Lara Dena once ruled the political stage with brilliance and calculation.

Until the day she died.

She had reached the top - wealth, influence, power resting quietly in her hands. People envied her. Feared her.

But she never celebrated.

Because she knew what it cost.

There were choices she could never undo. Lines she crossed that never disappeared. The world was corrupted.

And so was she.

When death came, she welcomed it. She thought it would finally silence her regret. She never wished for a second chance.

Yet she awakens in Althera - reborn as Irisha Spes, a ten-year-old girl who cannot hear and cannot speak.

A mute child.

A deaf child.

At the very bottom of the Malum Empire - a nation that worships strength and breathes hierarchy. Nobles above commoners. The powerful above the weak. And a disabled child stands lower than all of them.

Irisha does not see this life as mercy.

She sees it as punishment.

In her first moments of awareness, she thinks of ending it.

Why live again when she never asked to return?

But she is not alone.

Her little sister was born here too - small, innocent, unaware of how cruel this world can be. And even someone who believes herself sinful cannot abandon a child to suffer alone.

So she chooses to live.

Not for redemption.

Not for ambition.

But as penance.

Even if that means enduring the tyrant empire.
Even if that means crossing paths with the Dragon Prince - heir to a system built on power and hierarchy.

Irisha Spes does not wish to rise.

She only intends to endure.

But in a world where strength decides fate... how long can someone survive believing they deserve to suffer?


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" This is a direct sentence in the present time."


" This is a direct sentence in the past time."


' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'


' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'


[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]


[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]


'... Surely, I've taken life for granted.' Again, the thought gnaws at her. Leaning against the cold brick and concrete, she sighs, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and unable to voice anything from her lungs.


' I don't even know what time or day it is.'


Her mind teeters on the edge of breaking, yet then a gentle wind brushes against her skin. Strange, yet familiar—carrying a fragrance that somehow keeps her tethered to sanity.


She could go mad at any second if she could speak.


Chapter 74 - Sign Seventy Four