Darkness. Silence.
Then… light.
Aaron opened his eyes.
Everything was blurred—shapes, sounds, colors—but he felt it immediately. The air was clean. Soft. Conditioned. The room smelled expensive, even though his newborn senses could barely define it. Linen. Leather. Polish. Wealth had a scent, and he remembered it well.
So this is it, he thought.
Another life.
His body was small. Weak. Barely functional. But his mind? Sharp. Awake. Ancient.
He didn't cry. What was there to fear?
The warmth that wrapped around him came from steady hands. Gentle, practiced. He was being cleaned, inspected, swaddled like porcelain. Voices hovered nearby—low, murmuring, trying not to sound nervous. Someone was speaking, but he didn't bother listening. Not yet.
He wasn't interested in them. Not now.
This moment was for him.
He had lived too many lives to count. As a warrior who carved kingdoms from war. As a hacker who brought down governments with code. As a CEO who shattered markets. As a man who loved, lost, and killed.
Each life ended with the same thought: What was it all for?
But this time…
This time I will live.
Truly live.
No longer chasing thrones. No longer surviving shadows. No longer wearing masks to play someone else's game.
This life is mine.
His first breath came easy. Controlled. Quiet. A nurse commented on it. Someone laughed softly. He ignored them all.
His body was small, yes. But his will filled the room.
He could feel the fabric against his skin—too smooth to be ordinary. His back rested against something warm. Someone held him, carefully. A heartbeat pulsed behind him. Slow. Steady. Probably his mother. He didn't turn toward her yet.
He was learning.
Every light flicker, every muted step, every subtle tension in the air told him one thing:
This was not a poor family.
This was not an ordinary home.
He had been born into power.
Interesting.
He didn't smile. He didn't move. He just stared upward, watching the ceiling blur in and out of focus. His thoughts remained steady, sharp.
No one knows who I am.
No one knows what I've seen.
That's good.
He wouldn't speak of past lives. Not in this one. No grand prophecies. No chosen-one nonsense. That wasn't how real power worked.
Here, in this world, wealth was the throne. Influence was the sword. Image was the armor. And he had been born with all three.
He would enjoy this life.
Savor it.
Love, laugh, fight, and win.
No more dying early. No more playing someone else's game.
This time, it was about him.
He blinked once. Slowly. As if accepting a deal only he knew existed.
Welcome back, Aaron.