"Stop arguing. I'll marry."
The words cut through the noisy living room like a blade.
Valentina, seated beside the tall window, finally spoke.
Her temples throbbed. The overlapping voices downstairs—complaints, persuasion, crying, calculation—had been drilling into her skull for over an hour. She had endured enough.
For a moment, silence followed.
Then—
"Really?!"
Her adoptive mother shot up from the leather sofa as if struck by lightning. Any trace of suspicion vanished instantly, replaced by uncontrollable joy. She didn't even ask why. She didn't care how. All she heard was compliance.
"Good, good, good!" the woman exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement. "As long as you're willing, everything else can be arranged. Our family will never mistreat you. You just—"
Before the sentence could end, Valentina had already turned and walked upstairs.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The celebration downstairs didn't stop. If anything, it grew louder—relieved laughter, hurried footsteps, voices full of satisfaction.
Valentina leaned her back against the door, exhaled slowly, and raised her mental barrier.
Silence returned.
She crossed the room and pushed open the window. Cold air rushed in, carrying the faint metallic scent unique to this city.
In the distance, the Green Tower stood tall.
Its spire housed a massive emerald core, glowing endlessly. Rays of green light spilled outward day and night, forming a dome that blanketed the city below.
The Safe Zone.
Beyond that light—
The Contamination Zones.
Three days ago, those words meant nothing to her.
Three days ago, Valentina had been fighting zombies.
She had been a frontline commander in a ruined world, leading a team through abandoned skyscrapers. They had cleared an infested high-rise, preparing to convert it into a new base. Victory was close.
Then she misstepped.
From the 108th floor, she fell.
No dramatic last words. No miracle.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
When she opened her eyes again, she was kneeling outside this very room. A trembling girl cried behind her, while two adults scolded her viciously.
It took hours for the memories to settle.
She hadn't died.
She had transmigrated.
This world wasn't ruled by zombies.
Instead, it was plagued by Mutated Creatures and Contamination Zones—areas warped by unknown energy where humans couldn't survive unprotected.
Humanity had adapted.
And in adapting, they had changed.
Instead of guns and blades alone, two extraordinary classes had emerged:
Sentinels and Guides.
Sentinels were monsters in human form—bodies honed beyond limits, senses sharpened to terrifying levels. On the battlefield, they were unstoppable.
But power came at a cost.
Their heightened perception often overloaded their minds, leading to loss of control—berserking, madness, and even mutation.
Guides existed to prevent that.
They were physically fragile, but their mental strength was immense. Through mental links, they stabilized Sentinels, soothed their senses, and anchored them to reality.
Together, they fought for the Empire.
This body—Valentina's new body—had differentiated into a Guide at fourteen.
From that day forward, her life had been mapped out with ruthless precision.
She studied etiquette, gardening, tea brewing, cooking—everything required to become a perfect ornamental Guide. Mental guidance lessons were slotted neatly between domestic training.
Her future was marriage.
Her groom had already been chosen.
A noble Sentinel named Shao An, son of an Imperial Duke.
A man who had never seen a battlefield.
A life that ended before it even began.
Then, one month ago, everything collapsed.
A ragged girl appeared at the family gates, claiming to be the real daughter.
Genetic tests followed.
The results were undeniable.
Valentina was not their biological child.
Overnight, she went from "beloved daughter" to "replacement."
Her room was reassigned. Her parents' warmth vanished. Even her engagement was quietly discussed as transferable property.
The original owner of this body—raised in luxury, trained to obey—couldn't endure the fall.
In desperation, she attempted to attack the real daughter using her weak mental power.
She failed catastrophically.
The backlash destroyed her mind.
And that was where Valentina arrived.
Now, standing by the window, she rubbed her temples.
She tried again—summoning the spirit body that Guides were said to possess.
Nothing.
No response.
For three days, she had tried.
Silence every time.
Before she could analyze further, a knock interrupted her thoughts.
The door opened slightly.
A girl stepped inside, dressed in an expensive pink lace gown, hands clutching the hem as if afraid it would vanish.
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
"Sister…" she whispered. "I'm sorry. I know it should've been you. I never wanted to take him from you. But Mom and Dad insisted, and I—I couldn't refuse…"
The performance was flawless.
Valentina had seen this scene countless times in novels she once read during quiet nights in the apocalypse.
She already knew what came next.
Parents rushing in.
Accusations.
Moral pressure.
So she acted first.
"If you want him, he's yours."
The words came fast and sharp.
She physically pushed the girl back out the door.
"Goodbye."
Footsteps froze outside.
Voices approached.
Too late.
She had no interest in competing for affection—or men she'd never met.
That fiancé? A stranger.
In the memories left behind, the former Valentina had adored him obsessively, humiliating herself for scraps of attention.
He had never once looked back.
Whoever wanted him could have him.
What disgusted her more was the family's hypocrisy.
They had arranged two childhood engagements.
One for the favored daughter.
One for the expendable one.
The second groom was a Northern General—disabled, ruthless, infamous. A man rumored to bathe battlefields in blood.
Naturally, that marriage was meant for her.
Convenient.
Cruel.
Efficient.
Valentina laughed quietly.
She climbed out the window and left.
---
The Guide Academy loomed ahead as dusk fell.
At 5:30, the sky burned with red-purple clouds.
Whispers followed her steps.
Mockery.
Gossip.
She ignored them all.
Inside the office, she passed Shao An without a glance.
Didn't even slow down.
His brows knit together.
Something felt wrong.
The teacher shoved a form at her, expression cold.
"Fill it out."
The change in attitude was obvious.
Valentina picked up the pen.
The teacher snatched another application away, sneering. "Some people should know their place."
Valentina checked a single option.
Then she looked up.
"Teacher," she said calmly, "there's a surgical technique for treating uncontrolled mouths. If you ever need it, I can help."
The room plunged into icy silence.
A cold, unseen pressure spread outward—like invisible tentacles crawling across the floor.
The teacher's face drained of color.
Her body shook.
For the first time, fear replaced arrogance.
And Valentina smiled.