But if you truly loved someone, how could you ever look for a substitute?

The question lingered in Dorothy’s mind, but no answer came.

After a long, silent wait, Dorothy finally left the hospital, the weight of the day pressing down on her. It wasn’t until she was home that she remembered that she had forgotten the blueberry muffins for Portia. By then, the night had settled in and the snow was falling thick and fast.

The house was shrouded in darkness. Dorothy stepped inside her heart racing. As her eyes adjusted, she saw him, Kyrie, sitting motionless on the sofa.

A cigarette dangled from his lips, a haze of smoke swirling around him. Empty bottles of alcohol lay scattered at his feet, the remnants of a long, lonely evening.

When he heard her footsteps, his head snapped up, his eyes cutting through the gloom like a blade. "You finally decided to come back?"

Dorothy’s fingers curled tighter around the hem of her clothes. "My brother’s condition... it flared up. It’s serious. I couldn’t leave, so I..."

Her voice faltered, but before she could finish, Kyrie was on his feet, closing the distance between them in an instant.

With a grip like iron, he seized her neck, his fingers digging into her skin. "Didn’t I tell you something today? Did you not understand me?"

As his words left his lips, Kyrie pressed the burning cigarette onto Dorothy’s chest with brutal force.

Dorothy screamed, the searing pain shooting through her and tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. "Please, don’t!"

In a flash, Kyrie’s expression shifted, panic flooding his features. He quickly flicked the cigarette away, his face twisted with distress as he looked at her. "I’m sorry, Dorothy! I didn’t mean to…"

Dorothy’s eyes shot up to meet his, filled with pain and confusion. "Kyrie, you..."

But before she could finish, his eyes turned cold again, his gaze filled with rage. Bloodshot and burning, they locked onto hers. "Why did you come back? Give me back, Portia! Bring her back to me!"

Her body trembled, her lip trembling as blood leaked from it, a result of her desperate bite. "But this is my body!"

Kyrie’s fury erupted like a volcano. "I don’t care!"

In an instant, he shoved her out the door, his hands firm and cruel. "Go find the blueberry muffins now! If you can’t, don’t bother coming back!"

Dorothy struggled, her heart racing. "Wake up! They’re not the same person!"

"I don’t need you to remind me!" he snarled.

As panic gripped her, Dorothy caught a glimpse of Portia standing at the door, watching her with a cold, twisted smile. The door slammed shut before she could speak.

The snow kept falling, heavier now and Dorothy trembled in the biting cold. Tears mingled with snowflakes streaked down her face as an absurd thought suddenly flashed in her mind.

Portia had been the one to occupy her body for six long years, part of the manipulation. Could it be that Kyrie had only been a puppet in all this?

Her phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought. It was a message from Portia.

[If you don’t bring back the blueberry muffins, your brother will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow!]

With a growl of frustration, Dorothy gritted her teeth and plunged into the snow, determined to find the shop.

But when she arrived after what felt like an eternity, the shop was closed.

She pushed on, searching through the snow-laden streets, until, finally, she found a dim sum shop still open, a dim light glowing through the window.

She had just paid for the items, ready to head home when another message from Kyrie buzzed on her phone.

[Portia doesn’t want the blueberry muffins anymore. Go buy her shortbread cookies instead.]

Frustration gnawed at her as she searched for the new item, but the shop didn’t carry shortbread cookies. So Dorothy pushed on. By the time she found a store that sold them, Portia had changed her mind again.

Back and forth, like a pawn in their game, Dorothy was tossed around for what seemed like forever. By the time she made it home, it was late, her clothes drenched with snow, a mess of exhaustion and frustration.

She knocked for what felt like ages, but no one answered. Her call to Kyrie went unanswered and she hung up before it even rang twice.

Finally, the servant, unable to watch her torment any longer, spoke from the other side of the door. "Madam, the Master and Miss are already resting. Miss Sandoval says the cakes aren’t fresh and doesn’t want them. She wants you to throw them away."

At that moment, Dorothy nearly crumbled. Her hands shook, the cakes tumbling from her grip with a resounding thud.

"It's very cold outside. Could you let me in?"

The servant hesitated, the words caught in their throat. "Sorry, Madam, Miss Sandoval said you cannot enter. She also said you can’t leave before they wake up. Otherwise... your brother..."

"I understand."

Dorothy crouched down, her body curling instinctively as if to protect herself from the biting cold.

Evansville's winter had never been this cruel. Despite her thick clothing, the sub-zero temperatures seeped into her bones, turning her body to stone. Her hands shook relentlessly, unable to find warmth.

The wind sliced through her like a thousand tiny blades. Dorothy struggled to breathe, her throat tight as her tears froze into small, painful beads against her skin.

The door swung open just as the cold began to steal her consciousness. Kyrie's voice rang out above her, sharp and accusatory. "Dorothy, who are you trying to fool this time?"

Before she could answer, he hauled her to her feet. "What, you’re out here freezing just to make me pity you?"

Her teeth clattered, her lips pale, but she managed to speak. "It’s Portia. She won’t let me in."

"What nonsense are you talking about? Am I really that cruel?" Portia emerged from the room, her eyes sharp.

She latched onto Kyrie’s arm, her lips pouting in feigned innocence. "Kyrie, look at her. She’ll say anything just to make you feel sorry for her!"

Kyrie sneered. "You think she’s trying to trick me? Who do you think you are?"

Dorothy quickly pointed toward the servant standing nearby. "Ask her."

The servant lowered her gaze, speaking softly. "Miss Sandoval didn’t give any instructions."

"You..."

Dorothy’s words were cut short as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Before she could even react, Kyrie slammed her to the ground.

"Since you enjoy tormenting yourself so much, clean up the garden and pull every weed! Otherwise, you and your brother can forget about everything going well for you!"

The words drained all the fight from Dorothy, leaving her hollow. Her eyes reddened with unshed tears, but she remained silent. Slowly, she rose to her feet and staggered toward the garden, the weight of her defeat heavy with each step.

The garden had been neglected for days and wild grass had crept into every crack in the walls as though it had been left there just for Dorothy. She had only managed to pull a few weeds when blisters began to form on her hands, a combination of itching and sharp pain.

"How pitiful."

Portia’s voice cut through the air, dripping with mockery.

Dorothy clenched her fists, determined not to respond. But before she could continue, a cold stream of water cascaded over her, soaking her to the bone.

Dorothy gasped in shock, scrambling to her feet, only to find Portia grinning wickedly, holding the hose like a weapon.

"Portia, are you done yet?"

Dorothy’s body trembled with rage, the biting cold wind cutting at her skin like a thousand knives.

Portia giggled. "Seeing you like this makes me so happy."

Dorothy stared at her, her heart hardening with each mocking word. Suddenly, a strange calm settled over her. She clenched her fists. "Portia, you're the same as the one who took over my body, aren’t you?"

Portia froze, just for a moment. Then she twirled her hair, a deeper smile spreading across her face. "Looks like you're not as stupid as I thought. Yes, I’m the one who took over your body."

Dorothy’s eyes widened, her fists tightening so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

Portia studied her with interest, a smile playing on her lips. "Let me tell you something. At first, my target wasn’t Kyrie. It was your brother, Ivan. But he was so stubborn, wouldn’t listen to me and all he cared about was you, his precious sister."

Ivan...

Dorothy’s throat tightened, her breath hitching.

"According to the story, he only had three years left to live. I couldn’t tie myself to someone with such a short life. So, I used a tool to take over my body and shift my focus. As for Kyrie... well, the tool I used helped me win his favor as well."

Portia grew increasingly pleased with herself, her satisfaction evident in every word. "I have to admit, my decision was spot on. He’s far better than Ivan in every possible way. It’s just a pity that once the tool ran out, I was dragged back to the original world."

Her smile deepened, a trace of something darker behind her eyes. "But since I love him, I couldn’t bear to stay away. So, I found a way to return to this world. And seeing you in such misery... it fills me with such satisfaction."

"Truthfully, I didn’t want to go after you, but you kept standing in my way, ruining everything. You even made me lose face in front of everyone!"

Dorothy froze and fragments of the past surged through her mind.

She remembered a girl who would visit Ivan at the hospital, bringing him gifts. At first, Dorothy had assumed the girl was just a friend. But then Ivan had told her the truth, that she was no friend at all.

Ivan had always been distant from that girl, showing nothing but indifference. Yet, she clung to him like a shadow, even daring to force her way into his room while he rested.

At first, Dorothy had only tried to advise the girl gently, but soon, she realized something far darker had happened; the girl had somehow caused Ivan to fall unconscious and even touched him. That was when Dorothy had snapped, throwing the girl out without a second thought.

She had never imagined that girl was Portia.

Nor could she have known that Portia would harbor such deep resentment over it.

Seeing Dorothy’s stunned silence, Portia’s tone grew colder, her words cutting deeper. "Let me spell it out for you, Dorothy. Everything you’re going through now is your fault. After all, you were the one who got in my way back then."

A cruel smile curled Portia’s lips. "But I do owe you a thank you. If it weren’t for you, I never would have switched my target to Kyrie. He treats me so well... and he’s far more satisfying than your short-lived brother. I…"

"Shut up!"

Dorothy’s vision blurred with rage as she charged forward, her hand connecting with Portia’s cheek in a stinging slap.

Portia stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide. "You dare slap me?"

"What are you doing, Dorothy!"

The sudden roar from behind shattered the moment. Before Dorothy could react, she was shoved into the bushes, her face scraping against sharp rose thorns that tore at her skin, drawing fresh blood.

"Kyrie, thank goodness you’re here!" Portia rushed into Kyrie’s arms, feigning distress. Though she wasn’t hurt in the slightest, she cried with a dramatic flair, clutching him like a lifeline.

Kyrie’s cold gaze locked onto Dorothy, his voice seething with anger. "Dorothy, you’ve become bold, haven’t you?"

Dorothy gritted her teeth, ignoring the sharp sting on her face as she pushed herself up. "Kyrie, don’t be fooled by her. She’s not who she seems..."

Before she could finish, Kyrie’s hand connected with her cheek in another slap, this time gripping her chin with a vice-like hold. "I told you, no tricks. Apologize to Portia right now."

Dorothy’s heart bled just as her cheek did and with fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms, she glared at Kyrie with defiance. "I won’t apologize!"

Kyrie’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them. "Are you sure?"

Dorothy’s fingers, icy and trembling, turned pale from the force of her grip, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "Kyrie, why won’t you trust me? Portia isn’t who she seems. She’s the one pulling the strings!"

"Enough of your nonsense!"

"Since you refuse to listen, I’ll make you see sense!" With that, Kyrie wrenched Dorothy up.

As soon as she was on her feet, a sharp, searing pain ripped through her abdomen, followed by a warm, unwanted rush.

Her period had come.

"Let go of me!" Dorothy fought with all her strength, but Kyrie’s grip was unrelenting, and in the end, he dragged her toward the edge of the swimming pool, her body a captive to his force.