Reborn: She Took the Gun, I Took the Brush

"Go. The coast is bound to be easier than the front lines."

Father slumped in his chair, waving me off with a careless hand.

A flicker of disappointment passed through his eyes.

Then he looked at Sophia, a smile forcing its way onto his face.

"Good girl."

"Choosing the most dangerous place on your own. You remind me of myself back then."

A smug look rose on Sophia's face. Then she leaned in close to my ear and said coldly,

"Catherine, you don't actually think marrying into that family is living the good life, do you?"

"Their young master, Kevin, has a nasty temper. Ruthless. Who knows, one day he might just kill you."

"Beg me now. When I'm Donna, maybe I'll consider coming to save you."

I smiled. Said nothing. Turned and walked out the door.

Cold wind brushed past. Memories drifted up with it.

Sophia and I had been at each other's throats since we were children.

She was the treasure in Father's heart. Whatever she wanted, she got.

Me? Because I was the eldest, Father always held me to impossibly strict standards.

My sketch paper was torn up by Sophia on a whim. My paints poured down the drain.

Father would see it and only frown and scold me.

"A big sister should have some grace. Don't make a fuss over this junk with your sister!"

Two choices. Die on the front lines, or marry into the coast.

Sophia, wanting comfort, threw herself into Father's arms right there, crying and whining, and snatched the seaside slot for herself.

Before we left, she was smug, just like now. Celebrating that she'd get to live in luxury while I went off to be cannon fodder.

To survive, I had to put down my paintbrush and cut a bloody path through the gunfire.

I took back every inch of lost territory for the family, won the elders' unanimous approval, and became the next Donna.

Sophia, who only wanted an easy life, withered in that arms dynasty's cold neglect and exclusion. Died of depression.

To the end, she believed the marriage alliance had destroyed her.

She naively thought that if she'd just gone to the front lines, the prestige and power would've fallen into her lap.

The years I spent as Donna, I wasn't happy.

Facing schemes from every faction inside and outside the family, I lived in constant fear, worn down past my limit.

In the end, I fell in a carefully orchestrated assassination. Shot dead. My life cut short.

If Sophia schemed this hard to steal that "credit," fine. Let her have it.

This life, I just want to stay far away from the family's power struggles and chase my dream of art.

The day we left, Sophia was surrounded by the lieutenant and servants, seated in a high-end SUV.

The coastal dynasty, on the other hand, didn't send anyone important to pick me up.

Outside the massive estate gates, there was just one beat-up little car. An elderly servant got out and waved me over lazily.

Sophia rolled down her window, her eyes full of triumph.

"Catherine, you're not even married yet, and you've already been thrown away."

Laughter from her men rippled around her.

I let out a cold laugh. Said nothing.

I pulled my coat tighter and got into the little car without looking back.

The front lines were nothing like the estate. Even with my combat skills, I nearly died more than once.

Sophia, pampered since birth, would probably be crying within days of getting there.

And that dynasty's young master, Kevin, was strange-tempered, yes. But he'd never directly harmed Sophia.

So I'd already thought this marriage through.

As long as I kept my head down and behaved, surviving wouldn't be hard.

After six hours of bumpy roads, I finally reached the estate.

Kevin didn't show. Instead, a steward with a face of stone met me.

He took my luggage and led me to a side room at the end of the hall.

It was a room meant for servants. Dust covered the walls.

Inside, a wooden bed and a table missing a corner. Completely out of place in the grand estate.

A few servants came by, poking their heads in from the doorway, like they were waiting for a show.

They wanted to watch the mafia heir break down and scream.

If I threw a fit, they'd use "not knowing your place" as an excuse to humiliate me.

Little did they know. Compared to the last life I spent dodging artillery and mud every day, this place was heaven.

I said nothing. I just quietly set down my luggage and lay on the cold wooden bed.

Under the servants' disappointed stares, I slept for a little while.

The welcome dinner started soon after. Kevin still didn't show.

Several elders of the arms dynasty sat at the head of the table, looking down on everything.

One of them glanced at me, disdain in his eyes.

"Miss Catherine. Let me make one thing clear."

"Your family is nothing in front of ours. If your grandfather hadn't helped us once, you wouldn't even qualify to meet us."

"Now that you're here, don't think of yourself as the lady of the house. To earn our recognition, you start from the bottom. As a servant."

Laughter rippled around the table.

Before I could speak, a servant walked over with a tea tray.

When I reached out, he deliberately tipped the tray forward.

A full cup of scalding tea poured over my pants and the back of my hand.

"Oh, so sorry."

The servant looked at me, his tone pure provocation.

Laughter erupted again.

I gritted my teeth, enduring the sting on my hand. I didn't react.

In my last life, Sophia went head-to-head with them. It only brought fiercer attacks.

This time, I couldn't repeat that mistake.

"It's fine. I'll handle it myself."

I said quietly.

Just then, the doors to the hall were thrown open.

Kevin walked in.

His face was dark. His eyes swept the room and finally locked on my red, swollen hand.

Irritably, he tugged at his tie and said coldly,

"A marriage alliance. Is that worth throwing a banquet over?"

"Everyone. Out."

Then he walked on without looking back. He didn't glance at me again.

The elders shook their heads, a trace of disappointment in their eyes.

I went to get some medicine and treated the wound simply.

Then, exhausted, I walked back to my room.

Late that night, a knock came at the door.

I opened it. The steward stood outside, a tray in his hands.

He passed me a few tubes of ointment, his tone cold.

"The young master actually noticed your injury. He had me bring these."

I looked at the ointment in my hand, a little confused.

In my last life, according to Sophia, Kevin was cold-blooded and brutal. He'd never given her a shred of kindness.

So why was he reaching out to me now?

But I was too tired. No strength to think about it.

I shut the door, smeared the ointment carelessly on the wound, and sank into a deep sleep.