In the hospice of the chapel, the only sound was the priest's low drone. In the suffocating silence, Elena could hear her own shallow, fading breath.

  She was dying.

  The church had notified her family to come for a final goodbye, but they were nowhere to be seen. Just as the darkness began to pull her under, she heard Octavia's sharp voice.

  "...We have a wedding to plan at home! How can we bring a corpse back now? Sienna finally found her biological parents—you can't let her touch a dead body on her wedding day!"

  So they were forced to come for me? Elena thought.

  Then came her twin brother Leon's voice. "Is she not your sister anymore? Doesn't she deserve to be buried at home?"

  "If she died out here, let her stay out here!" Octavia snapped. "There's no point wasting the money."

  ...

  The faint chirping of cicadas drowned out the sound of their cold, receding footsteps. Or perhaps the priest had simply started chanting louder on purpose.

  Elena's mind was a blur. She couldn't wrap her head around how her family could abandon the daughter who had been sensible her whole life, only to embrace the one they had given away years ago.

  Sienna... was having a wedding at home? They couldn't even wait for a funeral? Or did they never plan to give her one at all?

  Elena wanted to scream, to protest their heartless decision, but in their eyes, she was already as good as dead. To earn money for them, she had left home without a second thought, giving them everything.

  Did she hate them? Yes, she did. But she didn't even have the strength left to feel that hatred. Better to die and forget it all. Better to never have anything to do with this family again.

  Elena forced her eyes open one last time. Through a narrow slit of vision, she saw the priest's chin moving. The August sun was beautiful, but it was time to say goodbye to this world.

  ...

  Meow!

  A cat darted from a corner and scrambled right over Elena's toes. She blinked, dazed.

  Why is there a cat in the prayer room?

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Octavia's voice was still loud, but different: "It's too far! I'm not going. Why should I be the one to go out and work for everyone?"

  "Mom, I've worked so hard! I dropped out at twelve to work in a factory. It's been ten years. I gave you half of every paycheck! Now I finally have a stable job and I'm old enough to get married."

  "And now you want me to leave home and give my job to Leon? Why?!"

  Octavia wasn't just arguing now—she was roaring.

  "Leon is your son, not mine! Why should I give him my job just because I'm the older sister? He's a man! Why can't he go out and earn money? Why must it be me?"

  "The army is forcing every household to send one person for logistics—what does that have to do with me? I'm getting married! I won't even belong to this family soon!"

  Elena hated her sister's bickering, especially when she was trying to die in peace.

  Wait. Do I look like I'm dying?

  She looked down at her feet. She was wearing a pair of cheap rubber shoes—the very ones the cat had just scrambled over. Its paws, blackened with soot, had left a cluster of flower-like prints across the top of her shoes.

  Soot? Yes, soot. And a hearth fire was burning right in front of her.

  It was a simple iron stove with a dented aluminum pot on top. Thick corn porridge bubbled inside. Elena found herself sitting in a thatched hut. Sunlight streamed through a hole in the roof, and through the open wooden door—a door so old it was polished black with use.

  This is the kitchen from years ago!

  The realization hit her like a lightning bolt. In the corner, a dragonfly was trapped in a spiderweb. Elena walked over and set it free.

  But the sticky web clinging to her fingers sent a jolt of reality through her—it felt real. It was real.

  She remembered this. Five years ago, before their land was sold, she had saved a dragonfly in this very kitchen. In the five years before she died, she had often looked at the high-rises built on their old land and missed this ragged hut.

  Now, she was standing in it.

  This isn't a dream! Please, don't let it be a dream!

  Elena pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart was thudding wildly. The only explanation: she was back.

  Five years ago, the war required every household to send one person to the front lines for support. That explained Octavia's outburst.

  "Octavia, calm down. Leon is a man; if he goes, they'll force a gun into his hand. He's my only son!" That was their mother's voice.

  "Then why can't Elena go? Just because she's 'sick'?" Octavia screamed. "I know your scheme! You want to force me to that dangerous place so Leon can take my job. Elena doesn't have a job, so you won't force her. But she's eighteen and already out of high school! It's time she earned her own living. I bet she's just faking it!"

  Listening to them, Elena remembered. Everyone said she wouldn't survive birth and told her mother to give her away. Her mother had almost called an agency, but a fortune teller claimed Elena would bring wealth. So, her mother had sent away the middle sister, Sienna, instead.

  Elena knew. For eighteen years, her mother had regretted the choice to keep her every time Elena caught a cold. They had never been kind to her.

  In her past life, Octavia had married a random man just to escape the draft, then blamed Elena forever after. Since she was destined for the front lines anyway, she might as well leave on her own terms.

  Elena stepped out of the kitchen.

  "I'll go," she said, her voice steady. "I'll sign up for the support units."

  Both her mother and Octavia froze. Elena's gaze was hard. Her face was pale, bloodless, but as she stood on the threshold, she didn't flinch.

  This cold, distant Elena... she wasn't joking.