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"Oh for freak's sake—those two bastards!!! Ugh... back again? What kind of rotten karma is this?! Other people get isekai'd into some pampered noble lady, a filthy rich heiress, or—at the very least—the female lead of some grand romance.
But me? Me?! Why the hell do I have to wake up in this mess?! What—did the heavens think I was having too much fun in my last life and decide to throw me in here just to watch me suffer?!"
The silent scream echoed through a room gaudy with faded ornaments. Its cheap luxury only made her crude outburst sharper.
Luckily, none of the servants could hear her.
If they did, she'd be branded insane—and punished on the spot.
To them, an illegitimate child with no favor from the household ranked even lower than a servant.
Someone like her was nothing more than a convenient outlet for their spite.
The tiniest mistake was all the excuse they needed to hurt her.
"Sure, I liked this character when I skimmed a random novel summary, but that doesn't mean I signed up to be her!!!"
Around her, damp walls pressed close, the door bolted tight.
Absolute stillness.
No prying eyes, no mocking laughter, no cold indifference—only her, trapped in a frail body and an oppressive silence.
Who would believe this cell belonged to a so-called "young lady"?
No—more like a bastard child, the result of a drugged tryst between a courtesan and a father who never meant for her to be born, forced into existence as nothing more than a pawn for the family.
After venting into the void, Đinh Hồng Mai—now inside Đinh Ánh Tuyết's body—slumped onto the rotting bedframe.
Honestly, after two miserable lifetimes in a row, even the most optimistic soul would be on the verge of madness.
Even the rats in this room bullied her, shredding her pillows to bits.
Yet... something felt different this time.
The slow burn of rage inside her cooled, leaving behind a strange, almost soothing calm.
Her eyes drifted to her hand, where silver threads seemed to thicken in the dim light.
She wrestled with the thought for a moment, then exhaled in resignation.
Fine. Whatever.
Grabbing the candle from the desk, she headed for the door.
Two lifetimes in darkness had sharpened her senses—she could move without light if she wanted—but she'd rather not step on the corpse of some animal the malicious servants might've tossed in while she slept.
Đinh Hồng Mai raised the candle.
And there—looming inches from her face—was a deathly pale visage.
A face identical to her own.
Frozen. Motionless.
"!!!!!!!!!!"
Ah. Wondering why everything suddenly went dead silent?
Well, our protagonist's brain just blue-screened.
She stood there stiff as a board—like someone had super-glued her to the spot.