Nora woke to the soft sound of birds chirping outside the window. A warm breeze carried the faint scent of flowers, and the mattress beneath her felt far too plush, far too luxurious.
She blinked, trying to sit up, but a sharp dizziness made her head throb. Groaning, she rubbed her temples. The last thing she rembered was—
The airport. The gunshot. The pain.
Her breath hitched. Instinctively, she clutched at her chest, expecting blood, a wound, anything. But there was nothing. No pain. No bullet hole. Only smooth, unblemished skin.
Before she could make sense of it, movent caught her eye.
A woman sat beside the bed, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes—almost as if she hadn’t expected her to wake up.
Nora’s gaze road over her. She was stunning, with fair, porcelain-like skin that seed untouched by ti. Chestnut-brown hair cascaded in elegant waves over her shoulders, framing dark brown eyes lined with long, delicate lashes. She had an air of grace about her—poised, refined, like soone from a world untouched by chaos.
And then there was her outfit.
It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even close to normal.
A high-necked gown, intricate embroidery, sleeves that billowed slightly before cinching at the wrists—it looked straight out of a period drama. Or, more accurately, a Renaissance fair.
What in the Halloween party hell is this?
Panic flickered inside her. Sothing was wrong.
She tried to gather her thoughts, but instead, the words tumbled out before she could stop them:
"Sister, am I in heaven?"
The woman’s lips parted slightly. She looked even more shocked than before.
Nora’s gaze darted around the grand bedroom—ornate furnishings, gold-trimd drapes, a chandelier that looked like it cost more than her entire apartnt.
"If this is heaven, it would make sense why it looks like Queen Elizabeth’s house. Taray!"
The woman didn’t react.
Before she could answer, the door opened, and a man entered, carrying a small basin and a towel. He was dressed in a deep navy suit, crisp and regal, like a butler or so high-ranking attendant. Yet, despite his servant-like appearance, there was an undeniable air of wealth and authority about him.
Nora’s eyes widened further.
"Brother, are you Saint Peter?"
Dead silence.
The man froze. The woman’s lips twitched—was that amusent or concern?
"Are the people in heaven mute?" she continued, looking between them. "Or wait—did I end up in the other place?"
Still, no response.
Finally, the woman spoke, her voice gentle yet firm.
"Katherine..."
Nora blinked. "Huh?"
The woman gave her a soft smile. "Katherine. How do you feel?"
Her mind stuttered. Katherine? Who the hell is Katherine?
"Uh... sorry, am I Katherine?" she asked, voice uncertain.
The woman nodded. "Yes, dear."
Nora—no, Katherine—felt her stomach flip. This wasn’t just so elaborate hospital stay. Sothing was very, very wrong.
She hesitated. "And you are...?"
The woman’s smile deepened. "I’m Yevon. Just call Aunt Yevon. And this man is Philemon."
Philemon? That na rang a bell.
"Wow, Philemon, Philemon," Katherine repeated, then muttered, "Like the one who fished in the sea... Cebuano vibes."
The two exchanged utterly baffled looks.
Katherine blinked. Then blinked again.
"No, no, no. Wait. That can’t be right." She pointed at herself. "I am Nora. Thirty-sothing. Career woman. A proud Jollibee enjoyer! I can’t be so random girl nad Katherine!"
Aunt Yevon and Philemon exchanged baffled looks.
Katherine held up a trembling hand. "Okay. Okay. I just need to test sothing."
She turned to Philemon. "Sir, what’s your last na?"
"Clermont," he replied smoothly.
"Hmmmm. Sounds rich." She narrowed her eyes.
She then spun toward Aunt Yevon. "Ma’am, do you know what a Jollibee is?"
"...A what?"
Katherine froze. "Oh god. I really did die."
She imdiately turned toward the mirror and gasped..
The reflection was still different: waist-length red hair, porcelain skin, and big green eyes. She wasn’t herself anymore.
Her brain short-circuited. "Aunt. Auntie. Tita. Ma’am. Please. Tell the truth."
Aunt Yevon’s brow furrowed. "What truth?"
"Am I in a coma right now? Is this so kind of twisted Netflix horror show? Because I—" She inhaled sharply. "I think I just got... isekai’d."
"Isekai’d?" they echoed, clearly unfamiliar with the reference.
"Ah, never mind," she sighed. "Just ignore ."
Ugh. I need to stop talking. They probably think I hit my head too hard.
Aunt Yevon, thankfully, didn’t push for an explanation. Instead, she simply smiled, a flicker of relief crossing her face.
Katherine had no idea why, but sothing told her that her waking up had been... unexpected.
And, judging by their expressions, she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
***
Katherine sat at the massive dining table, staring at her super sosyal breakfast spread. The plates? Fancy porcelain with actual gold edges. The utensils? So shiny she could see her own face reflected in them. The chairs? Unreasonably elegant, with intricate carvings that probably took a hundred hours to make.
She gulped.
This wasn’t just rich. This was "old money, multiple generations of wealth, I-own-a-country" rich. Seto Kaiba rich!
So... who exactly was she now?
She stole another glance at the mirror across the room, half-expecting—hoping—to see her old self. Maybe the universe was pranking her, and her reflection would suddenly morph back to normal.
Nope. Still there. The stranger in the reflection.
A girl with striking erald eyes, ridiculously long lashes, and waist-length wavy red hair that looked fresh out of a shampoo comrcial.
Katherine sighed dramatically, pushing her food around her plate. She was pretty, sure. But she wasn’t her.
And this place? Definitely not the Philippines.
Not the airport either.
Not the afterlife... unless heaven was secretly a Bridgerton set.
So... where the hell am I?!
She wanted to scream, but she figured that would be bad manners in front of her fancy new "Aunt."
Aunt Yevon sat across from her, sipping her tea all graceful and elegant, like a tita who owned half of Makati. She barely even blinked as Katherine sat there, internally spiraling.
Was this woman secretly a saint?
Or was she just used to this weirdness?
Katherine was starting to piece things together.
The house? ga lavish.
The people? Suspiciously calm about her "amnesia."
The maids? Dressed like they walked out of a historical ani.
And Aunt Yevon? Apparently a marchioness.
Wow, very sosyal. We have a tita na may title! (We have a aunt with a title)
She tried to shake off her thoughts, but her head was starting to ache again. Brain, please, let’s not overthink.
Aunt Yevon placed her cup down, watching her carefully. "Katherine, how are you feeling?"
Katherine blinked. Right. Act normal.
"Ah... I’m okay, Aunt," she replied, then hesitated. "Uh, how long was I unconscious?"
Aunt Yevon’s lips curved into a soft smile. "About a week."
A WEEK?!
Katherine’s fork almost clattered onto her plate.
Wait, wait, wait. That ans—
It had been a whole week since she got shot at the airport.
She wasn’t sure how to process that information, so she forced herself to focus on the basics. "What happened, Aunt?"
Aunt Yevon sighed. "We found you unconscious in the garden. After that... we don’t know."
HUH??
Katherine squinted.
You don’t know? Tita, you’re rich. You live in a giant mansion. There’s no CCTV? Not even a magic cara?
She wanted so badly to say it out loud, but she figured roasting her new guardian wasn’t the best survival strategy.
Instead, she sighed and went back to her food.
Nothing made sense.
She didn’t know how or why she ended up here.
But one thing was crystal clear—
Her life was never going to be the sa again.
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