Chapter 1 No Place to Call Home

When the System found me, I'd just gotten out of jail.

I'd spent two weeks locked up, and winter had arrived while I was inside. The bitter wind cut through my trench coat, so I pulled it around me tighter.

Hunching my shoulders against the cold, I quietly asked the System, "Are you sure? As long as this body dies, you'll be able to take me to another world?"

The System confirmed that it could.

I glanced at the nearby lake and started toward it when someone suddenly draped a coat over my shoulders.

I turned around, only to find myself face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see.

My older brother, Jake Morgan—the same brother who'd had me thrown in jail just two weeks ago.

All because a painting belonging to his precious adopted sister, Olivia Morgan, had been found torn to pieces in my room. It was supposed to be her entry for an art competition.

I'd tried everything to explain that I hadn't touched it. I'd practically screamed myself hoarse, but no matter what I said, nobody would listen.

Eventually, I stopped trying.

After all, what was the point? Everyone had already decided I was guilty. As long as Olivia shed a few tears, nothing I said would ever matter.

I could still picture Jake gently wiping away her tears before turning to me with a cold expression. "You need to learn your lesson."

Remembering that moment, I shrugged off the coat he'd just draped over my shoulders and let it fall straight into the dirt.

Jake's expression faltered before he turned grim.

In the past, I would've panicked at his anger, forced a nervous smile, and scrambled to make things right.

However, I wasn't that person anymore. I barely spared him a glance before looking away.

"Does Olivia know you're here?" I asked. "I'd hate for her to start crying again and somehow make it my fault."

I gave him a faint smile. "Last time she cried, you had me thrown in jail. Now that I've got an arrest on my record, I won't be able to graduate. So, tell me, Jake, what happens if she cries again? Are you going to kill me next?"

Jake bent down to pick up his coat, but my words made him freeze. For a long moment, he stayed that way, saying nothing.

We both knew what had really happened.

Olivia had torn up that painting herself and framed me for it. It wasn't even the first time she'd pulled something like this.

Over the years, she'd come up with one ridiculous scheme after another to make me look bad. Her lies were hardly convincing, but the people who lived in that house chose to believe her anyway.

After a long silence, Jake finally straightened up and brushed the dirt off his coat. This time, he didn't try to put it back on me.

"Come home with me," he said, keeping his eyes lowered. "Mom and Dad are waiting."

He paused, then added, "Mom bought you a strawberry cake."

As he reached for my hand, I immediately stepped back. "I don't eat strawberry cake, Jake."

His hand froze in midair.

"Did you forget what happened the last time I ate some of Olivia's strawberry cake? You all made me stand outside in the backyard the entire night."

I tilted my head and looked at him. "It was snowing that night, too. Remember?"

His fingers slowly curled into a fist. For a moment, something flickered across his face before he looked away.

I couldn't help but smile to myself. Of course he remembered.

I could still remember that night clearly.

I stood alone in the backyard, shivering so badly that I could barely feel my feet. At one point, I'd looked up and spotted Jake standing by his second-floor bedroom window.

He wore nothing but a thin sweater, safe and warm inside the house, while I stood outside, freezing.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, he just stared down at me.

Then, he closed the curtains.

Snowflakes had gathered on my eyelashes, melting and trickling down my frozen cheeks.

By then, my face was so numb that I couldn't even tell whether it was melted snow or my own tears.