They call me Elira now.
The name tastes like ash in my mouth — too soft, too helpless. A name made for someone who bowed and begged and broke under pressure.
But I am not her.
Not anymore.
I move through the shadows of this crumbling estate like a ghost. Every step reminds me how weak this body is. My ankles wobble. My breaths rattle. My stomach curls in on itself, empty for gods know how long.
The girl they put me in was already dying.
And now, she's me.
I drag myself from the cellar to a narrow hallway lined with rotting wood and mildew-covered stone. No servants. No guards. Just silence and decay.
A fallen noble family, the system said. Dishonored. Forgotten.
Just like me.
Fitting.
The first voice I hear is sharp as broken glass.
"There you are, you filthy rat!"
A slap cuts across my cheek before I even turn.
I stagger. My head spins. I land hard on my knees, palms scraping the stone. The pain is small, sharp, humiliating.
And familiar.
The woman above me snarls. Tight auburn curls, red-painted lips, eyes that drip poison. She reeks of wine and perfume and faded desperation.
[!] Emotional Pain Detected
[System Engaging…]
Skill Unlocked: Witch's Sight
→ You may now see the hidden sins of those who harm you.
My vision blurs — then sharpens, uncomfortably so. The woman's face twists, but behind it, I see shadows. Ghostly symbols crawl across her skin.
THIEF
LIAR
MURDERESS(infant, drowned, denied)
I blink.
The marks vanish.
But my disgust lingers.
"What?" she sneers. "Going to cry again, Elira? You'll never make a proper servant, let alone a proper daughter."
So this is Lady Sorelda Venelith.
Not Elira's mother. Her stepmother.
And now… mine.
She kicks a bucket toward me. "The floors need scrubbing. If they're not clean by nightfall, you won't eat. Again."
My lips curve.
Not in fear.
In amusement.
She doesn't see it. They never do. They never recognize a ghost wearing borrowed skin.
"I understand," I say softly.
She smirks, satisfied.
And turns her back on me.
I scrub the floors until my fingers blister.
Not because she told me to.
Because I needed time to think.
I need to understand this world. My enemies. My tools.
Pain has always been my cage. Now it is my key.
This system — this curse — it feeds on every cruelty I endure. Every insult sharpens me. Every wound becomes a sword.
They want to break me.
But the more they push, the faster I rise.
The system hums at the edge of my thoughts. A silent companion. Cold. Watching. Waiting.
[Pain Conversion: 2%]
Skill Boost: Strength +1
Mental Fortitude: +3
Next Unlock: "Veilpierce" — See through lies, illusions, false flattery.
I smile again, wider this time.
So that's how it works.
They give me pain… and I become impossible to control.
Night falls. My hands are raw. My knees tremble. But I wait for her.
When Sorelda finally enters the hall to check the floors, I'm already on my feet.
She looks down on me. Disgust curled in her lips.
But I look up at her with sight sharpened by suffering.
"I missed a spot," I say softly. "Shall I clean it… or shall I clean you next?"
She blinks.
Something in my tone makes her pause.
"What did you say—?"
I don't repeat it.
I just stare.
Long.
Hard.
And with the full force of the flames that killed me burning in my eyes.
She shivers.
She doesn't know why.
But she steps back.
And for the first time in this life, they start to fear me.