After I died, Everything Changed - Chapter 36

“Well now… I came to watch a rain ritual and ended up witnessing something extraordinary.”

Henry let out a quiet laugh as he stared at Irene, poised like a crimson blossom blooming atop the white altar.

Despite the fact that her ceremonial robes were soaked through with blood, Irene sat upright, her posture so unwavering that it defied belief.

“What in the world happened here…?”

His aide, Melik, clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“She’s going to die if this keeps up!”

“Her lips are pale.”

Henry noticed the ghostly color of Irene’s mouth.

“Shouldn’t the ritual be called off?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd around them.
People were beginning to whisper the same thing.

“She’ll die at this rate!”

Henry turned his gaze toward the Lord of Mergen.

The retainers were clearly panicking, unsure of what to do. Yet the lord himself sat still, his eyes locked on Irene, calm and unshaken.

“…Unexpected.”

Henry couldn’t quite read where the man’s heart lay.

A flicker of regret crossed Henry’s mind.

Why? Why did it have to be like this?

He folded his arms, observing how things would unfold.

“She’ll die up there!”

Someone shouted—but the cry was drowned out by the swelling drumbeats echoing across the mountain.

Henry turned his eyes to the maid pounding the drum with desperate strength.

“…Now I feel a little guilty.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Melik looked up at him.

“I underestimated her. Badly.”

Henry had thought no one could ever match Deborah in Mergen.
That no replacement could even come close.

He had dismissed Irene as a poor substitute.

And now?

“She’s fiercer than the last one.”

Looking at Irene up on that platform, Henry felt something more than shock.

It was reverence.

It took no more than three seconds for him to firmly decide:

This is not a woman you make an enemy of.

And at that moment—

Drip… drop.

Rain began to fall.

“Rain! It’s raining!”

A voice broke out, and suddenly cheers surged like a wave.

Henry held out his palm.

The thickening droplets gathered in his hand, one after another.

That sun-soaked sky… had finally surrendered to Irene.

“How could anyone hope to stand against a woman who even wins over the sky?”

He closed his hand around the droplets, fingers curling slowly.

His gaze returned to the altar.

Beyond the dancing crowd, he caught sight of Abel running up the steps.

Abel reached Irene and gently cradled her limp body in his arms before descending.

It was… a strange image. Beautiful, yet ominous.

Henry’s eyes followed Abel’s rush down the stairs—

And then stopped.

His gaze landed on someone in the crowd.

‘That man…’

A silver-haired old man had captured his attention.

* * *

“What the hell happened to you?! And what’s with Irene?!”

The ritual was over.

Roosevelt grabbed Vermont by the shoulders and shook him roughly.

But Vermont looked deranged—trembling, eyes darting as if something were still chasing him.

He was clearly out of it.

“As if she… as if she walked out of the grave…”

“You okay? You’re not making any sense—”

“She was dead… She had to be… trampled… under those buffalo…”

Noting the unnatural state Vermont was in, Roosevelt quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

“Don’t tell me… You didn’t actually try something stupid, did you?”

“She was dead. I swear she was dead…”

“You— Did you actually try to kill her? Did she see you?”

Roosevelt’s face hardened.

“She came at me! Her hand was around my throat—!”

“You lunatic. Do you think Chloe will let you live if she finds out?”

Roosevelt jumped back in alarm.

“P-please. Please, spare me… I’m begging you…”

Vermont fell to his knees, crawling on the ground with his hands clasped in desperation.

“Did she really see you?”

Roosevelt’s voice softened, almost kindly, as he knelt beside the trembling man.

He even patted Vermont gently on the shoulder.

Vermont gulped and slowly nodded.

In that same moment, Roosevelt’s hand clamped down on his shoulder with crushing force.

“Khh—!”

It was all a mess.

The ritual. The plan. Vermont.

And now? No one could say who would suffer the fallout—or how far it would spread.

A fresh wave of dread swept through Roosevelt’s chest.

* * *

When I came to, one thought echoed through my head:

“Did I die?”

Was I dead again?

I really hadn’t wanted things to end like this—not this time.

If I had truly died again, I probably wouldn’t even reach the gates of heaven.

Not with everything I owed Irene.

There’d be no place for me there.

Flick—

My fingers twitched.

Still alive, then.

A wave of relief washed over me.

But with that relief came pain—cold, biting aches across every limb.

Especially my side—it felt like it was on fire.

“……”

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

And for a split second, I prayed I wasn’t waking up in hell.

Thankfully, the ceiling above me was familiar.

The manor.

So I had made it back. Someone had brought me here and treated me.

“Whew…”

I let out a shaky breath and started to sit up—but something pressed against my collarbone, stopping me.

“Don’t move yet. You’re still under painkillers—your senses will be dulled.”

A quiet, low voice spoke—calm and restrained.

“…Abel?”

The hand holding me down… was Abel’s.

His touch was firm, warm. And he was still here.

“The stab wound was deep.”

“Ah…”

I glanced down at my abdomen.

I couldn’t see anything through the blanket and bandages, but the pressure across my stomach told me I was wrapped up tight.

“I didn’t think you’d be the one I’d see when I woke up.”

At my words, Abel said nothing—he simply gazed down at me.

“You’re not here to finish what you started, are you?”

“…Are you accusing me of something?”

He asked it gently, but the flicker of hurt in his voice was hard to miss.

“Does it bother you?”

“Why?”

His tone was soft, like he was reading a book aloud—but there was something beneath it.

Something that almost sounded like resentment.

“Why would it bother you that I’m here?”

“Well…”

I paused.

Why, indeed?

If I needed a reason, I could list a dozen… but none of them were the answer he wanted.

So I waved my hand vaguely, dismissively.

“What does it matter who’s here? I’m alive. That’s enough.”

Silence fell between us.

The fireplace in the room had been lit, and its warmth gradually pushed back the chill in my bones.

“You’re not going to ask whether it rained or not?”

“Oh. Right.”

How fickle the human heart is.

I had been ready to die for this—and now I was just grateful to be alive, forgetting all about the rain.

“It rained, didn’t it?”

“Were you conscious for it?”

“Not exactly. But… I just felt like it did.”

The sound that had been tapping faintly in the back of my mind earlier… it must’ve been the rain striking the windows.

A quiet laugh slipped out.

I didn’t even realize it had come until I had to collect myself.

Abel, meanwhile, never took his eyes off me.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m laughing when I’ve been stabbed in the side, right?”

I asked, catching the distant look in his eyes.

Abel responded with his usual calm voice.

“Do you want to become the heir that badly?”

His question made me pause.

I thought for a moment.

The answer was still the same: no.

“I’d never call something like that my dream. Becoming heir, head of the family—all of it’s just a means to an end.”

“Means.”

“Yeah. A tool. I only need the position because it’ll help me get what I really want.”

“……”

“It’s like… a primal thirst. Desperate and relentless. If you were dying of thirst, and someone handed you water, would you spit it out just because it’s not what you wanted to drink?”

I saw Abel’s brows tighten.

But in the dim firelight, only half his face was visible. The shadows masked the rest.

Strangely, I always ended up saying too much around this boy.

Maybe it was because Irene, who never got to say what was in her heart, had left everything unsaid.

Or maybe, deep down, I’d always seen him as something close to family.

“Today’s been… surprisingly educational.”

His voice had a trace of a smile in it.

Considering how thoroughly I’d just stolen his spotlight at the ritual, he was remarkably composed.

“But, sister… you should learn to value yourself a little more.”

His words hit hard.

They settled in my chest like a stone.

Mostly because… he was right.

I had no comeback. So, I said nothing.

“Then, I’ll let you rest.”

Abel stood up from the chair beside my bed. His tall frame cast a long shadow against the wall as he moved toward the door.

Click. He turned the knob.

And then paused.

“…Ah, right.”

“……?”

“I forgot to thank you.”

I blinked slowly, struggling to follow.

Maybe it was the medication—my head was foggy.

“Thank you. Sister.”

Sister.

What had I done for him to thank me?

His voice was light. Almost cheerful.

But I didn’t have the energy to dissect it.

My eyelids felt heavier than ever.

“I think… I know which path I need to walk now.”

Right before I slipped into sleep, something strange stirred in my chest.

A vague feeling of déjà vu.

When, exactly, did Abel—who used to look at Irene like she was a bug—start calling me ‘sister’?

* * *

Hunger. Thirst. Desire. Decisions. Tools and ends.

We spend our lives wading through all of it.

But sometimes, those old struggles take on a terrifying new weight.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Roosevelt was pale, terrified by Abel’s sudden arrival.

The sword in Abel’s hand gleamed with cold, unforgiving light.

“I have a question for you.”

“A-anything… go ahead…”

“Who was it?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

Roosevelt’s eyes darted wildly, pretending not to understand.

Abel dragged a nearby chair with a dull scrape and sat down carelessly.

From where he sat, he stared dryly at Roosevelt, who remained frozen on the bed, wary.

The tip of Abel’s sword slowly pressed into the wooden floor.

Resting both hands over the hilt, Abel spoke again—low and quiet:

“I asked you, who was behind today’s attack?”