“Splash…”

Zhou Xun scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on his face. He lingered, the coldness awakening his senses as he gripped the edge of the sink, breathing deeply.

When he raised his head, his reflection stared back: the face of a fifteen-year-old, bright-eyed and youthful. It had been two weeks, but Zhou Xun hadn’t yet come to terms with the face he now wore. Each glance in the mirror made him pause, needing a moment to reconcile this new reality.

He reached up, pinched his cheeks, stretched the soft skin, and released. The red marks left behind seemed almost surreal. A part of him wished that if he just pressed hard enough, he could shatter this illusion like breaking a mirror, as if waking from a bad dream. But he knew that wasn’t possible.

“Slap!”

He slapped himself hard, leaving a sting on his cheek. Despite this face's youthful resemblance to a young Leonardo DiCaprio, Zhou Xun didn’t hold back. This wasn’t about waking himself up—it was to ensure he stayed sharp in the dream he now found himself living.

"If I’m here, I might as well get comfortable," he muttered to himself, trying to gather courage.

“Knock, knock, knock…”

A soft knock on the bathroom door was accompanied by Mina's voice, her concern apparent.

“Karen, are you alright?”

Mina was his cousin, the daughter of his uncle Mason. And the name she called—Karen—was the name of the boy whose life he was now living.

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to sound as natural as possible.

"Alright then," Mina replied with a sigh of relief. "I’ll bring your breakfast up to your room."

“No need, Mina. I'll come down to eat.”

A brief pause, and then her surprised voice responded, “Okay, Karen.”

Zhou Xun gazed into the mirror, dabbing a cold towel over his face. He had once been a psychologist, with his own practice in Jinling City. He even served as a consultant for the local police, stepping in as a negotiator during critical situations. In one such hostage situation, he’d leaped to save a young girl from being thrown off a rooftop. His heroic attempt had ended in darkness, a freefall into oblivion.

When he came to, it wasn’t in a hospital bed surrounded by medical personnel. Instead, a foreign setting greeted him—a grand house, where a family of “foreign friends” welcomed him with anxious and unfamiliar faces.

The eldest among them was his “grandfather,” Dis Imola, who gazed at him with a mixture of relief and something he couldn’t decipher. His uncle, Mason, was exuberant, and his aunt Mary smiled, though her expression seemed to waver before settling into forced pleasantries. His Aunt Winnie, on the other hand, had burst into tears, overjoyed at his recovery. Surrounding them were three children: Mason and Mary’s teenage children, Mina and Lunt, and his Aunt Winnie’s daughter, Kris.

Zhou Xun—or rather, Karen—had apparently lost both parents at a young age, and this extended family was his only remaining kin. 

Since waking up in this body two weeks ago, he had spent most of his time bedridden, partially due to physical weakness and partly to process the memories that came flooding into his mind. Oddly, these memories felt more like files stored in a distant archive, accessible yet separate. He was still Zhou Xun, but Karen's past was a part of him now, like a library he could peruse at will.

With one last steadying breath, Zhou Xun opened the bathroom door. The family’s black cat, Paul, lounged on the windowsill, casting him a lazy, indifferent glance before turning away. In a moment of clarity, Zhou Xun whispered to himself, “From now on, I am Karen.”

---

Zhou Xun made his way downstairs, passing through the grand, somewhat chilly halls of the Immolace family home. Located at 13 Main Street in the West District of Roga City, the villa was spacious, surrounded by a large garden. The idea of owning such a grand house was foreign to him, a former city dweller in a modest apartment. His heart lifted slightly at the thought: At least I didn’t end up destitute.

As he reached the second floor, he could already hear voices from the dining room. Breakfast was being prepared, and Mina was setting the table with her usual care. His aunt Mary noticed him and couldn’t help but remark, “Well, well, our young master finally decided to join us downstairs instead of having his loyal maid bring breakfast to him.”

Karen smiled warmly and replied, “Thank you, Aunt Mary, for looking after me so well these past few days. I wouldn’t be recovering this quickly without your care.”

The usually sharp-tongued Mary seemed momentarily caught off-guard by his response and simply muttered, “Alright, just eat up.”

Karen took his seat, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich, wondering if he’d ever get used to the bland flavors that characterized their meals here. His mind drifted back to the flavors of his old life: spicy dishes, rich with heat and depth. But just as he was reminiscing, a honk outside broke the peace.

“Your father’s back,” Mary noted with a sigh, setting aside her apron as she prepared to greet him.

Karen instinctively rose, following her downstairs. The family business, a “funeral care company,” occupied the first floor of the house. The imposing title “Immolace Funeral Care Company” was emblazoned on a plaque near the door. His grandfather ran the business, managing both family and professional matters with a strict sense of order.

The funeral home’s hearse had just pulled up to the driveway. Two men, Paul and Ron, were maneuvering a stretcher out of the vehicle, covered with a white cloth that left little to the imagination. Mason, too dignified to deal directly with corpses, remained behind the wheel, shouting a cheerful, “My little Karen! Looking lively!”

“Yes, Uncle,” Karen responded politely.

The family’s routine with death was disturbingly matter-of-fact, yet he found himself fascinated by their composure. Aunt Mary inspected the body briefly before sighing with relief. It was the corpse of a young man, his face turned unnaturally to the side. From her tone, it was clear that “unnatural” deaths were far less convenient.

Karen watched as Aunt Mary led the way into the basement, a sloped passage that led down to the heart of their business. The basement, with its somber stillness, housed three rooms: one for storage, another for the bodies, and the last, Mary’s workspace, where she prepared bodies for viewing.

The white cloth had barely been pulled back when Karen’s eyes met the vacant, open stare of the body on the stretcher. Aunt Mary lit a cigarette and pushed the pack toward Karen, who instinctively took one and tried a puff, only to be overtaken by violent coughs.

The corpse, whose head had initially been at an odd angle, suddenly seemed to shift. Karen reached to adjust it when he felt a strange, resistant force, almost as if the body was pushing back. He exerted more pressure, only to find the face slowly twisting back into place… and then, unnervingly, Jeff’s eyes flicked open.

Karen staggered back, heart pounding as he registered the sight before him: the corpse was looking directly at him, lips moving to form a wordless, frantic message. And then, a harsh, metallic clang echoed in his mind, a chilling reverberation that seemed to knock him off balance.

He collapsed to his knees, disoriented, the world blurring around him. When he looked up, he was greeted by an impossible vision: towering legs encased in high heels, an elegant figure bending down with an eerie, curious smile. She radiated an ethereal beauty but also a haunting presence that made his skin crawl.

A drop of thick liquid dripped onto him, and as he looked up, he realized with horror that it was blood. The strange woman looked down at him, her eyes gleaming with an unnatural light as her mouth curved into a smile.

A voice, deep and magnetic, seemed to vibrate from within the walls:

“Don’t be afraid… this beautiful, enchanting lady… she’s simply craving your body.”

The room seemed to fade into darkness, a terrifying chill washing over him as the words sank in.