In a dark, narrow corridor, I kept moving with steady steps. My small feet padded quietly toward the source of a soft, melodic sound echoing from deep within.
The hallway stretched endlessly, its walls carved from smooth, white marble. The melody was calling me—or at least, that's what I felt. My senses were dulled, distant. When I reached out to touch the wall, I felt… nothing.
No cold, no resistance... just air. As though the walls weren't real at all. That sensation, or lack of it, made my anxiety stir. Still, I walked.
Minutes passed… then hours. Or longer. Time felt warped here, dragging me along in silence.
My throat burned with dryness. My legs began to tremble. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay upright for much longer. My steps faltered.
But then... I saw it. A pure white light shimmered far ahead, gentle yet unyielding. The melody grew louder, clearer. Hope sparked within me, a rush of strength surging into my weary limbs.
I ran toward it.
The light didn't fade as I approached. Instead, it welcomed me, enveloped me, and then—I passed through.
What lay beyond was… a room. Ordinary, almost absurdly so. A bed. A desk. A chair. A closet. A ceiling fan spinning lazily. A window with its curtains drawn. And a piano.
She sat at the piano.
A woman.
I couldn't make out her features clearly, only fragments. Long black hair veiled her face like a curtain.
She was playing the piano. That same soft melody I had been hearing all this time—it came from her hands.
I swallowed hard and stepped into the room.
She paused.
Her fingers lifted from the keys. Slowly, she brushed aside the strands of hair hiding her face. I saw her then—pale skin like porcelain, lips curled into a serene smile.
She stood and stretched her arms toward me, inviting me into an embrace.
I froze.
A palpable dread bloomed in my chest. I didn't understand why. Her smile was warm. Her posture gentle. Yet something deep, primal, screamed at me to run.
But I couldn't move—not of my own will.
My feet stepped forward. One. Then another. My body betrayed me.
'No... No… NO! NO—!'
I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My mouth didn't even open.
She wrapped her arms around me. Her touch was tender, her smile full of joy.
But inside, I was suffocating.
"My baby finally came back to me~" she whispered sweetly.
She held me tighter.
"Now you won't leave your mother… right?" she cooed. "Mother was very scared, you know? The world out there is cruel and terrible. You don't need it. You have me. I'll take care of you… forever~"
She giggled, swaying slightly as she pulled me deeper into her embrace, her cheek pressing against mine. She was happy. Radiantly so.
But I wasn't.
The unease clawed at my insides. I wanted to scream, to tear myself away from her but I still had no control. My body refused to obey.
Still, I struggled. Not outwardly, but inside. I pushed against the invisible chains, desperate to break free.
I didn't want this.
I didn't want her.
And yet—she wouldn't let me go…
Until I finally succeeded.
Something broke.
She felt it, the shift, the resistance. She felt me pulling away. Felt that I no longer wanted her embrace.
Her lips parted slightly. "You… don't like mommy?"
Silence.
A suffocating, crushing silence filled the air. I was breathless, panting, my mind spinning in chaos.
Why?
How?
What was happening?
But one thing became painfully, horrifyingly clear... I didn't like her. Not at all.
Her expression twisted into something grotesque. The gentle warmth she once wore collapsed into pure venom.
"You want to leave mommy alone, don't you?" she hissed. "All these years weren't enough for you, were they? You ungrateful child!"
Slap!
Her hand struck my face, snapping my head to the side. I stumbled and fell, but… there was no pain. As if none of this was real. As if my body was just an empty shell.
But I had no time to think. She rose from her seat and slowly crouched beside me, her presence looming, oppressive.
Her fingers reached for me with trembling grace, and I saw her face—tear-streaked, eyes bloodshot, mouth quivering.
"Why are you like this?" she whispered brokenly. "Why couldn't you just listen to mommy? Why does everyone want to leave mommy?"
Her hands wrapped around my neck.
She began to squeeze.
But I felt nothing, no pain. No panic. Not even the suffocation.
Instead—freedom.
A strange, surreal peace washed over me. Like a weight long chained to my soul had finally begun to lift. I felt… light. Liberated. As if something monstrous within me was unraveling.
Then—
Everything went blank.
…
Woff! Woff!! Woff!!!
My eyes flew open.
A golden chandelier swayed gently on the ceiling above. My chest heaved. A soft tugging at my blankets snapped my attention to the side.
Puffy.
My best friend.
The little furball barked twice more and wagged his tail furiously, his paws digging into my blanket as he tried to shake me fully awake.
I turned to the side table and checked the clock.
6:00 AM.
Sigh.
I dragged a hand through my hair, slick with cold sweat.
'A dream… huh.'
No… A memory.
A memory from a past life—a past I had desperately wanted to forget. A past that haunted me long after death.
Yes, I had died.
And like those cliché protagonists from anime or novels, I reincarnated.
That was twenty-two years ago.
I was born into a noble house—Baron Ashcroft, in the Empire of Veloria, nestled within the Eridane Continent.
But I wasn't gifted. I wasn't chosen like those protagonists. I had no mysterious system or cheat ability. No grand mission like saving the world.
I was… average.
But I refused to remain that way.
This world—this second chance, was my escape. From my past. From my weaknesses. From the pathetic, broken shell I once was.
And most of all... from her.
This world was a fantasy, filled with aristocracy, politics, themes… and most importantly—magic.
Mana.
My affinity? Subpar. Barely above a commoner's level.
But here's the thing—this world wasn't a game of luck. It rewarded obsession, commitment, discipline. If someone was willing to bleed for it, they could grasp the truth behind magic.
And that's what I did.
I became obsessed with mana—its flow, its theory, its structure. Not because I was born for it… but because I needed it. I needed something to hold on to.
Something to keep myself distracted from my past, from my own patheticness.
Years passed in relentless study. Lonely practice and theory sessions.
And then, at the age of twenty-one, I stood as a 4th Circle mage.
Through sheer relentless and obsession filled hard work.
And yet—despite all of it…
The dreams haven't stopped.
The past still reaches for me.
Again and again, I find myself trapped in those dark corridors. Drenched in voices, in memories, in her.
In all those worthless, filthy pieces of a life I've tried so hard to bury.
I shook my head, brushing away the lingering fragments of that dream. No point dwelling on meaningless thoughts now.
I was late.
Today was my first day as a professor at the prestigious Imperial High Institution of Knowledge—one of the top academies in the world of Virelya. The last thing I wanted was to leave a bad impression on my students.
Kicking off the blankets, I reached down to ruffle Puffy's soft white fur.
"Morning, bud," I muttered with a yawn.
He wagged his tail and yipped softly in response, nudging my hand for more.
I gave him a few affectionate rubs, then headed straight to the bathroom for a quick shower.
As warm water streamed down my back, my thoughts spiraled again. Today wasn't just any day. It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
A clean slate. A dream fulfilled.
I was finally getting a job, my dream job, something I could never achieve in my previous life.
'Though… being the youngest professor probably won't earn me any favors,' I thought, scrubbing shampoo into my hair. 'And these noble brats? They'll be playful and arrogant, too. A hassle to deal with.'
Still, I wasn't backing down.
I had been meek and submissive once—fragile, uncertain, easily pushed around in my previous life. But that version of me was long gone, buried with my old life.
No one had the right to order me around.
Whether it be the past, present or the future.
After finishing up, I toweled off quickly and stood in front of the mirror. A pale face stared back at me, sharp features, tired yet focused dark-grey eyes, and obsidian-black hair still damp from the shower.
"Decent," I muttered under my breath.
I wasn't handsome. But I wasn't ugly either. Somewhere in the middle. Unremarkable in looks, until I opened my mouth.
My smile was beautiful.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked to my wardrobe, selecting my outfit.
A sleek black mage ensemble, tailored like a semi-formal suit—black trousers, gloves, and dark boots. Over it, I chose a silver-rimmed overcoat that rested lightly on my shoulders, adding a touch of style and authority.
A quiet bark drew my attention.
Wooooff! Wooooooofff!
Puffy spun dramatically around me, clearly sensing that I was heading out. That we wouldn't see each other until late.
I crouched down again and scratched his belly as he rolled over, tail wagging furiously.
"Aww… look at you. Who's a good boy, hmm? Who's the best boy in the world? That's right—it's you."
He purred in his weird dog-like way and licked my hand.
After a few more minutes, I gave him a final pat and stood up. Puffy didn't throw a tantrum. He was a good boy. Always had been… ignoring some instances.
I gave my room one last glance. Books neatly stacked. Bed half-made. A quiet stillness lingered in the air.
With a sigh, I opened the door.
Only to come face-to-face with someone already standing outside.
A tall boy—around 190 centimeters—with tousled black hair and familiar grey eyes. A grin stretched across his face.
"Hey, Riven!" he said cheerfully. "What took you so long? Don't tell me you got all sentimental on me this morning. That doesn't suit you, bro."
The boy in front of me was my younger brother—Lior Ashcroft. Sixteen years old and already taller than me by several inches.
And as always, way too energetic and cheerful.