The road to the Imperial Archives wound through the heart of Valerion — a city built on secrets and gilded lies. Spires pierced the clouds like quills writing history itself, while banners fluttered with the empire's crest — a falcon devouring a serpent.
Inside the carriage, Countess Eunha Valestria sat in poised silence. Across from her, Sir Jiheon Ardent rode on horseback, eyes sharp, every motion disciplined.
Mirae glanced through the window slit. "Milady, we'll arrive shortly. The guards say the archives have been sealed since the late Chancellor's death."
"Of course," Eunha murmured. "History always closes its doors when it fears revision."
When the carriage stopped, Eunha stepped into the courtyard. The Archive of Asteris loomed before her — an obsidian fortress lined with statues of scholars and saints, though half their faces had been eroded by time.
"Stay close," Jiheon said.
She gave him a look that could melt steel. "Do I seem the type to wander aimlessly?"
"No," he said. "You seem the type to draw danger to you on purpose."
Her lips curved slightly. "Then you'd better keep up."
---
⚜️
Inside, the air was dry and heavy with the scent of parchment and dust. Rows upon rows of ancient scrolls towered over them like pillars of silence.
A lone archivist appeared from behind a shelf — an elderly man with eyes like fading ink. "Countess Valestria," he rasped. "We weren't informed of your visit."
Eunha held out a sealed writ. "By order of the Royal Council, I am to review all records related to the 'Crimson Trial' — Year 302 of the Lunar Calendar."
At the mention of that year, the old man's hands trembled. "My lady… those documents were lost in the Great Fire."
Eunha tilted her head. "How convenient. A fire that spared every other record except the one tied to a noblewoman's execution."
Jiheon frowned. "Execution?"
The Countess ignored him, stepping closer to the archivist. "Show me what remains. Even ashes have memories."
The man hesitated, then led them through the labyrinthine shelves to a locked door of iron and frost. With a shaking key, he opened it.
Inside was a single table — and one charred folder resting upon it.
Eunha reached out, but Jiheon's hand stopped hers. "Let me check first."
He scanned the room, tension coiling through him. The silence was too perfect. No echoes. No dust falling. The kind of quiet that only comes when something's waiting to move.
And then — the hiss of a blade.
---
Jiheon spun, catching a flash of movement. His sword met steel as a masked figure lunged from the shadows, dagger aimed for Eunha's throat.
The impact sent scrolls tumbling and sparks flying. Jiheon's strength pushed the assassin back, but the attacker was fast — too fast.
Eunha ducked, eyes wide, her pulse pounding. "How—?"
"Stay down!" Jiheon barked, slashing again. The clash of swords echoed like thunder in the chamber.
The assassin feinted, kicked the table, and sent the folder flying into the air. Eunha dove and caught it — but when her eyes flicked up, Jiheon was pinned against a shelf, blade pressed to his neck.
Without thinking, she snatched a fallen quill and drove it into the assassin's shoulder. Ink splattered like blood.
The figure hissed and stumbled back. Jiheon seized the opening, twisting free, and drove his sword through the attacker's cloak.
The assassin crumpled, coughing — then laughed. "Even rebirth can't change your fate, Countess."
Eunha froze.
The voice was distorted but unmistakable — a woman's voice she'd heard once before, the night she died.
Before she could speak, the assassin bit something between her teeth — and her body ignited in blue fire, vanishing into ash.
The silence that followed was deafening.
---
Eunha stood motionless, the folder clutched to her chest. Jiheon looked at her, breathing hard. "What did she mean — rebirth?"
The Countess's mind raced. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"Countess—"
"I said nothing," she snapped. Then, softer: "You saved my life again. That should be enough truth for one day."
But inside, her thoughts burned.
How could anyone know? Unless…
Her gaze dropped to the folder. The seal was cracked, the parchment fragile. She opened it slowly.
Inside were fragments of testimony from her trial — the one that had condemned her in her previous life.
But all names were erased — except one.
> Testimony provided by: Sir Jiheon Ardent.
The words hit like a blade.
Her vision blurred, her breath shallow. She looked up at Jiheon, who stood before her — silent, loyal, unaware.
He didn't remember. He couldn't.
But once, long ago, he had been the man who ended her life.
---
⚜️
That night, back at the Valestria estate, Eunha locked herself in her study. The folder lay open beside a candle, its edges blackened by time.
Mirae knocked gently. "Milady, are you—"
"Leave me," Eunha said.
When she was alone, she whispered into the dim light, "So fate sends me back to the same man who killed me… and asks me to love him again?"
Her laughter was low, bitter, trembling. "Cruel, even for the gods."
But beneath the pain, something else stirred — curiosity.
If Jiheon had once betrayed her, why didn't he remember?
And who, in this life, had erased the rest of the record?
She would find out.
Even if it meant destroying the empire all over again.
---
Meanwhile, in the barracks, Jiheon sat awake, polishing his sword. He stared at his reflection in the blade — and for an instant, it wasn't his face he saw. It was another man's — bloodied, wearing the same armor, standing before a woman in white flames.
He dropped the sword, heart racing. "What… was that?"
The dream. The flashes. The whispers. They were no longer dreams.
They were memories clawing their way back.
And somewhere deep within him, a voice murmured —
"You killed her once. Will you save her this time?"