Kingmaker's Lost Daughter

River City, night.

A desolate, rundown alley. During the day, it's nearly deserted, and at night, it's even more silent and eerie, devoid of any human presence.

The cold white moonlight spills onto the moss-covered cobblestone path. A stray cat, sniffing around for food, heads deeper into the alley.

Within seconds, the cat's eyes widen in shock, its back arching in fright.

In front of it lies the still-warm body of a young girl.

Malnourished and frail, with disheveled long hair, a filthy T-shirt, and red, swollen marks around her neck.

But then, something even more astonishing happens—the corpse's fingers twitch, and her eyes open.

"Am I reborn?"

The girl slowly sits up from the ground, her pale lips parting slightly, her voice as cold and clear as a bell.

Golden hair flows in the moonlight, giving off an eerie yet enchanting aura.

The name of this body is Amelia Martinez, and from now on, that would be her name.

Amelia tries to stand, but the body is too weak, stumbling with every step. With her current soul's strength, it would take at least a week to heal this damaged body.

Too long.

Just as Amelia feels a pang of disappointment, her nose twitches, catching a scent in the air. Her eyes light up as she lifts her head.

By the roadside, a sleek, black luxury car.

Michael Johnson is sitting inside, waiting for his assistant, Eric Allen, to return with the jade he sent him to retrieve.

The Williams family is hosting a charity auction tomorrow night, inviting the city's elite. Though called an auction, the items are actually donations from the guests' private collections.

The Williams family isn't spending a dime, yet they gain a good reputation and all the credit—truly a clever move.

Michael usually avoids such events, especially since he's not well-liked. But due to the family ties between the Johnsons and the Williams, he has to make an appearance and donate something, out of respect for Vaughn Williams.

As Michael looks down at his phone, he suddenly hears a knock on the window.

He looks up to see Amelia standing outside the car window, her appearance making him pause.

Amelia looks frail, about 5'3", with a small face. Her long hair is messy, and her face and clothes are dirty, obscuring her original features.

A beggar?

Michael hesitates, then reaches into his suit pocket, pulls out his wallet, and extracts five hundred dollars, which he extends through the partially opened window.

However, Amelia doesn't take the money. Just as Michael frowns and looks up, she grabs his hand.

Michael's eyes narrow, and he speaks sharply, "Let go!"

It's not that he minds the dirt; it's just that he's an unfortunate person. If someone with a weak constitution touches him, they could suffer anything from palpitations to a heart attack.

"I won't."

Michael is taken aback by her response. And her grip is surprisingly strong—he can't shake her off.

"I don't want money."

Amelia's voice is firm as she holds onto his hand.

Michael now notices that despite the dirt, her features are quite beautiful. Especially her clear eyes, which shine like glass.

"Then what do you want?" Michael's voice is low and steady.

Amelia suddenly leans in closer, whispering, "I want... you."

What?

Michael's expression freezes, and before he can react, he finds himself unable to move.

In the next moment, Amelia's lips press against his.

As their lips touch, Michael's eyes widen. All he can see are Amelia's slightly trembling eyelashes and feel their breaths mingling.

Five whole minutes pass before Amelia pulls away from his lips.

"Didn't anyone tell you to close your eyes when kissing?"

"Then again, this wasn't really a kiss."

Amelia mutters to herself. She straightens up, looking serious, "Anyway, I kissed you, so I'll take responsibility."

With that, Amelia digs into her worn-out jeans pocket, finally pulling out a shabby coin, which she forces into Michael's hand.

"This is a down payment. I'll repay the rest next time we meet."

"By the way, my name is Amelia."

It isn't until Amelia's figure completely disappears that the force holding Michael in place vanishes.

When Eric returns with the jade, he finds Michael in the backseat, breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

"What's wrong, Mr. Johnson? Are you okay?" Eric quickly asks.

"...I'm fine." Michael takes a deep breath, his eyes swirling with an unknown emotion.

"Eric, help me find someone. Search all of River City if you have to, but find her."

——

Michael, who Amelia had just encountered, carried a heavy and pure aura of misfortune.

Such an aura is intrinsic, a part of one's fate. Those born with it either suppress it to become exceptional individuals or succumb to it, leading to an early demise.

Regardless of the outcome, people with heavy misfortune are dangerous to ordinary people with weaker fates, bringing bad luck if they get too close.

But for Amelia, this misfortune is the fastest way to replenish her soul's strength.

After just five minutes of absorbing it, she feels her body becoming incredibly light, her soul's power coursing through her limbs, even her breathing feels invigorated.

Amelia finds a place to sit, sifting through the original owner's memories. Just as she finishes, the phone in her pocket rings.

Someone is calling.

Amelia brought the phone, an old model displaying the caller's name, marked by the original owner as: [Kevin]

A member of the Martinez family.

Amelia touches her chin thoughtfully.

An hour ago, the person who sent someone to strangle her—was it her never-before-seen "mother," or the sister who's currently involved with her fiancé?