Chapter 1

Log

– I've never met anyone as patriotic as you.

This was something Logan often heard from his comrades as he traveled the world for the independence movement.

But his response was always the same.

– Patriotism, my ass...

To those who were taken aback, he had only one thing to say.

– It's just revenge.

Most people nodded at this.

Others interpreted it as revenge for losing their country, which in a different sense was patriotism.

In reality, it was completely different, but he didn't bother to explain.

It wasn't a story he could proudly tell.

A prodigal son exiled from his family for the sins of his youth.

It took him over ten years of hardship in the world to realize how pitiful he had been.

But by the time he felt remorse and regret, it was far too late.

When he finally reached the end of his journey to beg for forgiveness, he faced his burning family, and with tears of blood, he vowed revenge.

Revenge for his family.

And...

Revenge for taking away even the chance to beg for forgiveness.

He couldn't remember which came first, lost in the flow of time.

Just.

– One more, just a little more.

Day by day.

Regretting the past.

Living on with a single purpose.

A life where living itself was a trial.

When he finally felt that this burdensome life was coming to an end.

A miracle happened.

In the first chapter, he had a dream.

Memories of his happy childhood.

The wretched times when he was consumed by jealousy and committed evil deeds.

The regret he felt when he was finally exiled and wandered.

The war that destroyed his family and the despair he felt watching it.

And the decades of effort for atonement and revenge.

Until the very end.

Of all the moments in his life, the only one that felt right was his final death.

Because he had given the biggest middle finger to the most despicable of the despicable.

But there was one lingering regret that he couldn't shake even in death.

– I should have begged for forgiveness.

While the disaster that he couldn't prevent with his meager strength was one thing, he should have sought forgiveness for the sins he committed.

So he wished for the last time.

Now that he was dead, he hoped to meet his family in the afterlife.

To meet them in a form they could recognize, from that time, and beg for forgiveness.

And at that moment.

Buzz.

“Ugh!”

A sharp headache caused an involuntary groan to escape his lips.

The moment he groaned, he felt something was off.

Pain? Groaning?

‘Am I alive?’

His eyes widened, and he sat up abruptly.

Thump.

“Ugh!”

He clutched his head in pain again.

“Master?!”

“The eldest master has awakened!”

“Inform the elders!”

Amid the commotion, he finally turned his gaze to the surroundings, where familiar yet strange faces came into view.

Stunned by the inexplicable situation, he stared at them.

“Master, are you alright?”

A familiar face he couldn't forget approached.

A young man with brown hair and a playful expression.

Looking into his eyes, which were the same color as his hair, Logan asked blankly.

“...Rick?”

“Yes? Yes, Master. It's me, Rick. How is your body? Uh? Master, your eyes...? C, can you see this?"

The familiar, chatty voice.

His personal attendant, Rick, who had died over thirty years ago, was looking at him with concern.

And he looked exactly the same as he did back then.

“How...?”

“Oh, Master! Call the doctor! They said you'd be fine!"

Confused by the incomprehensible situation, he watched as the surroundings became even more chaotic.

‘What is this...?’

Staring blankly at the surroundings, the scenery he had longed for came into view.

“Ah...?”

The training ground and mansion visible through the window.

The old castle walls in the distance and the glimpses of knights.

Everywhere, the same emblem was engraved.

Flame.

The symbol of the MacLain family.

A humble noble family in the small border kingdom of Grandia, but one he had been immensely proud of.

The longed-for scenery from that time was spread out before him.

‘Is this a dream...?’

Even amidst the surrounding noise, his mind couldn't grasp the reality, and he stared blankly at the scenery outside the window.

Buzz!

“Ugh!”

“Master? Can you see this?! Oh. Our Master! Call the doctor quickly!”

Rick's voice grew louder.

Rick, who had been his personal attendant since childhood, would make a fuss over the slightest movement.

And.

“B, but the doctor said you need to rest, so don't overdo it...”

The maids also joined in Rick's fuss.

Amid the confusion, trying to accept the scene as reality.

Creak.

The door to the recovery room opened cautiously.

“Hey, Brother. Are you alright?”

Despite the turmoil in his mind, he couldn't ignore the voice and turned his head.

The slightly ajar door.

A young boy with chubby cheeks, still not fully grown, cautiously peeked in.

The boy's red hair and eyes were identical to Logan's.

“...Ronian?”

His younger brother, who, with monstrous talent, had defeated him in just three years of sword training, after Logan had trained for ten years to become a knight.

A brother he once cursed and envied endlessly.

And in his later years, a brother he felt immensely sorry for and missed.

‘Is this...?’

Buzz!

“Ugh!”

“Master! You need to rest.”

“Master, go back.”

Another sudden headache made him clutch his head, and Rick blocked the door, hurriedly sending Ronian away while constantly checking his reaction.

Seeing this, Logan felt a sense of déjà vu.

His bandaged head and the pain.

And Ronian's youthful face.

The familiar feeling finally brought up old memories.

If this was really reality, then it was now.

‘The first official sparring match...’

The day when the self-loathing and inferiority he had accumulated over three years reached its peak amidst the knights' and retainers' surprise.

He had spewed insults at his brother, who had come to his sickbed.

– Get lost! Bastard, how dare you...!

It was a continuation of the bullying and insults that had gone on for three years.

But those words also made his brother, who had followed him despite all the bullying, stop coming to see him.

And in his later years, he regretted this moment until the end.

So he was even more confused.

‘Is this another dream? Or do you dream even in death? And this pain...’

“Grunn...”

But he couldn't just stay like this.

‘If this is a dream, or rather, if it is a dream, even more so.’

As he had wished for decades.

Even if it might be futile, he wanted to ease his conscience.

“It's fine. Ron, come in.”

“Master?”

“Alright. Come here, Ronian MacLain.”

The boy's expression brightened.

“Brother, I'm really sorry. I should have been more careful...”

Ronian, who had rushed to Logan like the wind, stood in front of his bed and bowed repeatedly.

His short stature for his age.

His innocent face and even more kind nature.

A boy who felt truly sorry for something that could easily happen during sparring.

The past self who had envied and resented such a boy seemed ridiculous.

“It's fine. I'm fine. You don't need to keep apologizing.”

The boy's flustered expression as he tousled his hair, the warmth he felt in his hands, felt so real.

So, he wanted to say what he couldn't in his previous life.

“You didn't do anything wrong. Not at all.”

“B, but...”

“On the contrary, I...”

He wanted to keep smiling and talking, but he couldn't.

The memories after that day came to mind.

The things he did to his brother, who was stripped of his heir status, placed under indefinite house arrest, and eventually exiled from the family.

The memories were filled with nothing but regret.

“I'm s... I... Cough.”

“...Brother?”

Thinking it was a dream, the lump in his throat brought up past, or rather, future memories.

‘This boy, he died like that.’

His brother led the family in place of their father, who had passed away early in the imperial war, and fought on the front lines as ordered by the kingdom.

This caused the already declining family's power to dwindle even further.

The royal family took advantage of the family's efforts to block the imperial army and fled to another country.

In the end, the boy was captured by the empire, tortured, and publicly executed.

He was thoroughly used and died a miserable death.

This must not happen.

Absolutely not.

With a lump in his throat, he pulled his brother into a hug, and his hands naturally tightened.

“I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry.”

The words of atonement he couldn't say in his previous life.

The pain in his heart turned into tears.

“Hey, Brother? Why are you crying...”

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

There were many things he wanted to say, but only one word came out.

The large young man cried endlessly.

And the small boy, who was sobbing in turn, patted the back of his much larger brother with his small hands.

Thus, a short yet long time passed.

– I'll come again, Brother.

Ronian, who left with a smile.

The scene where everyone who had watched was surprised.

He prayed with a fervent wish.

If this is not a dream, if I really went back in time.

I want to change everything.

And he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again.

Logan silently rejoiced, knowing he was still alive in the past.

* * * The warm sunlight shining through the window.

The chirping of birds brought a refreshing breeze.

Logan, who had woken up and sat up in bed, looked down at his body in disbelief.

There were no scars from his ten years as a mercenary and twenty years in the independence movement, and his knees, which often ached in the morning, were perfectly fine.

“...This isn't a dream.”

Decades of memories.

And the last moment.

– Where is the holy relic?!

– How dare you, the empire's treasure!

– Let's die together!

Boom!

Shudder.

The pain of his body being torn apart was vividly remembered.

Yet, he was clearly alive.

Shudder.

His fists clenched involuntarily, and a shiver ran through his body.

The past he so desperately wanted to change.

The opportunity to change everything had come.

Of course, there were unresolved questions.

‘How did this happen?’

It was something that shouldn't be possible in the real world.

The realm of time and space is considered the domain of the Creator, who no longer interferes with the world in theology.

If he started telling people he came from the future...

‘At best, I'd be treated as a madman. At worst, I'd be arrested by the church for blasphemy.’

But what is this situation now?

“Damn...”

The only thing he could guess.

‘That explosion. It was stronger than I thought. But...’

Dying in an explosion and going back in time, does that even make sense?

He had seen hundreds of people die in similar ways on the battlefield.

Surely, they didn't all go back in time. It's absurd.

‘Grunn...’

No matter how long he pondered, he couldn't find an answer.

Finally.

“...Let it go.”

He deliberately spoke aloud to shake off the pointless thoughts.

If he couldn't find an answer after thinking hard, he wouldn't dwell on the problem.

One of the life lessons he learned from rolling in the thorns for decades.

It was time to think about what he needed to do now.

The first thing to do was...

Creak.

“Hmm?”

“Eek! M, Master!”

At that moment, a maid who had cautiously opened the door met his eyes.

The maid, who had frozen like a statue, soon trembled and bowed deeply.

“M, Master, please forgive me.”

“Hmm? Why are you doing that?”

He asked, finding the maid's reaction strange, but her face turned even paler.

“I'm sorry! I'll be more careful next time!”

What?

What exactly was she sorry for? Confused, he couldn't think of what to say.

And in the meantime, Rick rushed in with a thud.

“Oh. Our Mary woke Master up. I forgot to remind her. I'm sorry, Master.”

Rick, who blocked the maid and gestured her back, looked very familiar.

And seeing this, the memories he had forgotten came back.

– I told you not to make noise in my room! Are you ignoring me, too?! I'll show you!

Bang!

– Scream!

– Master! Please!

“Ugh.”

The scenes that came to mind like a hallucination, along with the throbbing headache.

The small acts of cruelty he had committed, overshadowed by his major sins, came back to him one after another.

Thump.

The headache moved to his chest.

His face turned red with embarrassment.

“Sigh.”

“Come on, Master. I'll take care of this child. Don't get excited...”

“No, that's not it. Mary... is it?”

“Oh, for goodness' sake. Girl, come and apologize quickly!”

Seeing Rick's reckless behavior, his face grew even hotter.

“Stop!”

“No, Master. I'll handle it...”

“Stop it. The maid didn't do anything wrong!”

“Yes. So, I, yes? What did you just say?”

Sigh.

A sigh escaped involuntarily.

“No, forget it. Rick, bring me paper and a pen. As much paper as possible.”

“...Yes?”

“Didn't you hear me?”

“No, I mean, what are you going to do to Mary with paper and a pen...”

“...I won't! Just let her go! Just bring them!”

His face felt like it was about to burst from the heat.

The start of his new life was not as smooth as he had hoped.