I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed this big. Maybe... never. Back then, my room was cramped, my bed was cramped, and my dreams were cramped too.
Now, I wake up in a world that feels like a Korean drama—but real. I can see my reflection in a luxurious glass cabinet. This face belongs to Adelina Gavrila. Pale white skin, big eyes, and long black hair that falls perfectly on her shoulders. Beautiful. Rich. Spoiled. But now her soul has been replaced with me—a former supermarket cashier who never even had a credit card.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Adelina, it's me, Livia. May I come in?"
A soft voice, like a personal assistant's voice. I agreed. A middle-aged woman in neat clothes entered while carrying clothes in her hands.
"These are casual clothes for today, Miss. Mr. Nathan has gone to the office. He said you can take a short walk in the park so you don't get bored in your room."
I nodded, still stiff.
"Have you worked here long?" I asked.
"Since you were little. I was the one who prepared all your kindergarten uniforms," she said with a proud smile.
I froze. This world wasn't mine.
Gavrila's family garden couldn't be called a garden. This was... a private version of a city garden. Large trees were neatly arranged, flowers bloomed like they were in a catalog, and there was a small pond with white swans swimming. On one side, there was a small pavilion.
A place to drink tea? Maybe.
I sat on a park bench, trying to digest everything.
Adelina lived in a modern European-style mansion, complete with four floors, a private elevator, a swimming pool, a library, and—I couldn't believe it—a private yoga room. There were more than ten servants in this house, and all of them treated me like expensive porcelain that could easily be broken.
But this world wasn't just about a grand house. Adel's world was also full of pressure. A vague memory that emerged in my head said: that our every move was covered by the media. Gavrila's family was an icon. They had shares in technology companies, property, and even the entertainment industry. One small scandal could become headline news.
And now, I, the former ordinary girl, am caught in the middle.
During lunch, I start to dare to explore the house.
On the second floor, I find Nathan's study. The door is slightly ajar. I peek in. Neat, masculine, minimalist. There's only one family photo: Nathan and Adel as children, hugging. On his desk are some documents, and... a small black diary that isn't fully closed.
I know I shouldn't read. But my hands move on their own.
May 10.
Adel hasn't woken up yet. Every hour feels like a year. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't come back.
May 12.
I have to appear calm. But inside, I'm devastated. she's the only reason I wake up every morning.
I quickly close it. My heart is pounding. It begins to dawn on me—Nathan doesn't just love Adel as a little sister. He loves her in a way that's never been said... but is too obvious to ignore.
That afternoon, I finally met my first visitor since I woke up: a young man my age, tall, thin, with messy brown hair. He came in carrying a stack of books.
"I heard you woke up. Finally!" he said cheerfully. "Don't you remember me? I'm Tristan, your childhood best friend. We went to the same school, remember?"
I smiled stiffly. "Sorry, I'm still a bit... blank."
He wasn't offended. He laughed instead.
"No wonder. You crashed hard. But luckily you're okay. Nathan almost burned down the hospital because of stress," he said while sitting on the sofa in the reading room.
Tristan continued to tell me. About the elite school where we used to study, about the children of conglomerates whose lives were full of drama, and about Nathan—a figure who he said rarely showed emotion... unless it was about me.
"You're like the center of his world. Sometimes I think he's a brother who's too... extreme," he said softly. "I wonder too, how come you're comfortable being treated like that."
I didn't answer. Because I was also asking the same thing.
That night, Nathan came home. His suit was still neat, but his eyes were tired. He went straight into my room.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Hard," I answered honestly. "Everyone knows me. But I don't know them. This house… is too big. This world is foreign."
He came closer, sitting on the side of my bed.
"If you're not ready, I can let you homeschool first. Or go on vacation. Or to our villa in Switzerland. Just tell me."
I looked into his eyes. Serious. Warm. Too caring.
"Nathan… why do you care so much about me?"
He was silent for a long time.
"Why do you think?"
I looked down. My heart was pounding.
"Because you're my brother?"
He smiled. But not a happy smile. More like… a sad smile.
"Yes. Brother."
Then he stood up, kissed my forehead like a parent to a child, and said,
"I'll always be by your side, Del. No matter what happens."
I knew this world was full of luxury, influence, and power.
But inside all that, there was something much more complicated: feelings. The feelings of someone who was supposed to be an older brother... but looked at me in a way that was so
much more than that.
And me?
I don't know yet... if I can refuse him.