Chapter 8

Was this really the ending she wanted? Even though it was the path she chose, worn out and tired, regret clung to her like something grotesque.

“Ah… I see now… I guess, deep down, I…”

Ha, haha… Like a fading breath, the wind scattered her words into nothing. Was it snowing? A cold drop, then another, traced down her cheek like falling tears.

“—! Stay with me! Don’t close your eyes—!”

A voice, meant to be right beside her, echoed like it was trapped underwater.

The large coat draped over her shoulders was the first to fall from the edge. And with the weight of it gone, her fragile body tilted—

Another gunshot rang out.

“Ugh.”

This time, the bullet didn’t strike Lucia. It hit Killian. Though the barrel was still trained squarely on her, Killian had thrown himself in front of her, wrapping her in his arms and taking the hit in her place.

“Goddamn it…!”

He had no idea what the hell was happening. Shot by some stranger out of nowhere?

At first, Killian thought the attacker was after him. But now it was clear that the gun was aimed straight at her.

“Why would you take it instead of me…”

“Forget that. What the hell kind of life have you lived to end up getting shot at?”

But she didn’t answer.

Her toes were already off the edge. Her body pitched forward, over the rooftop railing. She scrambled to grab onto something, tried to clutch the ledge, but her fingertips only scraped against the cold wall.

And then she fell into the open air.

“Damn it!”

Gravity, which had slowed time just moments before, suddenly sped everything up.

Fall.

The word flashed through his mind, and in that moment, he felt the full weight of what it meant. Cold wind tore at her skin like claws as she plunged into the void.

Killian twisted his body midair, wrapping the woman tightly in his arms so that he would hit the ground first.

DONG— DONG—

Like a funeral bell announcing death, the heavy chimes of the clock tower rang out for midnight. At that moment, FLASH—! A blinding burst of fireworks exploded in the sky with a deafening roar.

“Ha… shit. What a dramatic way to fucking die.”

As if mocking him.

Brilliant streaks of color painted the dark sky. Red, gold, violet, blue. Unlike the rooftop filled with ashes, the descent toward death looked like a scene straight out of a movie. It was beautiful.

Our Miracle Christmas!

Pop—! Pop—! Above their falling bodies, fireworks bloomed with stunning beauty, spelling out the holiday greeting from Miracle Land.

In that radiant night view, Killian felt the end approaching and said his final goodbye to the woman in his arms.

“Merry Christmas.”

* * *

A sensation she’d never felt before in her life.

So this is what death feels like. Vision turning white, as though being pulled away to somewhere else. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Fear rushed in, but as time passed, it felt like her body was being carried on a gentle current. Soft. Peaceful. The fear melted away, and she surrendered to the flow.

Is this how I die?

Lucia found herself lost in thought, surprised that even in death, she could still think…

“So you really can have thoughts after dying…”

She was just beginning to surrender to the vague blur of death when—

“No manners, even at a time like this…”

A familiar voice snapped her back like a hook in her chest. It yanked her straight out of the void, as if someone had grabbed her by the hair and slammed her soul back into her body.

“Lucia Everhart.”

Her breath hitched. She wanted to reject the sensation, to stay adrift in that painless dark. But she didn’t have the strength to resist. Her senses began to stir, one by one, like they were waking from a deep sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open.

Wait… then I’m… not dead? But why… why am I smelling tea…?

The subtle scent of bergamot tickled her nose, as if trying to soothe her panic. As if saying: It’s okay. You’re still here.

“Everhart. Are you dozing off?”

When no response came, Lady Lancaster’s voice turned cutting.

“To think someone who nods off during bridal lessons has the audacity to covet the position of mistress of the Lancaster household…!”

Bridal lessons…? What was she talking about? That was something she had done ten years ago…

Lucia’s eyes snapped open.

Bathed in the amber light of dusk, she saw a woman—familiar, yet strangely distant—clenching a teacup like she was about to hurl it across the room.

Lucia’s lips parted in disbelief.

“…My lady.”

Her husband’s mother. Vanessa Lancaster.

“L-Lady Lancaster…”

But the woman before her looked far younger than she remembered. Too young.

And…

“I never should have brought you into our family…!”

Words she’d heard before. Long ago.

Lucia’s face turned deathly pale.

‘Could it be… I died… and this is hell…?’