The Legend of Dong Bai: Reincarnating as the Demon Lord's Daughter in the Three Kingdoms

They say that no one is perfect.

That's true, but some people are less perfect than others.

The trouble is that the less perfect you are, the more likely you are not to see it and eventually suffer the consequences for it.

I thought I was perfect, and there really wasn't a reason to believe otherwise. I had a degree in business from a prestigious university. A top financial firm recruited me before I even graduated. By twenty-seven, I had a closet full of designer suits and high-end watches. By twenty-eight, I had a luxury car. By twenty-nine, I lived in a huge apartment with skyline views. By thirty, I was unemployed.

Or, rather, I was fired.

I tried to look for a new job. I really did. Maybe it was all the stress from the firing, or maybe it was the endless daily doomscrolling through job listings, or maybe it was the way consistent rejection ate away at everything I had believed about myself, but nothing worked. Time passed, and the gap on my resume grew while my bank balance shrank.

All my friends from school were busy with steady jobs, steady girlfriends, and weekends full of outings and parties. I had distanced myself from them when I got into university, and they now returned the favor. My family, who had been so proud of me—and so happy to accept my expensive gifts and checks—coldly told me not to waste time coming to see them and to focus on finding another job.

Basically, my life was at a dead end. I was too young to do nothing but too old to start over. Besides, who would want to help a lonely loser like me?

To make matters worse, I was broke. The expensive apartment with skyline views was a thing of the past. The luxury car had been repossessed. I sold off my designer suits and watches one by one in order to pay by the week for a single room in a depressing, shabby hotel. The only things I kept from my former life were my glasses and phone. After all, I had to see and have a way to apply for jobs, right? Oh, who was I kidding. All I used my phone for these days was playing my favorite game while sitting in the cheap Chinese restaurant next door. That's where I was when it happened, just spinning the gacha wheel, hoping for a halfway decent reward for a change.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Okay . . . huh? Who's this?

Wu Fu: Loyal minister of the Han dynasty. Attempted to assassinate the demon lord Dong Zhuo but failed and was executed.

I couldn't remember ever hearing of this character but given his common ranking and lack of unique or useful skills, it wasn't hard to see why—he was clearly a dud, nothing but cannon fodder.

The whole point of the Three Kingdoms strategy game was to recruit legendary heroes through a gacha system and use them to unify the land.

A loser like Wu Fu unifying a kingdom? Yeah, right. Maybe I should buy some more coins so I can spin for someone like Lu Bu. I mean, that would leave me a little short for rent, but I could just skip lunch tomorrow instead to make up for it. After all, it's investing for world peace.

Investing for world peace? Ha! Are you serious?

A waitress set a glass of water down in front of me.

She was pretty young woman with a cute pixie haircut and bright eyes. I sometimes wished her personality was as cute as her hair. She could be brash and cheeky, though this is probably what enabled her to break the ice with me when she saw me playing Three Kingdoms. It turned out she played, too, and we friended each other in the game.

Whatever. It was just nonsense. Leave me alone.

You should be careful, even with 'nonsense.' You know, there's an old saying, 'The mouth is the gate of misfortune, and the tongue is a slashing sword.'

Wow, well that really describes you, now, doesn't it?

And there it was, the reason I was fired: my sharp tongue.

Listen, I'm as good as the next guy at getting along with everyone and playing at being humble and charming.

But let the smallest thing go wrong on a project or my manager look at me cross-eyed, and my nasty temper reared its ugly head. None of that passive aggressive stuff for me. I went on the attack and didn't hold back.

Needless to say, I made a whole of enemies, and not one person stood up for me when I was fired.

Now that I had hit rock bottom, there didn't seem to be any point in playing nice.

Besides, you're one to talk, spending your whole paycheck on coins to try and win handsome heroes. So keep your nose out of my business.

Like always, my mouth moved and the nasty words spilled out before I could think. I was in a glass house throwing stones at the waitress, except she was in the glass house next door.

Normally, this would have been just a petty squabble between two dorks, ending with the waitress volubly insulting me in Chinese.

But tonight was different.

Ha! I'm never wasting my paycheck on coins ever again. Look at this.

She pulled out her phone and shoved it in my face. Heroes like Zhao Yun, Zhou Yu, and Guo Jia—all popular with female players—flashed across her screen. I stared in disbelief. These characters were incredibly rare and almost impossible to get.

You've got to be kidding me . . . weren't you just screaming over your awful gacha pulls just last week? How did you . . . ?

Actually, there's this fortune teller nearby who knows all about gacha games.

A fortune teller?

Yeah, she knows everything. When to do gachas, when maintenance starts and stops, how many apology stones we'll get—she tells it all.

Huh. She sounds amazing.

Right? She asked me to spread the word, so I'm doing this solid and telling you.

Honestly, I was skeptical. It was fine to have a specialty, but a fortune teller specializing in gacha games seemed kind of ridiculous.

But if she could really influence gacha luck, then that would be divine. As someone who had poured all of his savings into a gacha game, it was information I could not just ignore.

When you go to see her, she said to give her this.

She handed me a business card with a white, bean-shaped magatama—half of the traditional yin-yang symbol—drawing on it.

No, not that. The other side.

I turned it over, and on the other side was a local street map with a point labeled 'Fortune Teller.'

By the time I had made up my mind, it was late.

Most of the shops and cafes even in this cheap area of town were getting ready to close or already shuttered. The streets were empty, and I walked in darkness broken only by the occasional half-hearted flicker of a streetlight. It made following the map on the business card challenging, but I managed by using the glow of my phone.

Even before I reached the sad, ramshackle shed at the address marked on the map, I was regretting my decision. Still, I had come this far. I stepped inside the makeshift lean-to, unsurprised to see some escaped RPG magician larp-er in a cheap black cloak and hood sitting at a small table. I was on high alert, my suspicion at its peak.

Despite everything, I sat down in the empty chair across from the 'magician.'

Welcome, Sasane Shirokawa.

A woman's voice said my name without any hesitation.

Straining my eyes against the dimness, I could just make out a strange tattoo on her neck. I realized I had been breathing in heavily, as if to take in as much as I could of the strong peachy scent that hung in the air.

I knew you would come here today.

Oh, really?

I scoffed. That was exactly what every campy fortune teller on tv always said. Sure, she knew my name before I even introduced myself, but I was starting to think that was more the product of the waitress texting her than any magic powers. Suddenly, I worried about just what I had walked into and moved to stand up.

The fortune teller continued calmly without missing a beat.

Sasane Shirokawa . . . you were the top producer at your trading company a year ago, but you got fired because you ran your mouth. You had a nervous breakdown because you failed and have lost everything. Even your body is falling apart. You are now partially deaf in one ear, have sciatica like an old man, and don't even get me started about your chronic . . . shall we say, gastritis? Correct?

What the heck? There was no way she could know about my recent health issues like that.

Uh, yeah, so . . . I'm gonna get going now.

You came here to play for gacha, did you not?

Just as I put my hands on the table and was about to stand up, she presented me with a phone. I did a double take. it was my phone!

Huh? What?

I frantically patted down my pockets, but they were empty. The picture on the lockscreen confirmed it really was my phone, but I had no idea when or how it had been taken. As if by magic, my phone unlocked and opened the Three Kingdoms game. The brightly colored gacha wheel started turning.

Go ahead. Try your luck. Sometimes you get nothing, but sometimes you get a divine spin that changes everything.

A divine spin!

I hesitated, my hand halfway outstretched already.

A divine spin . . . the sensible thing for a mature, educated thirty-year old man to do is grab was phone and hightail it back home. The sensible thing for a broke, unemployed, sick thirty-year old man was to take a million-to-one chance on a so-called divine spin.

What's the worst that could happen? It's not like my crappy life could get any worse.

I tapped the wheel fiercely, nearly knocking the phone out of the woman's hand.

The familiar gacha magic animation played out and revealed the prize. Huh. That's weird. It was a new character, but it wasn't a stern-faced general or a wily intellectual strategist.

It was a woman—a true rarity in Three Kingdoms content. Actually, it wasn't even a woman, but rather a young girl.

Dong Bai, granddaughter of Dong Zhuo. Despite being a young girl, she was given the rank of lord at the peak of Dong Zhuo’s power.

. . . Dong Bai?

Oh, wait, it was coming back to me. I remembered checking her stats when I started playing. She was an unimportant character with a low overall rank and no special skills. She was just another weak character, another consolation prize for a bad gacha spin. I frowned.

Is this what you call a divine spin?

Before I could really get rolling on a good diatribe, I was startled by a gentle warmth pulsing in my hand. I was still holding the business card from the Chinese restaurant, only now, it was glowing. The light was emanating from the bean-shaped magatama symbol and growing brighter by the second.

What—

I tried to let go of it, but it was stuck to my hand—or maybe it was that my fingers would not loosen their grip. The warmth turned to a tingling, followed by numbness, spreading from my hand up my arm and through my body at an alarming speed.

Don't worry. It'll all be over soon.

I glimpsed the fortune teller's lips in the shadows of her hood curve up in a faint smile. I tried to yell, to scream, but my own mouth was frozen, paralyzed along with the rest of my body. My vision faded as I felt my body fall over.

I don't even remember hitting the ground, only the lingering scent of fresh peaches.

I woke up, and I instantly knew I was in an unfamiliar place. It was just like the first disorienting moment of waking up in a hotel room on a business trip.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes as if that would help me catch the last fading wisps of what must have been a bizarre dream.

It's so dark. Where is this place?

My thoughts flopped about like a fish out of water as I tried to figure out what kind of room this was. It was too big to be my squalid little rental, too quiet to be a hotel, and too dark to be a hospital. I looked around me, noticing the high ceilings and the old-fashioned lattice windows without any glass. By the spidery moonlight that slinked through the shadows cast by the latticework, I saw there weren't any lamps, clocks, or TVs. Instead there was just a lot of serious antiques with carved chairs, big chests, and thick rugs.

I instinctively raised my hand to my face to adjust my glasses so I could get a better look.

Where are my glasses?

Ever since I had ruined my eyesight while preparing for my high school exams, I could barely see my hand in front of my face without my glasses. Yet now, I realized I was seeing with perfect vision, even in the dark. I could see the pattern of the wood grain on the ceiling beams and the slightly uneven pile of the rugs.

But even weirder than my eyesight were my hands. I held up my hand, and the loose sleeve of a light yukata, or cotton robe, slipped down my arm.

I blinked, just to make sure I was seeing right. It's not like my hands were rough from a life of physical labor like construction. After all, I was an office worker. Still, I expected to see a man's hand with long fingers and some light calluses. Instead, I was staring at a pair of small, slender hands with unblemished skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

I studied everything from the fingertips to the wrist, then up to the elbow, and even twisting my neck to look down at my shoulders. Everything was small-boned and delicate, as if they would shatter at the slightest bump.

They were beautiful, fragile hands, but definitely not mine.

What's with these hands . . . huh . . . eek?

I startled myself with the weirdly high, almost babyish pitch of my voice. My head spun as I realized I wasn't speaking Japanese or even English, but something that vaguely resembled an obscure Cantonese dialect, though I only knew a little bit of regular Cantonese from a couple of trips to the Chinese mainland for work. Yet, I seemed to be fluent with even my thoughts now in this language.

A chill ran down my spine, and I struggled to take a deep breath. Reality was sinking in. This was not a result of waking up groggy or the world's worst hangover. Something unbelievable . . . almost extraordinary . . . had happened to my body.

I felt dizzy, and I hung my head, focusing on trying to breathe. I couldn't help noticing that long hair cascaded over my shoulders, falling to my waist in a smooth, glossy curtain. Sure, it had been a while since I had afforded a haircut, but even the texture of my hair was completely different than this.

Maybe I had hit my head when I fell and awakened from a coma after years? That might explain the hair and smooth skin. Maybe I was experiencing a psychotic break which explained the weird new language skill? Amnesia? Sudden-onset dementia? I couldn't come up with any plausible explanation.

For now, I should look for someone and see if maybe they know what's going on.

As I got out of bed, it was almost unsurprising to see that my feet were different, too. They were soft and pale, with perfect little toes. Even I couldn't help admiring the slender ankles. When I finally stood up, a small card fell from my robe to the floor.

It was the size of a business card and even had a white magatama on it. Only this time, the pattern was completed by a black magatama, forming a complete taijitu symbol representing both yin and yang.

The door to the room opened just as I bent down to pick up the card.

Two women dressed in old-fashioned Chinese robes stood in the doorway. They were both bizarrely tall, and I had to look up to see them properly. Feeling intimidated by the way they seemed to loom over me, I tried to say something, anything.

Um . . .

Suddenly, the women fell on their backsides in what would have been a comical way if their faces hadn't been full of terror. They desperately tried to scoot backwards, shrieking all the while.

Ah, waaah!

Help! Help!

Eek!

I took a wobbly step forward to try and reassure them, but this only made them scream harder and scramble to run away.

Why do I feel like I shouldn't be here?

My heart started pounding rapidly. I was overwhelmed with anxiety and fear, as though I was being scolded just for existing. It all felt suddenly unbearable.

I'm sorry!

I kept yelling apologies as I dashed into the corridor after them. The women kept screaming, their cries propelling me as I ran down the surprisingly long hallway in what looked to be a very old, very large mansion.

It look unfamiliar but felt familiar, confusing my senses even more.

W-What do I do? I need an adult..

As soon as I thought that, it struck me as odd. I needed an adult? I was an adult.

I hadn't made it very far when I began to feel nauseous, the world swaying and splashing before my eyes. My legs felt rubbery and disjointed, and nothing worked in my body in the way I was used to, as if I was wearing a badly fitting costume while trying to run through a swimming pool full of pudding. There was a dreaded, familiar tingling and numbness in my fingertips and toes, making it next to impossible to keep moving.

I stopped, collapsing against a wall and gasping for air and absently noticing how my long hair bobbed and swung with each deep breath. A group of people tore around a corner and came to a sudden stop in front of me.

What's going on!? Is there a thief?

Several men spotted me and rushed over. All of them were giants clad in armor, making me feel even more lost and confused.

Help!

I ran blindly toward them, narrowly avoiding a sharp object that I caught coming toward me out of the corner of my eye.

But the awkward pirouette I used to avoid it threw me off balance, forcing me to fall backwards and to land hard on my rear. It might have been painful, but nothing like the shock I felt at the sight of a ring of nasty, gleaming spears pointed right at me.

Holy crap! These were the real thing—genuine weapons designed to kill—were aimed at me.

What the hell was going on?

I felt something trickle down my cheek and wiped it with the back of my hand. Only then did I realize I was crying. No matter how much I wiped, tears kept overflowing. I felt something wet on my cheek and wiped it with the back of my hand, only to realize I was crying. No matter how much I wiped away, more tears kept coming.

I frowned, sniffled, and scrunched up my face to hold it all in, but a sob rose up and burst from me.

Waah . . . ugh, sob, hic . . .

The men in armor holding the spears seemed puzzled by the sight of my tears. Onlookers, drawn by the commotion began to gather as well. Through the blur of tears, I could see some wore simple robes and carried cleaning rags and baskets while others wore a different type of guard-like uniform.

H-Hey, is she crying?

Someone with more curiosity than tact spoke out above the muffled whispers of everyone else. It took half a moment to realize they weren't speaking Japanese or English, but that same weird Cantonese-ish dialect that I seemed to have woken up understanding. How that happened and not knowing how to respond overwhelmed me, and my tears fell even harder.

The people's whispers rose in volume to be heard over my sobs.

Can she speak?

A demon must have possessed the corpse.

You're right.

That's what I said, too!

We need to chop off its limbs and burn it, just to be on the safe side.

Their words only made my cry harder, yet no one reached out to offer any kind of help. I'd never felt more scared or alone.

The people stopped chattering all at once, and the fragrance of fresh peaches filled the air.

Oh my, you poor thing! It seems you're terribly confused. You probably can't even remember who you are.

The gentle voice belonged to a beautiful young woman, probably no more than 20.She had large, dark eyes framed by long eyelashes, and her delicate features looked like they had been painted on porcelain with a fine brush. I blinked when I thought I saw a tattoo on her neck. Everything suddenly clicked into place: the scent of peaches, her voice, the tattoo.

It was that fortune teller.

Except that now, instead of the campy cosplay magician's cloak, she was now dressed in what looked like traditional Chinese attire. She also seemed to have grown into a giant like everyone else standing around me.

Everyone, please step back. Leave her to me.

As she spoke, the fortune teller picked me up bodily, as effortlessly as one would a child.

As an average-sized man, no woman would ever have been able to pick me up. But she held me without any strain, and an incredible conclusion was forming in my head. It seemed impossible, but, there didn't seem to be any other way to explain what had happened to me.

Am I a child?

It would explain why all of the ceilings looked so high, the corridors so wide, and everyone I met seemed so tall. They hadn't grown into giants. I had shrunk to the size of a child.

As the fortune teller bore me in her arms away from the crowd—who scrambled out of her way—I tried to get a better sense of my relative size. I was about one-fourth the size I had been, or maybe the size of a young child. The fortune teller seemed unsurprised and unbothered as she brought me to another luxuriously decorated room.

Here we are.

As she set me on the floor, I was suddenly eye level with her generously endowed cleavage, and I instinctively looked away. I felt a strange sense of loss, of deep longing for something forever gone.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. I mean to be there to help you and explain everything, but some unexpected things came up.

The fortune teller bent down to my level, wiping away my tears and patting me on the head as if she was comforting a lost child. I wasn't a child, at least not on the inside, but all the same, I couldn't deny that I felt oddly reassured by her gesture.

Now, Sasane Shirokawa. You might have guessed a good bit already about what is going on . . . but just in case, I'd better start from the beginning and explain everything.

The fortune teller used my name again. There was no doubt in my mind anymore that this was the same woman from before . . . before whatever happened to me happened.

Clearly, we are no longer in the twenty-first century. This is ancient China, towards the end of the Han Dynasty. And you are obviously no longer Sasane Shirokawa, at least physically. Hmm, you might call it 'reincarnation.'

Reincarnation? The word conjured images of a person dying, and their soul then being reborn in another, starting life anew in fiction—but did I really die?

However, no word other than reincarnation seemed like an appropriate to describe my situation. I also recognized the era of ancient China I was in from the clothes, furniture, and the language. All of it resembled Chinese—ancient Chinese, that is.

Of course, I was the one responsible for your actual reincarnation process. I know you must have a lot of questions, but first—

She fetched something from across the room and placed it in my hands.

Here you go.

The object she handed me was the size of a sheet of paper, but it was a heavy piece of polished metal. I realized it was a bronze mirror, just like one I'd seen in a history textbook.

Reflected on its surface was a little girl with a pale, tear-stained face.

Huh? What? What the hell?

My jaw dropped, and I touched my face. The girl in the mirror mimicked my actions. There was no doubt about it: that girl was me.

While I stood speechless, the fortune teller resumed speaking.

This is Luoyang in the middle of the Central Plains and the heart of the Han dynasty.

No, wait, more importantly, this, a girl . . . Hang on a second! I'm . . . the reflection . . . a girl.

Here in Luoyang, you wield considerable power—

Hold on! This is a little girl's body! Who the hell am I?

She grasped my face, forcing me to look away from the mirror and directly at her. Beautiful, emotionless eyes coldly met mine.

Pay attention. I'm explaining everything you will need to know.

Overwhelmed, I fell silent, my shoulders sagging in defeat. The fortune teller stepped back and resumed her cheerfully efficient 'explanation.'

The master of this mansion is Dong Zhuo. You are his granddaughter: Lady Dong Bai.

The later Han period of the Three Kingdoms, known from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, as a time when heroes like Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Cao Cao thrived amidst the chaos of the warring states.

Dong Zhuo was a name that appeared early in the Three Kingdoms era.

Rising up from the turmoil of constant war, Dong Zhuo murdered the emperor and his mother, installing a young puppet emperor in their place to control the court. He mercilessly slaughtered all who opposed him and seized whatever he desired, terrorizing the citizens of Luoyang in the process. He was a demon lord by every definition.

And now, I appeared to be the granddaughter of that demon lord.

So, any questions?

The fortune teller asked with a warm, easy smile.

There was still only one question on my mind.

Granddaughter? Am I really . . . a girl now?

Oh yes! You're just an absolutely adorable little girl.

I cautiously slid my hand between my legs. Now that I thought about it, something down there had been definitely feeling . . . off.

It's not there . . . but something is definitely there.

Don't fiddle around too much down there. Besides, you must be hungry. You've only just woken up, after all. It’s too early for you to eat solid food, so drink this instead.

Out of nowhere, she produced a bowl full of some steaming broth and placed it in my hands. A sharp herbal fragrance tickled my nose.

I made this medicinal broth for you. It's packed with all the nutrients you need right now and will help regulate your energy flow.

I drank it as instructed. It tasted milder than the aroma initially suggested, and it had a soft, comforting broth-like flavor that sparked a warmth in my lower abdomen that gradually spread throughout my body.

Well done! You did great.

The fortune teller took the empty bowl from me, looked me up and down.

Now, let’s get those ill-fated clothes off you.

Huh?

That's a shroud. It's what they dress the dead in for burial.

Images of funerals and ghosts with triangular folded headbands flashed through my mind.

Death . . . shroud? Why am I wearing something like that?

Because you were dead, Dong Bai. Now, hurry up and take it off.

I obeyed her and began undressing, shedding the unlucky robe. At this point, I was dazed and confused by everything from this new body to her bizarre conversation. The only thing I was certain of was that I was completely at the fortune teller's mercy. Once I had disrobed, she began to speak again.

Good job. Now, raise your arm up for me and hold them there, just for a little while, okay?

I complied and shivered as her fingers traced over the skin of my neck, collarbones, ribs, and other sensitive areas. Then, she poked my belly button, and I made a strange squeaking sound.

Yes, it looks like your soul is properly anchored in your body.

The woman's fingers slid smoothly from my belly button up to my solar plexus, and I struggled to contain my laughter at the ticklish sensations.

Just as I thought, your energy flow is disturbed since you've just awakened, but you should get used to it soon.

The fortune teller's fingers drifted back and forth across my abdomen, stirring a buzzing sensation under my skin, as though my nerves were being magnetized to follow her touch.

Her fingers drew a line up my sternum, undisturbed by my heavy breathing. She finally withdrew her hands, and I sagged from the whiplash between sensation and loss.

All right, that’s good. You'll probably feel some discomfort for a while, but it'll definitely pass. Also, here are your new clothes.

I meekly accepted the offered everyday robe and draped it over myself.

Now, you must be curious why Sasane Shirokawa, a twenty-first-century man, has been reincarnated into the body of Dong Bai from the era of the Three Kingdoms.

Was it me, or was the fortune teller's smile slightly sinister? I gulped and nodded.

Let's continue, then.

The fortune teller cleared her throat, just like I remember so many of my teachers doing before lecturing.

As I mentioned, we are in the final days of the later Han dynasty, just before the era of the Three Kingdoms. The Han dynasty, established by Emperor Gaozu, known as Liu Bang before he ascended to the throne, has lasted 400 years. But now, it is mired in corruption. The eunuchs and imperial in-laws are causing tremendous harm, and the emperor is helpless to stop it as his authority plummeted due to the ongoing Yellow Turban Rebellion. This China is really a place where only the strong survive.

Her expression and voice grew stern, and I shivered.

I summoned you to this era because I sought a hero capable of calming this chaotic world. You have been called to stabilize this troubled land and usher in a new era of peace. Please accept the heavenly mandate to ease the people's suffering.

The fortune teller bowed to me, her arms extended and hands folded.

The gesture—a kowtow—was something I had only ever seen in kung fu movies and Chinese dramas.

Um . . . can I ask you a question?

Of course.

So, was I brought here . . . for the purpose of unifying the land?

Precisely.

In this body?

Yes.

Why couldn't I be a high-ranking hero instead?

Because of this.

The fortune teller presented me with the card painted with the black and white symbol of tai chi: the yin-yang. I recognized it as the card that had fallen from my robe earlier when I had first woken up.

This is a charm imbued with a curse from Mount Tai's deity. Originally, it was two halves that combined the body and the soul. The choice of body, however, isn't up to me. It depends on the will of the deity of Mount Tai. Think of like a gacha spin.

Gacha? You mean my reincarnation was decided by something like that!?Who uses a gacha spin to unify the land!?

The fortune teller pursed her lips, clearly sulking.

That's what I said, but it's not up to me. Honestly, I was taken aback too. I was ready for a great hero or some forgotten warrior to be chosen for this task . . . and then it turned out to be a cute little girl.

Still pouting, she slowly traced her finger down my cheek, and I instinctively stepped back. I had a very important question that needed asking.

Earlier, you said Dong Bai was dead. So . . . did Dong Bai die so that I could come to this era and use her body?

No, Dong Bai’s death was just an accident. Originally, your soul was supposed to inhabit the body of a newborn hero. But an unexpected bug occurred, and somehow your soul settled at the time of death instead of birth. Curious, isn’t it?

She tilted her head coquettishly, but I was in no mood to find anything cute about this situation.

In fact, this just made me distrust her more. The casual way she handled human souls was appalling. I mean, it's not like I knew all the rules and regulations for handling human souls, but it just seemed sloppy. Someone who could make a mistake like this frankly didn't seem all that trustworthy.

What if I refuse?

Oh, you mean what would happen if you refused to work towards ushering in a new age of peace for this era?

I'm just some unemployed nobody. I don't have any useful skills for dealing with war and politics. Besides, I don't see why I need to change the history of the Three Kingdoms.

The fortune teller looked at me coldly, then sighed deeply.

Well, you're right. You're not exactly my first pick for someone to succeed in these tumultuous times. This might have been too much to ask.

Really? So, there's no penalty?

No, not really. If you want to continue living as an unemployed loser, that’s fine by me . . . maybe I overestimated you. I thought with your knowledge of the Three Kingdoms, you'd know the fate that awaits Dong Bai and want to do something about it.

Her ominous words gave me pause, and I searched my memory of the game's details.

I remembered the moment I met the fortune teller, right before my reincarnation, when I did a gacha pull in the game and pulled a hero along with an explanation text.

【Dong Bai—Granddaughter of Dong Zhuo. At the height of Dong Zhuo’s power, she was granted the rank of a lord despite being a young girl.】

There was nothing else. That was all I knew about Dong Bai. She didn't achieve anything significant, nor did she become the wife or mother of anyone famous, which was to be expected since she died young.

Oh!

I clapped my hands over my mouth, and my blood ran cold.

After Dong Zhuo's death, his clan faced a purge, which meant that Dong Bai would have probably been executed as well. The fact that my soul has entered the body of a dead Dong Bai meant that she must have died before the purge, but that was irrelevant now.

The immediate problem was that now, in this new timeline, I had become Dong Bai.

We were still in Luoyang, but once Dong Zhuo moved the capital from Luoyang to Chang'an, he will die. Once he dies, his whole clan, including his granddaughter Dong Bai, will face execution. In other words, if I do nothing, I will face certain death.

The fortune teller grinned, probably at my dumbstruck expression.

To tell you the truth, my role in all this was to seduce the reincarnated hero and use my extensive knowledge of intimate bedroom arts to persuade him to take up the quest. Obviously, those tactics won't work for you since you're in the form of a little girl. But honestly, even if you'd been reborn as a warrior, I don't think I would have had to go as far as using seduction for motivation. You've got a perfectly good reason already. After all, if you don't step up and act, you'll die.

This lady!

I bit my tongue, took a deep breath, and asked my next question.

If I die in this body, would my soul return to my original body or be reborn as someone else?

No, it won't. What's with that look? You think I'd send your soul back to your original time period even if I could?

Her smile was now ice cold. She definitely was not going to help me.

The best thing to do was to sort out all of this new information and think things through, maybe come up with some kind of plan or, best case scenario, find a loophole.

The first step was to accept that this was the ancient Chinese era of the Three Kingdoms, and I had become Dong Bai, granddaughter of Dong Zhuo. Dong Zhuo's entire clan, including myself, will probably die because of him.

If I do nothing day by day, I will be locked into Dong Bai's fated death. The only way to avoid it was to develop massive strategic, political, and military power and influence and use it to calm this troubled era.

You've got to be kidding me! How am I supposed to take on all this chaos as a little girl? Who's going to listen to me?

Now, now, don't say that. There must be a reason why Taishan Fushen chose that body for you.

Then this Taishan guy should say it to my face!

Taishan Fushen is the god of the underworld. As a god, he has thoughts beyond our comprehension. He does not show himself before mere mortals.

Seriously, all freaking religious fanatics sound the same.

A voice called out from the doorway.

Excuse me?

I turned around and saw the maids from before hesitating on the threshold.

My lady, the chancellor is calling for you.

The chancellor, that's . . .

The chancellor was an old Chinese government position, one similar to a modern-day prime minister. The maids nodded eagerly.

Yes, my lady, Lord Dong Zhuo is calling for you.

Dong Zhuo. His courtesy name was Zhongying. Historically, only respected elders would be able to call him Zhuo, or his given name. Men were given a 'courtesy name' so that their peers and others could call them by an appropriately respectful name in formal situations.

Dong Zhuo was a man who built his power in the western region of Liangzhou in China. A typical regional warlord who took advantage of the chaos to move into Luoyang, capturing the young emperor and becoming the power behind the throne.

Unlike Dong Bai, there were many stories about Dong Zhuo. Almost all of them were terrible, which told you all you needed to know about what kind of person he was. He executed the wealthy to seize their assets, desecrated tombs to take priceless burial objects, massacred people on a whim, and plundered women and treasures.

I really don't want to meet this guy.

The maids looked at each other, an odd sense of pressure passing between them. I tried to object, but the maids pressured me, alternating between scolding and pleading, effectively ignoring my protests as they hustled me out of the room. The fortune teller didn't even so much as offer to come with me or express the slightest worry for my well-being. Go figure.

As it was, I was being ushered down a long corridor, struggling with my small, child-sized steps to keep up with the grown-up strides of the maids.

Oh my God! What was that foul stench? It smelled like something raw was rotting.

The smell grew stronger as we neared the end of the corridor, becoming overpowering as we came to stand in front of a tall, heavy door.

I realized what the pressured feeling between the maids was and why they had been so insistent.

Fear.

The maids knelt down, carefully hiding their fear behind blank expressions. Still, I could sense they were deeply frightened of whoever was on the other side of that door.

One of the maids called out, her voice shaking.

My lord, I have brought the young lady.

She may enter.

From the other side of the door, a deep, booming voice rumbled the reply.

The door opened, followed by a gust of the rotten stench that choked me. Still, this had to be faced. I squared my shoulders and entered the Demon Lord's room.

You've come, Bai.

An elderly man stood—or more accurately filled–the room with his massive stature and presence. He was tall and broad, and thickly built. He wasn't obese or sloppy. Rather, it was as if balls and ropes of tight muscles were encased in a bouncy, protective layer of fat.

Unlike carefully groomed sumo wrestlers or professional fighters, his appearance was wild and untamed, as if the entire side of a craggy mountain decided to take up residence in the room of a mortal man. A wooly beard covered more than half his face, and a tall crown was placed on his topknot, the only nod to civilization his wild appearance.

Come closer.

I hesitated, intimidated not just by Dong Zhuo's overwhelming presence, but also by the group of heavily-armed guards lined up behind him.

What are you doing? Hurry up.

Pressing my lips together tightly to keep from whimpering, I edged closer. The rotten stench and glowering soldiers weighed me down and shrank every step I took. Maybe it was the dim lighting in the chamber, but there was something off with the guards' pallid, sickly complexions.

Hmm . . .

Suddenly, Dong Zhuo grabbed both my shoulders.

Ah!

I squealed like the little girl I was. Dong Zhuo's thick fingers stroked and tapped various parts of my body just like the fortune teller had, but this time all I felt was extreme discomfort and overpowering revulsion.

Hmm, hmm. Does it hurt anywhere?

Mm-hmm.

Is that so? I'm so glad.

His hairy face broke into a relieved grin of relief. His smile was so devoid of malice that it left me bewildered.

When I first heard that you had come back to life, I thought it must be a mistake. But it's true, isn't it? Truly, you are Bai? Ah, what joy. Tomorrow was supposed to be your memorial service, but now our plans have changed. Tomorrow we shall all celebrate the recovery of my granddaughter.

His innocent joy almost made me feel guilty, as the soul he spoke of with such affection was in reality gone, and I was simply masquerading in her body. Dong Zhuo nodded enthusiastically as he grasped my shoulders in his bear-like grip.

You're safe, and that makes your grandfather so happy. Oh, yes. I must decide on a gift for the celebration.

Well, about that . . . So, Dong Zhuo . . . I mean, grandfather. She, I mean, uh, I . . .

Ho, ho! You don't have to be shy. You can tell your grandfather. Now, who is it?

Huh? Who is what?

Whose head do you want for your gift?

It felt like this day had been one moment after another where I was literally at a loss for words, especially when I realized that he meant 'wanting someone's head' quite literally.

There must be someone on the estate that you can't stand or even just mildly annoys you. Even a visitor or old playmate would do. Maybe there's someone whose face you don't like or whose accent you can't stand? Anyone will be fine. Just say the word, my dear!

N-no, um, grandfather . . .

What's the matter? Why are you hesitating? I've never known a little girl who didn't have murderous thoughts over little things. Go on, tell me. Go on, say it. What's wrong? Why won't you speak?

Dong Zhuo's fingers dug into my shoulder. Whenever I tried to pull away, he would merely pull me closer. Even as Dong Zhuo's ghastly face loomed closer, I could do nothing but look away. His face gradually distorted with impatience.

You know that I could and would behead anyone for you. After all, I am the chancellor, and you are my most beloved granddaughter. I love you so much. Surely you feel the same, right? Don't you? Even if the world despises me as a demon lord, you still love me, don't you? What's wrong, Bai? Why won't you answer me?

It hurts!

Come on, tell me. Say something! Why won't you speak?! You're acting so strange.

His bloodshot eyes bulged, and his lips pulled back in a hideous grimace, revealing yellowed teeth.

You . . . are you really Dong Bai?

This is bad! Really bad!

My brain went into overdrive to come up with some kind of excuse or lie to allay Dong Zhuo's suspicions, but just like one of my gacha spins, I came up empty.

Part of the problem was that I had no idea how Dong Bai usually spoke or the type of things she would say to her grandfather.

Seriously, what is the matter with you, Bai?

His fingers dug into my shoulders, and tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. It brought home the fragility of a child's body and the very real danger I was in. If this man wanted, he could easily tear Dong Bai's small, slender body apart with his bare hands.

If he did, there was nothing I'd be able to do about it. Even if I punched Dong Zhuo in the face with all of my might, it would not even make his nose bleed.

Oh my God! He's . . . he's really going to kill me!

Just as both of my lives were starting to flash before my eyes, a loud noise filled the room, echoing off the walls.

Eh?

Peeking around Dong Zhuo's bulk, I saw that one of the soldiers had fallen over, still clutching his weapon. In fact, his whole body was still stiffly posed as if he was a chess piece that could be set back upright on his feet, not at all like the sprawling limpness one would expect from a dead body.

Oh, dear. I supposed I didn't set it up correctly.

Dong Zhuo let go of me and walked over to the fallen soldier. Without a second thought, he grabbed the soldier's rigid arm and set him on his feet, just like I had imagined doing with a chess piece or mannequin.

It finally struck me that the soldier wasn't alive.

His face was a purplish gray, and the scowl I thought he and the others were giving me was really just the product of dilated pupils, drooping eyelids, and slack lips that exposed his lower gums. I thought I even saw long iron nails driven into his elbows and knees, like gruesome pins or bloody hinges for a mechanical doll.

It's not what I'm thinking. It couldn't be . . . could it?

Upon closer inspection, all of the soldiers looked the same: grey, slack-jawed . . . and hinged.

Look, unless you're a doctor or mortician, most twenty-first century men don't see that many dead bodies in their lifetime, let alone casually encounter a whole company of them in one room!

Do you think these boys are terrifying enough? They're supposed to be my camouflage and shield. All my enemies keep sending assassins, morning, noon, and night. They slip them windows and chimneys, and even infiltrate my staff. I started keeping these boys as souvenirs, or rather as a warning to anyone foolish enough to make an attempt on my life. But if you are afraid of this . . . Bai, you are still, you must be . . .

The walls of the room, corpses and all, began to spin before my eyes. My heart raced, and a chilling sweat broke out on my brow. My mind went blank, as if at this final horror, the last of my rational thought had turned out the light and left the building. I had been pushed past my limit and was now floating inside my head in a sea of eerie blankness.

Without even meaning to, I blurted out something I instantly regretted.

Um, are you maybe . . . scared?

What did you say?

The way he raised his bushy eyebrows alone would give a normal man a heart attack. But add to it his face puffing up and getting red with anger, and it was like watching a demon's mask come to life. Yet, while my mouth belonged to a little girl, my worst habit from my past life of blurting out exactly what I thought was fully in control and would not stop.

Well, I mean, you decorated this room with corpses as a threat to assassins. Which basically means you're scared of being killed, right? So, you're scared . . .

Stomp! Stomp!

Dong Zhuo rushed at me with an unexpected agility given his massive build. He loomed over me, and if it had been feasible, he would have had steam pouring from his nostrils. As it was, he breathed heavily into my face, inundating me anew with the rotting smell.

Did you call me a coward, young lady?

Shut up! Stop talking! Don't say anything! I screamed in my mind. Any sane person would have stopped talking or not even started talking. But here I was, seconds away from peeing my pants with terror, and the words just kept spilling from my lips.

You called them your 'shield,' didn't you? Logically, that means you're trying to protect yourself from something, right?

Saying whatever was on my mind with no filter wasn't even a bad habit at this point. It was a sickness that would probably keep reincarnating with me wherever and whenever I went. Just my luck.

Honestly, it was at the root of why all of this had happened, starting with when I was fired from my company. A major project had gone badly wrong, and someone needed to take the blame. Because I was so widely disliked, it was easy for everyone to agree to make me the scapegoat. At an important meeting, I was gleefully hung out to dry by my superiors. To no one's surprise—not even my own—I lashed out.

If I had stayed calm and professional, pointing out the facts and rational objections, I might have survived and kept my job. Instead, I rode my high horse into battle, blaming and belittling my colleagues both professionally and personally. Screw making amends! I was out for red-hot revenge. Obviously, I was dismissed unceremoniously.

Some small, sane corner of my brain timidly tried to point out that this might ruin my life, but once I had started, I could not stop. It was always that way. Whenever I was angry or scared, my first line of defense was attack. The greater the stress, the more brazen my words became.

Ah, how sad. Dong Zhuo—he who terrifies even the heavens from the heart of Luoyang—can't even go to bed without piles of dead toys to keep him safe against things that go bump in the night.

I use the dead because—

—because you can't trust the living, right? That's it, isn't it? Great people like you are always so paranoid. And you, you're not just paranoid, you're terrified. And in fact, you don't have the courage to show any kind of weakness. That's the real reason you try so hard to intimidate everyone with all this, 'Look at how big and strong and frightening this demon lord is!' I honestly feel sorry for you.

Oh, ho!

Oh, man! This is bad. Really bad. He's definitely gonna kill me now.

The same small, sane corner of my brain tried to pump the breaks, but as always, my bad habit—my disease—steamrolled on.

Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that the fearsome demon lord Dong Zhuo is actually a huge coward who jumps at shadows in his bedroom. But, don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're actually kinda pathetic. Now that I think of it, I'm actually impressed that you've managed to fake it this far. Good job, buddy!

Given that I could only reach his shoulders if I went up on my tippy toes and stretched, I ended up patting his his bear instead of his head. It was a grave insult to such a large and imposing man, but Dong Zhuo tolerated it without a word. It must have been an odd sight, though; a child pacifying a giant.

His eyes which had been burning like the fires of hell itself were now calm, and when he spoke, it was with a surprisingly gentle voice.

Are you truly my innocent little granddaughter?

Huh? Oh! Yeah, I mean, of course I am.

Why ask that now, of all times?

The question was so unexpected that it brought some measure of sanity back to my mind. Dong Zhuo might seem subdued right now, but he might slip into demon lord mode at any second. I needed to make peace and solidify my position while I had the chance.

Um, well, you know that since I just woke up after such a terrible illness, something might be wrong with my memories or the way I speak.

No, you are definitely my dear Bai. If anyone else had dared to speak to me as you did, I would have executed them on the spot. But naturally, a sweet little girl like you is safe.

That wasn't exactly logical, but I wasn't going to argue. If he was convinced, that was good enough for me.

He called out, raising his voice so it would reach the (living) servants who waited just outside the door.

You there! Come in and take away all these corpses.

A small stampede of servants tumbled into the room at his command, hoisted the bodies between them, and scurried out. All this was done without a word or question, as they were probably long accustomed to his unreasonable demands.

Just like any other normal grandfather, he put his arm comfortably around my shoulders and resumed the gentle, caring tone he had first used when checking to see if I was truly alive and unharmed.

I do apologize for calling for you while you must still be recovering, my little Bai. You should go to bed early today. Tomorrow will be time enough for festivities. It will be a celebration to remember!

Yeah . . . yes, uh, definitely.

I left before anything else could happen. No sense in trying my luck when it was already so bad. Once in the corridor and away from his room where the stench of death still lingered, I gulped in deep lungfuls of fresh air.

Holy crap, that was close. One wrong move, and I would have been so much Dong Bai dumpling filling!

My heart started pounding wildly, and once more, a chilling sweat broke out over my skin. Near to passing out from hyperventilation, I closed my eyes and forced myself to slow my breathing.

With my next inhale, I smelled peaches.

I came to see how things were going, but it seems you have it all under control, little Dong Bai.

I opened my eyes just enough to glare at the fortune teller. She covered her mouth with her sleeve and giggled.

I'm so surprised. To think you would use sass to calm down a furious Dong Zhuo.

I'm so surprised that I'm not dead, or worse, fired.

This was the only time I could ever remember where using 'sass' had ever worked in my favor. Once, a college friend of mine had attacked me in a meeting, hitting and verbally assaulting me in front of our supervisors. He was fired on the spot, but I was also labeled as 'disruptive,' and, 'someone who doesn't work well with others.' It was just one of the many incidents that paved the road to my own termination.

Well, naturally, even the same words will sound completely different coming from a grown man versus a little girl—even more so when you are a beloved granddaughter. I heard you, and even your voice and cadence are those of a little girl. It's definitely proof that your original soul and new body are connecting seamlessly.

Is that so?

Of course. In fact, you might be more compatible with this body than we previously thought. Perhaps Taishan Fushen was right after all.

Seriously? She was being so high-minded and serious when earlier she had chalked it all up to gacha spins.

As I spoke with the fortune teller, a steady stream of servants passed us, all carrying more and more corpses from Dong Zhuo's room. I was struck once more by his extreme, unnatural cruelty.

Ah! Oh, no!

One of the maids in the crowd of gawking servants burst into tears and ran to one of the bodies as it passed, flinging herself onto it and wailing a name.

Oh, wow. She must have known him. Was he her brother? Maybe her lover?

Whoever he was, they must have been very close, judging by her heart-breaking sobs. It must have been a horrible thing for her to see someone she loved in such a state. Finally, the other maids managed to pull her away, still weeping, from the corpse.

As she looked away, she met my eyes, and we looked at each other.

It was only for a moment, though. Her own grief soon overwhelmed her again, and she crumpled into the arms of the other maids, her tears resuming their rush down her red cheeks.

Still, for that one moment that our eyes locked, the look she gave me was one of pure, unadulterated hatred.

Dong Zhuo's cruelty was no longer some bizarre grotesquerie or storybook nightmare. It was very real and very present in the lives of everyone in Luoyang.

I could sense the tension even within the estate. Everyone hated and feared Dong Zhuo and his clan, but without the Dong military and political power to protect them, who knew how much worse it could get?

My lady, perhaps you should return to your rooms?

Oh, yes, of course.

One of the maids shielding the weeping girl turned and urged me to go. Her tone was deferential on the surface, but there was fear enough underneath . . . fear for me? No, fear of me. As I slowly made my way through the long corridors, I realized that death was no longer a distant, abstract concept that I rarely thought about. The room full of corpses and a sobbing maid clinging to a rotting body showed me the real, visceral truth of death.

The sobbing maid's unrestrained grief demonstrated more understanding of the depth and finality of death than I had ever had. As I thought about it, that was the correct response to death. This wasn't a twenty-first century video game or action movie. There were no respawnings or rewinds. In this era, violence was not stylized or glamorous. Violence meant death. Literally.

How had those men dressed up in armor died? Why had they died? Did Dong Zhuo execute them for cause, or had he killed them on a whim? Had they suffered, or did he make death quick and business-like?

For the first time in my life—lives?—death was truly tangible. It was real, and reality became a nightmare.

I was beginning to grasp all the implications of the future that awaited me.

Once Dong Zhuo was dead and his protection gone, I would be killed. It would not be an easy death, not if they—whoever they were—could help it.

It certainly wouldn't be the comparatively gentle blackout that transferred my soul, courtesy of a talisman from the god of Mount Tai. No, it would be a lingering, gruesome death such as only mortals could devise.