I Transmigrated Into My Enemy’s Body

“Miss, you’ve been standing here all by yourself all day. Who was the deceased to you?”

I glanced back at the crematorium attendant and answered calmly, “I was the deceased.”

The attendant’s face turned ashen with fear. Only after he confirmed that I looked nothing like the woman in the memorial photo did he finally speak. His voice was still trembling.

“Miss, this isn’t something you should joke about.”

I walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

“If you knew it was a joke, why did you still get scared?”

The truth was, I had not lied to him.