[Before the War]

The night was cold, and the sea was silent.

The northern fleet carved through the black waters under a pale moon, its ships cutting a ghostly trail of silver light.

Noah stood at the edge of one of those vessels, the wind brushing through his hair as he watched the reflection of the moon ripple across the sea.

His coat fluttered against the wind, his eyes unmoving.

Behind him, the soldiers of the North slept, their breaths rising and falling in unison.

None of them knew he was leaving.

His small wooden boat waited, tethered to the side of the warship.

He descended quietly, boots barely making a sound as he untied the rope.

With one last glance toward the distant lights of the northern fleet, he pushed off.

The oars dipped into the water, slow and steady, like the heartbeat of the sea itself.

Ahead, shrouded in mist, was a small island.

A anctuary belonging to the St. Eldred Church, it was said to be a place where even gods came to rest.

And waiting there for him ... was her.

---

The island was quiet save for the sound of the waves caressing the white stone shore. Noah's boots crunched against gravel as he walked through an arched gate, the crest of the St. Eldred Church faded but still visible upon its pillars.

A single structure stood at the island's heart ...a hut-like building, not too small, not too grand, with vines curling over its stone walls. Through the open doorway, a pale light spilled out moonlight reflecting off glass and marble.

He entered.

The air inside was cold and clean, heavy with the faint scent of lilies.

White statues lined the walls, their faces serene and holy... Saints of ages past, their gazes turned heavenward.

He walked down the central aisle.

And at the altar… stood Maya.

Her back was to him.

Her dark violet hair cascaded like liquid silk, glimmering beneath the shaft of moonlight pouring from the glass dome above.

The faint curve of her shoulders, bare beneath the open-back design of her clergy robe, caught the silvery glow.

Her hands were clasped in prayer, her lips murmuring softly to the heavens.

When she turned, her movements were fluid and graceful her purple eyes meeting his.

"How have you been… Noah?"

Her voice was soft, melodic.

The corners of her eyes curved upward like crescent moons as she smiled.

Noah didn't answer.

His eyes lingered, searching her expression for something. But all he found was serenity.

---

A few minutes later, they sat across from one another.

A small white table separated them with porcelain teapot steaming, twin cups beside it.

Everything in the sanctuary was white: the walls, the furniture, the light itself.

Even the delicate robes Maya wore ...long, flowing, threaded with faint golden embroidery made her look more like a painting than a person.

"Tea?" she asked, tilting her head.

"You're not trying to poison me this time, are you?"

Noah replied dryly.

Maya shook her head before lifting her cup.

"Not this time."

He mirrored her gesture, taking a slow sip while maintaining eye contact.

The taste was faintly sweet... chamomile, perhaps.

He set the cup down, eyes narrowing.

"Let's cut the act."

Her smile didn't fade.

"What truth did you want to tell me?" he asked, voice low.

His brows furrowed before adding.

"And how the hell do you know my earth name?"

Maya's gaze softened. For the first time, her expression seemed… tired.

"Noah," she said quietly.

"I'm the creator of this narrative."

His brow twitched.

"…What?"

"By creator," she continued, hands resting over one another neatly.

"I mean the Author."

He stared at her. For a moment, the world felt hollow.

The air itself seemed to stop.

"That's impossible," Noah said. His voice was steady, but his eyes weren't.

"I killed the author. The one with orange hair. I—"

Maya interrupted, shaking her head gently. "That was a plagiarist...."

Noah blinked slowly. "Plagiarist… author?"

"Yes." Her tone was calm, factual. "He copied my story....and that version became famous enough to be adapted into a game."

The pieces began to turn in Noah's mind.

"When I found out," Maya said, "I joined the development team behind the adaptation.

I was already a Computer Science major. Writing was only ever a hobby... but I wanted justice for my work."

Her eyes flickered, reflecting the candlelight. "In time, I became a senior developer. And eventually, I was placed in charge of the very project that created this world."

Noah's lips parted slightly. His pupils trembled.

Maya tilted her head.

"You're realizing it now, aren't you?"

He could see the memory flashing

A night in his old apartment. The glow of a computer screen. A game he'd just finished and left him angry, disappointed, broken by the ending.

He'd left a scathing review.

And hours later, a reply came from...

"...the senior developer..."

"So it was you…" he muttered. His heart thudded painfully in his chest.

"You were the one who sent me here."

Maya smiled faintly, placing her cup down.

"Yes."

"But why me?" Noah demanded, his voice sharper now.

"Out of all the players who left bad reviews... why me?

I'm sure I wasn't the only one..."

Her answer was quiet, almost tender.

"Because it's all tied to you...Kim Hajun."

His breath caught.

Maya's eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight.

"You see, Noah… you were already a part of this world ...if not many worlds."

Noah's mind buzzed. His throat went dry. "What are you talking about?"

She leaned back in her chair, her tone soft but heavy with something ancient.

"You and I… have met before. Long ago."

Her next words tore through him.

"This world speaks of Seven Great Witches — each bearing a sin, each ruling an age.

"You know the tale," Maya continued, her voice echoing faintly in the marble hall.

"Of the Witch of Envy ...the one who destroyed the world after losing her lover."

She placed a hand against her chest.

"I...am the Witch of Envy."

She contineued.

"It's said that there were seven witches...but there was actually an eighth...

The 8th was the lover to the witch of envy...

Amd that was none other than you..."

Noah's mind raced.

Noah's vision blurred with fragments of memory.

He remembered when he was fighting the Asbourne vassals he pushed his body to the limit when he had the system and the sin curse and after he broke free of it...

he was in a white expanse.

He had come face to face with the witch of envy who told him, 'You will know everything when you meet her at the door.'

And now, here he was.

That person he would see and know everything was...

"Maya…"

He whispered, realization dawning.

The tea sat forgotten between them now.

Her voice was calm, almost sorrowful.

"My soul shattered after that war... fragments scattered across different realities.

One of them became Maya Brenthall. That's how I came to possess this body… and why I played the role of the lover who destroyed the academy according to the very thread of fate I had created and put on the said body..."

She paused, fingers tracing the rim of her teacup.

"Because that's how I wrote the story... over and over as Hanni, the girl from Seoul who was once a developer… and an author...which was also a soul fragment of mine..."

Noah's chest tightened.

"That's the same with you," she whispered.

"Your soul broke apart as well...scattering across worlds."

Her gaze sharpened.

"One became Noah Ashbourne...who is the game version you first possessed.

Another became the real Noah which you now inhabit...the one this world remembers as the final villain....

And the last…"

Her lips curved faintly.

"The last fragment became Kim Hajun — the man from Seoul."

Noah froze.

Maya leaned forward slightly, her eyes glimmering.

"So tell me, Noah…"

She said softly.

"Why do you keep pretending not to remember the life you've lived the longest… as Kim Hajun?"