The sound of brakes screaming against asphalt tore through the night.
White light swallowed his vision.
For a brief, suspended second, the world became painfully bright.
Then—
Impact.
His body felt weightless.
Cold.
Distant.
He didn't even have time to scream.
Only one thought flickered through his mind before everything went dark.
So this is how it ends.
---
When he opened his eyes, he did not see a hospital ceiling.
There were no fluorescent lights.
No smell of disinfectant.
Instead, sunlight filtered gently through tall, arched windows draped in deep blue curtains. The ceiling above him was crafted from polished oak beams, carved with intricate patterns. A chandelier of crystal and iron hung silently overhead.
The air carried the faint scent of herbs and incense.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…What?"
His voice came out different.
Lower.
Refined.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
Silk sheets slid down his chest. The bed beneath him was far too large, far too luxurious.
His heart began to pound.
These hands—
He lifted them in front of his face.
They weren't his.
No faint burn scar on his wrist from a childhood accident. No calloused knuckles from years of office stress and late-night workouts he rarely kept up with.
These hands were smooth.
Younger.
Seventeen, perhaps.
A strange chill ran down his spine.
He threw aside the blanket and staggered out of bed. His legs nearly gave out, as if the body wasn't used to sudden movement.
The room was unfamiliar, yet something inside him recognized it.
A large wardrobe stood against the far wall. A sword, ceremonial and unused, hung mounted beside a noble crest.
House Brack.
The name surfaced in his mind—
And then the memories came.
Not his memories.
They poured in like a bursting dam.
A boy standing in a grand hall, head lowered as nobles whispered.
A father's disappointed gaze.
A younger brother training diligently in the courtyard.
A younger sister avoiding eye contact.
Servants mocking behind closed doors.
Debt.
Weak territory.
Failed expectations.
Shame.
And then—
A small vial of poison.
A shaking hand.
Tears.
Darkness.
He gasped and stumbled backward, gripping the edge of a table for support.
"…Leon Brack."
That was the name.
Seventeen years old.
Eldest son of Baron Aldric Brack.
Heir to one of the weakest baronies in the kingdom.
Known across neighboring territories as useless.
Lazy.
Irresponsible.
A burden.
And yesterday—
He had taken his own life.
Silence filled the room.
The weight of the truth settled heavily in his chest.
"So you couldn't endure it anymore," he whispered.
The emotional residue lingered in the body—loneliness, humiliation, hopelessness. It wasn't his pain, yet it pressed against his ribs as if it were.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly.
On Earth, he had been ordinary.
A Korean office worker with no remarkable talents. No grand dreams. No tragic backstory. Just a quiet life that ended abruptly beneath the glare of headlights.
He had died.
And somehow—
He had awakened here.
In another world.
In another body.
"…Reincarnation?"
The word sounded absurd even as he said it.
But the evidence stood around him in polished wood and noble banners.
He approached a tall mirror near the window.
The face that stared back was handsome.
Sharp jaw. Straight nose. Dark hair falling slightly over intelligent eyes.
A noble's face.
A face that should have inspired confidence.
Instead, the faint shadows beneath the eyes betrayed exhaustion.
"So I died… and you died."
He touched his reflection lightly.
"Does that mean I'm living your second chance?"
Or was this his?
A faint warmth stirred inside his chest.
He paused.
Mana.
The foreign sensation flowed weakly through his body like a thin stream struggling to move through dry land.
He focused.
On Earth, such a thing did not exist. Energy was simply energy. But here, the memories told him—mana was life.
Power.
Strength.
The foundation of this world.
He closed his eyes and tried to gather it.
Nothing.
Or rather—
Very little.
A flicker at best.
"…Pathetic."
Even compared to common soldiers, this body's mana was below average.
So not only had he been reborn into another world—
He had inherited a weak vessel.
He let out a small, almost amused breath.
"If there is a god watching this," he muttered, "you have a strange sense of humor."
A knock sounded at the door.
He straightened instinctively.
"…Young Lord?"
A hesitant female voice.
"…May I enter?"
He hesitated only briefly before responding.
"Yes."
The door opened slowly.
A maid stepped inside, head bowed.
When she looked up, her expression shifted to visible shock.
"You're… standing?"
Her eyes darted toward the bedside table where a faint stain from the previous night had been carefully cleaned.
Whispers echoed faintly from outside the corridor.
"He woke up?"
"After what he did…"
"The Baron must be furious…"
So that was how it was.
Even the servants knew.
Even the servants judged.
He studied the maid calmly.
She wasn't hostile.
Just wary.
This was the gaze one gives to someone unstable.
To someone unreliable.
To someone who had disappointed too many times.
He softened his expression deliberately.
"I'm fine," he said evenly. "There's no need to look at me as if I'll collapse again."
The maid blinked.
Something about his tone felt… different.
The old Leon would have lashed out defensively. Or dismissed her. Or ignored her completely.
But this voice was steady.
Composed.
Almost distant.
"I— I shall inform the Baron that you have awakened," she said quickly before bowing and retreating.
The door closed.
He exhaled slowly.
Baron Aldric Brack.
His father.
The memories painted a clear image.
A tall man with graying dark hair and sharp eyes hardened by responsibility.
Not cruel.
But strict.
Burdened.
House Brack ruled a small barony on the edge of the kingdom's western frontier.
Fertile lands, but poorly managed.
Trade routes bypassed them.
Military strength was minimal.
Surrounded by stronger nobles who viewed them as expendable.
And the heir—
Was useless.
He walked toward the window.
Beyond the stone walls of the estate, rolling fields stretched toward distant forests. Small villages dotted the landscape. Smoke rose gently from chimneys.
This was not a poor land.
It was neglected.
Mismanaged.
Wasting potential.
"…Interesting."
He had no desire for glory.
No ambition to conquer.
He had already lived one exhausting life filled with deadlines and expectations.
If this truly was a second chance—
He wanted something simple.
Quiet.
Comfortable.
A peaceful life.
Yet the memories reminded him sharply—
Peace was not given freely in this world.
There were twenty-one kingdoms across five continents.
Humans shared land with dwarves in mountains, elves in forests, beast clans in plains and wild territories.
Demons ruled the dark continent beyond the sea.
Dragons—
Rare.
Almost mythical.
Superior to all races.
Worshiped by elves and feared by kings.
And he was a weak young lord in a fragile territory within one of those kingdoms.
"Peace," he murmured dryly, "is probably unrealistic."
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Measured.
Firm.
The door opened without ceremony.
Baron Aldric Brack entered.
The air itself seemed to straighten.
He wore simple but dignified noble attire. A sword hung at his side—not decorative.
His sharp eyes landed on Leon.
They searched him carefully.
No immediate anger.
No dramatic shouting.
Just a long, assessing silence.
"So," Aldric said at last, voice deep and controlled, "you have awakened."
Leon met his father's gaze without flinching.
"Yes."
Another silence.
Aldric stepped further into the room.
"You understand what you did."
It was not a question.
Leon lowered his eyes slightly.
"I do."
The Baron's jaw tightened.
"You have shamed this house."
A pause.
"But you are still my son."
There it was.
Disappointment layered over restrained concern.
"You will explain yourself later," Aldric continued. "For now, you will rest. And you will reflect."
His tone softened by the smallest fraction.
"House Brack cannot endure another scandal."
Leon inclined his head.
"I understand, Father."
The word felt foreign on his tongue.
Aldric studied him again.
Something in his expression flickered—uncertainty.
"You seem… different."
Leon allowed the faintest hint of a lazy smile.
"Near-death experiences can be enlightening."
Aldric did not smile.
But he did not rebuke him either.
"We will speak again tonight."
Without another word, the Baron turned and left.
The door closed.
Leon remained still for several seconds.
Then he exhaled.
Step one complete.
Do not act erratic.
Do not appear weak.
Do not appear ambitious.
Observe first.
He walked back to the window.
This territory was weak.
But weakness could be managed.
Strength could be built quietly.
He did not need to become a hero.
He did not need fame.
He only needed stability.
Comfort.
Security.
If that required careful planning, subtle manipulation of trade, minor military reforms, and gradual economic adjustments—
So be it.
He had managed corporate politics before.
Noble politics could not be worse.
Right?
Far beneath the estate—
Beyond cellars.
Beyond forgotten tunnels sealed generations ago—
Mana pulsed.
Ancient.
Dormant.
In a cavern untouched by sunlight for centuries, an enormous egg rested upon a stone altar engraved with draconic script long faded by time.
A crack appeared on its surface.
Thin.
Almost invisible.
A faint golden light flickered from within.
Above, Leon turned from the window, unaware.
"I'll live quietly," he said to himself.
"I'll avoid unnecessary trouble."
"I'll fix only what I must."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"And I will absolutely not get involved in anything dangerous."
Deep underground—
The egg pulsed again.
Stronger.
As if responding to his voice.
---
Thus began the second life of Leon Brack—
The young lord who had died once on Earth.
And once in this world.
Unaware that peace was the one thing fate would never allow him.