Chapter 1

There’s nothing more infuriating than being woken up by loud, obnoxious banging outside your door. It’s been months, but I’m still not used to being interrupted during sleep. I tried covering my ears with a pillow, but the pounding only got louder.

“Astra!” my aunt yelled from outside.

I had no choice but to get up. Still half-asleep, I opened the door that I was certain would break if she knocked one more time. Couldn’t she just wake me up nicely? Did she really have to beat down the door?

“Ouch!” I complained as Aunt Ophelia’s heavy hand landed on my head like solid iron. She was wearing her favorite red floral dress again.

“Good morning to you too, Auntie,” I greeted flatly.

“What time do you think it is? You think you’re some kind of princess, Astra?” she scolded and raised her hand again, but I dodged it just in time. I wanted to snap back—I’ve never felt like a princess in this house—but I held my tongue. “Make breakfast. Then go clean Eliyah’s room.”

“Wait... I have class too—”

“I said clean Eliyah’s room,” she cut me off, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t care if you’re late or don’t go at all. Why do you complain so much? Do you think living here is free?”

I winced at her barrage of words.

“Ma! Get me a towel!” Eliyah shouted from somewhere in the house.

“Move it,” Aunt Ophelia warned before turning away.

As soon as she left, I slammed the door shut and stretched my limbs. Then I began fixing my bed. My room wasn’t that big—just a single bed, a cabinet with my few clothes, and my favorite thing in the world: an old dresser I’ve had since I was a child. I cried just to stop Aunt Ophelia from selling it.

My life felt like a twisted fairy tale—my parents died, and I was forced to live with the wicked relative who treated me more like a servant than family. And of course, there was the bratty son, Eliyah, who was a grown man with a child’s mind. We never got along. But unlike fairy tale heroines, I’m no angel. I won’t let narrow-minded people walk all over me.

“Astralla!” Aunt Ophelia shouted again.

“What is it now, Ophelia?!” I shouted back sarcastically.

I chuckled as I made my way to the kitchen. Aunt Ophelia was sipping her first of what would probably be five cups of coffee for the day, busy as usual on her phone. She held it far from her face, tapping at it with a single finger. Oh, old people.

I tied my hair in a bun and wore my worn-out apron. This is how every day starts—aside from being rudely awakened—cooking breakfast. I grabbed the ingredients and got started. I may not have inherited my mom’s kind heart, but I definitely got her skills in the kitchen. As the food simmered on the stove, I glanced over at the sink.

I frowned. I was sure I had washed all the dishes before bed. I hate waking up to dirty dishes. Did I really forget last night?

“Where did you eat dinner?” Aunt asked from her seat.

“Huh?”

She slammed her phone down.

“Where you eat… rice… last night?” she asked in broken English, laughing lightly. “That’s English, right? Or do you still not get it?”

I grew more confused.

“I didn’t eat here?”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“I didn’t even know you came home. Didn’t I tell you? If you’re not home before eight, don’t bother coming back. I locked the door. So, how’d you get in? Do you have a secret entrance I don’t know about?”

My mouth opened, but I quickly shut it when I caught the scent of my cooking. I turned back to the stove and lowered the heat. Then I turned again—Aunt was back on her phone.

I leaned against the sink, troubled. That was weird... I couldn’t remember coming home last night. I only remembered waking up at dawn after dreaming I was stabbed. Reflexively, I touched my back. Nothing felt unusual.

“Ma!” We both turned toward Eliyah, who had suddenly appeared in a white polo and boxers, clearly panicked. “Look! She looks exactly like Astra!” He showed Aunt something on his phone.

I stepped closer to peek.

My eyes widened. It was a photo of me—or someone exactly like me—lying on the ground, covered in blood. My body turned cold. It couldn’t just be a look-alike; she was wearing my clothes.

Aunt and Eliyah stared at me.

Aunt gave a nervous laugh. “C-come on, Astra. We may not always get along, but please don’t haunt us.”

I was too stunned to speak. Could it be that what happened last night wasn’t a dream? But if that’s true... why am I still alive?

I jumped when Eliyah pinched my cheek. “She’s alive, Ma. I can touch her.”

I jerked my head away as he reached for me again.

“T-that’s not me!” I shook my head. “She’s dead. I’m still alive.”

“What do you mean?” Eliyah checked the photo again and looked back at me. “Wait... whose clothes are you wearing?” He tugged at my shirt.

My heart dropped. These weren’t mine. I knew every piece of clothing I owned, and this wasn’t one of them. It even looked new. I don’t have new clothes. Whose was this?

“There’s a price tag still on it,” Eliyah noted, laughing. “Did you steal it?”

“The food, Astra!” Aunt’s voice snapped me back. “You’re not a ghost—I can still hit you. And Eliyah, put on some pants so we can eat.”

“But if that’s not Astra—”

“I don’t care,” Aunt cut in. “Why are you so bothered, Eliyah? Astra’s here. Whoever that girl is, may she rest in peace.”

I was in a daze during breakfast. Eliyah went off to school, leaving me to wash the dishes and clean his room. We went to the same university, but we never commuted together—not that I wanted to babysit him anyway.

After finishing the chores, I went back upstairs. There were only two bedrooms on the second floor, but I was the only one who slept there. Eliyah was too much of a coward to sleep without his mom.

I went into my room to grab clothes and a towel. I turned to leave—but froze. Blood. There was a smear of blood on the window.

My mind went blank.

I shook my head and wiped it off, then shut the window. I went downstairs to shower, trying to push all the strange events from my mind. After bathing, I stepped out of the bathroom.

“Holy—!” I clutched my chest as Aunt Ophelia suddenly appeared in front of me.

“I thought you weren’t coming out,” she said, lightly shoving me aside. “When you leave, close the gate. Don’t let Tati out,” she added, referring to the dog.

Back in my room, I was stunned to see the window open again. I was sure I had locked it earlier. I tried to convince myself it was just the wind, but that window was old, rusty, and stiff—it wouldn’t budge without force.

“It was Aunt. She opened it,” I muttered to myself.

I sat in front of the mirror and combed my long, black hair. I had my mom’s lips and my dad’s height. My round eyes had shed only a few tears in life.

Suddenly, I felt feverish. Weak. Despite eating earlier, I felt my strength draining. I hadn’t been sick in a long time, but something was definitely wrong.

I forced a smile, noticing my lips had pouted unconsciously. Then I dropped the comb—my reflection was gone.

I shut my eyes tightly, praying I was just seeing things. When I opened them again, my reflection had returned.

“Wake up, Astra. This isn’t a fantasy dream—this is a nightmare,” I muttered.

I put on my uniform, grabbed my bag, and avoided the mirror. I made sure the window was locked this time. If I find it open again tonight, I’m sleeping downstairs with Eliyah. I’ve been here for months, but only now does it feel... different.

Dizzy, I gripped the stair railing.

“Astra?” Aunt was watching me from the living room. “You’re pale. Are you feeling sick? Maybe you should skip school and just clean instead.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. Staying here would only make things worse. I made it down the stairs, though my body felt even hotter, my throat dry. I went to the kitchen for a drink.

“Astra...” I dropped the glass when I heard a whisper.

Shards scattered on the floor. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I looked around. No one else was there. But that voice... it felt so close. Like it was inside my head?

“What happened? That’s coming out of your allowance!” Aunt scolded when she saw the mess. “What’s going on with you? You were fine earlier. You’ve been here for months—don’t tell me you’re still adjusting?”

I bent down to pick up the pieces, but she stopped me. “Forget it. I’ll handle it. Just go.”

Too drained to argue, I just nodded and left. I took a tricycle to Riverside University. I’m already a third-year HRM student. For all her harshness, Aunt still lets me study—for Mom, she says.

“Astra?!” I froze. Dahlia—my only friend—was staring at me in shock. “You’re alive?”

“If I was dead, why would I be in school?” I muttered.

She came closer and pinched my arm. “But… what about that girl on F******k?” She showed me her phone. “This is what you were wearing yesterday.”

I gasped. “I… I don’t know.”

All the strange events from earlier flooded my mind again. Was I being haunted? I didn’t believe in that—but what other explanation was there?

“You don’t look okay.” She touched my forehead, then quickly pulled her hand back. “You’re burning up! Are you even human?”

“You’re exaggerating,” I laughed nervously. But deep down, I feared she might be right.

The sun burned my skin more than usual. It was still morning, but I already felt like I was boiling. Maybe I should have worn sunscreen—my skin felt like it was blistering.

“Hey, girls!” A guy approached us.

“Oh, Kristan. Good thing you’re here,” Dahlia crossed her arms. “Tell Astra to go home. She’s burning up but insists on attending class.”

Kristan looked at me. “Hey—”

“Hep!” I cut him off. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“What if you die? What’s the point of him trying to win you over for months?” Dahlia snapped.

All the noise was unbearable—every voice seemed to echo in my head.

“Let’s go to the clinic?” Kristan offered, stepping closer. “If you won’t go home, at least take some meds.”

I nodded weakly.

He was about to touch my arm when his hand was flung away. Our eyes widened in shock. Students gasped as he stumbled back.

“What just happened?” he asked, rubbing his arm. “It felt like something pushed me.”

Something... That voice again.

The school bell rang.

“Thanks, Kristan. We need to go,” I told him, grabbing Dahlia and heading to class.

Inside, I noticed everyone staring. I didn’t need to ask why—they all thought I was dead.

“Astra!” a classmate said. “You’re the viral girl from F******k, right? The one who tried to help a woman being robbed and got stabbed? That was you, wasn’t it?”

More people crowded around. Their voices blurred together.

“You’re a hero, Astra!”

“How did you survive?”

Stop. Please.

“Move! Astra’s sick!” Dahlia yelled. Everything became blurry. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed anymore.

“Astra...” That voice again.

I grabbed my bag and bolted out. Down the stairs, pushing past students.

“Astra...”

I ran—not to the clinic, but the bathroom. Locked myself in a stall and sat on the toilet. Silence. But I didn’t feel better.

“Astra...”

“Stop!” I screamed. “Get out of my head!”

A chuckle echoed inside me. I nearly fainted.

It echoed inside my head, each word amplifying the dizziness wrapping around my senses.

“The more you endure it, the more you will suffer. Welcome to my world, Astralla Martin.”

The voice was haunting—velvety yet cold—and I was too weak to even comprehend what it meant.

I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t just an illness.

It felt like my entire body was withering… yearning for something I couldn’t give.

I pushed myself up and stumbled out of the cubicle, vision blurry, nearly blind as I reached for the sink to steady myself.

Then—something struck my head.

My knees gave out and the cold, hard floor met me as everything turned black.

In that darkness, flickers of memory began to flash like shards of light through the void.

That night...

I was walking home...

A woman was chasing after a thief.

I ran to help her.

I was stabbed—in the back.

Blood... so much blood.

And in that moment, I knew—no one could save me.

That’s when it hit me.

I didn’t survive. I really died that night.