The name Siwelin rang in Laoha's ears like a chime in a still forest. How could she not recognize it? It belonged to a child she had nurtured most carefully in a previous world.0

However, one question gnawed at her. Why did that name come from Kim Do-Joon's lips?0

“How do you know Siwelin?” Laoha asked steadily, but laced with curiosity.0

“I met her,” Kim Do-Joon replied curtly, as casually as recounting the weather. 0

He went on to explain briefly how, while following the power left by the old man, he had found himself in Siwelin’s ruined world.0

Everyone there had been buried in the soil of that forsaken land. Even Ushas withdrew his forces out of boredom, leaving nothing behind. Yet, Siwelin never stopped praying—all alone, in the wretched, cursed body of a Ghoul, a form that brought agonizing pain with every spark of faith she summoned.0

Hearing this, Laoha’s eyes darkened with guilt and sorrow.0

She remembered. For a moment, she looked back at the world she had abandoned. A burst of unexpected divine energy had caught her attention. 0

She had thought Siwelin had perished long ago—but no, she’d been alive, enduring unimaginable suffering. Realizing this, Laoha had been struck with grief so profound, it left a scar on her heart.0

“So, that was your doing, wasn’t it?” Laoha asked softly, her voice trembling with unspoken emotions.0

“No,” Kim Do-Joon corrected...0