After I died, I lost a hundred million playing poker with the King of Hell.

I clung to his leg and cried all night, wailing so pitifully that he finally took pity on me and agreed to let me return to the mortal world during the All Souls Day—just long enough to find my best friend and ask for help paying off my debt.

My best friend, Amelia, happens to be the heroine of a tragic romance novel. And right now, she's standing on the rooftop, eyes closed, about to jump.

I panicked and shouted, "Amelia! If you dare jump, I swear I'll tell everyone about that time you were ghosted by your online boyfriend from that game! You cried so hard you took a 20-hour train ride to beg him to take you back—only to find out he was a primary school student! He didn't reply because his teacher confiscated his phone during class!"

——

Amelia's foot froze mid-air. She slowly stepped back, her eyes widened, voice trembling. "Sherry... is that you?"

Looking at her disheveled hair and swollen red eyes, my heart ached. But before I could say anything, my beloved best friend slapped her face.

Slap!

I was dumbfounded.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered in despair, "Amelia, you've finally gone insane. Sherry has been dead for six years. How could she possibly appear now..."

She took a deep breath, her voice hollow. "But it's fine, Sherry... I'll come see you soon."

And with that, she stepped back toward the edge again.

Desperate, I pulled out my trump card and shouted her old online username at the top of my lungs. "Midnight Swan In Silken Rain!"

She froze, shivering all over. "Even my hallucinations are digging up my black history now..."

I floated right in front of her and snorted. "Have you considered it's not a hallucination?"

She stared at me in horror and screamed, "G-Ghost!"

Then she stumbled backward and fell right on her butt.

I glanced down at myself and smiled lopsidedly. I guess I got a little too excited and forgot my neck had twisted 180 degrees.

I quickly turned it back and floated over to her. "Amelia, I've missed you so much!"

Amelia was still trembling but managed to choke out, "Sherry, I missed you too!"

We hugged and cried like drama queens.

After a while, between the sniffles, Amelia asked, "Sherry, you've been gone six years and never came to see me. Why now?"

I hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well... I kinda... owe a little money in the underworld."

Her eyes narrowed instantly. "I knew you wouldn't visit me for nothing. How much?"

"One hundred million. I've got ten days to pay it back." I smiled wryly.

Amelia waved her hand confidently. "No problem. Tomorrow I'll go buy some joss paper and burn it for you!"

My eyes lit up. "Wow, sis, you must've done pretty well these past six years!"

She crossed her arms and snorted. "I can't afford a real million, but you think I can't afford a million in the Bank of Heaven and Earth? Just wait—tomorrow I'll burn you ten billion! You can hire male models every day in the underworld!"

I fell silent.

She thought I was touched and patted my shoulder... except her hand went right through me.

She froze, then broke down sobbing again.

I knew she was remembering the day I died, so I quickly said, "Hey, don't cry yet. I've got bad news for you."

"What bad news?" she hiccuped.

"The exchange rate between the underworld's currency and dollar is one-to-one. Surprise!"

Her crying stopped instantly—she even hiccupped mid-breath. "Wait... how much did you say you owe?"

"A hundred million."

"...I think I'll just go die now," she deadpanned.

"No, don't!" I shouted, panicking. "If you die broke, you'll have to work 24/7 in the underworld with no breaks! It's worse than a 996 job!"

"The King of Hell said if I can't repay that hundred million, he's going to throw me into a cauldron of oil and fry me into a crispy, golden cheese-coated ghost ball!"

Amelia blinked. "...That actually sounds kind of delicious."

I threw myself on the floor and started wailing.

"Waaah, sis! You're the real daughter of the Wright family now, Mrs. Fletcher—wife of the capital's golden boy! Don't tell me you can't even afford a measly hundred million? What happened to 'don't forget me when you're rich and powerful,' huh?"

At the mention of her family, Amelia's expression faltered. She was silent for a long while before whispering, "But Sherry... I don't have any money."

"What about your shares in the Wright Corporation?"

"They're all in Fake Miss Wright's hands now—Janine took them."

I gave her a look of utter disappointment. "Then go and take back what's yours!"

"But..."

"No 'buts,' my dear bestie! We've got ten days before I get tossed into the fryer! Are you really okay watching me turn into a ghost tempura?"

Amelia looked torn, but she finally nodded. "Don't worry, Sherry. I'll get the money."

Before I could even respond, she went straight downstairs, hailed a taxi, and headed toward the Wright family villa. I floated along behind her, like a very determined helium balloon.

The moment we reached the gate, laughter and music spilled from inside. There was a full-blown party.

Amelia pressed her lips together and pushed open the door.

Instantly, silence ensued. The whole villa went dead quiet.

Especially Janine—she jumped up from her seat beside Madam Wright, her eyes instantly turned red.

"Sister, I thought you weren't coming home today! I only sat in your seat for a bit—I'll move right now!"

She hurried to the far end of the table, limping dramatically, looking pitiful as if she had been bullied.

I was furious. "Where did this pretentious little bitch come from? Her acting is poor, only fools will believe it!"

But of course, the Wrights loved this act.

Kenneth, Amelia's brother, slammed his cutlery down and dragged Janine back to her seat.

"Amelia! How many times do I have to say it? I only recognize Janine as my sister!"

Madam Wright sighed in perfect fake sympathy. "Amelia, it wasn't Janine's fault you two were switched at birth. You've bullied her for six years—isn't that enough?"

Amelia clenched her fists, face pale. "I didn't bully her. She—"

But Mr. Wright didn't even let her finish. He slammed his glass on the table. "This is a family dinner! If you can't behave, get out!"

I floated over beside him, glaring, and I spat in his glass in anger.

"Fine! Let's go, babe. We don't need this bunch of psychos anyway!"

But Amelia just shook her head softly.

I knew she was enduring this humiliation for my sake—to get money for me. My heart suddenly turned to mush.

She sat quietly in the corner. When the maid brought her cutlery, she just ate silently, pretending she didn't hear the others' disdain.

No one spoke.

After a few bites, Kenneth slammed his bowl down. "I lost my appetite. I'm done."

Mr. Wright followed suit, and Madam Wright immediately called the maid to clear the table, not caring that Amelia had barely eaten two bites.

She didn't complain, and just kept her head down. She was calm as if she'd long gotten used to it.

When everyone was about to leave, Amelia finally spoke up, her voice hesitant but steady.

"Mom, Dad... could you return some of the shares Janine took before?"

At that instant, Kenneth exploded. "Amelia, do you have no shame?"

He grabbed a plate of food and flung it at her. Sauce splattered down her hair, dripping over her face.

Unbothered, she wiped it off and said calmly, "Brother, I really need the money. It's urgent."

"Urgent for what? Planning to use it to hurt Janine again?"

Only then did I realize that Janine's limp had something to do with Amelia.

Back when the Wright family's patriarch was still alive—a man known for being fair and sharp—he had transferred Janine's shares to Amelia after she was proven to be the real daughter.

Of course, Grandpa Arthur hadn't treated Janine unfairly. He'd even set up a trust fund just for her—though the amount was nowhere near what the real Wright family heirs received.

Not long after arranging everything, Grandpa Arthur passed away due to illness.

On the day of his funeral, Janine didn't show up. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

At first, everyone just complained about how ungrateful and disrespectful she was. But as night fell and she still couldn't be reached, panic spread through the entire family.

They all split up to search for her, including Amelia.

By midnight, there was still no sign of Janine.

Then, just as everyone was losing hope, Madam Wright's phone rang. It was Janine.

The call lasted only a second—just enough for her to scream, "Help me!"

Soon after, the line went dead.

Using the phone's location, the family rushed to find her.

They arrived at a run-down house on the outskirts of the city. Janine was standing on the rooftop, trembling, like someone was forcing her toward the edge.

Just as the Wrights called out to her—she fell.

When they looked up in shock, they saw Amelia standing on the same rooftop.

Meanwhile, Janine, barely conscious, murmured weakly as she was carried away, "Sister... I'll never steal our family from you again... Please... don't hurt me..."

From that day on, Amelia's shares were transferred back to Janine, and she became the most hated person in the Wright household.

Now, back at the dinner table, Kenneth's accusations echoed in her ears. Amelia stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

She just watched, blankly, as one by one, her family members turned away and left the dining room.

Then, quietly, she walked to the farthest corner of the villa and sat on her bed in silence. Her fingers trembled slightly, the only sign that she hadn't gone completely numb.

I floated to stand before her, speaking firmly. "There's no way you did that to Janine. You're not that kind of person."

She lifted her head, tears spilling freely down her face. "Sherry... they don't believe me. Not a single one of them..."

"That day, I was out looking for Janine too. Then I got a text—an address saying she was there. I rushed over, but the moment she saw me, she smiled... and jumped."

"I swear, I didn't do anything."

I stayed beside her, quietly keeping her company until her sobs faded into shaky breaths.

Then she whispered, "Thank you, Sherry."

I waved her off. "Please, you didn't even dare skip class to get bubble tea with me back then—you think I'd believe you had the guts to push someone off a roof? Only that bunch of brainless walnuts in your family would believe such nonsense!"

Amelia actually laughed through her tears. "Don't worry, Sherry. I've got another plan. I'll definitely get you that money."

I thought she'd come up with some brilliant schemes, but I was wrong.

The next morning, she marched straight to Denver's company—with divorce papers in hand.

On the way there, she smiled shyly.

"Sherry, if I divorce Denver and split the marital assets, I can get enough money to pay off your debt!"

I was about to tell her not to sacrifice her happiness for me when she suddenly squared her shoulders and stormed into the building. But the moment we stepped inside, the receptionist stopped her.

"Good morning, Ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"

I couldn't help sneering, "Wow. You need an appointment to see your own husband?"

Amelia blushed slightly and whispered to the receptionist, "I'm Mr. Fletcher's wife. Could you please tell him I need to see him?"

The receptionist's expression turned icy and disdainful. "Madam, if you're going to pretend, at least try harder. Mr. Fletcher is currently dining with his wife in the lounge. If you don't leave, I'll have to call security."

Amelia's face went completely pale.

She turned to me, panic flickering in her eyes—and then suddenly dashed toward the elevator.

The receptionist immediately shouted, "Security! Security!"