The Villainess Little Brother is the Richest Mob

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed relentlessly, casting a pale glow over the rows of desks. My stomach growled, a familiar pang of hunger. I longed for a steaming bowl of ramen, the kind with perfectly cooked noodles and a rich, savory broth. But I knew it was a futile wish. My meager salary wouldn't allow for such extravagance. Not when every penny was needed to pay the bills.

I rubbed my weary eyes, fighting back a yawn. Another late night at the office, another day of being treated like a cog in the machine of this soul-sucking corporation. It wasn't even a real company, just a black hole that sucked up our time and effort, spitting out pennies in return.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost midnight.

My gaze drifted to the novel open on my laptop screen. I'd finally reached the climax, the moment I'd been waiting for. A sigh escaped my lips, as I finally saw justice served on the cruel villain.

My fingers itched to click the "next" button, but my body was a lead weight. I slumped back in my chair, my eyes closing.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over me. My head throbbed, and the room started to spin. I tried to sit up, but the dizziness intensified.

"Damn it," I muttered, reaching for the water bottle on my desk. I went out to buy a medicine.

Just then, my vision blurred, and the world tilted. My body felt like lead, heavy and uncontrollable. I felt myself falling, tumbling down a dark stairs.

A sharp pain ripped through my head. Then, silence.

The world around me was a swirling vortex of colors and sounds. My vision cleared, and I found myself staring at a dimly lit, cramped room. It was a far cry from the sterile office I'd just left. The walls were bare, the furniture worn, and the air smelled faintly of mildew.

I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my head. I reached for my forehead, feeling a throbbing pain pulsate with each beat of my heart.

"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

My eyes darted around the room, landing on a mirror hanging on the wall. My reflection stared back at me, but it wasn't my reflection. The face in the mirror belonged to a boy, a boy who couldn't have been older than twelve. He had hair as black as the night sky, and eyes the color of a golden sunrise.

I touched my face, feeling the smooth skin and the sharp angles of a young boy's features. This wasn't my reflection. This wasn't me.

A wave of panic washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of disorientation. This new reality wasn't unfamiliar. I had a clear memory of what had happened before: the dizziness, the pain, the fall. And then... then, I had woken up here.

But there was something else, a sense of familiarity that tugged at the edges of my mind. It was a memory, faint but persistent, of a different life, a different world.

I closed my eyes, willing the fragmented memories to coalesce. They were blurry, but I could see them: A small, cramped apartment, filled with worn furniture and faded posters. A mother's worried face, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sadness. A little boy, frail and sick, clutching a tattered teddy bear. And then…

The memory faded, leaving me with a sense of loss and confusion. Who was this boy? Who was this mother? And why did these memories feel so real, so profound?

A sudden burst of energy coursed through me, and I remembered something else, something significant: The boy in my memory, the one in this room, was named Kian. Kian Niel Isidore. This wasn't a dream. This was my new reality.

I looked around the room, taking in the bare walls and the dusty furniture. This was my life now. This was the reality I would have to navigate.

I looked around the room, taking in the bare walls and the dusty furniture. This was my life now. This was the reality I would have to navigate.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over me, and the room began to spin. I reached out for the wall, my hand finding a rough, uneven surface. The memories came flooding back in a jumbled mess:

The small, cramped apartment. A mother's worried face, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sadness. A little boy, frail and sick, clutching a tattered teddy bear.

But there was something else, a new memory, a fleeting image that felt significant. It was a hazy scene, the details blurry and unclear.

I was younger, maybe seven or eight. I was playing with another boy, a boy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. We were laughing, chasing each other through a park, the sun shining down on us. He was a good friend, someone I could always count on.

But something felt wrong. His name, when I tried to recall it, was a blur. As if it had been censored from my mind, erased.

The memory vanished, leaving me with a sense of unease. Who was that boy? Why couldn't I remember his name?

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding. The room was still, silent, the only sound the ticking of a clock on the wall. The blurry memory lingered, a nagging question in my mind.

I knew that boy was important. He was someone who had been a part of real Kian's life, someone who mattered to real Kian. But why couldn't I remember his name? What had happened to him?

I needed to understand. I needed to know.

The faint glow of the moon painted the room in an ethereal light. I lay in bed, my head throbbing, the fragmented memories swirling through my mind. I tried to make sense of them, to piece together the puzzle of my new life.

The door creaked open, and a woman's silhouette entered the room. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. I recognized her immediately – Cassiopeia, my sister.

She tiptoed over to my bedside, her long, dark hair cascading down her back. She was wearing a simple, flowing gown, the fabric clinging to her slender figure. Her face was obscured by the shadows, but I could see the faint glow of her golden eyes, eyes that seemed to hold both warmth and a hint of something else, something colder, more calculating.

I feigned sleep, closing my eyes tightly, pretending to be lost in a dream. I wanted to observe her, to learn more about her, about our life together. Something about her felt familiar, as if I had seen her before, but where?

She knelt beside my bed, her touch light and gentle. She placed a cool cloth on my forehead, her fingers brushing against my cheek. A shiver ran down my spine, a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation.

"You're running a fever," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. "Get some rest. I'll be back later."

I didn't open my eyes until she had left, closing the door softly behind her. I lay there, listening to the silence, my mind racing.

The sun streamed through the window, painting the room in a golden light. I blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Cassiopeia was sitting in a chair beside my bed, her eyes closed. Her dark hair, as black as the night sky, shimmered in the sunlight.

I watched her, her features etched in my mind. Something about her felt… familiar.

"Cassiopeia," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing those dazzling golden orbs. She smiled, her lips curving into a delicate crescent.

"You're awake," she said, a hint of relief in her voice. "How are you feeling?"

I looked at her, trying to decipher the emotions swirling in her eyes. There was concern, yes, but there was also something else, a subtle undercurrent of… something else entirely.

"I'm… I'm okay," I stammered. "Who… who are you?"

Her smile faltered slightly. "You don't remember?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of concern.

"I… I remember glimpses," I said, trying to find the words. "Blurry images. A cramped apartment, a mother… I can't remember her face, but I remember a pain… a loss…"

She nodded, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. "Yes. It was a long time ago. Mom… she passed away when you were just a baby."

"And… and what about our father?" I asked, a sense of unease creeping into my voice.

Her gaze dropped, her expression clouding over. "He… he wasn't around for very long," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

I watched her, a strange feeling growing within me. Her features were etched in my mind, her golden eyes burning into my soul. They were so familiar, so… real.

Suddenly, a scene from the novel I had been reading before I fell unconscious flooded my mind. A stunning woman with dark hair and piercing golden eyes, a woman who wielded her power with ruthless cunning, a woman who…

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Cassiopeia's features, her hair, her eyes…

The villainess. She was the villainess.