When Na-ri woke again, her frustration and confusion hadn't dissipated. The hospital room, with its antiseptic smell and sterile white walls, felt suffocating. Nurses exchanged worried glances as Na-ri continued her emotional outbursts, mistaking her distress for signs of mental illness and depression.
Yet Na-ri knew better. Her mind swirled with memories that didn't belong to her—memories of a life in Goryeo, a kingdom long past, where she wasn't Na-ri but Ji-hoon. She recalled her death in a tragic fire and the inexplicable twist that had brought her consciousness back to a time before that fateful event.
"It's not madness," she murmured to herself amidst the turmoil. "I'm just not where I'm supposed to be." The clarity of this realization cut through the haze of confusion, grounding her thoughts in a sobering reality that transcended the hospital room.
Eun-seo, ever attentive to her needs, gently comforted Na-ri. He administered her medication and observed as she gradually calmed down, her mind settling into a state of contemplation.
"Goryeo is a thousand years ago," Na-ri began, her voice steadier now as she processed aloud. "This is Na-ri's body, and she's married to a fifty-year-old man. I died in a fire, yet here I am, back to an anniversary five years before my death." She paused, her gaze distant yet focused. "And now Ji-hoon's spirit inhabits this body—meaning I've died in both worlds. My enemies from my previous life still haunt me, and it seems they're no different here."
Eun-seo listened intently, his concern evident. He had known Na-ri as Ji-hoon, witnessed her spirited nature and her sharp tongue that could cut through deception and falsehoods. Now, faced with this revelation, he understood the weight of her words and the gravity of the situation she found herself in.
"So now I know my enemies and I know my friend," Na-ri continued, a note of determination in her voice. "I must be wary of Jin-woo, Soo-ah, Hye-jin, Joon-oh, Do-hyun, and most importantly, that mother-in-law." Her thoughts turned grim momentarily. "As much as I hate to admit it, it might be best to warn that fool Jin-woo of his impending fate…"
Lost in her thoughts, Na-ri didn't immediately register Eun-seo calling her name several times. It took a moment before she snapped back to the present, a small sigh escaping her lips. "Na-ri," Eun-seo's voice was gentle yet insistent, drawing her attention.
"Oh right, I go by Na-ri now, not Ji-hoon," she reminded herself quietly, anchoring her thoughts to the reality she now inhabited.
Eun-seo's concern for her health brought her back to the present moment. "Did you always have blood drawn like this? The doctor said continuing such a process could kill you," he lamented, his worry palpable.
Na-ri's mind flickered briefly to her life with Ji-ho, her supposed husband from Arandal. "His worries are sincere, unlike some unfaithful husbands I know," she thought wryly, a hint of bitterness seeping into her thoughts.
"Wait, who do I donate blood to exactly?" Na-ri questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Na-ri, do you suffer from amnesia too?" Eun-seo asked, his concern deepening as he searched her eyes for answers.
"No, it's no one besides my sister. She's quite sickly, and no one is a match but me," Na-ri replied, her tone laced with concern for her sibling and an undercurrent of resentment towards Soo-ah.
Her mind seethed with contempt for Soo-ah, her step-sister. "That stupid Soo-ah," she cursed inwardly. "Pray I don't have to deal with you again."
After two days of observation, Na-ri was granted permission to leave the hospital. Returning home, she faced Jin-woo, her husband, who greeted her with palpable disdain for her delayed return.
"Why are you home so late?" Jin-woo's voice was cold, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Na-ri took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knew she had to have. "I was in the hospital," she began cautiously, watching his reaction closely. "I had some health issues that needed attention."
Jin-woo's expression softened slightly, though skepticism lingered. "Health issues? Why wasn't I informed?"
"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily," Na-ri replied carefully, choosing her words with caution.
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine. Just… try to take care of yourself better."
With that terse exchange, Jin-woo retreated to his own quarters, leaving Na-ri to settle back into her uneasy existence.
The weight of her dual existence pressed heavily on Na-ri's mind as she lay awake that night, thoughts swirling with plans and uncertainties. She knew she couldn't reveal the truth about her memories or the knowledge she possessed—it could jeopardize everything. Instead, she resolved to tread cautiously, biding her time until the opportune moment to unravel the mysteries that surrounded her strange reincarnation.
Na-ri lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in her mind like a turbulent sea. Her encounter with Jin-woo's latest escapade left a bitter taste in her mouth—a reminder of her powerless position in this unfamiliar life. She kept Eun-seo hidden from Jin-woo, fearing his wrath and accusations of infidelity, though she knew his own fidelity was questionable.
"From here, I need to start training myself," she declared quietly to the empty room, determination etching lines on her face. The confinement imposed by Jin-woo meant she could only sneak short walks, jogs, and runs around the garden under the guise of recovery from her recent health scare.
"I need to recall how Master trained me," she murmured, her voice tinged with longing. Memories of her mentor, Master Hae, flooded her mind, his teachings a distant yet potent echo. She knew rebuilding her strength and fortitude would be an uphill battle.
"Father," she whispered affectionately, her heart heavy with missing him. Master Hae had been more than a teacher; he had been a guiding light in her life, imparting not just physical prowess but wisdom and resilience.
"Focusing on survival is of utmost importance," Na-ri affirmed, sitting up and reaching for a notebook. She began jotting down plans, her mind mapping out strategies for the challenges that lay ahead. Every detail mattered, every contingency planned meticulously.
Soon enough, Jin-woo returned home, his arrival accompanied by another woman. Na-ri's lip curled in disdain as she greeted him politely before retreating to the solitude of her room. The absence of maids, their disdainful glances whenever they passed her, grated on her nerves.
"It seems no matter whether they see Na-ri or me, Ji-hoon, we will forever be objects of their scorn," she scoffed bitterly to herself. The stark contrast between her past life and this one, where servants were more like allies than adversaries, stung.
"Hah! The 21st century is quite lenient with its servants," Na-ri muttered under her breath, bitterness creeping into her tone. She despised the powerlessness she felt, constrained by societal norms and her husband's authority.