{Raven's POV}

Seventeen years.

That's how long it's been since I was reincarnated as Yoru Itsuki. So far, I haven't encountered anything apocalyptic—or even remotely supernatural. It hasn't been easy accepting that this time, I've been dropped into a perfectly normal world.

In my previous lives as Raven, everything was about survival. Fighting, killing, just trying to stay alive. Each day felt like a gamble, with lives being the cheapest commodity in the chaos.

Sometimes I wonder how many times I've been through this cycle. My first life was normal too, just like this one. I was a university graduate, job-hunting, obsessed with music, art, and novels like everyone else. Then one day, some idiot thought it was a great idea to rob the restaurant where I was eating. And me, being the smart one, had to die in the line of fire.

After that, life just got worse.

I woke up in the ruins of a farm, the sole survivor of a monster horde. No powers. No special abilities. Just me. Not long after, I was conscripted as a soldier to fight demons. And yeah, the funniest part? Still no powers. I had to learn everything from scratch, clawing my way through countless battles. Days and nights blurred together in an endless fight for survival. We fought like madmen—only to die right before the final battle.

And then, the cycle repeated.

But this time, there were no demons. Instead, there were aliens.

In each of those past lives, the struggles only seemed to grow. They stretched out like the endless horizon, with each existence lasting longer than the last but filled with greater suffering. The nightmares morphed from monsters to wars, from demons to aliens, yet the core of it remained the same: survival at any cost.

As time passed, I mostly forgot the details of those lives—faces blurred, names faded like old photographs. The horrors, the battles, the fleeting moments of joy—they all melded into a haze of experiences. Yet, one thing lingered, a bittersweet echo that refused to be silenced: the songs.

Every life came with its own soundtrack. Some were filled with upbeat melodies that made my heart soar, while others were haunting ballads that left a weight in my chest. Each song carried a memory, a piece of those I left behind—friends, lovers, and even fleeting acquaintances whose paths intersected mine for just a moment.

Whenever I find myself humming a tune, I'm reminded of the faces that once smiled at me, the laughter that filled the air, and the quiet moments shared beneath starlit skies. Those memories cling to me like shadows, a constant reminder of what I've lost and the paths not taken.

I often wonder if I'm meant to carry these remnants forever. As Yoru Itsuki, I navigate through life with a slight sad smile, feeling the warmth of the sun but always aware of the ghosts watching my every move. They're the phantoms of my past, echoing in the corners of my mind, urging me to remember.

Here, in this ordinary world, I engage with others, but I maintain a respected distance, playing the role of an observer. I watch as they go about their lives, blissfully unaware of the weight of memory I carry. Perhaps it's better this way—keeping my heart shielded from the ache of connection, preserving the remnants of those who walked with me through the darkness.

Yet, despite my efforts to move forward, the songs always find a way back, weaving through my thoughts like threads of an intricate tapestry, reminding me that even in the normalcy of this life, the past will always be a part of me.