There was no pain where she stood.
No cold.
No weight.
No palace.
No responsibilities.
Only light.
Soft.
Warm.
Endless.
The Empress — no, not Empress — simply herself — stood barefoot on what looked like endless white mist. The world around her shimmered gently like dawn through silk curtains.
And ahead—
Two familiar figures.
Her parents.
Not the Duke and Duchess.
But the parents from her past life.
The small restaurant.
The narrow street.
The scent of fried garlic and soy sauce.
The laughter of evening customers.
Her mother's apron.
Her father's tired but proud smile.
They looked exactly as she remembered.
Young.
Alive.
Warm.
Her mother's arms opened.
"Come here."
She ran.
Without thinking.
Without hesitation.
She buried her face into her mother's shoulder.
The scent was real.
The warmth was real.
She had forgotten how much she missed it.
Her father's hand rested on her head.
"You've worked hard."
Her chest tightened.
