The Cursed Chocolate That Swapped Our Fates

For eighteen years, I lived in the slums of the royal capital. It wasn't until yesterday that I learned my biological mother was the late Marchioness Ashworth.

On my second day back at the estate, my nominal fiancé—Grayson, heir to the Dukedom of Ravenscar—personally delivered a box of custom-made chocolates. My stepmother, Vivian, stood nearby, gently urging me to have a taste, while Carmen chimed in sweetly beside her.

Just as I picked one up, a sharp voice exploded in the depths of my mind. It was Weiss, the guardian spirit my mother had sealed into my bloodline before she died.

Don't touch them!

Before she could finish, Vivian's gentle urging interrupted her. I forced my eyes to tear up, choked back a fake sob, and said I wanted to save them until midnight tomorrow for my birthday. To maintain their affectionate facade, they smiled and agreed.

In a cheap clinic down in the slums lay Noah. When we were fifteen, he pushed me out of the way of a speeding carriage and suffered severe internal organ displacement for it. The healing arts of the Royal Temple could have easily cured such an injury, but the price of a single spell was enough to feed half the street for over six months. No one was going to squander that kind of magic on an orphan from the slums.

Three years passed, and instead of healing, his condition worsened by the day. Everyone said he wouldn't survive the winter.

I never told anyone, but I quietly considered him the only person in this world to whom I could entrust my life.

The Ashworth estate was absurdly large.

I stood by the window, gazing at the sprawling vineyards and the spire of the distant church, still struggling to believe it was real. Three days ago, the curses and blows of drunks had woken me on a hard wooden plank in the slums; now, the carpet beneath my feet was so soft it swallowed half my shoe.

"Jessica, did you sleep well last night?"

Vivian pushed the door open, carrying a cup of warm black tea. Her silk gown clung elegantly to her figure, and her smile was so gentle she looked like someone stepping right out of a holy icon.

This was my stepmother.

"Thank you... I slept fine," I murmured, taking the tea.

Vivian reached out and stroked my hair. "Relax. You're home now."

I nodded.

A knock sounded at the door again.

Grayson walked in, bringing Carmen with him. He personally handed over an elegant gift box. "You've suffered out there. These are chocolates I had custom-made for you. They contain nourishing magic, reserved specifically for you."

Carmen's voice dripped with syrup. "That's right, sister. I couldn't even bear to buy them for myself in the royal capital. You have to try one."

I looked down. Inside the box lay three perfectly arranged chocolates, radiating an enticing cocoa aroma.

Vivian smiled and clapped her hands gently. "Jessica, taste your fiancé and sister's goodwill."

I was just about to reach for one.

Don't touch it!

Weiss's voice resurfaced in my mind.

These are soul-swapping artifacts brewed by an Abyssal Witch—only if you eat all three will your soul completely swap with Carmen's!

I froze, my hand hovering in midair.

Once all three are in your stomach, your body, the trust fund your mother left in the Magic Tower, and the Ashworth inheritance will entirely fall into her hands! And you will be trapped in Carmen's shell, branded a lunatic, and shipped off to an overseas penal colony to fend for yourself!

I turned to look at Vivian, Grayson, and Carmen. Their smiles remained flawless.

"What's wrong?" Carmen tilted her head at me, her gaze flickering. "Do you not like them, sister?"

"I..." My throat tightened, bone dry.

Weiss's voice rang out again, laced with uncontrollable fury:

Did you think Grayson's affectionate display was for your benefit? Years ago, in that rain-swept alley, you were the one who saved him! Carmen stole your dropped necklace, posed as his savior, and was placed on a pedestal. Now he wants to secure the marriage pact and seize the inheritance. As the true heir, you are the only worthless thing in their eyes!

I stared at the three chocolates in the box, my fingertips trembling.

So that was it. It wasn't a coincidence; it was a meticulously designed trap. One interlocking scheme after another, and I was the exact piece calculated for sacrifice.

Vivian seemed to sense my hesitation and stepped half a pace closer. "Jessica, is your body still recovering? Should I have the kitchen prepare a bowl of hot soup for you?"

Grayson smiled without rushing. "There's no hurry, take your time. Once you finish this piece, I will personally announce it to everyone at tomorrow's banquet in front of all the city's elites—our engagement will never change from this day forward."

His tone perfectly mimicked a profound and entirely devoted promise.

But I knew. Hidden deep within their gazes was the exact same breathless anticipation. They were waiting. Waiting to personally send me to hell, all while smiling and calling it a blessing.

My stomach violently churned, and I nearly smashed the gift box into the floor.

But a second later, the survival instincts I had ground out in the slums suppressed the urge. I couldn't panic.

When running into armed thugs in a dark alley, screaming and fleeing only made you die faster.

I had to act.