White.
That was the first thing Serina saw when she woke up after her death.
A vast, endless space of white. Not sky, not fog, not light—just white. Empty and silent.
Her fingers twitched.
Then pain. Sharp, excruciating.
She gasped and clutched her chest. Her mind flashed—the mountain, the roar of the wind, her body crashing against the rocks below. Bones breaking. The searing, unbearable pain. Her own scream.
And then... nothing.
Now, this.
Her breath came in short bursts. She looked around—no edges, no ground, no sky. Only white.
Am I dead...?
Her hands trembled as she hugged herself, knees drawn to her chest. Her heart pounded, yet there was no beat in the world around her.
Then she saw it.
A door.
Far ahead in the distance. Tall, wooden, ornate—out of place in this nowhere. But it called to her.
She stood on shaky feet, took a step, then another. The closer she got, the heavier her chest felt.
Something waited behind that door.
She reached it. Raised her hand. Slowly turned the handle.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled out, then shadows. A scene unfolded before her like a memory carved in time.
---
As the mist parted, she stood beneath a canopy of stars. The night sky was filled with floating lanterns, their golden glow rippling across a calm lake. Gentle flute music danced on the breeze.
She knew this place. The Lantern Festival.
She couldn't have been more than ten, dressed in a pale pink hanbok that brushed her ankles. Her tiny hand curled inside her father's rough palm.
"There it is!" the little version of her pointed at a lantern drifting upward. "Papa, look! It's flying the highest!"
Her father laughed, the kind of laugh that filled the night with warmth. "Of course it is. You wished with your whole heart."
Beside them, her mother knelt to adjust the bow at her waist. "Did you make a good wish, my love?"
"I wished we'd be together forever!" she beamed.
Her mother's smile trembled, but she reached out and cupped her daughter's face.
"A perfect wish," she whispered.
The memory drew Serina in like a ghost among the living. She saw her father place his coat around her mother's shoulders, saw the gentle way her mother leaned into his side. She had forgotten those tiny acts of love.
A pang tore through her chest.
"I was happy," she whispered. "We were happy..."
As her younger self ran ahead to release another lantern, her parents followed—hand in hand, smiling.
The scene faded like light slipping from the sky. Only warmth remained in her chest.
She pressed a hand over her heart. "I remember now."
---
The next door opened to a sunlit garden. The scent of blooming lilies and fresh earth greeted her. Birds sang from nearby trees, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves.
There, beneath an old oak tree, sat two children.
Her younger self, no older than seven, sat in the grass with scraped knees and teary cheeks. A torn ribbon clutched in her hands.
A boy knelt in front of her. Messy dark hair, dirt-streaked shirt, and those gentle, worried eyes.
Julian.
"Who hurt you?" he asked softly, brushing the dirt from her hands.
"I fell... and they laughed," she sniffled.
His jaw tensed, but instead of anger, he sat beside her and pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Carefully, he wiped her tears.
"Forget them. You're braver than they could ever be."
"I'm not brave..."
"To me, you are."
He took the torn ribbon and tied it clumsily around her wrist. "There. Now you're a knight."
She blinked.
"Knights are boys."
He smiled. "Knights are anyone who protects others. And you always try—even when you're afraid."
"Will you protect me too?"
Julian leaned forward and gently bumped his forehead against hers. "Always."
The present Serina covered her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Julian... I forgot what we meant to each other."
The garden faded, but her heart felt steadier—like something precious had returned.
---
The next door opened with a low creak.
She stepped into an opulent ballroom aglow with golden light. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, a string ensemble played a graceful waltz, and the air was fragrant with roses.
Her engagement celebration.
At the center of the room stood her past self in a flowing crimson gown—nervous, yet radiant. And standing opposite her...
Leon.
He extended his hand. She placed hers in his.
"You're trembling," he whispered as they danced.
"I've never done this before."
He chuckled. "Just follow me. I won't let you fall."
They twirled, stumbled, and laughed. It wasn't perfect—but it was real.
At the final turn, he leaned closer. "Serina... I'm not perfect, but I'll protect you with everything I have."
Her past self believed it. And for a fleeting moment... so did she.
"I wanted this to be real," she whispered. "Maybe it was. Even if just for a little while."
The ballroom melted away like a dream. But the warmth of his touch lingered.
---
The final door stood ahead—silent and still.
Her hand trembled as it touched the handle. It felt cold. Final.
The door creaked open.
What greeted her wasn't a memory.
It was something else.
She stepped forward—and froze.
There, before her, unfolded a scene that had already happened. Not the past... but after.
She saw it.
Her own body—falling.
The cliff. The mist. The silence.
"RINA!!"
Lia's scream tore through the stillness.
Serina flinched, heart clenching. She had never heard Lia sound like that—her voice held more than grief. It was heartbreak.
Lia ran forward, eyes wide, drenched in tears. Julian caught her just before the edge.
"Let me go! I have to save her!"
He held her, arms shaking.
"I didn't realize... I never imagined she'd actually go through with it ..."
Leon dropped to his knees, his voice breaking.
"Serina! Where are you?!"
A soldier's voice rang out. "She's not there... There's no sign of her."
Then Serina saw it.
Lia's hand trembling, reaching for Julian's dagger.
Serina staggered forward.
"No... Lia, no... please..."
But she couldn't hear.
"She wasn't guilty," Lia whispered. "She was already broken, and you pushed her over the edge."
Serina's legs buckled. Tears poured down.
"I can't live without her. If she's gone... there's nothing left for me..."
"STOP!" Serina cried. "Please—someone stop her!"
But no one did.
The dagger sank into Lia's chest.
Julian caught her.
"Lia! Stay with me! Please! Don't leave too!"
Leon dropped beside them, clutching her hand.
"Don't go... please... I didn't want this..."
Lia's eyes opened one last time.
"Please... believe her... Rina didn't do anything... please..."
Then all was still.
The door shut softly.
Serina collapsed in the white void, her body trembling.
"She died... because of me."
"I wanted to protect her... but I only brought pain..."
Her voice cracked.
"Do you regret it?"
The question came gently. But it echoed like thunder.
She turned.
Behind her stood a woman draped in flowing white. Calm. Radiant.
Serina's eyes widened.