My stepsister tricked me into drinking a protein shake spiked with her own blood—a dark ritual to steal my beauty. She replaced me, becoming a top supermodel, while I withered away—bloated, disfigured, and blacklisted from the industry. My stepmother didn't stop there. She placed a cursed cactus in my bedroom, an occult object designed to siphon my luck and life force. The harder I worked, the worse my life became. I lived in a nightmare until the day I was struck by a truck on 5th Avenue. But when I opened my eyes... I was back. Back to the night my stepsister handed me that silver tumbler for the first time. I took the shake—the one meant to swap our faces—and secretly poured it into the soil of the very cactus my stepmother used to drain my luck. In this life, if I’m going down, I’m taking every single one of them with me. 1 "Harper, sweetie, I warmed up your milk. You’ve been working so hard, drink up and get some rest!" Hearing Tiffany’s voice sent a violent shiver down my spine. In my previous life, this glass of milk was the beginning of the end. My mom passed away when I was very young. Not long after, my dad brought home a new woman, Brenda. And her daughter, Tiffany, who was only a few months younger than me. At first, they played the part of the perfect, supportive family. But everything changed after graduation. I was scouted by a top agency and quickly became an international supermodel. Tiffany was consumed by jealousy. She found a psychic who taught her a dark ritual: using her own blood as a medium, mixed into my nightly milk, to slowly swap our bodies and faces. She stole my runway, earning millions and basking in the spotlight. I was left with a face covered in cysts and a body that gained weight no matter what I did. I lost my career. To ensure I never recovered, Brenda placed a "Luck-Vampire Cactus" in my room to drain the energy of whoever slept there. No matter how hard I tried, I met with nothing but failure. I was a walking corpse until that accident sent me to the ICU. In the hospital, Tiffany leaned over my bed and whispered the truth. "Harper, I hated you. I hated that you were born with everything—the looks, the money, the attention—without even trying." "But it doesn't matter now. Mom and I took your dad, and now we’ve taken your beauty, your fame, your fortune... everything." "Oh, and guess what? Next month, I’m not just walking in the Global Gala... I’m getting engaged to your boyfriend, Chad." "Too bad you won't be alive to see it." My damaged heart couldn't take the shock. The monitor flatlined. Tiffany pretended to scream for help, and my world went black. "Harper?" Tiffany’s voice pulled me back to the present. I looked up. Under her mask of concern, I saw the hidden malice and anticipation. I suppressed my rage and took the cup. "Thanks, Tiff. I'll drink it in a minute." I watched her leave and locked the door. I turned around and poured the cursed milk directly into the soil of the luck-stealing cactus. Since this milk is infused with her blood, I imagine this evil plant will find it much more... appetizing than just my presence. In this life, let's see what happens when two parasites try to feed on each other. 2 A few minutes later, Tiffany couldn't wait to check on me. Seeing the empty cup, she couldn't hide her grin. Her eyes, already squeezed shut by the fat on her cheeks, practically disappeared. She volunteered to wash the cup. When she opened the kitchen door, the smell of grease hit me. Tiffany was making late-night fried chicken. Honestly, Tiffany took after her mother. Brenda was petite and decent-looking, so Tiffany shouldn't have been unattractive. But when they first moved in, Brenda wanted to assert dominance. Any gourmet food went straight to Tiffany. To mock me, Tiffany would gorge herself in front of me. "Dad bought me this pudding! Sorry Harper, he didn't get one for you. Don't be mad!" At dinner, if I touched a ribeye steak, Tiffany would act like a victim. "Dad, back home, Mom always let me have the whole steak. Does Harper have to take everything?" My dad, who hated conflict and felt my late mother was too strong-willed, sided with them to feel like a "man." He ordered that I eat leftovers only after they finished. For a child, life is about food and play. Tiffany’s gluttony grew unchecked. She became obese. When we hit our teens, she started obsessing over my figure. She convinced Dad to let me eat at the table, but only so Brenda could cook greasy, sugary bombs to sabotage me. But I was already modeling. I ate strict agency-approved meals. They couldn't touch me. In my last life, I saw her eating fried chicken at midnight and tried to warn her. "Weight loss is about consistency. Eating this late ruins your metabolism." She just gave me a mysterious smirk. "Harper, I don't care anymore. I believe in destiny. Maybe one day I'll just wake up skinny. Don't you think?" Now I knew. She knew the swap was coming. Every calorie she ate would end up on my hips. I walked into the kitchen, pretending to be tempted. "Is that fried chicken? Can I have a bite?" Tiffany panicked and covered the plate. "No! Harper... you're a model! You have to watch your figure!" I looked down, acting sad. "That warm milk really woke up my appetite. But you're right. Maybe you should stop making me milk. It makes me crave junk food!" She froze. The milk was the only way to mask the taste of her blood. As I turned to leave, she shouted, "Wait! I’ll make you a keto-friendly dessert!" She spent an hour making a complicated coconut egg white pudding. She even got yelled at by Dad for using the mixer so late. I ate it with satisfaction. "If I have this after my milk every night, I won't crave junk." She forced a smile through gritted teeth. "Sure... I’ll make it for you every single night!" 3 Half a month passed. Every night, I took the spiked milk and fed it to the cactus. Every night, Tiffany slaved away making me gourmet diet desserts. She was tired, but happy. She thought she was feeding her future body. To keep up the act, I used makeup to create fake spots on my face and started wearing a mask at home. The cactus began to assimilate her. Her bumpy, acne-ridden skin started to smooth out, becoming glossy and green-tinted. Her body shape changed—not just thinner, but... flatter. Like a succulent. She stopped eating grease at home to avoid tempting me, so she binged outside. The cactus on my desk grew rounder and oilier every day. I eavesdropped outside her room. "Mom! The Psychic’s stuff is working! I lost 20 pounds this week!" I smiled. She didn't notice she wasn't just losing fat; she was losing her human shape. Tiffany continued, "But Harper’s career is still going up, even though her face is getting messy. Is your cactus working?" Brenda replied, "Patience! She’s a top model; it takes time to drain that much luck. But look at me! I’ve been winning scratch-off tickets all week! Small amounts, but I never win!" Tiffany sighed. "Mom, get me a charm too. I’ve been so unlucky lately." Of course she was. The cactus was drinking her blood every night. Tiffany had been tripping over nothing, dropping her phone, losing keys. The day Brenda won $200, Tiffany got food poisoning and soiled herself on the subway. She was mortified. "I haven't gone to work in days!" "Who cares about work?" Brenda waved her hand. "Once you have Harper’s face, you’ll make millions just by standing there!" They began fantasizing about mansions, cars, and kicking my dad to the curb. I turned to leave, but then I heard a name. "I've been online dating Chad for months. Once I’m skinny, I’ll meet him in person and leave Harper with nothing!" 4 In my last life, I never suspected Chad. He was my college sweetheart. When I got "sick" and ugly, he drifted away. I thought it was natural. But hearing he was engaged to Tiffany in the ICU? That was a setup. He had been cheating for a long time. Fine. Let me give him a little push. I texted Chad: 【Babe, I don't know what's happening. I'm gaining weight and my face is breaking out. I might have to quit modeling. What should I do?】 Usually, he replied instantly. This time, the "typing" bubble appeared and disappeared for minutes. Finally: 【Harper, are you just tired? Don't give up so easily. Modeling pays so well!】 I pushed harder: 【If I quit, will you support me?】 Radio silence. A moment later, Tiffany entered my room. "Harper, did you fight with Chad?" Her tone was concerned, but she was smirking. She was impatient because I wasn't falling apart fast enough. I frowned. "None of your business." She giggled. "Harper, if you lost your beauty and job, would Chad still love you?" "Oh, don't get me wrong! I just mean... a guy like Chad has plenty of options. If you don't work hard, someone might take your place." She spun around, showing off her "new figure." I squinted. She looked like a flattened croissant. She took my empty milk cup. "Cherish these days, Harper."
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