The rain came down in sheets the night she died. One second, she was gripping the handlebars of her motorbike with her usual confident smirk, racing down a mountain road at full throttle. The next, the wheels skidded on the slick curve, a truck swerved out of nowhere, and everything went dark.
That should have been the end of Zara Kim. Twenty-four, bold, brilliant, and a little too in love with adrenaline. But death had other plans. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't on the asphalt. She was in silk sheets that smelled faintly of mildew and forgotten perfume.
Her limbs felt heavy. Her throat, dry. Her heart thudded sluggishly in her chest, like it wasn't quite sure it belonged there. The room was dim, but opulent in a way that screamed old money. She recognized that kind of luxury anywhere—velvet drapes, antique furniture, marble floors polished to a cruel gleam. She didn't know this room, but her instincts stirred.
It was the body that wasn't hers.
Zara staggered to the mirror, clinging to the nearest dresser as though the ground might disappear. The reflection staring back at her was striking—almond-shaped amber-green eyes, high cheekbones, pouty lips, and flawless skin with a rich, golden glow. She looked like temptation wrapped in skin. Her dark hair fell in tumbling waves down her back, and her curves were... well, generous.
She stared. Blinked. Laughed a little. "Damn," she murmured, voice raspier than usual. "Did death make me hotter?"
A sudden pounding headache made her drop to her knees. Flashes of memory—not hers—invaded her mind. Amina Kim. Heiress. Orphan. Betrayed. Abandoned. Bullied by greedy relatives who wanted to tear her family's fortune apart like hyenas on a carcass.
And now, she understood. She'd transmigrated into Amina Kim's body. The girl had died from a fever, alone and unloved, in her family's mansion. A soft death for a girl who'd wanted revenge but didn't know how to get it.
Well. Zara knew exactly what to do.
She stood. Cracked her neck. Adjusted the baggy t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, the cotton soft against her still-sensitive skin. A pair of shorts clung to her hips, and her feet were tucked into fluffy house slippers. Despite the casual ensemble, she looked absolutely sinful.
Today, she would clean house.
She moved through the villa like a storm, eyes scanning everything with calculated sharpness. She called the servants, one by one, watching the flickers of fear cross their faces as they realized she wasn't the timid Amina anymore.
"Who replaced the security system?" she asked a middle-aged butler, who had once called her an idiot behind closed doors.
He stammered. "I... the Second Master ordered it. Your uncle."
Her smile was slow. Dangerous. "How thoughtful."
She fired him on the spot.
The cook? Poisoned her meals with slow-acting toxins at the aunt's request. Gone. The maid who rifled through her clothes? Fired with a slap so loud it echoed. One after another, she dragged secrets into the light and left ruin behind her.
Then came the relatives. They came in like they owned the place—uncles in cheap suits pretending to be saviors, aunts with plastic smiles offering to "guide her" during her grief.
"Sweetie, you're still young," one of them crooned. "Why don't you let us manage your shares?"
Zara tilted her head. "You mean steal them?"
The slap she delivered to the woman's face knocked off a diamond earring. Gasps rang out. No one moved.
"Let me be clear," she said, voice calm, sweet. "You leeches have thirty minutes to get out of this house. Anything left behind will be burned. Including your pride."
They underestimated her. Thought she'd gone mad from grief. But when she called the family lawyer and showed him the notarized documents already reassigning all assets to her, they knew.
This wasn't Amina Kim anymore.
By nightfall, the mansion was quiet. Clean. Hers.
She poured herself a glass of chilled wine, settled on a velvet couch, and stared out at the city skyline. There was something sharp in her chest, some strange new awareness tugging at the edge of her mind.
Then it happened.
A soft chime echoed in the room. A translucent screen appeared before her eyes, hovering midair.
[Base System Activated.]
[Host Identified: Zara Kim. Binding successful. Welcome, Commander.]
She blinked. Sipped her wine. A smile tugged at her lips.
"Well," she murmured, "isn't that sexy."
The screen blinked again.
[Main Quest: Establish Primary Base. Estimated timeline: 6 months. Reward: Survival. Power. Domination. And a system-crafted reverse harem.]
Zara threw her head back and laughed.
"Oh baby," she whispered, eyes glinting. "Let's build an empire."