"Oh my freaking god—what cursed dimension is this?!"
Đinh Ánh Tuyết wanted to scream, but all she managed was a strangled choke. Her modesty? Her noble upbringing? Gone. Erased.Before her: a line of men in half-buttoned shirts, abs gleaming, hips moving far too enthusiastically.
Her father had drilled etiquette into her bones since childhood. Yet no manual of noble conduct had ever prepared her for… this.
"Don't look, don't look…" she whispered, eyes wide, drool betraying her.
From beside her came a suppressed giggle. Đinh Hồng Mai—the woman occupying her body—watched gleefully, eyes sparkling. Unable to resist, she stretched out a finger and poked Tuyết's cheek. Soft. Springy. Addictive. Poke. Poke. Poke.
The wandering hand was caught. Mai panicked, snapped her fingers, and conjured a tissue. She shoved it into Tuyết's hands.
"What… for?" Tuyết blinked.Then realization struck—the drool, the open mouth, the shame. Her entire face ignited scarlet. She spun away, wiping furiously.
"Th-thanks…" The words came out like a mosquito's hum.
And that was how the illegitimate daughter and the regressor first met—inside a trauma-born sanctuary of the mind, surrounded by hunks.
Neither knew yet: this ridiculous, humiliating meeting would be the start of their shared fate.
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"Oh my freaking god… what kind of cursed place is this?! My modest upbringing—gone! Those… those abs… wait, is that an actual dance? Ugh, they're way too close… pull your shirt down, sir! AHHHH, my morals are evaporating!!!"
Đinh Ánh Tuyết—the original owner of the body—could only gape. She had no idea how she got here. One blink after regaining awareness, and she was surrounded by men in half-open shirts, flexing and dancing far too provocatively right in front of her.
Caught between shame and reluctant fascination, she struggled. Meanwhile, the one responsible—Đinh Hồng Mai—sat comfortably at her side, eyes sparkling with amusement. She looked utterly entertained by the sight of the original owner in a daze, mouth half-open, drool nearly escaping.
Unable to resist, Mai reached out and poked Tuyết's cheek. Soft. Springy. Addictive. She poked again. And again. Until the wandering hand was suddenly caught. Flustered, Mai snatched her hand back and, in a panic, "imagined" a tissue into existence and handed it over.
Tuyết stared, bewildered. "What… for?"Then realization hit—the drool, the open mouth, the disgrace. She blushed crimson, spun away, and wiped furiously.
"Th-thanks…" The words came out like a mosquito's hum, her ears burning. So much for noble dignity. Even if she was eighteen in years—or fifty-four if she counted her past lives—she was still a maiden who had never been subjected to this madness.
Illegitimate though she was, Ánh Tuyết had been raised with strict noble etiquette. Her father loathed her existence, but his pride demanded that no daughter of his name should behave uncultured before society. She had been polished for display, not for care.
"Hmph!" She cleared her throat, trying to mask her humiliation. Her gaze shifted to the woman beside her. In this realm of consciousness, souls revealed their true essence. Mai had chosen the form of her thirty-year-old self: mature, graceful, breathtaking—a version Tuyết could never embody. False shell or not, the soul beneath could not lie.
An older woman, yet so shameless? And earlier Tuyết had called her a brat? Buddha forgive me…
Mai, oblivious to Tuyết's inner repentance, studied her in silence. Finally, both spoke at once:
"You're Đinh Ánh Tuyết, the original owner, right?""And you are…?"
They blinked, then again in unison:
"My name is Đinh Hồng Mai.""Yes, I am Đinh Ánh Tuyết."
The coincidence of sharing a surname hung in the air.
"Đinh Hồng Mai… Such a youthful name. Who would think it belonged to someone… seasoned?" Tuyết muttered, uncertain how to address her.
The moment her name was spoken aloud in that warm, steady voice—so unlike the youthful body's timbre—Tuyết froze. For the first time, she heard the soul inhabiting her vessel, and the strangeness was undeniable. Her father may have despised her, but at least he had given her a beautiful name. Small mercy indeed.
"That ghost earlier—was that you? Why linger here?" Mai asked. She had never once seen Tuyết appear in her previous two regressions. Why now? Just recalling the scare sent shivers down her spine. Thank heavens for this room, and the half-naked men to vent stress. Still… what was this place?
Sensing her confusion, Tuyết gestured around. Her eyes brushed over the dancers—gulp—and then Mai's daring attire. Squeezing her eyes shut, she explained:
"This is the Consciousness Room. When trauma strikes too hard, it opens as a refuge. Everything inside obeys your will. That's why… they exist. Some souls choose never to leave, staying here forever."
Mai's eyes gleamed. Stroking the cheek of one nearby hunk, she smirked. "So I can do whatever I imagine here? Perfect. Then I'll never have to crawl back to that wretched world, or face another tragedy. Tell me, Tuyết—can you conjure things too?"
Tuyết shook her head. "This is your domain. Only you can alter it. I'm just a guest. But if you linger, the body outside will become a husk. And your servants are already on their way. You cannot hide forever."
Indeed, when Mai had regressed for the third time, Tuyết had been dragged along. Unlike before, this time servants approached—an anomaly. It was why Tuyết had manifested here. She hadn't expected Mai to perceive her… and promptly faint.
"Huh?" Mai frowned. "How do you know all this? If you've returned, shouldn't you reclaim your body?"
Tuyết pointed to Mai's hand—the one still caressing her imagined companion. Countless fine silver threads shimmered around her fingers, tightly woven. Then Tuyết raised her own hand.
Only a single fragile thread remained, trembling like a spider's silk about to snap. One careless touch, and it would vanish.
"That is synchronization with the body. After two lifetimes, your soul has bonded too tightly with this vessel. As for me… my claim is gone."
"You—" Mai began, but her words dissolved.
An unseen force swirled, dragging her consciousness away. She was hurled out of the luxurious illusion, back into her battered body on a tattered bed—
And awoke.