Substitute Illusion

chapter 1

I followed Tristan for three years.

With this face, I became a stand-in for his idealized love.

Everyone thought I was a bird in a gilded cage.

But who would have guessed that this was all my choice?

Because the heart that beats in Tristan's chest originally belonged to my beloved...

Tristan held me as he always did, wrapping me in his embrace as we slept. My ear was pressed tightly against his chest, and in the quiet of the night, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat brought me a sense of peace.

I had been with Tristan for three years. To get close to him, I had deliberately altered my appearance to resemble his first love, his "white moonlight." I meticulously mimicked her every expression and gesture, all to be by his side. Because the heart beating in his chest belonged to my lover, Rory.

Years ago, I had watched helplessly as Rory was hit by a car right in front of me and taken away by the arriving medical team. When I rushed to the hospital, I was told they had not received such a patient.

Desperate for answers, I did everything I could to find evidence, even resorting to compromising my dignity. Eventually, I discovered the truth: Rory was dead, and his heart had been transplanted into the body of Tristan, the head of the Roberts Group.

I had heard that Tristan had a congenital heart defect. Although I found a consent form in Tristan's office, signed by Rory agreeing to donate his heart, and I recognized Rory's signature, something still felt off. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story.

I had never stopped searching for the truth of that year, but my efforts had been in vain.

In the darkness, I gazed at Tristan's silhouette. Over the years, Tristan had treated me well, but I knew it was only because I resembled his married first love.

Sometimes, I wondered if it was because of that heart. Despite their completely different features, I often felt as if I were back in the days when Rory was still alive. But I was clear-headed; I would never fall in love with Tristan. The only thing I loved was that beating heart.

Because of that heart, I always kept a close eye on Tristan's routines. Whenever he pulled all-nighters for work or came home drunk from social events, I would frown in anger and worry. I feared he would damage the heart that belonged to my lover.

During those times, he would massage his forehead and patiently promise me it wouldn't happen again. The warmth in his eyes often mirrored the gentle gaze of Rory in my memories. He always gave me the illusion that he had been in love with me for a long time.

I frowned and shook my head, trying to dispel these chaotic thoughts. Even if he did love me, what difference would it make? I was just a stand-in.

What I needed to do now was to uncover the truth behind Rory's death and protect the heart he had left behind.