Evelyn let out a long breath.

She had been sitting under the shade of a Nara tree for hours now, watching unfamiliar faces drift past her as if she were invisible. A small wooden bowl sat on the ground in front of her, empty. Much like the hollow, gnawing pit in her stomach.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around it.

She had died.

She could still remember the fire, how it devoured her, how the pain had been so intense her mind had simply… shut down. The memory clung to her like a stubborn parasite, making her shiver despite the heat pressing down on her skin.

So why was she here?

Why was she breathing? Why didn’t anything hurt? And why did her body feel… whole?

Her gaze drifted upward.

Towering pagoda-style buildings lined the street, their tiled roofs curving elegantly toward the sky. People passed by in flowing hanfu, sleeves swaying with every step, entirely unbothered by the oppressive heat.

It looked like a historical Chinese drama.

This wasn’t heaven.

It wasn’t purgatory.

And it definitely wasn’t hell.

Well, it was hot. But if this were hell, she doubted she’d still have her sanity.

“…Then where am I?”

She muttered the question aloud. No one answered. No one even looked at her.

Her last memory was holding Kayla close, whispering lies about everything being okay while death closed in around them.

Now she was sitting on a dusty street, smelling like she hadn’t bathed in, honestly, several lifetimes.

“Wait,” she murmured.

“Is this even my body?”

Her hands flew to her chest.

Flat.

She swallowed, then slowly, carefully, let her hand move lower. Her fingers stiffened at once.

Something was… there.

She reached out even further, only to snatch her hand back as if she had touched fire.

“What in the heavens is that?!”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She scanned the street wildly until, she spotted two men, hauling a large, polished bronze mirror across the road.

Without thinking, she bolted, and skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, nearly tripping over her own feet.

The face staring back at her made her blood run cold.

Messy black hair. Hollow cheeks. Skin pale from hunger and sun.

A man.

She staggered back.

“That’s not me,” she whispered.

The realization hit her square in the chest.

She wasn’t just alive.

She was someone else.

A man, to be exact.

“…Fantastic,” she muttered dryly.

“Just fantastic.”

Was this what they called a second life?

And if so, what happened to the original owner of this body?

Had he vanished?

Or was she… borrowing it?

Possessing it?

Before she could spiral any further, a sharp voice snapped her back to reality.

“Ye Run Chu! Move aside! I don’t have time for your nonsense today!”

A man shoved past her, pushing a wooden cart stacked with a massive block of ice.

Ye Run Chu?

Evelyn blinked, then hurried after the man who had just passed her.

“Grandpa.” she asked instinctively.

“Is that this guy’s name?”

The man shot her a sharp look.

“If it isn’t, am I just yelling random names in the street?” he snapped.

“And who are you calling Grandpa?”

With an irritated click of his tongue, he marched off, continuing to the road.

“…Ye Run Chu,” Evelyn murmured, testing the name.

So that was who she was now?

A sudden sharp twist in her stomach doubled her over.

“Oh... wow,” she groaned.

“I’m starving.”

She rummaged through Ye Run Chu pockets on instinct.

Nothing.

Right... I'm inside a beggar body.

Her eyes drifted toward the food stalls lining the street. The smell of roasted duck, sizzling pork, and steaming buns curled around her like a personal attack.

She sniffed.

“Smells amaz—ow,” she hissed as another hunger pang hit.

She sucked in a breath.

Okay. Think.

Were out of choices. Begging would take too long, and this body couldn’t afford to wait, not another minute. It was already on the brink of shutting down from starvation, for how long? I do not know. It was either starve and die with dignity… or survive without it.

She chose survival. She couldn’t die a second time. The God of Heaven had given her another chance to live, granted, under peculiar arrangements, but no matter. This would do.

Let’s survive.

By stealing. 

No!

“I’m not stealing,” she told herself firmly.

“I’m borrowing.” Yes. Borrowing. She’d pay it back later. Probably. If she remembered.

Decision made, she straightened and slipped into the crowd, weaving between people with surprising ease.

Her gaze locked onto a well-dressed man, a heavy purse dangling from his belt.

Perfect.

Quick fingers. Clean movement.

Coins in hand.

No one noticed. Except a small child holding a stick of tanghulu.

Their eyes met.

Evelyn slowly smiled, pressed a finger to her lips, and whispered, 

“Shh.”

The child giggled and nodded solemnly.

She exhaled and disappeared back into the crowd, smirking faintly.

Moments later, she slammed a coin onto a food stall counter.

“Uncle,” she said decisively.

“How much for two meat buns?”