23 Sisters

In his bid for perpetual life, the first Don of the Bryant family annihilates the witch clan and violently takes possession of their most sacred relic. In the moments before her death, the head of the witch clan places a curse on every descendant of the Bryant family. Every descendant will suffer a sudden mutation at the age of 23, where their bodies would be covered in thick, black hair, and fangs would sprout from their mouths, turning them into monsters. They can only lift the curse if they marry a descendant of the witches. Ella Crawford—my sister—and I are the last remaining descendants of the witch clan in the human realm. In my past life, Oliver's lottery selection fell on the attractive Ella. I was aware that Ella lacked the power to lift the curse, so I secretly swapped the lots, and Oliver ended up married to me. In the end, during our wedding night, Ella set herself alight, proclaiming that she had lost her eternal love and didn't want to face life without him. As a result, Mom and Dad drove me out. Oliver, however, took me in and showered me with affection. It wasn't long before I conceived his child, and he successfully survived his 23rd birthday. Yet, barely a day later, Oliver pushed me into the fire pit. I pleaded with tears streaming down my face, "I freed you from the curse and am currently carrying your baby, Oliver, so please don't treat me like this!" Oliver merely responded with a malicious grin as he tossed the torch aside. "If it weren't for your interference, Ella would have lifted the curse for me! I would have been able to spend the rest of my life with her, Cynthia!" In the end, I was completely consumed by the flames. I suddenly open my eyes and find myself returning to the day Oliver chooses his bride by lot. I immediately snap the tampered lot, as I'm eager to find out how Ella will save Oliver without any witch powers in this life.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

After three years of gathering herbs, I finally returned to Green-Pouch Valley. But my master, Mr. Gu, was not there. On the ground, only a dark red pool of blood remained, soaking his cloth robes. My senior brothers and sisters, usually so lively, were nowhere to be found. My master's wife, Auntie Qin, sat collapsed beside the pool of blood. Her once-black hair was now mostly white, her voice a hoarse whisper as she called to me. "Shuang'er, your master traded his life for the valley's ascension. You must go to the Nine Heavens and offer your thanks." It was only then I understood. The Celestial Lord, Jun Che, in his quest to forge an immortal body for his mortal wife, had coveted my master's rare Celestial Bones of Healing. He used the promise of ascension for everyone in Green-Pouch Valley as bait, then brutally tore the bones from my master's living body. I was born with a strange affliction, a void where joy and sorrow should be. The others in the valley secretly called me a cold-blooded monster. Now, as I stared at the blood-soaked robes of the man who had saved me and treated me like his own daughter, my expression remained blank. "Auntie Qin, did Master do this willingly?" Auntie Qin's eyes instantly reddened. "Jun Che is the Celestial Lord. His word is heavenly law. How could we ever defy it?" I gave a faint nod. "If it was not what Master wanted, then Jun Che deserves to die." Auntie Qin's face went pale with fright. She lunged forward and clutched my arm. "Shuang'er, your master's last words were for you all to protect yourselves, not throw your lives away fighting an unwinnable war against the heavens." I pried her fingers off one by one and looked up at the glittering, golden Celestial Realm beyond the clouds. A faint smile touched my lips. "Auntie Qin, Master taught me that a healer's heart must be compassionate." "But he never taught me that gods can't be killed."