On the first night the real heiress came home, I, the fake heiress who had enjoyed her privileged life for twenty-three years, was sent back to the countryside. Four years later, the brother and fiancé who had once despised me came all the way to find me. My birth parents stammered that after I came back, I had married young and moved out of the village with my husband's family. They had lost touch with me, too. Only I knew they would never find me. Because I had been dead for years. The sudden landslide four years ago had completely buried me as I lay at death's door. During the post-disaster reconstruction, my birth parents wrapped my corpse in a straw mat and carelessly tossed it into a graveyard on the back hill.
