Darkness.
Once again, there was nothing to see.
But Zeldryn recognized this feeling.
The same darkness.
Before experiencing those endlessly repeating lives as Reka, his consciousness had also sunk into a place like this.
After unbearable pain struck his lower abdomen.
After his vision became increasingly blurry.
Then everything turned dark.
And now...
He was inside that darkness again.
Except something was different.
Warmth.
Zeldryn could feel warmth surrounding his entire body.
It wasn't the same heat that had filled his room last night.
Nor did it feel like burning.
It was comfortable.
So comfortable that Zeldryn didn't even want to move.
It felt as though his entire body had been wrapped in something soft.
No pain.
No pressure.
No sound.
Only warmth.
For a moment, Zeldryn even wanted to stay there a little longer.
But the longer he remained inside that warmth, the clearer his consciousness became.
Slowly...
He began to feel the urge to wake up.
His eyelids felt heavy.
Zeldryn tried moving them.
Once.
Nothing.
He tried again.
A small amount of light entered his vision.
Then...
Zeldryn opened both eyes.
“Hm...?”
A small sound escaped his mouth.
His blurry vision gradually began to adjust.
Something appeared above him.
A ceiling.
Not the ceiling of Reka's rented room.
There was no light fixture.
None of the simple features he had spent years seeing every morning before getting ready for work.
The ceiling above him now was much higher.
Luxurious.
Covered in details that felt incredibly familiar.
Zeldryn blinked several times.
He stared at it for quite a while.
Then his awareness slowly returned completely.
“My room...”
Zeldryn muttered quietly.
Yes.
This was Zeldryn Giorry's room.
The Giorry family's border mansion.
He really was back.
Memories of what he had just experienced immediately surfaced one after another.
The loops.
Reka's endlessly repeating lives.
That woman.
The novel.
The phone.
The READ button.
And the black figure with blue hair and blue eyes who kept asking him to return.
Zeldryn stared at the ceiling without moving for several seconds.
Then he raised one hand and covered part of his face.
“After all that... that was seriously fucking weird.”
Zeldryn spoke quietly.
He still didn't fully understand what had happened.
Was all of it a dream?
It had felt far too real to be an ordinary dream.
Zeldryn could still remember the decades he had lived inside those loops.
He could even remember children he had never actually had.
His house.
His job.
That woman's face.
Dying at the age of eighty-three.
Then waking up again.
And repeating everything.
Zeldryn slowly rubbed his face.
“Don't tell me everyone who tries to understand mana experiences some kind of false awakening like that?”
Zeldryn asked himself internally.
A few seconds later, even he realized how strange that question sounded.
He had absolutely no basis for that conclusion.
Maybe the experience had nothing to do with mana at all.
But the timing was too close to ignore.
He had tried absorbing mana.
The particles disappeared one by one.
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His lower abdomen felt as if something was trying to destroy it from the inside.
He passed out.
Then all that insanity happened.
Zeldryn stared at the ceiling again.
“Then who the hell was that woman?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
That figure had spoken as if she knew him.
Not merely knew him.
She had spoken as if she knew things even Zeldryn himself didn't know.
She said she didn't want to share him with other women.
She claimed she had been waiting for an incredibly long time.
And her final sentence...
Zeldryn frowned slightly.
“Even I came back from the futu...”
The sentence had been cut off before she could finish.
“The future?”
Zeldryn muttered quietly.
He had no idea whether she had been telling the truth or whether it had simply been another attempt to stop him.
The problem was that he currently had no way to find out.
The more he thought about it, the more questions appeared.
Zeldryn let out a long sigh.
“Seriously... can't I get even one day off?”
Zeldryn complained to himself.
He had only been in this world for a short time.
His body had been beaten half to death.
There were problems with his family.
Henry and Aeglo.
Mana.
And now he had a mysterious woman appearing inside some kind of dream, illusion, or whatever the hell that place had been.
Zeldryn closed his eyes briefly.
“Whatever.”
Zeldryn muttered.
“I'll think about it later.”
For now, at least he was back in his room.
That was more important.
Zeldryn opened his eyes again.
He moved one hand to the side.
Only then did he notice something.
The bed.
Zeldryn went silent.
He felt the surface beneath his body.
Soft.
There was no mistake.
He was lying on his bed.
Zeldryn immediately frowned.
“Wait.”
He spoke quietly.
The last thing he remembered...
He had been sitting in his chair.
His hand had been gripping the edge of the table when the pain struck.
Even right before losing consciousness, he had still been there.
So why was he lying in bed now?
Zeldryn began trying to sit up.
One hand gripped the side of the bed for support.
Instinctively, Zeldryn prepared himself.
His body was definitely going to hurt.
The bruises across his back.
The wound on his chest.
His neck.
The cuts covering his body.
Especially after what happened last night.
Zeldryn had already imagined pain shooting through him the moment he lifted his body.
He slowly pushed himself upward.
Then sat.
Zeldryn froze.
Nothing.
He waited.
Still nothing.
Zeldryn slowly turned his neck.
Right.
Left.
No pain.
He moved his shoulders.
No pain.
His arms.
His waist.
His legs.
Not even the slightest ache.
Zeldryn stared at both hands.
“What?”
Zeldryn muttered quietly.
His body felt...
Fresh.
Not merely painless.
It felt as if he had just woken from a long, deep sleep with a completely healthy body.
No heaviness.
No exhaustion.
None of the pain that had followed every movement he made over the past few days.
Zeldryn moved his fingers one by one.
Then clenched his hand into a fist.
Opened it again.
“It seriously doesn't hurt?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
He tried standing up from the bed.
Both feet touched the floor.
Zeldryn deliberately stood a little faster than usual.
Still no pain.
His confusion only grew.
He looked around.
His room was still the same.
The table.
The chair.
The candle.
The window.
Nothing immediately appeared different.
But there was one fact he couldn't ignore.
Someone had moved him.
Zeldryn looked back at the bed.
The last thing he remembered was passing out near the table.
If he was here now, then someone must have entered and carried him to the bed.
“Who?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
His thoughts immediately returned to the rule Hera had explained earlier.
The old Zeldryn had forbidden servants from entering his room without permission unless they were cleaning, changing the sheets, replacing candles, or performing some other necessary task.
The servants wouldn't even dare enter merely to deliver food.
So who had been brave enough to enter his room while he was unconscious?
Maybe someone heard him screaming?
Zeldryn didn't know.
If that was the case, who had found him?
Hera?
Another servant?
A guard?
Zeldryn shifted his gaze toward the table.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly.
Something felt wrong.
He walked several steps closer.
The papers were still on the table.
The pen was there too.
But...
Zeldryn suddenly stopped.
“My notes?”
Zeldryn muttered.
He immediately approached the table.
His hand picked up the first sheet.
Blank.
Zeldryn flipped it over.
Blank.
He grabbed another sheet.
The same.
Nothing was written on it.
Zeldryn began checking the papers one by one.
Blank.
Blank.
Blank.
The list he had made last night was gone.
Nothing about his body.
Mana.
The Giorry family.
The mansion.
Money.
Language.
Writing.
Everything had disappeared.
Zeldryn stared at the table for a long moment.
The pen he had used last night was still there.
The papers were still there.
But the sheet containing his notes was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit...”
Zeldryn looked beneath the table.
Nothing.
He checked the floor around the chair.
Still nothing.
“Why does something mysterious always have to happen to me?”
Zeldryn complained, growing increasingly irritated.
He stood upright.
“Fucking hell.”
Zeldryn muttered while rubbing his head.
If someone really had moved him to the bed, had that same person taken his notes?
And if so...
Had they read them?
The thought immediately made Zeldryn fall silent.
That could be a problem.
The notes didn't directly say that he was Reka.
But some of what he had written clearly wasn't something the old Zeldryn should have been writing.
Especially the notes about language and writing.
Zeldryn tried remembering exactly what he had written.
Even then, however, there was still another problem.
No one knew what writing system he had used.
Zeldryn had written using the alphabet he knew.
Did people in this world also use the same alphabet?
The more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he became.
“Who came into this room last night?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
There was no answer.
He looked around the room again.
There were no obvious signs that someone had searched through his belongings.
Nothing had been scattered around.
The table looked almost exactly the same as before.
Only his notes were gone.
Zeldryn sighed.
Another problem to think about.
But as he rubbed his face in frustration, his hand suddenly stopped.
His cheek.
Zeldryn touched it again.
Smooth.
No pain.
No swelling.
No wound.
Zeldryn froze.
He had been so busy thinking about the missing notes that he had nearly forgotten the strangest thing about waking up.
His body had healed.
Zeldryn immediately turned toward the mirror in his room.
He quickly walked toward it.
His steps were no longer slowed by pain.
Once he reached the mirror, Zeldryn raised his face.
!?
His eyes widened.
“What the fuck...?”
The words escaped Zeldryn's mouth as he stared at his reflection.
The face in the mirror was still Zeldryn Giorry's.
Pitch-black hair.
Yellowish-orange eyes.
Sharp, slender features.
But there was one enormous difference.
There were no bruises.
None.
The red and blue discoloration that had covered parts of his face was completely gone.
The wounds around his face had disappeared too.
Zeldryn leaned closer to the mirror.
He tilted his head.
Right.
Then left.
His hand touched his cheek.
He pressed lightly.
No pain.
Zeldryn touched the areas that had previously been wounded.
There were no marks.
“Is this for real?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
He carefully inspected his face again.
Nothing.
It was as though those injuries had never existed in the first place.
Questions immediately filled his mind.
“How did everything suddenly heal?”
Zeldryn asked himself internally.
His thoughts returned to last night.
Mana.
The disappearing particles.
The pain beneath his navel.
Losing consciousness.
“Was it because of the mana last night?”
Zeldryn wondered.
He wasn't ready to conclude anything yet.
But right now, that was the only unusual event directly connected to his body.
Then another possibility occurred to him.
Zeldryn looked down at himself.
“If my face healed...”
Zeldryn muttered.
His hand moved toward the top of his clothes.
“Then what about the rest of my body?”
Zeldryn immediately removed his upper clothing.
He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it nearby.
Then he looked at the mirror again.
Zeldryn froze.
It was true.
Nothing remained.
The red and blue bruises that had previously covered his body were gone.
The cuts caused by sharp objects had disappeared as well.
Even the wounds that had already dried and formed scabs had completely vanished.
Zeldryn turned his body slightly.
His hands moved across his chest.
His stomach.
His shoulders.
Every part he could reach.
No pain.
No rough texture from healing wounds.
No scars.
His skin looked completely normal.
Zeldryn stared at his reflection in disbelief.
“Holy shit...”
Zeldryn muttered.
He touched his abdomen again.
Especially the area just below his navel.
The place where the worst pain had originated last night.
He felt nothing.
No wound.
No swelling.
No mark.
Zeldryn pressed it lightly.
Still no pain.
“What the hell happened last night?”
Zeldryn asked himself.
He was so focused on examining his body that he failed to notice the faint sound behind him.
Creak.
The bedroom door slowly opened.
Zeldryn was still standing in front of the mirror with his upper body exposed.
His attention remained fixed on his skin, which was now completely free of injuries.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“Um... please forgive my intrusion, Young Lord Zeldryn.”
Zeldryn immediately froze.
That wasn't Hera's voice.
“May I have a moment of your time?” the person at the door continued.
!?
Zeldryn flinched.
“Huh?!”
He immediately turned toward the door.
A man stood there.
He was fairly tall.
From Zeldryn's estimate, perhaps around one hundred and eighty centimeters or slightly taller.
The man wore a white robe that looked much cleaner and neater than the clothing worn by the mansion guards.
His hair was black.
The cut reminded Zeldryn of the two-block hairstyle commonly seen in the modern world.
A pair of glasses rested on his face.
Zeldryn stared at him for several seconds.
Unfamiliar.
No fragments of memory immediately surfaced.
Nothing from the novel made him recognize the man's face either.
And now this stranger was standing in the doorway of his room.
While Zeldryn...
Was still shirtless.
“Huh? Who are you?”
Zeldryn asked instinctively while staring at the man in the white robe.