"In every rebirth, the past waits — not to forgive, but to see if you've truly changed."
Steam drifted from the bathing hall, carrying the faint scent of lotus oil and herbs.
Crystal stepped out, her damp hair glimmering under the morning light. The silk robe she wore was simple, unlike the ornate clothes she once favored, but the faint confidence in her steps made her seem every bit the queen she once was.
And yet, her mind was a storm.
The warm air could not chase away the chill that lived in her chest.
Three weeks, she thought. Three weeks to do the impossible.
She wandered through the mansion's long corridors, bare feet silent against polished wood. Every corner she turned revealed familiar scenes — vases her grandfather had brought from the southern provinces, ancestral portraits she used to ignore, the same cherry blossom tree that brushed against the window she once broke during training.
Everything was the same.
Except her.
Her reflection in the window looked calm, but she could feel the truth beneath the surface — panic, exhaustion, fear.
She couldn't even cultivate properly.
Her meridians were sealed.
The faint hum of spiritual energy that once danced within her body was gone, replaced by silence. She had tried earlier — tried to draw in qi, to stabilize the chaos within her soul — but it was useless. The flow stopped before it began.
Her body and spirit were out of sync. She was a shell, half alive, tied together by a faint green thread that refused to let her die.
She clenched her fists.
"This body is a cage," she muttered.
Her mind wandered to her past life. It had been three years before her death — she was twelve when the tragedy happened. Her master had been ambushed by an immortal. The battle tore through half the mountain they lived on.
She could still remember her master's final act — using her own essence to protect Crystal's bloodline and cultivation. It had saved her, but at a cost.
The protection came with a seal. Her meridians had never fully recovered since.
It was the start of everything that went wrong.
The reason she had become desperate.
The reason she had followed Noah.
The reason she had died.
Now, as she walked the halls of her youth, she realized just how fragile it all was — how even a single moment could twist destiny beyond repair.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound.
Sniff… sniff…
It was coming from down the hall — soft, uneven, like the sound of a child crying.
Crystal frowned and followed it.
She stopped before a small wooden door near the end of the corridor. It was old, its edges worn, and sealed with a latch from the outside.
A locked room.
The sobbing grew clearer.
"Who's in there?" she asked quietly, pressing her ear to the door.
No answer — just the faint, broken sound of someone trying to cry quietly.
"Mira!" Crystal called.
Her maid appeared moments later, nervous as ever. "Y–Yes, my lady?"
"Open this door."
Mira hesitated. "That… that's the east storage room, my lady. You ordered it to be kept locked."
Crystal blinked. "I ordered it?"
"Yes," Mira whispered. "Months ago."
A strange unease filled her chest. "Open it," she said again, this time with steel in her voice.
The maid hesitated but obeyed. She unlatched the door with trembling hands.
The hinges groaned as the door creaked open.
The smell of stale air and dust drifted out.
Crystal stepped inside.
It was dark. The only light came from a crack in the window shutters, casting faint rays across the floor. In the corner, curled up beneath a thin blanket, was a small girl.
She couldn't have been more than ten.
Her hair was tangled, her skin pale, and her body frail — little more than skin and bone. She was hugging her knees, her face hidden, but her quiet sobs filled the room.
Crystal froze.
For a moment, her mind went blank.
That face — that presence — she knew it.
Her throat tightened as she whispered, "…Aria?"
The girl flinched at the sound of her name but didn't look up.
Crystal's legs trembled. Memories flashed before her eyes — laughter, tears, a tiny hand reaching for hers.
Her sister.
Her little sister.
Alive.
Tears welled in Crystal's eyes before she even realized it.
She had thought Aria had died when she was seventeen — poisoned, they said, by servants jealous of the general's household. But that wasn't true. She remembered now.
No. She was the reason.
Crystal's heart ached. I hated her. I blamed her for everything.
After their parents' death, she had turned her pain into cruelty. Their father and mother had died not long after Aria's birth, and in her grief, Crystal had despised her sister — a child who reminded her of everything she'd lost.
When their grandfather was away, she had locked Aria in dark rooms for crying too much. She had ignored her, insulted her, told herself that it was discipline.
In truth, it was punishment.
And now, seeing that same little girl alive again — weak, hungry, afraid — she felt her heart break.
Crystal's body shook with laughter — quiet at first, then louder.
The sound made everyone in the hall flinch.
"L–Lady Crystal?" Mira whispered, terrified.
Even the little girl looked up, eyes wide with fear.
Crystal laughed harder, wiping tears from her eyes. "Heaven really is cruel," she said softly. "They gave me a second chance… but not without a price."
Her laughter died slowly.
Aria stared at her in confusion and fear, her lips trembling. "S–Sister… please… don't lock me up again."
Those words pierced through Crystal like a blade.
She took a step forward.
"Aria…"
The girl whimpered, crawling backward until her back hit the wall. "Please don't hurt me…"
Crystal froze mid-step, pain twisting her chest.
The maids, realizing what the girl had said, immediately rushed to stand between them. "My lady, please! She's too young, she's frightened—"
Crystal looked at them — the fear in their eyes, the memories reflected in their faces — and for the first time, she understood just how monstrous her past self had been.
Her voice softened. "I'm not going to hurt her."
No one moved.
She repeated, more firmly this time, "Carry her to my room."
The maids hesitated, but the tone of command in her voice left no room for argument. They gently lifted the trembling girl and followed Crystal back to her chambers.
Hours later, the physicians arrived. They examined Aria carefully and confirmed what Crystal already suspected.
"She's not ill," one of them said, bowing respectfully. "Just malnourished. She needs rest, warmth, and food."
Crystal nodded silently. "Thank you. Leave us."
When everyone had gone, she sat beside the bed where her sister now slept.
Aria's breathing was soft, her small hands clutching the blanket tightly. She looked fragile, almost transparent, like she might disappear if touched too roughly.
Crystal reached out and brushed a strand of hair from the child's forehead.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, silent and unrestrained.
"I was so blind," she whispered. "So cruel."
The world outside her window shimmered with the light of dusk, the cherry blossoms swaying gently in the wind.
Crystal leaned back in her chair, her gaze distant.
Maybe this was her true second chance — not just to live, but to atone.
She looked at the faint green thread still glowing near her chest, invisible to everyone else.
"If heaven wants me to change," she murmured, "then I'll start here."
The room grew quiet again, filled only with the sound of Aria's slow breathing.
Crystal smiled faintly, a sad, tired smile.
"Sleep well, little sister," she whispered. "This time, I'll protect you."
"Redemption begins not in battle, but in the quiet moments when guilt meets love."