3 A Priceless Invitation

"Giddyup!"

A whip lashed out at the crisp air, and the marching of two horses rumbled the hard flooring.

"The merchant's carriage is running," Mira's mind began to run. "It's heading to the city. That dream, no, that revelation..."

Mira hastily shuffled into her pocket with one hand, and a soft felt paper with embellished gold at its seams came out. For a moment, she gazed at it with a sense of hollowness.

A life changed overnight, Mira gained her past memories and the wisdom that came with it. She became both the 17-year-old Mira and the 27-year-old Kim Young-hee in a harmonious transition—or was it?

The blowing wind snapped her out of the reflective trance. She focused on the strange envelope, and she swiped underneath the paper's flap to pull it open.

The letter was extravagant. The thin, velvety sheet carried a chamomile scent and had decorated golden leaves along its sides. The words bled with a glittering silver ink mixed with fluorescent colors, achieving a holographic effect.

"Dear Mira Chapar,

By the Mercy of God, you have been awarded the title of a Chosen One for the upcoming True Half game. We highly encourage you to participate in this game to find your soulmate and earn a Holy Blessing.

For identification purposes, please present this envelope to a Church Ambassador. They will lead you to the game.

Postscript: The following hint is given to all Chosen Ones: your True Half is your best friend."

There was no indicated sender. A life-like portrait of Mira was etched into the bottom right corner of the paper. It listed her birthday, sex, and age right below it.

"What a hellhole I've got myself into," Mira said grimly as she hashed the letter back into the envelope. "Should I just die?"

After all, Mira had no obligation nor will to live. Her past life was of the most difficult, while her current life seemed to be going on the same track. Mira wouldn't continue living if she knew it was going to get even harder because of some damned god.

"However…"

He, the Syren God, purposefully picked her. The wording in the invitational letter was different from the words he called her that night: Precious One. That meant she was valuable to him, in some way or another, and he wanted to keep her alive.

And Mira would have a reason to cling onto life that would lead her to join the game. She did not know what this motivation was now, but if it was what she thinks it is…

A pang of pain stroked her head. Mira had to remember what else happened that night.

There were three memories, among others, that showed up in Mira's revelation first: the boy's ruined sandcastle, the hand-holding, and the…

There was a man and woman arguing in the same apartment as the hand-holding memory. Mira couldn't remember the contents of the argument, nor could she remember how she died for that matter.

In fact, she couldn't remember some parts of her current memories, as if they were empty blotches in linear memory lanes. Mira remembered the Syren God's words said again that half of her memories had been stolen by that contract.

"I don't know whether this is all some sick show," Mira thought. "Some sort of play from the Syren God, but I'll see for myself. If… Young-joon is there."

Mira looked down at her fingers, and they were clean with little calluses from farming. In her past life, Mira's hands were gruesome to look at because of all the bruises and wounds. Somehow, it felt like possessing a normal girl's body.

"Halt this transportation! This vehicle will be searched by the 5th Knight Order of the Church," a voice shouted.

Instinctively, Mira got up in a defensive stance, grabbing a ceramic jewelry box to use as a weapon. She pushed herself to the very back of the wagon before its cotton duck cloth fiercely strung open, and it revealed the brittle sunlight into the enclosed space.

Mira flinched, and she squinted to adjust to the light as tiny goosebumps raised all over her skin.

"Is this her?" Another voice asked.

"Correct appearance and location, sir."

Her eyes sharpened at the invaders, surveying them for their threat level and an escape route. The nostalgic feeling of adrenaline pumped in her blood, and it reminded Mira of her past life's spy missions.

Silver shining on their steel armor, they were three large men who stood upright and noble. The one on the left had a green star on his chest, symbolizing his status as a Knight Commander.

There were at least five other knights with him, Mira reckoned from the sounds outside. She could hear the village merchant being escorted a few meters away from the wagon by other knights.

"Are you knights?" She asked innocently.

Almost on queue, the one in the middle took off the helmet that covered his face. His hair flamboyantly flipped to its side, and his thick eyebrows curved downwards in a relaxed motion.

"Most of us; I'm sure you recognize me," he said.

Mira's eyes glinted at his presence. Recognizable, yes. Golden hair and sapphire eyes, everyone would know only the Kimora royalty lineage carried these traits.

"What does Your Highness want from this farmer girl?" Mira spoke calmly.

"You have something to belong to us." The prince plastered on a smile. "It's a valuable letter. We ask that you kindly return it, so we can give it to the rightful owner."

The knights crowded the exit with their bulky size, not moving an inch. The message was clear: give us the letter, and we will let you go. Mira studied them suspiciously.

"May I ask what the letter looks like? I'm not quite sure if I've ever seen any envelopes in this wagon," Mira asked.

The prince's face fell into an unjust frown. He pulled a finger to his lips, saying, "It's made of pure gold, so I'm sure you have reasonable ambitions to sell it as you may have a sick relative. However, I can swear on my knights' lives that you will be reimbursed properly, much more than what you can get for the letter."

"Your Highness, your proposal is extremely attractive. I do have a sick mother like you have foreseen with incredible intellect, and if only I had the letter that you are asking of me, I would be so happy to take you up on that offer," Mira lied through her teeth.

Continuing his fake smile, the prince stepped inside the wagon with an ominous hand on his sword. "A commoner's mood is quite fickle, if you ask me."

He wrenched out his sword from its steel scabbard, its length slowly extending upwards to Mira's face. Small drops of blood trickled down her fair skin, sweat mixing in the red liquid as the sword steadied itself against her neck.

Why was he so assured of himself?

"Happy yet?" He cocked an eyebrow, pointing the sword at a sharper angle to make Mira bleed further. The prince seemed to be enjoying torturing his citizen.

"Is it all good back there?" The village merchant shouted.

"Five minutes, sir, and you'll be well on your way," the Knight Commander replied.

"These pesky inspections; what could be taking so long?!"

Suddenly, Mira stepped backward, twisting the ceramic box in her hand, and dropped to her knees. Holding the lid behind her back, her fingers slipped the box in front of the knights to cover the sounds of the crashing lid.

"I do not know what Your Highness is looking for, but I ask you to spare my life," Mira whimpered. The ceramic shards slashed into her skin, and she held onto a few pieces in her right hand.

Jolted by the shattered ceramics, the two knights readily placed a hand on their swords before the prince swayed them to keep calm. He sighed at the pitiful farmer girl begging on her knees, and he pulled a finger to his lips again—thinking.

"Then, strip."