CHAPTER ONE — THE WRONG FACE
The first thing she noticed was the smell.
Not the faint scent of roses from her silk bedsheets, nor the citrus perfume her maid sprayed every morning.
This was… damp. Stale. The air clung to her lungs like wet cloth.
Her eyes flew open.
The ceiling above her was cracked and water-stained. The chandelier? Nonexistent. Instead, a rusty ceiling fan wobbled dangerously with each turn.
"What the hell…?" she muttered, pushing herself up only to freeze.
Her hands weren't hers.
They were larger, darker, with veins running across the back and calluses on the fingertips.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She scrambled off the thin mattress and stumbled toward a cracked mirror leaning against the wall.
The face staring back wasn't hers.
It was male. Sharp jaw, messy hair, dark eyes that weren't the warm hazel she knew but a piercing black. A faint scar cut through one eyebrow.
"No. No, no, no!" Her voice was deeper—male.
Before she could process more, a loud knock rattled the thin door.
"Brother! Wake up! He's here again!" a female voice hissed from outside.
"Who—?"
The door burst open. A girl of about fifteen rushed in, her clothes patched in several places, her hair tied in a messy bun.
"You're still standing there? The landlord's downstairs—he says if we don't pay this month's rent, we're out!"
Her words tumbled over each other, panic in her eyes.
The heiress, no, whoever she was, now opened her mouth, but no answer came.
The girl grabbed her wrist and tugged. "Hurry!"
Down a narrow staircase, into a cramped front room where a man with a thick beard and too-tight shirt loomed.
"Where's my money, boy?" His tone was pure threat.
"I—"
"Don't 'I' me!" He stepped closer, towering over her. "I gave you last month's grace period. You think I run this place for free?"
Her pulse pounded. In her world, no one had ever spoken to her like this. Her father's name alone could silence a room. But here? She had nothing.
"I'll get it," she heard herself say, foreign words on her tongue.
The man snorted. "Better be quick. One more week, or you and your sisters are on the street."
When he left, the younger girl let out a shaky breath. "Brother, please don't get into trouble at work again. We can't afford it."
"Work?" she repeated, dazed.
"Yes, your office job don't tell me you forgot already."
Office job? She'd never worked a day in her life.
But as the girl hurried back upstairs to change into a threadbare suit, a strange flicker of memory danced at the edge of her mind—faces she didn't know, words she didn't speak, but somehow understood.
She was in someone else's life. Someone else's body.
And, if what this girl said was true, in less than an hour, she was going to meet a "boss" who thought she was a man.
Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror messy tie, ill-fitting jacket, unfamiliar eyes.
She took a deep breath.
Whoever this man was, she'd have to become him.
A loud honk echoed outside. A rusty car idled in the street.
"Brother, hurry! Mr. Li is already waiting to take you to the company!"
The last thing she saw in the mirror was her own terrified expression on a stranger's face.