“Hiss—ow!”

A ferocious zombie lunged at her, sinking its teeth into Beverly Caldwell before she could even react. Everything went black.

No... No, not like this!

Beverly shot up in bed, heart pounding. What the hell? Last she remembered, she was reading a novel, then being attacked. Now—now she was somewhere else.

She hadn’t even wrapped her head around it yet when she felt a hand rummaging through her coat pocket.

"Well, well, this little brat’s got some valuable stuff on her!"

A voice, greedy and downright gleeful, echoed nearby. Beverly instantly remembered this part of the story.

It was one of those cliché male-centered novels, you know? The kind where the hero, Ethan Reynolds, uses his rebirth to charm and exploit a string of women on his way to becoming some big shot.

What burned Beverly up the most was that the character sharing her name was the first to be used and tossed aside. A pathetic little stepping stone.

Originally, Beverly was the only granddaughter of Victor Caldwell, a wealthy tycoon from the South. Real diamond of a family. But when times got rough, Victor gave up most of his fortune just to keep everyone alive.

After he passed, her dad, Henry Caldwell, lived like he was walking on eggshells—barely spending a dime, afraid of drawing attention. Still, things spiraled fast. Henry had no choice but to send Beverly to a trusted friend in another city for safety. He even publicly cut ties with her in the paper, hoping it’d make her less of a target.

But once she got to that city? The door slammed shut in her face. Out of options, she came back to Yangcheng, only to find her dad locked up and their home ransacked.

She tried tracking him down, reached out to everyone she could think of. Old coworkers, past friends—no one wanted to get involved. Only Brandon Pierce, a classmate from back in high school, agreed to meet her.

Thinking she finally caught a break, she drank the water he gave her—only to pass out.

“Ma, can you get going already?” Brandon was trying to sound calm, but you could hear the eagerness in his voice.

“What’s the rush? I bring someone over, and just like that, she’s your wife. After this, you get to sleep with her whenever you feel like it.”

Alicia Cohen grinned, smug as could be.

“Then hurry up!” Brandon huffed, breath getting heavier.

“Alright, alright!” Alicia called over her shoulder, humming some off-tune melody as she double-checked Beverly’s pockets one last time, then swung the door shut behind her on her way out.

The second the door clicked, Brandon rushed over, yanking at Beverly’s clothes with shaking hands.But before he could even touch the edge of her shirt, a sharp pain slammed into his chest. The next second, he was kicked squarely and landed on the floor with a thud.

He looked up, only to see the woman on the bed had already sat up. The once-soft gaze was now cold and piercing, so chilling it made his stomach turn. That gentle, obedient girl was gone, like she'd been swapped with someone else.

Brandon Pierce froze for a second, then his eyes darkened with twisted excitement, desire stirring in his gut. "Beverly, you're up? Perfect timing—let me take good care of you."

Seeing he could still get to his feet, Beverly Caldwell cursed herself silently. She’d aimed too high, should’ve kicked lower.

As he lunged again, she swiftly dodged and slammed her foot down hard on his back.

The sound of cracking bones split the air, followed by a scream that could curdle blood. Beverly smirked and grabbed a red wedding pillowcase nearby, wrapping it tight around Brandon’s neck.

Only when his flailing started to fade did she finally let go.

She leaned in to check if he was still breathing—unfortunately, he was.

This wasn't the apocalypse; killing wasn't something she could do freely here.

Still, since he’d drugged the original Beverly and tried to frame her, he sure as hell wasn’t getting off easy.

With a sneer, she shoved him back onto the bed and clapped the dust from her hands like he was something dirty she didn’t want touching her.

Her eyes swept over the room now. Peeling whitewashed walls, a faded portrait of a national leader, rough-checkered bedding on a plain wooden bed. By the window stood an old desk, its paint worn away, piled with tattered dictionaries and random paperbacks. A bright peony enamel mug and a lamp with a glass shade perched quietly to the side.

Everything in here screamed of that time period—simple, restrictive, patchworked together.

But Beverly didn’t linger on it. Life in the apocalypse had left her long used to rolling with whatever came her way.

Compared to back then—fighting hungry zombies, starvation, constant fear—this was practically paradise.

And now? She had knowledge of the book's plot and her powers from the other world. There was no reason for her to end up like the miserable girl in the story.

With that, she wasted no time and started searching the place for anything of value.

Since Alicia Cohen had taken her stuff while she was unconscious, it was only fair she pick up a few "souvenirs" of her own.

Pretty soon, she'd dug up all sorts of hidden cash and ration coupons from Brandon’s coat and around the room.

She swept a glance around again, snagged the fountain pen from the desk, the watch off Brandon’s wrist, and stowed it all along with the money and coupons.

In this era, this was the real treasure, no way was she leaving it behind.

With a small wave of her hand, everything vanished without a trace.For the first time, a real smile crept onto her face—it seemed her powers had made the journey here with her.

In her last life, she'd awakened both space and wood abilities. They weren’t the flashy combat types, but as support, she was top-tier. Every team wanted her.

Once she'd finished raiding the bedroom, Beverly Caldwell stepped out.

No one else was around, but she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

She turned and slipped into Alicia Cohen’s room, rummaging around until she spotted something inside a hidden panel of the wardrobe—an extra-wrapped handkerchief and a tidy little wallet.

She opened the cloth first, and just as she'd suspected, it was where Alicia stashed her cash, bankbooks, ration coupons, and household register.

Then came the wallet. Flipping it open, she found a photo of a family of three. The couple looked good-looking and cheerful, cuddling a sweet-looking little girl who looked straight out of a picture book.

No need to guess—it was the wallet Alicia had pinched from the original Beverly.

Without a second thought, she tossed everything into her space and headed straight for the kitchen.

It was a time when food was tightly rationed, and everyone was desperate to squirrel away what they could.

Moments later, she strolled out of the kitchen looking mighty pleased.

Inside, not a crumb nor a spoon remained. Even the spice jars and cooking pots had vanished.

Just then, she caught the sound of someone tiptoeing outside.

Beverly raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was quick,” she thought.

She darted into Brandon Pierce’s bedroom.

Not long after, a man peeked nervously into the house.

Alicia had intentionally left the door unlocked, probably hoping to catch someone red-handed, and this guy took the bait.

He crept to the doorway of Brandon's room, noticing how quiet it was inside. Brow furrowed, he called out, "Brandon, you home? I saw your door open and thought I'd better check in."

Silence answered him.

He got anxious and pushed the door open. "Hey Brandon, I’m coming in, alright?"

Spotting someone on the bed, he walked over quickly, clearly excited.

Before he could take another step, something slammed into the back of his neck. Lights out.

Beverly looked down at the man sprawled on the floor and let out a cold snort.

She wasn't the strongest fighter back in the apocalypse, but dealing with two soft types like them? Easy stuff.

She took a closer look at the guy—delicate features, neat appearance, and a small red mole behind his right ear.

No doubt about it. That was Ethan Reynolds, the scumbag lead from the book. Dead on match.