Chapter 2.1

Under the staggering moonlight, Frances stood, blankly gazing up at the sky. 

The raindrops that had been soaking her cheeks had suddenly turned into white snowflakes. The snowflakes touched her bare feet, which wore no shoes, and disappeared soundlessly. 

“Ah…” 

Her entire body creaked, as if she hadn’t moved or spoken in a long time. Frances collapsed onto the ground with a thud and looked around. 

She couldn’t tell if it was the middle of the night or the break of dawn. The alley, shrouded in thick darkness, was the same slum where her mother and she had lived so desperately in the past. 

She distinctly remembered swallowing the sharp Mermaid’s Tear before closing her eyes for the last time. But what awaited her wasn’t the eternal rest she had so desperately wished for. 

“What is going on here?” 

Had my throat been torn apart? 

A grating metallic voice, entirely different from her original tone, rang in her ears. Startled by the unfamiliar sound of her own voice, Frances instinctively clutched her neck. 

“Fire!” 

“Fire! There’s a fire!” 

The pitch-black, snowy night suddenly heated up as if it were the middle of a summer day. The snowflakes that had been fluttering in the wind vanished without a trace in the heat. 

“Fire! Bring water! Water!” 

“Aah!” 

Someone rushed past Frances, who was standing in the middle of the road. It was Jackson, the man who baked and sold large rye bread every morning. His suspenders clattered against his back as he ran, as if he had just jumped out of bed. 

Frances stared blankly at him for a moment before turning toward the source of the black smoke. 

The flames were devouring the entire slum. The houses, made from hastily nailed-together planks, were naturally vulnerable to fire. The dense cluster of homes, crammed together on a narrow plot of land to house as many people as possible, only made matters worse. 

The frozen ground melted under the intense heat, releasing a foul stench. The slum, which had hidden its true face in the shadows, was now fully exposed under the bright flames. 

Frances stared at the roaring fire, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Frances, it seems you made it out safely.” 

Amidst the chaos of adults and children running around with water buckets, a woman dragged Frances out of her daze and slapped her hard across the face. 

The merciless blow split the inside of her lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. It reminded her of the metallic scent she had smelled just before her death. 

“Where’s Iris?” 

“…What?” 

Why was this woman asking for my dead mother? 

Frances, rummaging through her memories of the past, couldn’t understand the woman’s words and asked again. 

“Your mother! Don’t tell me Iris didn’t make it out!” 

The woman, who had slapped Frances, grabbed her frail shoulders and shouted. 

“M-my mother?” 

The mention of her mother cleared the fog in Frances’s mind in an instant. Her previously empty, lifeless eyes now glimmered with light. 

“Oh no, Iris is still inside!” 

The middle-aged woman stomped her feet at Frances’s reaction and turned to look at the burning house. She was so flustered that she hadn’t even dressed properly, and now she was shouting at the top of her lungs that someone was still inside. 

“M-mother! Mother!” 

Frances, who had been sitting on the ground all this time, suddenly sprang to her feet. But her body, which had been exposed to the cold for so long, refused to obey her will. 

She staggered toward the fire but collapsed onto the ground. 

“Frances, my dear.” 

The woman rushed over and helped Frances up. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness with which she had scolded her earlier. 

“My mother! My mother hasn’t made it out yet! I have to save her!” 

But the flames showed no signs of dying down. The woman, using her entire body to stop Frances from running into the fire, screamed at her. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Frances! If you go in now, you’ll die too!” 

Die. 

Even the rest she had so desperately longed for had not been granted. Instead, she had returned to the past—the most miserable and regretful moment of her life. 

“No! This can’t be happening!” 

Frances screamed and struggled, trying to escape the woman’s grasp. If she couldn’t save her mother, she should at least have been given the chance to see her one last time. 

She should have been allowed to bury herself in her mother’s lap and pour out her grief, claiming it was all just a terrible nightmare. 

If not that, then at least she should have been given the chance to apologize to her mother, whom she had left behind in the scorching flames… 

“Aah! No! No, mother, please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me behind.”

The future had been dreadful, and the past she had returned to was even more horrific. 

Frances, who had come back from death only to encounter another, lost consciousness on the spot. 

* * * 

“Dear, Frances.” 

The woman, who had been watching over Frances as she lay unconscious, called out to her. 

The flames, which had lit up the midnight like broad daylight, had only died down after reducing everything to ashes. 

“Mother…” 

Frances’s parched voice echoed through the winter alleyway. 

“What on earth is this sudden disaster?” 

Kneeling in front of the house that had turned to ashes, Frances couldn’t even cry. Instead, she let out broken, choking sobs. 

People began to gather around her and the woman. 

Those who lived day-to-day had little interest in their neighbors, but a fire in the middle of the night was enough to draw everyone’s attention. 

“You left your mother in the fire and ran away to live alone, and now you’re crying.”

A man from the neighboring house approached Frances, who was sitting on the ground. With a face flushed red in anger, he sneered at the dazed Frances. 

This was the same man who had poured more water on his own house than on the burning one, fearing the fire might spread. If it hadn’t been for his selfish actions, the flames might have been extinguished sooner. 

The man circled around Frances, mocking her. His house, though shabby, was better than having nothing at all. Thinking of how close he had come to being left homeless by dawn, he shuddered. 

Frances, trembling, paid no attention to the ridicule or stares around her. Instead, she clutched her own neck with shaking hands. 

“H-ha… ha…” 

She felt as though she were being strangled, unable to breathe properly. It was as if someone had blocked her airway, leaving her gasping for air. 

“Pretending to regret it now, after running out to save your own skin? Or are you just trying to look pitiful?” 

The man squatted down and tapped Frances on the cheek. 

“…” 

“Hey! Look at this mess. Take a good look at what your fire did to my house.” 

Even though his house had always been on the verge of collapse, there wasn’t much visible damage. Still, the man continued to threaten Frances, claiming that his house had suffered because of her. 

“What are you going to do about this?!” 

The man grabbed Frances by the collar and hoisted her up. Frances, too weak to resist, dangled limply in his grip. The man, staring at her with irritation, suddenly let out a sly smile. 

“…So, you’re a girl.” 

His eyes gleamed as he looked her over. Her slender neck, straight shoulders, and waist that could be wrapped with one hand were now clear to him. 

“I always thought you were a boy, running around in oversized clothes, but you’re a girl.” 

The man’s delighted expression made the onlookers glance at Frances with pity and unease. 

“She’s mine. Back off!” 

When other men in the crowd began to step closer, the man shouted aggressively, scaring them off. 

“Urgh…” 

While the man was busy keeping an eye on the others, Frances, her eyes rolling back, began to faint. 

“She’s going to die like this!” 

A woman, who had been watching in fear, finally stepped in. 

“Ah! Die? What nonsense.” 

The man let go of Frances’s collar, and she fell to the ground with a thud. 

“Cough, cough.” 

As oxygen suddenly flooded her lungs, Frances broke into a fit of violent coughing. 

“Your house has burned down completely, so why don’t you stay at my place for now? We can discuss compensation later.” 

The man grinned slyly as he grabbed Frances’s thin wrist. His eyes gleamed with greed, as if he feared the opportunity, like a bag of coins, might slip away. 

“…Let go!” 

A grating, metallic voice escaped Frances’s lips, echoing through the narrow alleyway. The unexpected defiance startled the man, and he let go of her wrist. 

Without hesitation, Frances rushed to the still-smoldering ashes and began digging through them. 

“That crazy girl!” 

The man wasn’t the only one shocked by her actions. 

‘If I was going to come back, I should’ve come back a little earlier. What is this?’ 

Tears streamed down her face. Her hands burned from the lingering heat of the ashes, but Frances didn’t care. 

‘If I hadn’t sat there like a fool, I could’ve stopped it.’ 

Regret clawed at Frances’s chest, tearing her apart. 

“Mother, please!”