Fifteen minutes. That's how long I lay on my mattress, wheezing like a cursed harmonica and trying to convince my body that dying again wasn't on the schedule. The push-ups had drained me. Every bone in my body ached in betrayal. Muscles I hadn't spoken to in years were now screaming insults in fluent agony.
And then it hit me.
"Oh gods," I whispered, sniffing the air around me. "I smell like regret and foot."
It was bad. Like monster corpse bad. Like "rotted onions left in a leather boot during summer" bad. Sweat dripped down my back, and my shirt clung to me like a parasite.
Even the system chimed in.
[Host's stench level: Catastrophic. Immediate hygiene required.]
"Wow," I muttered, dragging myself up. "Judging me already. Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
[I am. That's why I'm urging you to decontaminate before the village starts an exorcism.]
I shuffled to the cracked wardrobe in the corner of my room and pulled out the least awful clothes I could find. A loose tunic with a rip at the hem and trousers that might once have been black but now leaned more toward "ash gray of sadness." Not exactly fashion-forward, but they didn't smell like despair, so… progress.
I pushed open the door to my room the glorified storage closet and stepped into the hallway.
Bad idea.
"Phew," came a familiar, grating voice. "What died in your shirt? Oh wait… it's just you."
I turned slowly. And there he was. My brother.
Riven.
Smirking like he was born to ruin lives.
Tall, smug, and every bit the golden child our parents had prayed for. His hair was neatly tied back, his uniform clean and pressed probably ironed by one of our undead ancestors for all I cared. His aura sparkled faintly, a sign of his affinity with wind magic. How poetic. A walking fart with powers.
"Oh look," I said sweetly, "it's my favorite bastard. Still not dead?"
Riven clicked his tongue and leaned closer, pretending to fan the air. "Seriously, Arielle, you could weaponize that smell. Oh wait you can't, because you don't have magic."
"Why are you still talking?" I said, flashing him the most elegant middle finger I could muster. "Go cry to mommy about your hair not being shiny enough or something."
That did it. His smile dropped a fraction. But before he could respond with something appropriately condescending, footsteps thundered down the hall.
Of course.
Like demons summoned from the pit of favoritism, our parents appeared.
"What is this shouting?" our mother snapped, eyes locking onto me like I was a stain on her rug. Her hair was as perfect as ever an elaborate braid that screamed I think I'm better than you. Spoiler: she did.
"She started it," Riven said instantly, flipping his hair with enough force to knock out a butterfly.
"I was walking," I said dryly. "Sorry for existing. Won't happen again."
"Don't speak back," my father barked. "You have no right. You're lucky we even let you live in this house."
"Aw, such love," I said. "Makes a girl feel all warm inside. Or maybe that's just the rage."
"Enough," my mother snapped. "Stop wasting our time and go scrub the kitchen. Then start the laundry. And cook something edible for once. You're not here to lounge around like a lady of the court."
Right. Because unpaid servant with emotional trauma was a much better role.
I didn't answer. I just turned and walked toward the bathroom.
"What do you think you're doing?" my father barked.
"Obeying the system," I muttered under my breath. "Operation: De-Stink."
I reached the bathroom door and paused. Behind me, the usual insults continued, fading into static as I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
The cracked mirror above the sink caught my eye. I smiled.
"Well," I whispered, "guess it's time for a little preview of vengeance."
I moved to the farthest corner of the bathroom just out of view if anyone peeked in and whispered, "Hey, System. Can I try something? Just a spark."
[You want to burn something already?]
"Not something. Someone's hair."
[…Proceed.]
I lifted a single finger, and the warmth from before returned. My heart thudded with excitement. I whispered the word that had echoed in my soul for the last half hour:
"Burn."
Somewhere down the hall, a loud, unmistakable shriek echoed through the house.
I bit back a snort. Then I failed. I laughed. I laughed so hard I had to lean against the wall to breathe.
[Target partially incinerated. Host's precision: Impressive.]
"Partial?" I gasped between cackles. "How much…?"
[Your mother is now approximately 48% bald.]
"Oh, gods, that's beautiful."
With a grin of pure mischief, I peeled off my disgusting clothes and stepped into the icy trickle of the shower. The water pressure was terrible. The soap was a suspicious gray lump. But to me, it was paradise.
I scrubbed like a woman possessed, all while the distant howling of my mother's hair-related agony echoed like a twisted lullaby.
By the time I emerged twenty minutes later, I felt like a new person. Clean. Fresh. Slightly evil. Hair damp and wild, I strutted down the hallway like I owned the place.
And then I saw her.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, screaming at a poor servant about "magic sabotage" was my mother.
Her once-glorious braid?
Gone.
Now she looked like a flamingo who'd lost a bar fight.
I couldn't help it. I howled with laughter.
"Oh no," I said, pretending to gasp. "What happened to your glorious hair, Mother? Did a fireball fall from heaven and smite you for your sins?"
Her face turned redder than her favorite wine.
"You! You dare to mock me?! OUT! You're not getting a single crumb today! You'll starve, you useless, disgusting little rat!"
Still laughing, I bowed. "Gladly."
And I stepped outside.
The air was crisp. Cool wind brushed against my still-damp skin. Birds chirped in the trees. Children laughed and ran around the village square. Adults chatted. Farmers sold vegetables. A dog barked.
It was so… normal.
And I hated it.
I remembered the last version of this street. Blood. Smoke. Screams. My hands shaking as I stumbled over corpses. People weeping over loved ones. Ash falling from the sky like snow.
And now? Peace. Calm. Happiness. As if none of it had ever happened.
I walked past them. The same villagers who used to smile at me with fake kindness when I was a child, then turned cold once they realized I had no magic.
The whispers followed me.
"That's the useless girl, right?""Still no magic at her age?""She's a burden.""Why does her family even let her stay?"
I ignored them. Every word was a tick on the scoreboard of my rage. Let them mock me now.
One day, I'd be the nightmare they whispered about in the dark.
[New Quest Available: "Bunny Brutality"]
I blinked as a translucent box popped up.
[Objective:]
Defeat one Forest Rabbit in the Eastern Woods.
Reward: +1 Strength | +5 EXP
Warning: Forest Rabbits are faster than they look. Also, they bite.
I stared at the screen. "You want me to fight a rabbit?"
[Correct. Don't underestimate them. Last host did. May he rest in pieces.]
"Well," I sighed. "Let's go commit rabbit murder."