The Body Thief

The Body Thief

By:  NCFINNYX  Completed
Language: English
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Hera is not your typical girl. While most are likely to expose their face, she prefers to cover it with her hair. Friends? She doesn’t have those. You can say she’s anti-social and nearly a psychopath. But that’s not the weirdest thing about her. It is the fact that no one has heard her voice ever since she entered the orphanage that makes her the subject of gossip. On top of which, she lost the will to study, owing for her marks to barely reach the passing score. The funny this is, despite being dumb, the president of Sagkahan High invites her over to their school with a full scholarship. It is a prestigious institution that only accepts exceptional students whose IQ exceeds a hundred and fifty. She never likes the sound of it, though. It’s so fishy. It’s until she wakes up in an entirely different body that her disposition changes. What’s more is she’s inside the president’s daughter. As it turns out, the school knows her better than she is to herself. It makes her wonder why they collect her information when she’s just a mere orphan. Along with the goal of comprehending the secret of that body transfer, she enters this school and rose to become the most intelligent student. Things will only become more interesting from there.

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56 chapters
Strange Orphan
Unlike the standard seventeen-year-old girl, Hera had strings tied in her fingers. She was but a puppet controlled by the words of Mother Tere, the head nun of the orphanage she was staying in. Even if she did choose to disregard the will of this puppeteer, she would not only face her wrath but also the anger of her co-orphans who likewise had to suffer the consequences of her mistake. That’d be because the orphanage operates on a grouping basis. The mistake of one was weighed to all members of the group. With that in mind, Hera was to be seen folding her blanket at four in the morning. It was an hour early before their call time. Breathing heavily, she stretched the thin fabric while keeping a lookout at the opposite double-decker bunker where two girls slept. Assured they were still asleep, she turned and looked up at the orphan lying on top of her bed. Since the girl remained unmoving, Hera poured her attention to her blanket. It assumed the tint of royal
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Orphaned Fool
Hera cupped her cheeks as Ms. Reyes, their Creative Fiction teacher, drowned them with the ingredients for a perfect story. They’ve been discussing it for days but, aside from feeling bored and stupid, she learned nothing. She understood a pinch of what she was saying, though; however, more than that was just wishful thinking. Yawning, Hera directed her gaze outside the window. With her peripheral vision, she was aware Ms. Reyes wouldn’t be able to notice her spacing out. After all, she was a small woman, even by the standard of a twelfth-grade student. This and the fact that most of her classmates were sitting in front of her, vacating the four chairs beside her, concealed her from her teacher’s range of vision. Assured she’d never be reprimanded, she poured all her attention to the field just outside their room. She brushed the strands of her hair off her face to have a good look at the Narra Tree sitting in the center, its branches dancing with the wind, its leave
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Cryptic Invitation
At three in the afternoon, Hera was to be seen standing at the window of the small house built in the Narra Tree. Her hands were leaning on it as she watched the seventh-grade students ran around, laughing beside themselves. Seeing their enthusiasm made her wish to be like them, to have their lives. Always at the end, she was given all the reason to accept the fate bestowed upon her by whoever shit. She sometimes thought that the Gods might’ve just been playing around too much that she ended up with a cursed life. Yes, the orphanage was just one of the few things she was accursed with, and enumerating the terrible occurrence she had to endure would cost a thousand pages. People might look like they care but, deep down, they’re just trying to save themselves from the retribution of fate once they neglect these children. That, at least, was apparent to Hera. A small smile curved her lips when a teacher came running to the field, chasing away the students who we
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Hera was catching her breath as she stopped running, her hands on her knees, her hair disheveled. She never thought Mr. Hemmingworth had followed her when she took her leave. She thought that because he was busy arguing with the principal, he would let her go for now. Far to the contrary, he was swift enough to excuse himself and chase Hera to know her answer. Sure, he said he’d kindly wait, but he wanted to confirm whether or not Hera would think about it. To Hera, he was just wasting his time. There’s just no way she’d subject herself under his jurisdiction. Her gut’s telling her it’s not the right thing and, anyway, she hated the fact that he’d already talked to the principal with the transfer without consulting it to her first. Didn’t she have a will of her own? Why would they assume that just because the principal agreed and perceived it as an honor, Hera would have the same mindset? It’s just absurd and presumptuous. She hated it. Looking over her shoulder, a s
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The last thing Hera could remember was being struck by a bolt of lightning. She was lucky to be knocked out before an excruciating pain, along with a burning sensation, could wrap itself around her body. As for the woman annoying her that time, who cares? She could be dead for all Hera knew, and, if ever she did, she deserved it. No one, no one pricked the hell out of her without paying. Big time. She’s not being a sadist or anything. She’s just being real. She’d rather wish for them to rot in hell than lament when they suffer even though she’s the one who’s in misery when they don’t. Being a masochist was never her dream. It never would be. Hera lazily slapped her forehead, her eyes still closed. She’s being a little shit herself with all the thoughts buzzing in her head early in the morning. Here she was, feeling weak, yet her mind had the audacity to think of other people. Shaking her head, she breathed
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Hera lay on the bed as her mother wrapped cloth on her bleeding hand. She was cradling a small smile as she hummed; her entire focus poured on her daughter’s wound. The way that she did so made Hera feel so weak. She never had a mother who’s as caring as her, and it made her feel that her chance to have one had been redeemed, though she felt disappointed all the same. She knew that whatever she felt now was just temporary and that soon she would either wake up from this dream or be busted that she wasn’t their real daughter. Imagining it alone gave her no satisfaction. In a short moment, she felt as if she’s living the life of her dreams: having her own bed, having a caring mother, having a room of her own. Whatever happened, she wished for it to remain that way; otherwise, she’d be miserable once more, trapped in a fate she longed desire to vanquish. Once again, a tear escaped her eyes. Before she could even try to wipe it, her mother already did. “It’s unusual for
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Father and Child
Hera reread the letter Sheels had written. She kept a blank face as she swallowed every word. She had never been interested in reading something all her life. This piece of shit was clearly an exception, though only because it was about her. Despite wanting to destroy it, she couldn’t hope to do so when her body wouldn’t react however she urged it.Agreeably, some of Sheels’ statements were spot-on, which made it a lot more embarrassing and irksome. She knew she’s non-special long before Sheels did. Brushing it in front of her face was just outright rude. The document itself seemed confidential, though, for right after she reread it, she just found herself stamping it with a seal. No doubt, Hera shouldn’t have read it, so she ought to calm down, but she had read it nonetheless, and there was really insult to the way she phrased an introduction about Hera. The fact that it would also be passed onto someone, read the words of degradation in it, mak
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Hera was fully aware that what she had experienced was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that it was too good to be true, but what she couldn’t understand was how she could dream of someone she had just met and someone obsessed to recruit her over to his school. Not to mention that it also included a motherly figure she longed so much to feel.But maybe it just showed how desperate she was to break free from the bindings of her accursed fate, that it haunts her down even in her slumber.Mother Tere said she was asleep for three days, and she’d made sure that none of the orphans saw her bare face in respect to her decision. Sure enough, it was only Mother Tere who greeted her when she woke up.“We were worried sick, A-15, didn’t you know? I thought it was the end of you. You were sprawled unconscious on the ground, and you’re barely breathing. Soaked in the flood with your head bleeding. The caregivers were losing hope, see,
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The Letter
For days on end, Hera was to be seen sulking in her room, not wanting anyone’s comfort. She managed to evade most of the orphans and even made excuses for why she couldn’t go to school; however, on Friday, a week after she woke up, she found herself busted with her fabricated reasons. She had written to Mother Tere early in the morning that her stomach was aching so bad she couldn’t hope to stand, but she was forced later on to retract her words when Mother Tere went to her room and told her she’d call a doctor.“It’s not good to hear that you’re sick almost every day. Your missing school and you’re not doing some chores. Though understandable, it doesn’t do well to dwell on illness,” she had said, looking worried.So, gesturing that she had only imagined the pain, she fixed herself in the bathroom and drag her feet to the hall where hundreds of eyes peered curiously at her. She slumped beside A-15 who had her
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Hera was standing in front of a full-length mirror, eyeing herself in a way that she’d never done before. The mirror was Mother Tere’s gift for her admission to her ‘dream school’. Hera refused point-blank to accept it, as she had no use for it, but Mother Tere couldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, so much so that she took the initiative to nail it on the wall in Hera’s room. Her other roommates were happy about it, of course. They’ve been asking for one for ages, but Mother Tere didn’t approve it in respect to Hera who frets at the sight of her reflection. Though as to why she’s insisting it now, Hera could only guess along the lines that she wanted her to, at least, have some friends in her new school; certainly, with her hair covering her face and her anti-social and anti-self attitude, other students would have a hard time being comfortable around her.It was Monday. Hera was just waiting for the service that
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