Chapter 0 [ For A Wish to be a Turtle]
A gruff voice: "~Haa... What else do you want? ... Has he not given you all his fortune? Or have you actually started to care about him, Madam?"
A middle-aged man in a long dark silk robe spoke. He had a medium stature and a thin mustache touching his chin. He looked at a woman sitting in an armchair. To her left was a modest bed with cotton bedsheets, and on it lay an old man staring at the wooden ceiling.
The woman had a rather modest attire with plain white ruqun , she seemed in her mid twenties and her beauty can be only considered as otherworldly with her silver hair cascading to her waist and her azure eyes filled with a troubled sense of anticipation. Any man would desire to comfort her make that pained look from her eyes go away.
A shadow fell across the woman's face as she lowered her head the air around her got colder.
Woman: "Can you please leave."
More than a request it seemed like an order.
The middle-aged man remained silent looking at her with a blank expression, then from a low chuckle he gradually burst into frantic laughter eying the old man.
Middle aged man: "...Hahahaha you deserve a lofty title in hell, ! ... Ohh, for heaven's sake... after you poisoned him, you want to be there for his final moments?" he mocked.
The woman rose to her feet, glaring at him with tear-filled eyes. His laughter died as he held his neck. His face lost all colors as he saw blood on his palm.
-SPPLURRSHH
A fountain of blood spurted out from his neck as he tried to hold it but his head fell down with a thud rolling down to her feet and soon his headless corpse fell down as a silence fell over the room along with a sound of rustling autumn leaves outside.
"If I said I wasn't terrified, I'd be lying. The concept of death may sound foreign to most, but it is something I know intimately."
Old man: "Cough! Cough!"
The old man coughed, clutching his chest, but soon the fit subsided. His chest rose and fell with difficulty.
"D-Dear!?" The woman hurriedly clasped his wrinkled left hand in both of hers.
"...But... Who... Who was it again?"
He tried to remember looking at her mesmerizing face which was lacked with freckles of blood. So many faces. So many memories.
"Yes, it's that young woman who married me a year ago. ... I remember Bai Qingyue It's her, isn't it?"
Bai Qingyue: "...D-Dear!... T-That promise you made!..."
Her voice cracked with urgency, her grip on his palm tightening.
She might be the reason for my untimely death, but still, I'm grateful. Whatever her motives, in the end she chose to stay by my side.
"Cough. Cough, my wife..." he muttered hoarsely. Summoning almost all his remaining will, he propped himself against the headboard, his shaking hand pointing toward the wilted plum tree beyond the wooden porch.
As soon as he did, he froze. The moment he pointed at the tree, he saw his wife rush toward it without giving him a second glance.
The familiar sensation of death drew closer, but watching her dig under the plum tree, he felt satisfied. He knew this was not the end, whether he willed it or not.
Maybe if I'm born again, I want to be something less complex. Perhaps a turtle swimming in the deep ocean.
It was his last thought before his mind went still. The last thing he saw was his wife coughing blood, looking at him with fury as she collapsed before the wilted tree. Then he died.
"E-Elias!"
An excruciating headache pounded in his skull, it felt as if it continues his entire head with explode.
Blood dripped from his nose, and someone grabbed his shoulders, shaking him hard.
What is happening?
He began to feel senses he remembered having—only sharper than before. At first the sounds around him were muffled, but with each breath they grew clearer.
"ELIAS! ELIAS!"
Why does that name feel so familiar? And... that voice?
He clutched his head, but a sudden wave of nausea churned his stomach.
-BRUGH
His throat burned as he vomited. His back hit the cold wall, and through his blurred vision he saw a row of metallic lockers and a pair of black shoes. He closed his eyes, but the pain would not stop.
"WHO DID THIS!"
He felt someone hugging him tightly. When he opened his eyes, his vision was still vague, yet he saw a pair of amber eyes filled with tears looking down at him.
"...J-Jonathan?" he said hoarsely as this consciousness as the world around him turned dark.
* * *
Jonathan? Why does that name feel so... familiar?
It was the first name that came to his mind after looking into those eyes.
He held his head. To his relief, the excruciating headache was gone.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a white ceiling. At first it blurred, but soon his vision returned.
"D-Don't touch the stitches!"
A hand gripped his wrist and pulled his palm away from his forehead. The grip lasted only a second, but unperturbed, he stared at his own hands in fascination. They were pale as fresh snow, smooth, without wrinkles or visible scars—and they did not seem to belong to an infant.
...This is rather peculiar.
Never in his past reincarnations had he experienced anything like this. As he tried to remember, a profound sense of wrongness settled over him.
Why can't I remember a single soul from my previous lives?
"...It seems..."
A sharp pain ran through his temples, forcing him to clutch his head.
It's not right... B-But how?
"M-Mister Frost? Is everything alright?" a calm female voice asked.
The pain suddenly intensified.
It felt as though lightning had shot through his spine. His body became numb, and in the blink of an eye, the world around him disappeared.
He found himself falling into an unfathomable darkness.
Fragmented memories surged through his mind like a wild storm. Faces. Voices. Places. Events he had long forgotten collided with his consciousness one after another.
He couldn't tell where one memory ended and another began.
It felt as though he were drowning.
"My sweetie."
A soft voice echoed through the darkness.
At first, it was muffled. Then it became much clearer.
T-That voice...
It seems I'm reliving some past events.
His eyes closed as a familiar warmth enveloped him, accompanied by a scent he had not smelled in countless lifetimes.
M-Mom?...It's... But how?
Suddenly, his dark surroundings were engulfed in flames. In front of him lay a half-burned corpse, its eyes staring directly into his soul. Then everything faded into oblivion.
Drip. Drip.
"M-Mister Frost!?"
The woman in front of him sprang to her feet. She appeared to be in her twenties, with a slender frame, a white coat, and neatly tied hair.
"Your nose!"
Elias touched his nose as he saw warm crimson on the tip of his finger.
It's...It's my very first life. But why did I return here?