Chapter 1

My twin sister, Melissa, was getting tutoring from our neighbor, Uncle Smith, in her bedroom.

My scream caught my parents' attention.

After that, my mother lost it and moved the whole family in a flash.

Melissa handled the chaos decisively and got herself admitted to a top university.

But after her graduation party, she hooked up with the married guy and turned on me—she sold me to a butcher who was nothing short of a monster.

Now that I've got another shot at life, I'm gonna be the good, obedient little sister.

*****

I stood outside the door, holding my breath, frozen stiff.

Suddenly, my strength drained away, and a sharp pain shot through my head.

I instinctively touched my arms and legs — they were still there.

Although they shouldn't.

"You think you can run? I'll beat you to death!"

I remembered the deep mountains, the heavy chains, the feeling of being trapped like an animal.

That mad butcher, strong as an ox and cruel as the devil, hung me from an iron rack meant for slaughtering pigs and beat me until I could barely breathe.

Then he pressed a red-hot branding iron against my skin — the hiss still rang in my ears.

He smashed my joints and ribs with a hammer, and when he feared I might escape, he drove nails straight through my feet.

I was tortured to death.

My soul drifted free, and above me hung a lonely crescent moon — mocking, yet somehow pitying me.

*****

"Catherine, what the hell are you doing up there? Get down here and work. Lazy girl. I should've never wasted all that money saving you."

The woman's voice snapped me back to reality.

I had actually come back to life.

Looking at Melissa in the bedroom, face glowing with joy, I thought—How could I possibly deny you what you wanted?

*****

"Did you wash Mel's clothes?"

"Did you clean your dad's shoes?"

"Did you iron my clothes yet?"

The woman barking orders at me was Linda Lane—the one I had called "Mom" for over a decade in my last life.

I muttered under my breath, "No, not yet."

Linda snapped, "Look at Mel. Even during the holidays, she's studying hard. And you?"

She was already disappearing around the corner of the stairs as she kept grumbling.

It was exactly like before.

The moment she turned the corner, she saw what was inside. My scream shattered the silence, and in the chaos, the two of them were caught red-handed.

Linda totally lost it, dragged the whole family, and moved us out overnight.

Melissa cried and swore she'd never contact that married man again, promising she would focus on her studies.

Later, she even thanked me in front of our parents for saving her at the last second.

After that, she went right back to being the perfect daughter everyone adored, got into a top university, and acted like nothing had ever happened.

After her graduation party, she took me out for karaoke. I had just finished a glass of orange juice when she sneered, "Do you know what you did? You ruined my love."

Everything went blurry after that. I vaguely saw the married man drifting before my eyes.

Melissa and he exchanged a knowing smile, and that was the last thing I saw before I became a wandering soul.

As for her, she went off to college and kept seeing that man, spreading rumors that I had run away with some stranger.

Linda told everyone I had brought it on myself — that it was what I deserved.

Thinking about all that, I clenched my fists and quietly backed away, leaving Melissa and the married man to continue their "study session."

"Okay, I'm coming right now," I called out.

*****

Melissa was young and she was really full of energy.

By the time I finished all the chores, she and that man were still at it.

"Look at Mel," Linda beamed. "She's Ivy League material for sure."

Richard Lane smiled behind his newspaper, clearly pleased.

Then his eyes landed on me just as I'd finished all the chores, and he gave me a look full of disdain. "You useless fool. Even if you applied to be a cleaner, no one would want you."

In our family, grades decided everything.

Richard had once been the top scorer in his county's college entrance exam, and Linda had been a star student too.

Unfortunately, I was the one who didn't inherit their brilliance — a typical underachiever.

Even worse, Melissa did. She was born gifted, another perfect scholar.

All the suffering in my life came from comparison.

And when the comparison was between two children, it turned into mockery and boundless favoritism.

Whenever Melissa did something wrong, Linda and Richard would wave it off. "It's fine. As long as her grades are good."

Once, an elderly neighbor fell. I helped take him to the hospital. When the neighbor wanted to thank me with a banner for the school, my parents claimed it was Melissa who did it, hoping it might earn her extra credit.

"With your grades," they scoffed, "even an extra hundred points wouldn't help. Mel's different."

When Melissa wanted to learn piano, they said, "Such refined taste. Our Mel's a real young lady."

When I said I wanted to learn street dance, they said, "At your age? Dressing like that? That's not dancing — that's disgraceful."

In my last life, I used to argue with them every time.

Although my grades were bad, I hadn't done anything wrong.

So why did Melissa, just because she was the genius, get to soak up all the favoritism like it was totally normal and her absolute right?

But I suppose that's how it was. The favored always grew fearless.

This time, I beat them to the punch and volunteered, "Mom, from now on, I'll handle all the housework. Mel's aiming for the top universities. She shouldn't be bothered with any chores at all."

Linda had been ready to scold me again, but after hearing that, she just pursed her lips and muttered coldly, "Everyone's got their lot in life. You'd better learn to live with yours. Sometimes I wish Melissa was our only child. Things would be perfect then."

In my past life, I would've snapped back — Then you shouldn't have had me at all.

But now, I didn't want to say anything at all.

In my situation, ticking her off wouldn't do me any good.

I knew better this time. I wouldn't let myself be their punching bag again.