H City, in an old basement of the rundown district, a girl covered in blood lay staring blankly at the ceiling, lifeless, like a corpse.

Suddenly, her chest heaved violently as she bolted upright.

She looked around at the tiny, damp room with peeling walls, a faint moldy stench, and clutter everywhere making it resemble a trash dump. Vivian Grant was stunned.

What’s going on?

Where is this place?

She was Vivian Grant—the ruler of the underworld.

Everything had spiraled out of control when one of her subordinates accidentally shattered the Ten Thousand Souls Lamp that kept malicious spirits at bay. With the seal breaking, the ghouls saw their chance to escape. Vivian had no choice but to weave the lamp using her own power, burning through her merit in the process. The cost was her strength; she lost consciousness.

And when she came to, she ended up here.

She touched her wrist—it was warm. Definitely the temperature of a living person’s body.

Out of nowhere, unfamiliar memories surged into her mind like a flood.

Vivian frowned slightly but quickly understood — she had soul-traveled.

The person she now inhabited was also named Vivian Grant, once the beloved daughter of the Grant family.

Up until she turned eighteen, her life had been nothing short of perfect—happy, carefree, surrounded by a loving family. Five years ago, the Grant family brought home a girl about the same age as Vivian Grant—a girl named Agatha Grant.

That was when Vivian learned she wasn’t their biological daughter, but Agatha was.

Once Agatha reclaimed her title as the real eldest daughter, she made a deal with Vivian: in exchange for paying Vivian’s biological mother’s medical bills, Vivian would act as her playmate. And so, Vivian stayed in the Grant family as the second daughter, allowed to visit her mother once every six months.

But that’s where the nightmare began for Vivian.

During college, Agatha teamed up with classmates to ostracize, bully, and publicly humiliate her. Vivian lived every day in torment, trapped in a living hell.

After graduating, Vivian was scouted by an agent and entered the entertainment industry, but Agatha sabotaged her behind the scenes—spreading rumors and smearing her reputation. Soon, Vivian became the target of relentless online harassment and was forced to quit, while Agatha rose to fame as a top-tier celebrity.

For five years, Vivian lived under their roof, enduring their disdainful glances.

Last week, she overheard a conversation between Agatha and a doctor. As it turned out, Agatha had cut off the payments for Vivian’s mother’s treatment, resulting in her mother passing away four months earlier.

Devastated, Vivian confronted Agatha. In the heat of their argument, Agatha intentionally fell down the stairs—right as Julie Grant stepped onto the scene. Julie Grant had always carried guilt over Agatha Grant being left outside for eighteen years. When Agatha fell down the stairs, Julie turned her anger on the original Vivian Grant and eventually kicked her out of the household.

The original Vivian left in utter defeat, retreating to the basement apartment her biological mother once lived in, shutting herself away from the world entirely.

An hour ago, a group of masked intruders burst into her home. They didn't bother talking, just started beating her with sticks and smashing up the place. When Vivian tried to stop them, she was shoved, hitting the back of her head on a glass surface. She bled out too much, and no one came to help. She died.

The intruders panicked, not wanting any part of a murder, and fled the scene.

Vivian's soul somehow escaped the underworld, drifting into the human realm—and into the body of the original Vivian.

"May you reunite with your mother in another life," Vivian murmured softly, chanting the Kṣitigarbha Sutra to usher the original soul forward.

During hard times, the only thing keeping the original Vivian going was the rare chance every six months to visit her biological mother. But when her mother passed, she lost any will to live—not even enough to call an ambulance during her final moments, when she still had enough strength to do so. She simply didn't want to keep going.

Even as she was dying, her thoughts were only about finally seeing her mother again, never holding on to resentment toward those who wronged her.

The original Vivian was kind, to a fault. Yet that kindness was never repaid—it was trampled on, exploited, and torn apart.Vivian Grant felt a surge of anger rising in her chest, furious at all the wrongs those people had done to her predecessor.

"Someday, everything they owe you will come back to bite them," her lips moved slightly as her icy gaze sharpened.

What happened in life, she couldn't change. But in death, she could make sure those debts were paid in full.

For now, though, she lacked the power to return to the Underworld, and she couldn’t abandon this body either. She had no choice but to live on as Vivian Grant.

She was alive now, and living souls couldn’t step into the corrupted grounds of the dead. Once trapped there, they’d lose themselves, unable to find the way back.

On top of that, her spiritual power was drained, no divine abilities at hand. As things stood, she was basically defenseless.

Thinking about it all made Vivian sigh, but she didn’t dwell on it. She quickly rearranged her thoughts.

"One step at a time," she murmured to herself, trying to keep it together. First, she’d tackle what’s right in front of her.

She stood up and carefully pulled out the glass shards lodged in her skin. A sharp pain instantly shot through her, making her body tense.

When she was the King of Hell, she’d never once felt warmth, had no tangible form, and certainly never knew what pain felt like.

This was the first time she truly understood what it meant to hurt, what it was like to experience such raw, physical sensations.Vivian Grant rummaged through the cabinet based on her memory and found a first aid kit. She treated the wound quickly, wrapped a layer of gauze around her head, then went to the bathroom. She washed her face carefully, avoiding the injuries that couldn’t touch water, wiped off the bloodstains on her skin with a damp towel, and changed into a cleaner outfit. She looked slightly more presentable now.

In the mirror, her reflection stared back—a gorgeous face. Refined features, lashes like silk fans, large dark eyes that practically shimmered, lips a delicate shade of rose. Though she was undeniably attractive, there was an unmistakable hint of malnourishment showing in her complexion. Even someone like Vivian, who had witnessed countless otherworldly beauties, was taken aback by this face. No wonder Agatha Grant felt so threatened by the original owner of this body.

If it hadn’t been for Agatha’s interference, the original Vivian could’ve easily made her mark. That face alone, even in a shallow "pretty face for hire" kind of role in showbiz, would’ve been enough to make her famous overnight.

“Vivian, two more days! If I don’t see rent by then, you're out!” The voice outside was harsh and filled with fury.

The iron door rattled violently, as though it would fly off its hinges from sheer force. The banging continued for a while, and with no response from inside, the landlord finally stormed off, muttering curses.

Back when original Vivian's mother first fell ill, she'd pushed herself to rent this miserable place, hoping her mom would have somewhere to recuperate once discharged. From that point five years ago onward, she took on the burden of paying the rent annually. Year after year.

This unit was part of an old complex. The basement was damp and musty, with no sunshine ever breaking through to its gloom. Anything stored here for long molded over, and most wouldn’t even consider renting it. So, when original Vivian suggested paying for an entire year in advance, the landlord jumped at the offer and swiftly produced a contract.Every year, as soon as the time was up, the landlord would immediately ask for rent from the original Vivian Grant and push her to renew the contract. Seeing how naive and gullible she was, they made it a habit to raise the rent year by year.

The rent for the basement had already been comparable to places that actually saw sunlight after the first hike. The subsequent increases? Straight-up highway robbery.

The contract expired yesterday, and the landlord had come by twice already to pester her but still got nowhere. Today, they must have seen someone leaving the room and figured she was home, so here they were again.

The original Vivian had wanted nothing more than to afford a decent place for her mother to stay. Yet, stuck with limited means and treated like a pushover by the Grant family, she couldn't even utter a single protest when Agatha Grant docked her wages. She scrimped and saved whatever little money she earned, handing it all over to the landlord in one lump sum. That had been her life for five years.

Her kindness made her an easy target—a person others could step on without hesitation.

But now? Kindness wasn’t part of who she was. She wasn’t the original Vivian Grant, and her heart wasn’t soft like that.

Her rules were simple: repay kindness, but settle grudges with interest.