The moment I screamed that final warning, pain overwhelmed me—and I blacked out.

I didn’t know how long I was unconscious.

When I woke up, I found myself submerged inside a giant tank.

Over the centuries, I’ve died countless times. But I always come back.

Exactly twenty-four hours after each death, my body revives. Whether I’m buried in freezing water, sticky mud, or the filth of the sewers, as long as the world hasn’t ended, even if I’m reduced to ashes—just a speck of dust—I will come back.

This time, I had been placed in a tank filled with formalin.

My hollowed-out corpse floated inside like some grotesque exhibit.

Little by little, I began to awaken again even though my body was still paralyzed.

Then I heard Santiago’s voice—cold, indifferent.

He was nearby.

The lid of the tank had already been lifted, and he’d looked at me once.

Through the reflection in his eyes, I caught a glimpse of myself—and recoiled in horror.

My once 170-centimeter-tall frame had been brutalized, curled into a shriveled mass, barely half its original size.

Every usable organ had been harvested, and they now belonged to Elizabeth.

Santiago seemed pleased—so pleased that his voice actually lifted with excitement.

“She shouldn’t be able to resurrect now, right? In this state... there’s no way."

"There’s nothing left but blood, bones, and a head—nothing useful remains.”

The doctor who performed our surgeries nodded in agreement.

“It’s unlikely she’ll revive. And there’s nothing left for scientific research either. So, what should we do with the remains?”

Santiago hesitated only a moment before answering decisively.

“To be safe, cremate the body. Scatter the ashes in all four corners—north, south, east, west. Make sure she never comes back again. Only then can Elizabeth safely inherit her fortune.”

I didn’t know what kind of doctor this man was—but he seemed disturbingly capable.

Not only had he operated on both Elizabeth and me, he was also now helping Santiago dispose of my body with the same casualness someone might use when throwing out a dead cat or dog.

With “my case” neatly settled, they turned their conversation into Elizabeth’s recovery.

Santiago’s tone turned almost giddy. His eyes sparkled—brighter than I’d ever seen them before.

“As expected, an immortal’s organs are different. I thought Elizabeth would need a long recovery, maybe suffer through a difficult transition. But by the second day, she was full of energy!”

“Her body adapted quickly, and her wounds healed rapidly. She’s vibrant, full of life! Honestly, even I was shocked!”

“I’ve already discussed it with Elizabeth. In three days, we’ll move on to the next step.”

The next step?

How funny. He never mentioned that to me.

I strained to listen, heart pounding. But just then, Santiago’s phone rang.

It was Elizabeth.

Her voice on the line was soft and gentle, almost musical.

She said she was craving strawberry cake—her appetite was great, and her mood was even better.

Clearly, her recovery had gone smoothly, and Santiago was overjoyed.

He spoke into the phone with such indulgence it made my skin crawl.

“You greedy little kitten. You’re barely healed, and you’re already begging for strawberry cake?”

Elizabeth giggled on the other end, her tone coy and spoiled.

“There’s more I want to eat... But you’re not here, so I don’t dare think too much about it~”

Santiago chuckled, lips curled in a fond smile. Sweet nothings spilled out without hesitation.

“Then I’ll come now. Think about what you really want, hmm? I’ll make sure you get everything.”

Their flirtatious exchange was like icy needles to my heart.

And maybe... that’s what triggered it.

My resurrection sped up.

Deep in my chest, I could feel it—Something was breaking through muscle and bone. Something was growing.

My heart was coming back.

I curled my lips into a faint smile, feeling my heart slowly begin to beat again—ushering in yet another resurrection.

The heart that once loved Santiago had been taken from me, along with all the love and pain it held.

Now, a new heart has grown inside me.

It feels neither love nor pain.

Only hatred remains—hatred, and the anticipation of revenge.

I endured several hours in that giant formalin tank, watching my body rebuild itself piece by piece.

Half an hour before the doctor was scheduled to “process my remains,”

I shattered the surface of the liquid and emerged.

When the doctor found the tank empty, he reacted as if he’d seen a ghost.

Pale, trembling, and scrambling to call Santiago.

I watched from the shadows, hidden nearby.

The phone rang three times before Santiago finally picked up reluctantly.

“Hello? Santiago! Santiago, something is wrong! Where are you? Tell me—I need to find you immediately!”

The doctor was trembling, frantically glancing around for any sign of me.

Clearly annoyed, Santiago responded with a sharp edge in his voice. “I’m busy right now with Elizabeth—you know that! Her condition just stabilized, and you’re calling me in the middle of the night for what?”

His voice dripped with desire, thick with intimacy.

I could even hear Elizabeth’s soft, breathless moans in the background.

The doctor must’ve heard them too. But he didn’t have time to care—his panic overrode everything.

“It’s Catalina! She’s gone! I went to cremate the body—but the tank was empty! She’s not there!”

Santiago fell silent for a beat. Then his voice turned icy. “What are you talking about? Are you sure? Maybe it was too dark—you didn’t look carefully enough?”

“No! I saw it clearly! There’s nothing in the tank! And there are footprints on the floor. I'm sure it's hers!"

"Catalina must have been resurrected. She’s alive, and ran away!”

As they spiraled into fear, thunder rolled across the night sky—loud and vicious.

But I was already two steps ahead.

I’d stolen the doctor’s car keys and driven straight to Santiago’s apartment.

In the dead of night, the lights in the house still burned brightly. From the garage came the sound of his frantic movements—his panicked voice echoing between shallow, hurried breaths as he struggled to move something heavy.

Elizabeth followed closely behind, her face etched with confusion and growing anxiety.

“Tiago, where are we going? What’s happening? Why are we packing our luggage?” she asked, voice trembling.

Santiago didn’t stop moving. “We’re leaving. First flight out. I’ll explain when we’re safe!”

Elizabeth looked lost, unsure, but she didn’t press further.

When the third crack of thunder sounded. She stopped in her tracks.

Her eyes glazed over—as if answering an unseen call.

And without a word, she turned toward the front door and opened it.

There I stood.

She smiled faintly and obediently stepped to my side.

“Elizabeth?! Where are you going?!”

Santiago rushed out after her—and froze when he saw me.

His face turned white as a sheet. Still, even in terror, he instinctively reached out to Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, come here! Don’t go near her—listen to me! You can’t handle her! Please—step away from her!”

Ah. Even now, it was her he worried about. Not the woman he had gutted alive.

How amusing.

I smiled coldly.

Such pitiful ignorance.

I turned to Elizabeth and said softly, “Hold him. We’re going inside... to have a proper talk.”

Without a word of protest, Elizabeth obeyed. She moved like a puppet under my control—and in the blink of an eye, she had twisted Santiago’s arm and dragged him inside, dislocating his shoulder without so much as a blink.

He howled in pain, stunned, struggling in disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?! Catalina—what did you do to her?!”

I looked up at the thunder-filled sky and gave him a slow, regretful shake of the head. “I didn’t do anything."

"I warned you, but you refused to listen. Now, you’ll pay the price.”

“Didn’t you know?” I said coldly.

“Once someone absorbs more than thirty percent of an immortal’s blood and flesh, they become the next immortal. And with it, they inherit every ounce of pain I’ve ever endured.”