Peace lasted three seconds.
BANG BANG BANG
“Raine! RAINE ASHVEIL! Open this door before I break it!”
Azhareth opened his eyes.
Rai jolted upright, fur sparking.
The knocking came again—more like the beating of war drums than a polite greeting.
BANG BANG BANG
“I know you’re awake, boy! Don’t make me shout your embarrassing secrets!”
Azhareth exhaled.
“…She is relentless.”
Rai gave a sympathetic whine.
Azhareth picked him up, stood, and opened the door.
Mira barged in instantly, hands on hips, eyes blazing with the righteous fury of a concerned mother.
“You,” she declared, “have some explaining to do.”
Azhareth raised a brow.
Rai hid behind his leg.
Mira jabbed her finger toward the hallway.
“That woman yesterday! Expensive clothes, expensive shoes, expensive everything! Bowing to you! Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then who is she?”
“An acquaintance.”
“Acquaintance, my foot! She looked like she was auditioning to be your wife!”
“That is not what happened.”
Mira squinted at him, unconvinced.
“Fine. If she’s not your girlfriend, then what about Lira?”
Azhareth froze.
Rai looked up at him in concern.
Mira’s expression softened a little.
“You remember Lira, right? Sweet girl? Always patching you up? Trying to fix that mess you called life?”
Azhareth did not answer.
But Raine’s memories answered for him.
They surged forward—slow, heavy, painful.
A woman formed in his mind—
short brown hair, gentle eyes, protective posture.
Lira.
Captain of Raine’s last hunter team.
His girlfriend.
His lifeline.
His burden.
A cluttered kitchen.
Raine slumped at the table, bottle in hand.
Lira cooked quietly, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds.
“Raine,” she said softly, “you need to stop drinking so much. It’s hurting your body.”
“I’m stressed,” Past-Raine muttered.
Lira’s voice warmed.
“That’s why I’m here.”
She set food in front of him, smiling.
He had barely thanked her.
Dungeon stones, wet with blood.
Raine on the ground, bruised and panting.
Lira kneels in front of him, hands shaking but steady.
“You almost died,” she whispered, wrapping a bandage around his arm. “Stop charging in alone. You’re scaring me.”
“You didn’t heal fast enough,” Raine snapped.
Lira went still.
She didn’t argue.
She just lowered her head and continued healing him.
The guild meeting room.
Lira stood alone while her team surrounded her.
“Captain,” Jorin said, “Raine is dragging us down.”
“He’s unstable,” the mage added. “Half our failures are because of him.”
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“He nearly got me killed last run,” the rogue growled.
Lira clenched her fists.
“He’s trying.”
“No,” Jorin said gently, “he’s not. And you’re the one suffering for it.”
The room fell quiet.
Lira swallowed hard.
“…I’ll take responsibility. Just give him more time.”
The team exchanged looks—sad, frustrated, defeated.
She was the only one still fighting for Raine.
Lira stood at Raine’s door.
Eyes tired.
Shoulders slumped.
“I can’t do this anymore, Raine.”
Past-Raine glared.
“What now?”
Lira’s voice trembled.
“I loved you. I shielded you. I argued for you. I lost sleep for you. I fought the guild for you. And every time something went wrong, you blamed me.”
Her breath hitched.
“I’m exhausted.”
Raine looked away.
“If you can’t handle it, that’s on you.”
Lira closed her eyes, just for a moment.
When she opened them, she wasn’t crying.
She was empty.
“I still love you,” she whispered. “But I can’t keep destroying myself for someone who refuses to stand.”
She turned.
She walked away.
The door closed softly behind her.
Raine had sat in the dark afterward, muttering:
“Everyone leaves me.”
He never once wondered why.
The memory faded.
Azhareth stared at the wall.
Rai pressed against his leg, whining softly.
Mira watched him carefully.
“You hurt her, didn’t you?” she said quietly.
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Mira sighed and sank onto a chair.
“Raine… I know you’ve been through a lot. Losing your parents, the debt, the dungeon failures…”
She looked at him with gentleness, not anger.
“But that girl? Lira? She cared for you more than you cared for yourself.”
Azhareth’s jaw tightened.
Because Mira was right.
In 666 lives, he had been born to:
- mothers who cursed him
- mothers who abandoned him
- mothers who feared him
- mothers who used him
In 666 lives, no one loved him unconditionally.
He earned loyalty through strength.
Respect through terror.
Obedience through power.
But Raine…
Raine was the weakest person imaginable.
A failure.
A coward.
A drunk.
And yet:
Mira worried for him.
Lira loved him fiercely.
His team tolerated him far beyond reason.
He was given warmth without earning it.
Given love without deserving it.
Given support he ignored.
Azhareth felt a strange, bitter heat in his chest.
Not jealousy.
Contempt.
For the first time, he despised the boy whose body he now occupied.
“You wasted everything,” he murmured under his breath. “Everything you were given.”
Rai nudged his hand with a tiny spark, feeling the turmoil inside him.
Mira caught the tension in his expression.
She softened.
“…Raine,” she said gently, “you’re different now. I don’t know what happened, but I can see it.”
He blinked.
She smiled faintly.
“That girl… if she saw you today? This version of you?
She’d be proud.”
Azhareth looked away, unsure how to respond.
He had never known his mother's pride.
Never known affection without cost.
Yet here Mira was—softening toward him, touching his arm, watching out for him.
Warmth.
Unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
Yet… nice.
Mira stood and dusted her hands.
“And about that woman from yesterday?” she said, eyeing him.
Azhareth tilted his head.
“The fancy one. She had the look of trouble.”
He didn’t deny it.
“…Possibly,” he said.
Mira nodded decisively.
“Well then. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Azhareth blinked.
“You?”
“Me,” Mira said firmly. “I raised a son once. And I won’t watch another boy under my roof get hurt by some rich troublemaker.”
Rai yipped in agreement.
Azhareth stared at her for a long moment.
He had been feared by kings.
Hunted by armies.
Worshipped by cults.
Never protected by a motherly woman with a slipper.
“…Understood,” he said.
Mira huffed, satisfied.
“Good. Now clean up this place. And for heaven’s sake, eat something that isn’t instant noodles.”
She reached the door, paused, and looked back.
“…And Raine?”
Her voice gentled again.
“Next time… don’t wait until they break before you realize you mattered to them.”
Then she left.
The apartment fell quiet.
Too quiet.
Azhareth lowered himself onto the couch.
Rai hopped up beside him, pressing close.
Azhareth stared at the wall.
“Raine…” he murmured. “You were weak… selfish… blind.”
Rai nudged him again.
“But this world showed you mercy,” Azhareth continued softly.
“More mercy than I have ever seen.”
He closed his eyes.
“This life… will not be wasted.”
Rai barked—
quiet, certain, loyal.
Azhareth rested a hand on his head.
“Come,” he said. “We have much to fix.”