CHAPTER 2
I tried to speak up, to protest that it wasn’t true, absolutely not true—but they had already made up their minds. There was no room for change.
“Would any criminal ever willingly confess to their own crime? Lady Gongnyeo—no, I suppose we should now call you Inerea. Your blood was found at the site where the Duchess’s body was buried.”
“…….”
“The results were confirmed by fourteen mages and two priests. So, tell us. What could be more conclusive than this?”
It felt like my blood was boiling in reverse.
That night, the night my mother died, I had gone up the mountain with my father when he asked me to follow him.
On the way, I stumbled over rocks and scratched myself on branches that jutted out. I could remember it all so clearly.
Was it then that I bled from those scratches?
That’s it? That’s all it takes to brand me the murderer?
“What other evidence do you have? If you saw the body, you’d know it wasn’t me!”
It was a meaningless outburst.
As I stepped back, armed knights began slowly approaching, drawing their swords.
I swallowed dryly at the sight of their sharpened blades. My throat bobbed.
The moment they took another step toward me—
I turned on my heel and sprinted toward the terrace.
The commotion behind me erupted instantly, but I had no choice.
There was nowhere else to run.
I jumped from the terrace—not too high, not too low.
When you think you’re already as good as dead, there’s no reason to hesitate.
Thud!
I hit the ground and rolled, but there was no time to stop.
I ran with all the strength I had left.
I just needed to get away, to hide somewhere where no one could find me.
I was utterly sick of it all.
I don’t know how long I ran.
Without a drop of water, until the soles of my feet were raw, I just kept running and running.
By the time I came to my senses, I was in the mountains.
From that day on, I wore borrowed clothes from beggars and survived on stale bread I scavenged.
By now, I was surely a wanted fugitive.
Whenever I saw knights drawing near, I fled without question.
“This life is worse than death.”
Surviving for three years was a miracle.
I lived like a thief, hiding in the mountains, but humans have their limits.
I was dying.
As if my life had finally reached its end.
I had no more strength to run, no more energy to move.
All I could do was draw faint, labored breaths.
I leaned against a tree and looked up at the blurry silhouette of a man approaching.
“Have you come to greet me, Grim Reaper?”
I muttered toward the knight who seemed to pose a threat.
Looking at him, I thought of my father.
No, I didn’t even want to call that man my father.
My dying body had no life left in it.
I had fought so hard, full of resentment, grief, and despair—only to end like this.
“Congratulations, I suppose. You finally caught the traitor.”
I spat out the words, my voice hoarse and broken, as if scratching at a wound.
Everything hurt, I had no strength to move, and the knight with the sword looked grim.
Today, I would die.
“At least the Duke…”
Where would my resentment go, with nowhere to rest?
“I wanted to drag him into the abyss with my own hands.”
My voice, feeble and fading like my life, barely held shape.
“If only I had power…”
I couldn’t even feel pain anymore.
“Would things… have been different?”
All I felt was a burning in my chest, my heart pounding like fire.
I saw the knight raise his sword, just inches from my face.
Clutching my chest, my vision dimmed, and I murmured my final words.
“I want power—enough power that no one can ever trample me again.”
Power vast enough to change this wretched life I couldn’t even grasp in my hand.
I don’t know whether I exhaled my final breath first, or whether my heart stopped from the knight’s blade.
I just closed my eyes, never to open them again.
Or so I thought.
But when I awoke from what I believed to be an eternal sleep—
I was nineteen again, back on the very day my mother had died.
And just like before, my father reached out his hand, asking me to follow him.
Once again, my mother had been buried cold and alone in the mountains, and my father had “again” slipped from the cliff, reaching for my help.
And this time…
His hand never reached me.
“Goodbye,” I said.
Simply, kindly—and nothing more.
✦ ✦ ✦
This can’t be real!
I clutched my head, overwhelmed by the crashing sense of reality.
Avoiding everyone’s gaze, I stumbled into my room and wiped my tears.
“To think I’m crying again, in this room that’s always felt like a prison.”
I collapsed onto the cold floor of the unlit, lifeless room and muttered.
A space devoid of scent or warmth, as if no one lived here—this was where I had spent my entire life.
My heart, pounding as if ready to burst from my chest, finally began to calm.
I sat quietly for a moment and looked down at my hands.
Moonlight gently poured through the window. My body was covered in scratches and bruises.
The sight was proof enough that everything I had experienced was real.
I clenched my fists tightly.
It hurts… it really hurts.
“This can’t be real.”
But it wasn’t a dream. Not a passing vision before death.
My entire body trembled like a leaf.
I didn’t know why I was shaking so much, but I couldn’t stop the strange laughter that escaped me either.
“What the hell… ha! What is this?”
I tore off my white linen nightgown.
The pain of my wounds made me wince, but I couldn’t stop the giggling that escaped as I muttered,
“I really came back to the past.”
To the day my mother died…! I’d turned back time—three years of it.
“See you in hell, Father.”
I burned my filthy clothes.
The acrid stench was enough to make me pinch my nose, but my footsteps as I ran to the bathroom were light as air.
“If life means crawling on the ground, I refuse it.”
In my last life, I had saved my father, had pulled him up with all my strength when he reached out to me as if he were my lifeline.
This time, I didn’t take his hand.
I wondered—how did he feel when I left him hanging?
As a refreshing smile spread across my face, an unwelcome thought suddenly crossed my mind.
“Those knights…”
The men who had seen a scene they absolutely shouldn’t have—men who must not find out.
Their voices, speaking as if granting me mercy, echoed faintly in my mind. But I shook my head.
“It’s fine. There’s no evidence.”
Besides, they were camping on land owned by the Duke’s family.
If I tracked them, I could find out who they were in no time.
So for now, I would bask in the joy of this victory, as if raising a toast to the miracle of returned time.
The grand bathroom, with its cold floor and lack of warmth, felt like icy rain pouring over me with every step.
“I never thought I’d miss this.”
I dipped my hand in the frigid water.
A shiver ran through my body.
Even this cold water was better than what I’d had before.
No one had ever warmed the water for me when I lived in the Duke’s house anyway.
When I was on the run, bathing at all was a luxury.
The piercing chill made my shoulders tremble. It felt like ice needles were stabbing my feet.
I tilted my head back.
“It’s not the cold I missed.”
The spacious bathroom, the purified water, the luxurious marble, and the extravagant decorations.
In the depths of my crawling life, these were the things I missed.
In the mirror on one side, I saw my reflection.
Narrowing my eyes, I slowly stood.
I nearly slipped from the wet floor, but managed to keep my balance and approached the mirror, using the dim light to guide me.
“This…”
What is this?
The image in the mirror felt so unfamiliar.
Wavy black hair with a sheen even in the dark, gray eyes, neatly trimmed nails, healthy skin.
I thought of my body from before—damaged, broken, with not a single part untouched.
Of course someone from the Duke’s house, neglected and hunted, wouldn’t have a pristine body.
But as I looked at this normal, healthy form, something unsettled me deeply.
I brushed my hand over my left chest.
There, on my pale skin, was a large, dark-red scar.
The uneven texture beneath my fingertips sent chills up my spine.
“What… is this?”
A scar, red and raised like a spiderweb over my heart.
It was something I never had before.
I trembled as I touched the pinkish mark with shaking hands.
A memory flashed through my mind.
Right before I died—the sound of my heart pounding, like it was on fire.
“…”
No way…
“Is this… a mark from then?”
A trace of death, etched into my chest.
