183. Who Are You?

The woman at the desk finally looked up from her paperwork and met Ravenna’s gaze directly, her lips curling into something between exhaustion and smug recognition. “Well. Took you long enough.”

Ravenna instinctively stepped back, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger. “H-How is this possible? I—I don’t understand.”

The woman in the office blazer rose from her chair with practiced ease, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust from her sleeve.

“Why wouldn’t it be possible?” she asked with a raised brow. “After all, you’re Joy Cha Kim, aren’t you?”

Her voice held the confidence of someone who already knew the answer. Ravenna hesitated. Then she nodded.

“Yes! I am Joy! That’s the truth!” she snapped, confusion and panic bleeding into her voice. “I was Joy before I came here—I’m not you, I’m not Ravenna—!”

The other woman tilted her head. “Is that so?”

Suddenly, Ravenna blinked, and everything changed.

The skin on her arms, the weight of her body, even her posture, none of it was Ravenna’s anymore. It was hers. Her old body. Her real self.

The office woman standing before her had become Ravenna now: smirking, regal, dagger still in hand.

“See? You’re Joy again,” Ravenna said mockingly, watching her.

Joy stumbled backward, falling hard onto what should have been empty void—but it felt solid beneath her. She winced, “W-What is happening…?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask you,” Ravenna said, stepping toward her. “Are you really Joy Cha Kim?”

“I… I am,” Joy stammered, scrambling back to her feet. “Yes!”

“Do you truly believe that?” Ravenna pressed, her tone sharper now, colder.

“I—I do!”

“Then tell me,” Ravenna continued, circling her like a predator. “Why do you care about Alice? Why did you fret when Mina got a fever from the heat?”

Joy’s eyes widened. “T-That’s—”

“Don’t tell me you were acting.” Ravenna laughed, bitter and amused. “Were those crocodile tears, then?”

Joy didn’t respond.

“Why didn’t you run, Joy?” Ravenna asked, her voice dropping. “You knew where the Cult of Absolution wouldn’t attack. You could’ve crossed the sea, lived in peace, rebuilt your life with your knowledge of the future. But you stayed.”

She flicked her wrist, and a throne appeared beneath her. She sat with elegance, resting her cheek on her fist as she studied Joy.

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“You didn’t have to fight for Kim Island. You didn’t have to rebuild a ruined city or deal with the imperial politics. But you did.”

Joy clenched her fists. “I didn’t have a choice—”

“Didn’t you?” Ravenna interrupted. “You had every choice.”

She stood again, slowly descending the steps of the throne as if addressing a student who had failed a test.

“You even slept with Aurora,” she said, her tone dry. “Was that ‘just acting’ too?”

Joy’s face flushed. “I—I was lonely! I—took advantage of being you, okay?!”

“Did you?” Ravenna murmured. “Or maybe… you didn’t take advantage. Maybe that was you.”

She walked closer, each step echoing through the void.

“You say you’re Joy. That you just have my memories. But aren’t you a different person now? Something… new?”

Joy straightened her shoulders and said with sudden resolve, “No. I am Joy. I’ve made my own choices. I’ve lived my life.”

“Are you sure?” Ravenna whispered, standing face to face with her now. There was no warmth in her smile. Only inevitability.

“Why can’t the opposite be true?” Ravenna said gently. “What if you are Ravenna… with Joy’s memories?”

Joy tried to step back, but her foot found no purchase. Her balance shifted, and her body: no, Ravenna’s body—shifted again.

She looked down at her hands. They were Ravenna’s hands. And the woman standing across from her now wore the face of Joy.

“No-wait-” she tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Ravenna? the one who now looked like Joy, tilted her head, mirroring Joy’s earlier confusion.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said. “You never really asked who I am. Only assumed.”

Before Joy could respond, before her lips could even form the next word—the floor beneath her collapsed into darkness. She fell.

There was no wind, no sensation of air rushing past. Just endless black. A fall with no end, no sound but the hammering of her own heart. She didn’t know how long it lasted: a second, an hour, or eternity.

Then, suddenly, she woke up. Warmth touched her cheeks. Sunlight.

She sat up with a gasp and found herself lying on soft grass, surrounded by color. A garden.

The sky above her was bright and cloudless, but the sun’s heat was gentle, nothing like the scorching intensity of Kim Island or the dry winds of the northern part of the continent. The light here kissed the skin rather than burned it.

She looked around, breath caught in her throat.

The courtyard bloomed with surreal vibrancy, as though the plants themselves were enchanted. Manicured hedges curved like sculptures, and jewel-toned flowers rose proudly from marble planters. Roses the color of spilled wine coiled up trellises of white stone, their scent thick and intoxicating. Bees buzzed lazily from bloom to bloom, and a serene stillness lingered in the air, too perfect to be real.

At the heart of the garden stood an ancient oak tree, its sprawling branches casting dappled shadows over the grass beneath it. And in those shadows, nestled beside the roots, stood her.

“This place…” Ravenna whispered, eyes wide. “The courtyard between the Imperial Church and the Empress’s wing.”

Memories rushed back. This was the secluded garden where Ravenna and Aurora once played as children, hidden from the stiff formality of court life. Where whispers and laughter replaced titles and obligations. Where innocence still lived.

“How did I get here?” she muttered, brushing her hands down the front of her coat as she stood.

Still disoriented, she instinctively reached for the reputation system interface.

Again. The same cold message.

She clenched her fists, frustration swelling inside her.

“What in the world is happening?!”

Her voice echoed through the courtyard, only to be swallowed by the blooming quiet. She took a step toward the arched hedge that led out into the next section of the palace grounds, and froze.

Just outside the courtyard path, a scene unfolded.

“You’ll worsen Mother’s sickness!” a young boy scolded sharply.

His voice rang clear, authoritative despite the soft pitch of childhood. He couldn’t have been older than 13. His jet-black hair, his upright posture, everything about him was unmistakable. It was a young Prince Nolan and next to him was a girl younger than him

“That’s…” Ravenna’s voice faltered. “A young Ravenna?” Ravenna whispered, stunned.