“The car accident… it wasn’t an accident? You two… my parents…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say killed them.

“Honestly, I can’t tell if you’re just naïve or plain stupid. Haven’t you ever wondered why Ned showed up right after your parents died? Obviously, he was after the inheritance.”

“No way… Ned, you were part of it too?”

Ned’s expression twisted—but he didn’t deny it.

“Get a grip. Back then and now, the one Ned loves is me.”

Deva burst into gleeful laughter.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Ned snapped irritably.

“Damn it, Deva! Why are you spilling everything?!”
“It’s over anyway, now that we’ve been caught. What’s the point of hiding that we killed her foster parents too?”

“Lies.”

They had to be lies.

All of it had to be lies.

How could her husband and friend kill her parents over money and jealousy? How could someone commit such a monstrous act just because they hated someone?

The initial shock turned to grief, and the grief turned to rage. Unable to contain her fury, Penelope lunged at Deva.

“How could you do this to me?! Do you know how much I treasured you?”

“Have you lost your mind? Who do you think you’re laying hands on?”

Ned grabbed Penelope by her long silver hair and pulled her away from Deva. Unable to match his strength, she was thrown to the floor.

A dull pain shot through her ankle and she groaned. But neither Ned nor Deva spared her a glance.

Deva even picked up the wine Penelope had brought and began to open it.

“Well, now that she knows everything, what do we do with her?”

As Ned clutched his head in frustration, Deva casually poured a glass of wine to the brim.

“Now that it’s come to this, there’s only one option.”

Deva narrowed her eyes and gave Ned a covert glance.

Realising what she meant, he looked down at Penelope.

“As long as Penelope’s gone, there’s no problem, right?”

Murderous intent gleamed in his eyes like a serpent’s glint.

Penelope forgot all about the pain in her twisted ankle and pushed herself up.
Because the real pain wasn’t in her foot—it was in her heart.

“We’re in the middle of the sea. If we say she slipped while drinking, both the body and the truth will sink beneath the waves.”

“What… what are you saying… Don’t… don’t come any closer! Stay away from me!”

Fear now overwhelmed the pain. As he approached her, Penelope backed away and retreated onto the balcony. But there was nowhere left to run.

The two murderers who had killed her parents were standing in front of her.

The vast, open ocean stretched out behind her. She staggered forward on trembling legs until her back met the balcony railing.

A chill crept down her spine.

“Now that you know the truth, there’s no helping it. It’s your own fault for being too naïve—so don’t blame us.”

Ned stood just before her. His body reeked of alcohol, and madness burned in his eyes.

“No… please, no.”

She didn’t want to die. At the very least, she didn’t want to die at the hands of such a vile person.

Penelope racked her brains for a way to escape, but before she could react, Ned seized her.

As he gripped her tightly, Deva tipped the wine she was holding over Penelope’s head.

“I’ll make good use of your title and fortune, so don’t worry. You were an orphan anyway—it wasn’t even really your money.”
“Don’t act so high and mighty in death. Try doing some reflecting instead.”

There was no chance to fight back. The drunk man pushed Penelope off the balcony and into the sea. At that very moment, Deva stepped up to Ned and kissed him deeply, as if to reward him.

Her eyes followed Penelope as she fell.

In that moment, Penelope thought: ‘It doesn’t have to be a god. Even a demon is fine—just let me have a chance for revenge. Please.’

The dark waters of the night surged into her lungs.

It wasn’t the seawater that was choking Penelope now, it was the tears overflowing from a heart swollen with anguish.

‘If a miracle allows me to survive this… I’ll never forgive them. I swear it.’

The surface drifted farther away.
Her breath vanished.

On the boundary between life and death, all Penelope could think about was the revenge she hadn’t yet taken.

The moment her vision blacked out—

Spark.

Though she had clearly closed her eyes deep beneath the sea, a glimmer of light appeared.

Ah… so this is how it ends.
Am I going to heaven? Or to hell?

They’d taught her that to enter heaven, one must even love their enemies.

‘Then I’ll choose hell.’

If forgiving those who had slaughtered her parents — and her — was the price of entry to Heaven. She would gladly walk into hell instead.

From the moment she was discarded, she remembered everything she had to reclaim.

She didn’t want to die. But even the strongest will couldn’t stop death.

***

How much time had passed?

“My lady! Are you awake?”

A familiar voice rang out.

“Lucy?”
“Do you recognize me?”

A round-faced, sweet-looking girl burst into tears as she looked at Penelope.

Lucy—Penelope’s maid and only companion.

“You collapsed so suddenly, I was terrified!”
“Collapsed…? You mean, I fainted?”

She didn’t die… she fainted?

Penelope was still turning over her thoughts in a haze of unreality.

At first, she naturally assumed she had awoken in the world of the dead. But there was a strange sense of dissonance that made it hard to accept her death.

Had the shock of betrayal left a mark even on a departed soul? Pain radiated through her entire body.

‘Something’s wrong. Can you really feel such vivid sensations even after death?’

Penelope quickly pushed herself upright—lying there wasn’t going to help her make sense of anything.

“My lady, where are you going! You’ve just woken up after a whole month—moving around all of a sudden is dangerous!”

“I’ve been asleep for a month?”

“Yes! You had me worried sick for an entire month.”

Lucy didn’t wear her usual playful expression.

Penelope looked around in confusion. This wasn’t the sea, nor the Iris, but the Modeston estate.

From the wallpaper chosen by her late mother to the porcelain dolls her father had given her as a birthday gift, her bedroom still held onto every piece of memory.

Amidst the familiar scenery, she dared to consider an impossible thought.

‘Could I have come back to life—and returned to the past?’

‘No, that couldn’t be. There was no way something like that could happen.’

Ignoring the throbbing pain, Penelope forced her way to the bedroom door and flung it open.

“Where do you think you’re going in that condition, my lady!”

Penelope left Lucy’s panicked voice behind as she stepped out of the room. Her heart beat in time with the vibrations she felt with each step across the hallway floor.

As she descended the familiar marble stairs, the entrance to the estate came into view. Without hesitating, Penelope opened the door.

Cool air rushed in through the quickly parted doors. The distinct scent of Modeston, a heady blend of seawater and river water, filled her lungs.

One step. Then another. Finally, she stepped outside the mansion.

—she heard the sound of children’s feet running about. The muffled laughter of ladies behind gloved hands. The sound of a horse startled by a swiftly passing tram, its hooves skittering in alarm. All the sounds that had vanished beneath the water returned in full.

Penelope clamped a hand over her mouth and looked around. Towering buildings rose majestically, trams rattled down the tracks and a grid of roads stretched across the city, once known as the most prosperous in the world.

In the midst of this vivid and familiar scene, Penelope dared to entertain an impossible thought.

“I came back to life?”

“Could this be… regression?”

“No, something about this doesn’t feel quite right…”

There was a strange disconnect—as if she wasn’t simply reliving the past.

While Penelope murmured in a daze, questioning herself,

“My lady! You’ll catch your death if you go out dressed so lightly when you’re still unwell!”

Lucy rushed over and draped a shawl over Penelope’s shoulders. Only then did Penelope realize she’d stepped out in her nightclothes.

“Lucy, you said I was unconscious for a month, right? Then what day is it today?”

“It’s September 30th.”

“What?”

Penelope was so shocked she covered her mouth again, causing the shawl to slip from her shoulders.

Because—

“That’s today.”

September 30th was the final day of the Iris’s voyage.

The day Penelope died.

It was today.

“You said today is September 30th?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Penelope couldn’t bring herself to believe the date Lucy had given her.

“Extra! Evening edition! Last chance to get your papers!”
“You there—give me a copy.”

Penelope caught the newspaper boy just as he was rushing past the estate. He flinched at the sight of her disheveled appearance but quickly hid his surprise.

“Here you go—three rois, ma’am.”

“Lucy, buy all the papers he has left and pay him generously.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much, ma’am! I’ll be back again tomorrow!”

Overwhelmed by the unexpected fortune, the boy even took off his newsboy cap and bowed deeply.

Penelope quickly scanned the front page of the newspaper, searching for today’s date.

“No way.”

“My lady!”

Penelope slid down the wall and collapsed onto the ground.

[September 30th, 912]

She hadn’t returned to the past.

She had returned to today.