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Volume I: Spring
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Outside a research facility in the dead of night, there stood two men leaving the building.
One such man sighed wearily, seemingly exhausted from a hard day's work.
"Agh, I'm so tired. Boss has been giving us hell ever since the outbreak. What time is it?"
The other man, looking a tad more refreshed than the tired man, checked his phone.
"Hm, if you take a cab, you should get back before midnight."
"Screw that. The cab drivers are charging ten for every mile at this hour. I'm better off walking at this rate."
"There, there. I can give you a ride back. Clark! You coming?"
The two men turned to a third, who was standing on the steps of the entrance. He was fiddling with his pocket with an expression that spoke of annoyance, patting down his pants with an air of defeat hanging from his head.
After a few more seconds, he groaned.
"You guys go ahead. I forgot my phone back in the lab."
The two men shared a look.
The tired one spoke.
"Call us when you get back. And don't forget to be safe."
"Sure thing."
"Have a goodnight!"
"Yeah, you too!"
Clark turned and headed back inside the facility.
He made his way back to the laboratory where his workstation is located.
Switching on the lights, he went over to his desk and searched around the area for his phone.
Where could it be?
The clutter on his table did not help his search.
He spotted his lab coat hanging on a chair. He had left it there when he went to change out of his uniform--
Aha!
Clark grabbed his lab coat and shoved his hand into the pockets, crying out victoriously the moment his hand came into contact with his phone.
Patting himself mentally for a job well done, the man headed towards the door to switch off all the lights.
As he did so, he noticed that there was a switch that indicated a different laboratory left with its lights on.
He saw that the label under the switch read Laboratory C.
For some, this might mean that someone forgot to switch off the lights, but Clark knew better than to think that.
There is only one person he knows that is assigned to that laboratory who is willing to work overtime without having to be told, and this switch indicates this clearly.
You would think he learned something after passing out last time in the middle of the day...
With a sigh, Clark rounded the corner and made his way over to Laboratory C.
The moment he is at the entrance, he sees the familiar figure of a researcher, hunched over a microscope and muttering intently to himself.
"Neo?"
"Hm?"
Came the response.
So Clark was right.
"Aren't you going home?"
"No," The man replied, "The trial vaccine I was working on just finished cultivating. I need to check its reaction to the virus."
At those words, Clark wasn't sure whether to be excited or exasperated.
Doctor Neo Overland.
The man was transferred to the facility during the middle of the pandemic. He was a bit closed-off and hard to approach, but many knew him as some sort of a medical genius.
With a prodigy-like origin story, he became worldwide famous for becoming the youngest medical researcher in history.
Those in the medical fields who specialize in medicine loved him.
Not to mention, he rose to fame after publicizing many research papers, which targetted corporate greed, the problem with health care insurance, and the flawed medical system in the United States of Ameranglo.
That particular research paper brought him into the spotlight for many months in his youth.
And don't let him get started on the scathing essays that dished out problems in other countries...
So yes. Doctor Overland is certainly a genius.
He was a man ahead of his time.
A modern-day Da Vinci... or something like that. Clark doesn't know. He's not all that poetic.
Of course, Clark would agree with this statement of the doctor's genius--
--if he hadn't witnessed the idiot almost faint from hunger!
For a person with so many achievements in his short life, it should have been the first warning sign that the facility was going to deal with a major workaholic.
The doctor is nearly a forty-year-old man, yet he doesn't even know when to eat or sleep.
Work! Work! Work!
He's going to work himself to death!
All he knew was work!
Other than that, the most communication the man had with the rest of the researchers in the facility had only been work-related matters.
Clark, too, wouldn't say they were particularly close, either.
They talked, sometimes.
The only reason he and the doctor are even on a first-name basis was due to a night shift he had a few months back.
Clark had made ramen for the two of them when it looked like the other researcher was just going to work the entire night.
He liked to believe that they were somewhat friends, after that. He managed to sit the other man down for a full ten minutes so he could eat properly. That has to be some sort of achievement, right?
Clark ended up being the one to make sure that Neo was actually eating during lunch hours.
Occasionally, he would even check-in to see if the man had been watered and fed.
Now, however, as he's looking at the man staring intently into a petri dish, Clark thinks that the genius Doctor Overland is about to keel over and die.
And approaching the man's work desk, he saw that the situation is even worse than he initially expected.
The man's lab coat was a rumpled thing, wrinkled and stained from the samples he's been working on. His hair was messy and disheveled, his pallor pale and waxy. He looked like he hadn't been outside for the last six months and is greatly in need of some sunlight.
"Dude," Clark sucked in a breath, staring into a pair of downturn rust-brown eyes that were dulled with exhaustion.
It's a shame since a lot of people consider the doctor's eyes as one of his most attractive features. Unfortunately, they are now lined by dark circles, giving him the appearance of a sick patient.
An attractive sick patient, yes, but still a sick patient, nonetheless.
"You look like shit."
Clark was very honest regarding his opinions.
The other man raised a brow at this statement, his face stuck firmly with an unimpressed look as he made his retort. "Thank you for your astounding observation, Clark. If you were going to come in here and insult me, then at least make yourself useful and hand me another petri dish from the fridge."
Clark snorts. "Neo, when was the last time you went home?"
The man pauses in his movement, his expression softening from its offended appearance to that of thoughtfulness. Clark sees him contemplated the question.
"Hmm... I think... I was home on Sunday..."
Clark wanted to facepalm.
"Neo, that was a week ago."
The researcher frowns. "Oh."
Another disappointed sigh followed. "I know you've been working hard, but we can't have you working yourself to death. It's hard enough that we're low on people and everyone's relying on you to lead us, but you need to take care of yourself and trust the rest of us to do our part. Please."
He watched as the other man averted his gaze, not willing to make eye contact with him as he fiddled with the microscope.
"The world won't stop just because I'm resting. As you said, I'm leading this project. I have to do my part in helping."
"It also won't stop if you're dead." Clark snapped.
The man flinch at his words.
"Listen, you're doing enough. You're basically carrying the entire research--but, it would be even better if you can take a break and relax. I would suggest going home, but I know you won't listen to me. Everyone is happy to take some of that workload off your hand if it gets too much. We're a team. So please, at least take a nap."
Clark sees the man turn his gaze over to the battered sofa across the room.
"That's what the couch is for."
This statement is met with more silence.
And then, "Please don't tell me you've been sleeping on the couch."
No answer.
Clark wanted to smack this idiot on the head!
"Goddammit! Fine. Whatever."
He stormed out the door and stomped his way towards the exit of the building.
And then proceeded to make a U-turn and march back into the laboratories.
Entering his workstation, he opened the mini-fridge he shared between him and his teammate and brings out a yogurt drink.
He goes back to Laboratory C.
"Here."
He slams the yogurt drink in front of the microscope.
The other researcher looks up from his notes and sees the drink.
His face grows curious.
"What's this?"
"Probiotics." Clark gritted out. "Good for your immunity. Helps you not die. Take it and go to sleep, Neo. I mean it." He shoots a look at the couch meaningfully. "If I see your dead body in the morning, I'm donating it to science."
The edge of the other man's lips twitched, indicating amusement at Clark's words. Thankfully, much to Clark's relief, he nods his head obediently.
"Good." Was the gruff response.
He leaves the lab and exits the facility with a huff, shaking his head at the man's sheer stubbornness.
Prodigy, his ass. The full-grown man can't even understand the limits of the human body.
With one last look at the building, Clark sighs and leaves the premise.
---
Neo sits alone in the lab, pouring all his energy into his research.
In front of him was a petri dish he had been observing, a sample of a cultivated serum swimming inside. To the layman, it may look like a mix of chemicals and egg proteins.
To him, it was a scene of carnage.
His sample had won against the virus.
This was it. His success. His victory.
He's cracked the code.
Humanity might just be saved.
A rare smile appeared on Neo's face. He quickly jotted down his notes, voicing out some of the results that had happened within the petri dish--
A sharp pain shoots through his head.
Neo winces.
Huh?
Messaging the side of his temple, he could feel the ache die down to the point of discomfort.
It was an indication of exhaustion.
How long has he been working?
Looking at the clock on his desk, he saw that it was currently two in the morning.
He had been checking on the growth and immunity of his eighth and final vaccine sample and lost track of time.
Clark will be very upset with him in the morning.
As the headache continued to throb, Neo is reminded of Clark's words.
Maybe he should take a nap. He hasn't slept for a few days.
No one would mind if he just closed his eyes for an hour or two, right?
The couch is starting to look more and more appealing as he begins thinking about it...
Finally, mind made up, Neo cleans off his workstation and stands up.
He instantly regrets it.
A rush of dizziness attacks him from behind. He squints a little, his sight blurry. Black spots start appearing in his vision, swirling together like a kaleidoscope. The brightly lit laboratory begins to darken little by little. He feels his body swaying, his balance feeling off.
It was a very dissociative feeling.
An out-of-body experience.
Around him, everything was moving slowly, fading into the dim black that edged his vision.
The last thing he remembered was the spotlessly white laboratory floor appearing to be moving closer and closer--before the dull thud of something heavy hit the ground.
All was black.
---
When he opened his eyes to a lavish bedroom, he knew he was back.
Back to the beginning; to the life before his last.
Before he became Doctor Neo Overland and regretted all the evil deeds of his past, trying to redeem himself of his sins.
It occurred to him that he is no longer in that strange new Modern world.
Neo stared at the ceiling, the dim light in his eyes boring apathetically into the distance, thinking of nothing and everything all at once.
He had just lost something. He had just gained something. He has had two chances to become something.
It hit him so quickly, he barely had the time to process his emotions.
Thirty-seven years he spent, repenting.
He hasn't done enough--yet... here he is.
He couldn't help the tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. They blinded him and skewed his vision, becoming two leaky faucets that he had no control over. The rancid feeling that soured his noses was an indicator of a breakdown.
He could already feel the waves of emotion unpacking from his mind; memories upon memories that he tried so hard to repress.
"Sorry..."
Amidst the morning sun and the singing of birds, you could barely hear the sniveling sound of a boy as he cried for those he had left behind.
"Sorry..."
"... I'm... sorry..."
Once again, he is Nazareth Everette Odum, the son of a dead whore and an illegitimate child of the Odum family.
In that lifetime where he was the sinner with blood on his hands and a short life deemed both fruitless and irredeemable.
The path he walked was a lonely trail. Behind him lay the bodies that were undeserving of their fates while ahead of him was something so brilliant, he could never touch it with those filthy hands of his.
He had committed so many wrongs for that unattainable dream. For that worthless goal that even he knew was a useless endeavor.
He sought for the impossible, and in doing so, he died a death that was deserving for a half-mad criminal.
But he had not drowned in the flames of hellfire when his eyes closed for a final time.
Instead, he had found himself in that modern world.
Reborn as an orphan, abandoned at the orphanage as a baby, and adopted by an elderly couple.
The beginning of his new life was not a reward that someone like him deserved.
The elderly couple was not rich. They were ordinary, middle class, and lived in a small home that was just enough for a family of three.
But it was enough.
It was enough to feed him, clothe him, and allow him to go to school. It was enough for the three of them to be happy.
He was loved. He knew he was loved despite the lack of materials and riches he had grown up in, in his last life.
In that new life, he worked hard and studied even harder.
He studied seriously, unlike in his past life, in order to help the elderly couple and the society of that world. He wanted to repent for his crimes and wicked deeds. He had thought he had time to repent for all his mistakes.
He studied medicine and became a medical researcher. He was helping people every day and giving back what he can to the elderly couple. He was making vaccines and writing brutal research papers to aid in the betterment of society.
He worked himself as hard as he could.
And now he is most likely dead.
Can you die of exhaustion?
As a medical researcher, he knows that the answer is yes.
However, Neo is fully aware that he's a hypocrite who disregards his own health.
After all, he just died of overwork, inside a laboratory all by himself without realizing it. He didn't rest and didn't take care of himself like what the elderly couple and even his colleagues had occasionally nagged him about.
He should have listened.
What's the use of him if he was dead?
Neo Overland died, leaving behind the elderly couple and that world, which desperately needed medical help and vaccines. He left behind millions of people who needed the vaccine and abandoned them.
A new type of exhaustion flooded his body, now that his bitter tears ran dry and the snot in his nose stopped leaking. He was tired of this. Very, very tired.
He could only lay on his bed like a salted fish.
"Screw that." Or not.
If there was one aspect of himself that followed him in all two lifetimes, Neo believes it is his determination to do anything to achieve what he wants.
On one hand, he lived a life trying and failing, but still relentlessly pushing himself to succeed. Of course, his goals weren't exactly good, and the way to reaching that goal resulted in heavy bloodshed and a terrible ending.
On the other hand, he became a medical researcher that died because he was a workaholic trying to cure a deadly virus.
Both scenarios aren't all that good, considering he dies in both.
You would think he had learned something out of all that...
Neo crawled out of bed and went to stand in front of his dressing mirror.
The reflection that stared back at him belonged to a sixteen-year-old boy.
He took a quick glance out the window. He saw the trees, the birds, the flowers in full bloom.
It is spring--the beginning of his second year in senior high, approximately two years before the day he died.
The pale youth in the mirror had the same vermillion eyes he once despised; the same long, black hair that reached the middle of his back, tangled in knots and looking like a mop.
Neo remembered that in order to look more similar to his father, the Duke of Odum, he had grown it out. But instead of looking dignified, he appeared more like a wraith since he never learned how to maintain the wild mane.
As for his eyes...
A feeling of melancholy tugged at his chest.
They were the only features he gained from his mother, a whore his father had slept with during a drunken exploit into the Red Light District in his youth.
Those eyes turned him into the black sheep of the Odum family. From the Duke to his two younger siblings, all of them had sapphire blue eyes that were incomparable to any other shades of blue.
Neo had desired those blue eyes in the past and hated those who had eyes that were similar.
However...
He smiled fondly at his reflection.
Perhaps he will bring some flowers to his mummy's grave this lifetime. She might appreciate it.
Alouysia Webbers was a charming woman--one of the most beautiful and talented prostitutes of the Red Light District.
She was a beauty priced for only those that could pay in gold.
However, despite a night of passion, Nazareth's father was drunk and had no memories besides the loss of his virginity.
Coincidentally, Alouysia fell pregnant and decided to keep the child because she wanted something to call her own.
These two factors resulted in the Duke having no knowledge of a bastard child.
When Alouysia died of illness, rumors sprung up of a black-haired whoreson wandering the streets of the Red Light District.
It was by sheer coincidence that the Duke decided to investigate the matter and discovered he had an unknown bastard child living in a brothel house.
Nazareth was taken to the Duke's Household after that and found that the Duke had already married.
But what really set off the trigger for the future events to come was the meeting between Nazareth and his two younger half-siblings.
Or more specifically, his younger half-brother.
The heir of the Odum Household.
Most of Neo's past memories were full of envy and resentment for this brother of his.
Shining like the sun.
The perfect heir of the Duke.
His little brother.
With these types of thoughts toward the boy, Nazareth grew up to be a wicked and scheming villain.
He wasn't sure why he was the way he was.
Perhaps he hated the Duke for not coming for his mother and letting her die. Perhaps he simply hated the fact that he was a whore's son and a bastard child.
Neo couldn't remember the reason for his hatred, but one thing was for sure. What he most desired was to be the Duke of Odum.
And seeing a little boy no more than a year younger than him become the center of the Duke's world--his successor, his beloved son, the talented second Young Master--turned Nazareth cruel.
Nazareth was a person that was no longer human. The more he continued on his path of anger and spite, the more everyone resented him and wished for him to die. He harmed people and destroyed lives during that one-sided rivalry he held between him and his brother.
Feared and hated, he grew to be the crazy scummy troublemaker who knew nothing besides plotting against those he should not have.
Which ultimately led to his downfall.
There was a young commoner who came to the Noble Academy during Nazareth's third year of senior high. He was transferred into the second year with his younger brother.
This commoner was the trigger of his demise.
A timid but hard-working youth. That was what Neo thought when he remembered him. He tormented the boy so much because by hurting him, he was able to harm his brother.
Nazareth grew envious of this boy.
A commoner, not even a half-blooded noble, yet, he gained admiration and respect from all those around him.
His brother and his friends loved him. His sister and her friends adored him.
Nazareth wanted him dead.
Thankfully, the boy did not die. Nazareth was caught, in the end.
Neo recalled that night. It had been raining heavily--one last winter storm before spring could bloom its parting buds.
He had taken the boy from the academy dorms and attempted to toss him down a steep cliff into the roaring waters.
This was the night before his graduation. Nazareth was leaving the academy soon.
Beyond those shiny gates were people waiting for him. He had consequences that he needed to face for all that he had done.
So he was desperate to kill that commoner.
To bring him down with him.
It was a sword that saved the boy.
Specifically, it was his brother's sword, with the emblem of the Odum family engraved into its handle, that pierced Nazareth's chest and ultimately saved the commoner boy's life.
And at that moment, when Nazareth was able to see a glimpse of his younger brother's face, it was not the face of a boy he tormented, but the face of a hardened youth facing down a demon.
It was that moment that Nazareth realized what he had become in those ten years of living in the Duke's Household.
His brother and his friends all looked at him as if they finally managed to exterminate a great evil.
Nazareth only thought besides those looks had been that his mummy would be disappointed in him.
The commoner boy was saved.
Nazareth was left to bleed out.
In the cold stormy night, he bled slowly in a pool of blood. He remembered feeling a lot of regrets.
Guilt had not set in until his final moment.
And when he finally drew his last breath, all he saw was light.
And then he became Neo.
Neo opened his drawers and found a pair of scissors.
He stared at them for a long moment and then back at his reflection.
He looks like a wraith.
Snip! Snip! Snip!
He is Neo.
Nazareth is dead.
Sorry, mummy, but your taste in names was a little too interesting if I'm being honest.
Locks of black hair were cut one by one with neat precision.
They landed on the floor like a black whirlpool, becoming bigger and bigger as Neo cut them down with no mercy.
There was little hesitation besides trying to figure out how short he can cut before he goes bald.
In the quiet bedroom, the only noise consisted of scissors.
Neo chopped and chopped until he was satisfied.
Until he can look decent in his own eyes.
Until he looked less like Nazareth and more like himself.
A quarter of an hour later, he finally put down the scissors.
He stared at the mirror.
What looked back was a neat and clean-looking youth.
All in all, it was a very satisfying reflection to look at.
---
Step 1. After dying in your second life, be prepared to wake up in the body of your past life whom everybody hates.