"Even a soul reborn must first learn to live inside the shell it once left behind."
The capital city of Asterion was alive again.
Morning had given way to a full bloom of day. Market bells rang in the distance, monks chanted at shrines, and sword cultivators sparred in the courtyards. The fragrance of steamed buns and spiritual tea wafted through the streets.
But inside the General's Mansion, the atmosphere was… different.
It wasn't the tranquil harmony of cultivation or the disciplined order of a noble household.
It was chaos.
Pure, awkward, comedic chaos.
"THE SYSTEM! IT'S TALKING TO ME!"
That shout from Crystal echoed across the entire hall, followed by the sound of several physicians tripping over each other as they scrambled backward.
"The Lady's gone mad!" one of them cried.
"Fetch the exorcist!" yelled another.
"Someone get the talisman seals! She's possessed by a demon!"
Half the servants dropped their trays, the head maid fainted on the spot, and one brave soul started drawing a protection circle in the corner with chalk — upside down.
It would have been terrifying, if not for the fact that the cause of all this panic was a fifteen-year-old girl standing on her bed, waving her arms dramatically at a blank wall.
"System, I'm talking to you!" Crystal demanded. "Don't you dare ignore me after throwing me into this mess!"
Her long black hair fell over her shoulders as she glared at the ceiling, as if heaven itself owed her an explanation.
Of course, no one else could see what she was seeing.
Or rather — not seeing.
Because there was nothing there.
The physicians whispered nervously among themselves. "Did she just call the heavens… 'you cowardly green box?'"
Crystal froze mid-rant and glanced at them. "What? I didn't say that aloud."
"You did, my lady."
She blinked. "…Oh."
Her maid, Mira — pale as parchment — stepped forward hesitantly. "My lady, perhaps you should lie down again?"
"I'm fine," Crystal said too quickly.
"You're yelling at the wall."
"I— that's part of my cultivation method!" she snapped, crossing her arms.
The room fell into stunned silence.
A physician whispered, "A cultivation method that involves shouting at the furniture?"
Crystal smiled stiffly. "…Yes."
The man immediately dropped to his knees. "Truly, Her Ladyship's path is profound beyond mortal comprehension!"
The others followed his lead, bowing in reverence — or more accurately, panic.
Crystal sighed, rubbing her temples. Heaven save me from idiots.
After a few more minutes of confusion, she waved her hand impatiently. "Everyone out. All of you."
"But—"
"That's an order."
The tone of her voice — sharp, commanding, unmistakably that of a seasoned general — froze everyone mid-breath.
The servants glanced at each other, then hurried out like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
The door slid shut, leaving only Crystal and Mira in the room.
For a long moment, silence reigned.
Crystal let out a deep sigh, finally sitting down on the edge of her table. "Mira," she muttered, "how long was I unconscious?"
"Two days, my lady."
Crystal nodded absently, then straightened, her expression turning thoughtful. "Good. Then I should start cultivating again."
Mira blinked. "…Now?"
"Yes. Why not?"
Mira wisely chose not to question further.
Crystal climbed up onto the table, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes. The faint hum of qi filled the air as she began to regulate her breathing.
Inhale. Exhale.
She reached inward, toward the familiar sensation of energy that once flowed effortlessly through her meridians.
But something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
The moment she tried to draw in spiritual energy, her body stiffened. A cold, hollow sensation spread through her core — like trying to fill a broken jar with water.
Her body was here. Her soul… wasn't.
It was like being a puppet — flesh without true control.
Crystal gasped and opened her eyes. "What—?"
Then she saw it.
A faint, glowing thread — green and barely visible — connected to her chest and stretched out into the air, vanishing beyond sight.
Her hand trembled as she reached toward it. "A string…" she whispered.
It wasn't physical. It was spiritual.
That thread wasn't holding her together — it was pulling her.
Her body was no longer her true self. She was being anchored, tied to something — or someone — far beyond this world.
"So this is what the system meant," she murmured, her eyes dimming. "If that thread breaks… I die."
She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to calm down. The system hadn't appeared since her awakening, but this thread proved it hadn't lied. Her body and spirit weren't one. Not yet.
And she only had three weeks.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, trembling voice. "M–My lady?"
Crystal turned. Mira was standing frozen by the wall, still too afraid to move.
"You're still here?"
Mira nodded rapidly. "I— I was worried you'd start shouting at the walls again."
Crystal stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "Fair."
After a pause, she asked, "Mira, where's my grandfather?"
The maid blinked. "The General? He's… not here, my lady. His Majesty sent him to the border two months ago — to oversee a peace negotiation with the Eastern Tribes."
The words hit Crystal like a blade.
Her throat tightened. "He's… alive?"
"Yes, my lady. Though the journey is dangerous, the General is said to be in good health."
For a moment, Crystal couldn't speak. She felt something deep inside her break — but not from pain. From relief.
He was alive.
Her grandfather — the man who had raised her, who had taught her to wield a blade and bear the name Asterion with pride — was still alive.
She didn't even realize she was crying until Mira gasped. "M–My lady! What's wrong?"
Crystal wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve and forced a trembling smile. "Nothing. I just… forgot what it felt like to have someone left to miss."
Mira blinked, confused but touched.
After a long moment, Crystal straightened her back, forcing the emotion away. "Prepare a bath. I've been dead long enough — it's time to feel alive again."
Mira nodded quickly and rushed to obey, grateful for an order that made sense.
As the maid hurried out, Crystal sat there a moment longer, eyes distant. Her reflection in the window showed a young girl with the eyes of a weary warrior.
"So this is my second chance," she murmured softly. "Fine. Let's see how long I can keep it."
Outside, the mansion was quiet again. The air shimmered faintly with morning light, and for a moment, all seemed calm.
But elsewhere — in a locked, dimly lit room deep within the estate — another story unfolded.
The room was small, sealed with wooden bars and shrouded in darkness. A faint sob echoed from within, soft and heartbreaking.
A little girl — no more than ten — sat curled up in the corner, her face hidden against her knees.
Outside the door, a maid knocked gently. "My lady… please don't cry. Lady Crystal has awakened. I will beg her to free you."
Silence.
The girl didn't answer. Her shoulders trembled, the sound of her sobs muffled by the darkness.
The maid lingered for a moment, then stepped away, leaving the girl alone once more.
Inside, the child whispered through her tears — words too faint for anyone to hear.
And the mansion, caught between chaos and silence, waited for whatever fate was about to unfold next.
"Even in laughter, sorrow hides — waiting for the heart to remember what it lost."