Five to thirty years.
That's the span of time I've been reliving, over and over again. This is my fifth time waking up in my 12-year-old body, exactly 13 months before the apocalypse.
Rolling over, I glance at the mirror on the wall. It's a familiar face staring back at me—smooth skin, delicate features—but now there are two moles under my left eye and one under my right. My sharp, mature gaze feels out of place on a face this young. It's a strange juxtaposition that only someone who's lived through what I have would understand.
I lie in bed for a few minutes, letting the weight of everything settle, before stretching and stepping onto the cold floor. As I make my way into my lavish en-suite bathroom, I'm reminded of the absurd wealth my family enjoyed in this timeline. The bathtub alone could comfortably fit ten people. I turn on the tap, the sound of rushing water filling the room, and close my eyes.
"System," I call out, expecting the familiar interface to appear. Silence.
Opening my eyes, I blink in surprise. Could it really be gone? After all this time, have I finally rid myself of that omnipresent nuisance? My thoughts race. What about the space? Hesitant, I try to enter.
The familiar scenery materializes around me: to my right, the sparkling lake ripples gently in the sunlight; to my left, rows of crops stretch toward the horizon. The farm is thriving, just as I left it. I walk toward the barn to check on the animals—each one well-fed and in perfect health. Near the barn are several pools teeming with life—freshwater shrimp, fish, and even eels dart through the water.
The air here is serene, untouched by the chaos of the outside world. Inside the house within the space, I grab a small jar of herbs mixed with the space's water. The water doesn't have miraculous healing properties, but its abundance of nutrients and beautifying effects are nothing to scoff at.
Exiting the space, I return to the steaming bathtub. Testing the water, it's a touch too hot, but manageable. I pour half the jar into the bath and sink into its warmth. Within moments, my body heats up, and the familiar sensation begins—dark, viscous gunk seeps out of my pores, purging impurities accumulated over multiple lifetimes.
After draining the tub, I step into the shower to rinse off, letting the clean water wash away the remnants. Stepping out, I catch my reflection in the mirror and grin. My skin is porcelain-smooth, glowing with vitality. My lips are a deep crimson, a stark contrast to my raven-black hair, which falls to my shoulders in glossy waves. My phoenix-shaped eyes are dark now, but I know they'll turn a striking emerald green when the apocalypse begins.
No matter how many lifetimes I live, one thing remains constant: my obsession with beauty. Maturity has made me more self-aware, but my vanity and ego are as unshakable as ever.
Dressed and ready for the day, I glance at the clock. It's 8 a.m. Time to check on the little ones.
I head down the hall to my younger siblings' room, but before I reach the door, I spot Mrs. Chen. A black-hearted, money-grubbing woman, she was responsible for my death in my first life. Despite my hatred for her, I've already taken my revenge in previous lives. Now, she's little more than a nuisance.
"Mrs. Chen," I call out, my tone calm but firm. "I'm informing you that my siblings and I will be moving to A City in a week. Your services will no longer be needed."
Her face twists in shock, but before she can speak, I cut her off. "You'll receive 900,000 MNB (about 1 million USD) as severance pay." I pull out my phone, transfer the amount, and hear the buzz of her notification. She stares at her phone, her mouth agape.
"Before you leave, please prepare breakfast and boxed lunches for us," I add, dismissing her with a wave.
I push open the door to my siblings' room. The sight warms me. My 5-year-old twins, Nao and Bao, are tangled in their blankets, while my youngest, 2-year-old Xue, sleeps soundly in her crib.
"Nao! Bao! Time to wake up!" I say, kissing their foreheads. They stir groggily as I head to the bathroom to run their bath. I pour most of the remaining space water into the tub and a small amount into a custom baby bath for Xue.
"Xue, it's time to wake up, too," I say softly, nuzzling her tiny face.
"Dàgē, are you bathing us today?" Nao asks, her voice thick with sleep.
"Yes, I am. Now, hop into the tub with Bao while I wash Xue. Afterward, I'll help you brush your hair into pigtails—just the way you like!"
Nao squeals in excitement, darting to the tub and splashing in. I carefully wash and rinse Xue before dressing her in a pastel one-piece with matching bows. She looks adorable, her round cheeks flushed from the warm water. Nao and Bao emerge from the tub dressed in matching sunflower-inspired outfits, their hair styled perfectly.
"Let's go eat breakfast," I announce. "Then we'll fly to A City for some shopping!"
The twins cheer, their excitement contagious. Even little Xue claps her hands, though she doesn't fully understand.
Breakfast is a feast: fruit salad, eggs Benedict, toast, fresh orange juice, and milk for the kids. I enjoy a creamy, sweet decaf coffee.
As we eat, my mind churns with plans. My account holds 345,000,000 MNB, and I've already decided to purchase three apartments in a high-security building—the 15th, 16th, and 17th floors. Each unit costs around 1,300,000 MNB, excluding renovations. I'll stockpile supplies, design comfortable rooms, and prepare for the chaos ahead.
"Mouse!" I call, and our Kangal Shepherd comes bounding into the room. Soon, he'll mutate into a massive beast, his bark capable of generating shockwaves. For now, he's just a loyal companion with a wagging tail.
Strapping Xue into her car seat-stroller hybrid, I ensure the twins and Mouse are ready before making a call to my uncle.
"Hello," comes his gruff voice.
"Uncle, I'm selling my father's, mother's, and my stocks. The minimum price is 800,000,000 MNB," I state.
"Done," he replies without hesitation.
I add, "I'll also need a custom military-grade Range Rover and a connection to the Jiang Mercenary Group. Meet me tomorrow at 9 a.m. in A City at the XXXX Hotel, room 1801."
After hanging up, I make arrangements with a realtor for the apartments and prepare for the day ahead.
By the time we reach A City, it's 11 a.m. We eat lunch, walk Mouse, and head to the largest mall. As we stroll through the bustling corridors, heads turn wherever we go. I revel in the attention. Nao looks like a delicate fairy, Bao like a princely knight, and Xue, with her fox-like features, is a vision of future beauty.
The apocalypse looms, but for now, life is a momentary idyll.