In a damp, frigid room, a body was chained. The young woman sat rigid on a rusted metal chair, her hands bound tightly behind her back with heavy iron cuffs that bit into her skin. Her neck bore faint slash marks,traces of a struggle she never truly fought. The air reeked of rust and wet earth, as if the room itself rejected life.
Slow footsteps approached. The click of high heels echoed on the cracked concrete floor, each step a pulse of dread. From the shadows, a woman emerged. A sleek black dress hugged her form, her hair tied in a flawless bun, her face devoid of emotion, like a porcelain mask.
A thin, chilling smile curled her lips, a smile as sharp as a freshly honed blade.
"You filthy wretch! You stole everything! You destroyed it all!" she screamed, her voice shaking the room, raw with burning rage.
"…Enough. Your existence is a burden…" Her tone shifted, calm as a serpent's whisper. It dropped lower, almost a lullaby. "So… sleep. Join your family, if you love them so much."
A deafening shot rang out.
Bang.
The young woman slumped, blood seeping from her chest, her eyes frozen in regret.
Silence. Cool.
The faint scent of balsam from an automatic diffuser filled the air. A massive glass window stood slightly ajar, letting the forest's morning breeze and pale sunlight slip inside, illuminating specks of dust. The hum of the AC chilled the room, a stark contrast to the fresh air outside.
Someone opened her eyes.
A sleek white ceiling with hidden LED lights greeted her gaze. A steel bookshelf, a desk with a laptop and printer, and an idle smart speaker stood in the corner, a modern, luxurious interior tucked within this isolated forest mansion, far from the city's chaos.
She looked down at her hands. Smooth, youthful, the hands of a 27-year-old. Not the wrinkled, frail hands of the old woman she once was in her past life.
'So… I'm alive again,' she thought, her inner voice laced with bitterness. 'From a broken old body to this young one. A curse or a blessing, I don't care who gave me this second chance.'
Her mind flashed back. The gunshot. The cold smile. The chains. That voice: "Your existence is a burden… sleep."
'I won't stay silent,' she thought, her tone sharp as a blade. 'It's time for revenge… against that wretched woman.'
Her hands clenched the linen blanket, nails digging into the fabric. 'I'll never forget her face. Her hand raising the gun. Every detail is burned into my eyes.'
She swore silently. 'My vengeance won't die. I, Vanessa Locany, have awakened from my long sleep.'
Footsteps echoed beyond the automatic sliding door. A hushed murmur followed, too loud to be a whisper.
"Hey, you think they've done it yet?"
"Who? Vanessa and Raven?"
"Duh! You think I meant old Doni, the driver?"
Vanessa opened her eyes, one brow raised in disdain. 'The world wakes me to hear this?' she thought, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm.
"God, Rani… if they've slept together, Vanessa might already be pregnant again~"
"Shut it, Ran!"
Vanessa rose, smoothing her robe, and strode to the door. She opened it manually, rejecting the automated ease. The two maids outside froze, their faces paling as if caught stealing.
Vanessa's gaze was ice-cold. Then she smiled, a smile colder than the room's AC.
"Since when is my bedroom life your morning gossip?" she asked, her voice soft but sharp enough to cut.
Rani swallowed hard. "W-We were just…"
Vanessa leaned against the doorframe. "Want details? Positions, bed creaks, duration, or our breaths? I can make a full slideshow."
"N-No need! I didn't even pass biology!" Rani stammered, waving her hands frantically.
"Smart," Vanessa said, nodding. "Now, one of you fetch a knife. Sharp as your gossip. Don't bring a dull one, or I'll sharpen it… my way."
The maids fled, their steps frantic like startled mice.
Vanessa closed the door, her smile vanishing. She gazed at the green forest beyond the window, mist cloaking the trees. 'The world turned back time for me,' she thought. 'This time, I'll dance on its stage. With blood and vengeance.'
"Better shower first," she muttered.
Warm water enveloped her skin, steam filling the black-tiled bathroom. Vanessa leaned back in the marble bathtub, the faint scent of lavender soap calming her nerves. But her mind churned. Redemption. Revenge. And Raven.
'In my last life, I was an old, mad woman who used Roni, my son, as a pawn,' she thought, her inner voice breaking. 'And Raven… my husband I discarded. Her chest tightened, regret's sharp sting piercing like a hidden dagger. 'I never understood him. If only our marriage wasn't forced…'
A memory flickered, Raven's quiet eyes watching her, a fleeting warmth she'd ignored, his touch that once sparked something she buried deep. Her old, brittle body, shattered by betrayal, ended by a bullet. Now, at 27, she was alive again, beside the man she once dismissed.
'What's my first move?' she thought. Her fingers clenched, water rippling. 'These rats in my house… they need to be dealt with.'
Her eyes hardened. 'I'll summon Elara later,' she thought. 'For news of the outside world.'
She rose, water dripping from her pale skin. In the mirror, her reflection was striking, beautiful, young, but haunted by unseen scars. She donned a black bathrobe, brushing her hair with cold precision.
As she stepped out, the house fell silent, sensing her intent. But behind the quiet, danger lurked. Eighteen maids,smiling, bowing,hid dark secrets.
Vanessa was ready to unravel them. First, she'd test their nerve.
"My head aches… bring me orange juice," she said, her voice soft but commanding.
"Yes, Madam," three maids replied in unison, their smiles forced.
Ten minutes later, Vanessa wore a sleek gray dress, her gaze sharp as a blade. No longer the frail old woman, she was reborn, resolute.
The maids arrived, nearly dropping the tray, shocked by Vanessa's calm elegance. They handed her the juice, then retreated, whispering taunts.
Vanessa showed no emotion. Her eyes locked on the orange liquid. "What poison did they slip in?" she murmured, swirling the glass.
She sipped a drop. Minutes later, dizziness and nausea hit, her chest burning. "Aconitine, huh? Deadly," she muttered, spitting it out. 'Good thing I barely swallowed,' she thought.
'Rani and her sister were the only ones loyal in my last life,' she thought. 'But… where did they get aconitine? I need to find the mastermind.'
The next day, Vanessa descended to the first floor. Maids greeted her with polite smiles, but each felt like a hidden blade. Every courteous word dripped with honeyed poison.
"Tea, Madam?" asked a middle-aged maid, her voice soft but her eyes uneasy.
Vanessa nodded, sitting on a sleek chair by the window, gazing at the misty forest. 'Eighteen maids. Their smiles watched me die,' she thought.
Steam rose from the tea. 'My strategy is simple,' she thought. 'I'll make them play my game.'
Day one, she reshuffled kitchen duties: who cooked, cleaned, or tended Roni's room. All obeyed, but she noted who fidgeted, who lingered too long in the kitchen.
Day two, she feigned early sleep. At midnight, she slipped to the basement, her steps silent. There, she found gunpowder in a steel crate, enough to torch a room. She pocketed the key, hidden in her robe.
Day three, she let a maid bring Roni's lunch. She snuck to the kitchen, inspecting the soup. Too sweet. She tasted a drop, then spat it out. 'Arsenic,' she thought. She replaced it with her own in fifteen minutes.
Slow. Methodical. She listed names: four kitchen maids, two from Roni's room, one from laundry, one from the garden. Not servants, assassins.
They didn't know Vanessa was sane, no longer the mad old woman. The 27-year-old walking among them was colder than death.
But one night, a maid slipped into her room. Vanessa, brushing her hair before the mirror, stared at her reflection, unflinching. The maid's hands trembled, clutching something behind her skirt, glinting faintly under the LED lights.
"Madam, I need to talk… and ask for help," she said, her voice cold but quivering with fear.