“Master, you’re finally awake!” he exclaimed in joy, seeing the young lord open his eyes for the first time in nearly a week.

“Where am I?” he asked, when he heard a voice calling to him. He tried to look, but his blurred vision only showed the silhouette of a person. “Who are you? Where’s Nasir and Tariq?”

“Tariq? Who’s Nasir, master?” asked the confused voice. “It’s me, Bran.”

“Bran…” he kept repeating the name, thinking. He didn’t know any Bran. More accurately, the only Bran he knew died a long time ago; Dhi’b killed him. He instantly froze. “Oh, please don’t say I’m in hell. This has to be paradise, right? I always give alms to the poor. I’ve been a good boy.” Suddenly, he recalled the mountain of corpses he killed before he died. “No, I’m totally in hell!”

“Master! Master, are you alright?!” Bran asked, panicking when he heard the young lord yell some nonsense. Not knowing what to do, he shook him hard to bring him back to his senses.

“Hey, stop! You f*cking bastard, that hurts,” he exclaimed, his vision slowly returning. The first thing he saw was the big face of a boy with teary eyes. He instantly recognized that face, slowly saying the name, “Bran?”

The boy gazed at him, smiling his goofy smile. “Yes, young master Elysian. It's me, Bran.”

Elysian froze, tears starting to fall from his eyes. Slowly, memories of past regrets came flooding into his confused mind.

~ ~ ~

”I’ve been loyal to you for my entire life,” Bran cried while blood was dripping from his face. “Why did you do it? Why did you kill Pa?! He devoted his life to your family—to you! He treated you like a son.”

Elysian’s hand trembled, holding a sword on the kneeling servant’s neck.

“A son?” Lysander scoffed at the words as if they were some kind of joke. “A servant treating a baron’s son as his own? You’re delusional. Peasants who do not know their place are better off dead. Nephew, kill him!”

Elysian just looked at his uncle; his eyes were starting to water. Even though he had ordered others killed before, he never did it with his own hands. So he just stood there and did not know what to do.

“What are you doing?!” his uncle shouted, getting angry at him. “You are the heir of this house. It’s your duty to punish vermin like this. You should set an example so others won’t make the same mistake.”

“But uncle!” he protested. Before he could finish his words, Bran sprang up and pushed him to the ground. In surprise, he thrust his sword forward, piercing the servant’s heart. Elysian let go of the sword and froze, realizing what he had done. As the servant was falling on him, he saw his dying eyes full of hatred.

Elysian suddenly screamed and cried, trying to get the servant’s huge body off him.

His uncle laughed loudly. “You did a good job, nephew. You did a good job. You’re finally a man!”

~ ~ ~

“Master, why are you crying?” he asked, worried. “Wait, I’ll call the doctor…”

Elysian suddenly grabbed the older boy and hugged him. “Don’t, you big oaf. I’m fine.”

Bran froze, shocked by his master’s sudden display of kindness. It was the first time that he had been treated well. He would often insult him when he was in a foul mood. Sometimes, he would even beat him. However, he never held any grudges against Elysian. He knew that it was his fault. He was not intelligent enough to do his job right. Even his father criticized him for serving the young master poorly. However, Bran believed that if he tried his best and showed his loyalty, one day his master would see his worth and be good to him.

They stayed like that for a while until Elysian asked, “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“A dream?” asked Bran, confused. “Ugh!” He was surprised when the young lord suddenly pinched him.

“Sorry, I’m just checking if this is real,” he said, pinching himself. “Definitely not a dream.” The first thought that crossed his mind was the necklace that shone when he died.

‘I can’t believe the necklace brought me back. How is that even possible? There are truly many mysteries in this world. I owe that old woman for this opportunity. In this life, I’m determined to rectify my mistakes. I can’t believe I’ve actually returned. F*ck, I’ve actually returned! This is real!’

“This is real! I’m back!” Elysian suddenly screamed in pure joy from the top of his lungs.

His sudden action made Bran recoil in panic. Suddenly, the maids entered the room, retreating quickly, afraid they would be in trouble from their temperamental lord.

“What year is it?” he asked, panting heavily after all his shouting.

“6569 of the Imperial Calendar, master. The third month of spring,” the servant said, regarding him oddly.

“Hmm, then I'm ten this year,” he nodded.

“Is father away on an expedition?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good…Good. Thank you,” he said, expressing his gratitude with a smile. Bran froze, instantly grinning back. “You’re welcome, master.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Elysian slowly rose, but he couldn’t. He realized that he was still too weak to stand on his own. “Can you help me, Bran?”

“Of…Of course, master,” the servant said, nearly stumbling while moving to his side.

“Be careful,” he sighed, remembering how Bran was. He carefully observed the boy, trying to recall what he knew about him.

‘In the past, I often insulted the boy and even beat him because of his mistakes. One could say he isn’t the brightest of the bunch; lacking common sense, he's very clumsy—in short, simple. On the positive side, he’s loyal to a fault and has an excessively cheerful personality.

Hmm. Physically, he’s also huge, at least six feet tall with a sturdy build, and I’m sure that’s not all fat. Moreover, he’s only thirteen years old, making him the tallest boy I’ve ever seen—excluding other races, of course. Physically, he’s better suited to be a soldier than a lowly attendant.

Why did he even become a servant?’

“Sorry, master.” Bran hung his head in disappointment, waiting to be reprimanded again.

Elysian chuckled, shaking his head. Having traveled back in time, he found the action of the oversized boy quite cute. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Cheer up! Next time, be more careful, okay? Or you’ll hurt yourself.”

The servant just stared at him for a moment, surprised by the young lord’s reaction, before giving his trademark goofy smile, forgetting what just happened.

“Hey, come a little closer,” he said, grabbing Bran’s arm and slowly standing up. “Good. Now, slowly walk with me.”

The two of them slowly walked outside the room. The first thing he noticed was how terrified the maids were when they saw him. None of them even spoke unless asked. Some even hid when they thought he did not see them. No one asked about his health. He suspected that some were not even happy that he had woken up. In short, he was a horrible person. He already knew about this, but experiencing this from the point of view of an adult with empathy versus a cruel and arrogant child was entirely different. He felt even more terrible about himself. So he tried to smile at anyone who was brave enough to meet his eyes while attempting to engage in small talk with them. He received only curt replies, but it was a start.

As they continued their walk, they reached the entrance of the library. Upon opening the door, the familiar scene unfolded—high ceilings, shelves occupying every corner, and the tables and chairs arranged in the same way. The only difference was the lack of blood on the floor. This had been his father’s favorite place, ranking just below the training ground.

Painful memories were deeply ingrained in this place.

~ ~ ~

“Father! Father!” Elysian shouted, rushing to his father, who was on the floor, unconscious, with blood all over his face. “Help! Help! Father!” No matter how much he screamed, no one came. So he rose and ran to find some servants and call a doctor. As he exited the room, he saw his uncle standing outside with his personal guards behind him.

“What happened?” Lysander asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Father is on the floor,” he said as panic took over him. “There’s blood everywhere!”

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” his uncle said, kneeling in front of him and looking him in the eyes. “Listen to me, Elysian. There’s an assassin on the loose. I need you to stay in your room as we hunt him down.”

“But father…”

“Don’t worry, I already called the doctor. He’ll be fine.”

“But..”

“There’s no ‘but,’ nephew.” His uncle’s voice took on a more stern edge. “You have to be strong now. Your sister is in your room. Go there and protect her, okay?”

“O…Okay.”

“Good. Good, what a nice and obedient child.” Lysander smiled, signaling some of his soldiers to get his nephew.

Elysian looked at the body of his father one last time as the guards dragged him to his room.

~ ~ ~

“Let’s go. I have somewhere I need to go,” he said, trying to hold back his tears. They continued strolling around the house. Each step brought forth memories, mostly painful ones from the past. Despite that, he forced himself to move forward, taking one step at a time, until he stood beneath the big old oak tree in the garden. There, he saw the resting place of his mother amidst her favorite flowers—Myosotis. He looked at it for a moment before dropping to his knees, tears flooding his eyes.

“Mother, I'm home.”

~ ~ ~

“You useless piece of trash! I’m ashamed that you carry a drop of my blood.” Baron Thornwick angrily hurled a cup beside the kneeling Elysian, who cried in silence, attempting to control his anger.

“Father, stop!” Aldric shouted, trying to calm his father. “He’s still young; he’ll learn. Just give him a little time.”

“Young?” the baron laughed. “When you’re his age, you have already accomplished many things.”

Gritting his teeth, Elysian hated being compared to his brother.

“He’s just a spoiled brat who knows nothing but to eat and sleep. Useless!” The Baron said in disgust. “Why can’t you be like your brother?”

That finally did it. Even though he was afraid of his father, he could no longer control his anger. Standing up, he shouted, “Brother?! What brother? He’s not your true son; I am. I know you wanted him to be your heir instead of me. But his real father is a much better fighter than you. You should be blaming your own bloodline for producing a defective son, not me.”

“You now dare to talk back to me, boy! Do you want to be beaten again?”

Elysian stepped back at the threat, but driven by anger, he stood his ground. “Why? Does the truth hurt? Or, perhaps it’s the truth that you blame me for the death of your beloved wife?!”

“You better shut up! I’m warning you!”

“Brother, stop!”

“I know you’re just making excuses by comparing me to someone like him. You just wanted to blame me. You wanted to hurt me for killing my mother.”

Baron Thornwick finally had enough, slapping Elysian in the face with such force that it sent him sprawling to the ground. “I told you to shut up!”

Elysian glared at his father with hate, storming out of the room. He ran and ran until he found himself kneeling on his mother’s grave.

“I should be the one who died instead of you. Why did you even give birth to me for you to just die? Why, mother? Why?!” He poured out all his anger there and wept.

~ ~ ~

“Young master, it’s raining. You’ve just recovered. Perhaps it’s better to head back inside?” Bran asked, but his words were met with silence. The young lord remained kneeling. As the rain intensified, the servant went inside, fetching a large coat and draping it over his master to protect him from the rain.

Elysian kneeled in front of his mother’s grave for hours in silence.

As the sky started to get dark, a maid hurried towards them and said, “Young master! Lord Lysander is inside, asking for you.”

Elysian’s expression suddenly changed; his eyes sharpened to a dangerous edge.