She was dying again. But no one mourned her. Not even herself.
Their voices echoed, cruel and cold.
> "Is she dead?"
"Good. She should've died long ago."
Faces blurred. Accusations flew like knives, each word heavier than the last.
> "She killed the Queen and King—her own parents."
"And her master. I heard she betrayed them all."
"She ended the life of the Prince of Heaven… before taking her own."
Laughter. Whispers. Condemnation.
Demon. Sinner. Witch.
Her heart twisted as if trying to defend itself against a truth it didn't recognize. Her name wasn't spoken—no one dared to say it aloud. But it didn't matter. The shame was stitched into every breath she took.
She looked down.
Why does it hurt so much... if I really am a monster?
Suddenly, a voice rose above the sea of hatred.
> "How dare they talk like that about our princess?! They never even knew her!"
She turned.
A small group stood nearby, defiant in the face of scorn.
> "She was brave," one said.
"She was kind," another whispered.
"She died alone because she was betrayed."
Tears spilled from her eyes. Not just sorrow—something deeper. Recognition.
Then the scene shattered.
Steel rang against steel. A training ground. A girl—no older than seventeen—clashed swords with a poised, graceful woman.
> "Yu Bin," the woman called. "If you saw a man kill someone on the street, what would you do?"
The girl faltered.
> "Killing is wrong," she said. "Isn't it?"
> "Yes," her master answered gently. "But judgment… is never simple. What if that man lost everything? What if those he killed were monsters wearing masks?"
> "Justice," the master whispered. "That's what we fight for. But justice is not always clean. Not everything white is pure, and not everything black is evil."
Yu Bin stood frozen in the dream. The name echoed.
Yu Bin… that's me. Isn't it?
Then came laughter. The scent of jasmine and tea. Her parents appeared—alive, teasing her.
> "You little devil," her father grinned.
"She's our pride," her mother whispered, ruffling her hair.
She ran into their arms. Their warmth was real. Too real.
Then, just like that—they were gone.
Her master returned, eyes filled with sorrow.
> "It wasn't your fault, my dear Yu Bin."
A hug. A smile. And then—
"Miss, wake up. Miss… wake up!"
She gasped.
Eyes flew open. She was on the bus. Rain tapped gently at the window beside her.
The old driver offered a kind smile.
> "We've reached your stop, miss."
Yu Bin blinked, still caught between worlds.
> "Oh. Thank you, sir."
She gathered her bag, stood, and bowed lightly to him.
> "Thank you for always guarding our city," he said quietly.
> "It's my duty to protect you," she answered.
But the pain from the dream lingered like an echo in her bones.
What did it mean? Was it only a nightmare—or a memory long buried?
And somewhere deep in her soul, the voice returned:
Not everything white is pure. And not everything black is evil.