Chapter 3

The faster the dog drained my life force, the sooner the life-swapping ritual would be complete.

But I didn't show any sign of displeasure. I simply nodded. "Okay. I'll take good care of Teddy."

Satisfied, Mom and Dad returned to their bedroom.

The moment the door closed, the toy poodle suddenly stood up in his bed and bared his teeth at me. Then he lunged forward, snapping at my calf.

I sidestepped him, causing him to miss and crash onto my bed. But he instantly twisted around to attack again, barking madly.

I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the pillow. He thrashed violently, baring his teeth as he glared at me.

There was scrutiny and wariness in his eyes, but not a trace of guilt.

Of course, he wouldn't feel guilty.

Cochran had been spoiled rotten by my parents ever since he was a kid, so he had never thought that taking things from me was wrong. When he was little, it was my allowance. When he grew up, it was my college tuition. And now, he wanted to take my life.

He never felt he owed me anything, because as far as he and my parents were concerned, everything was supposed to belong to him in the first place. I was merely holding on to this life for him for the time being.

I didn't kill the dog, though. I simply pulled out the crate I had prepared in advance and tossed him inside.

It wasn't out of fear. It just wasn't time yet.

…

Later that night, when I got up to use the bathroom, I heard hushed voices coming from inside my parents' bedroom as I walked past it.

"Sir, how's the life-swapping ritual coming along? Can my son really wake up?"

It was Dad's voice.

I stopped right outside the door.

"Don't worry. As long as she stays right next to the dog housing your son's soul for 49 days, your son will wake up."

It was an unfamiliar voice—the shaman, no doubt.

Dad let out a breath of relief and thanked him repeatedly.

Mom hesitated before asking quietly, "Erika is our daughter, after all. Once this swap is done, does that mean she's…"

Dad immediately cut her off. "Is Cochran more important, or is she? Once a daughter gets married, she belongs to someone else's family. Only a son can carry on the family line! Our house, our bloodline, our family name—how else are they going to be passed down if not through our son?"

Mom fell silent.

After a long while, she finally said, "Okay."

I stood outside the door, my fingernails digging into my palms.

I had been a part of this family for 26 years.

When I was six years old, Cochran fell and scraped his knee. Mom held him in her arms and cried the whole afternoon, while Dad yelled at me for not watching my little brother and didn't let me eat for three days.

When I was 12, Cochran didn't do well on an exam. Dad claimed that I'd disturbed him while he was studying, and from then on, I wasn't allowed out of my room after 8:00 pm.

When I was 18, Cochran wanted to buy a phone that cost nearly two thousand dollars for school. Dad transferred the money to him without batting an eye. Meanwhile, my college tuition came from student loans, and I worked part-time to pay for my own living expenses.

I used to think they were simply playing favorites. I thought they just preferred sons over daughters. I assumed the worst-case scenario was that we'd eventually go our separate ways and live our own lives.

I never imagined they would actually ask for my life.

My heart went completely cold.

Just as I was about to turn away, I heard the shaman add one more thing.

"Oh, and there's one more thing you need to remember. Your son's life is directly tied to the dog's now. If the dog gets hurt, he gets hurt. If the dog dies, he dies. Under no circumstances can anything happen to the dog."

Dad hastily replied, "Understood, understood! We'll keep a close eye on the dog."

"If the dog gets hurt, he gets hurt? If the dog dies, he dies?" I murmured under my breath.

A sudden thought flashed through my mind—a thought that would make them regret all of this for the rest of their lives.