I was a bit prettier than the average girl with my waist length straight blonde hair, pale milky snow-like skin, small face, long fluttery eyelashes, big slightly cat shaped aquamarine colored eyes, and a mature hourglass body.
My parents were both models and had me who was a combination of their looks. I occasionally helped them with their work by modeling for them when I was younger.
I never found myself particularly special because of my looks. I felt mostly burdened by them. Most girls and boys my age kept their distances and watched me from afar, so I was mostly alone in or out of school.
Occasionally, there would be someone who would come up to me and confess their feelings for me, but if I asked them what they liked about me, most of them would say it was my looks that attracted them. If it were not for my looks, I would just be another invisible person. My personality was so plain itself that people had a difficult time remembering details about me other than what I looked like.
A few people in my life shared the more excessive side of love than others and often caused me trouble in both my work and personal life. No longer wanting to be a bother to my family or colleagues, I left the modeling job I cared for dearly and tried to live a quiet life near as normal life as possible.
However, trouble still continued to follow me around wherever I went...
I eventually became an adult and entered my desired workplace after fighting with blood, sweat, and tears. Finally, I thought I had escaped that difficult life of constantly having to move around and stepping around everyone's toes.
I was even able to build a relationship with my coworkers. A little after I entered my workplace, a coworker of mine asked me out. He was my superior and older than me by almost ten years, yet we had a amiable relationship after working together for a short time.
I was far from loving him. I accepted his feelings because I thought that I could return his feelings to him one day.
On my way back home, my most crazed stalker who was also my former home tutor who had shown extreme tendencies for me somehow found my new home address despite me going as far as changing my own name. He threw himself at me and stabbed me in my stomach right outside my home.
"...Why?" I asked him as I fell against a wall and slid down with my back to it.
I had many stalkers, so I never quite lived in the same place for a long time. My tutor was a bit more aggressive and more persistent than the others. He felt that I was his property and often ruined my relationships with my friends to make me want to depend on him.
He took things too far when he tried to assault me in my own room. I issued a restraining order against him, but he found me again in the end.
"You are supposed to be mine! How could you go and date someone else? You cheater! Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!" he screamed as he got on top of me and continuously gave me stab wounds. "If only it were not for your pretty face! If only you didn't have that pretty face, you would only be mine!"
If I did not have this pretty face, surely you would not like me either...
At some point, I no longer felt the sensation of getting stabbed anymore and found my body growing cold.
When I awoke, I found that I had transmigrated into the murder mystery novel I was reading before I died.
I was now Lilian Lemaire, the heroine's best friend who was destined to die from a stalker...