The wagon rattled like it was falling apart.
Every time the wheels slammed into a rock, the whole thing jerked. The wood creaked, the bags bounced, and Rynan felt like his brain was about to shake out of his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping maybe—just maybe—he'd fall asleep.
That hope died in five seconds.
,Why is this road made of pure suffering?, he groaned in his head, shifting in place for the tenth time. ,I swear it's louder than a construction site...,
He opened one eye.
Still in the wagon.
Still on the road.
Still surrounded by the sound of wheels slamming against rocks like someone was hammering metal beside his ears.
In his past life, he used to sit in cars—clean seats, smooth roads, barely any noise. Just air conditioning and the occasional music. But now? The only music he got was the violent rattling of wood and the occasional grunt from the horses.
,Kill me..., he whined mentally, letting his head fall back against the pile of sacks behind him. A dramatic flop. Deserved.
His fingers clung to the edge of the wagon as another rock sent the entire thing bouncing. His whole body shook, and his teeth nearly clacked together.
"This is illegal," he mumbled under his breath, too low for anyone to hear. Not that they would've cared. Everyone else seemed completely fine. His mom, sitting up front, looked peaceful. Like they were on a relaxing picnic ride or something.
He peeked toward the back—the tailboard. The open end of the wagon where he could see the dirt path trailing behind them. Bumpy. Uneven. Covered in just enough rocks to be annoying but not enough to be a reason to stop.
It was like the road was designed by someone who hated children.
Especially dramatic ones.
"Mom..." he called out, voice dry and scratchy. He sounded like he hadn't had water in three days. Which was a lie. He drank an hour ago. But suffering made everything feel worse. "Ar weh almosht t-ther...?"
Linia's voice floated back, soft and sweet.
"We're almost there, sweetie. Just thirty more minutes."
Thirty.
More.
Minutes.
Rynan blinked. Then stared up at plain, white wagon-bonnet like he was waiting for it to strike him down.
,THIRTY!?, he screamed in his head, arms dropping to his sides like a broken doll. ,I'm gonna die before we get there. My bones will turn to dust. Someone write this in my will—death by rocky road...,
He let out a slow, miserable sigh. The kind that came from the bottom of the soul. His head tilted to the side, mouth slightly open, eyes dull. His spirit was gone. All that remained was the husk of a tired child.
Every few seconds, the wagon would bounce again. His body jiggled with it like he was trapped in a human-sized maraca.
At one point, a pebble hit the bottom of the wagon loud enough to make a thunk. He flinched like he'd been shot.
"This is the worst day of my life," he whispered, even though he knew he'd said the same thing yesterday. And the day before that.
Life as a child in a fantasy world? Cool on paper. Miserable in practice.
He turned on his side, trying to find the one spot in the wagon that didn't feel like lying on uneven bricks. No luck.
"Maybe if I pass out, I'll wake up when we arrive," he mumbled to himself. "Or not wake up at all. Either works."
But he didn't pass out.
Instead, he just lay there, eyes open, watching the plain wagon-bonnet that covered the sky. Carefree. Silent.
__________________𖤍____________________
"I swear, if this keeps going, I'm gonna die..."
Rynan let out a sigh in his head, eyes closed, head tilted up, trying to focus—on anything—just to fall asleep.
Maybe if he slipped into deep thought, he could ignore the noise, the shaking, the headache forming behind his eyes.
But no matter how hard he tried, sleep never came.
Not even close.
His brain was fully awake, and unfortunately, fully dramatic.
,So... I'm really gonna have to endure this… for thirty whole minutes!?, he screamed inside his head. ,That's like... forever in wagon time!,
He wanted to throw a tantrum. Just curl up, kick the bags, and scream. Not that it would help, but it would've made him feel better.
Eventually, he gave up fighting it and just slumped back down. His thoughts quieted. Not because he found peace, but because he'd accepted the suffering. Like a prisoner with no escape.
He turned his head to the side, eyes open, watching the scenery pass by through the open tailboard. The trees swayed gently in the breeze. The sky was clear. Peaceful.
Completely opposite to what he felt.
"Is the motion sickness finally kicking in, son?" Forle called out from across the wagon, a playful grin on his face.
Rynan groaned inside. ,My dad… always so carefree…,
He rolled over and gave his dad a weak nod. "Ye..."
He paused. "Me head hurt..."
The words came out slow and scratchy—like a frog that hadn't had water in a week.
"Hah!" Forle burst out laughing, pointing at his miserable son. "Don't worry, it'll wear off soon!"
He leaned back proudly, puffing his chest. "Become like me! Fearless and brave!"
Rynan stared at him blankly.
,How is motion sickness related to being brave!? That doesn't even make sense!, he shouted in his head, more confused than ever.
"Pfft!"
Linia, sitting up front, could barely hold her laughter. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, but it didn't help—seconds later, she burst out laughing. It wasn't loud or mocking. Just pure, lighthearted laughter, the kind that made you smile without realizing.
Forle froze.
His eyes locked onto his wife. Brain empty. Soul lifted. Completely stunned by how cute she looked when she laughed.
,Cute..., his mind whispered. And nothing else.
Rynan looked at his dad.
Looked at his mom.
Back at his dad.
He reached over and gently grabbed Forle's shoulder, giving him a thumbs-up with all the energy he could manage.
"Dad," he whispered, voice full of understanding. ,I finally get why you fell in love with Mom…, He continued, in his thoughts.
He smiled.
A real, soft smile.
Rynan, the once-broken soldier of a twisted past life, who had never felt love—not truly—was now surrounded by something warm. Something simple. A family.
And in that moment, he didn't feel like a reincarnated soldier anymore.
He just felt like a kid.
,Please don't take this life away from me... God., he thought, as the wagon rolled along. They were laughing, teasing, smiling.
For the first time in a long time, everything felt perfect.
Then it happened.
The air changed.
Suddenly—violently—the mana in the air thickened. Heavy. Suffocating. It was like breathing in smoke, thick and unnatural. Everything stopped.
"GAAGH!"
Forle gasped, his body jerking forward as he coughed up blood. His hand gripped his chest, veins bulging.
The wagon skidded to a stop.
The horses collapsed.
The coachman slumped over, unconscious.
"Kha…" Rynan groaned, falling hard against the wooden floor. His limbs felt weak. His vision blurred.
He turned his head and saw Linia, still sitting upright... but motionless. Unconscious.
His heart pounded. Panic flared.
,W-What the heck is happening...?!, he screamed in his thoughts, breath shallow, fear taking over.
Then—he saw it.
A figure.
Standing in the road up ahead.
Tall. Covered in a dark cloak, face hidden.