Even the members of the corpse retrieval team began whispering among themselves.

"Even for an expert, charging thirty thousand dollars is a bit much, don’t you think? Leizl is getting greedy.”

"Making money off the dead... how does she even sleep at night?”

"If it weren’t for her skills, no one would hire her at all.”

The team captain frowned slightly and said to me, “Miss Leizl, we agreed on the price beforehand. Asking for more now doesn’t seem right.”

I replied coldly, “Did I say I was raising the price?”

The captain was stunned.

At that moment, the elderly woman was already on her knees again, clutching my clothes desperately. “Expert, I’m willing to sell my house. Just name your price. Even if I have to borrow the money, I’ll get it to you.”

It was as if she feared I would walk away if she couldn’t pay enough.

I took a deep breath and gently helped her up. “I will help you,” I said softly, “but I need you to agree to one condition.”

Immediately, Darius chimed in beside me, “Leizl, they’ve just lost a loved one. Isn’t that tragic enough? Don’t make outrageous demands right now.”

I shot him a cold glance. “Shut up.”

Darius froze, staring at me in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with you today, Leizl?” he asked, clearly shaken. “Why are you talking to me like this?”

I ignored him and pulled the old woman aside to speak with her privately.

A few minutes later, she gave me a conflicted but determined nod.

I left her and walked toward the river, gazing at the churning waters, lost in thought.

In my previous life, just as I had finished calculating the results, my stepsister rushed in, claiming she could speak to the dead. She said the victim’s soul had guided her to the location of the body.

It was nonsense—every word of it. I didn’t believe a single thing.

But what stood out was that when she described the location, she used several technical hydrology terms—terms I used frequently.

My stepsister had no background in hydrology. So where had she learned those terms?

That’s when it hit me.

She must have stolen my conclusion.

But how?

I knew the answer would be key. If I couldn’t figure out how she did it, she would ruin me again in this life—just like last time.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something—and the realization struck me like lightning.

Whenever I analyzed water flow patterns, I entered all my data into my laptop. With its help, I could accurately calculate the likely location of the body.

That laptop was always with me—sometimes at work, sometimes at home.

If my stepsister had installed spyware while I had the laptop at home, she could’ve easily monitored everything I did in real time.

The moment I finished my calculations, she could have dashed in and announced them first, pretending they were hers.

Realizing this, I immediately shut down the laptop, picked up a pen and paper, and began calculating manually.

Darius, watching from the side, looked annoyed. “Leizl, everyone is waiting for you. Why are you doing this by hand? You’re just wasting time.”

I glanced at him and asked sharply, “Darius, are you trying to disrupt my work on purpose?”

He looked genuinely hurt. “Why are you being so harsh to me today?”

I didn’t answer, and continued with my calculations.

After all, a computer was just a tool—so was pen and paper.

For a true hydrology expert, what a computer could calculate, I could derive by hand.

Half an hour later, I had precisely located where the body should be.

I let out a sigh of relief, raised the sheet of paper, and began walking toward the victim’s family.

But before I could speak, a panting voice shouted from the distance, "The victim is located three kilometers downstream. He's tangled in aquatic plants and drifting at approximately two meters per second!”

I was stunned.

It was my stepsister—Lesley.

Just like in my previous life, she confidently announced the very same conclusion I had just finished calculating.

Facing the astonished crowd, she declared, “I can communicate with the dead. I heard the victim’s spirit calling to me earlier. Hurry—go now!”

Then she turned to me and dramatically fell to her knees, sobbing.

“Sis, I just couldn’t stand by and watch you delay things on purpose—extorting money from the victim’s family.”

“I swear, I’ll never sabotage your work again. Please don’t hit me this time, okay?”

I clutched the piece of paper in my hand, frozen in shock and disbelief.

Why?

Why was she still able to steal my results?

The crowd was already in an uproar.

Some bystanders even picked up clumps of mud and threw them at me.

“Tch. What expert?! Feeding off the dead like a leech—how disgusting!”

“What agency does she work for? I’m going to report her!”

Just then, Darius stepped in front of me, trying to calm the furious mob.

“Everyone, please. Let’s not jump to conclusions. What Lesley said might not be true. I believe Leizl is innocent.”

But before he could finish, the voice of a team member crackled through the walkie-talkie—excited and breathless.

“Captain! We found him! Exactly three kilometers downstream—just like the girl who said she could talk to spirits described!”

That sealed it.

To the onlookers, this was undeniable proof: Lesley could communicate with the dead.

Cheers erupted around her as she was lifted to the center of the crowd like a hero.

The captain, eyes brimming with tears, bowed repeatedly to her. “Thank you, thank you!”

The elderly woman even dropped to her knees and knocked her head against the ground in gratitude.

Only Darius turned to face me, disappointment darkening his expression.

“Leizl... were you really trying to extort money from a grieving family?”

Before I could even deny it, he continued sharply, “I get it now. No wonder you didn’t use your laptop and insisted on calculating by hand.”

“You were trying to stall for time—drag things out just long enough for the family to get desperate and agree to your price hike. Weren’t you?”

His words were like fuel to a wildfire.

The crowd, now fully convinced, clenched their fists in rage.

To them, if Lesley’s powers were real, then my crime must also be real.

They surged forward, pushing Darius aside with ease and surrounding me completely.

They wanted to beat the “soulless expert” who dared to profit off death—to release their fury on me.

The retrieval team did nothing to stop them.

The captain even shook his head at me with disgust. “Miss Leizl, I never thought you’d be this kind of person. I really misjudged you. Tch!”

Just as the first hand was raised to strike me, a police siren wailed in the distance.

The police had arrived.

Luckily, I had quietly called them the moment Lesley appeared. I knew how things would spiral.

Thank heavens they came in time—before the crowd could lay a hand on me.

I fled into the police car, disheveled and humiliated.

The crowd backed off slightly, restrained by the presence of law enforcement.

But then, just as I thought it was over, Darius pointed at me and shouted for everyone to hear.

“Leizl, I can’t believe you’d do something like this—deliberately delaying the rescue just to extort money!”

“Are you even human? You’re not worthy of being my girlfriend. I’m breaking up with you.”

“If you have any conscience left, you’ll get out of that car right now and apologize to the victim’s family!”

“If you just walk away like this, I won’t forgive you!”

His voice reignited the crowd’s fury.

They surrounded the police vehicle again, pounding on the windows, shouting for me to get out and kneel—to beg forgiveness from the grieving family.

Even the officers who rescued me, though they followed protocol and kept me safe, couldn’t hide the scorn in their eyes.

I stayed in the car, expression blank, heart cold.

I said nothing.

I only asked the police to get me out of there—as far away as possible.

After leaving the scene, I didn’t go home, nor did I return to work. Instead, I checked into the nearest hotel.

By then, the incident had completely blown up online.

Lesley was being hailed as a psychic with divine gifts—a beautiful, kind-hearted angel.

Praises flooded on every platform. Even several international brands had reached out, offering her ambassador deals.

As for me—I was being torn to shreds.

My father had already posted a public statement across every social media platform, formally disowning me.

Just like last time.

And then—the moment that truly crushed me came.

A group of internet users had found my mother’s gravesite.

They were now openly discussing their plans to dig up her ashes.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

I logged into my social media account and uploaded an audio recording I’d been holding onto.

Thankfully, in this life, I had prepared some evidence.

The recording was of my private conversation with the elderly woman by the river.

The condition I’d asked of her was for her to take back the thirty thousand dollars in fees.

I offered to help locate the body for free, making it clear that I couldn’t guarantee success.

With that, the accusation that I had extorted money in exchange for retrieving a corpse—collapsed entirely.

I thought, with the truth out, the public would finally calm down.

But I underestimated them.

Instead of justice, a new wave of mockery and hatred erupted.

“This recording is fake for sure. You expect us to believe a money-grubbing fraud like her would work for free?”

“Who knows when that audio was recorded? For all we know, Leizl staged the whole thing—found some random old lady to play aalong with.”

Even some of the corpse retrieval team members started livestreaming, fueling the flames.

One said bluntly, “Leizl always took payment. Suddenly doing it for free? I don’t buy it. Sounds shady as hell.”

The situation spiraled completely out of control.

That night, risking everything, I snuck to the cemetery and retrieved my mother’s ashes with my own hands.

By dawn, I sent an email to my workplace requesting a long leave of absence.

Then I headed south—back to my mother’s hometown—carrying her urn close to my chest.

My mother was from the south, raised in a scholarly family.

For love, she had left everything behind and followed my father to the north.

After her passing, my grandmother wanted to bring her home to be buried. But my mother left a will: she wanted to be buried in the city where my father lived.

Even in death, she wished to stay close to him.

But less than a month after her funeral, my father married Ophelia, who was already pregnant.

Soon after, Lesley was born.

If I count the days—Ophelia must have already been carrying that child while my mother was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

The night my mother died, she had refused to close her eyes, waiting for one last glimpse of my father.

But he never came.

He must’ve been with Ophelia that night.

Now that I’m grown up—and cast out by the very man she loved—I’ve decided to bring her home.

If my mother’s spirit was watching me now, I know she would understand. She would support me.

On the road back, I posted a statement online.

[From this day forward, I am officially withdrawing from the corpse retrieval team. I will no longer participate in any body recovery operations.]

Let Lesley keep copying me. Now that I’ve stepped away, let’s see what she’s really capable of.

If she truly has psychic powers, she’ll be fine. If not—she’ll be exposed, sooner or later.

Unsurprisingly, my announcement became trending news—and once again, I was targeted by relentless hate.

[Quit the team? What a joke. She was already fired!]

[How thick can someone’s skin get?]

[Anyone want to crowdfund a good slap across Leizl’s face?]

I only glanced at the comments before shutting it all off.

Because I finally arrived.

I had stepped onto my mother’s homeland—and standing there, waiting to greet me—was my grandmother.