Earth, late 20th century.
Rain hammered against the rooftops of a worn-down neighborhood where dreams rarely survived long enough to take their first breath. Inside a small apartment on the fourth floor lived a young man named Raze—twenty-five years old, jobless, and standing at the crossroads of a life that felt like it no longer belonged to him.
Raze stared at the cracked mirror in his room, running a hand through his messy dark hair.
"Look at you," he muttered to himself. "Twenty-five and nothing to show for it."
His voice echoed strangely in the empty room. No posters, no instruments, no signs of the dreams he once had. All of it had been sold off—slowly, painfully—to pay bills, to survive, to keep his mother's treatments going just a little longer.
He closed his eyes, remembering a different time.
A tiny living room.
A much younger Raze, maybe seven, standing on a chair with a wooden spoon as a microphone.
His mother clapped her hands and laughed.
"You're going to be a star someday, Raze," she said, her eyes warm. "I know it."
Back then, he believed her.
***
But life wasn't a kind judge.
Raze wasn't born with wealth, connections, or a safety net. His mother, a single parent after his father passed away, worked three jobs at a time—waitress, cleaner, clerk—anything that would keep food on the table and Raze in school. She gave all she had, and he knew it.
He had wanted to repay her. To make her proud. To shine.
So the moment he grew old enough, he chased music with everything he had.
He used the old keyboard his father had left behind, then the small funds from his father's remaining assets, then whatever loan he could convince a bank to give him. Raze practiced until his voice cracked, wrote music until dawn, and recorded tracks in cramped, cheap studios that smelled of dust and old dreams.
But reality was ruthless.
Music producers dismissed him.
Auditions rejected him.
Online uploads gained no attention.
And gradually, his savings disappeared.
Then his mother fell sick.
A cruel, degenerative illness—slow, expensive, unforgiving. Raze worked part-time jobs, then full-time ones, then overtime until he collapsed. No matter how hard he pushed, the money was never enough. Bills stacked like mountains. His music had to be abandoned; he had no choice.
And slowly, his hope thinned.
***
The hospital room was silent except for the mechanical beeping of machines. Raze sat beside his mother's bed, holding her frail hand. Her once lively eyes had dimmed, but her smile—gentle and warm—remained the same.
"Mom… I'm sorry," Raze whispered, voice trembling.
His mother's fingers squeezed his weakly. "For what…?"
"For everything." His throat tightened. "I wasted Dad's savings. I failed my auditions. I couldn't give you a better life. And when you needed me most, I—"
"Stop," she whispered, though even speaking seemed to hurt her. "Raze… you did everything you could. More than anyone else would."
He shook his head, tears blurring his vision.
"I wanted to be someone who could make people smile. Someone worth being proud of."
Her thumb brushed the back of his hand. "I've always been proud of you."
His breath caught.
"You have a kind heart. You care. You loved your dreams enough to chase them. That alone… is enough for a mother like me." Her voice grew softer, fading like a dimming flame. "Raze… please don't hate yourself for the world's cruelty."
He lowered his forehead onto their joined hands. "Mom… please don't go."
She looked at him for a long moment—eyes full of a lifetime of love—and whispered her final words:
"Live… your life, Raze. Find your light… even if the world can't see it."
And then… the beeping stopped.
The world fell silent.
***
Days passed. Maybe weeks. Raze didn't keep track anymore.
He walked through life like a ghost, drifting from street to street with no purpose. Music felt distant—like a dream from a previous life. And at twenty-five, he saw no future ahead of him. No career. No passion. No family.
Nothing left.
One night, he wandered to a hill overlooking the city. Neon lights flickered below, painting the wet streets in streaks of blue and red. A cold wind swept across the hilltop, carrying the faint scent of rain.
Raze stood alone under the turbulent sky.
"Is this really it?" he whispered to the darkness. "Is this all I am…?"
He laughed bitterly.
"I just wanted to sing. To make people smile. Was that too much to ask?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Raze spread his arms slightly, as if embracing the storm.
"Mom… could I ever become someone you'd be proud of? Someone who brings joy to people? Someone who matters?"
The wind answered with a hollow wail.
He closed his eyes.
"Maybe… it's impossible."
Lightning flickered across the sky—violent, bright, splitting the clouds open.
Raze opened his eyes just in time to see the heavens tear apart with a blinding flash.
*CRACK!*
A bolt of lightning surged downward, striking the ground with earth-shattering force.
And it hit him.
Pain?
No. Something beyond pain.
A sensation that ripped through his nerves, his bones, his very soul.
The world dissolved into white—endless, consuming, absolute.
His final thought before the light swallowed him was a whisper:
"If there's another chance… let me be someone who can make people smile."
Then Raze's world vanished.
Everything went silent.
************
Born Again
Raze had always wondered what dying would feel like.
He never imagined it would be peaceful. He never imagined it would be warm. But as lightning swallowed his world, he felt only one thing:
Regret.
*If I disappear like this… without achieving anything… without making anyone smile… then what was my life even for?*
That was his final thought before everything faded into blinding white.
***
When sensation returned, it came all at once—light, sound, warmth, a strange softness surrounding him. He tried to breathe, but the air felt different. Thicker. New.
He tried to speak, but—
"Aah… aaah—!"
Only a cry escaped his lips.
His eyes snapped open.
He wasn't standing. He wasn't lying in a bed. He was being *held*—small arms wrapped in blankets, pressed against the chest of a woman whose face radiated a warmth he hadn't felt since his real mother passed.
…What?
He tried to look around. His vision was blurry, shapes melting into each other. His limbs felt tiny, uncoordinated, useless. Panic surged through him.
Why can't I move? Why can't I talk?
A soft voice answered him—not his thoughts, but the soothing words of the woman holding him.
"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright… Mama's here."
Mama.
That word hit him like a flood.
He wasn't alone in her arms. When he turned his head—slowly, clumsily—he saw another tiny baby beside him, wrapped in a similar blanket, crying just as helplessly as he was.
A girl.
Her features mirrored his—same hair, same tiny nose, a slight birthmark under her left eye. Their eyes met for a fleeting second before their cries overlapped again.
The woman laughed softly, exhausted but full of love.
"My beautiful twins… welcome to the world."
Twins.
The realization crashed into him like the lightning that killed him.
I… I've been reborn? Reincarnated? As a baby? As a twin?!
He wanted to scream—not from fear, but from sheer disbelief.
Then he saw the room more clearly. The architecture, the clothing, the strange symbols carved into the walls—none of it resembled Earth.
Wait… is this… a fantasy world?
Floating particles of light drifted near the window like fireflies. A maid walked by holding a lantern that glowed without a flame. Nothing looked modern.
It was absurd. Impossible.
Yet completely real.
A warm hand stroked his cheek. The woman—his new mother—held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.
Her scent, her warmth… everything felt too real to deny.
This… actually happened.
His memories from Earth were still intact. Every regret. Every dream. Every moment with his real mother. His failures. His longing. The lightning.
All of it remained, sitting strangely inside this newborn body.
He had not just reincarnated—his soul and memories had been carried over fully.
He was Raze. And yet… he wasn't.
***
The first month passed in a haze of infant helplessness.
He hated it.
He hated not being able to move properly.
He hated not being able to speak.
He hated crying just to communicate anything at all.
But he adapted.
His new mother cared for him and his sister endlessly, never once showing irritation or fatigue. A maid with silver hair helped her, changing their clothes, feeding them, humming lullabies in a magical language Raze didn't understand at first.
But slowly—surprisingly quickly—he began to pick up the meaning of their words.
*Is it because my brain is new? Or did reincarnation give me something extra?*
By the end of the month, he understood almost half their basic conversations.
He still couldn't speak, but comprehension alone was progress.
His twin sister, meanwhile, clung to him constantly. Whenever he was picked up, she reached her tiny hands toward him. Whenever she cried, she stopped only when their mother placed them side by side.
He had never had a sibling before.
Maybe… maybe it was nice.
***
One month after their birth, the household changed.
Visitors came. Servants cleaned every corner. Decorations were hung. The atmosphere filled with excitement and formality.
It was the day of the Naming Ceremony.
According to their customs—one he barely understood—children were not officially recognized until the church performed the ritual and recorded their names. Until then, they were simply "the twins."
His mother dressed in elegant robes, carrying Raze in her arms, while the maid carried his sister.
Then they boarded a beautifully crafted **carriage**, drawn by white, scaled creatures that looked nothing like horses.
As the carriage rolled through the streets, Raze peeked through the window. What he saw confirmed it beyond doubt.
—Tall spires glowing with magical light.
—People wearing robes embroidered with arcane symbols.
—Floating lanterns drifting along pathways.
—Guards carrying weapons that pulsed with mana.
*This really is… a fantasy world.*
His heart beat faster—not in fear, but in a sense of destiny he had never felt before.
The carriage stopped before a massive building—white stone, golden windows, and a symbol etched upon its door: a winged cross surrounded by circular runes.
The *Church of Lumina*.
People bowed as his mother stepped out.
"Lady Arlienne! Blessed day for your twins."
His mother smiled elegantly. "Thank you. May the Light guide them well."
Raze watched, amazed.
She wasn't a normal mother.
She was someone important.
Someone respected.
The doors of the church opened with a low hum, light spilling out like dawn breaking.
Inside, a priest waited at the altar, holding a crystal sphere that glowed softly.
"Bring forward the children," he said with a gentle voice. "Let the Light bestow their names and futures."
Raze felt his mother's grip tighten protectively around him.
For the first time in this new life… he felt afraid.
What would this ceremony do to him?