Chapter 1

"Ugh—"

Luna White gasped as a sharp pain shot through the back of her head. Instinctively, she reached up and felt a lump the size of an egg. Darkness swam before her eyes, and the pungent stench of manure—cow and pig—filled her nostrils.

"Am I... dead?" she murmured.

Memories flooded back. She remembered the moment Maya White had run her over with a car, the venomous hatred in that woman’s eyes. But if she were dead, why could she still feel pain?

The familiar grunting of a sow from the nearby pigpen made her shudder.

Her eyes snapped open.

In the dim light, a tattered calendar hung on the cracked earthen wall. The date—July 8, 1985—burned into her vision like a brand.

"Did I... go back in time?"

Luna stared in disbelief at her calloused yet slender hands. This was her eighteen-year-old body, fresh out of high school.

Fragments of her past life flashed through her mind. That summer, her grandmother Clara White had beaten her bloody with a fire poker for refusing to leave the village and work in the city like the other girls.

"Ungrateful brat!" Clara’s voice still echoed in her ears. "Your brother Ethan sends his army pay home to feed us, and you dare dream of running away?"

Luna clenched her jaw. Last time, she had lain unconscious with fever for three days. When she woke, Clara had lied, telling her she’d failed the college entrance exams. Only years later did she learn the truth—her acceptance letter had been tossed into the bamboo grove behind the mountain.

"Not this time," she whispered, digging her nails into her palms. "No one will fool me again."

Her head throbbed, but she couldn’t afford to pass out. She needed to treat the wound before it worsened—just like last time.

But the village doctor wouldn’t help her. Everyone knew Clara was too stingy to spare a single coin.

Then, realization struck.

"Supernatural Ability..."

In her past life, after being sold to a gambler for marriage, she had fallen off a cliff while escaping. At the brink of death, an inexplicable power had surged through her—healing her injuries and granting her the ability to cure others.

"Guess I’ll have to die again."

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up and spotted the rusted sickle in the corner. Its blade gleamed coldly in the dim light, as if beckoning her.

Luna took a deep breath and gripped the handle.

Pain seared through her, yet a bitter smile curled her lips. If fate had given her a second chance, this time, she would make every tormentor pay in blood.

"Clara White... Jack White..." She spat their names like poison. "Just you wait."

The sickle sliced across her wrist. Blood gushed out. Darkness swallowed her vision—but her smile only widened.

This time, she would rewrite her destiny.