Chapter 3

Lily snapped back to reality, shaking off my hand as if burned, stumbling back two steps.

Her face was ashen, and the look in her eyes was no longer feigned affection, but fear, as if I were the grim reaper come for her soul.

"Next up, contestant number 32, Lily. Please prepare to go on stage."

Lily's body wouldn't stop shaking.

I watched her with composure, even helping to smooth a non-existent wrinkle on her dance dress.

"Go on, Lily."

"Use my talent to win your championship."

I bit off those words lightly, yet they landed like heavy hammers on her heart.

She stared with wide, terrified eyes, her lips moving, but not a sound came out.

The staff urged her on.

She was half-pushed, half-coaxed onto the stage.

The moment the spotlight hit her, I sat in the shadows of the side curtain, clearly seeing the cold sweat on her face.

The music began, "The Dying Swan."

In my previous life, I won the gold medal with this dance, rising to fame overnight.

Lily's body moved.

My talent was showcased perfectly through her. Every pirouette, every leap, was textbook precise.

The technique was impeccable.

The judges and audience gasped in admiration.

My parents, Robert and Eleanor, and Julian Smith sat in the front row, their faces alight with undisguised surprise and pride.

But I saw it clearly.

Her eyes were hollow, her movements stiff, filled with a terrifying lack of control over her own body.

She wasn't a white swan, but a puppet manipulated by invisible strings.

With the final pirouette, she stopped steadily, her posture perfect.

Applause thundered through the hall.

But she looked utterly drained, almost collapsing to her knees.

Soon, it was my turn.

I switched to music for another dance, light-hearted and full of vitality.

After I broke my leg in my previous life, I choreographed countless dances from my wheelchair. This was one of my proudest creations.

I danced with abandon, pouring all my emotions into every step.

Until the final, challenging series of turns.

In my previous life, it was here that the drug took effect, and my life came crashing down.

This time, I counted the beats.

Three, two, one.

I deliberately twisted my ankle, letting my body fall forward.

But I used a clever move, rolling once on the floor to absorb most of the impact.

A gasp.

The music abruptly stopped.

The entire hall fell silent.

I pushed myself up, trying to stand, a sharp stab of pain in my ankle.

Hmm, a sprain.

Not serious, a month's rest would fix it.

My parents and Julian rushed over immediately, surrounding me.

"Clara! What happened to you?!" My mom, Eleanor, cried, her voice tinged with sharp reprimand.

"How could you be so careless!"

My dad, Robert, frowned, telling the assistant directly, "Call an ambulance, get her to the hospital for a check-up."

Julian held my arm, his voice sounding very anxious.

"Clara, are you okay? Don't be afraid, I'm here."

Worry was etched on their faces.

But when I looked up, I saw all three of their gazes involuntarily drift past my shoulder, to behind me.

There, Lily stood in the center of the stage, clutching the newly awarded champion's trophy.

She was the only star tonight.

Julian supported me, his grip steady, his voice as gentle as ever.

"Don't be sad, it's just a competition."

He said, but his gaze was glued to Lily, the admiration in his eyes almost overflowing.

Yet, I keenly caught a flash of appraisal deep within his look.

That wasn't the way a man looked at his beloved.

It was the way a businessman sized up a commodity.

A cold laugh echoed in my mind.

See, Julian.

He never loved Clara, nor Lily.

He loved, always, the item that could stand in the spotlight, adding luster to him.

As I was thinking, Julian suddenly leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"Clara, Lily's talent… it seems even better than yours."

His voice carried a hint of barely perceptible excitement.

I lowered my eyes, concealing the mockery within them.

"Yes."

"She's dancing for her life, after all."