1
At midnight, a red Maserati sped down a deserted highway. Behind it, a black Mercedes-Benz gave chase at an even greater speed... The two cars, one chasing the other, raced toward an intersection.
BANG! With a deafening, piercing crash, a large truck driving on the wrong side of the road slammed into the Maserati at an incredible speed, sending it flying. In the bright moonlight, the car flipped in mid-air before crashing heavily back to the ground.
The Mercedes screeched to a halt on the side of the road.
Two men got out of the driver and front passenger seats. One hurried to open the back door for his boss, while the other went to inspect the crash scene.
Streetlights lined both sides of the highway.
A single, polished leather shoe stepped out from the back seat, gleaming under the lights. A handsome man in a sharp suit emerged from the car. He first straightened his clothes, glanced around, then asked nonchalantly, "Are you sure there are no cameras around?"
"Certain."
The man nodded in satisfaction and walked toward the Maserati, which was now emitting white smoke.
In the driver's seat sat a beautiful woman, her head covered in blood. It flowed ceaselessly from a wound on her forehead, filling the air with its thick, coppery smell—Death was closing in on her, step by step.
She was severely injured and trapped in the car, unable to move. All she could do was lean weakly against the seat back, gazing out the window in terror.
The window glass had been smashed to pieces.
She watched the man walk toward her, step by step. His bearing was as elegant as ever, his posture as ramrod straight as ever, his smile as captivating as ever—this man had once been the love of her life.
But now, she finally understood. He was nothing less than a demon.
Separated by the car door, he covered his nose with a white handkerchief, then wiped his hands before saying with a faint smile, "I was originally going to let you live. After all, I spent a great deal of silver turning you into an A-list actress at the peak of her fame. A pity you sought death yourself, just like your second and third sisters. All of you seem to enjoy courting disaster... Very well. In that case, you can't blame me for being ruthless. A person's fate can change in a single moment... Stella Lockwood, this is your fate. You have to accept it..."
Stella Lockwood struggled, her eyes flashing with horrified rage. She finally managed to cry out, "My... my second sister, and my third sister... you... you killed them all?"
The man's smile was radiant. "That's right. I was there when your second sister was being tortured. When your third sister jumped into the sea, I gave her a little push. She didn't want to live anymore, anyway... Oh, right, and your youngest sister, the one who never got along with you? The reason she went insane is that she saw something she wasn't supposed to see..."
"Why? Why would you do this?" she screamed, nearly hysterical. But she didn't realize that due to massive blood loss, her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"Because of your father." The man leaned in closer, enunciating every word. "Because he offended someone he shouldn't have. You and your sisters were doomed from the start. Stella Lockwood, don't blame me for being cruel. Rest in peace... I'll miss your body... You're a true masterpiece of The Mortal Realm, but a pity you were never qualified to be my wife..."
His words were delivered with a smile, yet each one was a dagger to the heart.
Stella Lockwood desperately tried to push the car door open, to take this heartless, treacherous man down with her, but she could only watch as he turned and walked away with elegant grace.
"See her off..."
Three words, bone-chillingly cold.
"Yes, sir."
A moment after the word was spoken, the same truck that had sent Stella Lockwood's car flying charged toward her once again.
Bathed in the glare of two dazzling headlights, she saw the already cracked windshield shatter into dust in an instant. Sharp shards of glass flew into her eyes, and as pain seared through her, her world went black. Her consciousness began to fade, but the resentment in her heart only grew deeper and more profound.
She wanted to kill this terrible man.
She wanted to find out who her father had offended, who could be so powerful as to cause the tragic deaths of all three of his daughters even so many years after his own passing.
An hour later, a shocking piece of news blanketed the entire internet:
"Movie megastar Stella Lockwood, driving under the influence, collided with a truck at the intersection of New East Ring Road. The driver died on impact. Stella Lockwood perished in the ensuing blaze, the raging fire burning her beyond recognition... A superstar actress of her generation, dead at twenty-eight. Her difficult and tumultuous life has come to a close..."
*
Stella Lockwood was dead.
She was sure she had been burned alive—she had seen it with her own eyes. When the paramedics extinguished the flames engulfing the Maserati, her physical body had already been burned to a blackened crisp. Her heart ached with regret. She hated herself for loving the wrong man, for trusting the wrong person. In the end, she could only watch as her loved ones died one by one, until finally, she too met a tragic end.
Eventually, they took her body away. The major media outlets, her new agent, her fans—they all followed the ambulance as it left, leaving only her standing there, all alone.
No, to be precise, she was floating in the air.
She didn't know how long she floated there, until a black Audi appeared at the crash site.
A man in a black trench coat got out of the back seat. He strode over to the crash scene, which was cordoned off with police tape, and carefully examined the black skid marks left by the tires. After surveying the area for a long moment, he came to a cold conclusion: "This was murder. Stella Lockwood was intentionally murdered."
She was too far away to see his face clearly, but his voice was somewhat familiar—and it was a voice she had always found repulsive.
"Sir, what are your orders?" his assistant asked softly.
"Blood for blood." The man ground out the three words from between his teeth as he slowly turned around. "I will make that person die without a burial place..."
A streetlight illuminated the man's face—a handsome, heroic face with sharp, defined features—and Stella Lockwood stared, mesmerized.
'How... How could it be him?'
'This man, who had always tried to break up her "perfect match," who had constantly caused her trouble when she was alive, was now going to avenge her after her death?'
'Why?'
She tried to follow him, but she was suddenly sucked away by a beam of light and instantly lost consciousness.
When she opened her eyes again, someone was pulling her ear, and an angry roar filled the air. "Stella Lockwood, do you even want to be a star anymore? I told you to cause me less trouble, to stay out of trouble, and what do you do? You go and get yourself mixed up in a scandal like this! Are you trying to kill me...?"
In her line of sight, her agent—who was also her third sister, Serena Lockwood—was yelling at her nonstop. This was the sister who had jumped into the sea to her death, yet here she was, vibrant with anger, throwing a tantrum and pulling her ear.
She froze. 'Wait, what's going on?'
She quickly dodged away, rubbing her ear and crying out, "W-w-what... What scandal?"
"See for yourself..." Serena Lockwood tossed a tablet at her.
Stella Lockwood's eyes first went to the date: September 2014.
'Holy crap,' she thought. 'I've... I've actually gone back six years in time.'
To put it simply: she had been reborn.