Chapter 1

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart chirped, "Youth has no price tag—straight through to Larkspur on a hard seat!"

But barely half an hour into the ride, she was already complaining that she was tired.

She dragged my boyfriend straight to the sleeper car and told him to grab a berth for her.

Together they spotted a middle berth with nothing on it but a single wooden box.

Eyes shining with delight, the childhood sweetheart moved to shove the box aside and lie down.

But the old woman in the lower berth stopped her, tears in her eyes.

"Child, this is my son's spot. Please, let him rest in peace."

Hearing the old woman's words,

I stepped forward at once and stopped my boyfriend, who was about to fly into a rage and berate her.

I forced the two of them to leave.

Out of pure spite, Shelagh stood for more than forty hours straight, and between the severe altitude sickness and the exhaustion, she died before the train ever reached the station.

My boyfriend was perfectly calm.

After he handled her funeral arrangements, he proposed to me sooner than I'd expected.

For the honeymoon, we chose Larkspur.

But on the way there, my boyfriend bought himself a sleeper berth and bought me, in early pregnancy, a standing ticket.

On that same train he simply watched me stand for two days and two nights, until in the end both I and my unborn child were gone...

Staring at my shrinking belly and the blood pooling beneath me,

Melvin laughed, wild and arrogant.

"Cara, if you hadn't run your mouth back then, Shelagh wouldn't have died! You'll pay for it with your life—take that little demon in your belly down with you!"

When I opened my eyes again, the train had only just pulled out.

Shelagh was rubbing the small of her back and cooing at Melvin.

"Melvin, these hard seats are so awful. Come with me to the sleeper car and see if there's an empty spot, okay?"

I laughed.

They probably had no idea

that the old woman's son was a famous folk hero of the volunteer aid movement,

beloved among the people in life, and even more so in death.

This time around, if the two of you want to die, I won't stand in your way...

1

"All right, all right, I'll take you right now."

Melvin's doting voice pulled me back from my thoughts.

I glanced at the scenery sliding backward past the window,

and it hit me that I really had been reborn.

In my last life, Melvin had taken Shelagh to the sleeper car without hesitation, exactly like this.

An old woman was sitting in lower berth number 8.

The middle berth was empty—

nothing there but a wooden box wrapped in a ceremonial scarf.

Shelagh's eyes lit up, and she jogged over to lie down,

not a trace left of the girl who'd just been clutching her back, moaning about the pain and the exhaustion.

But just as she was about to climb up,

the old woman in the lower berth struggled to her feet and stopped her.

The old woman spoke earnestly, faint traces of tears still visible at the corners of her eyes.

"Young lady, this place... is taken. It's my child's spot..."

In an instant I understood what those words meant.

Inside that square box lay her own flesh and blood.

So I immediately stopped Melvin, who was about to step up and snap at the old woman,

and forced him to take Shelagh back to our car.

The three of us had hard seats together.

Once we were back, I offered to have Melvin and me stand for a while so she could lie down and rest.

But she put on that dying act again,

flat-out refused to sit, and chose to stand the whole way.

The severe altitude sickness, the overexertion, and her refusing to eat

led to disaster—before we even reached the station, Shelagh died on the train.

After it happened, Melvin didn't blame me the way he had before.

Instead, he proposed to me sooner than I'd expected.

I thought this man had finally grown up, matured, learned to tell right from wrong,

so I accepted his proposal without hesitation and married him as planned.

The honeymoon, too, was set in Larkspur, just as he wanted.

But on the way to Larkspur—a ride of more than forty hours—

he bought himself a sleeper berth,

and bought me a standing ticket.

He watched me coldly, a woman in early pregnancy, as I stood for over forty hours.

When the train arrived in Larkspur, my life reached its end.

Staring at my shrunken belly and the blood pooling beneath me,

Melvin doubled over laughing.

"Cara, you killed Shelagh! I hate you! I've waited a whole year for this day! Today is Shelagh's death anniversary. You and that little demon in your belly can be buried with her!"

The wretched memories of my last life sent a shiver through me.

The finger that suddenly appeared before my eyes snapped me back to the present.

"Cara!"

I looked up and met Melvin's eyes, blazing with rage.

He pointed at me with the hand that wore our matching couple's ring, and growled through gritted teeth,

"I'm telling you, quit sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong!"

"And don't guilt-trip us! Shelagh's worn out, and we can't upgrade the ticket—what am I supposed to do! That sleeper berth today, whether you agree or not, I'm going to—"

"I agree."

I cut Melvin off, ice-cold,

and gave him back an equally cold look.

"Go on. Don't let Shelagh tire herself out."

With that, I turned aside at once, clearing a wide path for Melvin and Shelagh toward the sleeper car.

Watching Melvin and Shelagh walk away,

I let the corners of my mouth curl up slightly.

In my last life, I only found out when we reached the station:

that old woman's son had been a truly great folk hero of the volunteer aid movement,

deeply beloved by the local people in his lifetime.

This time the old woman was bringing his ashes "home,"

and it had stirred the whole country.

For Melvin and Shelagh to act like this was no different from courting death.

Since you're both so set on dying, then I'll help you get there...