“Ugh...”

Damn it!

That cursed ghost!

Take it back. Take it all back.

Whoever said ghosts can’t physically harm people—take it back right now!

How long had she been unconscious? Sia felt as though her body were waterlogged cotton, unbearably heavy, as she slowly opened her eyes.

The very first thought that entered her mind was resentment toward the ghost clinging to the chandelier.

If it weren’t for that ghost, there’s no way the chandelier would have come crashing down on my head!

Imagining the worst—production halted, cancellation confirmed—Sia gingerly touched her face.

For an actress, nothing mattered as much as her face. Making sure her looks were intact... wait.

Something’s off.

That heavy, jagged thing fell right over her head, yet the pain was far less than expected—or rather, nonexistent.

Did the chandelier... miss me?

Her face seemed perfectly fine. No bandages, no soreness.

Still...

Where am I?

This was definitely not a hospital.

She’d collapsed before from overwork and been admitted to a luxury private ward, but not even the best of them were this spacious.

And those swaying, lavish curtains? That antique candelabrum?

This place...

It felt both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.

Why is no one here?

If someone were nearby, she could at least ask what happened. But no matter how many times she looked around, not a single person was in sight.

Wow... this is unbelievable.

How could no one be around when she’d just collapsed? Where the hell was Hyunseok?

Sia slowly shifted her body.

Thankfully, nothing seemed seriously wrong. Aside from the heaviness weighing her down, she felt no particular pain.

What the—

As she sat up, the loose sleeve slipped down her arm, and her eyes widened.

What was with all this lace dangling everywhere? Was this supposed to be a patient gown?

The nerve of dressing an injured person in something this impractical. Clicking her tongue, Sia pushed herself fully upright.

“—!”

But she immediately had to sink back down. A crushing weight pressed on her body, dizziness swirling through her head.

Clearly, she wasn’t in perfect shape. With a quiet sigh, she waited until the dizziness subsided.

Knock, knock.

Just then, a knock at the door—followed by a girl entering. A young woman, late teens at most.

And then...

Wait a second.

Sia’s eyes widened as she got a clear look at her face.

“Oh! My lady, you’re awake.”

Blank with confusion, Sia opened her mouth very slowly.

“Donna?”

What?!

Her first real words since regaining consciousness—and they weren’t her own voice.

It wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be hers. And yet... it was disturbingly familiar.

“Yes? Do you need something, Lady Camilla?”

“......”

Camilla?

Did she just call me Camilla?

Me—Camilla?

Why that name, here of all places...

Camilla.

The woman she always saw when she closed her eyes.

That woman’s name... was Camilla.

_ Camilla Sorpel _

Sia stared into the mirror.

“Hm... so this is what she looks like.”

It was the first time she’d studied the face so closely.

Light pink-blond hair. Eyes tinged with a reddish hue. A small, neat mouth.

Snow-pale skin, spotless as though maintained daily for years.

With features like this, why had she carried all the misfortunes of the world on her back?

“Anyway... was I really that badly hurt?”

Usually, she’d slip out of this world in thirty minutes to an hour. But this time, there was no sign of release.

“And my body... it moves exactly as I will it.”

She fidgeted her fingers. Rock, paper, scissors... why were they moving?

Until now, Sia had only been an observer. She could watch what Camilla went through, but never interfere.

But now—her will directed everything. Her words, her actions, everything.

As she stared at the mirror, a thought cut sharp across her mind.

That ghost clinging to the chandelier—

In the urgency of the moment she hadn’t seen clearly, but just before she fainted she’d caught a glimpse of its face.

It had looked like her own.

“Come on, no way.”

Impossible. How could she have seen her own soul?

Sia—or rather, Camilla—shook her head. Each motion sent the pink-blond strands swaying softly.

Bang!

“......?”

The door flew open without so much as a knock. Someone strode inside.

That man...

A face she knew all too well. Impossible not to know it.

Even with her refined eye for beauty, his striking looks demanded recognition.

“Hey.”

His voice was filled with irritation. He glared at Camilla, brow furrowed.

“I told you to show up on time for breakfast.”

“......”

“Follow me.”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, spinning on his heel, radiating certainty that she would obey without question.

Camilla watched him in silence for a moment, then slowly rose to her feet. A smile tugged at her lips.

Well then...

She had no idea what was happening right now.

But there’s something I’ve always wanted to do when I saw you.

Step, step, step.

Her pace quickened.

Thud-thud-thud!

By the end she was nearly running toward him—

Smack!

A satisfying crack rang out.

“—!”

The man’s eyes flew wide as Camilla’s hand struck the back of his head with all her strength.

And with her brightest smile yet, she said:

“Sorry.”

You bastard.

****

The Ducal House of Sorpel. Camilla’s home.

After her mother remarried Duke Sorpel, Camilla had instantly become one of the empire’s rare duke’s daughters.

And the one who had entered the household with her was that man—Camilla’s blood brother.

“Really. I was half-asleep.”

“......”

“My bad.”

What could he do? She said she’d done it half-asleep.

Idiot.

He should count himself lucky it was only one blow.

Ravi Sorpel. Camilla’s older brother, a mage of the Magic Tower.

Gifted in sorcery from a young age, now renowned as one of the most talented of his generation.

Handsome, well-born, accomplished—he had it all.

And so what.

To Camilla, he was worth less than the dirt under her fingernails.

Dirt at least had the satisfaction of being scraped off.

Because of him...!

Because of this bastard, she had died time and again.

A lunatic who would throw his own sister into the fire just to ruin his stepbrother. And he dared glare at her?

Camilla pursed her lips inwardly.

Whether it was her half-brother ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Ludville Sorpel or her full brother Ravi Sorpel—neither was worth a damn.

At the thought of Ludville’s face, her expression soured further.

Ludville Sorpel, eldest of the siblings. Duke Sorpel’s true son by blood.

In looks and in swordsmanship, he was the duke’s spitting image. The obvious heir apparent to the ducal house.

Ravi’s obsession had begun with him.

At first, Ravi’s drive was to earn recognition from the duke by his own merits. But besting Ludville was nearly impossible.

Every victory Ravi achieved, Ludville would surpass with an even greater one.

Inevitably, frustration twisted into jealousy and hatred. And at last, into an assassination attempt.

The problem is...

Every scheme, every crime—he always dragged Camilla into it.

Just like that last time.

Her final memory.

By Ravi’s command, she had joined in the attempt to assassinate Ludville. When the plot was exposed, Ludville’s sword had severed her neck.

She’d died countless times before that as well.

Details varied, but the end was always the same: caught up in Ravi’s schemes, and dead beside him.

And he wonders why I hate his guts.

What a shame.

That I only hit him once.

She should have gone for a proper combo.

“...You really must not be fully awake,” Ravi muttered, more bewildered than angry.

And that look in her eyes—

Her mouth said “sorry,” but her eyes said otherwise.

They burned with fury.

Anger? From her?

No way.

She was always quick to lash out at servants, but in front of her family—especially him—she couldn’t even raise her head.

Knowing that well, Ravi pressed no further.

“You’ve made us late. Come on.”

“......”

How could one man’s face be so punchable, front and back alike?

Camilla clenched her itching fists, glaring at the back of his head.

Fine. Another chance will come. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Just wait. She’d land a blow he’d never forget.

So the duke’s at this meal today, huh?

Following after Ravi, Camilla clicked her tongue inwardly.

Ordinarily he didn’t care what his sister ate. But whenever there was a family meal with the duke, he always played the doting brother.

As though he actually cared. As though he weren’t just putting on a show.

Pathetic.