Summary
I transmigrated into a fake heiress famed for being as placid as a chrysanthemum, and the heroine bound me to a mind-reading system to expose my supposedly aloof, high-minded act.
When the heroine fought me over a dress, all she heard was my private thought: I really wanted an orange, but I had to stay serene, so I would secretly eat one under the covers later.
The real heiress could only stare.
When a powerful CEO tried to stand up for her, he heard me admiring his ergonomic chair and planning to photograph it for an image search rather than ask for the link.
He was equally baffled.
Later, when someone accused me of pretending to be above it all, the real heiress said, “No… she genuinely doesn’t care.”


