Pain.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not sharp like before. Not the brutal agony of shattered bones or betrayal. No… this was dull, lingering, and strangely distant. As if my body remembered pain, even if it no longer had reason to feel it.
My eyelids were heavy. I forced them open.
Blurry clouds floated above me, drifting slowly through a pale-blue sky. The scent of damp earth filled my nose, mixed with something herbal. Grass. Wood smoke. And… blood?
I sat up with a jolt, heart racing.
I was… in a field?
The ground beneath me was uneven, with patches of wildflowers poking up between cracks in the dry soil. The wind brushed softly against my cheeks, and the sun cast warm, golden light across the lonely landscape.
I blinked.
My hands were small. My arms were thinner. I looked down at my body and saw legs that didn't belong to the woman I had become—but to a child.
I was a child again. Five, maybe six years old.
Panic surged.
My fingers trembled as I touched my face, my hair, my chest.
No wounds. No bruises. Just skin—smooth and new.
"This can't be real."
But it was.
Suddenly, a crunch of footsteps echoed nearby. I turned sharply.
A man stood at the edge of the field. Tall, cloaked in coarse brown robes, with long white hair tied behind his back and a thick beard that brushed his chest. His eyes… they were old. Older than time. And sharp enough to slice through steel.
He looked at me like he'd been waiting for centuries.
Then he smiled faintly.
— "So, you've finally arrived."
I stared at him, wide-eyed. "W-What?"
He stepped forward slowly, hands behind his back, posture as straight as a blade.
— "Don't ask me what I mean. I won't answer. Not now. Maybe not ever."
My lips parted. I wanted to scream. Cry. Demand answers.
But something about his voice made me freeze. It wasn't cruel. It wasn't kind. It was… final.
Like fate speaking through flesh.
He stopped in front of me and looked down.
— "From now on, you'll live under my roof. You will train. You will study. You will obey. You'll learn the truth of this world, piece by piece… whether you like it or not."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
He gave a small chuckle.
— "To you? I am your master."
I didn't even know what that meant. But somehow… I didn't fight him.
Maybe because my soul—older than this body—recognized something in his gaze.
Or maybe because, deep down, I knew this life was no accident.
He turned and began walking toward a worn path through the trees. "Come. Your training begins now."
I hesitated only for a moment… then followed.
And so began my second life.
---
The days that followed were strange.
The man—whom I would come to call simply "Master"—never told me his real name. He lived alone in a quiet cottage deep in the mountains, surrounded by herbal gardens, scrolls, and weapons. He spoke rarely and hit hard—never with fists, but with expectations.
He made me wake before dawn. Carry buckets up steep hills. Memorize hundreds of medicinal herbs. Copy scrolls until my hands cramped. Meditate until my legs went numb. Learn pressure points. Energy flow. Internal balance.
He never explained why I had to learn all this. He just said, "You'll need it."
And I never forgot the way he looked at me that first day.
Like he already knew everything I didn't.
I didn't ask questions. Not yet.
Because deep inside, something had awakened. A whisper.
A strange pull in my chest… like someone out there was waiting for me. Someone who needed me.
I didn't know who.
Not yet.
But I knew this life wasn't meant to be lived in peace.
It was preparation.
And one day, I would return.