! Oh!” and jumped into a new topic:

“Sang-jie, where are you right now? I’ve been looking all over the Imperial Military Academy campus after registration today—I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

Sang Yu: “…”

Registration?

So soon? It was already time for the new term to begin?

She finally opened her eyes and shot upright—only to slump back down again with a sigh and say weakly, “On vacation. Not going.”

“Not going?!” Gu Amo’s voice suddenly shot up in shock and confusion.

He couldn’t understand. When he’d been accepted, his parents were over the moon. They gave him an absurd amount of pocket money and even threw a lavish celebration banquet. It was their dream for him to honor the family and serve the nation.

Sang Yu had even attended the party. His parents had pulled him aside and urged him to learn from her.

And now she wasn’t going?

What was so great about a vacation? School was clearly more important!

He tried to reason with her.

“But why, Sang-jie? You should’ve seen Bai Ren at registration today—completely arrogant. Just because he ranked first, he cut in line and said if anyone had a problem, they could fight him for it. I mean, seriously, he only scored a tiny bit higher than you!”

“He even showed up holding Kong Tan’s hand and threw shade at us—said you were probably too scared to show up, afraid he’d beat you down.”

“And not just him! All of them came today—Wang Zhejia, Lu Zisu, Guang Jiang… the whole crew was there.”

Sang Yu: “…”

She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache forming from sheer frustration.

Gu Amo had listed a bunch of names—Kong Tan and his ever-loyal group of suitors. Former love rivals. Among them, Bai Ren was the official male lead from the original plot.

But if she remembered correctly… hadn’t she already told Gu Amo multiple times to stop reporting these people’s every move to her?

Why was he still doing this?

Was he just incapable of change? Or had he cracked some secret formula for triggering her?

With a long sigh, Sang Yu kept telling herself—don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap…

But she still ended up snapping.

“You sure talk big, huh? Since when do I need your permission to do anything?”

“How many times have I told you not to bring up those losers? Can’t you listen for once?”

Honestly, Gu Amo wasn’t a bad guy. He was decent-looking, loyal to his omega, thick-skinned, did charity work, and had a pretty reliable skillset—just a little too persistent… and never seemed to learn his lesson.

The problem was—there was always someone who couldn’t mind his own business.

And worse still, he loved using Bai Ren and those people to provoke her to no end.

Sure, back then she had been bored every day, chasing after Kong Tan for fun, picking fights, playing dirty. But now? All she wanted was to quietly hide for a few years and wait out the disaster Cheng Yunan would inevitably bring her.

Did he really think she could handle this kind of provocation?

“…But,” Gu Amo, on the other end of the line, sounded aggrieved and indignant. “Last time, you got sabotaged by that bastard Bai—your gland went haywire right before the exam, you burned with fever, and he took advantage of it to beat your score.”

“And this time… it’s such a rare opportunity, and even that loser Cheng-something-Nian—who placed second to last last time—showed up. Why aren’t you coming?”

“If you ask me, Sang-jie, you should be here. Teach them all a lesson. Show them who’s really the boss.”

Sang Yu: “…Cheng Yunan is different. He was just a B-class alpha back then—and a mere illegitimate son of the Cheng family. They didn’t support him. Honestly, getting into the Imperial Military Academy on his own was already impressive. You really shouldn’t—”

“Wait—”

Mid-rant, Sang Yu abruptly stopped.

Why the hell was she defending Cheng Yunan?

After two seconds of stunned silence, she still hadn’t figured it out—but another, more pressing thought suddenly hit her. She narrowed her eyes and asked suspiciously, “What did you just say? Cheng Yunan also enrolled?”

“Yeah, Sang-jie. He was right behind me in the registration line.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

Sang Yu: “…Nothing.”

Her tongue pressed against her upper palate—her brain felt like it had short-circuited.

He was an omega. Why would he enroll in the Imperial Military Academy? To study the arts?

The only omegas allowed in were art students.

But that couldn’t be it. The Academy had an entirely separate satellite campus specifically designed for omegas studying the arts. They even held registration separately.

Which meant Cheng Yunan was—

“Sang-jie, you’re acting weird today. Why are you defending that loser?”

Gu Amo sounded annoyed now. As her number one lackey, he not only had to run errands, manage the others, and take all the blame, but now she was actually sticking up for Cheng Yunan—some B-class alpha turned omega?

What kind of logic was that?

“Alright, enough.”

Sang Yu could hear the frustration in Gu Amo’s voice, but she didn’t have time to explain. She quickly told him to take good care of Ah Bai, said a few more rushed words, then hung up.

She had more pressing concerns.

Needing to confirm her suspicions, she didn’t even bother packing up her fishing rod and rushed back to the temporary hotel where she was staying.

Opening the closet, she pulled out her long-neglected smart terminal, now layered in dust.

Tracking? Exposure? Who cared? Sang Yu powered it on, connected to the network, and wiped the dust off in one smooth motion.

Her fingers flew over the screen. She searched all interstellar news from the past month.

“Enigma”? Hits.

“3S class”? Also hits.

But “3S Enigma”? Nothing.

Even terms like “omega forcibly marked”? Nothing.

Nothing?

Thinking maybe her search was off, she abandoned keywords and instead combed manually through every piece of recorded news from the past month.

Still nothing.

Unconvinced, she slowed down and read them all again. Line by line. Twice.

Still nothing.

Seriously?

Leaning against the old-fashioned wooden headboard, Sang Yu was baffled. There was absolutely nothing on the star net.

Not only had the Central Alliance said nothing, it seemed Cheng Yunan himself had swallowed his anger and not reported her to the Interstellar Court.

This was…

Honestly? Both were equally unbelievable.

The day she marked Cheng Yunan and fled, she’d already caught wind of strange movement. Later, when she provoked him and made her way to this remote planet, she’d heard more rumors along the way.

No way had the Central Alliance failed to notice her existence.

A 3S-rated Enigma? That was an elite classification.

The Central Alliance was desperate for talent. No way they’d ignore someone like her.

As for tracking her? Please. She’d powered down her smart terminal and hovercar only to throw Cheng Yunan off her trail. She never once thought those minor precautions could fool the government.

And yet… all this time, no one contacted her.

Was the Central Alliance seriously just going to let a 3S Enigma slip through the cracks?

Ridiculous.

And Cheng Yunan—he hadn’t reported her either?

He’d been absolutely fuming when she left. Could it be that getting marked and forcibly turned into an omega had affected his brain, too?

He just… let her get away?

Didn’t he feel the slightest regret for wasting such a perfect revenge opportunity?

Or did he actually believe that nonsense she fed him on her way out?

Tch.

She’d only said that stuff to mess with him. Even if she was the Sang family’s heiress, if this thing blew up, the most it could do was reduce her exile sentence by two years.

But she’d still be permanently stripped of military eligibility.

That was why she hadn’t told her parents anything. As long as they didn’t know, nothing would come back on the Sang family.

Sigh. So stupid.

After sitting in silence for a while, Sang Yu made up her mind.

If Cheng Yunan hadn’t reported her, what was she doing out here suffering like a fugitive? She might as well return and live out her days as the Sang family’s spoiled princess.

As for Cheng Yunan in the future? She wasn’t too worried.

He’d enrolled in the military academy under false pretenses—hiding his omega status. Sure, the consequences wouldn’t be as severe as hers, but he wouldn’t walk away unscathed.

Worst case, they’d go down together.

And so, millions of light-years away, a certain someone was still ranting nonstop to his omega about his infuriating boss, when he suddenly received a message from Sang Yu:

“Help me request a leave of absence from school. I’m coming back tomorrow.”

Gu Amo, who had just been passionately cursing Bai Ren and complaining that Sang Yu still hadn’t returned:

“…Huh???