← I was wrongfully killed, and I was reborn as the youngest member of my enemy's family.# The Rift
The air inside the rift was thick with the smell of earth and iron.
Kaisen lowered the sword in his hand. His fingers could no longer exert force. Even a body that had spent five years in the knight order had its limits. Especially after being inside the rift for this long.
"Traitor."
Simon Cardian's voice rang out. His sword hung above Kaisen's shoulder, poised to strike. There was no room to retreat.
"I did not betray anyone."
Kaisen's voice was cold. He sounded like someone who had already given up. That was half true.
"You are accused of monopolizing Essence. You will stand trial before the kingdom."
That was a lie. Kaisen knew it. Behind Simon stood Valentina Cardian—his mother—and he knew what she wanted.
A trial? There would be no trial.
The sword came down.
---
The pain was brief.
What came instead was light.
The wall of the rift split open. No, that wasn't the right way to describe it. The rift itself opened. What Kaisen saw was not merely a physical change in space. It was as if the world itself were opening its eyes.
"What is...?"
Kaisen stared at that light even as his blood spilled. His fingers moved. Whether by will or against it, with the last strength remaining.
In that moment, a voice came.
It was not words. It was not a voice. It was something inscribed directly into his mind. As if someone had grasped Kaisen's consciousness and whispered something to him.
*"Go back."*
That word was not a command. Not a suggestion either. It sounded almost like a voice from within himself. Yet that was impossible.
*"Remember and go back."*
Kaisen's eyes closed. Simon's sword should have pierced his throat. At least it should have.
But something went wrong.
---
He awoke.
No, "awoke" was not the right word either. Kaisen knew he was dead. The feel of that sword, the taste of blood, and the darkness that followed—all were signs of death.
Yet.
He had a body.
It was far too small. His fingers numbered five, but they all looked thin and weak. The outstretched fingers trembled. Not from fear, but from simple lack of strength.
"...Leon."
Someone whispered. That voice was soft, filled with worry.
Kaisen opened his eyes. He saw a ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling. Made of wood, an expensive ceiling. Intricate patterns were carved into it.
"Thank goodness."
A woman's voice. Kaisen turned his head. The movement was slow. His body was truly weak.
The woman was smiling. Brown hair, warm eyes. Kaisen did not know her.
"Your fever has broken. You should be fine now."
The woman placed her hand on Kaisen's forehead. Her hand was soft. It was warm. Kaisen instinctively moved. He pulled away from her hand.
The woman's face changed in an instant to an expression of hurt.
"...I'm sorry."
Kaisen's voice was that of a small child. It was not his voice. Yet it came from his mouth.
"It's all right. You're not feeling well."
The woman smiled. That smile was not false. It was genuine. But that was not what Kaisen saw. What he saw was the light in her eyes. The calculation hidden behind that gaze.
*'Not the expression of someone entrusted with raising a child.'*
Kaisen thought. His mind remained clear. His memories remained vivid.
"Who... are you?"
Kaisen asked.
The woman stopped smiling.
"I'm Maria. Your tutor." She spoke quietly. "You are Leon Cardian, and this is the Cardian estate."
Cardian.
That name ran through Kaisen's mind like electricity.
His memory should have ended in the rift. Simon's sword should have come down. And everything should have ended.
Yet here he was, alive.
And he had just heard the name of the family that killed him.
Kaisen slowly raised his hand. It was thin and weak, a child's hand. But it was his hand. A hand he could move.
Maria spoke: "Don't move anymore. Your body is weak."
Kaisen did not listen. He raised his hand and pushed away Maria's hand. The movement was weak but deliberate.
"Who... are you?"
Kaisen asked again. This time he asked a different question.
"Have I seen you before?"
Maria's expression hardened.
"...We've never met before."
That answer was a lie. Kaisen could tell immediately. Her eyes wavered upward and to the left. The eyes of someone telling a lie.
Kaisen slowly pushed himself up to sit. His movements were very slow. His body had never been this weak. But his mind remained clear.
"Where... am I?"
"In your bedroom. Your own bedroom."
"My bedroom."
Kaisen repeated those words. And he looked around.
The room was spacious. There were two windows. All the furniture was expensive. The bookshelf appeared full of books, suggesting the room's owner either enjoyed reading or at least pretended to.
And there was a mirror.
Kaisen crawled toward it. His movements were slow. Maria tried to stop him, but Kaisen did not listen.
When he reached the mirror, Kaisen saw his own face.
It was not his face.
Instead, it was the face of a small child. Brown hair, pale complexion, weak-looking eyes. And in the depths of those eyes—
In the depths, there was something.
Kaisen recognized that depth. It was his own depth. Fifty years of his life, all his experiences, all his memories were trapped in those small eyes.
"Do you understand now?"
Maria asked. There was no warmth left in her voice.
"Now you are... Leon Cardian."
Kaisen looked at his reflected face. Something moved in that face. His lips moved.
"I am... Kaisen."
He murmured. That sound was heard by him, and likely by Maria as well. But Maria ignored those words.
"Rest. You're just a child whose fever hasn't fully broken."
Maria spoke, and Kaisen laughed.
It was a very quiet laugh.
And it was a very old laugh.
Or was breaking. Kaisen couldn't judge precisely. His bodily sensations were in chaos. From his fingertips to his head, everything felt foreign. No, "foreign" wasn't the right word. Everything was too small.
He lifted his hand.
It was a child's hand. Earthy-toned skin, slender fingers, even the nails were tiny. His fingers trembled. He couldn't tell if it was from cold or fear. Fifty years of his own body had vanished, and this remained in its place.
The bed was soft. A silk bed. It would be the bed of the wealthiest family in the royal capital. The ceiling was high, the walls white. Morning sunlight streamed through the window. The Cardian mansion's bedroom. He knew this place. Five years ago, the home of those who had killed him.
Maria was sitting there.
On a wooden chair beside the bed. Judging by the gold armrests, it was expensive. The woman was drinking tea. Black dress, white apron. A governess's attire. Her face was calm, as if nursing a feverish child every night was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're awake."
She spoke, setting down her tea. The teacup clinked against the saucer.
Kaisen opened his mouth. His throat was parched. It felt as though he had slept for days. No, not days. It had been far longer. He had died in the Rift. Simon's sword had pierced his chest. After that—
After that came light.
Indescribable light. Something without color, without form. And there was a voice. Not language, yet something that conveyed meaning unmistakably. Where it had taken him, Kaisen did not know.
"Water..."
His voice came out. But it was not his voice. It was clear, weak, childlike. Kaisen momentarily stopped speaking. Each time he heard that voice, reality seemed to crumble.
Maria didn't move. She simply looked at him. There was something in her eyes. Curiosity? No, something more. As if she had been waiting for this moment.
"I'll get you some water."
She stood. Her movements were graceful. The woman picked up a transparent glass from the table. The water was clear. She brought the glass near Kaisen's lips.
Kaisen couldn't drink. The child's body lacked the strength to grip the glass. He opened his mouth and drank. That sensation too felt unfamiliar. The child's tongue, the child's throat, everything about this small body accepted the water.
The water was warm. No, the water itself was cold, but the path it traveled down was warm. As if his body welcomed this water. As if this small body had already endured for days.
"Slowly."
Maria's voice came. It was a warm voice. Warm again. As if that stern tone from before had been an illusion.
Kaisen drank. Enough. As much as his child body could accept.
Then he looked at his hands again.
They trembled. This time not from cold. It was the trembling of awakening. The trembling of waking from death. Or something more.
"Who... are you?"
Kaisen asked. His voice was still unfamiliar. But what lay behind that voice was clear. Fifty years of memories. The intellect of Knight Kaisen. The sense of betrayal he had felt dying within the Rift.
Maria smiled. A small, quiet smile.
"I'm Maria Hellen. Your governess."
"That's a lie."
Kaisen said it. The words carried certainty. They came from a child's voice, but they were the certainty of a knight.
Maria's smile faded. Her eyes changed. As if a mask had been removed. There was something in those eyes. Something deep. Something old.
"I see."
She spoke. And then she smiled again. This time it was a more genuine smile.
"So the child lying in bed possesses that sense. That insight."
Kaisen said nothing. He observed. Maria's movements, her breathing, the flow of her gaze. It was a habit from his days as a knight. A method of detecting danger.
"You already know that your coming here was no accident."
Maria said, settling into the chair. Her posture was relaxed, as if resuming a very old conversation.
"Who... sent you?"
Kaisen asked. His voice already carried command rather than the form of a question.
Maria closed her lips. And slowly, very slowly, she raised her hand. Her hand caught the light. There was something on the back of her hand. A mark of some kind. Like a tattoo.
Kaisen's eyes narrowed.
It was a seal. But not a simple seal. Its color was strange. Nearly silver. And its form... Kaisen had seen it before. In the Rift. Just before that mysterious light appeared, the same form had appeared on his own hand.
"You are..."
Kaisen began to speak.
"I'm just your governess."
Maria lowered her hand. Her voice became warm again. And that made it all the more strange.
"But now we both know you're not Leon Cardian."
The bedroom fell silent. Sunlight still streamed through the window, and birdsong could be heard. A peaceful morning. But beneath that peace, something vast was moving.
Kaisen looked at his hands again. Small hands. A child's hands. But within them still lay a knight's will.
"My name is Kaisen."
He murmured it. The words were for himself. Not for Maria.
Maria heard those words and smiled. It was a very old smile. As if she had been waiting for this moment for decades.
"Then what shall we do from now on?"
She asked. There was no threat in the question. Instead, there was a proposal. Consent.
Kaisen didn't answer. Instead, he looked at the ceiling. The white ceiling. Beyond that ceiling, there would be something. Truth. And revenge.
"First," Kaisen said, "I need to know what I can do with this body."
Maria nodded.
"Then we should begin."
She stood. And she moved toward the door. At the doorway, she turned back and looked at Kaisen.
"Welcome, Kaisen. To your new life."
When those words ended, Kaisen didn't miss the change in Maria's expression. Something glimmered deep in her eyes. Curiosity? Or fear?
Or perhaps both.
Kaisen lay in bed, raising his small child's hand. And he made a fist. There was no strength in it. A child's strength. But within that fist lay fifty years of memories, and within those memories lay murderous intent.
And that intent was far from finished.