How many times had it been? Minjoo had forgotten—it had been going on for more than a hundred of times by now that she couldn’t help but lost count.

Every October 29th, she would die on this very cliff—either by the hands of her rebelling knights, her family, her maids, or even because of her own clumsy self. And every time she died, she would return to the day of her twentieth birthday. She tried everything to survive, but she would always end up being driven to the edges of the cliff with whoever with her and die either together or alone, betrayed by the other.

Today did not differ from the rest of the other October 29th. Rebelling knights, her brother was the mastermind, Minjoo was forced to escape into the woods and eventually to the same cliff. She tried to take another path, but for some reason always ended up here, on the cliff.

Even if she decided to stay in the mansion, eventually she would need to escape because she would be pulled along with her escaping maids and loyal knights.

It was all useless.

So Minjoo stretched her arms, a smirk on her lips.

“Go on.” She said, and close her eyes.

But the pain of steelbolts piercing her body never came.

Confused, Minjoo opened her eyes.

Triumphing over the pile of dead knights was a woman dressed in black armor. The woman was not taller than her and did