Chapter 2 - Diary of Ren Lenxington

(Ren's POV)

I grabbed the door handle, taking a steadying breath. Despite my past as a hitman, I couldn't help but feel a hint of nerves. I had no idea who this "Ren" was or who her father might be, but one thing was certain—I'd need to act the part or risk serious trouble.

Opening the door, I saw a man in a suit with his back turned. He was tall, well-built, with black hair streaked with gray near the temples. As he turned to face me, I hesitated. "Father...?"

He stared blankly before clearing his throat. "Young Master, it's me—Arnold. Your father, the Marquess, just stepped out to the bathroom."

The silence that followed was thick with awkwardness. Seriously? I thought he was Ren's father…

Feigning discomfort, I touched my temple, wincing as if in pain. "Apologies, Arnold... I'm not feeling well. I hope you understand."

His expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. "Shall I fetch you some medicine, young master?"

I shook my head, still holding the act. "No need. I'll manage." I offered a faint smile, hoping it looked reassuring.

Arnold gave a slight nod but kept an eye on me, visibly worried. We waited a few minutes until the door on the right side of the room opened, and a tall figure stepped out. He was even taller than Arnold, with silver hair slicked back, meticulously styled. His piercing blue eyes gave him a commanding presence, but there was a certain coldness to his demeanor.

Bowing slightly, I murmured, "Father." I hope this is the real one this time...

The man nodded, his voice low but calm. "Ren." His tone was soft yet held authority, and I was taken aback by the gentleness in it.

"Yes, Father?"

He moved to the table and took a seat, every gesture radiating elegance. "Tomorrow, the Duke's son will visit. He may also train with you, so I expect you to show him hospitality."

I nodded. "Understood, Father. I won't disappoint you."

He gave a nod of approval. "You may go."

Bowing in thanks, I took my leave.

Heading back to the room where I'd woken up, I retraced the path easily. Thankfully, my hitman instincts helped me memorize routes quickly, whether for escape or tracking.

I sighed as I entered the spacious room, trying to process everything. How was I supposed to live here and act like I was the real Ren? The thought of suddenly waking up in an unknown world, in a body that wasn't my own, was almost surreal.

Looking around, I spotted a table with a small drawer beside it and decided to check it out. Opening the top drawer, I found five thick journals. Curious, I picked one up and flipped it open to find the word Diary scrawled on the first page. Under normal circumstances, I'd never read someone else's diary, but survival came first.

After hours of reading, I began piecing together Ren's life. The more recent entries detailed her training in swordsmanship, piano, painting, and dance. The earlier diaries painted a picture of a fragile, sickly child. Her parents, in desperation, had tried every remedy to strengthen her. Finally, a fortune teller advised them to raise her as a boy, claiming it would improve her health. Remarkably, it had worked, and even though her true gender wasn't hidden, her parents feared that stopping might worsen her condition.

I closed the last journal, murmuring to myself, "So, I'm twelve now."

Returning the diaries, I opened the second drawer and found an unopened letter. The words "To you who became me" were written on the back. I hesitated before carefully opening it and reading the note inside:

To the person reading this letter:

I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I've had dreams for weeks that I was supposed to leave this body years ago, yet I lingered. I can't explain where I'm going, but I know I won't return. Please, take care of my parents.

This isn't the only reason for your arrival. Your soul originally belongs to this world, and there is a mission you once left incomplete—to eliminate something. I'm afraid I can't tell you more.

P.S. I hope my diaries help. Thank you.

—Ren Lexington

As I finished reading, I glanced out the window, noticing that night had fallen. The sight took my breath away—two moons, one blue and one orange, hung in the sky. Beautiful.

My mind raced with questions. What mission? And my soul originally came from here? It felt unreal, like a dream. But deep down, I knew it wasn't.

After a long, hot bath—where I noticed the faucets used some kind of magic stone—I changed into fresh clothes and climbed into the massive bed. Today had been exhausting, but I knew it was just the beginning.

Tomorrow, there would be much more to face. I closed my eyes, letting the fatigue wash over me, and drifted off to sleep.