Chapter 1

The rhythmic sound of hooves filled the air as two brown horses pulled a carriage wagon. Inside, a white-haired young man in his early thirties, dressed in ragged clothing, leaned against the hard wooden wall with his hands bound. However, the most striking were the bruises and scrapes that covered his entire body, marring his fair skin.

When the chattering sound pricked his ears, the man gradually lifted his eyelashes, revealing dull cerulean eyes. He stared blankly into space before casting an uninterested glance toward the window above him, the bright blue sky was visible, and his mind began to drift along with the clouds.

His parched lips barely parted, murmuring, "Just… What did I do wrong…?"

But before he could dwell on it, the carriage came to a halt and the door swung open with a creak, revealing two knights clad in full-plate armor. Behind them, he saw crowds gathered, their faces twisted with contempt. The abusive remarks he heard on the way grew increasingly louder and more vivid, drowning out any other sound.

"Traitor!" 

"You scum!"

Without a shred of mercy, the knights forcefully pulled him out of the carriage. Just as he stepped outside, something struck his face, causing him to flinch in surprise. The moment the smell of decay stung his nostrils followed by slimy liquid ran down his cheeks, he knew it was a rotten egg.

Before the man could even recover from his astonishment, the knights yanked him forward, forcing him to move. Marching toward the guillotine in the middle of the plaza, the crowd continued to throw rotten eggs and overripe fruits at him relentlessly, all while hurling insults.

"You deserve worse than death!"

"May you rot in hell, you treacherous swine!"

As the onslaught continued, putrid liquids from smashed fruits and rotten eggs cascaded over him, further dirtying his already shabby clothes. The man couldn't help but hang his head low when the feeling of stinging and burning in his eyes became unbearable. 

His whole body began to tremble, and as his throat felt constricted, he bit his lower lip. 'Just… what did I do wrong? Why do I have to go through it all? Am I… not allowed to be happy?' 

Arriving in front of the guillotine, the knights suddenly shoved him, causing his body to lurch and collide with the pavement with a loud thud. The metallic tang of blood bloomed in his mouth, and the tears that had been welling in his eyes ultimately burst forth, hazing his sight.

Somehow… he didn't understand. In his entire life, he always tried to do the best he could, but why did it seem that the world was never on his side, not even for a brief moment? 'Isn't it unfair? Isn't it too much? Why do I have to be born as an unlucky person?'

"Everyone, calm down," a man's voice reverberated into the air, prompting the masses to cease their attacks and jeering, and silence descended. 

Suppressing the pain, the young man forced himself to sit upright and fixed his eyes on the source of the voice. There, on top of a podium stood a white-haired man in his late sixties with a face devoid of any expression, his blue eyes pinning down on him. Dressed in a black suit, it was Count Everhart, his father.

Next to him stood a middle-aged woman with black hair and golden eyes, the Countess—his stepmother. She wore a matching outfit with the Count and held a fan that covered half of her face. Funnily enough, he was pretty sure that behind it, she was smiling from ear to ear, rejoicing that the last obstacle for her son to succeed as the next Count would soon vanish. 

"Julian, do you have any last words?" the Count began, returning Julian's attention to him. 

Locking eyes with the Count's icy gaze, Julian clutched his hands tightly, 'Those disgusting eyes.' It was the same look that had given him ever since he was a child, up until now, and Julian despised it.

The people in the mansion said that the Count loved the late Countess dearly, but unfortunately, she passed away upon giving birth to him. As he grew up, he understood where his father's cold treatment stemmed from, and their relationship worsened due to his inability to awaken his Mana. Since the Everhart family was renowned for their powerful mages, this only deepened the rift between them.

Thinking back, it was funny how he studied and trained relentlessly like a madman despite his tender age, all just for his father to acknowledge him. Yet, no matter how excellent he became in academics and swordsmanship, the Count remained unmoved.

As if the hatred from his father and society weren't enough, his world turned into hell when his stepmother and stepbrother entered the mansion. They constantly bullied him verbally, sometimes even physically, and the residents of the mansion turned a blind eye to it.

"Hahaha…" A dry laugh escaped Julian's mouth, provoking a tumultuous reaction from the crowd.

"Why are you laughing?" The Count's voice cut through the chaos, again silencing the crowd.

Julian let out a wry smile. People said that when someone was on the verge of death, they would reminisce about their most beautiful moments. Then why did his brain continue to replay the most painful memories? Was it because he didn't have a single happy moment in his lifetime?

"How dare you disrespect my father!" A familiar voice boomed through the plaza, drawing everyone's attention. 

Julian turned toward the voice and found a young man who shared the same features as the Countess, glaring at him with intense fury—his stepbrother. "'My father?'" Julian tilted his head in confusion before bursting into laughter. "Caleb, you misspoke. It should have been 'my stepfather'." Since he was going to die, he decided to say whatever came to mind.

Caleb's golden eyes turned feral, and his face reddened matching that of a tomato, "You—!"

"Enough!" The Count's voice thundered, breaking off the tension.

"Tsk," Julian clicked his tongue in annoyance, 'That old man is no fun.' 

Considering Julian's fiancée's constant infidelity with Caleb, coupled with his frequent bullying, Julian at least wanted to rattle Caleb to his core for once.

"Julian, do you have any last words?" The Count asked for the second time.

Holding his father's gaze, Julian nodded, "I do."

"Speak then." The Count demanded.

"…" But instead of answering, Julian just stared at him with an indescribable expression, and his mind flew. 

Six months ago, for the first time, Julian was able to unlock his Mana, thanks to the High Priest's holy power treating him when he was gravely ill. The High Priest also revealed that he had been poisoned with a substance that suppressed his ability to awaken his Mana. 

Although Julian was quite sure who the culprit was, without evidence, he couldn't bring the truth to light. Just when Julian thought his life was about to improve, the Countess framed him for treason, which led to his current predicament.

"Julian?" The Count's voice woke him from his reverie.

The young man let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I will begin."

The Count nodded, "Please."

Julian's cerulean eyes shifted toward the Countess, and the moment their eyes met, he spat his mind, "You've built your house of cards, but it only takes one breath to bring it all down. Enjoy your reign while it lasts."

The Countess' hand, clutching the fan, trembled visibly, and Julian could see the fury boiling beneath her controlled facade. 

"Is that all?" The Count interjected, breaking the silence and redirecting Julian's attention.

Julian's voice remained steady, "Yes." Without further ado, he positioned his head on the lunette, uttering, "I'm ready." He just wanted his suffering to end as soon as possible.

"…" A heavy silence descended upon the plaza as the Count's inscrutable gaze bore into Julian's unwavering eyes. After a brief pause, he eventually gave his order, "Begin the execution." With that, the Count turned around and walked away.

"Yes, Sir!" The executioner, clad in dark robes, stepped forward and prepared to release the blade.

''He left without even bothering to see me until the last second, huh?' Julian watched how the Count's back vanished among the crowd. 'Yeah, whatever.' He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable. 'In the end, the only thing I have is myself. No one is on my side, no one is crying for him, I've got… nothing…'

The crowd's murmurs faded into a distant hum, and in that final moment, Julian felt a strange sense of peace. 'If God does indeed exist, I wish my next life will be filled with happiness.'

The executioner pulled the lever, and with a heavy clunk, the blade descended; its metallic hiss cutting through the air. Then, suddenly, excruciating pain seared through Julian's nape, but before he could even groan, darkness swallowed him whole.

.

.

.

With a sharp gasp, Julian's eyes snapped open and abruptly sat upright. His breath was ragged and sweat trickled down his brow. Amidst his distorted state, he reached for his neck, only to find it unharmed, "Huh?" Julian couldn't help but be bewildered, "What is happening?"

Taking in the surroundings, Julian found himself in a familiar setting—he was currently in his bedroom in the Count's mansion. Despite the jumble of his thoughts, he was certain of his location. The furnishings and décor were unmistakable. But how did he end up here?

Turning to the side, Julian's body tensed when his eyes landed on a mirror, displaying a teenager with white hair and cerulean eyes staring back at him. "Wh-what?"

The reflection was undeniably his, but far younger than he remembered. Julian touched his face and the figure in the glass mirrored his action. It was only then that it dawned on him, "Did I… did I return to the past?"