132.

Nothing was visible, and I couldn’t feel anything. Yet, Nyx’s voice continued to hum ominously in my mind.

‘Never come back to life again!’

But that voice couldn’t break me. If anything, every time Nyx screamed for my death, it only fueled my determination to survive. To spite him, to prove him wrong—I clung to life with everything I had.

Still, it was like sinking into a deep sleep. My consciousness flickered, threatening to slip away entirely. Would I forget everything? Forget that I was Aisa McFoy? The thought haunted me.

Strangely, though, every time Nyx howled in rage, the shock of his hatred jolted me awake. His malice kept me alive, whether he knew it or not.

It was a strange cycle—half drifting, half clinging on—until a thunderous sound suddenly shattered the silence.

Bang.

The roar was deafening, like the earth itself splitting open. Unlike Nyx’s venomous taunts, this sound cut through everything, snapping my mind into sharp clarity.

‘Where am I? Why can’t I move?’

I couldn’t feel my body, as though it no longer existed. Yet, I wasn’t dead—I was sure of it, if only because my mind was still working.

‘Could this be the boundary?’ The idea that my plan might have worked flickered briefly before the sound came again.

Boom.

Another explosion rocked the void, urging me to wake up. Reflexively, I tried to open my eyes.

And I did. Or at least, I thought I did. Everything remained pitch black. Still, I felt a glimmer of relief. If I could move even a fraction—if I could open my eyes—then perhaps I still had a body somewhere.

Time passed in fits and starts. I wasn’t sure if I was conscious or unconscious, alive or dead. Just as despair began to creep in, the third explosion shattered the void once more.

Crash.

“Already awake? You recover quickly.”

A voice echoed, dripping with amusement. It was familiar, too familiar.

“How badly do you want to live?”

The voice, mocking and full of derision, sent a chill down my spine. I recognized it. It was the same unsettling tone I had heard in the temple—the one that left me feeling stripped bare.

“You can’t move yet,” it continued, almost lazily.

“Your body hasn’t fully reformed. But don’t worry; that will only take a little longer.”

It spoke with the unnerving intimacy of someone who could see me clearly, even though I was blind to everything.

“The process of breaking apart and coming back together is faster than a blink, but it feels like an eternity,” the voice mused. “Try speaking. You should be able to manage that much by now.”

To my frustration, the voice was right. I could speak. Swallowing my irritation, I decided to comply. This might be the goddess herself, after all.

“…Am I alive?”

For once, I set aside all the grievances I had with her. Right now, there was only one question that mattered to me. My voice trembled with desperation.

“Technically, you’re closer to dead,” the voice replied nonchalantly.

Her words sent a wave of relief through me. It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it wasn’t the worst-case scenario, either.

“So, I’m not fully dead?” I pressed.

“I didn’t come here to answer your questions,” she snapped, her tone laced with annoyance. The goddess was as unhelpful as ever.

“Then stop talking to me,” I shot back.

“As soon as I’m whole, I’ll leave this place.”

The goddess had no love for me, that much was clear. I couldn’t rely on her. If I wanted to live, I’d have to do it on my own.

Her laugh echoed, cold and mocking.

“What’s the matter? Playing dead now?”

I didn’t respond. She could laugh all she wanted. I focused on keeping myself intact, blocking out her voice like a predator ignoring the buzzing of flies.

“You’re scaring your little beast, you know,” she continued.

“It thinks you’re really dead. Look at it, trembling in fear.”

“What?”

My resolve cracked as the goddess’s words registered.

At that moment, a soft whimper reached my ears, followed by the sensation of something warm and wet brushing against my face.

Desperate, I forced my eyes open. The surrounding space was a familiar, blinding white—the same eerie void I had encountered before. But that wasn’t what captured my attention.

Standing atop my cheek, her tiny paws pressing into my skin, was none other than Antoinette.

The small cub let out a soft rumble, her eyes locking onto mine. Her tail wagged furiously, a whirlwind of joy and relief.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

I whispered, reaching out instinctively. I scooped her up and held her close, my heart swelling with disbelief. Somehow, all my senses had returned, yet nothing mattered more than the little creature in my arms.

“How are you here?” I murmured.

“She came with you, obviously,” the goddess replied, her voice closer now.

“For such a tiny beast, she’s surprisingly fast. Quicker than your husband, at least.”

The words hit me like a lightning strike. I looked up sharply, my gaze narrowing on the figure before me.

It was Ophelia—no, it was the goddess wearing Ophelia’s face, her smirk as infuriating as ever.

“She came with me?” I echoed, stunned.

“Does that mean…”

My mind reeled, piecing together fragments of memory. Could it be? Could the man I had seen—reaching for me, calling my name—truly have been Norma?

I lifted Antoinette to eye level, her warm gaze meeting mine.

“Did you come here with him? Was that really Norma?”

Antoinette wagged her tail enthusiastically, oblivious to the storm raging in my heart.

“Surely, you don’t think that little beast understands you,” the goddess sneered, watching my reaction with thinly veiled amusement.

But I ignored her, my thoughts consumed by one overwhelming truth.

If Norma had truly been there, I had made a terrible mistake.

The goddess interjected again, her tone dripping with condescension, making me flinch involuntarily. Even I had to admit that interrogating a small animal like it held the secrets of the universe probably didn’t paint me as particularly bright.

…But Antoinette really does understand most of what I say. She even answers sometimes, in her own way.

Of course, I wasn’t foolish enough to start defending that to the goddess. However, she must have read my silence as confirmation of my thoughts, because she began laughing as though thoroughly entertained.

“Humans, always seeing what they want to see, believing what they want to believe. A beast is just a beast. All it has are memories.”

“Memories?”

“Yes, memories from before.”

“What are you saying?”

“You really know nothing, do you? Do you think this is your first life?”

“…What?”

“Twist the story as much as you like; no matter how many times it repeats, you always die. Every single time.”

The words that fell from the goddess’s lips were beyond anything I could have imagined. Her voice continued, weaving a thread of discomfort and unease.

“That girl,” she mused, “made such a difficult wish. Even I can’t alter the fundamental structure of a story. Every world has its certainties—things that ‘must’ happen. Just as Aisa McFoy must die at the end of this story.”

The way she lingered on those last words, almost gleefully, made my face involuntarily twist in displeasure. Antoinette growled at the goddess wearing Ophelia’s face, baring her tiny teeth.

“And so, no matter how much the story is twisted, you always die. At least, until someone gave you someone else’s memories.”

“…You mean ‘Ophelia and the Night’?”

“That’s a secret,” the goddess teased with a sing-song tone.

“Telling you things outside ‘this world’s’ knowledge is forbidden.”

“So, the memory of reading that cursed book… wasn’t mine,” I concluded.

The goddess only hummed in amusement, shrugging lightly.

“They weren’t Aisa McFoy’s memories. But here’s the important part—until you gained knowledge of that book, you had no chance of survival.”

It was true. Without that knowledge, I would never have realized I carried Ophelia’s divine power. I wouldn’t have sought Norma out, or prepared myself for Nyx.

“It was only after that, that your twists began to take effect.”

The goddess, as ever, wouldn’t give straight answers. But she had no qualms taking credit when it suited her.

“For example, when I whispered to Nyx in Tartaros that killing Aisa McFoy would let him see Ophelia again…”

“So that’s why he suddenly lunged at me out of nowhere!” My expression darkened.

The goddess only smirked. “Why the face? Thanks to that, you woke up Norma Diazi.”

“I nearly died.”

“But you didn’t.”

“…”

“In any case.”

She said with a languid wave of her hand.

“Even in a world of my design, watching you die again and again in similar ways gets boring after a while. That poor beast has memories of all those lives, every single one.”

The thought of this small creature carrying the burden of countless lifetimes sent a pang of guilt through me. My arms instinctively tightened around Antoinette’s warm little body.

“What did you do to her? No wonder she never grows!”

“…That’s because she’s a genuine runt, not because of me.”

I glanced down at Antoinette, skeptical. The cub seemed utterly indifferent, letting out a wide yawn.

“Don’t be too upset,” the goddess said breezily.

“Having memories of the past is one of the conditions that might let Aisa McFoy survive this time.”

I didn’t know all the specifics, but one thing was clear: for me to live, a ridiculous number of coincidences and miracles had to align.

“It was a mistake of mine that she kept those memories, though. If she wants, I can lighten the load for her.”

The goddess reached out as if to touch Antoinette. Before I could react, the little cub bared her fangs and snapped at the approaching hand, her growl sharp and defiant. The goddess scowled as if offended by the audacity of such a small creature.

And then—

Bang.

The earsplitting noise returned, more intense than before. It felt like the very air was tearing apart.

“This is interesting,” the goddess murmured, her eyes narrowing as she glanced around the blank expanse.

“At this rate, you might just tear through the boundary itself.”

Her grin stretched wide, a mixture of amusement and intrigue, as her gaze fixed on me.

“You don’t have much time to waste, do you? Your husband’s been calling for you—screaming himself hoarse, really.”

It took me a moment to process her words. My husband? Norma?

“That sound… that awful noise… are you telling me that’s Norma calling for me?”

The goddess’s grin widened. “Who else?”

I could hardly believe it. The idea that such a terrifying, earth-shattering sound could come from Norma, my kind, gentle, sweet husband—it was absurd.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I muttered. But the seed of doubt had already been planted.