I couldn't help but think:
'Why am I so damn unlucky?'
No—calling it mere bad luck would be putting it lightly.
It was more accurate to say that I was the unluckiest bastard alive.
And why was that?
Because I was about to die.
Shhhk!
A blade, as cold and sharp as the wind slicing through the night, hovered right at my throat.
"…I'm sorry."
The man muttered, his entire body shrouded in black, leaving only his eyes visible.
"Sorry? Don't be. This is how all hunting dogs end. If anything, I should be the one apologizing, kid."
I chuckled as I said it.
All around us lay countless corpses and pools of blood.
Yeah. I'd created this whole scene myself.
"By my lord's command, I will execute traitor No. 1872."
The man raised his sword to strike.
And then—
"Stop."
A low, commanding voice cut through the air, pressing down on everyone present.
Step… step…
A man walked toward us from afar, looking entirely out of place in this blood-soaked, grim scene.
He was clean-cut, refined—almost too composed for the situation.
"L-Lord…?"
Yes. This was the man I once served.
One of the Four Skies—
West Wing Lord, Roben Paterion.
Master of the Paterion family, ruler of the western lands.
In a world drenched in blood and malice, he alone stood like a figure untouched by the filth.
"Quite a rare sight, seeing you move that heavy backside all the way here," I said with a faint smile. "Why not do what you usually do and stay put?"
Roben's voice, as cold as ever, came in reply.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
I shrugged. His eyes grew even colder.
"The Shadow."
"…"
"Obeys orders. Nothing more. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah. That's what I was taught."
"And yet?"
His gaze didn't waver, and the blade at my neck didn't move.
"1872. You were one of the most capable, the most brilliant. Surely you understand the fate that awaits a traitor…"
"And if I said I wasn't a traitor, would you believe me? You wouldn't. So why bother asking? Just kill me already."
I laughed hollowly and met Roben Paterion's emotionless eyes.
"…"
Still expressionless. Impossible to guess what went on in that head of his.
Would he even listen if I explained that it hadn't been my will?
"Seriously, what else could I do? A delicious feast appears right in front of you—are you telling me you'd just ignore it? Hey, kid, don't you agree? It was the Millennium Duke's Heart Sutra, after all."
"…"
The man holding the blade at my throat didn't respond.
Roben's voice came again, calm and cutting.
"Foolish."
"Let's get this over with. Why drag it out if you're going to kill me anyway?"
"…"
Roben said nothing further.
Step.
He walked toward me and lightly pressed the sword against my neck.
Then he asked, eyes meeting mine:
"1872, do you know why I made you the leader of the Shadows?"
"Because I'm that great?"
"…"
Honestly, if he was going to make me the leader, he could've at least given me a proper name.
What the hell was '1872' supposed to be?
"You were more desperate than anyone. You valued your own life and knew when to give up what needed to be given up. But now…"
Roben lowered his sword and murmured in a cold, detached tone.
"To start chasing greed at this point… it's not just pathetic—it's almost tear-worthy."
If only I'd actually been greedy.
But what was I supposed to do when it just came to me the moment I touched it?
"…I feel the same way."
I had been chosen as a Shadow of the Paterion family when I was too young to even remember.
Raised as a hunting dog, an assassin, a cleaner of filth in the western lands.
I moved like a machine, obeyed like a beast.
I became an exemplary Shadow, never stopping, always carrying out my master's orders.
Eventually, people began to call me Captain.
I earned followers.
Even Roben Paterion acknowledged my contributions and made me the leader of the Shadows.
But so what?
A shadow was still just a shadow.
A tool to do the Paterion family's dirtiest work, to cover up their messes.
Even as the so-called leader, I was destined to spend my life cleaning up after them.
Once a shadow, forever a shadow.
A chess piece to be used by Roben Paterion until death.
Maybe that was why I began to wonder:
'How long do I have to keep living like this?'
I just wanted—
'…to live like a human.'
I wanted to be free from the constant threat of death hanging over my head.
I hated being forced to do things I despised.
And then, finally—
'I found the Millennium Treasure.'
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted.
But as a Shadow, I did what I always did—secure it.
Only…
Whoooosh—
'…?!'
I never intended to, but the moment I touched it, the treasure was absorbed into my body.
And that was the problem.
'I've always had rotten luck…'
The kill order came down soon after.
No explanation, no chance to defend myself.
Assassins and Shadows—my former comrades—came for my life, obeying Roben Paterion's command.
They had once been my allies.
Some I had even saved.
Comrades who had shared life and death with me.
Now they sought to kill me.
"…So that's why you ordered them to kill me?"
I muttered as I looked at the blood that stained the ground.
The loyal hounds and shadows who had spent their lives at my side, obeying Roben's commands—
I had already sent them all to their graves.
"I always wondered what it would feel like to be torn apart by the hounds I raised myself."
For the first time, a faintly twisted smile crept onto Roben's usually blank face.
"You really do have a sick sense of humor."
I felt a twinge of regret for those who had died, but no pity.
'The weak are always devoured by the strong.'
And soon, I would join them.
"By killing me now, you'll lose the Millennium Duke's Heart Sutra forever. You're fine with that?"
Roben said nothing at first.
Then, his lips curled.
"Seems you're under a delusion, 1872."
"A… delusion?"
"Did you really think I'd be swayed by such a petty threat?"
The smile remained on his lips as he nodded slightly.
Flash!
Something gleamed.
And then—
"Guh!"
A sharp pain pierced my chest—
no, it was as if a hole had been punched clean through my heart.
I looked down to see the gaping wound in my chest as Roben stared at me with his cold, indifferent eyes.
'Ah…'
The truth dawned on me.
Splatter!
Blood gushed out of me like a fountain as I collapsed.
Thud!
"…It's done."
The man who had struck the blow spoke in a trembling voice.
Roben's voice followed, as indifferent as ever:
"The so-called Heart Sutra of the Millennium Duke… it's nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary."
Despite his words, my eyes turned to the dark-clad figure standing beside him.
Clench.
"…Kid."
The young man's gaze met mine, his eyes clouded with grief.
"You… did well. Because of me…"
"…!"
His pupils trembled violently.
Of course they would.
No one would be unshaken after being forced to kill a comrade—
someone who had been like a parent to him.
"Click your tongue all you want. Now finish it."
"…Yes, my lord."
Still dazed, he obeyed Roben's order and reached out for my body with a trembling hand.
'What a pitiful way to go.'
Even in death, I had become a burden to someone else.
The thought made me let out a bitter laugh.
I was the legendary Shadow—
the one who had claimed countless lives and slain even the mighty.
Yet in the end, I was killed by the very subordinate I had raised.
'If I'd known it would come to this… I should've just run with it.'
The Heart Sutra of the Millennium Duke, Ganel, once hailed as the strongest on the continent.
Heaven's Seamless Weave (Cheonui Mubo, 天衣無縫)—
said to connect one directly to the heavens.
If I had just hidden away and mastered it in secret, I wouldn't have died such a pitiful death.
'…Idiot.'
I muttered at myself, yet I couldn't help feeling bitter.
To obtain a treasure of the ages only to die without even using it—
to give my life to someone I had served loyally for decades, all because of a single mistake—
it was unfair.
'I don't want to die. I want to live.'
And with that final thought, I lost consciousness.
"Aruru, peek-a-boo! My precious one, you're hungry, aren't you? Time to eat."
A beautiful woman with cool, refined features, violet hair, and crimson eyes smiled at me as she shook a bottle of warm milk.
I had been in this infant's body for a full month now.
'Guess I have to accept it.'
I still couldn't fully comprehend what had happened, but one thing was certain:
'I've been reborn.'
I hadn't gone back in time, nor had I possessed someone else's body.
I had truly reincarnated.
The death of 1872 had been followed by the birth of a new life.
At first, I couldn't believe it.
I thought it was a dream, or some divine illusion at the brink of death.
But as time passed, reality became clearer and undeniable.
What could I do? I had died… and then I was born again.
It wasn't something I could talk about or explain to anyone.
'Even if I could talk later, who would believe me?'
People would dismiss it as a child's fantasy or delusion.
Sure, I could reveal certain detailed secrets of the past to prove it, but…
'That would only attract the attention of the West Wing. I'd be inviting danger for no reason.'
"Kyah-ah! Peek-a-boo!"
The woman who fussed over me with silly faces was my new mother, Daisy.
"Ha-uu."
"Yes, I'm your mother. Come on, say it—'Mama.'"
"Ma-aa."
In truth, my babbling wasn't a response to her so much as a plea for food.
"Ma-ma. Mama."
"Mama? Oh, my baby's hungry again? Hmm, the bottle's not ready yet… oh well, we'll do it this way."
Without hesitation, she undid her blouse and brought me to her breast.
Well… it was a little awkward for a grown man to be suckling at someone's breast, but…
so what? I was a baby now.
My stomach rumbled.
I was really hungry.
Slurp, slurp!
As I drank greedily, Daisy smiled tenderly.
"Oh my. I wonder if this baby's a little genius—he eats so well. Such a good boy."
Pat, pat.
She tapped my bottom as she spoke.
Of course I was good.
I had survived over thirty years in the shadows—
yawn…
'Why am I so sleepy…?'
Before I could finish my thoughts, sleep overtook me.
Time passed—full of endless naps and feedings—and before I knew it, I was a hundred days old.
"Ruin. Say it—Mama. Ma-ma."
By the hundredth day, I had been given a name:
Ruin.
'I… have a name now.'
Having been called only 1872 my entire life, the moment I was given a real name stirred something in me.
A faint, bittersweet warmth filled my chest.
I set aside my emotions and began gathering information about my new home.
The house was sturdy, made of solid timber, furnished with simple yet well-kept items.
A modest but comfortable household.
The tools hanging on the wall—traps, arrows, spears—told me all I needed to know.
'A hunter's family, huh?'
But then…
'Where the hell is the baby's father? I can hardly ever see his face.'
He seemed to come home at times, but since I was asleep most of the time, I hadn't properly seen him yet.
"Ruin, say it—Mama. Come on, you can do it."
"O-oh-ma-ma."
"Yes, Mama. I'm your mama."
Just as I tried to humor my mother's coaxing—
Click!
The door opened.
"Daisy."
"Oh! Honey, you're home already?"
The moment I thought of him, my father appeared.
"A-aba…"
Seeing him, I instinctively reached out.
"Oh my, did he just…? Did he just say 'Papa'? Honey, I think he's calling for you!"
Startled, Daisy turned to me with wide eyes.
The man—broad-shouldered and sturdy—hurried over and scooped me into his arms.
"Ruin!"
He had striking black hair and clear blue eyes, with a face handsome enough to draw anyone's attention.
He smiled brightly as he held me.
"Did you miss your father that much?"
'Huh. Not bad-looking at all.'
There was an undeniable aura of confidence and dignity about him—
not the look of an ordinary hunter.
'He's definitely not just a simple hunter… ugh!'
I shifted uncomfortably as he rubbed his cheek against mine with doting affection.
'O-okay, that's enough. No need to overdo it…'
Just then—
Creak! Thud!
"Hey, Kavel! What are you doing? Come out and have a drink with me—"
A boisterous man barged in, only to be met by Daisy's suddenly sharp glare.
"Brion! Drinking in the middle of the day? Really!"
"Ah, Daisy—haha! Fine, fine. Kavel, next time then!"
The man—clearly my father's friend—shrank under my mother's fierce aura and quickly fled.
And then—
"Tch. Typical of someone from Kaphtalen. Scary as hell."
'…Wait. Did he just say Kaphtalen?'
At that muttered comment from the man called Brion, my ears perked up.
'Why bring up Kaphtalen here of all places?'
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T/N:
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