chapter 1
When I transmigrated here, the story was already nearing its end.
The female lead, the true daughter, had suffered her mother’s cold stares, her father’s scoldings, her brother’s sneers, and the fake daughter’s slander and scheming.
In the end, her parents stayed healthy, her brother became successful at a young age, and the fake daughter lived a comfortable life.
The female lead, the symbol of truth, goodness, and beauty, had terminal cancer.
The System chattered on beside me: “Host, don’t worry, this is just the buildup.”
“In five days, it’ll be your twentieth birthday.”
“Your parents will go celebrate the fake daughter’s birthday party and pay no attention to you at all.”
“That’s when you leave a suicide note revealing all the truth, then swallow the pills and die.”
“When your parents come to see you again, they’ll only find your cold, dead body.”
“This move strikes right at their hearts. They’ll be wracked with regret and tears.”
I cut in: “Strike at their hearts?”
“Never mind whether you actually strike their hearts—what about the part before that, the ‘kill someone’ step?”
The System choked for a moment, then said agitatedly: “Kill? How can you kill?”
“You’re the embodiment of truth, goodness, and beauty. You have to forgive them. That way, after you die, they’ll suffer even more.”
“Of course they need to keep living—only then can they drown in pain for the rest of their lives.”
So noisy.
I ignored the System’s endless prattling.
I looked around the hospital room.
The floor was damp and moldy, the iron frame of the bed rusted.
Water dripped from the windowsill, leaving murky trails.
In the dark, damp corner, a fat insect crawled on its bristly body.
The whole room gave off a gloomy, lifeless atmosphere.
The female lead’s family was filthy rich, yet she’d ended up in this hospital room.
Because her parents had listened to the fake daughter’s instigation and believed the female lead was faking her illness and throwing a tantrum.
So they’d cut off her living expenses.
And the fake daughter—the only one who knew the female lead’s true condition—had used her connections to have her sent to a private, shady hospital.
That hospital had no proper license. God knows how many wronged souls had died under its scalpel.
I smiled softly.
Good.
A hospital full of wronged souls, a hospital room with terrible feng shui.
And on top of that, I was wearing a bright red dress.
The System was still screeching: “After you die, they can never have you again.”
“From now on, their entire lives will be filled with nothing but pain and regret.”
“This little act of ‘After I die, they all go crazy’ is simply amazing!”
I asked coldly, “If I don’t take the pills, how long can I live?”
The System replied, “Half a month.”
No real difference.
I stared straight at the mirror facing the head of the bed.
The mirror was shattered, reflecting my pale, withered figure.
The fake daughter had placed it there on purpose.
So the female lead could see herself like this every moment, consumed by disease.
I picked up the fruit knife beside me and cut my palm.
The System was stunned for a moment, then said excitedly: “Host, are you going to hurt yourself?”
“Great. After you die, they’ll find the wound on your body, and their guilt toward you will reach its peak.”
“But don’t touch your face. When you die, your face should be as pure and flawless as an angel’s.”
“That way, you can stir up their guilt even more.”
But then, the System fell silent.
It watched as I traced obscure, sinister symbols on the mirror.
“Host, what are you—”
The clock at the dead of night struck.
Before the System could stop me, I raised the knife.
And slashed it across my throat.
Blood sprayed out.
After a few seconds of silence, the System let out a sharp shriek.
“No! Dying in such an ugly way will only make them think you’ve lost your mind. They’ll only hate you more!”
“You should die peacefully and serenely on your birthday after taking the pills! Push the emotion to its peak!”
“Your task has failed!”
Suddenly, its voice turned startled.
“You… what is this…?”
In front of the mirror, I twisted my body and emerged from the bloodstains.
Before I’d been thrown into this book, I had already been a wandering wild ghost.