Her eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the blinding white light above.
Before she could process anything, a shrill voice snapped through the air:
"This bitch woke up—finally! Hurry up and get her to Room 1546!"
Emilia's brows furrowed in confusion. Her vision was still blurry, but she could feel it—her body was being dragged across the floor by two women in cheap, glittery dresses and too much perfume.
She groaned softly, her limbs weak, her head pounding.
"Move faster! President John doesn't like waiting!"
That name—President John—echoed in her mind like a warning bell. Her heart clenched. Wait… John?
The voice came again, this time closer, nastier.
"You better clean up fast, or he'll make you regret wasting his time!"
Her gaze sharpened slightly, and through the haze, she caught a glimpse of the woman dragging her by the arm.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Isn't that… Sophia's friend?
The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity.
Why is she here? Why is she dragging me?
And then it hit her.
The musty hallway. The gaudy lights. The cheap hotel uniform someone had thrown over her. Her body—it felt different. Smaller. Younger.
Her chest tightened as the fragments pieced themselves together.
She had been in a car crash.
She had died.
Emilia's eyes moved slowly, her vision adjusting as she was dragged down the dimly lit hallway. Her body felt heavy—sluggish—like it didn't belong to her. Every muscle ached, and her head throbbed dully.
But then… she saw it.
The peeling wallpaper.
The gaudy red carpet.
The old, flickering chandelier above.
Her heart skipped a beat.
This place… she thought, her breath catching in her throat. Isn't this… the same hotel?
Her gaze darted to the cracked golden nameplate on one of the doors: Room 1542.
No… No, this can't be—
A sharp voice brought her back.
"Ughh…" Emilia groaned faintly, trying to sit up.
Lucy, the girl beside her, noticed and leaned down, a wicked smirk curling her lips.
She whispered close to Emilia's ear, her breath hot and full of venom.
"Heh. You dared to take what belonged to Sophia. This is your punishment. Tonight, you'll be the bride of a greasy old man."
Emilia's eyes widened in horror.
Those words...The exact words she said that night—
Her blood ran cold.
No… this isn't a coincidence. This isn't a dream…
She was back.
Back to the moment before everything was ruined.
Lucy dragged Emilia to the door at the end of the hall—Room 1546—her heels clicking smugly against the floor.
Emilia's heartbeat thundered in her chest. As they stopped in front of the room, she tried to sit up, her arms pushing weakly against the wall. Her limbs still felt heavy, but adrenaline was beginning to cut through the fog.
She needed to run. Now.
But Lucy yanked her wrist, holding her in place with surprising strength.
"Now, now," she mocked with a sly grin, leaning down again. "You should be thankful. I'm giving you a husband. Not everyone gets this chance."
"Shut up and let me go," Emilia growled through clenched teeth, her voice low and laced with fury.
Just then, the door creaked open.
A man stepped out.
Obese, balding, and reeking of alcohol and expensive cologne. His shirt clung to his sweaty belly, and his lips curled into a lewd grin as his eyes landed on Emilia.
"Oh… very good," he said, licking his lips. "Young, fresh… You'll get the lead role in my next drama, Lucy. Hahaha!"
Lucy giggled, covering her mouth in feigned modesty.
"Thank you, President John. I'll make sure she pleases you."
Emilia stared at them, her hands clenched into fists, teeth grinding together.
Lucy stepped back, laughing cruelly.
"Alright then, I'll leave you two lovebirds to get acquainted. Have fun, President John!"
She gave Emilia a mocking wink before turning and sauntering down the hall, heels clicking with smug satisfaction.
President John waved lazily.
"Yeah, yeah. Go now."
As the door shut behind Lucy, the heavyset man turned toward Emilia, licking his lips as he approached, eyes gleaming with hunger.
"Now, sweetheart, don't be shy—"
Emilia's breath came fast, but her gaze was clear.
Calm down, she told herself, shifting her weight. Just like before. I beat him once… I'll do it again.
John stepped closer, reaching out his pudgy hand.
That's when Emilia struck.
With a sharp exhale, she swung her leg up and slammed her knee into his thigh, just above the knee joint—an old self-defense move.
"AGHHHHHH!"
John howled in pain, collapsing to the floor and clutching his leg.
"You little b—!"
Before he could finish, Emilia staggered back, grabbing a small vase from the side table and holding it defensively, her chest heaving.
"Touch me again, and I'll make sure you can't walk again," she spat, her voice shaking but fierce.
President John glared up at Emilia, eyes bloodshot with rage.
"You damn bitch—GUARDS! Where the hell are you?! CATCH HER!"
Emilia didn't wait.
Her legs still weak and unsteady, she turned and ran, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The hallway spun slightly as the drug coursed through her veins, but she pushed forward, teeth clenched.
Behind her, the thundering sound of footsteps echoed.
They were chasing her.
No—no! I won't let it end like last time!
She spotted the elevator ahead—almost there. With one final push, she slammed her hand on the button and stumbled inside just as the doors closed, heart pounding.
She slumped against the elevator wall, sweat clinging to her skin. Her body was burning, and her vision blurred at the edges.
Damn it… the drug's taking effect…
The elevator chimed.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
She took one shaky step, then another, forcing herself forward. Every movement felt like dragging a mountain—but she couldn't stop now.
As she walked down the hallway, her dazed eyes landed on a man entering a room at the far end.
Her heart stilled.
James.
No—wait. Did I end up on the same floor again?
Her breath caught in her throat. Her knees nearly buckled.
No, I can't… I won't go into his room again. Not this time. I made that mistake once.
She clenched her jaw, forcing her gaze away. Her mind screamed at her to run,