The Second Chance

"Gah—" He gagged. As he forced up what had surged from his chest, a thick, coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

"Damn it. Even dying, my luck is absolute garbage."

Even in the throes of death, Luden spat out a curse. He couldn't help it. His life had been complete shit.

As a child, Luden had been a member of a noble house that wanted for nothing. It wasn't a particularly illustrious family, but he'd been treated well enough, and there had been no one to scold him no matter how recklessly he behaved.

So he'd grown up quite spoiled, though Luden hadn't cared. Wasn't that just what nobles were like?

But that became the problem.

Luden had a younger brother. Unlike him, his brother was talented and diligent, a promising heir everyone had pinned their hopes on.

Because of that, Luden was constantly compared to him, and before he knew it, an inferiority complex had taken root.

So he acted out even more. He lorded his arrogance over his brother and sneered at the household servants.

Looking back, it had been incredibly childish—but at the time, he hadn't realized it.

In the end, his father gave up on him and named his brother the successor.

I should have just kept my mouth shut back then.

It had felt like the world was collapsing. Like everything had been stolen from him.

Worse, the thought that the very father he'd trusted had abandoned him filled him with a sense of betrayal.

Desperate, Luden had fled the household that day like a man running for his life. He'd been too miserable to bear it.

Afterward, he became a mercenary and lived a truly brutal life.

Gambling his life for a single coin was an everyday affair, and a former noble like him could only survive by groveling before others.

His pride as a noble? He'd thrown that away long ago. As if pride or dignity could buy even a cheap loaf of bread in the back alleys.

Only after going a week without eating a thing, on the verge of starving to death, had Luden finally been able to let everything go.

But after clawing his way to survival like that, what awaited him was a miserable death.

"Why, of all things—"

His luck had been terrible.

He'd finished a commission and, planning to finally rest properly, had booked one of the finest inns in the Royal Capital—and of course, that very night, a rebellion broke out.

The splendid, beautiful capital became a blazing chaos within hours, and the laughter on its streets was replaced by screams.

And in the middle of it all, Luden lay dying, crushed beneath the rubble of a collapsed building.

It was bad luck to the point that "accident" was the only word for it.

Who could have imagined that an explosion set off by the rebels would happen to bring down the very inn he was staying in?

He'd been asleep, so he hadn't even managed to evacuate.

The injustice was so overwhelming he couldn't even muster anger.

"Haah. Damn it all."

He was full of regret. If only he hadn't acted like an idiot back then, he wouldn't be dying this absurdly.

If only I could go back.

In his fading consciousness, all Luden could summon was a worthless wish.

His irretrievable regrets of the past flashed by like a lantern show, and at last, death came for him.

And then.

The words never reached Luden, who had already lost consciousness. Even so, the voice continued, spouting meaning after incomprehensible meaning.

The moment the voice finished speaking, the world reversed itself. It was nothing short of a miracle. But no one noticed that miraculous moment—including Luden, who was already dead.

"Mmm."

Luden surrendered himself to the soft sensation beneath his back. Having spent his mercenary years on cheap beds or sleeping rough by the roadside, this comfort was unfamiliar to him.

The last time he'd felt anything like it was in a past so distant even the memory had grown hazy.

It's just like the bed I used to have.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, something felt off, and Luden's eyes snapped open.

"Where am I...?"

It was a luxurious room—beyond comparison to any inn room he'd ever visited—and yet somehow it felt familiar.

Luden frowned.

"My room?"

As the hazy memory came rushing back, he arrived at an unbelievable conclusion.

Decades had passed, but this was unmistakably the room Luden had used as a child. Too much was identical for it to be a mistake.

The red carpet on the floor, the painting of vast open plains hanging on the wall, even the white wooden table and chairs. Everything matched his memory exactly.

Above all, this nostalgia piercing his heart was telling him that nothing before his eyes could possibly be false.

"What the—how is this even—ghk."

As he tried to make sense of the situation, a splitting pain suddenly tore through his head.

When he raised a hand to it, he felt the soft texture of cloth.

"Ugh. My head was fine even when the building crushed me, wasn't it?"

What on earth had happened?

Scowling deeply, Luden rose from the bed and walked over to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the room.

Instinct told him he needed to see with his own eyes what state he was in.

And then—

"Dear God?!"

Shock burst out of him.

Reflected in the mirror was a boy with a bandage wrapped around his head. Dull blonde hair peeked out between the bandages, framing an immature face of maybe twelve or thirteen.

Eyes wide and mouth agape in astonishment, he looked utterly ridiculous.

But Luden recognized that face as his own at a glance, and began to wonder if he was dreaming.

If his memory wasn't wrong, he had definitely been crushed to death beneath that inn, his whole body pulped. He could have sworn that even a legendary saint couldn't have saved him.

So being alive now made no sense—and looking younger made even less.

A dream? Am I dreaming, maybe?

"Uwah?!"

That was when it happened. A blue window suddenly appeared before Luden's eyes.

Startled, he glared at the mysterious pane with round, wary eyes.

"A quest? A reward? What is this talking about?"

Am I seeing things right now? Yeah. That must be it.

In reality, he was still dying, and this was just a dream.

When he woke up again, he'd be pinned under the heavy rubble, and...

Knock, knock.

"Oh my, the young master is awake."

"You are...?"

The one who opened the door and entered was a woman in a maid's uniform.

He didn't remember her well, but once again she felt strangely familiar, and Luden quietly studied her face.

"Thank goodness. I brought your meal—would you like to eat a bit?"

"Uh? Yeah, sure."

Despite his flustered gaze, the maid paid it no mind and set out the food.

Steaming soup and appetizing bread were arranged on the table in no time.

"Hey. What was your name again?"

"Pardon? Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm Erin."

Erin.

Luden turned the name over in his mind for a moment before he could recall it.

She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had definitely been one of the young maids who worked for the family when he was little. But the face before him now looked even younger than his memory of her.

No way.

"What's today's date?"

At the abrupt question, Erin gave him an odd look, but Luden's expression was so grave that she answered obediently.

"Hmm. Today is September 23rd."

"And the year?"

"1782."

For an instant, he doubted his own ears.

The date before he died had definitely been 1802. If Erin wasn't lying, then he had gone back to the past. Twenty years into the past.

Does this even make sense?

Frowning, Luden sank deep into thought.

He didn't even notice Erin, who had been watching him with a curious gaze from the side, quietly slipping out of the room.

His mind was a complete jumble.

Grrrowl.

"Ugh. Even in the middle of all this, my stomach's growling."

Sighing, Luden reached, as if he had no choice, for the food on the table.

"It's good."

He closed his eyes and savored the taste of the bread.

This, too, was a taste from his memory.

And I actually called this stuff bad. I was full back then.

I really had no sense.

With that thought, Luden finished the rest of his meal. The plates were wiped clean in no time.

"Whew. That hit the spot."

Satisfied, Luden sprawled out on the bed.

If he opened his eyes now and found himself crushed under the building again, he felt he could die without regret.

How long had it been since he'd enjoyed luxury like this? He could almost cry—but Luden couldn't bring himself to feel happy.

"It's not a dream."

It was all far too vivid to be one. Everything happening to him right now was, without a doubt, reality.

"And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my death wasn't a dream either."

The pain of his body being crushed, the sensation of slowly dying—those were no dream or illusion either.

Which meant he had truly died and returned twenty years into the past.

"Haha. Does this even make sense?"

Luden laughed hollowly.

It was just too absurd. No one would believe him if he told them.

He didn't even believe it himself, so why would anyone else?

But he had to accept it. Every single detail of his situation was telling him he'd returned to the past.

And then—

"Why, of all times, did I come back to this one?"

As he unwound the bandage around his head, Luden smiled bitterly.

Having accepted that he'd returned to the past, he now remembered the state he'd been in.

If he wasn't mistaken, this was the day after he'd lost a fight with his brother Kevin and passed out.

The very next day after the incident that had left him with a humiliation he would carry for the rest of his life.

Another blue window appeared before the preoccupied Luden's eyes.

Come to think of it, there was one more thing he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠needed to figure out—the identity of this inexplicable blue pane.

"Status Window?"

The moment he spoke the words, new text appeared.

Aside from his name, it was nothing but content whose meaning he couldn't fathom.

Judging by the name "Status Window," it probably displayed Luden's current state.

"A quest. What on earth is this..."

Luden had a feeling that his return to the past and this quest were connected.

It was nothing more than a gut instinct—but returning to the past for no reason at all was simply too implausible, wasn't it?

The regression and the quest were surely related.

"I don't know why it sent me back to the past, but..."

Luden's eyes gleamed.

This was an opportunity. A chance to change the moments he had longed for so desperately at the instant of his death, the moments he had regretted so bitterly.

Nothing mattered more than that.

Luden Kaisar was the eldest son of Count Kaisar's house. A noble's child—and no ordinary one at that, but the heir who would one day succeed to the title and the domain.

The Kaisar earldom wasn't a particularly prestigious family, but honestly, this much qualified as a golden spoon.

His descent into mercenary work in his past life had complex and deep-rooted reasons behind it.

"Well. Honestly speaking, it was nothing more than running away from home."

Luden admitted it cleanly.

At the time, it had been a decision born of youthful recklessness, but after suffering every hardship imaginable in the years that followed, he'd come to realize just how stupid a thing he'd done.

He must have been out of his mind. What else could explain stealing his family's money and running off?

That was one of the sins Luden had committed in his past life.

"He drained money from an already poor domain—of course the domain's fortunes were going to collapse."

It wasn't some far-off future, either. In about ten years, this kingdom would be ravaged by a catastrophic famine.

The causes were prolonged drought and a war of succession, and the situation back then had been truly beyond words.

Farmers with no crops to harvest had to take up swords instead of sickles; women who should have been nursing their babies sold their bodies in brothels.

Parents selling their own children to put one fewer mouth to feed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were everywhere.

Even the nobility couldn't withstand the famine—abandoning their estates with whatever wealth they could carry, or stirring up riots.

There was no way a poor domain like Kaisar's could have come through unscathed.

By the time Luden, now a mercenary, returned home, nothing remained.

He later learned that the domain had been drowning in massive debts to neighboring territories even before the famine began, and hearing that had made his heart plummet.

His own wrongdoing had destroyed his family and his domain.

Of course, even without his flight with the money, overcoming the famine would have been difficult—but at the time, he had wept until his throat went raw with guilt.

"So this time, no matter what it takes, I have to keep the domain from falling."

That alone would be the path to atoning for the sins of his past life.

Several ideas were already coming to him.

The famine was still far off, so he had plenty of time to prepare.

"And as for you—I'll figure out what you really are, too."

He was certain that the secret would reveal itself as he worked through the quests.