Pain.
It wasn't the pain from the wounds on his body that woke him—it was something deeper. Something that throbbed far more violently than cracked bones or bruised skin.
Steve's eyes fluttered open, staring into the darkness above. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't even breathe without it hurting. Not just his body, but everything.
His fall should have killed him.
And maybe, in a way, it had.
The boy who once stood at the edge of that cliff—laughing with the girl he loved, trusting her with his back—was now nothing but a broken shadow clinging to breath.
The sound of rushing wind still echoed in his ears. Her voice, her frown before she stabbed him. The weight of her hand on his back as she pushed.
"Why didn't you die when they attacked…?"
Lealaine .Her words rang again in his head, sharper than any blade.
"You were supposed to die with your parents."
His body trembled, not from cold, but from the realization.
It wasn't random.
His parents… their death… it wasn't fate.
It was planned. Premeditated.
The warm smiles of the people who raised him. The gentle strength of his father. The soft lullabies his mother sang to him at night. All of it—taken.
His fists clenched. Dirt and blood mixed in his nails.
"Why…" he whispered, voice dry and broken.
Why would someone do this?
Money?
Power?
Politics?
Or… something deeper?
It didn't matter. Not now. Not with his heart shattered into dust and his purpose stolen away.
He closed his eyes, and through the pain, the memories came flooding in.
The smile she gave when they first met.
The way she'd tug his sleeve and ramble about butterflies or sweets.
How she'd lean on his shoulder when she got sleepy.
The way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him.
"We'll be together forever, right?"
He had believed her.
He had wanted to believe her.
And now? That girl—the one who meant more than the entire world to him—had been the one to end it.
Steve's throat tightened. His chest heaved. But no tears came.
He wanted to cry. God, he wanted to cry until it all drained out of him.
But grief had dried him inside out.
All that was left was silence… and fire.
A bitter laugh broke from his lips, weak and raspy.
"Harem… OP skills… adventure…"
He remembered how stupidly excited he was when he first arrived in this world. A new life. A second chance. A dream come true.
He remembered laughing in his baby body, thinking it was all a setup for the perfect isekai story.
He remembered vowing to be strong. To build a life full of passion and love and beauty. Maybe even to find a group of girls who would adore him like those fantasy tales.
And yet… the one he gave his heart to had taken a dagger to it.
Another laugh escaped his throat, almost manic. It hurt. It echoed in the quiet forest air, disturbing even the birds above.
He stared at his trembling hand. Weak. Bloodied. But alive.
He should have died.
But he didn't.
And if life had given him this—another survival, another bitter twist—then maybe… just maybe… there was something more he had to do.
He pressed his hand to his chest.
"I didn't die."
No one was around to hear him.
"I'm still alive."
His voice grew a little stronger.
"And I will never forgive them."
There it was. The clarity. The resolve.
He wasn't going to throw away this second life.
Not for love. Not for heartbreak. Not even for peace.
He was a reincarnator.
He had fallen once.
And now—he would rise.
The forest around him howled with the night wind. The Forest of Death—fitting name, really. But now it would become the crucible that forged him anew.
Steve's eyes burned. Not with tears—but with something rawer.
"Love betrayed me."
"But power… power will not."
He dragged himself to his knees, pain shooting through every limb.
He didn't care.
He crawled toward a fallen branch, used it to lift himself.
He would train.
He would survive.
He would become so strong that no one—no one—would dare to take anything from him again.
Love could be a lie.
But power was truth.
With one final breath, he whispered into the shadows:
"This time… I'll be the one writing my story."
And the forest swallowed him, the boy with nothing left—but everything to gain.