Agnes's eyes were lifeless as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. She couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by what she saw. She could hardly recognize herself compared to who she used to be—the poor, unfashionable Agnes who was once looked down upon by the Acostas.
The woman in the mirror wore silk and pearls, but the ghost of the girl in simple hand-me-downs still flickered in the depths of her pupils. Every expensive cream on her vanity couldn't mask the invisible scars of the labor she had endured for years.
She had truly changed. She was no longer the old Agnes who was incapable of fighting for herself. Now, she lived in a mansion and owned a famous island destination. Everyone knew her as one of the wealthiest and most respected women around. Yet, the silence of the large rooms often felt like a heavy shroud. Power was a shield, but it was also a lonely fortress.
"Ma'am, your bathwater is ready," said a woman who had just stepped out of the bathroom.
"Thank you, Nika, but you didn't have to do that. I can manage," Agnes replied with a gentle smile as she began preparing her clothes. She felt a pang of guilt every time someone waited on her; the memory of her own aching back and swollen knees from years of service was still too fresh.
Even though everything about her had changed, even though she was now rich and looked up to by others—her humble nature remained. She had no desire to be like the Acosta family, who abused those who couldn't stand up for their own rights. She wanted her wealth to be a bridge, not a wall. To her, every person in her employ was a human soul, not just a tool for convenience.
"Ma'am Agnes, I am your maid, and I am simply doing my duty."
"You're not just a maid, but thank you, Nika. Go on, have breakfast with the others."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Agnes waited for the young woman to leave before entering the bathroom with the glass doors. She never actually dreamed of owning a mansion. A simple, small house would have been enough for her. A house with a thatched roof, the smell of salt in the air, and the sound of a familiar voice humming a song of the sea. But before she and Islaw were separated, he told her to live happily and comfortably so that her dignity would never be trampled upon again.
But what was the point of all this wealth if nothing made her happy? Ever since she and Islaw were parted, the spark in her life had vanished. It felt as though she only smiled for other people, never for herself. No matter how hard she tried to cheer herself up, nothing worked. The expensive paintings on her walls were colorless compared to the memories of a simple sunset spent on the sand with him.
Because Islaw was her only happiness—he and their child. Every breath she took was a quiet prayer for their reunion, a desperate hope that the ocean would one day return what it had taken.
After undressing, she slowly dipped her feet into the marble bathtub and sat down. Even from the deep tub, she had a clear view of the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. She had specifically designed the room with glass so she could freely gaze at the beautiful scenery outside.
She watched the waves intently, as if searching for a familiar ripple or a glimpse of scales beneath the blue expanse. The water was her greatest comfort and her most painful reminder.
After soaking and rinsing off, Agnes went down to the first floor of the mansion wearing a white suit for her meeting with her personal lawyer. Now that she had power, it was only right to use it correctly—to use it for the good of others.
The white fabric felt like armor; she was stepping into a battlefield where the weapons were signatures and legal titles.
"Attorney Samuel."
"Lady Agnes." He respectfully offered his hand, which she accepted graciously.
"Have a seat. Mrs. Ester, please bring us two cups of coffee," she requested politely from one of the household staff.
"Right away, Ma'am Agnes."
"So? Will we get it, Attorney?" she asked immediately once they were seated on the sofa.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't just a business transaction; it was a reclamation of her soul.
Even though she didn't explicitly state what she was referring to, she was certain he knew. She had been preparing for this for months, and Attorney Samuel was there to help and guide her through every decision and action.
She couldn't wait to finally remove those people from the island where she grew up. Their decades of rule were enough, especially since they did nothing but act with cruelty and abuse. She would personally find a way for the oppressed to fight for their rights. She wanted to tear down the legacy of fear they had built and plant seeds of justice in its place.
"Yes, we will. Even if the Acostas refuse, there is nothing they can do."
"They are too broke and miserable to fight for the island anymore," she added. There was no pity in her voice, only the cold satisfaction of seeing the scales of justice finally balance out.
"Yes, Lady Agnes. Another reason is that their legal cases are piling up, so they surely have no claim left on the island. Their wealth will be gone before they can even set foot on it again. I'll make sure they rot in jail."
"Where they belong," she replied instantly.
"I never thought their dirty secrets would be exposed to the public by the very people they considered their friends," she said with a chuckle, shaking her head as she sipped her hot coffee.
It was poetic justice—the very people the Acostas had stepped on to climb were now the ones pulling them down into the dirt.
"Rich against rich, powerful against powerful. They will be the ones to bring each other down."
"You're right, Attorney."
She stood up slowly after setting down her cup.
"I want that island to be mine, and I will deport all of the Acostas' accomplices. They deserve the karma coming to them; I don't want those kinds of people staying on the island any longer." Agnes said firmly. The island needed to be cleansed, purged of the rot that had infected it for generations.
"Can you grant me the right to be the owner of the island? Attorney, I know you can. You can get me the title." She turned to face him.
"Yes, I can. The island will be yours."
She smiled—a smile of victory. But beneath the smile was a hollow ache; she had the island, but she still didn't have the man who made it feel like home.
It was the first step in a long-awaited plan to reclaim her life and the land that had been stolen by greed.
But victory, she realized, came with a heavy price of memories. To truly move forward, she had to face the ghosts of her past. She had to return to the place where her heart was both found and broken.
The island finally came into view—not as the paradise she remembered, but as a shadow of its former self. The air felt stagnant, heavy with the weight of years of neglect and hidden sins.
A few days later, the roar of engine blades replaced the silence of her office. Agnes sat inside her private helicopter, her knuckles white as she gripped the armrests. As the aircraft soared over the familiar turquoise waters, the vastness of the ocean reminded her of everything she had lost. The bird's-eye view showed her the beauty of the reefs, but she only saw the depths where Islaw had been forced to disappear.
Agnes let out a deep breath as the helicopter finally touched down. It took several minutes before she found the courage to step out. The moment her soles hit the ground, she felt her body grow weak. If her bodyguards hadn't supported her, she might have collapsed right where she stood. The very soil felt like it was vibrating with the cries of the people who had suffered here.
Once she composed herself, she slowly took off her shades and handed them to Nika. She couldn't stop her eyes from wandering. Every view—behind, in front, to her left, and to her right—seemed to shatter her already broken heart even more.
The beauty of the island is gone. The vibrant colors of her childhood had been replaced by the gray of decay.
They were at the highest point of the island, in the plaza that used to be filled with wealthy tourists. Now, dirty children just sat huddled on the ground. The surroundings were littered with trash, and many buildings were in ruins. The once-grand mansion of the Acostas looked dilapidated. Everything appeared broken and aged.
It was a graveyard of ambition.
"W-what happened to the island? W-why is it like this?" she asked the Attorney, her voice trembling with weakness.
"The island became a nest of evil people. The crimes here lasted for years, and since the island is private, word didn't reach the public or the law immediately. Even foreigners paid a lot to sail out and throw dynamite. This is how the Acostas and their associates made their money."
"H-how did this happen? W-why like this? Even the town, the plaza, even the market?" She could barely understand what she was seeing as she scanned the area. The greed she knew existed had been far more destructive than she ever imagined.
"It became a storehouse for guns, gas, dynamite, and other explosives."
"T-this can't be happening. W-what about the people living here on the island? Their houses, their livelihoods? Are they alright?"
"Yes, they are. All the island's residents were moved down below."
Upon hearing this, she immediately looked toward the sloping path leading to the sea, where she used to live—by the shore. So, no one lived in the town anymore; they had all stayed by the beach. The Acosta family truly were animals with blackened souls. They had treated the island like a lemon to be squeezed dry, then tossed the rind aside.
"Bring me to them," she said, referring to the Acostas, and turned away. The time for mourning the island was over, the time for confrontation had arrived.
In her intense rage, she barely realized how she reached the precinct where the family she loathed was currently detained. Everything happened so fast; now, she was seated across from the three people who had ruined her life and separated her from Islaw. The air in the interrogation room was thick with the smell of stale coffee and unwashed desperation.
"So it's true. You have certainly ascended the social ladder, Agnes," Mr. Morris began. His voice was still oily, trying to maintain a dignity he no longer possessed.
"And you own the island," Madame Beattrice added. Her eyes were narrowed, still looking for a way to regain control.
Despite everything, the old woman still held a sense of dignity.
"You're right. And I will not run the island the way you did. People like you should never have their footsteps followed," she said, her fists clenched in tearful rage.
She wanted them to feel the weight of their failures, to see the monster they had created in her.
"Wow, did you just come here to show off your wealth? To brag that you are now the powerful one? Didn't you just get all that from Islaw's tears?" Brianna smirked, shaking her head in deep disgust. Her jealousy was a living thing, squirming behind her eyes even in handcuffs.
"He gave it to me. Because he loves me, he gave me the pearls to turn the situation around."
"Turn it around, my ass!" Brianna barked.
"Look at our situation now, Brianna. You're the one in the gutter now. You and your family." Agnes savored the word 'gutter.' It was where they had tried to keep her for a lifetime.
"Just wait, I'll put you back in the mud where you belong!"
"Go ahead, Brianna. I'll be waiting—if you and your family ever even get out of here." Agnes turned her gaze back to the parents. They were pathetic now, shriveled versions of the titans she once feared.
She stood up from her seat, fueled by anger.
"You have no wealth, not even a single coin. How can you reverse your bad luck when you yourselves are the bad luck? Just accept that this is the result of your evil deeds. I only hope you think of repenting while you're inside that cell." She turned to leave, but Brianna angrily grabbed her hand.
"Brianna!" even her parents were shocked by their daughter's action.
Agnes's companions immediately went on alert.
"Brianna Acosta, be careful with your actions. Your case could get worse." Attorney Samuel warned.
"No, Attorney. I'll let this pass because, somehow, I still have pity for them. I don't want them to sink any deeper into their miserable lives. They might never make it out of jail."
"You're so arrogant. When you think about it, you're just a user too! My family used you, and now you've used that fishy husband of yours to get rich and get revenge on us!"
"In other words, you're just as heartless," Brianna added, which Agnes immediately countered.
"I loved Islaw, I love him, and I will love him until the very end. Whatever I have achieved now is because of our love for each other. No one used anyone. I am not like you. And I will never, ever be like any of you."
She spoke the truth with a conviction that made the room grow still. Her love was the one thing they could never touch, never steal, and never understand.
"How dare you—" Brianna attempted to raise a hand against her, but Agnes quickly blocked it and gave her a gift she would never forget.
A powerful, double-slap. The sound cracked through the room, a sharp punctuation to years of silence.
"Brianna!" The parents rushed to their daughter, but Agnes ignored them.
"H-how could you?!" the young woman cried, clutching her cheek.
"Everything has changed, I have a new life. I am no longer the Agnes you knew, the one who was your slave. So know your place, Brianna." Agnes felt a surge of cold fire in her veins. She was finally standing on top of the mountain.
"The nerve! After we took care of you?! This is how you repay us?!" Madame Beattrice shouted in outrage.
"What exactly should I thank your family for? Should I thank you because you're the reason I lost my parents and why you enslaved me at a young age instead of letting me study? Should I be grateful for the years you starved and hurt me? Should I thank you for the times you humiliated and tortured me?!" Agnes couldn't hold it back anymore, the a began to stream down her face. Each word was a bullet, hitting the target of their hypocrisy.
Her voice cracked and her face flushed with fury.
"And you, Brianna, every time you shoved my face into dirty water, every time you forced me to eat things I shouldn't, every time you laid a hand on me—should I thank you for that? When Erick was all I had, you took him from me. Even Islaw, you didn't spare him." She stared Brianna straight in the eye. The trauma of a thousand days poured out of her, washing away the last of her fear.
"Should I say thank you?" she asked, but not one of them could answer.
The silence was her final victory.
"I guess you already know the answer," she muttered and walked away.
She never wanted to see them again.
Leaving the precinct felt like shedding a heavy, suffocating skin. She walked out into the open air, leaving the Acostas to the silence of their cells, determined that those were the last words they would ever exchange. She never wanted to see them again.
The sun felt warmer on her face, the air cleaner, as if the world itself was exhaling.
But leaving the people behind didn't mean the memories stayed with them. To truly reclaim the island, she had to reclaim the very house that had been her prison for so many years. She needed to walk through those halls not as a servant, but as the owner. She needed to overwrite the echoes of her cries with the sound of her own confident footsteps.
The drive back to the estate was silent. When she arrived, the grand doors—once so intimidating—now opened at her command. She dismissed her staff, needing to face the spirits of the house in solitude. The shadows of the past still lingered in the corners, but they no longer had teeth.
Agnes bit her lower lip as she walked alone through the former mansion of the Acostas. She stopped at the second-floor lounge, where she remembered how much she used to love watching the view outside through the glass window. She also remembered, with painful clarity, how Brianna used to shove her face into dirty water. The ghost of that humiliation made her throat tighten, but she forced herself to breathe through it.
All the painful and bitter memories of the past suddenly came rushing back. She still remembered how Brianna would force a slipper into her mouth, and how she would be dragged across the floor by her hair. After everything she had endured, she never wanted to look back again.
"That will never happen again." The words were a vow, whispered to the empty air but etched into her soul.
She placed a hand against the large window. It was night, and the only things visible were the flickering lights from the small houses in the town below. She suddenly remembered the first time she saw a mermaid—it was Islaw's sister, whom she had once been jealous of. The memory made her let out a soft laugh. That was before she knew that Islaw even had a sister. Even in the midst of her pain, there were fragments of wonder that the Acostas couldn't destroy.
"Islaw, I'm thinking of you again," she whispered, shaking her head as she touched the bracelet she was wearing.
"I'm still wearing this."
"And no matter how many times I am offered expensive jewelry, I will choose this over and over again."
She couldn't help but press the bracelet against her lips. It tasted of hope and the sea.
"Islaw, where are you? So many years have passed since I was last with you. I miss you so much, my Islaw," she whispered softly to the bracelet. The vastness of the ocean outside seemed to mock her, keeping its secrets behind the dark waves.
Will it always be like this?
A girl waiting by the window for a miracle to swim home.