"Beep… beep… beep…"
The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor echoed softly in the dimly lit hospital room, the only sign that life still lingered in the fragile body on the bed.
A girl—perhaps nineteen—lay motionless under pale sheets, her skin almost the same shade. Her silver hair spilled across the pillow like moonlight on snow, tangled and untouched.
Then—a flicker.
Her eyelids twitched.
"Hnn… hmm…"
A ragged breath escaped her lips as her lashes parted, revealing glassy, unfocused eyes. She blinked against the sterile light above, pupils shrinking as awareness crept in.
Groggy and confused, she slowly pushed herself up with a wince, strands of silver falling over her shoulders in ripples.
"Is my… charging full?" she muttered hoarsely, her voice barely more than a whisper—oddly casual, like waking from a nap.
Then—sharp pain.
"Aghhh!" She cried out, clutching her head. Her fingers brushed over a thick bandage, sticky with dried antiseptic.
Her breathing hitched.
Suddenly, fragments began to flood her mind—flashes of someone else's life: laughter, grief, unfamiliar faces, whispered names. The memories clawed their way into her consciousness, tangling with her own like ivy wrapping around a broken wall.
Who—what—is this?
Her eyes fluttered open again, this time clearer. Brighter. But not quite the same.
A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, dry and laced with irony."So… I didn't survive that self-destruction after all. Good for me, I guess."
But then her gaze darkened as confusion returned.
"But whose memories are these? And why… why am I in this girl's body?"
She stared at her own hands, pale and trembling. So small. So soft. Not the ones she remembered.
Before she could unravel the whirlwind of questions, the door creaked open with a low groan.
She stiffened, snapped from her thoughts.
She turned her head slowly, the motion smooth, almost feline. Her gaze landed on a man in a sharp black suit striding into the room with fury etched into every line of his face. His eyes blazed, nostrils flared, and one accusatory finger jabbed through the air like a spear.
"Grace! How dare you hurt Lucy? You're going to pay for this—I swear it!"
He looked like a storm trying to cram itself into a man's body.
Grace tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing as she watched him rant and flail like a stage performer mid-meltdown.
Who is this joker? Her thoughts were calm, detached.Does this girl… know him?
She lowered her gaze and tried to dig through the swirl of foreign memories now tangled with her own.
The man's voice rose in indignation as he took her silence for guilt.
"She's so sweet! So kind! And you—you hit her with a car! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Grace blinked slowly—then her eyes lit with a spark of understanding as a memory clicked into place.
Ah… so this is the guy.The one this body was supposed to get engaged to next month. Andrew. Youngest son of the Johnson family.She couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at her lips.
Lifting her eyes, she met his enraged expression with unnerving calm.
"So, why exactly are you worried about Lucy… Mr. Andrew?" she asked, voice level, each word deliberate.
The room fell into a sudden, uneasy stillness.
Andrew froze mid-rant. The fire in his eyes flickered with confusion. No tears, no guilt, no desperate apologies—just a calm, almost curious look from a girl who should be pleading for forgiveness.
His brow twitched.
"W-What?" he stammered, thrown off by the unfamiliar presence behind the familiar face.
The Grace he knew—timid, emotional, easily shaken—was gone.
And this… was something else entirely.
"Because she's your sister! Don't you understand that?" Andrew's voice cracked, loud with frustration. "Why did you hurt her?"
Grace let out a slow sigh, brushing a stray silver strand behind her ear. She glanced toward the bedside table where a sleek hospital-issued tablet sat. Her fingers hovered over it, trying to connect with the embedded neural interface—something she'd used in her past life with ease.
Nothing.
Her brow furrowed, just slightly.
This tech is behind... she thought, lips pressing into a thin line. I really did die and wake up in a low-tech body. Great.
She turned her head toward Andrew, expression unreadable."Mr. Andrew," she began coolly, "from my understanding, she's not my real sister."
Her eyes narrowed slightly."And why are you so concerned that I hurt her… without any proof?" She tilted her head. "Unless you were the one who did it—and now you're trying to pin it on me?"
Andrew flinched, the color draining slightly from his face.
"W–What are you saying, Grace?" he stammered. His confident posture faltered. "Why would I do that? She's my lo—" He stopped, catching himself."I mean… my sister."
Grace's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened like a blade.
She had heard the hesitation.
"Mm." She hummed, as if filing the slip away like a weapon to be drawn later. "Interesting choice of words."
Andrew shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unsure whether the girl in the hospital bed was the same person he'd come to scold. There was something off—her tone, her composure, the eerie intelligence behind those eyes.
"Don't you dare hurt her again. I'm going. Bye."
Andrew spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, his polished shoes clicking against the tile in a rhythm that tried to sound authoritative—but landed more like retreat.
Grace watched the door swing shut behind him.
Then she shook her head slowly, lips curling with dry amusement.
"Joker." The word escaped in a murmur, almost fond—if not for the venom behind it.
She leaned back against the headboard, fingers absently brushing over the bandage on her head as her thoughts drifted.
"With this body… I think I can see things more clearly now." Her voice was softer, more introspective. "Xander was a joker too—same as him. cold, dramatic, pretending to care."
She scoffed under her breath, eyes darkening for a brief moment.
"Not worth my time. Neither of them." A faint, bitter smile ghosted her lips. "Why was I even interested in him?"
The room was quiet again. Just the faint hum of hospital machinery, and the far-off murmur of nurses in the corridor.
And for the first time in a long while, Grace felt… clarity.