Chapter 3
Chapter 3
"Young Master, here..."
"Right, thank you. You may leave. Ensure no one enters this room today."
"Huh?"
"...Why must you make me repeat myself?"
"N-no! It's just... hearing you say 'thank you' feels so strange..."
A sigh escaped him involuntarily.
Sigh... "Fine, it's all my fault."
The reputation among his household would naturally shift as his behavior changed, but each time he became aware of his past mistakes, his conscience prickled sharply.
Moreover—
"Young Master, are you truly alright? Does your head still hurt or..."
Snap.
He nearly crushed the pen he was gripping in frustration.
"Ah! I said I'm fine! Get out now!"
His sharp yell only seemed to brighten Rick's expression slightly.
"Yes, yes, understood. Please rest."
Thud.
-Seeing him yell like that, he seems normal. I'll go attend to other matters.
-Understood!
"Ugh..."
The voices outside the door made him clutch his head again.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on trivial matters.
The immediate priority was—
Huuu...
He had to write down everything he remembered before it faded.
To change the future.
'I must save them! At all costs!'
And to save his family.
While his memories were still vivid, he needed to document the major events of the future.
Among them, one stood out as the most critical.
'The Imperial War.'
A war that would erupt ten years later.
Just as the faltering MacLaine family was stretching its limbs with the emergence of Ronian MacLaine, the youngest aura user—this war would annihilate his younger brother, their family, and even the kingdom itself.
Preventing it had to be his ultimate goal.
'By then, I must cultivate enough power to influence this nation.'
To achieve that, he needed to turn every trial their family would face into an opportunity for growth.
Especially—
'The Territorial War in one year.'
A sudden conflict no one anticipated.
That was the first trial he had to overcome.
Originally, it would leave their family half-destroyed, forcing them into a dark age until Ronian awakened as an aura user.
Though the crisis was just a year away—
'I can do it.'
Knowing the future was the greatest weapon of all.
Fueled by burning hope, Logan feverishly wrote down his thoughts.
Tap.
"Huuu. Done."
Logan exhaled in relief and stood from his seat.
He had recorded all the information in a cipher only he knew at this point—the same cipher the Grandia Liberation Front would use thirty years later.
Even if someone stumbled upon it, they wouldn't understand.
'Just in case...'
What he had written was, quite literally, the future.
Even if these notes were leaked, no one would immediately connect them to him. But over time, suspicions about their origin would grow.
And if word ever spread that he had regressed to the past—
The Nine Great Divine Orders, the most powerful force on the continent—rivaling even the Empire—would turn against him.
He had witnessed firsthand how the fanatical church dealt with heretics and blasphemers.
Once entangled, neither he nor his family would escape unscathed.
Thus, this was a secret he couldn't share, even with those closest to him.
He meticulously reviewed the contents once more, ensuring no errors or risks of exposure remained.
"Good."
Only after confirming everything did he begin his second task.
In some ways, this was just as crucial as preserving future knowledge.
'The Secret Manual—Divine Sword.'
A book embroidered with a golden falcon, which Logan had burned before his regression.
The grandiose secret art known as the Divine Sword was a treasure worthy of its name.
An ancient hero who had slain the evil dragon ruling the world and ushered in the "Age of Humanity."
Later revered as the Sword God, this hero's techniques were incomparable treasures in a world where personal martial prowess dictated social status and power.
When news spread that the Empire had uncovered this manual in the ruins, their leadership rejoiced.
The Grandia Liberation Front sacrificed most of their elite forces to retrieve it.
And its last owner had been Logan himself.
Simply because he was fluent in ancient languages, he was entrusted with the treasure—and relentlessly hunted for it until his death.
'I must write it down before I forget.'
He had memorized the manual to train the independence army's recruits.
If the manual's contents were true, mastering it would render even the Empire's aura masters and grand mages insignificant.
'It's possible. Entirely.'
Before his regression, he had been far too old to start anew, and his innate talent had been lacking.
But now was different.
He was young, not yet an adult.
And—
Huum.
A golden energy stirred in response to his will, flowing through his body.
The power of life—Force.
A strength he could only dream of at this point in his past life now amplified his hopes.
Clench.
The vigor of youth and his experience wielding Force. If these harmonized, even his mediocre talent might suffice to master this ancient art.
No—he would master it.
'Ronian. This time, I won't let you suffer alone. Never.'
The overwhelming anticipation of a changed future set his heart racing.
With the most critical tasks organized, his goal crystallized.
'What demands my immediate attention is clear.'
The Territorial War in one year.
First, he had to survive that crisis.
'I can do it. Now, the first step is...'
Logan burned with passion, drafting plans as if the war could begin any moment.
But—
Ten hours later.
Thud.
After racking his brain, the conclusion was undeniable.
"There's nothing I can do..."
Logan slumped onto the desk, his face haggard from staying up all night.
What did it take to win the Territorial War? The answer was simple.
Strengthening their military power.
And what was needed for that?
"Reinforcing knights and soldiers, developing and enhancing weapons."
A few ideas came to mind, but all of them—
"Money. I need money."
This wasn't just about his poor reputation.
Even if his standing were impeccable and he were the undisputed heir, nothing would change.
"...We were the kingdom's most infamous beggar family. Damn it."
Their house itself had no money.
He needed a way to earn money—fast, within a short timeframe.
But such a convenient method—
"Doesn't exist..."
Thud. Thud.
No matter how much he banged his head on the desk, nothing came to mind.
Just last night, he had been elated by newfound hope.
Now, he wanted to throttle his past self.
'If only I'd regressed five—no, even three years earlier...'
Frustration drove him to wish for even greater miracles, despite already experiencing one.
But he couldn't keep escaping reality.
'No choice. I'll have to squeeze every resource I have.'
If he focused not on winning the war but preserving their forces and surviving, it might be possible.
'Right. It can't be helped. First, I'll recover my past life's skills and improve my reputation. Personal matters can wait until after that incident three months from now... Wait, huh?'
A sudden thought flashed through his mind.
'Oh-ho. Now that I think about it, back then...'
A way to make a fortune had just occurred to him.
'Three months from now...'
But to realize this idea, there was something he had to do first.
"The family head? You want to seek him out? On purpose?"
"Yes."
"Why?!"
"There's something I need his permission for."
He had expected it, but Rick's stunned expression reminded him just how strained his relationship with his father had been at this time.
But now, it was unavoidable.
'Father...'
Logan took a deep breath as he stepped out of his room, recalling memories from his past life.
In his childhood, his father had been affectionate.
As he grew older, stricter.
And by the time Logan had ruined himself, his father had turned cold.
-You are no longer my child.
Even before those words were spoken, his father had given up on him.
As proof, when Logan had collapsed from a head injury during the official sparring match, his father hadn't even visited.
A delinquent son and a cold father.
The vicious cycle of emotions had continued until his exile.
Of course, in his past life, he had spent years resenting his father after being cast out.
Only after realizing his own mistakes and hearing of his father's final moments did he regret not seeking forgiveness sooner.
That regret had lingered for over twenty years.
Moreover—
-How much must it have pained the parents who cast out their child?
Words from an old mercenary during his hesitant days about returning home had lodged in his heart, deepening his guilt.
Meeting such a father again couldn't help but make him nervous—his hands trembled faintly.
Guilt?
Or fear?
Or anticipation?
Even Logan couldn't precisely define his emotions now.
Huuu.
He inhaled deeply, forcing a smile.
Then, he strode forward confidently.
But—
"Ah! M-my apologies! P-please forgive me, Young Master!"
"..."
He had to smile.
"Sp-spare me, Young Master!"
Keep smiling...
"I-I was wrong! Please calm your anger!"
...His hands trembled for a slightly different reason now.
Sigh.
"Damn it..."
The servants' exaggerated reactions only heightened his tension.
But this was all his own doing.
The verbal abuse and violence he had unleashed during this period.
Their cumulative result was the current situation.
His conscience stung sharply, but this could be changed gradually.
Given time, he could show them his transformed self.
It certainly wasn't because his smile felt awkward.
...It couldn't be.
Steadying his breathing as he walked, he soon found himself before his father's office.
Knock knock.
"Father, it's Logan."
"...Logan? Hmm, enter."
Creak.
As he opened the door and stepped inside, a towering middle-aged man with red hair and fierce eyes looked up from the documents on his desk by the window.
Red hair, crimson eyes. A stern gaze and tightly pressed lips—though larger in stature, the resemblance to Logan was unmistakable.
The moment their eyes met—
Logan felt his heart tremble.
'Father...'
How much had he resented this face?
How much regret had this man caused him?
And how much...
Had he missed him?
'I'm sorry. Truly...'
There was so much he wanted to ask.
Had he, this worthless son, ever been loved?
Had it pained him to cast him out?
And... had he missed him too?
All the unspoken words and tangled emotions from his past life surged within him.
But he forcibly suppressed the storm in his chest.
This wasn't like the time with his younger brother, where he could pour out everything he had kept locked away as a dream.
Now, he had to show his changed self first.
Steadying his wavering gaze, Logan strode confidently into the room.
"...You seem more intact than I expected. Well, what brings you?"
Unlike Logan's mixed emotions of longing and regret, his father's tone was icy from the outset.
He had expected as much. What mattered was what came next.
"...I wish to enter the ancestral mountain for secluded training. I've come to seek your permission."
Logan answered firmly, having prepared himself.
Before the incident three months from now, restoring his past life's skills was paramount.
In an era where personal martial prowess dictated status and authority, this was the minimum requirement to overturn his reputation and lend weight to his words in the coming events.
Naturally, the response wasn't favorable.
"Secluded training? You?"
"Yes."
His father's expression was a mix of disbelief and bewilderment.
"Hmm. Are you running away after losing to your brother?"
"I've realized how lacking my efforts have been. Though late, I wish to correct myself now."
"Was it just effort you lacked?... You still don't seem to have come to your senses."
Despite Logan's determined delivery, his father's tone held not an ounce of faith, his expression frosty.
"...I've also recognized that my past behavior was problematic."
"I've heard that many times before."
"I refused to acknowledge my shortcomings and took my frustrations out on others. I was foolish and immature. During this training, I hope to rectify that immaturity as well."
"...Hmm."
Perhaps the sincerity in his words struck a chord, as his father's expression finally shifted slightly.
"...This doesn't sound like another hollow excuse."
"I won't disappoint you again."
"You're aware you've disappointed me all this time?"
"..."
"Not long ago, you'd only pay lip service to repentance while your eyes screamed injustice."
What could he possibly say to that?
Logan simply bowed his head in silence.
"...How long do you plan to stay?"
"I'm thinking about three months."
"Is that so? Do you think such a short time will let you catch up to Ronian?"
"My goal isn't to surpass Ronian. I merely wish to do my best in this brief period. If I still fall short, I'll accept it humbly."
His immediate reply seemed to surprise his father, who studied him silently before nodding slowly.
"...You do seem somewhat changed. Good. You should change. Very well. Permission granted."
"Thank you."
After bowing respectfully, Logan turned to leave—but a hesitant voice stopped him.
"...It's still spring. The hermitage will be cold for sleeping. Bundle up."
The unexpected warmth made Logan flinch. He could only nod in response.
But as he stepped out, his footsteps felt lighter than he realized.