I guess… this is really how I go out, huh?
The ceiling above me is bare, a dull, blank canvas that has watched me with quiet indifference for the past few days. Or maybe it's been weeks.
Time's lost meaning.
My body feels like it's made of lead, every breath shallow and ragged.
The weight of the world or perhaps, the weight of my sins sits heavy on my chest.
A hand rests against mine. Warm. Soft. Familiar. I turn my gaze, and there she is.
Lily.
Even now, at the edge of death, she manages to smile. A smile so gentle, so heartbreakingly tender it could make a grown man cry.
Well… I was that grown man.
"I guess… I couldn't avenge Mathilda after all,"
I rasp, my voice barely a whisper, more a ghost of sound than speech.
My throat burns, dry and brittle, and every word feels like it might be my last.
"I'm sorry, Lily…"
She squeezes my hand. "Elias… you don't have to carry that burden anymore. Please… rest, for me. For Mathilda. She's waiting for you, you know?"
Her voice… it's too soft. Too beautiful for this cruel world. The kind of voice that could ease the pain of a dying man, lull him to sleep with the promise of peace.
Tears blur my vision.
I hate crying.
I stopped crying thirty years ago.
I buried my heart alongside Mathilda, and I promised myself I'd never shed another tear for this wretched world.
But Lily… she always had a way of breaking through the walls I built.
"Goodbye, Lily," I croak.
She smiles again, though I can see the sorrow beneath it. She's trying to be strong for me, like she always has.
"Goodbye, Elias," she whispers.
And just like that… everything fades.
Darkness. Silence. No pain. No regrets. No burdens.
Just… nothing.
Then,
A sharp gasp tears from my throat.
My eyes fly open, and for a moment, I'm weightless, as if I've been yanked out of a bottomless pit. I expect to see that same blank ceiling, Lily's tearful smile… but neither is there.
Instead, a room.
A room I haven't seen in decades.
The creaky bed with its threadbare sheets, the old wooden desk scarred with knife marks and ink stains, the small window with its rusted latch overlooking a narrow street.
My heart stutters in my chest.
"No…" I whisper.
I scramble to my feet, my joints moving with ease too easily. The cold weight of old age, the aches of countless battles, the numbing pain of grief… gone.
I'm… young.
My hands tremble as I pick up the old newspaper resting on the desk. The faded ink smudges slightly beneath my fingers as I scan the date.
September 17, 1934.
The day I turned fifteen.
For a moment, my mind is blank. My pulse pounds in my ears, and my stomach churns.
This… this isn't possible.
Am I dreaming? Is this the afterlife? Some cruel illusion meant to torment me before I finally find peace? Is it heaven? Hell? A purgatory shaped by my memories?
It has to be.
There's no way I… went back in time.
But as the seconds drag on, the oppressive weight of this reality presses down on me. The feel of the wooden floor beneath my feet, the sharp scent of ink and dust in the air, the distant sound of a market vendor shouting outside too vivid. Too real.
My fingers clench around the newspaper.
Regression.
I'd read about this kind of thing before. In those webnovels I used to sneak from the town's library as a kid. Stories where the main character dies only to wake up in their younger body, granted a second chance to right their wrongs and change their fate.
But those were just stories… weren't they?
I sit heavily on the edge of the bed, my mind a storm of questions.
Why was I brought back? Who did this? Was it the work of the system? A god? Some forgotten entity seeking entertainment in my misery?
Or worse… maybe my entire life up to now was the illusion, and this is the true world.
A cold sweat breaks out across my back. The room seems to close in around me.
No.
This isn't a dream. It's not an illusion.
I can feel it in my bones the undeniable pull of fate threading through every breath, every heartbeat.
This is real.
A grin, small and unsteady at first, tugs at my lips.
A book, written just for me.
A story with my name on its cover.
Elias Troum.
A second chance.
My heart pounds with exhilaration, and a single name echoes through my mind.
Mathilda.
Oh, my dearest… my beloved Mathilda.
I clench my fists as a surge of heat rushes through me.
Rage wells up from the depths of my soul, hot and suffocating. The memory of her death her final, trembling smile, the blood staining her dress, the despair in her eyes as the system stripped away my one hope of salvation burns brighter than ever.
In my past life, I lived with nothing but sorrow. Every path I walked was one the system had rigged to see me broken, defeated, hollow. It stripped me of my loved ones, destroyed my hopes, and cursed every step I took toward becoming a Reverent — the elite few who wielded power beyond mortal reach.
I was meant to fail.
Meant to suffer.
Meant to die.
And in the end, I did.
Thirty years… wasted.
Thirty years of clawing my way forward, emotionless and numb, only to be killed by a curse the system embedded within me.
But now…
Now, the rules have changed.
I don't know if this is a blessing or a crueler curse in disguise, but I don't care. It doesn't matter if this world is against me I'll burn it to the ground if I must.
A knock rattles the door.
My head snaps up.
And then, something strange.
A shadow seeps through the crack beneath the door. Not cast by light, but solid. Tangible. A living thing, like a sentient blot of ink slithering its way into my room.
Even after everything, I can't help the chill that runs down my spine.
I wasn't even surprised considering the fact I'd just returned decades into my past, what was one more absurdity?
But… who was this?
The shadow thickens, taking on a vague, humanoid shape. It looks almost… sleepy. Like some kind of eepy, lazy figure who doesn't quite belong in the waking world.
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can utter a word, a voice echoes through the room. A voice neither male nor female, ancient and young, gentle and cruel.
"Welcome… to your first dream, Elias Troum. May luck be with you."
The words settle in the air like a curse.
And just like that, everything changed.
Forever.