Chapter 2

Since then, everyone in the neighborhood knew I was crazy. At such a young age, I sent my own father to the hospital and called the police to have our neighbor of over a decade arrested.

After that, no one dared to bother me again, and no one dared to approach me.

Even my bastard father didn't dare say a single bad word about my mother in front of me.

Chapter 7

But it seemed like I just had bad luck. Even after all that, I still ended up in these kinds of situations.

Maybe it was because of how I grew up, but I had always been a solitary person. I was fierce and strange, constantly giving off a vibe that kept everyone at a distance. I was never popular.

In middle school, I was the target of malicious jokes from the boys in my class.

Of course, I didn't tolerate it. During class, I flipped their desks over without a second thought.

In high school, someone spread rumors about me. When I found him, I didn't hold back. I shoved him to the ground and left deep scratches on his face.

I always handled things with a heavy hand, sharply and directly. Yet even then, I couldn't avoid such problems. Sometimes, I felt like my appearance was a curse.

I thought, "Though I knew being beautiful wasn't a crime, I was scared. Mom, I don't want to be coveted by people like Dad. I fear I'll fall into the same trap as you did and end up dying with regrets.

I'm sorry, Mom. I never cherished your last keepsake. I even traded it away.

But I believe you wouldn't blame me."

Chapter 8

After Joan and I swapped bodies, we both lived the lives we always dreamed of.

My face finally brought me some benefits.

She used my body to relentlessly pursue Shawn, the school's heartthrob, and I was sure she'd succeed soon. Meanwhile, thanks to her pearls, I earned a small fortune.

Her pearls, big, full, and beautifully colored, were highly sought after.

I sold just a few of them and made a lot of money.

With that money, I bought an LV bag, Gucci perfume, a Chanel necklace, a Bvlgari bracelet, and other luxury items.

I was a bit puzzled. With all these pearls, why didn't Joan sell them and use the money to get plastic surgery? Was it because her base wasn't good enough? But it turned out the designer clothes she wore were all real. I remembered Joan, the one who knew fake from real, had once told me they were all fake.

But none of that mattered because one thing was certain. Everything I wore now was real.

With her body, no matter how I dressed, it didn't look great but felt like wasting good things.

But I didn't care. After all, I bought these things for my own happiness.

Chapter 9

I walked through school in her body, and people would always give me sideways glances.

I could always hear chattering behind me, but I didn't care at all. I was as happy as I could be.

One day, as I was heading back to the dorm after class, a group of girls suddenly grabbed me and dragged me into an alley.

The leader was wearing thick black eyeshadow, her face full of piercings, and her hair dyed in rainbow colors. She looked fierce and very alternative. She grabbed my collar and glared down at me, threatening me with venom in her voice.

"Ugly bitch, stop harassing Shawn every damn day. You're not even worthy of licking his shoes. I've been annoyed by you for days!"

This was such a hassle. I sighed helplessly. Living in her body was not easy.

I looked up and met her gaze, unafraid, and said, "I told you. I've stopped bothering with him. Don't you see? He's nothing. Do you like him that much?"

The group was stunned by my response. They all stared wide-eyed at each other, not knowing what to say.

The leader wasn't happy with my cocky attitude. She scowled and snapped, "Stop pretending. Everyone knows you threw away your dignity just to chase after Shawn! And what makes you think you can look down on him? Who do you think you are…"

I really didn't feel like listening to her talk any longer. Before she could finish, I spat directly in her face.

She got splashed by my spit, opened her eyes, and her face turned red with anger. After cursing a few times, she raised her hand to hit me.

I casually swung my LV bag in front of her, threatening her nonchalantly, "Go ahead and hit me. If you break it, don't worry about the cost. This bag's worth just a few hundred thousand dollars."

They were taken aback and questioned, "Someone like you can afford such an expensive bag?"

I answered arrogantly and smugly, "Just because I'm not pretty doesn't mean I don't have money. Everything I'm wearing and carrying, you'll never be able to afford in your whole life."