The nurse's voice cracked in panic.
"IVY! IVY!!"
The world tilted.
Strong arms tightened around her limp body, stopping her from hitting the floor. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air as voices rose all at once. Footsteps rushed closer. Someone cursed under their breath. Someone else shouted for a bed.
"She's out cold!"
"Get a stretcher, now!"
Ashton held her only long enough for the nurses to take over. The moment they lifted Ivy from his arms and laid her onto the rolling bed, he stepped back like he had touched something dirty.
"Move," he said flatly. "You're blocking the hallway."
The nurses rushed Ivy down the corridor. Her body bounced slightly with every hurried push. Her head lolled to the side, lashes resting against colorless cheeks.
Ashton followed for only a few steps.
"Where are you taking her?" a nurse asked without slowing down.
"To her ward," another answered. "She lost too much blood."
Ashton nodded once. That was all.
The moment they reached Ivy's room and transferred her onto the bed, he stopped at the doorway. He didn't step inside.
"Call me if she wakes up," he said, already turning away. "I'm going to Aria."
And then he was gone.
The door closed softly behind him.
The room fell quiet except for the steady beeping of machines.
Darkness closed in around her again, thick and merciless, pressing against her senses with unbearable weight. It was not the darkness of rest, nor the darkness of sleep. It was the darkness of death returning to claim what it had not finished taking.
Pain tore through her skull like a blade being forced between her bones. It was sharp, sudden, and violent, as if something was being ripped open from the inside. Her chest convulsed as air refused to enter her lungs properly.
"No—"
The thought barely formed before the darkness split apart.
She was no longer in a hospital.
She stood on scorched earth beneath a blood-red sky. Flames climbed the remains of fallen banners, and smoke filled the air so thick it burned her lungs with every breath. The ground beneath her boots was soaked with blood that was not entirely her own.
She wore armor, heavy and cracked, soaked through with dark, drying blood. An arrow was embedded deep in her side, every movement sending white-hot pain through her body. Another had pierced her shoulder, pinning muscle to bone. Her grip on her sword trembled, but she did not let it fall.
Her long hair clung to her face, tangled with sweat, dirt, and blood. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to stand upright.
Soldiers surrounded her.
They wore familiar armor.
Her army.
Her people.
Their faces were cold.
Their eyes avoided hers.
Someone stepped forward.
"Kill her."
The command fell without hesitation.
A sword flashed in the firelight.
She barely had time to lift her head before agony exploded in her chest. Steel pierced straight through her heart, precise and merciless. Her body jerked violently as blood filled her mouth.
Her strength vanished in an instant.
Her sword slipped from her fingers.
She fell forward, knees striking the ground, armor clanging loudly against stone. The flames behind her roared higher, devouring the last symbol of her kingdom.
As her body collapsed, a scream tore from her throat, raw and broken, filled with rage, betrayal, and disbelief.
Then everything shattered.
Ivy's eyes flew open.
Her body jerked sharply, chest rising violently as she dragged in a desperate breath, as if she had been drowning for hours. Pain exploded through her veins, and her head throbbed so fiercely that tears immediately filled her eyes.
"IVY! IVY!!"
The nurse's voice cracked in panic as she rushed forward, hands gripping Ivy's shoulders to steady her. "Please stay still. You fainted. Do not move."
Ivy gasped again, her heartbeat pounding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out everything else.
The ceiling above her was blindingly white.
Too clean.
Too smooth.
Lights hummed softly overhead, steady and artificial. The air smelled sharp and sterile, nothing like smoke, blood, or fire.
This was not the battlefield.
Her fingers twitched weakly against the bed sheets beneath her palms. The fabric felt thin and unfamiliar. It was not armor. It was not silk. It was something fragile, something meant for bodies that had never known war.
Her head throbbed again, harder this time, and she lifted a trembling hand to her temple, sucking in a breath as pain surged through her skull.
"Please lie back," the nurse said, her voice strained but gentle. "You lost consciousness during blood withdrawal. You are extremely weak."
Blood withdrawal.
The words sounded foreign.
Meaningless.
She turned her head slowly, eyes scanning the room with instinctive caution, the way a warrior would wake in enemy territory. Machines blinked softly beside her bed. Metal stands held hanging bags of clear liquid. Tubes were attached to her arm. Curtains fluttered slightly beside a tall window.
There were no guards.
No banners.
No weapons.
Her heart began to race.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Then the memories came crashing down without mercy.
A palace engulfed in flames.
A woman kneeling behind her, tears streaking her face as she begged.
"Your Highness, please run."
The sound of steel cutting through air.
The cold certainty of betrayal.
Her death.
Before she could recover, another wave struck even harder.
A small apartment filled with silence.
A college campus buzzing with laughter that never belonged to her.
A woman kneeling on a cold floor, clutching her stomach as blood pooled beneath her.
A slap that sent her crashing to the ground.
Laughter filled with cruelty.
A man's eyes, cold and indifferent.
A baby that never had a chance to cry.
Grief so deep it crushed her chest and stole the air from her lungs.
Two lives collided violently inside her mind.
Two deaths.
Her head felt as though it were splitting apart.
She let out a low groan, fingers digging into the sheets as the pain intensified, her body trembling under the weight of memories that did not belong to one soul alone.
"Easy," the nurse said urgently, adjusting the drip and watching her closely. "Please calm down. You are safe now."
Safe.
The word felt hollow.
She slowly turned her gaze toward the nurse.
The woman was middle-aged, with tired eyes and hands worn from years of work. Her expression held concern, but also fear.
Because the eyes staring back at her were not the same eyes that had closed earlier.
They were colder.
Sharper.
They carried the weight of countless battlefields and silent executions.
Eyes that had watched kingdoms burn.
The nurse froze.
"Where am I?" Ivy asked, her voice hoarse, low, unfamiliar even to herself.
"You are in the hospital," the nurse replied cautiously.
Hospital.
The word echoed strangely.
She swallowed hard.
"And my name?" she asked.
The nurse relaxed slightly, assuming confusion from shock. "Your name is Ivy."
The name felt wrong the moment it reached her ears.
It did not belong to her.
Her true name surfaced from deep within her soul, clear and undeniable.
Lin Yue.
Princess of the Eastern Frontier.
Commander of the Black Wolf Army.
She had died betrayed by those she trusted most.
Her fingers trembled as realization settled fully into place.
She remembered everything now.
Her execution.
And Ivy's destruction.
This body had been dying.
Not just physically, but emotionally.
It had endured humiliation, cruelty, and despair until its owner had finally let go.
That was why her soul had entered it.
Because Ivy had already died.
Lin Yue closed her eyes briefly and inhaled slowly, forcing the chaos inside her to settle. She had survived poison, torture, and war. This pain was not enough to break her.
This body was weak.
But it was alive.
Barely.
The nurse adjusted the IV again. "Do you feel pain? Dizziness?"
Lin Yue opened her eyes and looked down at her hands.
They were slender.
Soft.
Unscarred.
They were not the hands of a warrior who had held a sword since childhood.
Something cold and steady stirred deep in her chest.
The memories of Ivy's suffering replayed clearly now. The marriage built on lies. The humiliation masked as discipline. The cruelty disguised as justice.
A man named Ashton.
A woman named Aria.
A child lost before it could breathe.
Lin Yue's lips pressed together tightly.
In her world, such crimes demanded blood.
The nurse hesitated before asking, "Do you remember what happened?"
"Yes," Lin Yue replied calmly.
Her tone was steady.
Too steady.
The nurse exhaled in relief. "That is good. Your husband brought you in earlier."
Husband.
The word tasted bitter.
Lin Yue said nothing.
She leaned her head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as the final truth settled into her bones.
Ashton had held her earlier only because letting her fall would have caused trouble.
Not because he cared.
Not because he loved her.
This world was unfamiliar.
This body was fragile.
But her soul was not.
Her fingers curled slowly against the sheets.
Her lips parted, and her voice emerged quiet, steady, and dangerous.
"So I transmigrated into a dead body."
Then she passed out.