Rebirth Snatching Back My Stolen Luck novel Chapter 49

Chapter 49

“I’m sorry,” I said, my tone carrying an unmistakable sense of guilt. “I had… personal reasons for keeping my details private.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Hopefully you didn’t commit a crime?”

I laughed, then answered seriously. “Of course not. I just couldn’t let my family find out.”

She nodded, the teasing glint in her eyes receding. “We’ll need you to update those to your real details. No more phonies to avoid future troubles, okay?”

“Of course. And… I also apologize for going silent without warning. It was my senior year, and I was drowning in coursework. I had no choice.”

“It’s fine. You’re back now–that’s what matters.”

We smiled at each other.

“Ah, yes,” she said suddenly, almost making me jump. “About your earnings–you never filled in your payment infor- mation, so we’ve never been able to send them to you.”

I blinked. “Earnings?”

Freya paused when she saw genuine confusion on my face. “You do remember signing contracts for your works?”

“Of course. Non–exclusive ones,” I said.

“Then you should know that means they’ve been monetized. Profits made are split between you and the platform. Which means…” She got up, fetched her laptop from her desk, and tapped away.

“Here.”

She turned the screen toward me, revealing the figures from her creator management account–the one she used to oversee the artists under her.

Eight digits.

I blinked, then counted again.

The numbers on the screen remain unchanged.

Still eight.

“No need to doubt it, Longing Bird,” Freya chuckled, patting my shoulder. “You’re a little millionaire now.”

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Chapter 49

It took moment for the words to land.

When I’d uploaded my first work to FeatherInk, I’d only wanted to share it with others. Back then, I hadn’t thought about contracts or money–only about drawing.

It brought me incomparable joy and satisfaction when people commented that they loved and enjoyed my stories.

Then, not long after, Freya’s email arrived with a contract invitation.

I’d asked her a few basic questions and, upon hearing that signing meant more visibility for my work, I’d agreed with- out hesitation.

Earning from it? That possibility had barely crossed or register in my mind.

Yet here I was, staring at more money than I had ever imagined, my name sitting above those impossible numbers.

It felt unreal–just like the absurd view counts on my comics, or the way Maggie and the FeatherInk staff treated me.

Everything was strange.

As if I were drifting inside a dream.

Yes–a dream.

A sudden chill slid down my spine, my heart tightening as a thought–absurd yet stubborn–took hold.

What if I hadn’t escaped my past life at all?

What if this… was only the fleeting dream people speak of–the kind you see in the final moments before dying?

LILITH

“Are you okay?”

Freya’s voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I blinked and found her waving a hand in front of my face.

I forced a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

Her frown deepened. “But your face looks so pale-”

“I’m really fine,” I cut in quickly. “My stomach just feels a little uncomfortable, that’s all.”

I hesitated, then added, “Can you show me to the restroom?”

“Of course.”

We stepped out of her office, her heels clicking lightly on the hallway floor.

“I’ll be waiting right outside,” she said when we arrived. “If you still feel unwell, call for me.”

Worry lingered in her eyes.

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She probably thought I was on my period or something. The thought made me smile faintly, my heart warming de- spite my unease.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Inside, I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over my face again and again until my skin stung.

Shutting it off, I gripped the sink and stared hard into mirror, digging my nails into my palm until a bead of blood welled up.

The pain grounded me. Made me feel awake. Made me feel real.

“May,” I murmured, the rims of my eyes red from water getting into them.

[Yes, host.]

“Tell me the truth–am I really reborn, or is this just… some fleeting dream? One that lets me do the things I never could in reality?”

A small, treacherous voice whispered that maybe even May wasn’t real–just something I’d made up to cope.

Rebirth. System. Luck stealing.

Those were things you’d read about in a fantasy novel, not reality.

At first, I’d believed I’d been reborn because May’s explanations were convincing. I’d even promised to live a daz- zling life.

But now…

Things had been going so well since yesterday–too well, infact.

I’d found my passion, fame, and financial independence almost at once.

How could I not question it?

[This is a question

only

Cas

you answer, host,] May said, its tone cold, but threaded with something like pity.

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