I Cheered When My Mom Married a Rich Heir
My mother said I was a born beauty and was able to charm any man. She told me not to touch a man before my twentieth birthday.
In the previous timeline, I listened to her, so when a wealthy heir was dosed with an aphrodisiac, I pushed him away when he tried to take me into his embrace.
But the effects of the skincare routine I did transferred to my mother after my twentieth birthday. I used face masks, but my face became wrinkled and spotted. Meanwhile, my mother glowed with smooth and youthful skin.
I danced, but I only became fatter while my mother became slim.
Seeing how I looked like a fifty-year-old woman, my father called me a useless piece of trash and wanted to marry me off to a bald man as his second wife.
I cried and begged my mother for help.
But she said this was for my own good, her twenty-something face a mask of hypocrisy.
I was forced to run away from home, but doing so only sped up my aging.
Three days later, I died on the streets right by a trash heap.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in time to the night I met that rich heir.
This time, I did not push him away but straddled him in bed.