They said emperors remembered everything — wars, treaties, bloodlines, and the precise tones of every noble's voice in the court.
But Emperor Xuanlie could not remember her.
Not fully.
Only flickers, brief sparks in the dark: the way her hand had once gripped a pencil in that strange world, how her voice trembled when she quoted a poem, her face illuminated by the glow of unnatural lights.
And yet, no matter how hard he tried to piece it together, her name in that life would not come.
Still, something inside him — deeper than memory, older than blood — knew her.
Lady Yan.
No. That wasn't who she truly was. He felt it when he looked at her, when he heard her speak without fear, when she challenged him with questions meant for someone who had lived far beyond this palace.
She was a ghost of a world he couldn't name.
Or maybe he was the ghost, haunting her life by mistake.
Eira stood at the edge of the lotus pond, watching koi swim in lazy spirals beneath the moonlight. Everything in this world moved slower, softer — but the pain inside her hadn't changed.
She still remembered the car that hit her. The scent of blood and metal. The last words she had whispered as she faded into the black: "No one will even notice I'm gone."
And now, here she was. In someone else's body. With someone else's enemies. With a heart that somehow recognized the one person she never wanted to see again.
She had hated Kai Ren.
He was cruel without reason, confident without kindness. He had embarrassed her, ignored her, made her feel like her voice didn't matter.
But this Emperor…
He was different.
Or was he?
Two days had passed since he had stood so close, since he had whispered "I see you now."
And then, silence.
He hadn't summoned her. No guards. No secret messages. The phoenix seals on her palace doors remained untouched.
Typical, she thought bitterly. He opens a door and then walks away.
She had decided then — if he wouldn't look for answers, she would.
So she went to the Imperial Archives.
Only a handful of consorts were ever allowed entry, and she had used her newfound "favor" as leverage. The guards hesitated, but one whisper of the Emperor's recent visit to the Phoenix Palace was enough.
"Her Grace may enter. Alone," they said.
The Archive was a place of dust and silence, a forest of bamboo scrolls and ancient records. Eira wandered row by row until she found what she was looking for — the Chronicle of the Lost Empress.
There was once a woman named Yan Lanyue, beloved by the Emperor, who vanished one night without a trace. Rumors claimed she was a witch, or perhaps cursed by a jealous rival. Others said she had left behind a diary, but it had been hidden.
As she turned each scroll, her hands trembled.
Then she found it — a loose slip of faded parchment folded between records.
It wasn't official. It was... personal. A letter, written by the Empress herself.
"They will call me mad for dreaming of a world where metal chariots breathe fire and words fly across the sky. But I have seen it. I have lived there. And there is someone I cannot forget. I fear… he lives twice, as I do. Once as the man I love. And once as the man who would never see me at all."
Eira sank to her knees.
This wasn't just déjà vu. It was something deeper.
There had been another girl. Another life. Another soul like hers trapped in a body not her own.
And she had loved the same man.
That night, the Emperor stood before the ancient mirror in his private study.
He touched the surface, expecting it to be cold. But it burned — just for a second — and in its depths, he saw not his own reflection, but hers.
Not Lady Yan.
But the girl in torn jeans and rain-soaked hair. The one who once cried behind the university bookstore. The one he once ignored.
And for the first time in his life, Emperor Xuanlie — Kai Ren — whispered her name.
"Eira."
Meanwhile, across the palace grounds, Eira returned to her quarters, scroll still clutched in her hand.
She lit a single candle and sat at the writing table.
If the Empress of the past had left a letter… maybe she should do the same.
To the man who forgot me,
You once made me feel like I didn't exist. And yet now, you are the only person who proves I'm alive. I don't know if you remember who I was. But I remember who we were.
In your world, I was nothing. In this one… I may be your only truth.
— Eira
She folded the letter. And placed it under her pillow.
Just in case she never woke up again.