Chapter 1 The Oracle Supreme's Return

"Guard against strangers all you want—sometimes the thief lives in your own house!"
Thunder crashed across the sky as rain poured down in sheets. A servant shoved Venus Burn out of the house, causing her to stumble hard down the stone steps. Her small frame hit the ground with a thud.
Her knees were scraped open, but she didn't care about the blood. Terrified of being abandoned by her family, she cried out loud and begged, "Dad, please! I didn't steal Bree's Cartier!"
Standing under the porch roof, Harvey Burn glared at her. "A girl from the backwoods town—of course you have sticky fingers!" he barked. "Stay out there and let the rain wash that filthy heart of yours clean! When morning comes, I'll send you back where you came from. Maybe a few hard days in the mud will make you repent!"
The moment she heard she'd be sent back, Venus went pale. She shook all over, begging him again and again.
"Dad, please, believe me. I didn't take anything—"
The door slammed shut with a loud bang.
She lifted her head toward the sealed door, rain streaming down her face like tears. Her thin arms, already covered in whip marks, trembled. The girl's pale, hollow cheeks showed nothing but despair.
No one knew how long she stood there—an hour, maybe more—until she heard footsteps behind her.
Venus turned weakly.
It was Axel Burn, the oldest son of the Burns.
He was wearing a black suit, holding an umbrella, and walking toward her with his usual distant expression. His eyes never even glanced her way, like this scene was too common to care about.
Seeing him, Venus felt a surge of hope. She wanted to grab his leg but stopped herself. Venus remembered his obsession with cleanliness. Axel never let anyone touch him.
Her trembling hand froze midair and slowly dropped.
"Axel," she said through sobs, her voice breaking, "please talk to Dad for me. I swear I didn't steal Bree's bracelet! I don't even know what Cartier is!"
But Axel just walked past her like he hadn't heard a thing.
"Axel!" Venus cried louder. She stumbled forward and grabbed his ankle, clinging on desperately.
He stopped but didn't turn around. His voice was calm, almost mechanical. "Get your filthy hands off me."
Venus shook her head. "Please, don't let them send me back. If they do, that drunk will kill me. I'm begging you, Axel, help me ... Just this once, I promise ... Please ... "
She'd stood for hours in the rain. Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper.
To Axel, her begging sounded fake—another act. He remembered the first time she came to the house. How she'd been caught stealing and hiding things under her bed.
And now she was at it again, still lying through her teeth. Disgust rose in his chest.
"Didn't steal, you say? Then why does everyone say you did?" His tone cut like ice.
"If one person accuses you, maybe it's not true. But if everyone does, what does that make you?
"Venus, this family has never raised someone as shameless as you. You're nothing but a disgrace to us all."
He paused, his voice chilling even more. "If you want to prove your innocence—go die."
Then he walked inside, slamming the door behind him.
Venus stood frozen in the storm, staring blankly at the closed door that had shut her out once again. Her knees shook as she tried to get up, barely able to stand.
When she turned her head, she saw the strange, expensive-looking sculpture beside her.
She remembered the first time she came to this house. Venus wanted to touch that pretty sculpture, but her younger sister, Bree Burn, scolded her. Bree said it was so expensive, and if Venus ruined it, she couldn't afford to replace it.
Yeah, that sculpture was precious. She mustn't get it dirty. Otherwise, her family would be mad again.
Venus stumbled toward the corner, dazed and lost.
Rumble!
A loud thunderclap drowned out the sound of her last desperate cry—her attempt to prove her innocence with her life.
The next day, at the city crematorium, workers were preparing to move the girl's body.
They zipped her into a body bag and placed her inside the casket. They were ready to push it toward the furnace when—
A cold, sharp voice came from inside.
"Earth divide, dust scatter—banish the taint, undo the binds—break!"
The lid burst open with a loud bang.
"Holy—she's come back to live!"
The workers fell back in shock as a pale, thin hand clawed its way out of the body bag.
"Arghhhhh! Help!"
Ten minutes later, the workers finally realized Venus hadn't really died. She just unconscious from head trauma.
One worker wiped his sweat, still shaking. "If I'd known you were alive, I would've stitched your head better. Should I send you to the hospital now?"
Venus touched the wound on her forehead. The stitches were tight and neat enough.
"It's fine," she said quietly.
The man looked at her skinny frame—malnourished, weak, barely alive—and felt sorry for her. He handed her a bottle of milk from his lunch bag. "You have any family here? Friends? Anyone I can call for you?"
The people who brought her here had said only one thing before leaving—"Keep the ashes. We don't want them." No ID, no information—nothing.
She must've had no one left. Poor girl.
Venus was so hungry she could barely move. She sat there and drank the milk quietly. Then she looked up at the man, studying his face.
"Your moon sign is low," she said. "That means unrest at home—your parents' health is shadowed. The moon falls deeper. It speaks of your mother's health. If she seeks help soon, the illness will pass. But if she delays, the knife will follow, and fate may not spare her."
The man blinked in confusion. "Huh? What are you talking about, kid?"
Venus stood, brushing off her sleeves. "Got to go. Consider that a reading in return for the milk."
The crematorium was far from the city. Venus leaned against a roadside tree, hands in her pockets, her pale face calm and distant.
She glanced at the faint whip marks on her hand. Despite her young face, there was a cold, unearthly sharpness in her eyes.
"So, I really came back."
She was Venus, but she was also the Oracle Supreme, reborn from 30 years in the future.
It all came back to her. She had been living in a quiet mountain town, far away from the city, for 18 years—until a year ago, Julian Burn, the richest man in Zrebert, found her and took her to his grand house in the busy city of Zrebert, claiming she was his real granddaughter.
But after she returned to her birth family, life didn't get better. No one ever treated her like family.
Every little problem in the house somehow became her fault.
Her childhood in the backwater town had already been harsh. Her foster father was a drunk and a gambler, and her foster mother was weak and silent, always afraid to speak up. Growing up in that environment had shaped her into someone shy, insecure, and desperate to please everyone.
When she came to Zrebert, she tried her hardest to make everyone happy. She smiled when she wanted to cry. Venus obeyed when she wanted to scream. Even though she lived in the richest home in the city, she ate scraps, wore old clothes, and looked pale and thin—more like a servant than a daughter of wealth.
This time, she was thrown out again because Bree had accused her of stealing a necklace.
Nobody believed her, not even her father. Every member of the family sided with Bree, calling her a thief, a liar, and a shame to their name.
Bree even whipped her in front of everyone, laughing as Venus fell to her knees, humiliated and broken.
To prove her innocence, Venus had slammed her head against the wall. Everything went black.
When she woke up, she was lying alone in the garden, not in a morgue.
She slowly lifted her eyes and saw a crematorium worker pulling up in a van.
The worker jumped out, smiling wide. "Hey, kid! You're amazing! I called my mom after talking to you. She'd been having bad stomach pain but refused to see a doctor. You told me to have her checked right away, and guess what? She really did have an infection. Thankfully, they caught it early. She'll be fine with medicine. How can I ever thank you?"
He looked at her with a grateful smile.
Venus gave a faint smile, her lips pale and weak. She said softly, "Mister, please take me home."