I was dreaming.

  In the dream, I was running through endless green fields, the sun shining brightly overhead, the smell of fresh bread drifting from the orphanage kitchen.

  The simple happiness of another ordinary day.

  Then — a scream.

  A sharp, tearing scream jolted me awake.

  I sat up, heart pounding.

  Smoke.

  Thick, suffocating black smoke filled the room.

  The heavy scent of burning wood and blood choked the air.

  "What's happening—?!" I gasped, coughing.

  Around me, my roommates — little Tomas, shy Elric, stubborn Mina — were crying, coughing, scrambling for the door.

  That’s when I heard it.

  The clanking of armored boots outside.

  Through the cracked door, I caught a glimpse of them —

  Knights in brilliant white and blue armor, their faces hidden behind shining helms.

  Each bore a flowing red cape, and on their chestplates, the mark of a silver eagle gleamed.

  Fifty of them, maybe more.

  A small army.

  And they weren't here to save us.

  I watched, paralyzed, as one of the knights swung a gleaming blade and cut down the orphanage cook — old Mr. Walden, who used to sneak us extra soup on cold nights.

  Another knight grabbed Elric as he fled, crushing his small wrist without mercy.

  Elric screamed.

  Then — silence.

  I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat.

  "Why... why is this happening?!"

  The walls of the orphanage I had called home for twelve years crackled and hissed under the hungry bite of fire.

  Sparks rained down from the ceiling.

  The wooden floors beneath my feet were already turning black.

  They cut down anyone who showed even a hint of resistance.

  Blood mixed with fire, painting a hellish scene.

  I crouched behind a half-broken door, heart slamming against my ribs.

  Why?

  Why is this happening?

  Peeking through the broken door, I saw her —

  The leader of the knights.

  A woman, tall and graceful, with long, shining blue hair cascading down her back like a frozen lake.

  Her beauty was almost unreal — cold, regal, commanding.

  She wore no helmet; her face was exposed — breathtaking, ethereal, as if she didn’t belong in this nightmare.

  Her armor shimmered with runes, and at her hip, a sword pulsed faintly with a blue glow.

  I watched as she spoke with the orphanage director — an old man with shifty eyes.

  Unlike the children, they weren’t dragging or hurting him.

  He bowed and scraped before her like a worm, whispering fast words I couldn’t understand.

  They planned this, I realized with a jolt.

  The director sold us out.

  But it was too late.

  My fists clenched until my nails dug deep into my palms.

  I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t brave.

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  Everyone always hated me — the black-haired boy in a land where only royal blood bore such a color.

  Even among orphans, I was an outsider.

  But still...

  I had people.

  Tiny, precious connections.

  A few roommates I had grown up with.

  Now — one by one — I watched them fall.

  A sword pierced through Hom, my roommate who once shared candies with me.

  The old cook lady who used to sneak us extra bread fell without even a cry.

  "Run! RUN!" Mina shrieked beside me.

  We turned to flee — but the knights were already there, corralling us like cattle, grabbing children, dragging them away.

  I saw Tomas — brave, stubborn Tomas — try to punch one of them.

  The knight laughed and backhanded him so hard his small body crumpled like paper.

  No— no— no—

  Rage boiled inside me, wild and unfamiliar.

  But when I moved, a gauntleted fist slammed into my abdomen.

  The world tilted.

  Pain exploded through me.

  I gasped, falling to my knees.

  Darkness pressed at the edges of my vision.

  And in that moment —

  As the orphanage burned, as the people I cared about died around me — something inside me snapped.

  A sharp, blinding pain tore through my skull.

  My eyes burned as if a thousand needles were stabbing into them.

  And then —

  I saw it.

  In the reflection of a shattered window:

  My eyes had turned crimson.

  Two swirling tomoes — one in each eye — rotated slowly, like whirlpools of fury.

  What is this?

  What’s happening to me?!

  My heart thundered.

  Terror, sorrow, and rage mixed into something new — something terrifying.

  But the power surging inside me was too much for my battered body.

  I collapsed, the red light of my new eyes flickering and fading.

  ---

  As I drifted into unconsciousness, visions swirled behind my closed eyelids.

  Memories that weren’t mine...

  A life that wasn’t this one...

  A lonely man.

  A broken heart.

  Dreams crushed under the weight of betrayal.

  A name floated up like a whisper:

  Rajveer. Rajveer.

  Another life.

  Another world.

  Rajveer.

  A 47-year-old man who once lived quietly — a man who loved manga, video games, Dragon Ball, One Piece — his simple escapes from a lonely, colorless life.

  A man who had loved a girl named Zara with all his heart.

  The searing pain in his heart was worse than any wound.

  The memories wrapped around me, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe.

  I remembered the loneliness.

  The nights when Rajveer cried silently into his pillow, clutching at a fading face he could barely recall.

  I remembered the bitterness at the end —

  How Rajveer had promised himself:

  "If I ever get another chance... I won't be the fool anymore. I'll trust no one. I'll manipulate everyone. I'll take everything I want."

  And now...

  Those memories flooded back like a raging river.

  Who was I now?

  A weak orphan boy with black hair and blood-red eyes?

  Or a 47-year-old teacher from another world?

  The flowing memories of two different souls twisted my mind into chaos.

  But through the storm, I forged an oath:

  > "This time... I will not be weak."

  "This time... I will not lose."

  "This time... I will rule."

  The pain pulled me back from the darkness.

  My eyelids fluttered open.

  My body screamed in agony — every bone, every muscle aching.

  I lay half-buried under a shattered wooden beam — the remains of the orphanage I had once called home.

  The sharp scent of burnt wood and scorched flesh filled the cold night air.

  Smoke curled above me in ghostly tendrils.

  The sky was dark — not with clouds, but with the black, choking smoke of devastation.

  Around me, the bodies of children and caretakers — those who had once smiled, laughed, and cried beside me — now lay broken, robbed of all warmth.

  A dull throbbing pain pulsed behind my eyes.

  I blinked, and the world shifted.

  Memories.

  Not just Rin’s — not just the orphan boy’s.

  Rajveer’s too.

  They crashed into me like a tidal wave: Lonely nights.

  Dreams and heartbreaks.

  Zara’s blurred face, painfully etched into my heart.

  The searing betrayal.

  The oath I had sworn.

  I clutched my chest, gasping for breath.

  I was Rin.

  I was Rajveer.

  A soul stitched together by pain and fate.

  The blue-haired woman gave a cold command.

  I watched as the knights marched forward, mercilessly finishing the slaughter.

  A sudden flash of movement caught my eye.

  Knights clad in gleaming blue and white armor prowled among the ruins, their red capes fluttering.

  Predators, picking off any survivors.

  "Purge the remnants," one barked, his voice muffled behind his helmet.

  The silver eagle on their breastplates gleamed ominously.

  My small hands trembled — but not with fear.

  With rage.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her —

  The old woman, the caretaker who had shielded me from bullies and snuck me bread — now broken and lifeless in the dirt.

  A memory flashed — her gentle smile, her trembling hands patting my head.

  Gone.

  Stolen.

  Something inside me shattered.

  A crimson glow flickered across my vision.

  My burning red eyes reflected the fire and death around me.

  I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood, forcing myself to stay silent, hidden.

  I wouldn't die.

  Not yet.

  Not until I knew the truth.

  Not until I tore this world apart if I had to.

  ---

  I shifted slowly, ignoring the agony tearing through me.

  Each movement felt like a battle.

  Above me, I heard the blue-haired woman’s cold voice speaking to the director.

  "The royal decree is clear," she said, sharp and unfeeling.

  "Purge the impurity. Erase the stain of the stolen blood."

  The director bowed low, his face hidden — in shame, or perhaps greed.

  "Stolen blood...?"

  "Royal decree...?"

  The words gnawed at my consciousness.

  There were secrets here — secrets I couldn’t yet grasp.

  But now wasn’t the time for answers.

  First, I had to survive.

  Panic clawed at my throat —

  But then —

  Rajveer’s memories anchored me.

  Through the pain and terror, my mind sharpened.

  I could see everything: the knights’ movements, the gaps in their patrol, the broken paths through the wreckage.

  My vision burned faintly crimson, sharpening every detail.

  Something inside me had awakened.

  Through Rajveer’s memories, I understood just enough:

  This sight wasn't normal.

  Tiny things, invisible before, now glowed like signs.

  I had no time to question it.

  I had to escape this hell — or die like the others.

  No...

  Running blindly would be suicide.

  I had to think.

  Most survivors had fled into the Forest of Death beyond the orphanage walls.

  Everyone knew the rumors: enter the forest, and you never came back.

  But not me.

  I chose the opposite path.

  Beyond the broken courtyard, past the crumbling garden walls, the river still flowed.

  A half-burned wooden bridge arched across it — shaky, but still standing.

  No one was running that way.

  No one would expect it.

  That was my chance.

  I crafted my plan swiftly:

  Wait for a distraction.

  Move low and silent toward the ruins near the river.

  Cross the bridge fast.

  I waited, heart hammering.

  When two knights began arguing loudly in the courtyard, I seized the moment.

  Dragging my broken body from the rubble, I moved, keeping to the shadows, slipping past the dead.

  The closer I got to the river, the heavier my limbs felt.

  The bridge loomed ahead.

  Old. Rotten.

  But still standing.

  Behind me, shouting erupted.

  Something inside me had snapped a moment ago — a violent pulse that had rushed out like a dam breaking.

  I didn't understand it.

  But I knew they noticed.

  Their boots thundered over the ruins, weapons drawn.

  I stumbled faster.

  Halfway across the bridge, I risked a glance back —

  One knight slashed at the ropes holding the bridge.

  With a deafening crack, the wood gave way.

  For a brief, weightless moment —

  I hovered in the air.

  Then —

  The river smashed into me like a wall of ice.

  The current swallowed me whole, dragging me into its freezing depths.

  ---

  The knights stood at the riverbank, swords lowered, posture relaxed, watching the shattered remains of the bridge vanish into the raging waters.

  None gave chase.

  None needed to.

  The river’s current was savage, relentless — strong enough to drown even a soldier.

  For a wounded, half-dead child?

  Impossible.

  One knight scoffed, "No chance he makes it out alive."

  Another chuckled darkly.

  "And even if he does, he'll drift straight into the Forest of Death."

  Laughter echoed briefly among them as they turned away.

  In their eyes, the matter was settled —

  The river would claim him, or the cursed forest would finish what they started.

  But fate, ever fickle and cruel, had not yet finished with Rin.

  ---

  [End of Chapter 1]