Chapter 2: The first thing you must do when you return to the past

The first thing you must do when you return to the past *Bang* *Bang* *Aghhh!* *Crash* Deafening booms and shrieks, as if an enormous mountain was collapsing, brought Luisen back to consciousness. My lord, my lord. Please hurry and wake up. The battle has begun. Ughh.. Leave me alone. I just died, you know? Luisen covered his head and pushed away the hand, trying to wake him up. His head felt like it had shattered, and nausea rolled around inside of him. A terrible alcohol stench permeated from somewhere. What is this alcohol smell? After the civil war, Luisencouldn'tt drink a single drop of alcohol. Prohibition was instituted as the famine continued to ravage the lands; the price of alcohol went through the roof. For a vagabond like Luis, who found it hard to find daily bread, the smell of alcohol, let alone the taste, was a pipe dream. But then, why was he currently suffering from a severe hangover? He rolled his hazy, heated head around. Slowly, bit by bit, memories returned. It was evident that Luisen should have died that wintry night, three years after he ran away from the castle. However, a man passing by miraculously saved him. He was a man on a religious pilgrimage. Because he was missing one arm, the man was called the one-armed pilgrim. Luise didn't know his name. And he would always wear the hood of a monk, so he couldn't see his face. The man seemed extremely suspicious, but the one-armed pilgrim took care of Luisen with of his heart. He would hand over his bed, warm the room with precious firewood, and was even willing to share medicine and food. Even though he wasn't well off, he devotedly nursed Luisen. Thanks to him, Luis didn't die that winter and instead regained some vitality. Luisen felt deep gratitude towards the one-armed pilgrim. That there was such a merciful and wise person in this wor. He began to call the pilgrim a saint and followed his doctrine. Following him, Luisen learned much of the world and realized his foolishness. The stories the one-armed pilgrim would tell helped gift Luisen with a discerning eye. He helped him see the world with clear eyes, devoid of sin and senility. Luisen was able to feel remorse and apologized sincerely to the dead. After meeting with the one-armed pilgrim, he no longer felt devastating hunger and slept enclosed by ceilings and walls, but his body was already broken by the streets. The next winter, one year later, Luisen breathed his last. I thought I was in an old cabin. It was an endlessly uneasy and dreadful night. As it was deep into the winter, the blizzard's rage rattled the windows as if to shatter them. Knowing it was Luisen's last night, the pilgrim stuffed the stove full of firewood. Every time some strange sound rang ouLuisen'sens heart shook as well. Death was so scary. He was afraid to meet the person who died because of him. It was painful to look back upon his life, but it was also scary to think that no more days would come either. Ah, the process of the soul leaving the body was too long, boring, and terrible. Tears kept flowing down. Brother, said the one-armed ens saint. He grasLuisen'ssens hand, as if he understoodheart'searts desire. Luisen moistened his lips with some wine that the man had procured, as if from thin air, and uttered his last willhis final confession. And then, he died. That was the last moment Luisen could remembeitely died then. But then, why does he smell like alcohol? Didn't he die? No? The memory of his life seeping from his body couldn't have been a dream. Am I in hell? Considering the dreadful shrieks coming from all sides, this must have been hell. He had a terrible migraine and felt nauseous as if he were seasick. Every time he took a breath, the sickening stench of alcohol wafted out of his mouth. It was almost as if it were the day after he had become blackout drunk. Are there hangovers in hell? Hell? Well, I guess it wouldn't be wrong to call it hell. A brusque voice came from above. Is there someone beside me? Luisen opened his eyes. The room was dark, but it was enough to recognize the other person's face. The man had flashy red hair and a good-looking appearance, but his absent-minded expression made him look plain. It was Luisens chief aide, Ruger. Ruger? Huh? Why are you here? Ruger would have fled with Luisen on that fateful night, but instead he let himself get captured and tons sold to give his master an opportunity to safely escape. It was one of Luisen's greatest regrets that he couldn't retrieve the body for fear of being caught. Please come to your senses. Not the time to be carefree and drinking. Now? Luisen looked around blankly; the view looked familiar. The luxurious room, decorated in green and old, was his past bedroom. Although Luisen spent more time in the capital than in his territorycouldn'tuldnt forget the bedroom he had used all his life, which had been passed down for generations in the Anies familcan'tI ccan'tbelieve II'mseeing this place again. This room had burned down Duke's castle. Carlton had made sure of it. Here, have some cold water and pull yourself together. Ruger handed over the cup. Luisen absentmindedly took it and gulped the water down. Maybe because he had arrived in hell, or maybe because he was seeing the castle he lost through his own mistakes, his throat burned. Gah. The ice-cold water made his head spin. Isn't this strange? Luisen pinched his cheeks without mercy. Vivid pain blossomed. Am I alive right now? I'm not dead? The decant cannot feel pain. What's that terrible noise coming from outside the window? He hurriedly ran to the window and flung it open. AHHHHHHH! Stop. Don't back down! Save me! You could see the view of the entire castle at a glance from the duke's bedroom. A battle was in full swing just outside the castle walls. Despite the advantageous position due to the castle's defenses, the battle lines were steadily being pushed backLuisen'sns soldiers were naive and without proper training, while the enemy soldiers climbing the walls were all elite. As if to predict their inevitable victory, a blue flag fluttered majestically over the wall. The blue lion was a symbol of the royal family. A blue lion flag The blue lion flag. Old memories, as vivid as if they had happened just yesterday, rose when he saw that flag. Prince Ellion declared that all those who supported the second prince were traitors. To set an example for all the nobles who didn't support him, he sent soldiers to the Anies Duchy. Carlton, the first prince's sword, butcher, noble executioner, and all sorts of other horrible nicknames, led the army to the duke's territory. Carlton recommended that they surrender to the royal family's rule. Though in name they were the royal's vassals, the Duke of Anies had long ruled the south as its master. The duke, who had secretly belittled the royal family, couldn't accept submitting to its power. The castle closed its gates and chose to fight. He believed that the many southern lords, his vassals, would come as reinforcements if they endured. After the battle began, it only took three days for the castle to fall. Just three days. Ruger, how many days has it been since the battle started? Whatdon'tu don'tyou even remember? Did you take anything other than alcohol? How ma?y days? It started yesterday, it's the second day. Second day! It was the same night Luisen ran away. That's II can't believe it. Luisen chuckled despondently. I went back in time? Why, of all times, did I come back to the night I regret the most? He couldn't believe it. Luisen clenched his fist and punched the window frame. *Thud* Nnit hurts You punched a brick frame, of course, so it hurts! You picked up something weird, didn't you? I've been doing what my lord ordered me to do, even in this mess, so much that my soles are on fire, you're here smoking? I didn't take anything. Or actually, did I? Luisen felt like he was out of his mind. He would usually enjoy that kind of thing during New celebrations, and with the fear of death, perhaps there was no reason not to do it. Maybe I did. A little bit. It's fine.NoNow'sthe time. With the battle in full swing, no one will pay attention to us. Huh? What? Luisen asked blankly. He felt as if he was dreaming. Did he have a weird dream after drinking? This Luisen couldn’t have become a beggar after everything. "We've got to go. I've prepared the horses and money." It couldn’t have been a dream; it did happen. Luisen suddenly made a distressed sound, his mind racing. Returning to the past, he recalled stories like that, but— Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a man. He wandered the world and helped many people. Everyone praised him as a saint, but he couldn’t be happy. That was because he had committed a great sin in the past. Even as he atoned with good deeds, he felt distress. One day, he made a wish to God. He wanted to revive his loved one. God, feeling sorry for the saint, granted him his wish. He sent the saint back to the past so he could save them himself. Luisen's heart raced at the thought. Was this his chance? Could he rewrite his own story? The weight of his past loomed large, but the possibility of redemption flickered like a distant light. He had to seize this moment, to change his fate and perhaps, in doing so, find a way to heal his wounds. With renewed determination, he stood tall, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. This was a legend that was known by all citizens, a fiction made to teach morality and to inspire faith. But that story had become his reality, even though Luisen wasn't a saint. Why me? He was a sinner. He made a wrong decision that drove many people to their deaths and became one of the causes of famine. How many people died because of one person? How could he be given the same opportunity as a saint?