Chapter 7 – The Pact and the Sacrifice.

She didn’t know how it happened. The moment Amora opened her eyes, a scream tore from her throat. Shock rippled through her as her body felt… foreign. Her fingers traced over smooth skin, the curves of a body no longer burdened with excess weight. She—once mocked for being overweight—was now flawlessly slender.

“What… is this?” she whispered breathlessly, struggling to recall the last thing she remembered.

Then it hit her.

The fire.

She should have burned alive in that room. She should have died. If so, then where was she now? Was this another world?

Amora darted her gaze around, searching for her mother. But this room was unfamiliar—white, sterile, filled with the sharp scent of medicine. She was alone. Her breath caught when her hand brushed the bandages tightly wrapped around her face, as though she had undergone plastic surgery.

“Am I dreaming?” she muttered in confusion. No one was there to answer her—only silence.

Suddenly, the glass door swung open. A nurse stepped inside, startled to find Amora awake.

“Doctor! The patient is conscious!” she cried out in panic before rushing out again.

Within minutes, a doctor entered, followed closely by Jessica. Her mother’s face was pale, her eyes swollen from tears, yet relief bloomed in her expression when she saw her daughter awake.

“Amora…” Jessica rushed to her, gathering her into a trembling embrace. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Mommy…” Amora sobbed. “What happened to me? Why is my body… thin? Did you survive the fire?”

Jessica nodded quickly, brushing at her tears. “Yes, I survived, Amora. But that isn’t important right now. You need to prepare yourself. The doctor is about to remove the bandages from your face.” Her voice wavered, but her eyes shone with hope.

Amora’s confusion deepened. Her chest pounded, her hands trembled.

The doctor stepped forward, his hands deftly unwinding the layers of gauze that encased Amora’s face. With each strip removed, her unease grew. Jessica held her breath, her gaze unblinking.

At last, the final bandage fell away.

“Take a look at your face,” the doctor said, handing her a mirror.

Slowly, Amora opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. Her breath hitched. The face staring back—was not the one she knew. Beautiful, sculpted, smooth-skinned. Her hand rose to her cheek, almost in disbelief.

“Is this… really my face now?” Her voice trembled.

Jessica nodded, her tears spilling freely. “Yes, my daughter. You have been reborn.”

Amora stared again at the reflection. A slender body. A beautiful face. The kind every woman dreamed of. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though she had stepped into a new world.

But behind Amora’s newfound happiness lay a secret—one born of a pact and a sacrifice Jessica had made.

That day, when flames engulfed their home, the fire raged higher. Smoke choked the air, the heat seared skin. Jessica and Amora were trapped inside the bedroom, with almost no way out. By sheer luck, several neighbors managed to break down the door and pull Jessica to safety.

But Amora? She was left behind, her body consumed by fire until she lost consciousness.

The fire trucks arrived, dousing the flames with torrents of water. At last, the blaze was subdued, and from the wreckage, Amora was found. Her body was burned, her face charred and nearly unrecognizable. Yet, faintly—her heart still beat. She was rushed to the hospital, clinging to life by the thinnest thread.

That afternoon, Jessica sat at her daughter’s bedside. Tears streamed endlessly down her face. Seeing Amora’s broken body shattered her soul.

“If she wakes to see herself like this…” Jessica bit her lip hard. “She’ll suffer far worse. Everyone will mock her. No… I won’t let you live cursed like this, my daughter.”

Her hands clenched into fists. Her resolve hardened. Whatever it took, she had to save her daughter’s life.

Jessica rose, entrusting Amora briefly to the nurses, before leaving the hospital with a desperate plan. There was only one person who might help her.

That evening, Jessica returned. She demanded a transfer for Amora. Not here—not in this small-town hospital. Her daughter needed the best.

“We’re moving the patient to South Korea,” Jessica told the staff firmly.

The journey was long, filled with prayers and tears. Upon arrival, Jessica immediately sought out the most renowned team of plastic surgeons.

“Save my daughter,” she pleaded. “Make her slim, beautiful—like a model. I don’t care what it costs. Do whatever it takes.”

The doctors studied her intently, then gave their solemn nods.

What followed was a series of grueling, massive surgeries. Months of procedures. Every stitch, every incision, was a testament to Jessica’s sacrifice. She cared nothing for the pain Amora might endure later—only that, when her daughter opened her eyes again, she would never be mocked or shamed.

Now, in that pristine white room, Amora clutched the mirror tightly. Tears streamed down her cheeks—whether of joy or confusion, she could not tell.

“Mommy…” she whispered faintly. “Why do I feel like I’m no longer myself?”

Jessica gripped her daughter’s hand firmly. “Because from this day on, you have a new life. Forget the past, Amora. No more ridicule. No more suffering. You will walk through this world with your head held high—as a beautiful girl, worthy of love.”

Yet deep within her, Amora sensed something was wrong. This change was too perfect, too sudden.

“Mommy, tell me the truth. Where did you get the money to do all this to me?”

Jessica froze, her eyes locking onto her daughter’s. Her lips remained sealed. The silence hung heavy.

A mother could do anything for her child’s happiness—give even her life, if it meant saving hers.

The sudden trill of Jessica’s phone shattered the stillness. A man’s name flashed across the screen, and Jessica’s heart skipped a beat.