As the weight of Yun-ji's words settled over the room, the tension that had been building finally broke. Choi Bora, her face drained of color, could only manage a feeble nod before she stepped back, retreating into the shadows of her own shame. The whispers among the other members had died down, replaced with a heavy silence that no one dared to break. Even Choi Hwan, whose rigid stance showed his internal struggle, had no words to defend himself.
With a final glance around the room, Yun-ji turned her gaze toward Seo-Yun, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. That was enough. Without another word, Yun-ji excused herself, walking toward the door with her head held high, her dignity intact. Seo-Yun followed a moment later, her composed presence still commanding respect.
Back at the Choi residence, the ride home was uneventful, though the atmosphere in the car was thick with unspoken words. Yun-ji could feel the stares of her family, but no one dared to address her directly. It wasn't until they reached home that everyone seemed to scatter, too ashamed or too conflicted to continue the conversation.
Yun-ji wasted no time heading to her room. She had long since learned the truth about her place in the Choi family. The warmth and affection they pretended to show her had been nothing but a mask, concealing their sinister plans to use her for their own benefit. She may have believed that in her previous life, but in this life, she was no longer the naïve girl they could control. She was here for revenge, and she would make them pay for every betrayal, every lie. The weight of her past experiences, the sharp memory of how they had discarded her once she was no longer useful, fueled her determination.
As she walked through the halls of the Choi mansion, the luxurious décor, the lavish surroundings that had once felt like home, now felt cold and empty. It was a façade—a gilded cage they had trapped her in, never once considering her as family. Yun-ji had seen through their hollow kindness in this life, and this time, she would be the one in control.
In her room, she locked the door and leaned against it, her chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She wasn't here to grieve over what had happened in the past—she was here to take back her life. Her revenge would be meticulous, and she would dismantle everything they held dear, piece by piece.
Yun-ji moved to the large mirror, staring at her reflection. The girl looking back was younger, sharper, more aware than she had ever been before. Her eyes lingered on the subtle differences—she could feel the weight of her rebirth pressing on her, the knowledge that she wasn't the same girl who had once been easily deceived.
But then, something else caught her eye.
Around her neck was a delicate chain, and dangling from it was a small, purple crystal. Yun-ji's brows furrowed. She didn't remember owning this necklace in her past life. No matter how hard she tried to recall, no memory surfaced of ever having worn or even seen this piece of jewelry. Where had it come from? And why was it with her now?
She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the crystal. As soon as she made contact, a wave of calmness washed over her. The sensation was so unexpected, so soothing, that she closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the unfamiliar but comforting sensation. It felt as though the weight of the world, her revenge, her pain, her past—all of it—melted away, replaced by a serene stillness.
But then, the calm broke.
A harsh cough shattered the silence. Yun-ji's eyes flew open, and her breath caught in her throat as she took in her surroundings. She was no longer in her room. The opulence of the Choi mansion was gone, replaced by the sight of a worn-out, dimly lit space. The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of damp wood. In front of her, a small suitcase sat at the foot of a narrow bed, the room sparse, almost desolate.
And then, her eyes fell on the girl in the bed.
She was young, around the same age as Yun-ji. Her face was pale, a sheen of sweat coating her brow, and her body trembled with violent coughs that racked her small frame. But what shocked Yun-ji the most was the necklace around the girl's neck. The same purple crystal, identical to the one Yun-ji had just touched, glinted faintly against the girl's skin, as though it was reacting to something—perhaps to Yun-ji's presence.
Who was she?
Yun-ji's heart raced, confusion swirling in her mind. This girl… there was something achingly familiar about her, though Yun-ji couldn't place it. Could this be some kind of vision? Or a memory she hadn't yet unlocked?
Another cough escaped the girl, her hand reaching weakly for something at her bedside, her breath labored and strained. Yun-ji's chest tightened in response, a strange, inexplicable pull forming between them. The purple crystal seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, as though connected to both of them in ways Yun-ji couldn't yet understand.
Was this girl somehow tied to her past? Or perhaps, her future?
Yun-ji took a step closer, her gaze locked on the sickly figure before her. The moment she moved, however, the vision wavered, the room growing darker, the sounds fading as if slipping through her fingers. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold on to the scene, but it was no use. The worn-out room, the suitcase, the girl—all of it dissolved into nothingness.
She was back in her room, the mirror reflecting her startled face.
Yun-ji's hand dropped from the necklace, her fingers tingling from the lingering effects of the strange power. She stood frozen for a long moment, the image of the girl's frail body and the violent coughs still echoing in her mind.
Whoever that girl was, Yun-ji knew one thing: this necklace was more than just a piece of jewelry. It held a connection—perhaps to her biological family, or maybe something even deeper, something tied to the very reason she had been given this second chance at life.
And she was going to find out.