Chapter 2

My phone suddenly buzzed, the screen flashing "Seraphina"—a name both jarring and nauseating.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the hatred bubbling inside, and answered the call, intentionally mimicking the timid voice I’d used in my previous life:

"Seraphina, what's up?"

"Anya, hurry up and get ready. We're going downtown this afternoon. I spotted a new designer brand store, and I want to take you to check it out."

Seraphina's voice was as gentle as ever, but I could hear the cold indifference hidden beneath.

In my past life, it was this exact shopping trip where I was bumped by a stranger, leading to a humiliation I’d never forget.

This time, how could I let history repeat itself?

"Okay, Seraphina, I'll be ready in a minute."

I hung up, a chilling smirk playing on my lips.

I opened my closet, not reaching for the light-colored dress Seraphina preferred, as I had done before.

Instead, I chose a black jacket, pairing it with a fitted camisole and long pants underneath.

I checked myself in the mirror, making sure the jacket zipper was pulled all the way up, covering every inch of exposed skin.

And I needed to prepare something 'special'—

A bottle of medical alcohol spray and a pack of disinfectant wipes.

Seraphina, you love cleanliness so much, don't you? Well, I'm going to 'help' you live by that standard... to its absolute extreme.

Everything prepared, I stepped out of my room.

Seraphina was already waiting in the living room.

She wore a white dress, her hair perfectly coiffed.

Her face was impeccably made up, looking clean and elegant, like a pristine white lily untouched by the world, yet I knew the poison that bloomed within.

Seeing my black jacket, Seraphina frowned, a hint of displeasure in her tone:

"Anya, why are you dressed like that? Black is so drab, and this style is too casual, not clean at all."

"Seraphina, I feel comfortable in this. Plus, this style is super trendy right now."

I smiled deliberately, a touch of rebellion in my voice.

Seraphina paused, seemingly surprised that I, who once always obeyed her, would talk back.

But she quickly composed herself, walking over to take my hand:

"Alright, let's go to the clothing store first. I'll pick out some nice things for you."

I abruptly stepped back, avoiding her hand.

At the same time, I quickly pulled out my alcohol spray, misting the arm she almost touched several times, then vigorously wiped it with a disinfectant wipe.

My actions were swift and frantic, my face contorted with exaggerated panic and disgust.

I raised my voice a few notches, ensuring Mrs. Jenkins, our housekeeper in the living room, could hear:

"Seraphina! Don't touch me!"

Seraphina's hand froze in mid-air, her smile instantly vanishing. She looked at me, bewildered:

"Anya, what's wrong with you?"

"Seraphina, when you were talking to the delivery guy just now, did you touch the package he handed you?"

I frowned, my tone serious.

"Delivery guys touch so many people every day; packages are crawling with germs, so dirty! You touched the package, so your hands must be covered in bacteria. Now you're trying to touch me? You'll make me dirty!"

Seraphina's face instantly paled.

What she cared about most was 'cleanliness,' and what she hated most was indirect contact with strangers.

I watched her expression stiffen, a cold sneer forming in my heart, and continued to provoke her:

"Seraphina, you need to disinfect your hands right away! Otherwise, the germs will spread! I already feel sticky on my arm, it's so gross!"

As I spoke, I picked up the alcohol spray again, spritzing it into the air several times, my face full of revulsion.

Mrs. Jenkins stood by, watching Seraphina with a strange look.

She seemed surprised that our usually meticulous elder miss would be 'unclean' enough to elicit such disgust from her younger sister.

Seraphina's cheeks flushed crimson then drained white. She stared intensely at my arm, then at her own hands.

Her eyes filled with a conflict of disgust and struggle.

She spun around, rushing into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of vigorous handwashing and the scent of disinfectant filled the air.

I gazed in the direction of the bathroom, a triumphant smile curving my lips.

Seraphina, this is just the beginning.

The rest of our shopping trip, I'll make sure you thoroughly 'enjoy' what it feels like to be treated as 'filthy.'

You wanted to humiliate me, didn't you?

This time, I'll make *you* the most eye-catching 'joke' on the entire street.