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But this time, the system's voice was strangely excited, “Host, host! I'm detecting unprecedented emotional fluctuations from the target! Would you like to try one more time?”
I laughed bitterly.
Probably because I died, and now Isabella has no donor.
Just as I was about to refuse, the system glitched—it forcibly pulling me back.
I opened my eyes to the familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant.
“Ms. Elara, you're awake!”
The nurse by my bedside was one of the ones who'd helped restrain me.
She looked inappropriately thrilled.
“Dr. Pierce stayed by your side for a whole day and night.
He's so devoted.”
I stared at the ceiling. “Want to trade places with me?”
“Ms. Elara, where are you going?”
Ignoring her, I got up and walked out.
The wind on the hospital rooftop was biting cold—a harsh early spring chill.
A man was smoking there.
As I walked toward the edge, I asked the system, If I die, the mission ends for good, right?
Even if you drag me back, I won't do this stupid mission.
I miss my parents.
System, “Host, just one more attempt! The data suggests a high probability of success this time!”
The man heard my footsteps and turned—his expression immediately shifting to impatience.
“Elara, what nonsense are you up to now?”
Adrian's grip on my arm was brutal, as if he wanted to crush my bones.
He looked at me with pure animosity.
I sneered inwardly.
Of course—I'm not his real sister.
I was adopted from an orphanage by his mom after thier biological Isabella was kidnapped at age four.
Their mom, consumed by grief, had been taken to the orphanage by Mr. Blackwood took her to the orphanage and picked a girl Isabella's age—me.
But less than a year later, Isabella was found.
My place in the family became profoundly awkward.
Mr. Blackwood didn't want to send me back—bad for the corporate image.
But Adrian and his mom poured all their compensatory guilt into doting on Isabella.
They began ignoring me, then hating me, all because Isabella constantly accused me of “hurting her.”
No matter how hard I tried to please them, Adrian always said I was “disgusting.”
“Elara, drop the act.
Isabella sees through it—so do I.”
He stubbed out his cigarette and crossed his arms, blocking my path.
I ignored him and continued walking toward the edge.
Suddenly, he yanked me back violently. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to jump?”
I looked back at him, smirking. “None of your business.
Go worry about your real sister.”
He glared, fury erupting. “You ungrateful bitch! We raised you! How dare you act like we owe you something?”
“Stop acting like the world wronged you.”
“Jumping? It's just another one of your pathetic cries for attention, isn't it?”
I raised a brow. “You think I won't so it?”
He hesitated for a split second, then scoffed with contempt. “You're far too selfish to actually go through with it.”
