The morning sun bled through the curtains, painting soft streaks of gold across the marble floor.
Leon opened his eyes, muscles aching from yesterday's shock of reincarnation. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was — until the silk sheets, the ornate bedposts, and the scent of lavender brought him back to reality.
Right… I'm not home anymore.
He sat up slowly. The two floating systems from last night lingered in his mind like twin ghosts. He had barely slept — the thought of holding two interfaces, two paths to strength, had kept him restless.
But if he wanted to test them, he needed to start small.
He clenched his fists. "In the game… physical training increased base stats. Maybe it'll work here too."
Leon got dressed in a simple white shirt and trousers, nothing like the noble silks hanging in the wardrobe. When he stepped into the hallway, the same maid from yesterday was already waiting, hands folded neatly.
"Good morning, young master," she greeted, tilting her head with a smile.
"Morning," Leon said, voice still groggy. Then, after a short pause, he added, "Where can I find the training field?"
The maid blinked. "…The training field?"
"Yes. I want to train today."
For a moment, silence. Then a faint chuckle escaped her lips.
"Oh my, is this truly our young master Leon speaking? The one who once fainted during archery lessons?"
Leon shrugged. "People change."
Her eyes softened with playful teasing. "Finally trying to be a man, are we?"
He smirked slightly. "Something like that."
With an amused sigh, she motioned for him to follow. "Very well then, young master. I'll take you there."
The mansion's corridors opened into a vast courtyard, sunlight glinting off pale stone walls. The training field stretched beyond, surrounded by oak trees and lined with weapon racks — swords, spears, wooden dummies scarred from use.
At its center stood a man built like a mountain — gray hair, broad shoulders, and arms thick with muscle. His face was carved in permanent sternness, but his eyes held a strange calm.
"Old Garret," the maid called, her voice echoing across the grounds. "The young master wishes to train."
The man turned, squinting beneath the sun. "Train?" His tone was dry, skeptical. "You're joking, girl."
Leon stepped forward. "I'm not."
Garret's gaze swept over him, taking in his thin frame and delicate hands. "You? The boy who can barely lift a spoon wants to train?"
Leon met his eyes steadily. "I want to be strong."
The words carried a quiet weight — a tremor of sincerity that silenced the air between them.
For a long second, Garret studied him. Then the old man gave a low hum and crossed his arms.
"Hmph. You'll regret those words, boy. But fine — let's see what you're made of."
The day began with pain.
Simple stretches became battles. Push-ups turned into torture. Each breath scraped against his lungs like sandpaper. His arms quivered, his vision blurred.
Garret's voice boomed across the yard. "Back straight! Again!"
Leon's hands trembled as sweat dripped from his chin to the dirt. He gritted his teeth.
His body screamed to stop, but his mind whispered louder — keep going.
He remembered nights spent in front of his monitor, being mocked by thousands of viewers. Loser. Trash gamer. Give up already.
The same words tried to claw their way back into his head, but this time, he answered them with movement.
He pushed.
And pushed again.
Until finally, he collapsed, gasping for air.
The maid rushed forward. "Young master! You'll hurt yourself!"
But before she could touch him, Garret's shadow loomed over both of them.
"That," the old man said gruffly, "was just the warm-up."
Leon lifted his head weakly, eyes wide. "That… was warm-up?"
A rare grin cracked Garret's weathered face. "You've got a long way to go, boy. But at least you didn't quit."
The sun was sinking by the time they stopped.
The once clean field was now marked with footprints, sweat, and dust. Leon's entire body throbbed in pain — a dull, consuming ache that somehow felt right.
As he sat in the grass, chest heaving, Garret dropped a towel on his shoulder. "Pain's a good teacher," he said. "Listen to it well. It tells you you're alive."
Leon nodded faintly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then… I'm very alive right now."
Garret barked a laugh. "Ha! Not bad, boy. Come again tomorrow — if you can walk."
The maid helped him up, wrapping an arm around his back. "You're unbelievable," she muttered. "You'll destroy your body at this rate."
Leon gave her a weak grin. "If that's what it takes to make it stronger… then so be it."
By the time they reached his room, the moon had already climbed high over the Solheim estate. The maid filled the tub with warm water, and Leon stepped in, letting the heat swallow his exhaustion.
His muscles twitched with pain, but beneath that pain… was satisfaction.
A faint thrill.
He'd spent years behind a glowing screen, failing over and over again in a game that refused to be beaten. Now, for the first time, every movement — every breath — brought him closer to something real.
After his bath, he stumbled to bed, the room softly lit by candlelight. His reflection in the mirror looked fragile, almost pitiful. But in his eyes — there was something new.
A spark.
As he lay down, his limbs heavy, his thoughts drifted back to the two translucent windows waiting in his mind.
Would his efforts show? Would this world recognize his will?
"Status," he whispered one last time before his eyes closed.
No response.
But he didn't mind.
Tomorrow, maybe it would.
And when it did — he would rise again.
He smiled faintly as darkness pulled him under.
"…Worth it," he murmured.
And for the first time since his death, Leon felt truly alive.