Recarnation of the villainess.

The next morning came quietly.

No sunrise. Just pale light leaking through thick, unmoving clouds. The wind whispered outside like a lullaby sung by ghosts. The "kingdom" the Emperor granted them remained as bleak as ever—frozen rivers, skeletal trees, and the royal estate still creaking in misery.

Inside, Salira—Iris—was already awake. She moved like a woman on a mission.

"No one else will freeze under my roof."

She had unpacked a dozen heaters she'd built with Faer's help, customized them with temperature sensors and safety locks, then scattered them in key rooms. There was no warmth in this place—but she'd force it into being.

Just as she finished soldering wires on one heater, the front door slammed open.

"Master!" she called, a rare light in her voice.

Faer walked in, arms crossed, scarf tangled around his neck, carrying boxes of tools. "You're still alive. Disappointing."

Salira chuckled. "Good morning to you too."

Adam stepped in behind Faer, snow dusting his coat. "He almost tripped over a tree root outside and blamed the wind."

"I have my reasons," Faer grumbled. "Sword boy, don't speak unless I calibrate you."

"I'm not a machine," Adam snapped, brushing snow off.

"I wouldn't know. You seem to operate only in violence and smugness."

Salira sighed. "Play nice. The heaters are not flameproof, and if you start a fight, you're sleeping outside."

Faer gave Adam a long look. "...I've slept in worse places."

Adam crossed his arms. "Then you'll be comfortable."

"ENOUGH," Salira groaned. "One of you is a genius, and the other is… sharp. Together, you might be half-useful."

They worked in uneasy silence.

Faer handed her materials with precision. Adam lifted collapsed beams like they were feathers. And though they glared at each other constantly, neither left her side. Salira noticed. And smiled, just barely.

Hours later, Faer started working on a power converter while Salira decided to inspect the west wing.

Most of the estate was still unusable. Collapsed ceilings, mildew, ancient rot. But one hallway led her to a strange room.

At its center stood a massive stone statue.

It was old. Worn.

And it looked like her.

She stepped closer. Her breath fogged the air.

Its eyes were closed, arms raised to the sky. Moss clung to the base. But the resemblance was unmistakable. Even in ruin.

"What in the…" she whispered.

She turned to leave—

A shadow passed behind her.

She spun. Nothing.

But her skin prickled.

The air had gone still.

"…Master?" she called, voice soft.

No reply.

Just the sound of her heartbeat.

She glanced once more at the statue—its head now slightly turned.

No. That's impossible.

---

Meanwhile, in the courtyard—

Faer was adjusting the output voltage when they both heard it:

A scream.

Salira's scream.

It tore through the air like a knife.

Faer dropped the wires.

Adam froze—and then sprinted.

They ran through the halls—footsteps echoing wildly.

And then—

Time stopped.

Faer froze mid-step, one hand reaching for his sword.

Snow outside paused mid-fall. A single droplet of water hung suspended in midair.

Only Adam moved.

He looked around in disbelief. "What…?"

And then—he turned.

Straight at YOU.

His eyes locked with something—someone.

"…You," he said.

There was no question in his tone.

Just fact.

"You're watching, aren't you? Just reading. While we suffer."

His boots echoed on the wooden floor as he stepped forward.

"You think this is just a story."

He clenched his fists.

"You think we're just pieces on a board."

He stared into the void—the reader.

"...You're lucky the Author likes you. Otherwise…"

His eyes darkened.

"It would have come for you already."

He tilted his head.

"You don't even know what it is yet, do you?"

He smiled—just a little. But it wasn't kind.

"Vote. Comment. Keep the story alive. Or else…"

"She won't protect you much longer."

And then—

Time snapped back.

Faer gasped and kept running.

They reached the west wing.

Salira stood in front of the statue.

Breathing heavily.

"Did you… scream?" Adam asked, panting.

Salira stared forward, frozen.

The statue's eyes were open.