"I always feel out of sync with everyone around me, stumbling through life in pain. Everyone thinks I'm abnormal—and they're right, because I am abnormal. I don't want to be normal!!"
Isabella Swan flipped through the diary left behind by her predecessor. Between the lines, she could see that the original owner had some psychological struggles. Years of rejection had left her exhausted.
In an effort to fit in, she forced herself to conform—to her teachers, classmates, mother, and even her mother's new husband.
She joined clubs, went shopping with friends, watched boys play basketball, awkwardly participated in debates, volunteered for random weekend causes, and talked about topics she didn't care about. She tried so hard to blend in, to avoid being labeled a freak.
But effort doesn't always guarantee results. The girl's delicate features grew heavy, her bright smile dulled. Despite all her struggles, she was still branded with labels like weirdo, quiet, and antisocial.
Depressed and overwhelmed, she suffered a panic attack during a cruel prank—and that was when the transmigrator took over.
"Such a naive child. If someone messes with you, fight back!" Isabella Swan rummaged through her predecessor's makeup, carefully applying primer, foundation, powder, eyebrow pencil, and lipstick to soften her sickly pallor. Studying her reflection, she nodded in approval.
This was the real reason she'd been ostracized.
"I'm just too beautiful."
She could've been a princess who commanded the world, yet she'd lived like a miserable servant. Isabella Swan pitied her.
The fantasy of storming into school and making every bully kneel while singing Conquer remained just that—a fantasy. Her predecessor's abysmal social skills had led her mother to arrange a transfer instead.
The cold, impersonal notice snapped Isabella Swan out of her narcissistic spiral ("I'm so gorgeous," "Why am I this stunning?").
"Forks High School? Are you serious? This isn't a joke?" She had to confirm with her mother.
Given that Isabella Swan was this beautiful, her mother couldn't have been ugly either. Renée Dwyer, still striking at nearly forty, had remarried a brawny, muscular man—a dynamic that spoke volumes.
Renée stroked Isabella's hair. "Sweetie, why the big reaction? Didn't you always want to live with your dad? Go, have fun. Washington's climate is pleasant, not like Arizona's heat."
The girl heard the subtext: Leave as soon as possible. Stay with your father as long as you can. We're having a great time here—don't worry about us.
The next day, her mother and stepfather left for a vacation.
Washington State had nothing to do with Washington, D.C.—they weren't even in the same direction. The state sat in the Pacific Northwest, bordered by the ocean and Canada.
Isabella Swan had to travel from Arizona (a southern state) to Washington (a northern one). Whether the journey would be difficult or dangerous didn't concern her mother.
"Bella's an adult now. She can handle a little thing like this. When I was her age, I was already doing XYZ..."
Bella wanted to scream: Lady, I've only been here for two days! What the hell do I know about Washington State?!
But complaining was pointless. The next morning, she dragged her suitcase out alone.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting golden streaks across the pavement. People rushed through the city, busy with their lives, while the girl walked toward the station, lost in thought.
She was saying goodbye to this place.
Phoenix, Arizona's capital, sounded poetic rising from ashes, soaring like a phoenix!
And in a way, it was fitting. The girl had died from overwork in her past life, only to wake up reborn.
At first, she'd felt lucky. Then she learned about Stark Industries and Oscorp—and realized just how unlucky she was.
And now, after receiving the transfer notice to Forks High School in Washington State?
Double the bad luck.
Was this a Marvel world fused with Twilight?
Figuring out the universe's secrets wasn't her job.
From what she remembered, Forks was a special place. Werewolves lurked north of town, vampires lived to the south, and occasional nomadic bloodsuckers passed through. "Dangerous" didn't even begin to cover it.
What could she do? She had no idea.
Drop out and start a business? She wasn't that smart—or rich. Her entire savings amounted to $1,000.
Her only option was to grit her teeth, move in with her father, finish high school, and then apply to a college far from the U.S.—the farther, the better.
"Isabella Swan? TWA wishes you a pleasant journey," the airport attendant said mechanically, checking her luggage.
After clearing security, her phone rang. She pulled out an old flip phone and answered.
"Hey, Mom."
"Hi, Bella! Sweetie, are you at the airport?"
With a mother like this, I must've used up all my luck just by transmigrating, Bella thought.
Did they have no bond? No, that wasn't true.
But was it a deep bond? Not really.
And now, with the transmigrator in control, their already shaky relationship had worsened.
Her mother was too busy with her new husband to care. Bella's cross-country trip? A quick phone call sufficed.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry—have fun."
Their exchange was textbook American: polite, distant, and empty.
She hung up and focused on the airport announcements, terrified of missing any updates.
Her predecessor had left her nothing but beauty. Her English skills were… unique. She had the vocabulary, but without real-life immersion, she had to mentally process every word before speaking or listening. Conversations with her mother were a nightmare—by the time she formulated a response, the topic had already moved on.
She had to listen carefully—or miss everything.
(End of Chapter)