The Little Zombie Who Longed for Death

Talia Silva’s face turned green.

She spent half an hour sitting by my bed, checking my breathing one moment and prying open my eyelids the next.

I was more than happy to cooperate.

I folded my hands over my chest, wore a peaceful expression and used the time to browse my reincarnation options.

I was not asking for wealth or status. I just wanted to be alive.

An hour later, my stomach growled. The tissue in Talia’s hand fell to the floor.

“Why aren’t you dead yet?”

Unfortunately, that was a question beyond my area of expertise. I sat up and rubbed my completely unresponsive stomach.

“Maybe the dose wasn’t strong enough.”

Her lips trembled.

Afraid of discouraging her enthusiasm for the job, I hurried to offer some encouragement.

“For your first poisoning attempt, you did pretty well. At least the flavor was spot-on.”

Talia looked as though she had seen a ghost.

Strictly speaking, even seeing a ghost might not have been half as shocking as seeing me.

She stumbled backward, knocking over a porcelain bowl. Footsteps quickly sounded outside the door.

The three brothers burst into the room.

James Silva, the eldest, immediately stepped in front of Talia to shield her. Our second brother, Byron Silva, glanced at the mess scattered across the floor.

“What happened this time?”

Talia’s eyes reddened on cue.

“I brought Bianca some tonic, but she accused me of taking over her room and told me to move out tonight.”

Now that was quick thinking, and more effective than rat poison too.

I genuinely thought she had chosen the wrong career. Murder was not for her. The entertainment industry needed her.

Harriet Silva, our third brother, had a dark expression on his face.

“Talia has lived in that room for eighteen years. Why should she give it up to you?”

I glanced at the bedroom behind me. This room had originally been prepared by the Silva family for their biological daughter.

Yesterday, our mother, Victoria Hayes, had personally handed me the key, saying the room had sat empty for eighteen years, waiting for its rightful owner to return.

Apparently, the ownership worked on a rotating schedule.

James instructed the butler to move my belongings to the storage room on the first floor.

“Talia’s been badly shaken. She can’t sleep alone tonight. Give her your room for now.”

I nodded without the slightest hesitation.

The storage room was secluded and had no security cameras. The windows were old and poorly maintained and the electrical outlets were leaking current.

Honestly, it sounded far more livable than this bedroom lined with safety padding on every wall.

Talia, however, still was not satisfied. She peeked out from behind the two brothers, letting only half her face show.

Her gaze settled on the luck charm hanging around my neck. It was the only thing I had been wearing when I crawled out of my grave.

It was also one of the pieces of evidence the Silva family had used to confirm my identity.

She stared at it for several seconds before asking in a soft, fragile voice, “Bianca, you won’t hold this against me, will you?”

I took her hand and shook my head with all the sincerity in my heart.

Of course not. In this entire sprawling Silva family, she was the only one who had given any serious thought to my posthumous arrangements.

Such kindness deserved to be repaid. At the very least, I owed her the honor of seeing me off at my funeral.