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The Family 22

The Family 22

Chapter 22 What Kind of Man Are You

Jean stared at the team chat as it lit up with messages, her face blank.

She’d seen it all before.

+8 Pearls

Anyone who had ever watched her play League of Legends always ended up blown away. It was practically routine at this point

Getting praised felt like breathing

“Boss, are you going mid again? You can take any role. We’ll flex around you.”

“Yeah, totally. Whatever you want.”

Jean tapped her keyboard and typed.

“I’ll take mid. You guys pick whatever.”

She locked in her champion and entered the match lobby first.

Meanwhile, her stream was blowing up again.

“Finally! Wingflare’s back!”

“I logged in just to watch her play today.”

“Please. You’re not gonna learn anything useful at this level.”

“She already hit Gold? That was fast. She only played once!”

The match kicked off

Jean was steady as everwiping the floor with her opponents and carrying the team with ease, Her performance was clean, confident, and sharp from start to finish

The stream was packed. Viewership numbers shot up and hovered just under the top pros.

Everyone was talking about it–some no–name Bronze player was climbing the ranks at breakneck speed with nothing but

raw talent.

By the end of the match, her win streak maxed out her power meter, and she jumped from Gold to Jade.

Then a private message popped up from someone on the enemy team.

“I’m the coach for KG Club. You ever think about going pro? I’d love to get you into tryouts. If you don’t mind, could you also share your age? Even if you’re over 20, we’re open if the trial goes well

Jean glanced at it and shot back a reply.

“I have school. No time for that.”

She closed the chat and queued again

She wasn’t here for social calls. She just wanted to rank up–fast.

way to Diamond.

After slicing through match after match like a buzzsaw, she climbed all the way

At this point, the League of Legends forums were plastered with her name.

“Two days. From Bronze to Diamond. No losses. Who the hell even does that?

Chapter 22 What Kind of Man Are You

“There’s no way she’s a smurt. Even top players don’t win this hard?

“Let’s settle it: Wingflare vs Deadmark. Who’s better?”

“Winglare fans are getting cocky. She just started playing–don’t drag Deadmark into this”

+8 Pearls

“No real fan is comparing her to Deadmark. She’s been playing for, like, two daysAnyone stirring that up is just trolling

After hitting Diamond, Jean figured she’d log off and call it a day. But she accidentally clicked the wrong button–and queued up again.

She rolled her eyes and decided to just play it out.

Then she saw the enemy lineup–and paused.

Deadmart.

That name flashed across her screen in all caps.

Jean blinked, then grinned.

She hadn’t expected to run into Deadmark this early.

Her luck today wasn’t bad at all.

The forums, of course, went wild.

“Breaking news: Wingflare just matched with Deadmark!”

Holy crap. Weren’t their fans just arguing on the forums? Now the real deal is happening!”

“New blood vs. the legend. Let’s go!”

Deadmark k isn’t old. He’s forever. Put some respect on his name.”

“Wingflare’s been playing for two days. Let’s see if she’s real or just another lucky streak.

“Fun fact: Deadmark is known for wiping out overhyped noobs. Anyone who thinks they’re hot stuff usually gets bodied.” “Deadmark crushes egos for fun. Hope Wingllare’s ready to cry.”

Winston sat in front of his monitor.

His cold, pale eyes locked on the name across from him: Wingflare.

A slow, almost invisible smirk curved at the corner of his mouth.

For the past couple of days, he’d seen clips and highlights of Wingllare’s games.

She was interesting Interesting enough to actually catch his attention.

And now he’d see for himself if she was legit–or just another overhyped rookie..

The live stream lobby was overflowing

Almost every player online had stopped playing to watch this match go down.

Viewers poured into the stream like a flood. The match hadn’t even started, and it was already the top stream of the night.

The chat was exploding

“Taking lots Who’s winning–Wingflare or Deadmark?”

7:41 PM

Chapter 22 What Kind of Man Are You

“She’s been dominating low–rank games. Let’s see what she does against someone real.”“

“People doubting Deadmark are about to learn today. He’s wiped out way better than Wingflare”

“Just one more match until she starts crying

Jean spawned in and headed straight to mid lane.

Deadmark–Winston–was a mid–laner 100.

So it was a clean one–on–one from the start.

Jean leaned forward, cager to give him a shock right out of the gate-

But before the match even hit five minutes, Winston pinged his map and called his whole team mid.

What the hell?

Jean blinked at her screen.

Winston brought all four teammates and cornered her under tower

A full five–man ambush.

There was no escape. No way to outplay it.

She was slaughtered right under turret. First blood, just like that,

And then it happened again.

And again.

Jean was swearing up a storm in her head by the third time,

Winston, what the hell is wrong with you? If you’ve got guts, fight me one–on–one! Stop hiding behind your whole damn team!

+ Pearls

Winston kept calling his teammates to mid over and over again, Jean tried pinging for backup, but her own teammates were stuck on their lanes, barely holding on.

Winston’s squad was too good. They cleared waves fast and rotated mid every time.

Jean’s team was busy just trying not to die.

Within ten minutes, Jean had already died five times

In her past matches, she hadn’t died even once.

Now! Her score was a miserable, humiliating 0-5.

The Family

The Family

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type: Native Language: English
The Family

Summary & Review: The Family

Jean Ginger was dead. A self-made woman who achieved financial freedom before thirty, her life was cut short in a tragic car accident. But instead of fading away, Jean woke up in an unfamiliar, overly frilly bedroom surrounded by stuffed toys. Her head throbbed as strange memories began flooding her mind — memories that weren’t hers. Within moments, Jean realized the unbelievable truth: she had transmigrated into the world of a book she once mockingly read online, The Real Heiress Awakens.

The story she remembered was an outrageously dramatic one about a poor girl named Sarah who discovered she was actually the real daughter of a wealthy family, the Gingers of Blairford. In her first life, Sarah had suffered greatly — betrayed, humiliated, and married to the wrong man. But after being reborn, she vowed to take back everything that had been stolen from her. She returned to the Gingers, exposed the impostor who had been living her life, and won over her powerful birth family and their love. Not only that, she even stole back her impostor’s fiancé — the male lead of the story.

It was a total wish-fulfillment fantasy: revenge, romance, and the triumphant rise of the “real” heiress. But for Jean, it was a nightmare — because she had been reborn as the fake heiress who loses everything by the end of the novel. Even worse, this character’s name was also Jean Ginger.

Still dazed, Jean checked herself in the mirror and nearly screamed. She wasn’t just the doomed heiress — she was thirteen years old. Her tall, elegant body was gone, replaced with short, chubby limbs and a round, childish face. On the bright side, she was years away from the events that would destroy her life. The real heiress hadn’t shown up yet.

Just as she was processing her situation, her phone pinged. It was a bank notification — $70,000 had just been deposited into her account. Jean blinked, counting the zeros again and again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Seventy thousand dollars. For a monthly allowance.

Her pain, confusion, and panic melted away in an instant. In her past life, she had worked herself to exhaustion for every dollar. Now she was rich — effortlessly. She didn’t have to hustle, fight, or struggle. The only thing she had to do was exist.

“Fake heiress?” she thought with a shrug. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Jean quickly decided she wasn’t going to challenge the real heroine or get involved in any melodramatic family battles. She knew how the story would end — the Ginger family would fall into chaos, her brothers would lose their minds, and Sarah would rise as the hero who brought them down. There was no point trying to change fate. Instead, Jean made up her mind: she would relax, play the role of a harmless background character, and enjoy her wealthy lifestyle until the plot killed off the Gingers. By that time, she’d be long gone — comfortably rich, maybe even checked into a luxury psychiatric ward if that’s what it took to survive.

But peace never lasts.

Outside her room, she heard a maid calling her name, saying that dinner was ready but she hadn’t responded. Then another voice answered — calm, deep, and commanding. It belonged to Dominic Ginger, the eldest brother of the Ginger family. The moment he entered, Jean instinctively grabbed a plush bunny and held it to her chest like a shield.

Dominic was everything his reputation promised — tall, cold, and intimidating, with sharp features that could have been carved from marble. He was dressed in a sleek, tailored suit that looked more appropriate for a business meeting than a family dinner.

Jean’s eyes darted up at him. Even though she was technically his little sister now, he looked like a completely different species. She knew from the novel that Dominic was the strict, emotionless type — a perfectionist who treated family like subordinates. He was one of the five Ginger brothers who would later become antagonists in the story, each powerful and broken in their own way.

Still, Jean decided to play innocent. She widened her eyes, her pigtails bouncing, her cheeks pink, and clutched her bunny tighter. She looked like a lost doll — the perfect image of a fragile, harmless child.

Dominic’s icy voice broke the silence. “Dinner. Now.”

Jean blinked. He talks? she thought, startled. In the original story, Dominic barely spoke unless necessary. Her inner monologue continued, mocking his stiffness — but before she could stop herself, something strange happened.

Dominic’s gaze sharpened, and he responded quietly, as if answering an invisible question. “I just got back from work.”

Jean froze. She hadn’t said anything out loud. That meant — he could hear her thoughts.

Panic hit her like a truck. She quickly forced a nervous laugh and said aloud, “Oh, okay…” trying to cover her shock. But inside, her mind was spinning. What kind of weird twist was this? Was Dominic telepathic now? This wasn’t in the book!

Dominic, meanwhile, looked just as confused. His jaw tightened as he studied the small girl in front of him. He was sure he’d heard her voice in his head — clear, childish, and slightly sarcastic — but her lips hadn’t moved. It made no sense.

The tension between them filled the air. Jean tried to smile sweetly, pretending to be the clueless little sister, while her inner voice screamed at herself to stay calm. She couldn’t afford to let her thoughts run wild if her cold, powerful brother could actually hear them.

Still, beneath the fear, another thought flickered in her mind — maybe this was her chance. If Dominic could hear her thoughts, maybe she could use it to her advantage. After all, she knew the future of every character in this story. And she wasn’t going to end up in a psych ward this time.

Not if she played her cards right.

For now, though, Jean did what any smart person would do when facing a dangerously perceptive older brother who might read minds: she smiled, hugged her bunny tighter, and quietly followed him to dinner — already scheming about how to survive in this ridiculous new world where fiction had become her reality.

Because if there was one thing Jean Ginger was good at, it was surviving — and making money while doing it.

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