But the bridesmaids only laughed harder in the corner, filming with their phones.
"Come on! The livelier the games, the luckier Eliza's wedding will be!"
"Don't hold back—she loves men!"
Very quickly, they started finding more and more red envelopes on me.
But calling it a "search" was a joke—they were openly taking advantage of me, hands creeping wherever they pleased.
I had no idea how many times I'd already been grabbed.
Shame and fear tangled together, suffocating me.
Humiliation surged up like a wave, and tears spilled before I could stop them. But they didn't care at all.
"What are you crying for? It's just part of the game!"
"Yeah, it's not like we're taking a piece of your flesh!"
The bridesmaid picked up the envelopes they'd taken off me, counted them, and sighed dramatically. "Only eighty-seven? That's all?"
Right after that, all of them turned their gaze toward my dress.
Those eyes were shameless, predatory—devoid of restraint.
I immediately pressed my legs together, my voice shaking.
"That's enough! What you're doing is illegal!"
Just then, the bedroom door opened.
Eliza, who had been hiding inside the whole time, leaned lazily against the frame.
Smiling, she said, "Keep searching."