Episode 01
If you were to ask what the most beautiful building in the capital, *Belpern*, is, everyone would name three places.
First, the royal palace of the *Ferentra Dynasty*.
Second, the *Central Temple of Merphine*.
And third—the *Klein Theater*.
That towering theater, standing proudly at the heart of the capital, became the most famous in the kingdom less than three years after its construction.
Performances were held there every day, and thousands of spectators would flock to see them.
Then, before long, the singer they all adored would appear on the grandest and most dazzling stage of the theater.
**Ember Arcas.**
There was not a soul in the capital who didn’t know her name.
Those who had heard her perform said her singing was beyond words—so beautiful it could bring tears to one’s eyes, and that she shone on stage so brilliantly that one could hardly look directly at her.
They said that once you heard her aria even once, you could never forget her voice and would find yourself returning to the theater again and again.
The voice of an angel.
A pure, white soprano.
Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, Ember Arcas—born a country commoner—had endured all manner of hardship and misfortune to become the kingdom’s greatest **prima donna**.
The story of a woman who once gave up on being loved, only to be loved by the entire world.
That was how the story of my **second life** ended.
—
“Did you say you worked as a maid in Harn?”
“Yes. At Lord O’Brien’s estate.”
“Hmm.”
A middle-aged woman with streaks of white in her hair looked me up and down.
“Maidservants from noble houses are considered skilled workers. It’d be better if you had a letter of recommendation.”
“I left in a hurry. I didn’t have time to go through formal resignation.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“And you’ve worked for five years?”
“Yes.”
She stared at the résumé I had handed her with a dry, indifferent gaze.
“Why did you come to the capital?”
“There’s something I want to do.”
“To work in a tailor’s shop?”
“No. But it won’t interfere with my work.”
There was a brief silence. Then she nodded.
“Your pay will be given after deducting rent. If that’s fine with you, you can start.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I answered calmly, without showing joy.
“Call me *Sierra*.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sierra.”
“You’ll start tomorrow. For now, go upstairs and unpack. You said you just arrived?”
With that, Mrs. Sierra rose from her seat. I picked up my small suitcase and followed her.
Her tailor’s shop was a two-story building—the first floor the shop, the second her home. As we climbed the stairs, her tone softened slightly.
“I really did need an extra pair of hands. You’d know how busy it gets when the seasons change.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve had employees before, but never a live-in one, so it might be a bit awkward. But it’s a guest room, so it should be comfortable enough. Let me know if you need anything.”
The guest room she showed me was neat and spacious, furnished simply but adequately.
Once I set my bag beside the bed, she told me to rest and closed the door.
Left alone, I finally exhaled deeply, then opened the window. A gust of cold air swept in, and before me spread the bustling capital.
Crowded streets filled with people.
Merchants shouting to draw customers to their stalls.
Carts clattering noisily down the dirt roads.
And in the distance—a massive building still under construction, its silhouette clear against the sky.
It was a view I had yearned to see for thirty long years.
—
I died at the age of thirty.
At twenty, I was abandoned by what I believed to be an eternal love. My mother forced me to marry soon after.
She had been convinced that marriage was the only answer.
Had I known that life would amount to nothing more than endless work and dying of illness, I might have chosen differently.
Everyone called it a pitiful life.
To them, I was a wretched woman to be pitied.
A woman born and buried in a provincial estate—that was neither rare nor special.
There were countless women whose lives were ruined by the wrong man, the wrong husband.
Stack their corpses, and the pile would reach the heavens.
No one ever asked me if I regretted it.
Because that’s how tenant farmers lived. That’s how everyone lived.
It was all fate, unchangeable from birth.
But I *did* have chances—moments I still regretted so deeply it hurt to breathe.
*If I could go back. If only I could go back…*
A bitter laugh escaped me.
It was meaningless, of course.
A life failed so perfectly precisely because it could not be undone.
I died clutching the hands of my weeping husband, who realized too late his own regrets.
By then, I had long accepted the peace of death.
So I closed my eyes, exhaled one last breath, and surrendered.
And then—
“Ember, are you alright?”
“…What?”
I jerked my head up. Tears that had been welling spilled down my cheeks.
Before I could react, the man in front of me reached out and gently wiped them away.
“Oh—sorry, Ember. Don’t cry. I’m so sorry.”
Then he pulled me into an embrace.
I drew in a sharp breath. A familiar scent filled my nose—warm sunlight on freshly dried sheets.
Instinctively, I pushed him away.
“…Young master?”
The face I had seen countless times in dreams and memories came into focus through my tears.
**Revistan O’Brien.**
Exactly as he had been ten years ago.
*A vision before death…?*
That was the only conclusion that made sense.
Dazed, I stared at him as he spoke with sorrow in his voice.
“I don’t think I can keep my promise to take you to the capital.”
And at that moment, I knew exactly when this was—and what he was about to say next.
“Father found out about us. He says you can’t come. Any maid would be fine, but not you.”
*Of course.*
Once I understood, the tears stopped. I wiped my face with my sleeve.
*Ten years ago. That day.*
The day he left me behind—because his father forbade him to take me.
The day before he departed for the capital.
Back then, I had said—
“So? Because your father said no, you’re just going to leave me here?”
The line came out of my mouth as flat and cold as a line in a play.
Thinking I was heartbroken, he frowned and hung his head low.
A moment later, his tears fell onto my skirt.
“I’m sorry. I love you, Ember. I truly do, I just—”
He choked up, unable to finish.
And I, in that life, had begged him through tears—
*Please don’t leave me, my lady said I’m to marry Carlton, please, you know I can’t live without you, please…*
But knowing the future, I said instead:
“I see.”
His shoulders flinched. I held back a laugh.
“In that case, there’s nothing more to say, my lord. Farewell.”
I stood.
His tear-streaked face looked up at me—still beautiful, still so heartbreakingly gentle.
I touched his cheek lightly.
The face I had once loved so desperately, even unto death.
The face I could never bring myself to hate.
And the words I had always wanted to say—words I’d never managed to utter, even in dreams—finally came easily.
“I don’t love you anymore.”
I thought the illusion would end then.
That I’d see another vision—or awaken before the gods’ judgment.
But the silence stretched on.
He didn’t disappear.
That’s when I realized something was wrong.
The O’Brien estate. His room. Ten years ago.
I looked down at myself—an old maid’s uniform, my body whole and healthy.
My legs stood firm, my chest no longer ached.
Of course not—ten years ago, I hadn’t yet fallen ill.
But everything felt *too* vivid. Too real.
*No way…*
Revistan spoke again, voice trembling.
“Ember… what did you just say…?”
My heart pounded loudly in my ears.
I took a few steps back, then turned and ran.
I didn’t stop even when I heard him call my name.
I knew these halls by heart and fled straight through the servants’ passage to the back gate.
When I burst outside, the cool night air hit my flushed cheeks.
I stopped and stared up at the dark sky.
“So it’s real…?”
If this were just a vision before death, I should have awakened by now.
But my heart was racing. My breath came fast and heavy.
It felt real.
Goosebumps prickled up my arms.
Only one other possibility came to mind.
*If I’ve really gone back ten years…*
I closed my eyes and took a steady breath.
It had been so long since I’d run like this.
The wind filling my lungs felt exhilarating.
When I opened my eyes again, I was still standing there—
in the courtyard behind the estate.
“Ember.”
I turned at the sound of his voice.
“Yes, my lord.”
The moon hung full and bright above him, illuminating his tousled brown hair and trembling green eyes.
“I’ll go to the capital too,” I said.
His face twisted in confusion, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to take me. I’ll go on my own.”
“Ember… I understand you’re upset, but please calm down—”
He took a step forward, and I took one back.
I had never been more composed.
“You can’t take me because I’m your lover, right?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing he could say. His turmoil was written plainly across his face.
“Then I simply won’t be your lover anymore.”
I no longer loved Revistan O’Brien.
That love had ended ten years ago.
Time might have rewound, but dead feelings did not revive.
What stirred inside me now was something else—
a fierce yearning for life itself.
If God pitied me enough to grant this second chance, then there was only one thing to do.
I would not remain here as his lover.
I would leave—even if it meant abandoning him.
And this time, I would live for **myself alone**.
