1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

As soon as he woke up, the sugary smell of wine permeated his nose; empty bottles decorated the surroundings creating a sickening view. One that he hoped he wouldn't ever see again.

Alas...

Here he was.

"..."

It didn't matter how many times he repeated this process the impotence he felt getting up from his bed only grew stronger. At this point looking at the mirror as soon as he woke up was a habit, a sign that he didn't screw up.

"Hah… again."

A pair of Aquamarine-eyes looked back at him. Its owner, a handsome man in his twenties, had a petulant expression on his face, though it would be more accurate to say it was his natural appearance.

It was rare to see the color of his wavy hair on this side of the continent; Aquamarine, was known as a color reserved solely to the royalty of Otresh, the great suzerains of the northern coast.

"Pfft"

Suzerains of the northern coast… What a joke.

"Oh great god, why do you make me suffer..?"

He didn't receive an answer, but that much was expected. God didn't answer him in his last ten lives; why would he do now?

Tired, he sighed, sitting on the dressing table that reflected his appearance.

"Now, what should I do?"

He asked no one in particular, tapping his fingers on the table.

'Should I escape?'

"Impossible." That was the conclusion he reached after trying three times in a row. Well, that's considering he wanted to maintain the remainder of his sanity.

Ignoring the fact of how hard it was to escape a kingdom soon to be shrouded in a war, he had a rather rare appearance to be conspicuous. Shaving his hair wouldn't help, the only thing that would work was disfiguration. And it hurt a lot.

While the pain wasn't a problem, the fact he had no people on his side was. So that option was already ruled out.

'Maybe send my sisters to marry the enemy Khan?'

Hah. The first time he went forward with that plan he was stabbed in his sleep. And on the second time, the Khan got so offended that he razed the country even quicker than ever before.

Though to this day he still had no idea why that happened, his sisters were quite the beauties after all. 'Well, the reason doesn't matter.' He concluded, tying his hair in a rather plain ponytail.

'Perhaps I should fight against the enemy?'

'Hilarious.' Even if he won the war with the measly chances he had, he would gain nothing from it. Worse. What would be waiting for him at the end was not gold nor glory, it would be something that sent shivers down his spine.

Hell would come to this continent very soon; that was one of the things his last life taught him. And he wouldn't be dumb enough to defy it. At least not for now.

'Change my image and be a 'good' king?'

"…"

It could be a good idea… But was also hopeless.

For starters, his reputation was tarnished beyond reason and unfortunately, it was ruined for a good reason. If he only came back earlier maybe he could change things but at this time it was impossible to erase what he had done in the past.

Perhaps with time things would change for the better, ironically, time was always what he lacked the most. A humorous thought coming from an immortal.

'But maybe...'

If somehow he could clear things up using his knowledge of the future, maybe… just maybe, he would be able to save this continent and most importantly save himself.

And while at it, he would try to not be a complete shame for those who once trusted in him.

<'I'm sure you would be an awesome king, Pasha, what you did in the past doesn't matter! We all make mistakes, don't we?'> - <'Huh? Why are you crying? Come on man, you don't need to thank me for that, aren't we friends?' >

Besides, he had promised Yoram he would be a better king if he had a chance. The thought that his friend wouldn't ever be able to see if he could make it was sad. But this wasn't the time to be a sentimental wreck…

It never was.

And that's why he decided to choose his clothing first, and so, he quickly garbed himself in the most majestic clothes he could find. After all, a true king couldn't afford to look poor, could he?

"Handsome."

Besides looks were all he had at this point. 'I forgot, but pink always suited me, didn't it?', he thought, appreciating his own appearance.

"Hah. Being this handsome made me useless, don't you think?"

He muttered looking at the beautifully carved door.

"Ten-"

"Nine-"

"Eight-"

"Seven-"

"Six-"

"Five-"

"Four-"

"Three-"

"Two-"

"One, and there you have it."

And just like it was a scripted move, gentle knocks were heard accompanied by a soothing and even gentler male voice.

"My prin- *Cough* My king, I apologize for interrupting your rest. But a messenger from Wradora requested to meet you urgently."

"My kin-"

"Where is he? Did… you welcome him?"

"..."

His question was followed by a brief silence, the person on the outside clearly hadn't expected him to be awake or so he mused. The silence didn't last long however, as the ever loyal butler on the outside answered quickly.

"Yes my liege, I ordered the servants to lead him to the lounge. But if you deem my actions as unfit, please punish me."

"No. You did well."

"You may enter the chamber."

"... Yes."

As soon as the door opened, he could see the one on the other side. There stood a heavily scarred bald man who seemed to be at the end of his forties as his small mustache showed signs of being grizzled.

Despite having the face of a hardened warrior his soft amber-like-eyes gave a soothing feeling to whoever that looked closely. That combined with the small glasses he wore presented the elder as a kind gentleman.

"Good morning my king-"

The man stopped on his tracks as soon as he looked at him, shock was evident on his face, but that much was expected. After all, why would he, the king, be dressed alone in his room on such a random morning?

"Good morning, Vlasiy. Did you have a good rest?"

He gently questioned the man who had taken care of him since he was a baby.

"... Yes my lord."

"Great."

"..."

"What are you waiting for? Lead the way."

Said the king without even bothering to take a second look at the astonishment of his beloved butler.

"Y-yes my lord," Vlasiy answered, shaken.

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Walking through the castle he lived in for most of his life was more fun than he expected. Yoram was right, when you live away from anything for more than four years it regains some of its marvels.

The hallways where he played as a little kid were the same as always.

The gardens where he drank tea with his mother were just as he remembered.

The church where he prayed with his father was as unholy as ever.

And the portraits of his ancestors judged him as usual. Everything in that castle sent a wave of nostalgia to his body, these were places where he had many memories inside.

All were nostalgic.

Although none were more nostalgic than the throne room where he was once beheaded.

"His majesty, Naum, the first of his name and supreme ruler of the Northern coast graces us with his presence!!!"

Ignoring the fawning words of the announcer he slowly looked at the throne room, walking through the red carpet with his shoulders straight he saw his ministers, minor nobles, and guards. These were the people who led this nation…

And none of them were at his side.

But Naum, the first of his name, would make sure to save his own people.