Chapter 1My Dead Brother Possessed a Dog to Steal My Life

After my little brother, Cochran Ceberano, dies in a car crash, my parents hand the toy poodle he raised over to me.

But I haul the dog to an unlicensed, back-alley animal clinic right away and have him neutered.

Why? Because I've been reborn.

In my previous life, on the day the dog arrives at our house, he suddenly turns vicious, scratching and biting me at every turn.

Afraid of upsetting my parents, I bend over backward to win him over. I feed him the best dog food, and I even sleep next to him on the couch. But he only gets worse.

Day by day, my sanity crumbles. Insomnia sets in, followed by auditory hallucinations. I even start dreaming that he's chasing me down and tearing me apart every night.

Unable to endure it any longer, I hesitantly suggest rehoming the dog.

Dad flies into a rage at this, slapping me hard across the face.

"Rehome it? He's the only piece of your brother left in this world, and you can't even tolerate him? How can you be so cruel and heartless?"

Mom doesn't say anything. She just clutches the dog close to her as she sobs.

Driven to the brink by the relentless torment, I finally snap and jump out of a 30-story window.

After I die, I drift into the sky in my ghost form, only to discover something that leaves me stunned.

Cochran, who supposedly died in the car crash, is awake and alive.

My parents throw their arms around him, weeping tears of joy.

"The shaman was right! As long as your soul inhabits a dog and stays next to an immediate family member for seven full weeks, you can exchange lives with her!"

Only then do I realize that the toy poodle was never just a dog.

He was my own little brother.

* * *

It was the third day after my younger brother, Cochran Ceberano, died in a car crash.

Mom's eyes were swollen from crying as she placed the brown toy poodle in my arms.

"Erika, this is Teddy. Your brother is gone, and this toy poodle is the only thing he left behind for us to remember him by. You have to take good care of him for Cochran's sake."

Dad stood right beside her, his eyes also glistening with tears.

"This dog was closest to your brother. Cochran loved Teddy more than anything when he was still alive. If you can't even handle such a simple thing for him, you don't deserve to have called yourself his sister for the past 20-odd years."

I looked down at the dog. He was nothing like the sweet, obedient pup I'd seen at Cochran's place before. Curled up in my arms, he kept baring his teeth at me.

Before I could say a word, he opened his mouth and bit down hard on the back of my hand. I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

Mom didn't seem concerned at all.

"Teddy's just a bit stressed out from being in a new environment," she explained flatly. "Don't take it personally."

"Just spend more time with him. He'll warm up to you eventually," Dad chimed in.

I stared at the bleeding puncture marks on the back of my hand, saying nothing. I knew this wasn't stress.

It had been exactly the same in my previous life. He bit me on the first day, scratched me on the second, and peed in my food on the third.

Back then, I'd thought he was just an unruly dog. Not wanting to upset my parents, I did everything I could to win him over.

I bought him the best dog food, took him downstairs for walks, and even let him sleep next to me in bed so he wouldn't get cold at night.

None of it worked. He continued biting me without hesitation.

Yet, whenever Dad petted him, he'd roll over and ask for belly rubs. When Mom held him, he'd lick her hands. He'd even wag his tail when the delivery guy showed up.

I was the only person he bit whenever he laid eyes on me. He bit my hands, my ankles, and my calves. There was no escaping him.

Whenever I suggested rehoming him, Dad would fly into a rage. "He's the only piece of your brother left in this world, and you can't even tolerate him? How can you be so cruel and heartless?"

Mom didn't say a word. She just held Teddy in her arms and cried. And the dog, nestled in her arms, would tilt his head at me and look at me with eyes full of smug satisfaction.

And so I endured it all. I endured it for 49 days.

During the day, I kept having auditory hallucinations, constantly imagining I could hear a dog barking. At night, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed of him chasing me down and mauling me, and I'd startle awake, drenched in cold sweat.

I went to the hospital, but the doctor said there was nothing physically wrong with me. It was psychological, and I needed to relax.

Mom and Dad grew increasingly impatient with me.

"Why are you being so petty over a dog?"