The Fall of My Target Girl

My name is Joseph Donald. Three months ago, I got a strange mission. The goal was to help the school beauty, Willa Scott, land the female lead in the musical A Dream of Fleeting Life. The system said that once I finished this mission, Willa would agree to be with me. I spent nearly all my free time on this mission. I helped her dissect the script, line by line. I practiced singing with her, even though I'm completely tone-deaf. I stayed up late organizing the sheet music, breaking down complex melodies into simple parts. Willa Scott doesn't say much, but every time I help her, she quietly thanks me. I thought that kind of effort would surely pay off in the end. At last, the results for the musical's female lead selection were announced. Willa Scott was chosen, and the audience erupted into warm applause. When she looked at me, there was a light shining in her eyes. The celebration banquet was set at a restaurant near the school. Before we left, Willa took the initiative and said, "After the banquet, let's go see that new movie." I felt a surge of joy, sensing the mission was almost complete. At the celebration banquet, everyone was congratulating Willa Scott. Some toasted her, others praised her talent. Willa replied politely, but her eyes kept drifting toward the door. I felt a vague unease deep down but didn't dare overthink it. Just then, the restaurant door swung open. A young man in a white shirt walked in, tall and exuding a striking presence. He went straight to Willa, as if the noise around them had vanished. "Willa," the young man said, his voice rough, "I know I was wrong. Please give me one more chance. I only love you." I saw Willa Scott freeze up. Her eyes became complicated—surprise, hesitation, and a hint of emotion I couldn't quite place. After a long moment, she finally looked up and glanced at the boy, "Vincent, how did you get here?" That boy named Vincent grabbed her hand. "I can't live without you. I was wrong before, and I promise I'll change." Willa didn't pull away; she just turned her head to look at me. An apologetic look appeared on her face. "Joseph, I'm sorry. Let's postpone the movie today. I want to have a proper talk with Vincent." My heart suddenly plummeted to the depths. So, everything I did was just a hopeless effort. I was nothing more than a placeholder while she waited for her ex-boyfriend to return. Those so-called thank-yous, those occasional acts of kindness—they might have all been in my head. I swallowed my disappointment and nodded, "Okay, I understand." I turned and walked out of the restaurant. The wind outside was chilly. In my mind, I said to the system, "I'm quitting the mission. Send me home."