The Greta Who Survived Time

Cara was followed by two unfamiliar faces, who did not look like anyone from Ethan's inner circle.

Cara, as arrogant as ever, pulled out a chair and sat down across from Greta.

In the past, Greta had never argued with her. She had held back only because Ethan said Cara was the daughter of an old acquaintance. He had promised that man on his deathbed that he would look after her.

But from the very first moment Cara saw Greta, she had disliked her.

Ethan once asked Cara to take Greta out to clear her mind. Instead, Cara deliberately abandoned her on a deserted mountaintop during a typhoon.

At that time, Greta had only just arrived in Portwick. She did not even have a phone on her.

Wandering alone in the raging wind, she could not find her way back. The torrential rain soaked her through, and a high fever left her barely conscious.

By the time Ethan found her, she was clinging to her last breath.

The once-hardened man who had taken several bullets to save Greta without making a sound collapsed in an instant, crying like a child.

He had never believed in gods. Yet that night, he fell to his knees and prayed until dawn, asking for nothing but Greta's life.

That time, he wanted nothing more than to kill Cara.

Greta thought he truly hated her after that.

Until the day Ethan went to confront his sworn rival, Andrew Kane, to reclaim the ring Greta had been longing for, only to walk in on Cara kneeling at the man's feet, struck hard across the face.

Ethan's eyes immediately reddened. He did not ask why. He rushed forward and started fighting Andrew.

The fight escalated quickly. Blades came out. To shield Cara behind him, Ethan exposed his back and a sharp weapon slashed into him.

He risked his life to protect her.

In doing so, he forgot Greta completely and how viciously Cara had once hurt her.

Cara looked at Greta, her eyes filled with mockery as she sneered, "Greta, I never thought you would end up like this."

Greta remained calm and let out a soft laugh, "Cara, I suggest you don't provoke me. You can't afford it."

Cara scoffed. "What's so scary about you? You're just trash Ethan picked up from the Red Delta. This is Portwick. What can you do to me? Drag me to that living hell? Besides, do you even dare go back?"

Greta narrowed her eyes dangerously.

She had never liked arguing with people. If a knife could solve something, she would never waste words.

Before Cara could react, Greta moved. In a blink, she was right in front of Cara.

A compact, razor-sharp dagger pressed against the artery in Cara's neck.

Seeing her life in Greta's hands, the men behind Cara froze, daring not make a move.

Cara panicked as well.

The arrogance drained from her face. Even her voice began to shake.

"You—what are you doing?" she stammered. "Don't touch me, or—or Ethan will—"

"He'll what?" Greta cut her off, her voice holding no emotion. "He'll kill me? Before he gets the chance, I'll kill you first. When we meet down there, you can explain it to me properly. How does that sound?"

Cara's face went deathly pale.

She knew exactly who Greta used to be. She had simply grown fearless, relying on Ethan's protection.

Raised in comfort, she could never imagine a woman like Greta—someone forged at the edge of a blade, living each day ready to kill or be killed.

Greta had promised Ethan she would no longer kill at will. But she had endured enough.

The one who provoked first deserved what came next.

She had already decided to leave. It was Cara who insisted on provoking her.

With a flick of her wrist, Greta's blade traced a path to a spot that would kill in one precise strike.

"Don't—!!!"

As Cara screamed herself hoarse, the basement door was kicked open with brutal force.

"What are you doing!? Let go of Cara!"

In the split second Greta was distracted, Ethan raised his gun at her.

She thought he would not pull the trigger.

But the muzzle was aimed straight at her. In his eyes, roiling with rage, she saw nothing but killing intent.

A deafening gunshot exploded inside the enclosed basement.

The sound tore through Greta's ears. It also shattered her final hope and every ounce of sincerity she had left.

The bullet struck her right shoulder.

The dagger fell to the floor. Cara was unharmed.

Greta's right arm streamed with blood. It flowed down her fingers, drop by drop.

Ethan yanked Cara out of Greta's grasp. He looked her over again and again, his face full of panic.

Only after confirming she was completely unhurt did he turn back. Rage consumed him as he roared, "Do you really have to force me to kill you myself?!"

Greta pressed her lips together tightly. Blood loss drained the color from her face until it was paper-white.

Yet she did not move. She did not even frown.

"Ethan," she asked quietly, "are you really going to kill me?"

The words left her mouth. And she realized they were not a question at all. They were an undeniable fact.

Ethan's brows knitted, his eyes still roiling with violence.

Then he noticed Greta's trembling right hand. He saw the blood dripping steadily to the floor. Something jolted in his head.

Agony surged through his mind.

Something buried deep in his memory, something sealed away, seemed to be torn open by the sight of that vivid red.

"Greta... " It was the first time he had called her that since losing his memory.

He clutched his head and collapsed into a crouch. Cara rushed to support him at once.

Greta stood like a statue, utterly still.

She looked at him calmly, her voice colder than ice.

"Ethan," she said, "You once took a bullet for me. And now, you've put one into me. We're even now."