She narrowed her eyes at the air.
'You little…'
[You're welcome.]
Erisia huffed, crossing one leg over the other as she glanced out the window. The streets were getting busier now—pedestrians moving in small clusters, traffic thickening at the intersections. The hum of the city was low and distant, like white noise.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the sleek business card the nurse had handed her. Dark gray, embossed with minimalist silver letters. A stylized emblem above the name—Argon Securities—gleamed faintly in the light. She turned it over in her fingers once, then unlocked her phone and tapped in the number.
The line clicked immediately.
No hold music. No delay. Just one ring, and then—
"Hello. Who is this and what do you want?"
The voice was unfamiliar. Male. Clipped. The kind of tone that suggested he had exactly thirty seconds of patience and a weapon probably within arm's reach.
Erisia blinked, straightening slightly. "Uh—hello. My name is Erisia Wrenford. The owner of this number gave me his card—well, no, he gave the hospital his card. Two nights ago, I fainted on the sidewalk and he kindly took me to the hospital. He admitted me, then left his card with the nurse. His name is Mr. Roy, right?" She inhaled quietly, smoothing her tone. "I just wanted to call and thank him. Could you please… if he's around… pass him the phone so I could thank him in person?"
There was a pause on the other end. Then:
"He's currently on duty," the man replied, voice still taut but marginally less frosty. "Hold on. I'll get him."
"Oh, okay. Thank you," she said, relaxing slightly. "I'll put it on hold then."
She lowered the phone into her lap and let out a breath. Her eyes flicked toward the card again. Argon Securities.
She wondered if she would ever be able to to ever meet Kealith Asheborne before he died now that she was in the story's world.
Somewhere far from her, in a quiet high-end hospital hallway, the man who had taken her call stepped briskly out of an elevator towards Roy who was standing outside Mr. Kaelith's room.
"Sir," he said, holding out the phone. "A call. She says her name is Erisia Wrenford."
Roy paused, his brows ticking up ever so slightly. That name—he has never heard of it. He reached out, then took the phone from the man's hand.
"This is Roy," he said into the receiver, voice low and steady. "…Miss Wrenford?"
"Hello, good afternoon. How are you doing?"
Roy narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?"
"No, not that much," she replied quickly, a little embarrassed. "But you did help me. Um… you can just call me Miss Erisia. I was the one who fainted on the sidewalk two nights ago, and you took me to the hospital. Remember? You left your card with the nurse? I got it from her after I was discharged just this afternoon, and I'm on my way home now. So I thought I'd call to thank you for helping me—because if not for you, I don't know what would've happened to me."
She exhaled softly. "So I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Roy. I really owe you one, and I'd like to repay you. In any way. I would really, really love to repay you."
On the other end, Roy's expression eased, the hard lines of his mouth softening just slightly.
"It's good to know you've been discharged," he said, voice warmer now, if still composed. "Also… there's no need for that, Ms. Erisia. Thanking me is enough."
"No, but—"
"It's alright," he cut in—not unkindly, just… final. "There's nothing you can do to thank me, so don't bother. But I do hope you take better care of yourself. If that's all, I'll be ending the call."
"Oh. Okay. Thank you!"
"You're welcome. Goodbye, Ms. Erisia."
Ding.
The call ended with a clean little chime, and Erisia sat there for a second, blinking at her screen.
She drew her lips into a straight line to stop herself from laughing out loud. It didn't help. A small huff escaped, almost fond.
"Well… that went perfectly bad," she muttered to herself.
Definitely not what she'd imagined. Not in the slightest. The kind man who scooped her up off the sidewalk? She'd expected… something less cold. Less dry. Less like a robot reading off a company script at gunpoint.
But then again, what was she expecting? A soft smile and "call me anytime"? Please. This was Roy. That Roy. The same Roy from the novel—the silent, sharp-eyed, loyalty-till-death Roy who handled most of Kaelith Asheborne's dirty work and made exactly zero apologies for it.
Honestly, there was no difference whatsoever.
She leaned back against the car seat, phone still loosely in hand. The cityscape drifted by her window in shades of afternoon gray and billboard color.
That left her with a very real question:
Would all of them be the same as their characters in the story?
Every single one of them?
She hoped not.
That'd be boring.
She wanted flaws where there weren't supposed to be flaws. Unexpected kindness from background assholes. Maybe even a redemption arc or two for characters the fandom never forgave. Something. Anything.
Still, there was one exception.
Scumbag Asher.
The walking red flag. The grade-A gaslighting bastard. Mr. Misunderstood Male Lead™ who made everyone scream at their screens and still somehow got a redemption plotline no one asked for.
Erisia's lips curled. She sincerely hoped he was exactly like his character. Because when they finally crossed paths, oh, she was going to have so much fun handing him his ass.
Chuckling under her breath, she tossed her phone back into her bag and slouched against the seat, her fingers tapping idly against her thigh.
"Ah… and I really wanted to meet Kaelith," she sighed dramatically. "But whatever."
The driver raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. She ignored it, reached for the carrier, and unzipped it partway again. Rein immediately poked her tiny head out, blinking up at Erisia with wide, trusting eyes.
"I swear you're going to ruin me," she whispered, reaching in to gently lift the kitten into her lap.
Rein let out a soft purr and curled into a warm ball against her stomach.
Erisia exhaled slowly, fingers trailing over the kitten's back. She leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"This is my first time having a cat," she murmured, "and I hope we'll be together for a long time, Rein."
The kitten purred louder, vibrating against her ribs like a living little engine of approval.
Erisia smiled and scratched under her chin. "And don't you worry, I won't let any crazy fucker hurt you. None of them will. And if they dare… I'll make them pay without even needing an excuse."
Rein yawned in agreement and tucked her face under Erisia's palm.
[Emotional affinity level between subject and pet increasing rapidly,] Echo noted.
[Would you like me to create a memory marker for this event?]
'What does that mean?'
[A memory marker: a timestamped mental bookmark that you can recall with full emotional context. Can be used as fuel for emotional resilience, memory replays, or focused recall training later.]
'…You mean like a "save point" in case I need a reminder not to burn the whole house down?'
[More or less.]
'Fine. Do it.'
She leaned back in the seat, stroking Rein's side as the car continued toward Wrenford Mansion—toward wealth, dysfunction, and a family more toxic than poison ivy in July.
But this time, she wasn't going back alone.
She had Rein.
And a system that, while mildly annoying, was at least on her side.
***
Once she arrived at the Wrenford Mansion, the air shifted.
Everyone had seen the viral post. Everyone.
Well—except for Leander, of course. He was probably the only one still clueless.
Inside, they were waiting for her in the living room, seething.
Mrs. Wrenford was the first to explode. The second Erisia stepped through the front door, the woman stood, her face contorted with rage.
"You disgraceful girl! You dare come back here after all the shit you've pulled?!"
She marched forward, hand raised to strike—but Erisia grabbed her wrist mid-air.
Her grip was strong. Calm.
"I told you," Erisia said evenly, "this is the fucking last time you will ever hit me in your fucking life."
She turned her head slightly, eyes scanning past Mrs. Wrenford to where Sierra and Leander stood behind her.
"No one in this house—not even your precious husband—is allowed to lay a damn finger on me ever again."
Mrs. Wrenford yanked her arm back. "Fine. Then get your things and get the hell out of my house!"
To her left, stacked neatly by the doorway, were her suitcases. The maids had already packed her belongings.
Erisia stared at them, then back at the family, laughing softly.
"Wow. You all are really trying to send me out, huh? Tell me—are you seriously trying to kick out the biological daughter of the Wrenford family?"
Her tone dropped.
"Alright. No problem. I guess I can just leave… and tell everyone who the real daughter is—and who the fake one is."
Mrs. Wrenford let out a brittle laugh. "You think anyone would believe you?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Erisia tilted her head. "I've got the evidence."
The laughter died instantly.
Mrs. Wrenford narrowed her eyes. "What evidence?"
Erisia touched her chest. "Me. My blood. All I need is one DNA test, a photo of the results, and a long monologue detailing my life story. Once I post that, millions of people will tear y'all to shreds in the comments. I won't even need to live in this house anymore."
She smiled sweetly. "So, Mrs. Wrenford, do you want that?"
Behind the woman, Sierra's face had gone ashen. Leander looked like he was one insult away from combusting.
"You're finally showing your true colors, huh?" he sneered. "What you really are. Nothing but a jealous—"
Erisia waved him off with one hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't give a fuck what you think about me, dude. So keep quiet."
She turned her gaze back to Mrs. Wrenford, cradling the kitten in her arms and petting it gently.
"What do you think?"
When the woman said nothing, her mouth twitching but no words coming out, Erisia snorted.
"I thought so."
She turned toward the stairs and addressed the maids lingering nearby.
"One of you should take those back to my room. Thanks."
As she passed Sierra, she paused—then stepped back and leaned in close, her voice a whisper meant only for her.
"Did you see everything that happened, dear Sierra? I'm sure you must be so green with anger right now. You probably want to strangle me."
She leaned in closer and chuckled ingratingly.
"Well, too bad. You won't get the chance. And I'm warning you—whatever sinister plans you have or plan to make, whatever happens to me… you'll be shocked when it bounces right back to you."
She didn't wait for a reply.
With the kitten purring in her arms, Erisia turned and walked away—up the stairs.
~•~•~
{Author's Note – Let's Clear Things Up!
Hey readers!
So I realized something recently—and honestly, some of you might've picked up on it too—that could be confusing if I don't explain it properly. This is especially for those of you who might have questions about the overall plot and how everything ties together.
Let's talk about the transmigration aspect of the story.
You know how, in some transmigration stories, the main character enters a novel they've read, becomes a cannon fodder, and then ends up fighting against fate or even saving the world? Well, this story is very, very different.
Here's how it works in my world:
Veyra transmigrates into a completed serialized novel. Not an ongoing one. It's already been written, published, and finished. And yes, she's read it before.
She ends up in the body of Erisia, a character who died by hitting her head in a pool. That's when Veyra's soul enters her body.
Now, here's the twist: the system tells her that her mission is to rewrite the narrative. But this doesn't mean she's literally writing a new version of the book. No, she's not putting pen to paper. She's rewriting Erisia's life—changing the course of her fate, her destiny, her role in the story world.
Think of it like this: the novel has ended, but now the world inside the novel has come alive, as if it's gained its own consciousness. From the moment Veyra enters, it's no longer a "story"—it's a real, living world where events play out in real-time. That's why it may feel like reality now, because it is—within the logic of the transmigration.
Some readers might notice things that feel like contradictions (especially if you're comparing it to typical transmigration tropes), so I wanted to explain this clearly:
Veyra is not writing a new novel. She's changing the fate of someone who was already written out. That's what the system meant.
The deeper mysteries—like how the system works, or why the world gained consciousness—will be explored later in the story. So don't worry! Answers are coming.
I just wanted to make sure this part was clear before people start getting confused or frustrated about things "not adding up." It does add up—it's just a different kind of transmigration story, with its own rules.
Thanks for sticking with me and trusting the process!
You're in for a wild ride. 💫
—Ella❣️}