Chapter 4 – Cutting Ties
The path out of the forest wasn't long, but Alexander—no, Edmund—took his time as he walked. His head was still buzzing from the flood of memories earlier, and the cool night air helped calm him down.
With each step, he thought about the mess he had inherited.
The truth was simple: Edmund Whitaker's life was a disaster. His magic talent was terrible, his social standing was almost nonexistent, and he had practically no allies. Add to that his embarrassing weakness for certain people, and the picture wasn't pretty.
"Seriously," Edmund muttered under his breath, kicking a stone from the path. "This guy just went out of his way to screw himself up. It's like he wanted to be a background character forever."
He sighed. He wasn't saying it was easy—being talentless in a world where mana determined worth was basically a curse. But even then, Edmund's choices didn't help. From the memories, he saw countless times the kid bent over backward for people who didn't care about him. He let insults slide. He let pride go. He let people walk over him.
And the worst example of that weakness was waiting for him right outside his own home.
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As the small apartment came into view, a sharp, familiar voice rang out.
"Edmund! Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?"
He froze, then slowly turned his head.
A girl stood there, arms crossed, eyes blazing like fire. She was beautiful—bright red hair that glowed under the moonlight, fair skin, and deep red eyes that seemed almost unnatural. Her name came to him immediately from the memories.
Emilia Clarke.
Daughter of Baron Clarke. Student of Lustria University. And Edmund's girlfriend… or at least, that's what he used to tell himself.
From the way she looked at him now, the way she sneered at his silence, Alexander couldn't help but laugh bitterly inside. Girlfriend? Please. That's giving her too much credit.
The memories made it clear. She wasn't just bad for Edmund—she was actively cruel. She belittled him, mocked him, used him when convenient, and tossed him aside when she got bored. The only reason their relationship existed at all was because Edmund had been too much of a spineless simp to let go. The fact that she was a noble only made him cling harder.
She kept shouting, hurling sly remarks, insulting him in every way she could. "Useless! Spineless! Pathetic! Do you even—"
"Hey, Emilia," Edmund said suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through hers like a blade.
She stopped, blinking in confusion.
"Let's break up."
The words dropped into the night air, plain and firm.
"…What?" she asked, her red eyes widening.
Edmund sighed, his expression indifferent. "Emilia Clarke, I've decided I don't want to be in a relationship with you anymore. So let's break up."
He didn't wait for her reply. He turned and walked straight toward his apartment door.
His footsteps echoed on the stone as he muttered under his breath, "If I want to fix this… no, if I want to fix my life… that girl has got to go."
Behind him, Emilia stood frozen, her mouth slightly open. Shock painted across her face. For the first time, it seemed she didn't know what to say.
Edmund didn't care. He didn't even look back.
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The apartment was exactly as the memories described.
Small. Humble.
One bedroom with a narrow bed, a simple wooden table and chair, and a small wardrobe with a cracked mirror fixed to its door. A kitchen compartment no bigger than a closet. A bathroom that was just functional enough.
It was a poor student's home, nothing more, nothing less.
Edmund ignored most of it. His body was still sticky with dirt and sweat from the forest, so he went straight to the bathroom. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was better than nothing.
After scrubbing himself clean, he stepped out and moved past the mirror.
He paused.
For a second, he wanted to be shocked. But he couldn't be—because he had already seen this face through the memories.
Still, seeing it directly was different.
The reflection staring back at him wasn't the tired, average middle-aged salaryman from Earth.
It was a young man with obsidian-black hair, smooth and neat, falling slightly across his forehead. His skin was pale, almost white, and his features sharp. His eyes were a striking grey—cold, calm, and surprisingly deep.
He wasn't tall. Shorter than average, but not so short as to be laughable. Just enough that it made him stand out in a group.
Edmund tilted his head, studying the reflection. "…Damn. This guy was actually stunning. Shame he wasted it all simping for the wrong people."
A bitter laugh slipped out, but it faded quickly. He didn't have time to admire himself.
Right now, there was something more important.
His new power.
The one that didn't come from Edmund's memories. The one tied to his transmigration.
He couldn't describe it well. It was just a sensation lingering in the back of his mind, like a locked door waiting to be opened. Something to do with memories.
He didn't know what it could do yet, or how to use it. But one thing was certain: if he wanted to fix this new life, if he wanted to rise above the pathetic fate Edmund had been stuck with, then this ability was his starting point.
Edmund sat down at the edge of his bed, his grey eyes narrowing with focus.
"Alright," he muttered. "Time to see what I've got."
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