In my line of work, we never believed in the concept of reincarnation or an afterlife. But that one time, on a stroll through India, an old pandit stopped me in the middle of the road and said, "You better watch out, boy. Karma is coming for you. And she wouldn’t go easy."

I, an arrogant prick as I was, vaguely aware of the notion of Karma, replied dismissively, "Let her. I am ready, always."

Then, with a serious expression, he said, "Not in this life." and walked on. At the time, I thought nothing of it, not taking the pandit's words to heart. But now, facing the bewildering circumstances of my current existence, his cryptic warning echoed in my mind.

In the mirror before me, I saw a different me, someone I couldn't recognize. An obscenely handsome face gazed back at me, with mesmerizing azure eyes that seemed to hold secrets of ages past. Flawless black hair, slightly ruffled, added an air of allure to this new visage. It was a face that exuded confidence and power, unlike anything I had ever known.

The reflection that stared back at me was a stark contrast to the unremarkable countenance I once possessed, which allowed me to effortlessly blend into crowds and go unnoticed. But now, it felt as if I had undergone a profound rebirth into a form that commanded attention and admiration—a face that was anything but ordinary.

"The fuck is this!" I cried out in shock, causing the maid to recoil.

Frantically, I scrutinized my new appearance, not only my face but my entire body. The more I looked, the more frightening it became. I was no longer the person I once was. I had been reincarnated into an entirely different body.

Is this karma? I wondered.

I considered all possibilities, but in the end, the idea of reincarnation made the most sense. Science had not advanced to a point where consciousness could be transferred between bodies, and I knew I wasn't hallucinating. The pain I felt was very much real.

But before I could delve deeper into that thought, the maid interrupted. “Lord, are you not feeling well?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes. I am not well.” I retorted the obvious. “Now, mind telling me, who that guy is?” I pointed at my reflection in the mirror. The maid seemed to know me; she must be aware of my existence before my consciousness leaped between bodies.

“It is you, lord.” She replied.

“Not that.” I clarified. “What is my name? Why do I have this face? And why the heck am I in this sparkly room?”

She looked thoroughly confused at my bombardment of questions. “I do not think you are well, Lord.”

“Just answer me.” I wailed, my patience waning, and the stinging pain in my hands returning.

“You… You are Lord Arwan, the second son of Count Eduart von Willard.” She answered hesitantly, trying her best to provide the information I sought.

“Count, as in the medieval era.” I asked further, trying to wrap my head around the reality I found myself in.

“Yes, Count as in nobility. He is the sole ruler of Seiren.” She confirmed.

“So, are we rich?”

“… Significantly.” The maid's eyes widened slightly at the wealth associated with my noble family.

“Now it all makes sense.” It finally clicked in my head. Those idiots abducted me for my position, to threaten my supposed father for the money he owed.

As I pieced together the fragments of this perplexing puzzle, I couldn't help but wonder what other surprises this life had in store for me. My past self had been an entirely different person, living an unremarkable life. Now, I was thrust into a world of nobility, riches, and a father who seemingly neglected his responsibilities.

“What about my…” I intended to gather more information, but the next second the heavy doors swung open, and a sense of urgency filled the air as half-a-dozen people rushed into the room.

Among them was a mature-looking woman, her tear-filled eyes locking onto mine. A strange sense of recognition washed over me as I noticed the eerie resemblance between her facial features and my new appearance.

Without a moment's hesitation, she rushed towards me, arms outstretched, and embraced me tightly. I sat there, taken aback by the sudden display of affection, unable to fully comprehend the situation.

Her warm embrace felt strangely familiar, as if I had known her my whole life, yet I couldn't recall any memories of this woman. Her presence triggered a deep sense of connection and love, but at the same time, it intensified the mystery surrounding my current situation.

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Who is this woman? Why did she seem so familiar to me?

As she held me close, her voice trembled with emotion. "You're finally back," she whispered, her words barely audible.

“I… you know me?” I asked.

The woman looked surprised for a second. “Do you not recognize me?” she responded.

“No…”

“You do not recognize your mother?”

“Mother!”

As the word "Mother" escaped my lips, a sinking feeling washed over me. This wasn't just a simple case of reincarnation or starting a new life. I had replaced someone. The realization dawned on me; my heart heavy with the implications of this truth.

I looked at the woman before me, who claimed to be my mother. Her tearful eyes reflected a mix of joy and sadness, a bittersweet reunion with her lost child. But I wasn't her child, at least not in this life. I had taken over the identity of someone else, leaving their memories and experiences behind, and it was now I who held the place of her true child.

The magnitude of this revelation left me overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the bond of love and familiarity I felt for this woman, as if it was ingrained in my very being. On the other hand, guilt and sorrow gripped my heart for usurping someone else's existence, their identity, and their place in the world.

Questions raced through my mind like a tempest. Who was the person I replaced? How did this happen? Was it a mere twist of fate, or was there a deeper purpose behind this uncanny turn of events?

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice filled with remorse. "I don't know how or why this happened, but I'm not who you think I am."

The lady's expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand on my cheek. "Yes, you are," she said softly. "You are back, and that's all that matters. I thought I lost you forever."

Her unconditional love and acceptance of me, even in this baffling situation, brought tears to my eyes. I might not be her true child, but she embraced me as if I were, with a love that transcended the boundaries of time and reality.

Soon, a middle-aged man with blonde hair stepped closer to us, and as the woman let me go, he gave me a brief hug. "I am glad you are okay, son," he said, and the bell started ringing in my head.

"You are my father?" I asked, a bit skeptical.

"Yes," the man chuckled. "Who else? Have you forgotten?"

In return, I only stared at him. This man was the root of it all. If he had just paid the debt he owed, I might not have gone through the suffering, the pain of my palms getting crushed. Yes, I felt some sort of respect and familiarity towards him, but the anger brought by the torment was enough to beat it all.

"I haven't forgotten," I finally spoke, my voice tinged with bitterness. "But it seems you have. You left me to suffer, to face the consequences of your debts. Do you even realize what you put me through?"

His smile faltered, and a shadow of remorse crossed his face. "I... we will discuss this later," he said, quietly leaving the room and ordering the others to attend to me.

The woman leaned closer. "Who hurt you?" she asked gently.

"...I couldn't see their faces," I admitted. "But they kept repeating, 'If your father had paid back what he owed, none of this would have happened,' while they hammered my nails." Just reminiscing the moment, brought back the searing pain.

She gasped, her eyes welling up with tears. "Oh, my poor child. I can't imagine the pain you went through."

"Yes," I nodded, acknowledging her empathy, but also understanding that she could never truly comprehend the agony I had endured. My emotions were a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and sorrow, and I found it difficult to meet her gaze any longer.

There was no point in burdening her any further than necessary. Though I may not have known her before, she had become my mother in this new life. It would be cruel to reveal the pain her child had endured, especially when her own husband was the cause of it all.

"... I will talk with your father," she said firmly before leaving the room immediately, leaving me in the care of an unknown man, a woman, and the maid from earlier.

As I tried my best to come to terms with the truth, the trio began the delicate process of undressing my hands. They handled me with care, but the memories of the excruciating pain I had endured made me flinch involuntarily. They asked me to look away as they carefully replaced the soiled clothes with fresh ones on each hand. The process was slow and meticulous, and I could feel the tension in the room as they worked in silence.

"How long will it take?" I inquired, my voice tinged with a mix of anxiety and urgency.

"Lord?" The man seemed puzzled by my question.

"I mean, how long will it take for my hands to heal?" I explained, trying to remain composed despite the pain and confusion. "When will the doctor arrive? I need surgery. Just wrapping them in cloth will not work."

The three of them exchanged glances, clearly unsure of how to respond to my unfamiliar words. "On second thought, why are you wrapping them in cloth? Don't you have proper bandages?" I pressed, my frustration mounting. "Do you think they will heal magically or something?"

"They will heal, Lord," the man assured me, attempting to sound confident. "We have used very potent potions. Also, the healer will arrive by evening. Once he is here, you will be good as new."

"Potions! Healers!" I couldn't help but express my disbelief. Such words were foreign to my time, and the idea of magical remedies seemed absurd.

As I tried to process the situation, the reality of my displacement struck me. Where had my consciousness been sent? "Tell me, what is this place, and what day is it?" I asked, hoping to gain some clarity about my whereabouts.

The trio exchanged puzzled glances once more before responding hesitantly, "You are in your home, Lord."

"Where exactly is that?"

"Seiren."

"Where is this Seiren… Forget it, what's the date?"

"Today is… November 10th"

"Which year?" My heart pounded in my chest as I feared their answer.

"1521"

The weight of their response crashed onto me like a tidal wave. Five centuries separated me from my time—a concept so unbelievable that I felt like I was living a nightmare. The idea of time travel, something I had only read about in fiction, now seemed to be my reality.

Overwhelmed, I fell back onto the soft bed, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Oh, my dear Karma. You really are a bitch."