Moonlight lingered at the threshold of the broken room, spilling through the shattered doorway like a silent witness. Illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air as the woman stood still. Her presence commanding without effort, her gaze fixed upon the young man standing before her.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause.
Nova—standing in that unfamiliar body, wrapped in torn fabric that barely qualified as clothing—felt exposed under her eyes, not in a crude way, but as though she could see through the fragile layer of calm he was desperately trying to maintain. The ripped shirt clung loosely to his frame. Threads torn unevenly across his chest and shoulder, revealing pale skin that caught the moonlight in a way that made him seem almost unreal, like a sculpture carved too carefully by fate.
The woman's long red hair stirred gently as the night wind slipped through the ruins, flowing freely like slow-burning flames, and when her amber-gold eyes widened—just slightly—it was not out of surprise alone, but something closer to disbelief.
He was beautiful. Not in the cultivated, polished way nobles usually were, nor in the hardened. Weathered manner of mercenaries or soldiers, but with a raw, unguarded perfection that felt almost wrong in a place like this. Even standing still, confused and tense, he looked like someone who did not belong among broken walls and rotting stone.
She swallowed, her throat tightening for reasons she did not immediately allow herself to consider.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned her gaze toward the broad man standing beside her.
"This," the man said promptly, sensing her attention and straightening his posture, "is the boy we found inside the Hales Forest, ma'am."
His voice was steady, respectful, the practiced tone of someone accustomed to answering to authority without question. He gestured subtly toward Nova, as if presenting evidence rather than a person.
The woman's eyes returned to Nova at once.
Her gaze traced him again—his posture, the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the way his golden eyes flickered with restrained confusion and wariness. She noticed how his hands trembled faintly at his sides, how his breathing was controlled but shallow, as though he were standing on the edge of something he did not understand.
"And you didn't even give him proper clothes?" she said calmly, her voice smooth and composed, yet edged with unmistakable displeasure.
The words were light, but the authority behind them was not.
The man stiffened.
"M-my lady," he replied quickly, lowering his head slightly, "we found him like that. He was unconscious when we brought him in. We didn't think—"
She clicked her tongue softly, cutting him off.
"You didn't think," she repeated, stepping forward, her boots echoing faintly against the stone floor. "That much is clear." Nova's breath caught without his permission.
As she approached, the air itself seemed to shift. This was no ordinary noblewoman—he could feel it instinctively. The same way one sensed danger long before it struck.
Her movements were measured, controlled, each step deliberate, carrying the quiet confidence of someone who had never needed to raise her voice to be obeyed.
'Noble…' he thought grimly.
In his previous life, nobles had been among the most dangerous people to deal with—smiling while plotting your downfall, offering help that came with chains attached. And now, reborn into this world, stripped of power and certainty, he stood before one again.
The man cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"What's your name, boy?" he asked, stepping forward half a pace, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The question struck like a blade.
Pain exploded behind Nova's eyes, sharp and sudden, forcing a gasp from his lips as his vision blurred violently. He staggered, one hand flying instinctively to his temple as his mind was assaulted by memories that were not his own.
A cold wind howled past his ears.Heavy boots thundered behind him, step pounding like a death sentence drawing closer. Steel clashed somewhere in the darkness. Shouts tore through the night.
"Stop him!"
"Don't let him escape!"
A narrow mountain path stretched endlessly before him, slick with rain and blood. Twisting along the cliffside like a cruel test designed to break the weak.
His lungs burned as he ran with everything he had, breath tearing painfully from his chest while fear clawed at his heart like a living thing. The terror of the body's original owner flooded through him—young, desperate, hunted—his pulse racing wildly as he pushed himself far beyond exhaustion, driven by nothing but the instinct to survive.
Then the cliff appeared. The ground vanished beneath his feet. Far below, a roaring river raged in the darkness, black and merciless, its violent currents swallowing all sound but their own fury.
There was no choice for him now, so he decided to leap toward the cliff. As he falls downward and then in a river below. And then the pain. And then, darkness.
Nova sucked in a sharp breath as the memories shattered apart, fragments dissolving into nothing as the vision collapsed inward. A dull, throbbing ache lingered behind his eyes, heavy and persistent, leaving behind a single, burning truth. A name.
It surfaced with startling clarity, etched into his mind as though it had always been there.
'Euris.'
He lifted his head slowly, forcing his breathing to steady even as sweat gathered along his brow.
"…Euris," he said softly, as though speaking it aloud might anchor him to reality. "My name is Euris."
The woman's expression shifted—only slightly—but Nova noticed. The cold authority in her eyes softened, replaced by something more contemplative, something faintly human.
The man, however, remained unconvinced.
He studied Euris carefully now, his sharp gaze flicking over every detail—the fear lingering openly in his expression.
The unguarded confusion clouding his eyes, the subtle slump of his shoulders as though even standing required effort.
For someone who looked like this, that fear made him seem almost harmless. Almost fragile.
"And how did you end up in Hales Forest?" the man asked, his voice firmer now, patience thinning.
Nova's thoughts raced.
'I didn't know anything about myself, what and how happened. You fucking bastard. Whatever I want, say nothing. Just Play dumb.'
He had lived long enough in his previous life to understand that ignorance—real or feigned—was sometimes the strongest shield, especially when facing those who held power.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands to his head, fingers digging into his hair as though the question itself caused unbearable pain.
"I… I don't know," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Then he screamed.
The sound ripped through the broken room, raw and desperate. As Nova or can say Euris collapsed to the floor, clutching his head with both hands. His body curled inward, shaking violently as he cried out again and again, his voice cracking with each word.
"It hurts—! It hurts—!"
The performance was flawless, too flawless.
The man's patience snapped. "Enough!" he snarled, stepping forward as his hand rose instinctively, anger twisting his features. "Stop pretending, brat, and answer—"
'Smack.'
The sound echoed sharply.
The man staggered backward, shock freezing him in place as pain exploded across his face. Blood sprayed, a broken tooth clattering against the floor as his eyes widened in disbelief.
Silence crashed down like a crushing weight. The woman stood there, her hand still raised, her expression cold, composed, and utterly unyielding.
"Do not touch him," she said quietly. The authority in her voice was absolute. The man swallowed hard, his anger evaporating instantly as he bowed deeply, blood dripping from his lip.
"My apologies, Viscount Ethral," he said hoarsely. "I overstepped."
Nova peeked through half-lidded eyes, his screaming fading into uneven breaths as he watched the scene unfold. He hadn't expected this—hadn't expected her to intervene so decisively.
Ethral knelt beside him without hesitation, the hem of her coat brushing against the dusty floor as she reached out and took his trembling hand.
Her grip was firm and warm.
"You're safe," she said softly, her voice low and steady. "No one will harm you."
Before he could react, she slipped one arm beneath his knees and the other behind his back, lifting him with surprising ease. Nova stiffened instinctively, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, by the faint scent of fire and something floral that clung to her, by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath layers of fine fabric.
"I'm taking him with me," she said as she rose smoothly to her feet. "He will come under my protection."
The man hesitated.
"My lady—"
She reached into her coat, pulled out a heavy pouch, and tossed it toward him without even looking. It struck his chest with a solid thud.
"Fifty gold coins," she said coolly. "That should be sufficient compensation for him."
Her gaze flicked briefly to his face, sharp and unapologetic. "And for your bloodied face and broken teeth."
The man nodded immediately. "Of course," he said, bowing deeply. "I thank you for your generosity."
Nova's mind reeled.
'A Viscount…'
Of all the people fate could have placed before him in this fragile new life, it had thrown him directly into the path of a high-ranking noble.
Ethral turned and walked out of the room, carrying him with steady steps as the night air greeted them and moonlight washed over the ruins. Outside, a carriage awaited—its polished black body adorned with elegant golden designs etched like flowing sigils. Even without understanding the crest on its door, its authority was unmistakable.
Two tall white horses stood harnessed at the front, their immaculate coats gleaming faintly as muscles shifted beneath skin. They snorted softly, steam curling from their nostrils as they waited.
Ethral placed Nova gently inside the carriage, adjusting him on the cushioned seat before stepping back.
As the door closed, shutting out the night, Nova leaned against the seat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his thoughts spiraled.
Whatever awaited him now, one truth was undeniable—
His second life had begun.