Dinner had ended hours ago, but the echoes of laughter and clattering cutlery still seemed to linger in the grand hall. King Edward's booming laugh reverberated through the space as Father, red-faced and chest puffed, boasted over a victory that only existed in his imagination. Mother, serene as ever, observed silently, her gentle smile a quiet storm compared to Father's theatrics. Princess Tesselia, however, remained calm, her posture perfect, her emerald eyes reflecting curiosity and something subtler—recognition, perhaps even a measure of trust that had taken root over a single evening.
And I… I felt like my brain was caught in a whirlwind.
I had passed. I had actually passed.
Six months of pleading, half a year of refusals, endless "no"s… and now… permission.
I should have felt euphoria. Instead, I felt an odd combination of relief, exhaustion, and disbelief. My mind kept replaying every struggle, every failure, every moment that had led me here.
The mornings I woke before sunrise, muscles aching from the previous day's drills.The afternoons Mother spent showing me magic, guiding my hands, refining each gesture until even the smallest motion had purpose.Father's constant refusals, each "no" sharpening my resolve, forcing me to try harder, think faster, push further.Every cut, every burn, every failed attempt… all of it led to this moment.
And yet, despite all that, I felt… unprepared.
After dinner, I retreated to my room, letting the warmth of the hall fade behind me. The bed welcomed me, but rest refused. My thoughts circled endlessly.
How did she figure it out?
I had healed her in the forest—briefly, cautiously—but I assumed she had been unconscious enough to forget. Apparently… I had been disastrously wrong.
What if she tells the King? What if Father and Mother are dragged into inquiries? What if the court discovers a seven-year-old wielding intermediate healing magic?
I buried my face in the pillow, breathing shallowly.
At exactly eleven, a voice drifted into the room, casual and calm.
'Hey, Rio.'
I bolted upright. "G-God?!"
I didn't see him at first. There was no glow, no aura of divinity. Just a presence—chill, calm, and somehow… completely normal. A teen, maybe sixteen or seventeen, leaning lazily against the far wall, flute slung across his back.
'Relax, dude. Midnight check-in. Chill, right?'
I blinked. "You… look normal. You are back"
'Normal enough, yeah, I came back, and you know what, I visited you firs,t' he said, shrugging. "About the princess—accept her condition, alright? Don't freak out. Roll with it. Simple."
"Condition?" I asked cautiously.
'She's got her reasons. Not my business. You'll understand soon enough. Just… don't mess it up.'
"What if she tells everyone about my healing magic?"
'Chill. She won't. She's smart, careful. You're lucky she's not planning to interrogate you for a week.'
I groaned into my hands. "Could you at least… explain something?"
'Nah. Figure it out yourself. Part of growing up.'
Chill god… definitely a chill god, I muttered.
'Anyway,' he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, 'just remember—listen to her, don't panic, try not to die. That's all for tonight.'
Then he was gone. The room was silent once more.
I hate chill gods…
As silence wrapped around me, fragments of my past lives rose unbidden, sharper than any blade I had ever wielded.
I saw myself again… that sixteen-year-old boy, living in a small, sunlit city.My mother, gentle and devoted, chanting softly as sunlight poured through our little home.Her voice carried warmth, rhythm, and calm—the lullaby of my childhood. My father, hardworking but smiling every time he returned home.Friends who liked me genuinely, and whom I liked in return.I wasn't the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest—but I had warmth, laughter, and stability surrounding me. And then… the accident. Running late. Lights blurred. One step. Another step. Screeching brakes. Pain. Fire coursing through my body. Paralyzed. Helpless. But I had to survive. Not for me… for them. Whispering lies to reassure them even as my lungs betrayed me. And then… nothing.
The first memory was faint at first—a city of wooden streets, lanterns swaying in the wind, and rooftops tiled like black waves. I was younger, older, and yet… me. A boy of sixteen, training endlessly under my father's watchful gaze. His hand was stern but fair, guiding my grip on the katana until the wood felt like an extension of my arm. Sweat stung my eyes, muscles screamed, but every strike, every parry, every stumble shaped me into someone who could survive.
I remember my mother, quiet and warm, tending the small garden behind our home. She hummed while pruning branches, the scent of plum blossoms curling into the evening air. Her voice carried calm and rhythm, a reminder that no matter how chaotic the world became, there was always a point to return to, always someone waiting.
Friends—few, loyal—shared our youthful ambitions and petty rivalries. We weren't wealthy, nor influential, but there was a sense of belonging that no palace could replicate. I wasn't the fastest, nor the smartest, but I was capable… and I believed that was enough.
The Third life came as a whisper of light, a city of glass and metal, glowing streets under neon skies. I was older, faster, cleverer. Magic still absent, replaced by machines and weapons of cold precision. Guns replaced swords, algorithms replaced tactics, but the lesson remained the same: adapt or die. I had friends again, true comrades this time, who trusted me because I never wavered in battle or loyalty. And yet, betrayal and miscalculation struck again. A single shot, a misjudged angle, and I was gone—again.
Then came this life.
The contrast was stark. Magic. Palaces. Forests that breathed life into the air itself. A princess who trusted me before I fully understood why, and a court unaware that a child possessed power beyond reckoning. I could feel the echoes of my former selves in my veins—the disciplined focus of the first life, the cunning and adaptability of the second, now tempered by the awakening of something far greater: the mana that coursed through me, alive, responsive, and demanding mastery.
I sat on my bed, heart pounding. I survived. Again. This time, I won't fail. This time… I can protect those who trust me, those who cannot defend themselves. This time… I can be more than just a boy reborn.
A gust of wind rattled the window. I could almost feel the ghosts of my past lives brushing against my skin, whispering lessons I had learned too late. Strength without control is nothing. Loyalty without foresight invites disaster. Courage without wisdom is reckless. I shivered at the truth of it. Even now, as I wielded healing magic, as I moved through a world of royalty and intrigue, I was only beginning to understand the depth of what had been handed to me.
The forest incident replayed in my mind. Tess, lying still, the warmth of her mana brushing against mine, her silent plea for help. I had acted instinctively, as I had in every previous life—because surviving alone is hollow; helping those who need you, that is true power. And now… she remembered. She trusted me. She chose to trust me.
I clenched my fists. That trust was fragile, precious, heavier than any sword or gun I had ever held. I cannot fail her.
Memories of training flickered next—hours of relentless drills with sword and spell alike, the countless mornings when I woke before the sun, muscles screaming from the day before. Every failure etched itself into my resolve, every minor victory a reminder that growth is a slow, painful process. The world had given me these lives not to punish me, but to forge me. Every cut, every bruise, every sleepless night had been preparation for this—the moment I could wield power not for myself, but to protect, to act, to live fully and consciously.
And in the quiet of my room, under the dim light of the moon, I realized something terrifying and exhilarating: I was no longer just a survivor. I was a conduit of change. A boy of seven, yes—but armed with centuries of experience distilled into this one fragile, fragile body.
I breathed deeply, feeling mana stir in my fingertips, aware of the responsibility it carried. Tess's request to join me, the court's unseen expectations, my parents' careful balancing act—all of it rested on the choices I made next. And I would choose carefully.
For the first time in as many lifetimes as I could remember, I felt the full weight of possibility. I had been given a third chance. A life that was not just about surviving, but about shaping, guiding, protecting, and understanding.
And I would not squander it.
The gardens were bathed in silver moonlight, the fountain scattering light like diamonds across stone pathways. Jasmine scented the cool air, sweet and soothing.
Princess Tesselia sat on a white stone bench, golden hair fluttering in the gentle night breeze, her gown shimmering faintly. She looked poised, composed, but her emerald eyes—bright, reflective, alive—carried a trace of vulnerability, a flicker of trust, and a hint of… desperation I hadn't expected.
I approached softly, careful not to disturb the serene night. She lifted her gaze immediately, and our eyes met. Something unspoken passed between us—a recognition, a shared secret.
"You came," she said softly.
I nodded, unable to speak coherently.
"Quiet tonight," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Thinking about… everything?"
"…Y-Yeah," I admitted, voice small. "About… you knowing."
Her lips curved faintly. "I wasn't going to tell anyone."
She wasn't going to? Relief washed through me.
"…Thank you," I said quietly.
She smiled faintly. "I wasn't able to thank you properly before. But now… I need to ask something."
Here it comes… I braced myself.
"Go ahead," I said cautiously.
"Take me with you," she said firmly. "On your journey."
I froze. "Wait—Your Highness! That's… impossible!"
"If I convince my father, I just need your permission. I won't force anything."
Her eyes flickered, and I saw it—the desperation I had glimpsed the first night I saw her, when she had quietly pleaded with her own eyes for freedom and trust. That memory struck me harder than I expected.
I can't refuse her. Not now. Not ever if it means ignoring the trust she placed in me.
"But… why?" I asked.
She glanced down, voice softening. "I don't want to stay in the palace. I don't want to sit idle while others grow, learn, and explore. I don't want to be useless. I want to understand the world… and myself… and I…"
Her words faltered. "…I'm tired of being protected every second of my life."
I didn't press further. "…I'll think about it," I said finally. "If your father agrees."
Her eyes widened. "You… will?"
"I can't promise yet," I admitted. "But I won't reject you without trying."
Her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Why… thank me?" I asked.
"Because… I never thanked you properly," she said. "For saving me back then. Your mana… the warmth… I remembered it."
I rubbed my neck awkwardly. "…Well, you're welcome."
As I turned away, my mind lingered on that look—the desperation in her eyes that night. That's why I said yes. Not because I like her yet… but because I can't walk away.
She stood as well. "…Rio?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't need to talk formally to me," she said softly. "Call me… Tess."
I hesitated. "…Alright. Tess."
She gave a small approving smile. "Good night, Rio."
"Good night, Tess," I murmured, feeling warmth in my chest—not love, not yet—but responsibility, concern, and curiosity.
The next morning, breakfast was calm… almost deceptively so. Until King Edward's gaze found me.
"Rio," he said casually, though his tone carried weight, "Tess mentioned something last night… about joining your adventures. Care to explain?"
I froze. Oh no… here it comes…
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty," I said, trying to sound confident. "I… I would make sure she stays safe."
The King raised an eyebrow. "Just make sure? Not very confident, boy."
Uh-oh…
I hesitated, cheeks flushing lightly. "…But I'll do my best. She… she trusts me. And I… well… I can't let anything happen to her."
The King studied me. "Hmph. Fine. You may… try. But fail, and you explain yourself to me personally."
A familiar voice echoed in my mind—God, calm and unseen:
'See? Told you, kid. Chill. Handle it your way.'
I smiled faintly. Yeah… chill, just like always…
The day stretched ahead with new possibilities, a sense of responsibility heavier but more meaningful than I had ever felt.
And Tess… I wonder what the rest of this journey will bring…