All along the way, the car cut through the city's busy streets. Kania pressed her forehead against the window, staring outside with an expression full of anguish. The tightness returned to her chest—a lingering echo of sorrow from the original owner of the body, who had truly felt cast aside by her own family.
“What the hell is this?” Kania gently patted her own chest, protesting the sadness she had never invited. “You’re not allowed to be sad, Dewi. Being all mopey like this won’t change anything. From now on, you have to be strong. If they treat you like trash, we’ll show them who really has value in that house.”
The car finally stopped in front of an imposing black wrought-iron gate. The gate opened automatically, welcoming them into the courtyard of a massive, luxurious contemporary-style home. Tall pillars supported the two-story building, complete with a beautifully maintained flower garden and a row of luxury cars in the garage. Yet despite its splendor, the house felt utterly empty and cold to Kania.
The driver led her inside through a side door near the kitchen, avoiding the main hall, which was being decorated with glittering pink and silver party decorations. “Miss... your room is in the back,” the driver said, pointing toward a narrow hallway near the laundry area.
Kania stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in shock. “What?”
The driver furrowed his brow in confusion as he stared at Kania. “Huh... hasn’t your room always been back there, Miss? Why are you surprised?”
Kania quickly composed her expression, realizing she had nearly exposed how strange her behavior was. “Ah... yes, all right. I forgot. My head’s a little dizzy after leaving the hospital.”
“In that case, I’ll excuse myself and go up front to help carry the party supplies, Miss.” The driver gave a slight bow, then turned and walked away. Kania continued alone down the somewhat damp, narrow hallway. At the end stood a plain wooden door without a single carving. She turned its slightly rusted handle and pushed it open gently.
Creeeeak...
The sight that greeted Kania was instantly heartbreaking.
The room was incredibly cramped, perhaps only two by three meters—far more like a maid’s room or a storage closet than the bedroom of a wealthy family’s daughter. There was only a single wooden bed with a thin mattress that had already sagged in the middle, a two-door wardrobe with peeling paint, and a small study desk in the corner.
A simple wooden picture frame stood atop the dusty desk. Kania stepped closer and picked it up. The photograph showed a long-haired girl with her hair tied in a ponytail. Her face was guileless and innocent, without a trace of makeup. Dark circles beneath her eyes revealed her exhaustion, and though her lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes radiated profound anguish.
Kania gazed at the picture frame for a long moment before shifting her attention to the cloudy mirror hanging above the desk. She studied her own face, now free of wounds, yet still carrying an air of fragility and malnutrition.
“Is this me now?” Kania whispered softly to her reflection. “Occupying the body of such an innocent girl, one so full of sadness and suffering?”
Kania placed the photograph back on the desk, her hand gripping it tightly.
“But it’s all right, Dewi,” Kania said firmly, staring sharply into her own eyes in the mirror. “Your old life ended in this cramped room. From this very moment on, we’ll make everyone in this luxurious house kneel and regret every injustice they’ve ever inflicted on you!”