Chapter 1

I took deep breaths, filling my lungs with the fresh air.

As I stared at the tray in front of me, it hit me that I had been reborn.

Before I could even process the fading, suffocating despair of my past life, Mom waved a hand in front of my face. "Leia, what's wrong? Why'd you suddenly zone out?"

I snapped back to reality and stared at the food on my tray.

The scoop of steamed cabbage had pale stems mixed with tender yellow leaves, completely unseasoned. There was just a single, tiny dried chili sitting off to the very edge.

Next to it was sauteed chicken, a bowl of pasta, and a bowl of mushroom soup.

Nothing looked even remotely spicy. Yet, my heart hammered against my ribs.

They were just ordinary home-cooked dishes, light in color, with barely a speck of pepper.

Yet, in my past life, a single bite had been so excruciatingly spicy it nearly took my life.

What went wrong?

I tugged gently at Mom's sleeve. "Mom, there's chili in these. Can we go out for lunch today instead?"

Mom glanced down at my tray and frowned. "It's just one tiny dried chili pepper. It's probably just for flavor. It can't be that spicy, right?"

Dad chimed in from the side, "You're going to be studying here for the next four years. You've got to get used to the local food eventually. That's really not spicy."

His words triggered a violent flash of memories from my past life.

It was that single bite that had sent a wave of spice surging straight through my head. My tongue had felt like it was on fire, and tears and snot had poured down my face uncontrollably.

I had barely managed to soothe the pain.

I never imagined that a single bite of olive pasta could cause my throat to swell shut, leaving me unable to breathe until I suffocated to death.

Just the thought of that burning agony and the gasping for air as life slowly slipped away made my hands and feet tremble uncontrollably.

I couldn't make sense of it. These were completely normal dishes—ordinary pickled olives and plain pasta.

Why was it so impossibly spicy?

Was someone at school pulling a sick prank on me? Had they secretly dumped some insanely potent chili powder into my food?

I gripped my spoon tight, refusing to eat a single bite.

Seeing me like this, Mom and Dad shared a helpless sigh. "Alright, we won't force you. Let's get you something else."

While they weren't looking, I secretly scraped a bit of the food into a container to save for testing later.

We walked out of campus and wandered around until we spotted a build-your-own bowl place.

When someone ordered, the cook would throw their veggies and meats straight into a pot of plain water, boil them, and then toss them with seasonings.

My eyes lit up.

If I just asked her to skip all the seasonings—just a splash of oil and a pinch of salt over boiled greens—I'd be safe.

When it was my turn in line, I spoke up. "Excuse me, ma'am, could you just add a little oil and salt to mine? No other seasonings at all, please."

Dad and Mom nodded behind me in approval. "That works. Plain boiled veggies. No way that's going to be spicy. You don't have to worry now."

A few minutes later, Mom carried the bowl over to me.

It was just spinach, meatballs, and sliced pork. There wasn't a trace of chili in sight.

I had watched the cook the entire time. I knew for a fact there was no pepper involved.

After starving all morning, I looked down at the boiled food and felt a wave of relief wash over me.

I took a large portion of spinach and put it into my mouth.