The rope was cutting into her wrists again.

April had stopped pulling against it twenty minutes ago, or maybe it had been an hour, and time had gone strange since they left. 

The zip ties they had used on her ankles were the heavy-duty kind, the orange ones they had looted from a hardware store three weeks ago. She knew exactly which store. After all, she had been the one to find them.

But she never thought she would be the one it would be used on in the end.

The street around her was quiet. People don't roam around much, not with the infestations and danger levels. So, the world was mostly always quiet now. Though not peaceful, but hollow, like the silence itself was holding its breath. 

The afternoon sun sat low and ugly behind a sky the color of a bruise, casting everything in that reddish-brown light that she had stopped being able to look at directly because it made every surface look like it was bleeding. Two cars sat abandoned in the middle of the road, doors hanging open. A child's dirty, abandoned sneaker lay near the curb. Just one. You don't have to wonder where the other one went. 

Maybe they ate it… along with the child. Or maybe the child got away with it.

April kept her eyes on the sneaker. It was easier than looking at the pole they had tied her to.

"Someone will come back," she whispered, though her voice came out smaller than she intended. "They just needed to get clear. Someone will come back."

She was shivering, even as she tried to convince herself of this.

Lena had not looked at her when they tied her up. That was the thing April kept returning to, turning over in her mind like a stone she couldn't put down. Lena, whom April had carried on her back for two kilometers when she, Lena, sprained her ankle. Lena, whom April had given her last tin of sardines to, because Lena had said she felt faint. Lena had stood behind Cai the whole time, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She had looked at the ground and had not said a single word. That was some comfort.

It had been Cai who crouched down in front of April with that calm, reasonable expression he always wore when he had already made up his mind and just needed to explain it to you like you were slow to understand or hard of hearing.

"We need to draw them east," he had said. "You understand that, right? If we don't split the herd, none of us makes it to the checkpoint. This is the only way."

April was scared. She was trembling and scared. Her fingers had been shaking so badly, but she clasped them tightly together.

"T-Then… You could leave supplies," April had said. Her voice had been steady then, even though her fingers were shaking. She had still believed, at that point, that there was a version of this conversation where she walked away. "Cut the ties loose after. Give me a chance to run."

Cai had looked at her with something that might have been pity, if pity had anything warm left in it. "The noise needs to last," he said. "You understand, don't you?"

Then he had stood up, and they had walked away. Mei had been the only one who looked back, but even Mei had kept walking.

"W-wait, you… You have to come back." April stuttered, reaching her bound hands over and pulling her body, but her ankles were joined together and bound to a pole. "You… you have to. Come back!!!"

April had screamed for a while after that, her heart wrenching in fear. Why did she let them do this to her? It wasn't like she wanted to be a scapegoat. They… they voted. They all thought she would be a better bait and told her to be obedient.

She was stupid. So stupid, but she… she just wanted to survive.

Her breath came out in heavy and uneven hitches, listening to the heavy pounding of her heartbeat.

And then, she stayed silent, staring at the sneaker, still trying to assure herself that they would come back.

And then after a while, the fear and anxiety of the quiet streets and uncertainty clawed at her heart, causing her heart to beat even faster.

It had been hours, she was sure. And they were not back yet. What if they don't come back? What if they leave her here? What if… what if…? What if the zombies come first?

Her panicked pupils dilated, shaking violently, and then she began to scream.

"CAI!" The name ripped out of her throat, raw and ragged, bouncing off the empty storefronts and dying in the dead air. "CAI, PLEASE! LENA! LENA, COME BACK!"

But nothing answered her. Not even an echo.

She wasn't ashamed of the screaming. She yanked at the zip ties until she felt the skin on her wrists split open, until warm blood was running down into her palms and making her grip slick and useless. She kept pulling anyway, yelling, and screaming, "MEI! MEI, I KNOW YOU'RE STILL CLOSE, PLEASE—"

Her voice broke on the last word and dissolved into something that wasn't language anymore. She cried the way she hadn't cried since she was a child — heaving, ugly, breathless sobs that bent her forward against the rope, snot and tears running freely down her face, her whole body shaking so hard the pole rattled faintly against the concrete behind her.

When the crying burned itself out, she started bargaining. Out loud, to no one, to the empty street and the hollow windows staring down at her.

"I'll take less food," she said. Her voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper. "I won't—I won't complain about the portions anymore, I swear. I'll scout ahead. Every day, alone, I'll go first. You won't even have to ask me." She swallowed. "I'll be more useful. I know I haven't been—I know I've been slow lately, I know I have, but I can do better. I can do better, just—"

She stopped.

The street said nothing back, and it killed her.

"Please," she whispered to no one, biting her bottom lip as her face bunched in fear. "Please don't leave me here." She whispered, but even then, nobody came back.

Well, no living human came back, because something did come.

A zombie.

The first zombie came around the corner of the intersection.

It had been a man once, heavyset, still wearing a reflective construction vest over a shirt that had gone completely black with old blood. 

It moved the way they all moved when they hadn't caught a scent yet—that loose, rolling shuffle, head swinging side to side. April pressed herself back against the pole and stopped breathing, her hands pressed to her mouth.

Zombies have bad eyesight. So if she just… stays quiet… but how could she stay absolutely quiet when she was so scared?

Her breathing was too heavy, and the way she was shaking rattled the pole, causing the zombie to swing its head toward her.

The zombie started coming faster, knowing she was there, and she couldn't even pretend to stay quiet.

She started screaming again, because there was nothing else left to do. Pure animal sound, no words in it. Calling out, pleading… Begging…

The construction worker lurched into a run, and she heard more sounds from further down the street—that wet, rattling chorus that meant more were turning toward the noise, exactly as Cai had planned, because he was always right about things like this, tactically, strategically, and that was why they had followed him, and that was why she had believed him when he said she was part of the team.

The zombie reached her and opened its rotten mouth. She kicked and swung her joined fists, but it did no good. The first bite took her in the shoulder, and the pain was so gruesome but for a second it didn't feel like pain at all, just pressure, just wrongness, the world rearranging itself around a fact it hadn't asked her permission for. 

Then the nerve signals caught up, and she heard herself making a sound she didn't recognize as human.

More of them reached her. Two, three, four… ten… She stopped being able to count, the pain and the fear grilling her completely.

At some point, between one ragged breath and the next, April found herself thinking about a morning ten years ago—standing at a window in a cramped attic room, watching the family she worked for hold their daughter in the courtyard below. 

She had been so angry that morning. She had gone back downstairs and finished the ironing and had not said a word to anyone about what was eating her alive from the inside.

She wanted to leave then, while everyone was joyous and merry. Steal some money and leave. If that had happened, would she have been in a different situation now? Would she have found people who actually cared about her in this damned world?

What a waste, she thought, in the strange calm that had settled over her as her body began to stop registering the damage, ripped apart in several directions, zombies fighting for scraps of her flesh. It was a complete and total waste of a life.

The last thing she saw was the sky. That terrible, bruised, reddish-brown sky, sitting heavy and indifferent over everything.

Then the teeth found her throat, and the sky went dark. April died on a street whose name she had never learned, tied to a pole, alone.

She had not been anyone's protagonist. She was never a main character.

She had just been useful to those who were, until she wasn't.

...

April snapped her eyes open. Her hand flew to her neck immediately, her fingers clawing frantically at her throat as if trying to rip away the teeth that had just been burying into her flesh. 

She heaved for air, her chest rising and falling violently as her hands roamed over to her shoulder and different parts of her body. She was whole. Her flesh and body parts were intact.

But… but the zombies…

Her wide, frantic eyes darted to scan her surroundings for more incoming zombies, only to find herself in a room. 

And there was nothing there. No blood, and no zombies.

Instead, a bright ray of morning light coming from the window caught her attention, piercing through the dim space.

She squinted her eyes for a second. The sun was too bright, even when just filtering into the room. It didn't feel right. It felt fake. She sat there, still panting, squinting at the light like it would go away if she squinted hard enough, but when it didn't, she asked herself, "Is this where people go when they are… dead?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

Just a second ago, she had been torn apart. She could still feel the phantom sensation of her skin being ripped away. She looked away from the window and forced herself to look around the room.

This was her room. It was the tiny, cramped attic space she had lived in years ago. It was still just as small and miserable as she remembered.

"Is this a dream?" she muttered to herself, her hands shaking. "Am I dreaming right before I die? Is this what happens when your brain shuts down?"

She knew those things where they say at the moment of your death, you relive a moment you either regret the most, or deem as the happiest in your life.

But April had never had any happy memories, so this was likely the memory of the moment she regretted the most.

But then… Why was it taking so long?

She closed her eyes tightly for a second, her mind instantly flashing back to the zombie apocalypse. She remembered the sheer chaos, the blood-red sky, the monsters roaming the streets, and how the entire world had turned completely upside down. 

There was absolutely no way she could still be sitting safely in this room while all of that madness was going on outside.

She waited. If this were a last moment recollection, it should be over the moment she opens her eyes.

But when she opened her eyes again, that ray of unfiltered morning light was still there. The room was still clean there, and nothing was dissolving like dreams did.

She took a deep breath. A deep, fresh breath that didn't seem damp, acidic, or metallic with blood and rot. It was all clean. 

She has a theory, a wild one that she would definitely laugh at herself for. But given the situation…

"Could this really be…?"

Ding.

A sudden, crisp chiming sound rang directly into her ears. April flinched as a glowing screen opened right in front of her face. It looked just like the status screens you see in an RPG game—blue, slightly translucent, and filled with white text.

April blinked two more times, leaning back against the wall. "What on earth is this? Am I going crazy?"

The system chimed again, the text shifting and scrolling rapidly before settling into a neat display of her personal data.

[Character Status Screen]

Name: April

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Height: 165 cm

Weight: 50 kg

Status: Healthy (Mildly Malnourished)

Description: A hardworking maid of the Morgan family. Possesses high endurance but suffers from long-term fatigue due to mistreatment and severe stress.

Before she could even process the words, the screen flashed softly, clearing away the basic statistics. A large, bold notification popped up right in the center, accompanied by a much more cheerful chime.

[Congratulations! Host has been granted a second chance at life. Return to the past and rewrite your destiny!]

April stared at the words for a long moment.

Then she laughed. A short, sharp sound, completely without humor. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but it came out anyway—a second laugh, then a third, until her shoulders were shaking and tears were blurring the glowing text in front of her. 

Second chance. 

She had scrubbed the Morgan family's floors for ten years with hands so cracked they bled in winter. She had eaten their leftovers and slept under their leaking roof and told herself every single day that things would get better. But they hadn't. 

And then after that, the world ended. It was horrible, especially for those who had no influence and no way to cope, used as meat shields. For another ten years, she had lived even harder than she did in the Morgans' house.

But all of that was for what? How did it end? 

Yeah, she remembered it clearly because it happened not more than a damn minute ago. Her life had ended with her body being eaten, ripped in different places, and teeth in her throat in a burning street while the sky turned the color of an open wound.

The people whom she thought cared about her and had done her all for, had voted to use her as a scapegoat and left her for dead. 

Second chance.

She pressed her palms flat against the mattress to stop her hands from shaking. It took a while, but they finally stopped.

"Okay," she finally whispered, her voice scraped raw. "Okay."

Slowly, she raised her hand, intending to just pass her fingers through the weird system window to see if it was solid or if this was all just a trick as well. The room, she knew, but this system appearing out of nowhere in her past life? She did not.

So, all of this was definitely just an illusion; her death moment was playing tricks on her, trying to give her some sort of hope when she was already dead. 

She did not believe she was given a second chance. After all, only main characters got that kind of special perks, and she had never been a main character once in her life.

Her hand did not pass through, and her fingertip made contact with the glowing text instead. A soft click echoed in her head like she had just tapped a smartphone notification.

The screen instantly shifted.

A new menu popped up, displaying today's date in bold letters at the top: May 27, 2016.

Right below the date, a neat list of events started scrolling down, mapping out everything that had already happened today and what was supposed to happen next. It looked like a detailed timeline of her past life, staring right back at her.

"May 2016..." April whispered, her eyes widening as she stared at the numbers.

This… wasn't this exactly ten years before the world ended? No, wait. She calculated the time in her head, her breath catching. 

The apocalypse hit in July 2016. She wasn't just ten years back—she was only two months away from the end of the world. But she had been stuck in this house for ten years total.

"If this date is correct, then today is..."

April practically threw the thin, scratchy blanket off her legs. She scrambled down from the mattress and rushed over to the small window. She pressed her hands against the cold glass, her heart pounding against her ribs as she looked down into the courtyard below.

The Morgan family's driveway was packed with luxury cars, their polished hoods glinting in the morning sun. But April's eyes went straight to Madam Morgan, who was openly weeping — not the delicate, dabbing kind of crying, but the heaving, ugly kind, the kind that meant years of grief finally breaking open all at once. 

Master Morgan had his arms around a young girl, whom April had never seen in person, only glimpsed from this same window a decade ago. He was stroking her hair like she was made of something fragile and irreplaceable.

April remembered watching this exact scene the first time and feeling something hollow and hot carve itself into her chest. 

She had just turned twenty-six. She had spent the morning ironing Madam Morgan's dresses, and no one had said good morning to her, and here was a complete stranger being held like she was the most precious thing in the world. 

April had stood at this window for a long time that day. She hadn't cried. She had just gone back downstairs and finished the ironing.

Now, looking at them, she didn't feel an ounce of that old bitterness. Her face was completely wide with disbelief.

Is this for real?

She was starting to believe it. Starting to believe that the weird glowing thing that announced to her that she had gotten a second chance was real and that this was not a dream or an illusion.

"Damn, I really did come back to ten years in the past," she exclaimed, breathless, and then looked away.

Then, that meant that there were indeed two months to the apocalypse, and she was the only one who knew about it. 

These happy ones down there were as oblivious as the rest of the world. Her grip on the window panel hardened as something began to stir inside her. 

"Enjoy it while it lasts," April muttered, a cold smirk touching her lips.

She knew exactly what was going to happen next. This precious daughter was the 'protagonist' of the early days of the apocalypse, and it was all because of a simple jade necklace she was going to receive tonight as a welcome gift. 

In her past life, April had only caught a single glimpse of it before the girl accidentally cut her finger, bled on it, and bound a massive spatial dimension to her soul.

The girl didn't even know what it was before she accepted it, and just thought it was something fancy. But April knew what it was and knew exactly what it was capable of.

The perks of a protagonist, she wanted them, but she absolutely did not want to live like one. This time… she was going to live life like she wanted and not have anyone boss her around or use her as a scapegoat.

This time, it was every man for themselves.

April let out a slow, quiet breath. "That necklace will be mine."

...

April did not spend her time brooding and asking why this system chose her. She didn't even care why it chose to bring her back, but she believed it was because she had suffered way too much in her previous life, and it was high time she got compensated.

She turned away from the window, her back sliding against the wall until she sat down hard on the wooden floorboards.

Just moving her arms made her shoulders ache, a dull reminder of the deep, jagged scars hidden beneath her uniform. 

She reached around, her fingers tracing the rigid, uneven skin on her back through the cheap fabric. She had almost forgotten them since she didn't have time to care about her scars in the apocalypse.

Madam Morgan's favorite leather whip had left those ugly scars. Ten years of her life had been spent here, and most of it was a blur of random punishments, hunger, and bruises that never quite healed.

April gritted her teeth, her knuckles turning white. If she really was back, then she was currently the only person on earth who knew about the impending doom. 

In two months, the world would fall apart. Everyone down there, celebrating in the courtyard, would be screaming for their lives except for the protagonist and all the powerful men who would surround her due to her perks, but April couldn't afford to just sit back and watch it all happen. 

She had to do something.

If she wanted to avoid a tragic, brutal death a second time, she had to be prepared. She needed food, clean water, medical supplies, weapons—an absolute mountain of resources.

But most importantly, shelter. Without a secured roof over her head, she and her resources were just bait for the sharks to attack. 

"But how am I supposed to buy any of it?" she muttered aloud, staring down at her empty hands. "How can I afford a place that'll be so secure from the zombies and people?"

She didn't have a single penny to her name. Her monthly wages were constantly docked by the mistress for broken plates or attitude problems. She was completely broke.

Then, would she have to resort to robbing a bank? Money would be meaningless in two months anyway. But if she gets caught and sent to jail, that's even worse. 

She pressed her lips firmly together. This was a serious case.

Right as the desperation started to creep into her chest, the blue system screen in front of her suddenly flickered, replacing the timeline with a new, glowing interface.

[Ding! System energy fully stabilized.]

[Fortune Telling Feature: 'Eye of Destiny' is now activated.]

[As a novice host, you have been granted 3 free daily insights. Look at any target to view their immediate future or hidden truths.]

[Host can upgrade the number of insights a day based on the level of proficiency.]

April stared at the glowing text, her breath catching in her throat. Fortune telling?

Before she could even question it, a sharp knock rattled her flimsy wooden door, followed by a harsh, impatient voice from the hallway.

"April! Get your lazy ass up! Madam wants the entire first floor scrubbed before the young mistress comes inside, and if there's a single speck of dust, you won't be eating for the next two days!"

That was Matilda, the housekeeper. A mean woman who turned a blind eye to April's suffering. 

April gulped, a familiar rattling setting in her bones, but it only stayed for a split second. She had survived the apocalypse for ten years. There was no way she would be scared of that crazy old witch now.

She just wanted to punch her in the face.

But she couldn't act out. Not yet. She had to first secure the necklace before anything else. That was her main priority.

April opened the door.

​Matilda was standing there, her face pinched into its usual permanent scowl, her arms crossed tight over her chest. 

The moment the wood swung inward, the housekeeper opened her mouth to let out another sharp berating, but the words died in her throat.

​April didn't flinch, like she usually did. She didn't look down at the floorboards, and she didn't offer a hurried, trembling apology either. 

She just stood there, staring directly into Matilda's eyes with a cold, deadpan stillness that she had learned from a decade of staring down things much worse than an angry housekeeper.

​As she looked at the older woman, the blue screen in her vision flickered slightly, a small text box expanding right next to Matilda's head.

[Would you like to read Matilda's fortune?]

April stared at it for a while, blinking. Just like that? 

[Number of insights: 3]

'Ah, I guess I can try it to see if it works.' She thought and subconsciously agreed to it. 

​[Eye of Destiny: Target — Matilda Vance]

​Hidden Truth: Has been systematically skimming $300 from the weekly grocery budget for the past eight months, hiding the cash inside a hollowed-out romance novel under her mattress.

​Immediate Future (Within 2 hours): Will accidentally drop Madam Morgan's favorite porcelain tea set while carrying it to the sunroom, resulting in a severe scolding and a docked salary.

​April's eyes lingered on the floating text for a split second before the screen faded back into transparency. It wasn't the fact that she had just read this woman's fortune out of nowhere, but the money she saw.

Three hundred dollars a week. And yet, whenever a silver spoon went missing, or a pantry count was off, Matilda was always the first to point her crooked finger at April, claiming the 'impoverished rat' was stealing from the hands that fed her.

Meanwhile, this whole time, Matilda had—

​"What are you staring at?" Matilda snapped, her voice dropping into a harsh, venomous whisper. She took a step closer, trying to use her height to intimidate her. "Did you lose your hearing along with your manners? Get downstairs and start on the floors. Madam wants everything spotless for the young mistress. Move!"

​April let out a slow, quiet breath. The familiar rattling in her bones from years of conditioning tried to flare up, but it disappeared just as fast. She had watched cities burn. She had buried people with her bare hands. A petty, bullying housekeeper was nothing anymore.

​"I'll get right on it," April said. Her voice wasn't shaky or submissive. It was flat, entirely empty of emotion.

​Matilda blinked, clearly thrown off by the lack of fear, but she simply scoffed, turned on her heel, and marched down the narrow attic corridor, her heavy footsteps echoing against the floorboards.

​April watched her go, a small, dark spark igniting in her mind. She needed to get closer to the long-lost daughter tonight to find out exactly where the jade necklace would be kept before the binding event. 

She also needed a way to cross paths with the elite guests coming to the mansion, especially the wealthiest man in the city, to secure her funding.

​A maid assigned to heavy scrubbing would never be allowed near the main hall during the welcome banquet. But a server would.

​And thanks to the Eye of Destiny, she now had the perfect leash to put around Matilda's neck to get exactly what she wanted.

...

​April stepped out of her room, closing the flimsy door behind her, and headed downstairs. It was time to start planning her first real theft.

They always blamed her for the stolen money and wares in the past, beat her up, and locked her up without food. She cried and pleaded her innocence, but no one would listen. 

Matilda was the most snobbish in that regard. And to think, it was her all along. April's fist clenched harder, her fingers digging into her palm, and her jaw tightened.

And so, she didn't go straight to the first floor to grab a mop. Instead, she took a sharp turn down the hallway and stopped in front of Matilda's room.

April took a single quick look around the corridor. ​The housekeeper was already downstairs lecturing the kitchen staff, so the corridor was completely empty. She slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

​The room smelled faintly of stale lavender and mothballs. She didn't waste time looking around. She dropped to her knees beside the neatly made bed, lifted the heavy floral dust ruffle, and slid her hand underneath. 

Her fingers brushed against the cold floorboards until they knocked against something solid and rectangular.

​She pulled it out. It was a thick, gaudy paperback romance novel with a creased spine.

​April opened the cover. The center of the pages had been crudely cut away with a box cutter, creating a hollow square. Packed tightly inside that makeshift safe were dozens of crisp, folded hundred-dollar bills.

​April let out an inaudible gasp, her eyes widening as she stared at the cash. The system wasn't lying. It was entirely accurate.

But it made her even more bitter.

​For years, Matilda had used her as a human shield, blaming her for every missing item while quietly pocketing a fortune. 

A cold gaze washed over April's face. She didn't feel a single ounce of guilt as she reached into the hollowed-out book, pulled them out, and stuffed the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills into the deep pockets of her oversized maid's apron. 

Matilda had used her as a scapegoat to protect her own skin for ten years; consider this the first installment of April's back pay.

​She slid the empty book back under the bed, straightened the dust ruffle, and slipped out of the room unnoticed, heading down to the first floor to grab her cleaning supplies.

The system was right this time, she thought as she went down. But… What if it's not always accurate?

​As she began to wipe down the grand wooden banister of the staircase, her heart began to hammer against her ribs. 

She was still deeply skeptical. Was the system actually predicting the future, or did she just happen to stumble upon a secret Matilda had kept for years out of sheer luck? What if this was a one-time thing? 

She couldn't count her chickens before the eggs hatch, so she needed to be absolutely sure.

Looking down into the bustling main hall, she spotted Sarah, one of the maids, polishing the heavy silver candlesticks near the dining area. 

April slowly walked down the steps, keeping her eyes fixed on her, testing the system.

​Immediately, a soft blue prompt flashed quietly at the bottom of her vision.

[Target locked: Sarah Jenkins. Would you like to read Sarah Jenkins's fortune?]

[Number of insights left today: 2]

​April thought a firm 'Yes' in her mind. The screen flickered, expanding right next to Sarah's head.

​[Eye of Destiny: Target — Sarah Jenkins]

​Hidden Truth: Accidentally spilled a drop of bleach on Madam Morgan's expensive velvet curtains yesterday and hid the stained fabric behind a heavy porcelain vase, hoping no one would notice.

​Immediate Future (Within 30 minutes): Will receive a phone call from her landlord stating that her rent check cleared, saving her from an eviction notice.

​The screen dissolved back into the air. 

That was another fortune. She would have to keep her eyes sharp and confirm if these things happened.

April turned her head slightly to look toward the kitchen, her eyes hovering over another maid who was rushing past.

​Another prompt began to form.

[Target locked: Chloe Miller. Would you like to read Chloe Miller's fortune?]

[Number of insights left today: 1]

But April took a good look at that '1' and immediately blinked it away, stopping herself.

​No, she thought, tightening her grip on her cleaning rag. I need a backup, just in case. There's no need to waste the last one for today on someone who doesn't matter to my survival.

​She had one single insight left for the entire day. There were high-profile guests coming to the mansion tonight, she absolutely had to keep this last card in her hand in case she found an opportunity to make a connection.

For now, she would just confirm that these fortunes she had read would happen, and that would boost her confidence when it came to the high-profile guest.

April went back to wiping the banister, keeping a close eye on the clock to see if Sarah's prediction held weight.

​Exactly twenty-five minutes later, Sarah's cheap phone vibrated in her apron pocket. 

She nervously stepped into the hallway to answer it. When she came back out a minute later, she let out a massive, audible sigh of relief, leaning against the wall with her hand over her heart, whispering, "Thank God, the check cleared."

​April watched it happen from the stairs, her breath hitching. A cold shiver ran down her spine, followed by a sudden, intense rush of adrenaline. It wasn't a coincidence. It wasn't a hallucination from her dying brain. 

She really had a tool that could see through time.

​Before she could fully digest the realization, the heavy glass doors of the sunroom swung open.

​Matilda walked out, her chin held high as she carried a heavy, ornate silver tray. Resting on top of it was Madam Morgan's prized English porcelain tea set—a rare, vintage collection worth thousands of dollars. 

Matilda was heading toward the main drawing room to serve the family and their newly returned daughter.

​April stopped scrubbing entirely, watching the housekeeper approach the polished marble floor of the main hall. 

Thanks to the insight, she already knew what was coming, but the thought of Matilda messing up got her excited.

​Two hours are up, April thought, her eyes narrowing on the tea set. Matilda had indeed carried the tea set, but if she slipped up and broke them is another story. If she did… then the system's prediction could no longer be doubted.

​Matilda took three more confident steps forward. Then, her shoe caught on the slightly raised edge of the heavy Persian rug.

​It happened in slow motion. Matilda's eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror as her balance vanished. She gasped, her arms flailing wildly as the silver tray tilted sharply to the side.

What came next was the sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the entire first floor. The delicate white cups, the teapot, and the saucers slammed into the hard marble, fracturing into a hundred jagged, useless pieces. 

Hot tea splashed all over Matilda's pristine apron and shoes.

​The entire hall went dead silent. The kitchen staff peeked out of the doors, their faces pale with shock.

​A second later, the doors to the main drawing room flew open. Madam Morgan marched out, her face instantly twisting into that ugliness that made the entire staff cower and hide. 

She exploded in rage as she looked at the wreckage of her favorite tea set.

​"Matilda!" Madam Morgan's voice shrieked, sharp enough to cut glass. "What the hell have you done?!"

​Matilda fell to her knees right into the puddle of tea, her body trembling violently as she began to stutter. "M-Madam, I'm so sorry! The rug—it was an accident, I swear—"

​"An accident?!" Madam Morgan walked over, her designer heels clicking dangerously against the stone. 

She didn't hesitate to slap the tray out of Matilda's shaking hands, sending it clattering across the floor. 

"That set was an antique! You clumsy, useless old hag! Your salary for the next three months is completely gone, do you hear me?! If you can't even carry a tray, I'll find someone who can!"

​The public scolding went on for ten agonizing minutes, with Madam Morgan tearing into Matilda's incompetence while the housekeeper wept and apologized frantically on the floor.

​Standing on the staircase, completely ignored by everyone in the room, April looked down at the scene. 

For ten years, she had been the one on her knees, taking the slaps, the whippings, and the blame for things she never did. Seeing Matilda take the hit for once felt like a breath of fresh air, and she didn't even have to do anything. This was destined.

But… this never happened in her past life, though. This was such a big incident; if it did happen, then she would have remembered, and maybe it would've made her day less infuriating than it had been when she had to iron dozens of clothes while the Madam celebrated her lost daughter's arrival.

So, things were changing, and this system was helping her keep track of those changes. 

April's mind was now crystal clear. She didn't care that things were changing because she was going to make some more changes herself by stealing that necklace. As long as it aided her survival, the world could even turn on its hooves.

Now, she just had to be prepared for tonight. First, she had to take the server's rights from one of the maids who would be serving at the banquet, so she could get a closer view of all those who would be attending the banquet tonight.