Darkness stepped out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. She walked to a small bucket filled with water, cupped her hands, and splashed her face. The chill sent a sharp pulse through her nerves. She wiped herself with a cloth, then picked up a mirror.
Her reflection stared back—soft, delicate features framed by long black hair, brown eyes deep with unspoken thoughts.
"So many years have passed in this body," she murmured. "Yet, I still look the same as my previous life. The only difference… is this face. Thinner. Feminine. Beautiful, even."
Setting the mirror down, she sat back on the bed, scanning the small room she now called her own.
"In this life, my name is Darkness. A name I gave myself."
She smiled bitterly. "I have the memories of my past life, yet it feels like it all happened just yesterday."
---
Flashback: The Birth of Pride
In the void, a soul floated—weightless, without direction.
'It feels like I'm drifting in nothingness, without any chains or boundaries,' he thought.
Suddenly, a torrent of memories flooded his consciousness. Birth. Childhood. Growth. Pain. Death.
The surge of emotions was overwhelming. He couldn't cry. He couldn't scream. He simply writhed in silence until, eventually, the flood ceased.
"What… was that?" he muttered in his mind. "Am I dead?"
He recalled everything—the life of Pride, the Descendant of the Eighth Sage, born into an ancient warrior lineage.
"I lived like trash. But if there's another life… I will live by my Dharma. I will uphold the Laws I once swore to follow."
Suddenly, the darkness shifted. He felt a force—pulling, pushing, impossible to resist. A light pierced through the void. He tried to open his eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. Voices echoed, though distant and muffled.
"My Lady, look at this child. Silent, yet filled with life."
'Voices? Where am I?' Pride's mind stirred as he attempted to respond, but his body wouldn't obey.
"Give him to me."
That voice—it resonated deep within him, as if his soul recognized the person. He yearned to reach out to her.
He was passed into her arms.
"My baby," she whispered, her voice trembling with love, "I will protect you. I will give you a life of happiness and health."
Her touch was warm. Safe. For the first time in his existence, Pride wanted to be embraced forever.
Suddenly, the door slammed open.
"My Lady!" A frantic woman burst into the room, panting heavily. "They're here! They're coming for you!"
His mother's face tensed. Brown eyes filled with resolve, she gripped the sword at her side, sweat glistening on her brow.
"Take my child and run!" she ordered.
"But, My Lady—" the servant protested.
"Take him! That's an order!" her voice cracked, tears gathering in her eyes. "Anabel, I beg you. Protect my blood."
Pride's mind reeled. 'Is this… one of those medieval fantasy worlds? Reincarnated like those stories I read?'
He had believed in reincarnation, but to experience it firsthand was surreal. The memories of people claiming to recall a hundred past lives made him feel awkwardly connected, grateful… and oddly prepared.
'No matter where I am, I'll live well. Mother, you'll never have to worry about me.'
Anabel, the nanny, carefully wrapped him in a cloth, preparing to escape. Pride watched his mother—tired, sweat-streaked, yet still standing tall with a sword, determined to protect him. His heart ached. Tears welled up in his infant eyes, but he knew—he had to live. He had to remember this moment forever.
'I swear, I will remember you, Mother. But… what is your name?'
He wanted to cry out, to tell her "Let's go together!", but his infant body betrayed him.
"Ah… ah…" he managed, reaching out toward her.
His mother saw him, her tears finally breaking free. "I'm sorry, my child. I can't stay with you." She slipped a necklace around his tiny neck. "Perhaps with this… you'll find me, or your father."
The moment was shattered by violent sounds.
"You can't enter!"
Clang. Clang.
Slash.
"Ah!"
"Hurry!" his mother yelled.
Anabel, holding Pride, dashed from the room like the wind. The world blurred as they fled. He could feel her racing heart, her frantic breathing. She maneuvered through wooden hallways, the night sky looming overhead, clouds threatening rain, but holding back.
Anabel stopped before a small house, knocking urgently.
Covered in cloth, Pride's view was limited, but he could feel the desperation in her every movement.
'What's happening? I can't do anything…' Pride thought bitterly, clutching the pendant. 'But I will live. I will never forget.'
"Who's there?" a woman's voice responded.
"Uwah," Pride let out a cry.
The door opened, revealing a woman with soft brown hair and gentle eyes. Not as striking as his mother, but kind.
"Huh? Who left you here?" she whispered, lifting him into her arms. She examined him, causing a flicker of embarrassment to surge within Pride's adult consciousness.
She noticed the fine cloth wrapped around him and the ornate necklace. "A noble? Or… a royal?" she pondered aloud.
Realizing no answer would come, she sighed. "How silly of me. Whoever gave you to me must have trusted me. I'll take care of you."
"Uwah," Pride responded, reaching out to her face.
A sad smile curved her lips. "You're so focused on me… it's like you understand."
Pride wanted to tell her Yes, I do.
'Wait, how can I understand her so clearly? Am I born with a special power?' But no matter how much he searched within himself, nothing surfaced—except instinct.
Suddenly, a knock echoed.
Fear shot through the woman. She looked around in panic, spotting a figure clad in black outside, holding a bloodied knife.
'They're here for me… no, for this child,' she thought, her resolve hardening.
She picked up her own child from the bed—an infant who bore a striking resemblance to Pride. Swiftly, she exchanged them, wrapping her son in the same cloth Pride had been in, and placing Pride in her child's spot.
Holding her son, she composed herself and approached the door.
"Yes? Who is it?" she asked, feigning calm.
The moment she opened the door, a knife pierced through her child's small body.
The young woman choked on a scream as tears welled in her eyes. She dropped to the floor, her body trembling, but she didn't utter a sound.
One of the assassins peered at the child. "Good. We've killed the target. Now, kill the woman."
The woman's heart pounded as she shielded Pride, praying they wouldn't look closer.
"Please… I have a child. I want to live," she begged, her voice cracking with raw fear.
The assassins paused.
"Check it."
One of them approached.