Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister.

The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute.

Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented. "If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—Eric's first love. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind.

However, when Charlotte truly died, the cold and aloof Eric, who had always appeared so composed in front of others, lost his mind...

Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister. The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute.

Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented, though his words were as cold as the winter wind.

"If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—the woman Eric revered as his untouchable ideal. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind.

...

It was 1 a.m., and Charlotte sat in the living room, waiting. She had been waiting for five hours.

Yesterday was her birthday. It was also the seventh anniversary of her marriage to Eric.

Her neck ached as she rubbed at the tension. Rising from her seat, she picked up the lavish meal she had painstakingly prepared—nine dishes and a soup—and dumped it into the trash.

The clatter of porcelain and the splatter of broth left the kitchen in disarray, yet she stood frozen, dazed by the scene.

Nine years ago, she had entered Eric's life under the system's orders, masquerading as a mute to capture the heart of this man who seemed to have everything. The world mocked her for her obsessive love, calling her a fool chasing after the unattainable.

But she had done what was asked of her.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented, though his words were as cold as the winter wind.

"If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—the woman Eric revered as his untouchable ideal. She molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

To him, she was no more than a housekeeper.

Yet Charlotte didn't mind. She had no intention of staying beyond the nine years the system required. This wasn't love—it was duty.

Even marriage, in all its humiliating pretense, was a box she ticked off for the sake of her mission.

Eric, of course, knew nothing.

At 1:30 a.m., Eric pushed open the door, his expression darkening as his eyes swept across the cold, empty living room. A wave of quiet anger rose within him.

No matter how late he came home in the past, Charlotte had always waited for him. Tonight was the first exception.

His irritation found release as he slammed an untouched plate onto the table, the sharp clang reverberating in the stillness. Tugging off his tie, he stormed into the bedroom and yanked Charlotte out of her sleep.

"Charlotte, today is our wedding anniversary. How dare you go to sleep without waiting for me?"

Groggy and disoriented, she moved her hands, signing an explanation.

Eric's impatience only deepened. "Stop waving your hands. I can't understand a word you're saying. Go run my bath. Now."

The force of his grip suddenly loosened, and Charlotte, unprepared, stumbled backward. She fell onto the ground.

A sharp pain seared through her elbows and knees. She couldn't suppress a low, guttural whimper, the sound breaking through her tightly held silence.

Eric's frown deepened, his voice colder now. "What are you just standing there for? If you don't want to do this, there are plenty of others who will. Don't forget—it was you who begged to stay by my side in the first place."

The physical pain brought tears to the corners of her eyes. She bit down on her frustration, swallowing her emotions as she rose and headed for the bathroom. Just as she reached for the faucet, Eric grabbed her arm again, pulling her back.

"Forget it. Don't bother with the bath. Stay with me tonight," he said, leaning closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

Charlotte's gaze flicked to the faint lipstick mark on his chest. Her heart paused for a beat before returning to its steady rhythm. Calmly, she signed, "I'm on my period."

His expression shifted to one of disgust, and he let her go. Disappointed, he muttered under his breath before retreating to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Moments later, the sound of his laughter echoed through the walls.

"Emily, how about I take you for private dining tomorrow? You've gotten so thin since returning to the country. Oh, and I brought back that bracelet you loved at the auction…"

His voice grew louder as he hummed a tune, carefree and unabashed.

Charlotte's face remained expressionless. She knelt on the floor, carefully tending to her wounds with slow, deliberate movements. From her pocket, she pulled out an old watch, its back concealing a faded photograph of her and her sister—a moment frozen in time, from what felt like another life.

It was her happiest memory.

Her voice silent as ever, she murmured in her mind, 'System, how much longer until the companionship task ends?'

A mechanical voice replied, cold and distant. [Thirty days, three hours, and fifty-eight minutes remaining.]

For the first time in years, a ripple of emotion stirred within her deadened heart. Relief. She could almost taste it.

The vibration of her phone interrupted her thoughts. A video call. Brian Spencer's voice erupted from the other end, sharp and accusatory.

"Charlotte, what did you do to upset Emily this time? She posted about drinking late at night. Do you know how miserable you've made her? She had to flee the country to get married, and now she's divorced. You're a walking disaster!"

Startled, Charlotte shook her head rapidly, her hands moving to sign a response. "I didn't know. If you hadn't told me—"

"Enough! There's no point in asking you anything. You useless mute, just stay out of the way. Emily's back now, so why are you still holding on to the title of Mrs. Lorvis? Divorce Eric right now!"

After hanging up the call, Charlotte saw Eric leaning against the doorframe in a bathrobe, his expression unreadable but heavy with discontent.

"So, you want a divorce?" His voice carried a quiet menace. "Who's the man you've been eyeing?"

He moved closer, his large hand gripping her chin. The sudden force made her flinch, and she instinctively tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold, trapping her in an unrelenting embrace.

"But then again, I doubt you'd dare," he said, his voice a low drawl. "You weren't even afraid to die just to stay by my side. So, Charlotte, tell me—why do you like me?"

This time, it was Charlotte's turn to fall silent.

How could she possibly tell him the truth? That she didn't like him at all, that everything she did was for the sake of completing a mission?

She hesitated for a moment before typing four words on her phone: Love at first sight.

Eric chuckled. He didn't press further and turned away, leaving her alone.

The next morning, he was already gone when she woke up. She didn't bother to look for him. Instead, she pulled out her favorite journal and began drafting her plan for the final thirty days of her stay in this world.

The system's voice echoed in her mind.

[Host, as your task is nearing completion, your body will be programmed for a terminal illness to ensure a natural departure. Please prepare yourself for the pain.]

Charlotte closed the journal, her hands steady despite the words. She headed downstairs to have breakfast, only to bump into Brian storming in, his face flushed with anger.

"You've got some nerve, Charlotte! Hanging up on me last night? Tell me, what will it take for you to leave Eric?"

She raised her head, her gaze meeting the man who was, in this world, her biological brother. Bitterness swirled in her chest.

When she had first arrived in this world, she discovered her backstory—a misplaced heiress switched at birth. The girl who had taken her place, Emily, had lived the life of a beloved princess, basking in the unconditional affection of their family for years.

But her mission had demanded proximity to Eric, and it wasn't long before the Spencer family learned of her existence. A simple DNA test later, she was brought back into the family, though no one welcomed her except for her grandfather.

Not only was she forbidden from using the Spencer surname, but the family publicly announced her as an illegitimate child they had only recently acknowledged.

Emily, unable to accept the situation, had fled abroad in a fit of rage and hastily married.

Yet here she was again—back in the country for reasons unknown.

Charlotte didn't respond to Brian's question. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.

"If it weren't for you, do you think Emily would've married the wrong guy? Do you think she'd be back here, heartbroken?"

Weak and frail by nature, Charlotte lost her balance under his forceful shove. She stumbled, her body tumbling down the staircase until she lay sprawled on the landing, consciousness slipping away.

When she awoke, she was in a hospital room. Brian stood to one side, his expression defiant, while their parents sat nearby.

"Why should I kneel and apologize?" Brian's voice rose in protest. "It's not like I pushed her on purpose. She obviously did it to gain sympathy!"

"Enough!" Their father, Joe Spencer's voice cut through the room, sharp with irritation.

Their mom, Joyce Spencer opened her mouth as if to argue but ultimately swallowed her words, choosing instead to glare daggers at Charlotte.

"Brian is your brother, and you're not seriously hurt. Let's not make a fuss about this," Joe declared dismissively.

They all knew she couldn't speak, and as she frantically signed her protests with red-rimmed eyes, they acted as though they couldn't see her at all.

Charlotte glanced at her leg, now encased in a plaster cast. A dull ache spread through her chest, more emotional than physical.

In her previous life, she had been an orphan. She had always yearned for family. But the Spencer family had no place for her in their hearts. Especially Brian, who worshipped Emily and despised Charlotte for "taking everything" from her.

But who had taken from whom?

When the others left, Charlotte sat in silence, her thoughts adrift. Her time here was running out, and she needed to start letting go of everything in this world.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her reverie. Emily stepped inside.

Seven years had passed since they'd last seen each other. Emily's impulsive marriage had removed her from the Spencer family's plans, forcing them to push Charlotte into an arranged marriage with Eric to secure their alliance with the Lorvis family.

No one had cared about Charlotte's opinion. To them, a mute girl like her should have been grateful for such a "fortunate" match.

"Charlotte, what happened? I heard you fell down the stairs?" Emily's voice carried a saccharine concern as she sat heavily on Charlotte's injured leg.

Charlotte clenched her teeth, suppressing a cry of pain.

"Now that I'm divorced," Emily said, a smug smile curling her lips, "do you really think Eric would still look at you? Using my face to cozy up to him—don't you feel disgusted with yourself?" She tilted her head, her smile as radiant as sunshine piercing through a frozen landscape.

Charlotte clenched her teeth tightly, refusing to let a cry of pain escape her throat.

Emily suddenly slapped her own face.

"Charlotte, don't be angry. If you need to hit me to vent, go ahead. I'll even forgive you as long as you forgive Brian. He didn't mean it..." Emily's voice quivered, her eyes glistening with perfect tears that trailed down her cheeks, fragile and pitiable.

Before Charlotte could react, the door flew open with a loud crash. In strode Eric, his face a mask of icy fury. He scooped Emily into his arms, his gaze cold and piercing as it landed on Charlotte.

"You dared hit Emily?" His voice cut through the room like a whip. "Getting bold, are we, Charlotte? Apologize to Emily now—on your knees."

The realization of Emily's calculated ploy hit Charlotte like a wave. She reached for her phone, typing swiftly: I didn't hit her. It's not true.

Emily let out a delicate sob, burying her face into Eric's chest. "Eric, please don't be angry. I believe Charlotte didn't mean it. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have come back..." Her voice trailed off into heart-wrenching whimpers, further hardening Eric's already stone-cold expression.

Eric yanked Charlotte upright, ignoring her frailty. "You have until the count of three. Kneel, or you'll never set foot in the Lorvis family home again."

Pain shot through her body as she collapsed to the floor, every movement a fresh wave of agony. Yet she lowered her head and knelt, her pride crushed beneath the weight of his command.

Eric scoffed, his derision clear. "You should learn your place."

Emily sniffled, her tears now a steady flow. "Eric, I shouldn't have brought up the past. I only wanted to see Charlotte again. Maybe... I should've stayed abroad forever."

"Enough of that," Eric said, his voice softening as he tightened his hold on Emily. The scene was picture-perfect, a tableau of a man comforting his beloved.

Inside, Charlotte's mind churned. 'Only twenty-nine days left. Soon, this will all be over.'

The system broke its silence, its tone surprisingly gentle. [You don't have to endure this, Host. I can retrieve the security footage from the hospital.]

'No need,' she responded inwardly. 'Eric only believes what he sees, and what he sees isn't me. Just let it be. Twenty-nine days will be over soon.'

After three days of recovery, Charlotte was sent back to the Lorvis residence—not for her own comfort, but because Emily had a craving for her cooking.

As she maneuvered her wheelchair into the kitchen, she was greeted by Brian. "Still playing the good little housekeeper, huh? Don't you have any self-respect?"

Charlotte ignored him, steering her wheelchair away.

But Brian grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her backward. Her fragile body collapsed onto the floor, pain flaring in her still-healing leg.

"I'm your brother," Brian sneered. "Show some respect when you see me, you uncivilized brat." He laughed, his voice sharp and grating. "Do yourself a favor and leave while you still can. Or are you too shameless to realize everyone's laughing at you? A pathetic stray clinging to Eric like some desperate mutt."

Emily entered then, her delicate hands tugging lightly at Brian's sleeve. "Brian, don't be so harsh. Charlotte's just trying her best. After all, it's normal to have feelings for someone as wonderful as Eric."

Her tone was sweet, her words laced with feigned modesty. She glanced at Charlotte, her expression both kind and cruel.

"Oh, by the way, I'll be staying at the Lorvis residence for a while. Eric said it'd be more convenient this way since I haven't yet found a place to stay."

Charlotte nodded, gripping the arms of her wheelchair as she struggled back into the seat.

Eric arrived shortly after, his gaze lingering on Charlotte's impassive face. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken stirred within him.

"Emily will be staying here for some time," he announced. "She's particular about her meals, so you'll need to wake up at five every morning to prepare her breakfast."

"Eric, isn't that too much to ask of Charlotte? She's still recovering..." Emily's protest was gentle.

Eric dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Charlotte loves cooking. It's her honor to take care of you."

Charlotte smiled faintly and typed out a single line: It's no trouble at all.