Chapter 1

I was bound to a "Sickness and Transmigration" system.

I woke up in the body of Emily Sterling, the true daughter of a wealthy family—the one everyone looked down upon.

Everyone adored the carefully cherished fake daughter who had been with the family for sixteen years.

My three older brothers, afraid I might take anything that belonged to their beloved adopted sister, mocked and belittled me at every turn.

My biological parents, worried my presence would hurt their precious girl, poured all their affection and compensation onto her instead.

None of them ever stopped to consider how I might feel.

They mistook my quiet longing for family as a threat—as petty jealousy.

Later, I was dying.

It was then that my second brother found the diary hidden beneath my pillow.

They completely broke down.

I was bound to a system that transmigrated me into a sickly body.

I woke up as the real daughter, Emily Sterling, who had been brought back to the wealthy Sterling family six months ago.

On my first day here,

I was drenched by a plate of food thrown right at my face.

Hot, freshly made curry sauce dripped from my cheek down to my neck, and pieces of fish rolled off my clothes onto the floor.

It stung.

I stared blankly at the boy in front of me.

There wasn't a trace of emotion in my dark eyes.

Everyone else was startled by his actions, too.

Mrs. Sterling gasped, "Damien, what on earth are you doing?!"

Damien Sterling's face showed a flicker of regret, but his words were full of blame.

"It's because she walks around with that dead look on her face! Didn't you hear Sophia trying to talk to her?"

Sophia immediately put on a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was because of me…"

She looked at me with apologetic eyes.

"Damien didn't mean it. Viv, can I apologize for him?"

Damien wouldn't have it.

"Who does she think she is, to deserve an apology from you? Sophia, why do you even bother with her?!"

I gave a faint, cold smile.

I really wanted to know—what did they think the original Emily was worth?

I looked at Sophia, surrounded by her three brothers, wearing a pristine white dress, her hair perfectly styled.

And then there was me, stained yellow with curry, reeking of food without even having to look down.

Sophia.

The family's treasured jewel.

That name was never meant to be hers.

I ignored Sophia.

I picked up the one remaining piece of fish that had landed on my lap, mixed it with the leftover sauce on my lips, and swallowed.

It didn't taste like what I remembered.

I got up to leave.

"I'm full. I'll go back to my room now. Thank you."

As I turned, I met the worried gaze of the housekeeper, Maria. I gave her a faint smile.

The dining table fell into an awkward silence.

Mr. and Mrs. Sterling looked displeased.

The oldest brother, Michael Sterling, said sternly, "Damien, you went too far this time. Emily didn't do anything."

In my original world, I was already dead.

Stage four stomach cancer. Died at eighteen.

I died from the pain.

All alone.

Not a single person by my side.

Besides that one piece of fish just now, I hadn't eaten real food in almost three months.

Maybe the system took pity on me and brought me to this world.

This body also has stomach cancer.

But it hasn't reached the terminal stage yet.

The system told me the original girl took sleeping pills and ended her life today.

Frequent stomach pains and coughing up blood made her realize something was wrong.

But she was too afraid to speak up—too scared to trouble Sterlings.

Too scared to make her family hate her even more.

So she chose to leave this world quietly.

How foolish. Sterlings are rich—with treatment, she might have had a chance.

This family is a joke.

They didn't even notice their own daughter was sick after having her back for half a year.

"Why did I come here?"

A girl who suffered just like me.

Also an orphan since childhood.

Also had stomach cancer.

Maybe she was a little luckier than me.

She was found by her biological parents at sixteen.

Or maybe she was even more unfortunate.

She never got to feel a single ounce of unconditional love before she became an angel.

The system stayed silent.

"My arrival seems to have made the symptoms worse?"

Feeling the blood in my throat, I asked the system.

The system replied, "Yes. Same as your original condition. You might not make it past eighteen."

"But with treatment—"

I cut it off flatly. "I'm not treating it."

Whatever. Sooner or later, it's all the same. Besides, I don't want to live.