Her childhood was forged in shadows, and she was sharpened into a weapon, trained to be a ghost, a killer—an instrument of vengeance. The target: a decorated general who brought down her family.

But fate doesn't follow orders.

Just as Lara was about to execute her long-planned mission, everything spiraled out of control. A military convoy intercepted her escape route—escorting none other than the general himself. And then came the moment that changed everything.

A blinding crash. Screeching tires. Her body was thrown like a ragdoll, then darkness.

She had a fleeting recollection of another world, another lifetime where kings ruled the land with an iron fist.

But she woke up, and twelve long months had passed. 

She did not know where she was or who she was. She remembered nothing.

They told her different names.

A child with trembling hope whispered, “Mommy, your name is Moira Torres.”

Her doctor insisted, “Your admission slip says Larissa Reyes.”

A hardened general leaned close and commanded, “Remember who you are. Remember your mission.”

Then another general—dangerously calm, incredibly familiar—looked at her as if she mattered and asked, “Can I call you Lara?”

The name unlocked something buried deep in her soul.

Lara Norse Kromwel.
Daughter of General Odin Norse.
Empress of the First Empire.

But the man who watched her most closely dismissed it with cold certainty.
“This is the 21st century,” he said. “What nonsense are you spouting? What Empress?  You are my woman.  You can only be mine!"

The party unfolded like a perfectly timed performance.


The highlight came when the most sought-after magicians in the capital took center stage. Applause rippled across the ballroom as silk scarves became doves, coins disappeared behind tiny ears, and a white rabbit was transformed—shockingly—into the White Rabbit candies that no children could resist.


The parents laughed louder than the children.


For a few hours, the world was innocent.


At exactly 3:00 PM—the precise minute Hubert had entered this world a year ago—the lights dimmed.


A three-tiered cake, iced in ocean-blue waves and crowned with SpongeBob himself, was wheeled out.


Chloe stood beside her son, hands steady.


Hubert blinked at the candle, unaware of the symbolism adults attached to such moments. Chloe guided his tiny hand forward, then they blew together.


I wish for my child to grow healthy and strong and be valiant like his father.


Chapter 93 - What Happened Back Then - Flashback 2