A low humming sound resonated.

Behind Cheonma’s back, a rift yawned open, its surface shimmering with a deep violet hue that carried an unmistakable, foreboding presence. From within the fissure, a sinister black mist slithered out, curling in the air, and the mere sight of it made me frown. I knew precisely why.

That rift—

‘It’s the same one she used in my past life.’

The dimensional tear that Cheonma frequently opened to traverse between realms.

At first glance, it resembled the Magyeong Gate, yet no demonic beasts emerged from it. Unlike the gate, it seemed to serve only as a means of travel—or perhaps for some other unknown purpose. Even I had never learned what lay beyond it.

Its nature felt vaguely similar to the power Cheol Ji-seon once wielded—

‘But something is different.’

Despite the resemblance, I could tell it was not the same. There was a fundamental disparity between this and the power Cheol Ji-seon had used.

‘Why didn’t I realize it sooner?’

More importantly—why had I not remembered? Cheonma could open rifts.

It had happened before, back at the Divine Dragon Pavilion—

‘She appeared through a rift back then.’

The rift she opened that day had been nearly identical to this one. So why had I forgotten something so crucial?

“...Hey.”

“Hm?”

“What is that? What do you use it for?”

“Hmm?”

Cheonma turned her head toward me, glancing back at the rift she had emerged from. Her pale hand rose, and with a casual, downward swipe—

Kiiiiiiiik—!!!

The rift closed with a dreadful, grating sound, vanishing completely without leaving the slightest trace.

Cheonma’s voice followed—

“My home.”

“...Home?”

“Yeah. Home.”

The word made my eyes narrow. What did she mean by home? A sudden thought surfaced in my mind.

“If you’re calling it home... does that mean you can reach Zhongyuan through it?”

Cheonma’s home—where Gu Ryunghwa was.

If she called that place her home, could this rift be a path back there?

I spoke aloud, voicing my suspicion—

“Nope.”

Cheonma tilted her head slightly, her expression curious, as though she found my question strange.

“That’s not my home.”

“...What?”

If that place wasn’t her home—then what was it?

The disbelief in my voice must have been clear, for Cheonma’s eyes glinted slightly before she asked—

“Do you want to see it? My home?”

“...”

What was she implying?

“If you want, I can show you.”

“If you’re curious enough.”

My eyes widened. She was... offering to show me?

‘But she never showed it to me before... not even once.’

In my past life, no matter the circumstance, she had never let me see it. I had never outright asked, but if I so much as hinted at my curiosity, Cheonma’s answer had always been the same—

‘Curious, are you?’

Her lips would curl in that familiar, mocking smirk—

‘Then stop being curious.’

Even if the world ended—

‘No matter what, I will never show it to you.’

The memory of those words resurfaced, and my gaze sharpened.

Now, with such ease, she offered to reveal it to me if I simply said the word.

The answer formed almost immediately—faster than I expected.

“I’m curious.”

Yes. I was. If I could see it—then I should.

I spoke without hesitation—

“Alright.”

Cheonma nodded, her expression as calm as ever, and with a slight movement of her hand—

Kigigigigik—!!!

Her claws sliced through the air—

The rift opened once more, the same violet-tinged Magyeong-like gate from before.

Without pause, Cheonma stepped through the shimmering threshold.

Just as her figure began to disappear into the darkness, she glanced back at me and spoke—

“Follow me.”

“...”

And then she was gone.

I stood alone, facing the rift.

I had said I was curious—

But was it truly wise to step through?

‘...Curiosity aside—’

I had been walking alongside Cheonma far too naturally, without considering what that truly meant.

And now, I was about to follow her into a place that radiated nothing but danger.

‘What if... this was her intention from the start?’

It could be.

I should never let my guard down, yet somewhere along the way, I already had.

‘...Tch.’

The thought made me hesitate.

Was it really a good idea to step into the unknown?

As I lingered in indecision—

Kiiiiiiiing—!!

The rift began to close.

At that sight—

I moved.

I stepped through, letting my body pass the threshold into the unknown.

The first sensation that struck me was familiarity.

The rift’s corridor was woven from Cheonma’s demonic energy—familiar, yet unsettling in its alien texture.

The passage stretched endlessly before me. I walked, and walked further still—yet the end never seemed to come.

I kept my guard up. How could I not, when I was traversing a space forged entirely from Cheonma’s own power?

‘Who knows when this energy might suddenly bare its fangs at me.’

The danger was palpable, and I walked forward, every step brimming with tension.

Could this truly be an endless corridor? The thought crept in—

But just as it did—

A light appeared in the distance. Was that the exit?

My pace quickened, instinctively drawn toward it—

Hwaaaaaak—!!!

My vision distorted—colors twisted and blurred—before snapping into perfect clarity as the scenery shifted.

“...Huh?”

My brow furrowed in confusion.

This place—

It was nothing like I had expected.

I had braced myself for a land of desolation—a withered plain, a bleak and hollow sky, and earth so decayed it crumbled underfoot.

I had assumed it would be like those forgotten lands—like the place where Mua had once dwelled.

But—

‘This is...’

It was nothing like that.

It was... clear. The sky was impossibly clear.

Not quite blue—the sky carried the warm hues of an endless twilight, the golden tint of a sun that had nearly finished its descent.

There were no clouds, only a vast, open sky, and I could sense the time—the moon was close to rising.

The land itself—

Not barren or dead—

But a sea of soft, green grass, stretching endlessly around me.

And the sound—

The gentle trickle of water reached my ears.

I turned my gaze, and from the distance, a clear, sparkling stream flowed down from a valley.

Towering trees stood guard on every side, their crowns forming a thick, vibrant canopy.

This place—

This ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ was no forgotten ruin.

It was... too clear.

Too bright. Too vivid.

And yet—

“...Familiar?”

The sensation struck deeper.

It felt familiar.

As though I had stood here once before.

“What is this place...?”

That familiarity gnawed at me.

Why did this place feel so known—so distant and close at once?

“At a glance... it almost resembles Zhongyuan.”

But every instinct told me—

This was not Zhongyuan.

No—

Then what was this place?

I turned my gaze, searching for Cheonma.

“Where is she?”

Where could she be? I had no idea where this place was, but finding her came first.

A soft rustling sound accompanied the wind as it passed, carrying leaves that brushed lightly against me. A faint scent lingered on the air.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a familiar fragrance, the kind I had encountered countless times. Yet the moment it reached me, a strange, fluttering sensation stirred within my chest.

This feeling—it had lingered since the moment I arrived. There was something peculiar about this place.

It was a sensation I had always known. Or perhaps, one I had longed for.

‘No matter how I look at it...’

It felt like I had been here before.

“...Hah.”

I let out a slow breath, drawing up my energy. Whatever this place was, finding Cheonma came first.

I expanded my senses, pushing my perception to its limit, searching for her presence.

Cheonma had always been difficult to detect. Her presence was elusive, subtle—much like Wi Seol-ah’s.

I braced myself, expecting a challenge—

But—

‘Huh?’

There was no need.

The moment I reached out with my senses, I felt her. The clarity of her presence struck me as odd.

‘There.’

And she wasn’t far.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I moved. My steps carried me swiftly toward her.

The trees blurred past as I raced through the forest. In an instant, I arrived. My feet pressed into soft grass as I came to a halt, but a faint crease formed between my brows as I took in the scene before me.

The heart of the forest had been hollowed out, forming a clearing. It didn’t look natural—

It was a garden, cultivated with care and designed with intent.

Drururuk—! Tak!

The rhythmic creak of a waterwheel reached my ears.

My gaze followed the sound to a pond, where the wheel turned steadily, feeding the flow.

Beneath the water’s surface, koi fish swam in graceful arcs, their scales flashing in vibrant colors.

The scene before me evoked a single thought—

Peace.

That was all it was.

Simply—peaceful and beautiful.

A warmth, gentle and rich, radiated from the well-tended garden, enveloping my senses.

It was astonishing. To think that such a serene place existed beyond the veil of that ominous, violet-hued dimension.

And—

‘She called this place her home?’

Cheonma herself had named this place—home.

The thought lingered, and I found myself quietly observing the surroundings. Why had she created something like this here?

Had Cheonma built this?

Yet—

‘Even this feels familiar.’

My gaze fell upon the small dwelling within the garden’s heart. It wasn’t large—

A modest house, built of aged wood, its wear softened by care and affection. Though the structure showed signs of time, the effort and devotion in its upkeep were undeniable.

A home like this wasn’t unique. It was the sort of simple house I might have seen anywhere in Zhongyuan. Recognizing it wouldn’t have been strange—

But—

‘No. It’s not that kind of familiarity.’

It wasn’t familiar because it resembled the homes of Zhongyuan, nor because it reminded me of some place I had passed through long ago.

This familiarity—

It was something deeper.

It came not from memory but from instinct, raw and unshakable.

I knew—

I had seen this place before.

Not something like it—

This very place.

It wasn’t my mind telling me—

It was something deeper.

Perhaps—

My heart.

Thump.

It pounded.

The scent, the scenery, the air itself—everything around me stirred my heart into a rhythm, heavy and insistent.

My vision trembled.

I stood motionless, speechless, unable to tear my eyes from the small house.

Seconds passed—

Then minutes—

Until—

“Here.”

A voice.

The single word broke the silence, and I turned toward it.

Beyond the pond, seated on the porch of the wooden house—

Cheonma.

Her long black hair shifted softly with the breeze, the sound of the waterwheel a quiet backdrop to her stillness. The golden light of the setting sun spilled across the scene, casting her figure in a soft, dreamlike glow.

She narrowed her eyes against the sun’s glare and lifted a hand, shading her violet eyes from the light.

Her gaze, calm and distant, met mine—

Then—

“Here.”

She patted the spot beside her—twice.

A simple gesture, light and unspoken.

The meaning, however, was clear—

She was telling me to come.

And at that moment—

—Come. Sit here.

Her voice—

It brushed against my ears—

But her lips—

Had not moved.

The voice had been hers—

Yet she had not spoken.

Despite that—

My body moved.

Without knowing why, without questioning—

I walked forward and sat beside her.