Dr. Lâm, his white coat stained with coffee, leans against the shelf, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. He pulls out a tattered old book wedged between medical journals, its leather cover embossed with symbols he doesn't recognize. Curiosity overcomes fatigue as he flips it open, skimming through yellowed pages until a passage catches his eye—strange, looping script about "the passage of souls." "The spirit wanders where the body cannot... To read is to awaken, to awaken is to become," he reads aloud, a chill winding up his spine. Suddenly, the corridor spins. The beeping grows distant. Darkness swallows him whole.

Dr. Lâm awakes, disoriented, his limbs heavy and weak. As he tries to move, he realizes his body feels alien—smaller, softer. He glances at his hands, slender and unfamiliar, and glimpses a woman's reflection in the window. Panic thrums in his chest. Footsteps approach. He squeezes his eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness as two figures enter, whispering urgently. First Figure: A woman in designer clothes, sharp-eyed, voice low and tense. Second Figure: A man in a tailored suit, nervous, glancing over his shoulder. "With her out of the way, the inheritance is secure. Just keep the doctors fooled a little longer," "What if she wakes up? The tycoon’s heir is watching closely," "She won't. Not as long as we control the medications," Their words chill Lâm to the marrow. He fights to keep his breath steady, heart pounding.

Lâm, now dressed in a simple silk gown, is wheeled into the foyer by stern-faced attendants. He is introduced as Trịnh Khuê Lam, the fiancée of the family’s heir, and every eye in the room watches with suspicion or calculation. At the top of the staircase stands Lục Trạch, tall and imposing, his gaze cold and unreadable. "So, the sleeping beauty awakens at last," he remarks, his tone icy. "I... I don’t remember much," Lâm stammers, careful to keep his answers vague. "Convenient," Lục Trạch replies, his eyes narrowing.

Lâm sits at the head table beside Lục Trạch, his every movement scrutinized. Unfamiliar etiquette and biting conversation swirl around him; he sips water, hands trembling. Across the room, the woman from the hospital raises a glass, her gaze sharp as a knife. "You’re different since the accident," "Maybe a near-death experience changes people," "Or maybe you’re hiding something. I intend to find out,"

Lâm[/@ch_1] slips inside, searching for clues—the truth about the accident, about the people who want Khuê Lam gone. A hidden drawer reveals a vial of strange pills and a torn photograph of Khuê Lam with the woman from the hospital, arms linked.] Footsteps echo in the hall. Lâm hides behind a velvet curtain, heart racing. Lục Trạch enters, pausing by the fire, his face shadowed. "If you’re going to spy, you should at least be quieter," "Are you here to protect me or watch me?" "Perhaps both. Or perhaps neither. That depends on what you’re really after,"

Lâm[/@ch_1] stands by his bedroom window, torn between desperation and resolve. The city skyline looms in the distance, a reminder of the life he left behind. The book he found that night—now missing—haunts his thoughts.] He weighs his choices: risk everything to return to his old life, or embrace this new fate and fight for justice in a world that isn’t his. Determination steels in his eyes. "If I can’t wake up from this dream, then I’ll rewrite its ending," he whispers to his reflection, ready to face the secrets and dangers ahead.