In my first life, my name was not Baek Soha.
I was not born with this name. I was born with another one — a given name from a family that no longer exists in any form I could find, in a province far enough from the capital that its collapse left no trace in the main historical record. I discovered this in my third life, when I had enough resources and enough settled time to actually investigate the pattern of my deaths instead of simply surviving them. What I found was not comforting, but it was clarifying: the name I had been born with in my first life had been associated with a minor land dispute, a forgotten court petition, and a death attributed to fever that was, I was fairly certain, not fever.
In this life, I was Baek Soha. The name had come with the marriage registration, the household seal, and the careful administrative identity of a woman who had existed on paper for long enough that no one questioned the paper anymore.
