Two days after being discharged from the hospital, Elina returned home.
Within those two days, she had completely sorted through and understood all the memories of the original owner of this body. Coincidentally, the owner's name was the same as hers—Elina Carter.
Elina Carter was a low-level actress in the entertainment industry, someone who existed at the very bottom, easily ignored and easily replaced.
The girl connected to the girls's voice she had heard that day was Selina Joseph.
Selina never missed a chance to look down on Elina.
She mocked her, suppressed her, and deliberately made things difficult for her at every turn.
Elina was afraid of her.
The original Elina had a timid nature and rarely spoke.
Even when she was wronged, she chose silence over resistance.
Before the accident, Selina and Elina were filming a scene together.
A large mirror stood nearby, surrounded by decorative flowers.
Selina's eyes repeatedly flicked toward it.
Her intention was clear.
She wanted to ruin Elina's face.
In the middle of the shoot, when no one was paying close attention, Selina deliberately shoved Elina toward the mirror.
But fate had other plans.
Elina's face never hit the mirror.
Instead, her head struck a hard edge with a dull, sickening sound.
Pain exploded—
then darkness followed.
Because of that injury, the original owner of this body lost her life.
Yet to everyone else, it was nothing more than an accident.
Thinking about everything made her furious.
She clenched her fists and spoke softly, her voice filled with determination.
"Don't worry," she said.
"Now that I've accepted your body, I won't let this go."
Her eyes hardened.
"I will take your revenge.
Not just once—
I'll return it a hundred times over."
Saying this, Elina picked up her phone.Elina picked up her phone and dialed her agent's number.
The call was answered almost instantly.
"What the hell is this?" a sharp, irritated voice snapped from the other end.
It was Martha Reed, Elina's agent.
"How many days has it been already? Your injury still isn't healed?" Martha continued coldly.
"Do you have any idea how much loss you're causing? You barely get any scenes anyway, and now you're wasting time lying around in hospitals."
Elina frowned but said nothing.
"Come back," Martha ordered.
"From tomorrow, you're back on set. I don't want excuses."
Before Elina could say a word—
The call was cut.
Elina stared at the screen, her expression darkening.
Martha Reed was exactly this kind of person.
Greedy.
Selfish.
Cruel.
Every shoot Elina got—Martha would secretly give it to someone else for money.
On Elina's behalf, she would reject offers without even informing her, telling others that Elina wasn't interested.
Because of that, the original Elina had been stuck at the very bottom of the entertainment industry—
a nameless, low-level actress with no real opportunities.
After the call ended, Elina lay back down on the bed and let out a low, sarcastic laugh.
"So that's how it is," she muttered.
"Okay… you got it."
Shaking her head slightly, she closed her eyes.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to rest—
and drifted into a light sleep.
After some time, Elina was gently woken by her mother.
"Elina," her mother said softly, touching her shoulder.
"Wake up. Eat a little."
Elina slowly opened her eyes.
Her mother was standing beside the bed, holding a dinner tray. The worry on her face was impossible to miss. She gently brushed her hand over Elina's hair.
"You lost so much blood," she murmured.
"You need to eat. You'll feel better."
This time, Elina sat up.
She ate quietly, not much, but enough.
As she did, she felt it—
the care, the warmth, the concern that the original Elina had rarely noticed before.
It felt… good.
Strange, but comforting.
After finishing, she looked up.
"I'm okay now, Mom."
Her mother nodded with relief, picked up the tray, and left the room.
Once she was alone, Elina went to the bathroom.
She took a long shower, letting the warm water wash over her body.
The weakness slowly faded, and her mind became clearer.
Afterward, she returned to her room and lay down again.
Later, when the house had completely fallen silent and midnight had passed, Elina opened her eyes.
She quietly got out of bed and turned on the dim light.
From the corner of the room, she took out a black coat—one that covered her face completely.
Careful not to make any sound, she stepped out of her room.
Slowly, silently, she walked toward the front door.
Her hand turned the handle.
The door opened just enough for her to slip through.
And Elina disappeared into the night.After stepping outside, Elina hailed a taxi.
She gave the address quietly.
The city lights passed by in silence until the car finally stopped in front of a well-lit apartment building.
Her agent's place.
Elina paid the fare and got out.
Keeping to the shadows, she moved carefully.
Avoiding the cameras and security, she slipped inside the building without alerting anyone.
Step by step, she reached the door.
With practiced ease, she unlocked it and entered.
The house was quiet.
Elina stepped toward Martha Reed's bedroom.
The door was slightly open.
Inside, two figures were tangled together on the bed, moving carelessly, unaware of the outside world.
Elina's expression didn't change.
Silently, she took out her phone and recorded everything—
every movement, every face, every second.
Then—
She pushed the door open hard.
The sudden noise froze them.
The man and Martha separated in shock, scrambling to cover themselves.
"What the hell—?!" Martha shouted, staring at the figure standing there.
When she recognized her—
"Elina?!" Her face went pale.
The man beside her finally looked up.
The moment his eyes landed on Elina, greed flashed through them.
"What's this?" he scoffed.
"Just a low-level actress. Nothing more."
Martha said.
The Martha hurriedly adjusted her clothes and stepped forward, walking toward Elina as if the man didn't even exist.
That was when—
Slap.
The sound echoed through the room.
Elina struck her hard across the face.
She stumbled back, hitting the floor in shock.
Before anyone could react, Elina moved.
Fast.
Precise.
She struck without hesitation—controlled, ruthless, efficient.
When the man tried to intervene, she turned on him as well.
Within moments, both of them were helpless.
Breathing hard.
Stunned.
Silent.
Elina tore the bedsheet apart and bound them together, securing them tightly before shoving them back onto the bed.
She stood there for a moment, phone still in her hand.
Recording.
Her voice was calm.
"Now," she said softly,
"let's talk." Elina pulled a chair closer and sat down calmly.
Her posture was relaxed.
Her voice was steady.
"By tomorrow," she said casually,
"I want all my money back. Every single penny."
Martha stiffened. "I want my own money," Elina said coldly.
"One million. In my account."
She looked straight at Martha.
"All the money I've earned until now.
Every payment.
Every deal you pocketed."
Her voice didn't rise, but the pressure was unmistakable.
"One million," she repeated.
"I'll be waiting." "One million?" Martha scoffed harshly.
"Have you even done work worth that much? What do you expect—should I rob a bank for you if you want one million?"
Elina didn't react.
She simply smiled.
"Oh?" she said calmly.
"So my work isn't worth one million."
Slowly, she slipped her hand into her pocket and took out her phone.
"Then that's fine," Elina continued lightly.
"Because there's something in here that is worth one million."
She raised the phone slightly.
"Do you want to see it?"
Before they could answer, she tapped the screen.
The video began to play.
The moment Martha and the man saw it, their faces froze.
Shock hit first.
Then fear. Arena was the one who spoke next.
"If this video reaches your wife," she said calmly, glancing at the man,
Or uploaded to the media—just imagine."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Think about how much publicity you'll get."
Her gaze shifted to Martha.
"Martha," Arena continued lightly,
"you should be thanking me."
A faint, ironic smile appeared on her lips.
"I'm being very down-to-earth right now.
After everything you did to me—"
She paused, letting the words sink in.
"—I'm still helping you."
The room fell into complete silence.After the video finished playing, the man panicked.
He suddenly turned toward Martha, his voice shaking with anger and fear.
"Stop it. Stop all this madness," he snapped.
"This mess—this entire situation—is because of you, Martha."
He pointed at her.
"If that video leaks… if it gets posted anywhere—"
His eyes flashed dangerously.
"I swear, I'll destroy your career.
I won't let you survive in this industry."That man knew one thing very clearly.
If his wife's family ever found out about this—
he wouldn't survive it.
Not socially.
Not mentally.
Not at all.
The thought alone made his stomach twist.
Martha froze in panic. Her voice trembled as she blurted out, "I'll pay one million. Just… give me at least one week."
Elena tilted her head, amused. "One week?" she repeated lightly. "Fine. Then keep two million ready."
Martha snapped, "Have you lost your mind? Where am I supposed to get two million from?"
Elena laughed—soft, lazy, and dangerous. "Then bring one million by tomorrow," she said mockingly. "Because you never know… when a video might suddenly leak and start trending in the media."
She rose from her seat and walked toward the door like she already owned the place. Just before stepping out, Elena stopped and glanced back at them, her smile cold and merciless.
"And don't try to be smart," she added casually. "What I showed you today was just a trailer. Push me, and I'll make sure you watch the entire movie—frame by frame."
Saying this, she walked away without looking back.
By the time Elena was almost home, a faint sound reached her ears. Soft. Wrong.
Her assassin instincts reacted before her mind did.
She followed the noise, slipping into the shadowed corner of the street. Someone was there.
In the next second, Elena attacked—fast, precise, lethal. The kind of strike that would leave a man unable to stand for at least a week.
But the impossible happened.
The man caught her wrist mid-air.
Elena stiffened.
A metallic scent filled the air. Blood. Fresh. Heavy.
He's injured, she realized instantly. Not in full condition… then how did he stop me?
Before she could react again, the man pulled her closer and pressed a knife against her throat.
His voice was low, strained, but steady. "Take me somewhere safe," he said. "And don't try anything clever. I don't mind spilling a little of your blood if you force me."
Elena looked up at him—and froze.
He had a face that didn't belong in dark alleys or violence. Sharp features carved to perfection. Deep eyes, cold yet dangerously calm. A straight nose, defined jaw, lips stained faintly with blood—but still breathtaking.
Even injured, even bleeding, he looked unreal.
Elena swallowed slowly.
Great, she thought grimly. Trouble with a perfect face. The moment the man noticed her gaze lingering on his face, something in him changed.
His grip tightened—just enough to warn her. The knife pressed closer to her skin, cold and unforgiving.
His eyes darkened, losing whatever restraint they had left. The calm on his face turned sharp, predatory.
A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips—not warm, not kind. It was the kind of smile that promised consequences.
"Eyes down," he said quietly. His voice was low, rough, carrying a threat that didn't need to be raised.
Despite the blood loss, his presence grew heavier, more oppressive. Like a wounded beast—cornered, but still lethal.
Even injured, he radiated control. Power. Danger.
Elena finally understood one thing clearly.
This man wasn't someone who survived by luck.
He was someone who made others fear surviving him.