– Chapter 9 –
Linea had a dream.
In the dream, Linea was floating without a body.
There was none of the discomfort she had felt around her neck—like the collar made from twisted clothing cutting into her skin—or the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest. She just floated, painlessly and senselessly.
“What on earth… suicide?!”
Her father, Wilson, was raging furiously. Her mother, Monica, let out a sigh.
“You can’t even bury someone who committed suicide properly. Honestly, it’s a disgrace to the family.”
A disgrace to the family. That word stirred something deep inside her numb heart—something familiar and piercing.
It was pain.
“If I knew it would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have given birth to her! All she brings is shame.”
Her mother spoke coldly.
She didn’t want to see this scene anymore. Linea closed her eyes, even though she had no eyelids in the dream.
“Then let’s see something else.”
A voice. A familiar voice. That’s nice… but…
The scene shifted. This time it was the family cemetery. People dressed in black whispered.
“I heard they almost didn’t let her be buried here?”
“Because it’s taboo to bury a suicide in a family cemetery with proper rites. But, well… His Majesty the Emperor…”
“Ah, you mean Duke Shuhebers. He still seems sharp.”
“Yes. But with the Emperor so furious, they had no choice. They made up a murderer and pretended it was a homicide so they could bury her.”
“Why would the Emperor care about something like this? Isn’t that strange?”
She could recognize the person standing in front of the tombstone. It was Clara. Dressed in mourning black, Clara lowered her eyes in pain and bit her lip.
“…If only I hadn’t said those useless things.”
Clara was the only one genuinely grieving.
And again, more murmurs.
“The fiancé didn’t even come to the funeral?”
“Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t if he had any decency.”
“Still, shouldn’t he have come…?”
“He’s been busy expanding his business. Though apparently, he did stop by the night before to see the body. Maybe he did love her.”
“I heard he took one of her personal belongings as a keepsake.”
The future of the man she had loved—something she didn’t want to know.
No. No. No. Linea writhed in anguish. Then, the scene shifted again.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
The voices she had grown up hearing now sounded closer, more tangible. Linea opened her eyes.
Why are you here?
“We are everywhere in this world.”
“We’ve watched over you since before you were born.”
“The day you were born, we were so happy that we spoke to you.”
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
No, that’s not true.
Only after escaping the chains of her body could Linea feel it—the affection of the “friends” who had watched over her since birth. Not through words or actions, but through the time itself that had seeped into her.
They were in everything—sky and earth, wind and water, fire and light, cold and the flow of all things.
You were spirits…
“Yes.”
“We’re not allowed to say our names aloud.”
“That’s why we couldn’t tell you.”
So you weren’t evil spirits. You were always watching over me…
…But I didn’t know. I ignored you. I blamed you.
“That’s not true, Linea.”
“It’s true that we couldn’t help you.”
“When you desperately needed someone…”
“We couldn’t do anything to stop this from happening to you.”
“We’re sorry.”
No.
Even the idea of asking someone for help was wrong from the start.
That was my mistake. I waited my whole life for someone to reach out—and this is how I ended up. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.
I was rash. I depended too easily. I gave up too quickly. I was weak.
I was weak.
“No, Linea. No.”
“You tried your best. It just didn’t come through.”
Even that failure is my fault.
…If I had a second chance…
If I had one more chance, I wouldn’t die like that. I wouldn’t live like that. I’d never walk into that living hell again.
But it’s too late.
………
………
Linea sat blankly. Completely empty. The years she had endured in agony were crumbling away inside her.
And then.
“If you could live once more…”
“Then promise—never to take your own life again.”
“Promise to survive.”
What are you talking about?
“We love you. Don’t forget that, Linea. Our friend.”
Linea opened her eyes.
And then—
* * *
“Gasp!”
A short, gasping breath escaped as if she were taking her first breath in life.
When Linea opened her eyes, she was in her own room. She stared up at the canopy for a long while before slowly moving her eyes around. Familiar surroundings came into view.
“…My room?”
Her voice was hoarse from sleep, but not strained. Strange—her throat should be damaged after being choked.
Linea looked around in disbelief. Her nightgown clung to her body, soaked in cold sweat, and her breath came in ragged gasps, as if she’d run a marathon.
Fear gripped her entire being, keeping her eyes wide open. As she looked around, she instinctively touched her neck. It was smooth and intact. Why?
“My neck…”
Feeling her own neck, Linea rushed to the mirror. But no matter how hard she looked, her neck remained pale and flawless—without a single mark.
“No… that can’t be.”
She had definitely died. The feeling of her throat being strangled, her eyes bulging—it was vivid. That memory alone made her shudder. She wrapped her arms around herself.
So it was all a dream? Not real?
But it felt so real. Even more than the physical pain, the emotional agony still lingered.
Then she remembered the final words—whether from a dream or not.
“If you could live once more…”
“Then promise—never to take your own life again.”
“Promise to survive.”
Survive…
Linea exhaled heavily.
She tried to retrace the nightmare, but nothing was certain. Could a dream really feel that real? Even down to the moment of her suicide?
Her fingers brushed against something at her neck. She lifted the string—it was the red gemstone pendant Cadil had given her.
The moment she remembered Cadil, Linea tore off the pendant and flung it away.
She didn’t know whether it had been a dream or reality. But one thing was certain—she couldn’t bear to see Cadil right now.
Still panting, Linea tried to stand, but staggered and fell back onto the chair. A wave of dizziness washed over her—not the usual kind, but something rising from deep within her chest.
And then—
“Linea!”
“Linea!”
Voices called her name in unison. Linea looked up in surprise.
“You guys? Is it really you?”
“Linea! You finally took it off!”
“Are you okay, Linea? You’re back!”
“Back? And wait—how… until now, I didn’t… ah!”
“If you wear that pendant, you won’t hear them anymore. Those evil spirits won’t be able to reach you.”
That was what Cadil had said when he gave her the pendant. Since then, she had worn it constantly, like a part of her body. To her, the pendant was a symbol of Cadil’s concern, care, and love.
“I was… pushing you all away. I believed everything that man said.”
“It’s okay, Linea.”
“We’re just happy we can talk to you again. So happy.”
“So glad you’re safe, Linea.”
“That guy was so mean! Calling us evil spirits!”
Linea burst out laughing. Tears welled up.
A maid opened the door, startled by Linea’s laughter.
“Miss? Is something wrong?”
“No. Leave. I need to talk with my friends.”
“Friends? But you’re alone in the room…”
Linea calmly looked at the maid.
“They’re right here—my friends.”
The maid went pale. Seeing her reaction, Linea smirked mischievously.
* * *
Linea unilaterally canceled her promise with Cadil.
It was the first time she had done such a thing.
Then she strolled through her room, the garden, the greenhouse, the hallways of the house—talking freely with the spirits about all the things she hadn’t been able to say before.
“That time when you said we were useless, Linea, it really made us think.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Well, it’s true we can’t influence the physical world. But Linea, you can hear our voices, right?”
“So?”
“So whenever you’re sad, we’ll sing to you! We’ve even been learning human songs for you. Want to hear?”
But the song they sang was such a chaotic mess that Linea doubled over laughing. The servants watched her with concern, fear, or even dismay, but Linea didn’t care anymore.
“See? You laughed, right? That means it worked!”
“Yeah, sure… definitely effective.”
“Then from now on, whenever you’re sad or serious—”
“Nope. That’s banned.”
“Ehh? Why not~”
Linea shook her head, laughing.
Conversations with the spirits gave Linea vitality—and helped her realize something else:
She had been loved all along.
The old Linea might have thought that wasn’t enough.
But the current Linea was different.
And indeed, none of it had been a dream. It had been real.
Her conversations with the spirits confirmed it.
They were hesitant, tiptoeing around the topic of that version of Linea.
She had returned two years before her suicide.
Which meant she had to keep her promise to the spirits:
Survive.
And not just survive by breathing—but live on her own terms.
She would no longer live like before.
Never again would she depend on others or wait for someone to save her.
She would carry the love she had received in her heart and walk forward.
“Are you insane?”
Even if reality confronted her like this.
Her mother, whom she had bumped into while speaking with the spirits in the garden, looked at her like she was seeing something she shouldn’t. Her sister, Brigitte, beside her, wore an even colder expression.
Linea tried to pass them by without a word, but then came the comment.
“Why are you talking nonsense again?”
“She’s relapsing. No matter what you say, it’s useless.”
Brigitte cut in coldly. Linea looked at them quietly.
In the past, such words hurt deeply. They made her ashamed, made her wish she could disappear, and forced her to desperately hide herself.
But now, all Linea could hear were words of love—
That they had worried about her, cared for her, turned back time for her.
How could hearing that ever be called madness?
“Can’t you even speak like a person now?”
“Brigitte, that’s enough to your sister.”
Her mother tried to scold Brigitte, but lacked any real conviction.
That woman had given up on Linea long ago.
No matter what they said, it no longer stung.
Linea simply bowed politely and walked past them.
“Linea!”
Even when they called her name, Linea didn’t turn back.
“Linea, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
She replied with a smile toward the empty air.
* * *
“I heard she’s talking to thin air again these days?”
A few days later, at dinner, her father brought it up.
“Do we need to commit her to a sanitarium or a hospital for her to come to her senses?”
“I thought she grew out of that nasty habit when she was six.”
“Stupid kids never change.”
Even Evan and Brigitte chimed in, seizing the opportunity.
Linea initially decided to say nothing.
It didn’t matter what they said.
“If you do that again, I won’t let it go. Do you understand?”
But that was a threat.
Linea paused.
Would she once again suppress herself and talk to the spirits in secret? Or…
Suddenly, she realized—why should she?
She had done nothing wrong.
Change didn’t need a deadline.
It had to begin now—in every moment of living.
Linea ate with grace, only as much as she wanted, then calmly set down her fork and knife.
And she slowly opened her mouth.
“Should I talk about what Father does at night, then?”
“…What?”
“Why not? If you’re going to send me to an institution anyway, what does it matter what I say? Oh, unless you’re afraid of hearing it directly. But don’t worry—they don’t sew your lips shut in those places, so I can say it there.”
In the past, Linea had clung to these people, hoping to be seen as a decent daughter—despite knowing they’d never love her.
She carried guilt for being a “disappointing” child.
But dying and returning had stripped all of that away.
She looked at her shocked father and siblings like they were strangers.
“Evan, your business is struggling, isn’t it? If you’re living off your parents’ money, shouldn’t you at least do well?”
“W-What?!”
“Brigitte, what are you smiling about? Didn’t you say marriage was for losers? Seems like you don’t know the maids are passing your love letters around and laughing. And Mother, you really shouldn’t treat male servants that way. There are rumors.”
She had pitied them, hated them, yearned for love from them,
but vowed to live differently than they did.
Even when she thought she wanted to escape, she hadn’t truly broken free.
But now, she didn’t care anymore.
These were not the people who had loved her.
They had never done anything for her.
“You should all be a little more careful around me, don’t you think?”
“You can’t shut up, can you?”
“Oh, I’ll shut up. As long as you don’t provoke me.”
Linea glared at them coldly, then rose from her seat.
She gave a formal, polite bow.
“I’ll take my leave. Have a pleasant evening.”
And, leaving her dumbfounded family behind, Linea exited the dining hall.
Her heart pounded.
Her palms were damp with sweat.
But it didn’t feel bad—not at all.
