It was a stormy night. The wind howled against the windows, rattling the glass panes as rain battered the manor from every side. Inside her dimly lit room, Amelia Harrowind sat quietly on the edge of her bed. She felt weak—more than she had in weeks. The dizziness in her head wouldn't leave, and a cold heaviness pressed down on her chest.
She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as thoughts of her life drifted through her mind. A life of duty, expectations, and suffering.
Then — the faint glow of candlelight flickered at the edge of her vision.
Her heart tightened. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't respond. Panic settled in as a figure stepped quietly into the room. The glow of the candle revealed a face she knew too well.
Celina Harrowind.
Her stepsister.
Celina sat down beside her on the bed, her face calm, almost smug. Amelia's body refused to move, her voice trapped in her throat. She could only watch as Celina leaned closer, her voice low and sharp.
"I never liked you," Celina whispered. "From the first moment I saw you as a child, I knew you'd steal everything from me. No matter how you're treated, people always look at you like you're some precious thing. You don't deserve it."
Celina's grip tightened around the candle.
"You were going to take the last thing I wanted — Duke Dorian Blackmoor. You thought marrying him would be your escape, even knowing what people say about him. But I won't let you. I won't watch you stand beside the most powerful man in this kingdom while I'm left with nothing."
She set the candle down, picked up a pillow, and pressed it over Amelia's face.
Amelia's weak body gave one last struggle, a single tear sliding down her cheek. This isn't the end… she thought, as darkness claimed her.
⸻
Anna's POV
At the same moment, in another world, Anna sat in a small, cramped changing room. She was exhausted, her muscles sore from the night's dancing. The dim light above the mirror cast tired shadows on her face as she leaned in, adjusting her appearance.
She wasn't proud of her job, but it paid her college fees, her rent, and kept her alive.
Her coworker, Nova, walked in carrying a drink. "I figured you could use this," Nova smiled, placing the cup down. "Half-time's in a bit. Rest up."
""I may not be proud of this life…" she muttered to herself, adjusting a loose curl of hair, "but I'm proud I'm surviving."
A soft laugh came from behind.
Nova stood at the doorway, holding a drink in one hand. "Oh, Anna," she said, smiling in that way she always did — too sweet. "Everything's gonna be alright soon."
Anna managed a tired smile and reached for the cup. "Thanks for being here for me.
She barely took a sip before her vision swam. The world tilted. The walls seemed to stretch and blur. Her throat burned. The glass slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"W-what…" Anna choked, struggling to rise to her feet, her body refusing to cooperate.
She reached out toward Nova, a desperate plea in her eyes.
But Nova didn't move to help.
Instead, she set the drink down neatly, stepped forward, and whispered coldly, "I've waited long enough for you to ruin your own life, but you just wouldn't hurry up."
Anna's heart pounded, her limbs trembling as she fought to stay upright.
Nova smirked and shoved her hard.
Anna fell to the floor, hitting the cold ground with a dull thud. The room spun around her as her breathing slowed.
Nova crouched beside her, watching with a strange satisfaction in her gaze. "Go on then, Anna. Die quickly. You've always taken up too much space."
The last thing Anna saw was that same, cruel smirk lingering on Nova's face as darkness swallowed her whole.
The Liminal Space
A white, endless void stretched in every direction — colorless, formless, silent.
Anna opened her eyes and saw a girl standing a few steps away. Long golden-blonde hair, pale skin, delicate features. A face too perfect to belong to the world Anna came from.
At the same moment, a voice echoed through the space, "You may choose your fate."
Before both women appeared a faint, glowing panel of words.
[Transmigrate into this body or fade into nothing.]
They each saw it.
The girl — Amelia — looked down at the hovering light in front of her, then back at Anna.
"I… I don't think you're from my world," Amelia said softly. Her voice was thin, exhausted. "But it doesn't matter. I've thought about it. Even if I went back… it would be the same. I'm too kind. Too quiet. People like me… we don't win."
She looked at Anna, her blue eyes dull but sincere. "I just don't want it to end like this."
Anna clenched her jaw, the bitterness in her chest rising. "My best friend poisoned me tonight. I've worked every day, fought for scraps, and what? To get betrayed by the one person I trusted. I'm tired."
Amelia gave a weak, sad smile.
"I can't help you. But maybe… You can live in my place. Do it differently. Don't let them win."
They didn't touch. No words of promise.
The panels flickered.
Amelia reached out — and instead of selecting to return, she let her hand fall away, and the words dimmed.
The light around her form cracked like glass.
Anna didn't hesitate. She chose.
The world tilted.
Anna's eyes snapped open.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe. It felt like invisible hands were wrapped around her throat, tightening. Panic seized her chest as she gasped, struggling against the pressure. Her limbs were heavy, but she forced her hand toward the small table by the bed.
Her fingers brushed against a cup of water. The cool glass tipped over and clattered to the floor, shattering the silence of the room.
A sharp intake of breath came from the doorway.
A young maid, no older than seventeen, stood frozen at the threshold — wide brown eyes staring at her as though she were a ghost.
Then the girl screamed.
"Lady Amelia is not dead! She's awake! Lady Amelia is alive!"
She turned and bolted down the hallway, her voice echoing through the corridors of the grand manor.
Anna sat up slowly, her throat raw, her chest heaving. Her vision blurred, but as the world around her settled, she realized this wasn't her tiny changing room.
This was somewhere else.
Anna sat there for a while, her breathing uneven as the echoes of the maid's voice faded down the hall. The heaviness in her chest had eased, but the confusion in her head only grew.
Was this a dream? Some kind of afterlife?
Slowly, she pushed the covers aside and forced herself to her feet. Her legs felt shaky beneath her, but she made her way across the room toward a tall, ornate mirror standing by the wall.
She hesitated before looking.
When her eyes finally met the reflection, it wasn't her face staring back.
Long, flowing golden-blonde hair cascaded down slender shoulders. Pale porcelain skin, delicate features, and a pair of clear, sapphire-blue eyes. The face was so soft, so graceful — so unfamiliar.
But not entirely.
Anna's chest tightened. She knew this face.
The girl from that empty, endless place…
Amelia.
Anna reached up and touched her cheek, her fingers brushing skin too smooth to be hers. Her throat felt tight again, but this time with disbelief.
So it was real.
Transmigration… it happened.
Memories of those last moments with Amelia flashed in her mind. That dim, hollow voice. The sadness in her eyes. The offer.
And then, just as quickly, her final moments came back — Nova's face, the fake smile, the poisoned drink, the betrayal.
Anna clenched her fists.
"Nova," she hissed under her breath, her voice sharp and low. "You snake."
She felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes but forced them back.
Turning her gaze to the mirror again, she studied the unfamiliar face. "Did you go through the same thing, Amelia? Betrayed by the one person you trusted?"
The room remained silent.
Anna swallowed hard and looked toward the door. "Well… not anymore."
A commotion erupted in the hallway.
Hurried footsteps echoed against the stone floor, voices murmuring in disbelief. The doors burst open, and two women swept into the room — one older, sharp-eyed and elegant, the other young with dark hair and a forced expression of concern.
Anna stiffened in the bed, instinct telling her these were no friends.
"Amelia, my dear child!" the older woman cried, pressing a hand to her chest. Lady Geneva.
Beside her, the younger woman feigned shock.
"H-How can this be…?" she stammered.
Anna narrowed her eyes. There was something bitter beneath those words.
She tilted her head slightly and spoke, her voice hoarse. "And… who are you?"
The younger woman's eyes widened in disbelief. "It's me, Celina," she said, trying to steady her voice. "Your… your sister."
At the name, Anna's chest tightened.
A memory from that strange, white place came rushing back — Amelia's voice, soft and brittle as she spoke into that endless void.
⸻
"I was born into a noble family — the Harrowinds. My mother died when I was six. Soon after, my father married her stepsister. A cold, bitter woman who never forgave my mother for existing. She hated me from the moment she stepped into that house."
"Her daughter, Celina… she inherited every ounce of that hatred. I was the perfect, obedient child. The one they called saintly. The one who smiled and stayed quiet, because I was supposed to. And Celina… she couldn't stand it."
"She envied everything. My grace, the way the servants spoke to me, even my hair. She tormented me in little ways, cruel ways. And when she heard that Duke Dorian Blackmoor — the one man no noblewoman dared marry — had taken interest in me… she decided she wouldn't let me have that either."
"I never fought back. I showed mercy, even when they didn't deserve it. Maybe that's why I ended up dead in my own bed."
⸻
The memory faded.
Anna swallowed hard, staring at the young woman in front of her. So this was Celina. The one who smothered Amelia in cold blood. The one who smiled in public and schemed in secret.
And here she was, standing by her bedside, pretending to mourn.
Anna forced a faint, trembling smile.
"Well… Celina," she rasped. "It's good to know my memory's still a little cloudy."
Lady Geneva stepped closer, forcing her face into an expression of false relief. "You gave us such a fright, dear. Rest. Don't speak too much."
Anna leaned back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded, heart pounding.
I know what you did, she thought.
But for now — she played along.