Sudden reincarnation

“Wow, the kid’s really handsome! Just like his gallant and mighty father!!”

I used to think the whole concept of reincarnation was nothing more than a popular legend, a myth that spread to every corner of the world in recent years. But the truth is, things like that really do exist; and they’re impossible to predict.

“Ahh, yes, he looks just like me!”

“Ummm…”

I figured I’d be the type of person to earn the title of “Best Suicide Candidate” ever. But no matter how much I thought about it, the god of fate really did exist.

I still remember everything that happened before, before I realized this was the pattern of reincarnation.

For the last three months or so, I’d been hit with one misfortune after another, relentless and unending. Most people would probably think my story isn’t worth turning into a movie or even a book. After all, it’s nothing but complaints and the daily drama of a pathetic human life.

So, to sum up my recent troubles, it’s basically this: no friends, no family, barely any savings, fired from my job, overdue electricity bills, and lastly,

I inherited something that brought tears to my eyes.

Debt.

That was my inheritance.

Sorry to disappoint anyone expecting property or something valuable. All I got was a staggering amount of debt, so much that it made my brain shut down into a simple thought:

Oh, I see.

So if I die in frustration, maybe that’s just not a very cool way to go out.

Or at least, that’s what I thought as I stared at the official papers detailing the family’s inherited debt from a bankrupt company.

It wasn’t as easy as I imagined to figure out my next step.

The truth is, I became a NEET for a few months. It’s a popular label these days, and I accidentally earned it thanks to having little to no interaction with the outside world and no steady job.

“Sorry, looks like your time at this apartment is up.”

“…Thanks.”

I got kicked out of my room.

Not that it was surprising.

After all, I had nothing left to pay for the place. No, the only thing I had left at the time… was debt. That was it.

I ended up sleeping under a bridge to get some shelter and rest. And even with all my problems and shallow thoughts, I still tried my best to find a new job.

Luckily, in the first month of summer, I landed a decent offer. It was what they call “become a corporate employee,” or something along those lines.

Two years passed. I became a salaryman again, working just to survive and pay off my debts.

But in reality, I couldn’t make much progress. No matter how many hours I sat in front of a computer, no matter how much overtime I took, no matter how many bonuses or side jobs I grabbed, there was no real change.

“Ugh. Still nowhere near enough.”

At best, I could pay off a quarter of the total debt. Which meant all my efforts were basically meaningless, even if I could claim to live a “normal” life.

In the end, I decided to quit. I was simply exhausted.

On my way home to my new apartment, I often passed people casually raising their hands to their mouths, breathing in with a calm expression.

Then, they’d exhale a cloud of smoke.

Cigarettes.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. They smoked for all sorts of personal reasons.

Seeing that made me think about the “decision” I had already been considering.

It was a plan to end my life. I’d read enough random articles online to remember one thing clearly: smoking causes lung cancer, and eventually, death.

At the time, I thought maybe this was the better option, rather than dying burdened with frustration.

So for a month, two months, three months, and on, I kept spending my money on cigarettes; hoping the cancer would kill me.

And sure enough, by late autumn, I died.

But not from cancer.

I died in a completely unexpected traffic accident.

It happened at night.

My health was already bad. My body was thin, my brain half-asleep without cigarettes, my eyes narrowed with dark circles around them. Of course, the dark circles weren’t because I was cosplaying a panda, they were just from lack of sleep.

With that sluggish body, I casually walked to a convenience store. I’d run out of food, cigarettes, drinks, and everything else. While crossing a quiet street, I didn’t bother thinking much about safety. My goal had already been set from the start; no need to think about anything unnecessary.

“Hey, idiot! Move!!!”

Light.

“Moron!! Are you insane!??”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ahhh~~~ there it is.

I got hit by a huge truck. I have no idea what kind it was. All I saw was the blinding “miracle” of its headlights, accompanied by the voice of a hard-working man inside.

I honestly regretted it afterward.

Really.

So what was the point of all those cigarettes if I was just going to die from getting hit by a truck? For whatever reason, I wasn’t planning to blame anyone in this situation. I only blamed myself.

And so, my life ended here, carrying the label of “Best Suicide Candidate.” That’s all.

Alright, back to this new life.

It’s been five years since that sudden birth.

Lately, I can’t help but wonder if this is what they call “the true existence of miracles,” because I’ve actually been given something I never had before.

Turns out, I was born into a very strange family, one that stands out far more than the average folks in this world… or in my previous one.

This is a family of honorable knights, playing an important role in the defense system of the Kingdom of Ziorze. They call it the “largest human kingdom” to ever exist on the continent of Nouzila.

To be honest, I don’t know much about the world map in this place, at least not in the way a professional historian would.

But no matter how much I want to avoid knowing about it, for some reason, I feel like something is forcing me to learn everything.

From what I’ve read in a few history books back in my previous world, this new world shares a lot of similarities. Especially when it comes to general impressions.

The social structure, culture, politics, and other troublesome matters here feel just like ancient history from the west, east, and other regions I learned about in school.

Don’t get the wrong idea... I wasn’t a bookworm. Far from it. The only reason I knew anything about those topics was because I was forced to attend every single class and never allowed to skip.

Basically, my parents back then were strict to the point of cruelty. If I skipped, I’d get a twisted sort of punishment. So, I followed their instructions to the letter.

That’s all.

“Master Fenzy, you must master the sword from an early age!! You have to become a gallant knight like your father!!”

By the way, my name in this world is Nou Fenzy. That new label had just been thrown at me seconds ago by a middle-aged man with white hair, whacking me with a wooden sword.

He had a face that radiated an almost provocatively strong aura.

If I remember correctly, his name is William. Somewhere in his forties. Single. A former top knight of the previous generation.

Now, he’s nothing more than a “special trainer” my father hired a year ago.

That’s because my father is currently abroad, stationed at the border. I’ve heard there’s tension brewing there; something hot on the lips of the kingdom’s higher-ups.

Once again, I don’t know the details.

I’m still a kid.

Information like that isn’t exactly accessible to a five-year-old. The little I’ve picked up came from scraps of overheard conversations between servants or anyone careless enough to let it slip.

“What is this! You’re holding back! I’m using a wooden sword and you’ve got a real one! Why can’t you do it!?”

Lost in thought for too long, I got chewed out mercilessly by the single middle-aged man.

“Focus, boy!”

“A-ahhh!”

“Good!! That’s it! Now, again!”

I’ll admit, I do know a thing or two about handling sharp objects from my previous world. But of course, wielding a sword at this age is exhausting.

On top of that, this body tires easily, prone to minor injuries. My muscles, bones, and other organs are still growing.

People in this world are really something else, forcing their kids to master their parents’ profession from such a young age. So different from the modern world, where children are at least allowed to focus on reading, writing, and the basics.

But if there’s no other choice…

I have to stop complaining.

I’ve also been reading about the conventional basics of swordplay lately. There’s a manual in the royal library. I read it mostly out of boredom, but I guess it’s coming in handy now.

“Nice swing! Again, again, again!”

“Ughh”

“MORE!”

This middle-aged man is definitely experienced. Since the start, he’s been able to predict every one of my moves.

Even though some of his skin is wrinkled with age, William still has razor-sharp instincts.

“Ugh…”

As a result, I’ve been losing over and over.

I’ve gotten up from the dirt countless times after being knocked down with ease by that wooden sword.

Every strike of his has a strange kind of force. The moment it connects, my body gets sent flying... sometimes right out of the training arena.

“Come on, this is the thirtieth time in just one hour you’ve gone down the same way.”

“……”

William looked at me with a pair of deeply condescending eyes.

Then, as he readied his stance to attack again, he spoke in a low voice:

“How about you imagine that I’m the enemy you hate the most? That might stir up some fighting spirit, right?”

I see.

So, if that’s the case… am I allowed to imagine that he’s the embodiment of “Inherited Debt”?

---

Bantu analisis bab 1 wn yang sedang aku baca ini, bisakah?