MOLLY'S POV
The room emptied quickly after his arrival, as if his presence alone pushed the air out of everyone's lungs. Within minutes, only Kelvin and I remained.
He studied me in silence, hands tucked into his pockets, a man carved from stillness and command. The longer he stared, the more I sensed it, he wasn't here just out of curiosity. He was measuring me.
"You really aren't the same girl," he said at last.
I tilted my head. "And is that a problem?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest edge of danger slicing through the calm. "It depends. If you plan to return to your old habits, humiliating yourself and chasing after my brother..." His voice dropped, colder than ice. "Then it is."
I almost laughed. So this was it, the infamous Jin Liwei, delivering a warning to the woman I now inhabited.
"Don't worry," I said, my lips curving. "I have no intention of chasing anyone. Least of all your brother."
Something flickered across his face. Not relief, not irritation, something harder to read.
He stepped closer, and I resisted the instinct to move back. His shadow fell over me, commanding, suffocating. "Then remember this, Miss Molly," he said softly, lethally. "In this city, every move you make is watched. Don't step where you can't survive."
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. My voice came out calm, almost mocking. "Survival has always been my specialty."
The silence between us crackled. For a heartbeat, I thought he might smile. Instead, he turned, his coat shifting with quiet elegance.
"Good," he murmured. And just like that, he walked away, leaving me standing there with my pulse racing.
I pressed a hand against my chest, my lips curling in a smirk.
So the devil himself decided to warn me. Interesting.
If he thought I'd be intimidated, he was wrong.
This was my second life. And I intended to play it by my rules, devils included.
The news of my "miraculous awakening" spread faster than wildfire. By the time I was discharged, reporters were already camping outside the hospital, hungry for a scandal.
In the past, the old Molly would have loved this posing dramatically, shouting for attention, giving them something ridiculous to gossip about.
But I wasn't her.
The moment I stepped outside, microphones and flashing lights swarmed me. Questions flew like arrows.
"Miss Molly, how does it feel to wake up after a year?"
"Will you continue your music career?"
"Are the rumors about your mental health true?"
I adjusted the sunglasses on my face and walked straight past them. Not a single word. Not a single glance. Just silence.
The crowd gasped. Silence was something Molly had never given them.
I could hear the whispers already.
"She didn't even yell?"
"She looked... calm."
"Is that really Molly?"
Good. "Let them doubt", I said to myself.
At home, the shock continued. The staff stiffened when I entered, waiting for tantrums, insults, maybe a wine glass thrown across the room. Instead, I simply said, "Thank you for taking care of the place," as I walked upstairs.
Their mouths fell open.
I almost laughed. Did they really think I'd waste my second life on screaming matches with maids?
In the mirror of my new bedroom, I studied myself again. The soft face. The delicate frame. The image of a spoiled child. But behind the eyes, there was me, harder, sharper, untamed.
They all thought Molly is back from a coma. No. She is gone.
Soon, everyone would realize that the woman standing in her place is someone entirely different.
I touched the glass, my reflection smirking back.
"My first step," I whispered. "Now watch me walk."
