The glowing words on the bamboo wall unfolded like a long, ancient scripture—revealing truths Mary never imagined she would read.
The world, it said, was not a single realm. It was a vast collection of planes, each operating like its own world. Her original apocalypse world had been one of them. This era of the 1980s was another.
And she—Mary—was the chosen female protagonist of this plane.
Her existence wasn't random. She was woven into the fate of the world itself. When a plane faced destruction, its designated protagonist could use her power to save it… or perish with it.
Mary felt her scalp numb.
Me? Save a world? I barely survived the last one!
She read on.
In the previous cycle, the "last incarnation" of the female protagonist had obtained the jade pendant space, opening the mindscape. She used its power first to cleanse her body, strengthen her meridians, and make herself beautiful. She loved handsome men, and during the apocalypse, she had tried to keep any attractive man she found.
But beauty attracted danger. Eventually, she offended the wrong people—and was killed.
With its master dead, the jade pendant fell into dormancy.
Years later, it woke again and chose a new protagonist, Marietta, aka Mary.
Marietta was still in the apocalypse, and the pendant had been nearly powerless. She used it only as a simple storage space, completely unaware of its true capabilities.
Learning this now, Mary's face darkened.
"God, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered. "You brought me back here just to make me the savior again? I thought I escaped the apocalypse—now you're telling me I have to relive that nightmare? You fuc*ing heavens..."
The space did not respond.
It simply continued glowing politely as if she hadn't cursed at the heavens.
She groaned and read the next lines.
The space was at its lowest level now. To prevent future disasters, she would need to upgrade it.
To upgrade, she needed… energy stones.
She blinked. "Energy stones? What the hell is that supposed to be?"
Before she could panic further, a soft chime filled the air.
"Space has randomly gifted the host a spirit spring, expanded farmland, and a spatial spirit pet. Activate spirit pet?"
Mary's eyes widened. "A spirit pet?"
This space was getting more absurd by the minute.
Still… a helper wasn't unwelcome. She didn't understand the new functions yet, and having someone—or something—guide her might save her from future disasters.
"Yes—"
Before she finished, the space interrupted her...
"The host's decision took too long. Spirit pet activation will proceed automatically."
Mary nearly choked. "This space has zero manners!"
A flash of white light burst before her. When it faded, a small, fluffy creature sat on the floor.
A tabby cat.
Soft fur, round eyes, striped tail.
Mary stared. "Seriously? A cat?"
The cat lifted its head proudly. "Master, I can assist you with managing the space. My abilities will grow as the space levels up."
"Fine," Mary sighed. "Then help me find the items I stored before. That's why I came in."
The cat flicked its tail. "All of your belongings are in the warehouse. I have a complete record. Anything you need can be summoned instantly. Anything you don't want will be organized automatically."
Right on cue, a large clothes rack appeared beside her—packed with underwear, outerwear, and outfits she had collected during the apocalypse. The efficiency startled her.
This was so much easier than digging through piles.
She picked out a few outfits suitable for the 1980s—plain, not too modern—and stored the rest.
Then she remembered something urgent.
"How does time flow here compared to outside? If I stay too long, Ryan might find the bathroom empty."
The cat sat down primly. "One minute outside equals one hundred minutes in the space. And Master may enter instantly when in danger. More features will unlock after upgrades."
Mary's chest loosened with relief.
That meant she could safely use the space without raising suspicion. Thank goodness.
She recalled how dangerous the apocalypse had been. Mental power users had been terrifying—they could sense even hidden spaces. She had avoided using it too openly back then.
But this time, she had more advantages.
After double-checking her chosen clothes and giving the cat a few final instructions, Mary pressed her hand over her birthmark.
"Exit."
The space blurred, folding around her like mist.
A heartbeat later, she stood again in the small bathroom—exactly where she had disappeared.
She exhaled.
For now, the secret of the space would stay hers alone.
*
Mary slipped out of the bathroom wearing a fresh set of clothes—an old-fashioned floral pajama set, short-sleeved and comfortable. It suited the era well and didn't attract too much attention.
Ryan was already lying on the bed. He had positioned himself stiffly on one side, leaving more than half the space open for her. When he saw her come out, a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes.
Did she bring clothes in with her earlier?
He didn't remember seeing those pajamas anywhere.
But the outfit looked good on her. Clean... Soft... Something about her whole appearance felt more pleasing to the eye than before. Ever since she woke from her fever, she seemed… very different.
But in a good way, though. Her presence tugged at him in ways he didn't understand.
Mary quietly lay down, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep. Her mind, however, was whirling with problems.
Energy stones.
Money.
Freedom.
Her complicated situation with Ryan.
The space had revealed too much. Too much responsibility. Too much future danger. How was she supposed to gather energy stones? How was she supposed to earn money in a world where jobs were scarce and wages tiny?
And what was she supposed to do about Ryan?
Between those troubling thoughts, exhaustion finally pulled her under, and she drifted into sleep.
Ryan turned toward her. The moment he confirmed she was sleeping, he gently, almost cautiously, draped an arm around her waist.
She didn't move.
He exhaled softly and fell asleep, too.
"Husband and wife can grow closer slowly," he thought before slipping into the dreams.
The Next Morning;
Mary woke at six, blinking in confusion. The other side of the bed was empty—Ryan was already gone.
Her stomach was empty too.
She washed her face, changed clothes, and stepped into the small main room. On the table sat a bowl of warm porridge and a small plate of pickled radish. He had left her breakfast.
Her heart softened a little.
She sat down and ate quickly. The porridge was simple but comforting. The radish had a crisp bite. Still, she missed spicy flavors—craved chili oil, garlic heat, something with fire.
She made a mental note: I'll make chili oil later. And pickles. I can't live without spice.
After eating, she cleaned the dishes, tidied the room, and remembered the borrowed rice next door. She went to the kitchen, found a clean bag, and filled it generously. Sister Kristen had been kind.
She knocked on the door.
Kristen opened it with a surprised smile. She was still wearing her apron, probably preparing breakfast.
Mary lifted the bag slightly. "Can I come in? I brought back the rice from yesterday."
Kristen blinked, flustered. "Ah—yes, yes. Come in! I'll pour you some water."
Mary stepped inside.
Kristen's home was arranged much like hers—two rooms, a small living area—but filled with more things. Toys for a child. Folded clothes. A few extra pots and pans. The faint smell of milk powder lingered in the air.
Mary set the bag on the table.
Kristen busied herself at the stove, boiling water. "This gas stove is convenient," she said. "At home, you have to light a fire. Too much trouble."
She glanced at the bag Mary brought and paused. It was clearly more rice than she had given yesterday. A small smile tugged at her lips. She appreciated the gesture.
Mary sat politely. "Sister, I wanted to ask you something. How do we buy things around here? And what are the prices like?"
Kristen laughed softly. "You're new—you'll learn fast. The bus only comes twice a day. Once at 8 a.m. and again at 2 p.m."
"When does it return?" Mary asked.
"About 10:30 and 4:30. If you miss the last bus at 4:30, you'll have to stay in the city overnight."
Mary nodded. Important information.
"As for prices," Kristen continued, "grain is costlier here than in villages. Rice is a little more than 3 shillings (36 pence) a kilo. Cornflour is under 1 shilling. Vegetables cost a few pence depending on the season. But ask around—the girls are good at comparing prices."
Mary listened carefully. Prices weren't high, but money was limited. It explained why everyone lived frugally.
She noticed Kristen's expression shift—something like envy.
Mary had no children. Ryan was on track to become deputy factory director. Their life would be far easier than hers.
Mary offered a warm smile but remained silent. She was grateful she didn't pull out the five Pounds yesterday. For someone like Kristen, five Pounds was a month's worth of meals.
Food wasn't just about money—it required ration tickets. Grain tickets. Oil tickets. Meat tickets. Everything costs both money and coupons with a strict purchase limit.
She glanced at the calendar on Kristen's wall.
The year.
The month.
Her mind spun with calculations.
I need money. A lot of it. And ways to earn without attracting suspicion.
After chatting a little longer, Mary stood up.
"Sister, thank you. I'll let you cook. I'll visit again later."
Kristen nodded, waving her off kindly.
Back Home;
Walking back, Mary felt heat building behind her eyes.
She needed to inspect the space again.
She needed to know what items she could take out, sell, or exchange.
Ryan's salary was barely enough for food. She couldn't rely on him—not with the apocalypse looming ahead.
Her path would have to be built by her own hands.
She closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and readied herself to enter the space again.