I awakened to my family’s Serpentine Bloodline. Upon reaching adulthood, we are granted a choice: to choose our gender once more. In my last life, to be with the man I loved, I chose to remain a woman. I became a devoted wife and mother. I helped him grow from a small business owner into one of the wealthiest men in the city. I raised our son and daughter and saw them into Ivy League schools. But on my fiftieth birthday, I ate a slice of cake my husband had baked for me with his own hands. And I began to spit out mouthfuls of black blood. My children stood by and watched. They made no move to call for an ambulance. "Just let go, Mom," my son said calmly. "Auntie Sylvia will take good care of us and Dad." "Yeah," my daughter added, her voice flat. "Honestly, being your kid is a total embarrassment." Everything they had, they owed to me. Yet they cast me into the abyss without a second thought. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the family sanctum. The clan elder held out the ceremonial parchment, the one that would seal my choice. "Elara," he said gently. "It's time to decide." 1 I took the parchment from the elder's hands and, stroke by stroke, wrote down my new name. When the final stroke was complete, the decision would be irreversible. The elder looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise. "Are you truly certain? You wish to live the rest of your life as a man?" "And what of your young man, Joey? Can he accept you after... the change?" As he spoke, Joey himself was standing just outside the sanctum's doors, watching me with an eager, hopeful expression. As an outsider, he could neither enter nor hear our words. I reverently lit the parchment, letting the smoke carry my choice to our ancestors. I offered the elder a small smile. "Grandfather, my mind is made up. But until the transformation is complete, I ask that you keep this a secret for me." "As you wish. It is your life to command," he sighed. "The ritual will be complete in one week. Your new identification will be delivered then." One week. I mouthed the words. In one week, I would have a new life, a future so bright it felt like a dream. But first, I had to deal with Joey. As I stepped out of the sanctum, he rushed to my side, grabbing my hand. "Elara, I know what you've sacrificed for me. I swear, I will never let you regret it." He looked deep into my eyes. "Will you forge a pact with me?" I froze. He never mentioned a pact in our last life. Could he have been reborn, too? I decided to test him. "A pact isn't like a marriage, Joey. Once it's forged, we can never be parted. Can you truly promise to love me for a lifetime, and never fall for another?" "Of course," he vowed, his gaze intense. But I could see it, hiding behind the performance—the same cold, ruthless ambition I saw in his eyes as he watched me die. "Elara, the very thought of losing you is agony," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, say you'll do it. Say yes." A phantom pain twisted in my gut, as if the poison from my last life was still coursing through me, tearing me apart from the inside. I suppressed the bitterness and smiled brightly at him. "Alright, Joey. I accept." "I don't want to be apart from you either. Let's forge the pact right now." I snipped a lock of his hair and bound it together with one of my own. We took it back to the elder, who burned the offering in the sanctum's sacred brazier. "I, Elara, and Joey, bind our hair and our hearts as one, our love true and eternal." The elder opened his mouth as if to protest, "But Elara, aren't you...?" He caught himself, remembering my request. He gave us both a long, complicated look before letting out a heavy sigh. As I watched our hair turn to ash in the flames, a genuine smile finally touched my lips. That night, Joey sat down with my parents to discuss the wedding. The gentle, adoring man from the sanctum was gone. He sat at the head of the table and, without even looking up, addressed my mother. "So, when are you transferring the deeds for the houses and cars to my name?" My mother’s face darkened. "What did you just say?" "Let's be blunt," Joey said, finally meeting her gaze. "I don't have any money. You'll have to cover all the wedding expenses. Or we can skip the wedding, I don't really care." "But once we're married, Elara is my wife. Her property will be my property. What's the difference if you transfer it now or later?" He casually placed a drumstick on my plate, a smug look on his face. "Isn't that right, Elara?" My parents turned to me, their expressions grim. They knew the final decision was mine. "You hear that, Elara?" my mother said, her voice tight. "You're not even married, and he's already trying to seize our family's assets. What kind of life will you have with him? Even if you remain a woman, we can find you a good man. Just say the word, and we'll throw him out this instant." My father silently picked up a heavy wooden cane. Joey yelped. "You can't! We've already forged the pact! If she doesn't marry me, she will die!" My parents looked as if they'd been struck by lightning. Seeing my silence, they began to scold me, calling me a fool, their anger so great I feared my mother would have a heart attack. I placed a calming hand on her shoulder. They had yet to witness the true depths of Joey's depravity. Fate had given me this second chance to show me what a true abyss looked like. I turned to Joey. "All of our family's assets, except for the house my parents currently live in, are in my name. That's sixteen villas, two historic townhouses, seventy commercial properties, thirty-four cars, and about six hundred million in savings." "If you want it, I'll transfer it all to you. We'll just leave this one house for my parents. Do you agree?" A fire ignited in Joey's eyes. In his last life, he had become a tycoon with only a fraction of my support. He knew I was wealthy, but he never dreamed I was this wealthy. "Deal," he said instantly. "But your parents have to write their wills now. When they die, this house must be in my name only." His greed didn't surprise me. I agreed to his terms. As the final transfer of funds went through, a single, iridescent serpent's scale materialized on his left forearm. "What is this?" he asked, startled. "A mark of our pact," I explained calmly. "When all three scales have appeared, the pact will be complete and unbreakable." "Why didn't I have this before?" he muttered to himself, then quickly fell silent. He looked at me, stripped of my entire fortune, yet still watching him with a serene, untroubled gaze. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. "Don't be upset," he said, trying to sound magnanimous. "My money is your money, right? I'll take care of you. It’s better for the man to hold the assets. It keeps the family stable." In my last life, I was the one who initiated the pact. When he swore to be good to me then, his performance was far more convincing. And what did that get me? A cup of poison and an early grave. With my money, Joey first bought himself his dream motorcycle. Then he went on a shopping spree, buying mountains of jewelry, designer clothes, and luxury skincare—all things for a woman. The transaction notifications flooded my phone. His gift to me? A nine-ninety-nine, gold-plated bracelet from a cheap online store. I accepted it with a smile, without a single word of complaint. Four days before the ritual was to be completed, Joey dragged me from my bed in the middle of the night. Clad only in my pajamas, I was pulled into his car and driven to the hospital. "My sister was in a car accident," he said, his voice tense. "You have the same blood type. You have to donate." When we entered the emergency room, I knew. His "sister" was Sylvia. The "Auntie Sylvia" my son had spoken of. The woman Joey and my children had truly loved. He grabbed a nurse who was heading into surgery. "Take her blood," he commanded. "You have to save Sylvia, no matter what it takes." The nurse drew 400cc of my blood. Joey’s brow furrowed. "Don't you need 1000cc? Why are you stopping?" The nurse looked at him, flustered. "Sir, drawing more than 400cc at once is dangerous. If we take 1000cc, this woman could go into shock. Besides, the patient's injuries aren't life-threatening, and we have a blood supply on the way." "I don't care. Her blood is better. Use hers." He gestured at me. "She's my wife. You think I don't know what her body can handle? A measly 1000cc of blood is nothing to her." Onlookers began to murmur. "What a monster. Is he using his wife as a walking blood bag?" "Seriously, all blood is the same. I think he's just trying to kill her." "Honey, don't do it," a woman whispered to me. "It's not worth hurting yourself for someone else." I just smiled and extended my arm to the nurse. "It's fine. Draw the blood. This is what Joey wants from me. I have to give it to him." The nurse stared at me as if I were insane. The people who had just defended me now muttered that I was an idiot, that you can't save someone who's determined to die. I didn't flinch. I watched as the life drained out of me, tube by tube. How did Joey know my blood was "better"? In our last life, he had been in the ICU with a severe case of pneumonia. The doctors had given up on him. It was my blood, brewed into a special medicinal draught, that brought him back from the brink. So this time, even though the hospital had plenty of blood, even though Sylvia's life wasn't in danger, he was still determined to drain me dry for his one true love. I faded into unconsciousness. When I awoke, Joey was by my bedside. I lifted the sleeve of his shirt. There, on his left arm, was a second serpent scale. He saw the scale, a complex emotion in his eyes. He spoke softly. "Elara... I never realized how much you loved me. I was wrong. I'm so sorry." "The doctor said you lost too much blood. You had a miscarriage. They couldn't save your uterus. You won't be able to have children again." I smiled faintly. "Is that so? Well, what's gone is gone. I don't mind." "You're not angry?!" Joey stared at me, his expression shifting from remorse to rage. "That was our child! Why aren't you sad that it's gone? Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?!" As if it would have made a difference. Besides, why would I want Joey's child? I had raised two of them already. I gave them the best life, the best education money could buy. My son was brilliant but rebellious. My daughter was obedient but dull. Did he think they got into the Ivy League on their own merit? It was all due to my family's influence and my own tireless efforts. And did those two vipers ever show me an ounce of gratitude? They watched me writhe on the floor, my fingers digging bloody grooves into the hardwood from the pain. And they calmly discussed where they should take Sylvia on vacation. At that thought, I reached out and took Joey's hand. "Joey, what's done is done. What can we do now? The important thing is that your sister is safe. If you want children in the future, we can just adopt hers." "You'd… you'd do that?" Joey was stunned by my apparent generosity. He couldn't seem to comprehend how I could be so utterly devoted. But my proposal offered him nothing but benefits. He pulled me into an embrace. "Elara, I'm the luckiest man in the world to have a wife like you. We'll raise Sylvia's children as our own. You'll teach them, and they'll grow up to be amazing. They'll be good to you. If they ever disobey you, I'll set them straight." He said all the right things. But I knew, in the future he was imagining, I was the one who would be "set straight." Joey brought Sylvia home for me to care for. As I was washing fruit for her, she tossed her underwear into the bowl. "My doctor said I can't get my hands wet while I'm recovering, darling," she said with a smirk. "Be a dear and take care of this for me." My hand paused for a fraction of a second. Then I took the lacy underwear and began to wash it under the tap. Sylvia raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Joey was right. You're completely bound to him. Pathetically so. Is there anything you wouldn't do for him?" "Not quite," I said without looking up, concentrating on my task. "The ritual will be complete in two days." "This is the last favor I'll ever do for Joey." "What 'last favor'?" Joey asked, walking into the kitchen. He saw what I was washing and shot Sylvia a mildly disapproving look. In a few days, he wouldn't even have that flicker of guilt. He'd just see me as the help. Sylvia smiled at me. "Well then, I'd better make the most of it." The night before the ritual was to be completed, Joey and Sylvia tied my hands and feet and shoved me into a large birdcage. "Joey, what are you doing?" I cried out. "Where are you taking me?" The car ride was long and bumpy. Finally, they stopped, and the cloth covering the cage was ripped away. Blinding light flooded in. I found myself staring into a pair of lecherous, greedy eyes. The man was at least seventy, drool gathering at the corner of his mouth as he stared at my chest. "Fresh," he rasped. "So fresh. You're sure I can do whatever I want with her tonight?" A fire ignited in the pit of my stomach. I locked my eyes on Joey. "What is the meaning of this?" He wouldn't meet my gaze. Sylvia draped herself over his shoulder. "We had a little accident on the motorcycle the other day. We hit Don Marco's dog, and it died." "Don Marco said if we couldn't bring his dog back to life, he'd take one of Joey's arms as payment. So, I suggested that you could spend the night with him, to apologize on our behalf. You love Joey so much, I'm sure you don't mind, right?" I almost laughed. I kept my eyes fixed on Joey. "I want to hear it from you, Joey. Are you really giving me to another man? To pay for a dead dog?" "Elara, don't be scared," he said, finally looking at me. "It's just one night. It'll be over before you know it. Besides, I'm your husband. If I don't mind you being 'soiled,' what do you have to worry about?" His depravity knew no bounds. My chest heaved with fury. I dug my nails into my palms, telling myself to endure. Just a little longer. The old man grew impatient. "What do you mean, 'just a dog'? I could have taken your lives for killing my dog. It seems to me the lady isn't willing. Get over here and tie your wife to my bed yourself before I change my mind. You don't want to find out what happens when you get on my bad side." The color drained from Joey's face. He opened the cage and, without untying me, hoisted me over his shoulder and threw me onto the bed. I spit in his face. "You are pathetic, Joey. I gave you a fortune, and you can't even handle something this small." "Say whatever you want," he muttered, grabbing my wrists and tying them to the bedposts. "Remember this, Elara. After tonight, I'm the only one who will ever want you. Don't you even think about leaving me. You'll behave, you'll live with me and Sylvia, and I'll be good to you." I bit down on his hand, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. He yelped, trying to pull his hand free, and then slapped me hard across the face. "Crazy bitch," he hissed. "Just wait until tomorrow." He gave the old man an obsequious smile and backed out of the room with Sylvia. She gave me one last look, a mixture of pity and triumph in her eyes. The old man lunged, tearing at my clothes. The stale, musty smell of him was suffocating. Just as his hand reached for me, the clock began to chime. Twelve o'clock. A searing pain shot through my body. My limbs contorted, pulling the ropes taut. The old man frowned. "What are you doing? What kind of trick is this?" He shouted towards the door. "Joey, get in here! What's wrong with this broad?!" At the same moment, Joey looked down at his left arm. A third serpent scale had appeared. How? He had always believed the scales represented Elara's love. The more scales, the deeper her love, the stronger their bond. But right now, she clearly hated him more than anything in the world. So why had the third scale appeared? A primal, overwhelming panic seized him. It was an animal instinct, a terror in the face of an apex predator. He threw open the door. "Don Marco, what's wrong?!" As he stepped into the room, he heard a voice. It was young, male, and both strange and terrifyingly familiar. "Kneel." With a sickening thud, Joey's knees slammed into the floorboards, completely against his will.
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