Chapter 18

A loud bang shattered the lock. Luna White stood at the threshold, her eyes slightly red.

This was the home where she had lived for fourteen years. Weeds choked the yard, though they only reached ankle-height—clearly, her brother Ethan had come by recently to tidy up. The main door was locked tight. Luna pulled a key from around her neck—the one Ethan had given her before he left, urging her to visit when she could. But when had she ever had time? The Whites had squeezed every minute from her.

In her past life, once she left, she never returned.

The key turned, and the door creaked open. Thick dust coated the interior, settling over tables and chairs like a shroud. The sleeping mat on the kang was rolled up, and water stains from leaks marred the ceiling, dried mud streaking the table in patchy patterns.

Half the stove had collapsed, and the pots and pans had been stored away in cabinets. The water jar bore a gaping hole. The entire house felt lifeless.

The small room she had shared with her sister was even worse. Most of the wall had crumbled, leaving only the courtyard wall stubbornly standing.

With a soft creak, she pushed the door open. Cobwebs stretched across the frame, and dust swirled in the air. A rat darted past her feet, making her stumble back.

Jack White smirked. "Mayor, does this look like a place anyone could live? I’m only thinking of Luna’s well-being."

George Clark frowned. The house was indeed in ruins, and Jack’s words held some truth.

"Luna," Jack feigned concern, "come back with me. Forget the rats and spiders—what if there are snakes? I promise your grandmother won’t lay a hand on you again."

Luna shook her head, voice trembling. "Uncle, I won’t go back. I can live without a stove, but this was my parents’ home—my brother’s only home. I can’t let it rot away." She turned to the villagers and bowed deeply. "Please help me. This is all my parents left behind."

Her plea struck a chord. Who among them didn’t have children? Who wouldn’t understand a parent’s love?

Andrew Smith stepped forward. "Neighbors, let us students lead the way. Those in engineering, repairs are nothing to us." He turned to his classmates. "Split up—some fetch carts, others dig clay. We’ll fix the roof and courtyard wall by tonight!"

Mayor Clark rallied the villagers. "Don’t just stand there! Every bit of help counts. Let’s make sure this girl has a place to sleep tonight!"

The crowd sprang into action.

A medic tended to Luna’s wounds. Without anesthesia, the needle piercing her flesh sent cold sweat dripping down her back. She could have healed herself—her supernatural ability could revive the dead, though each use left her shivering as if plunged into ice.

But not today. The entire village needed to see her injuries, her pain. Only then could the Whites’ lies be exposed.

For this home, she would endure anything.