She had been in this world for several days now.
On this day, Megrie finally had a rare moment to herself. She decided to tidy up the cramped space that could hardly be called a "room." The bed was old, its wooden frame emitting faint, rhythmic creaks. As she picked up the pillow and gave it a firm shake, dust swirled into the air—and something fell out.
Clink.
A crisp, light sound echoed as the object rolled across the floor. Megrie leaned over and picked it up. It was a necklace—a delicate silver chain with a smooth, circular pendant, devoid of any ornate patterns.
She flipped it over, and her breath hitched. On the back, a name was engraved:
—Megrie.
Her hand trembled slightly. "This necklace... why is it here?"
She knew it far too well. She was so familiar with it that she could trace its weight and texture even with her eyes closed. In the modern world, she had owned one exactly like it. It was a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday. It wasn't an expensive piece of jewelry, yet she had worn it for nearly twenty years.
In her previous life, she was thirty-eight. She was a successful entrepreneur who owned her own catering brands and a chain of restaurants. To the public, she was a calm, decisive, and unquestionable leader. But in this moment, she felt like someone caught in a rift in time, standing frozen in place.
Suddenly, memories that did not belong to her flooded the depths of her mind.
A cold room. Clothes being snatched away.
She realized that this necklace had also been a gift from the City Lord—Megrie's father—for her eighteenth birthday. Fearing it would be confiscated, the girl had hidden it inside her pillow.
Hunger. Exhaustion. Days of being ignored.
And then—a girl's voice. Faint, urgent, echoing repeatedly in her ear:
"Save me..."
"Please... save me..."
Megrie jolted. That voice was not unfamiliar. Back in the modern world, she had heard it during her most exhausted moments. She had even seen a doctor, but everything had come back normal. No abnormalities. No illness.
Until that day.
Late that night, she had stayed behind at the restaurant to inspect the freshness of the ingredients. She had been exhausted. She was hungry. She walked to the stove, turned the gas dial—and then... A deafening roar. An explosion.
When she opened her eyes again, the world had changed. It wasn't a hospital. It was here.
Megrie slowly retracted her thoughts and looked at the necklace in her hand. She suddenly understood. If it had been the original Megrie—the sheltered daughter who never had to lift a finger—she never would have survived. In fact, she had died once already.
Megrie gripped the necklace tightly. In the empty room, she whispered:
"Is it you? Was it you... the Megrie of this world... who called out to me for help?"
The air gave no verbal reply. But in that heartbeat, she felt the necklace grow slightly warm against her palm.
Megrie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I understand."
She fastened the necklace around her neck, the silver pendant resting against her heart.
"Since you've handed your life to me," she whispered, her voice calm yet resolute, "I will live it well for you. I'll take back everything that was stolen, piece by piece."
As she pushed the door open to the hallway, a figure abruptly blocked her path.
"You again."
Megrie stopped, her tone flat, bordering on weary.
Standing before her was Loya.
He hadn't slept a wink. All night, he had lain in bed with a single thought circling his mind: Megrie has changed.
She was no longer weak or timid. She no longer walked with her head bowed as if she might snap at any moment. Loya couldn't wrap his head around it. In his mind, a girl who had been starving for so long couldn't suddenly possess such stamina—unless someone was secretly feeding her. And that "someone" had to be a man.
Loya stared at Megrie. She stood tall, her expression cool and composed. He suddenly realized something terrifying: Megrie was no longer a puppet to be controlled or ignored. And that discovery filled him with an inexplicable sense of dread.