( from ch. 26)
As I lay on my bed, staring at the ornate ceiling of my chamber, my mind drifts back to the life I left behind. A life filled with mistakes, regrets, and the gnawing emptiness that comes with a lack of purpose. Back then, I'd bury my problems in alcohol and gamble with money I didn't have, hoping to win something—anything—that could make me feel alive again. Joy was a distant memory, replaced by fleeting highs and bitter mornings.
Now, as I wipe away the unexpected tears, I can't help but laugh at the irony. Here I am, in a world where money flows like water, where problems aren't about survival but about growth. Yet, I still carry the scars of that other life, etched into my very being. It's why I sent those gold coins to Benny and Lucia without a second thought. Not because I trust them completely—though I do—but because I know what it's like to lack support when you're trying to build something.
Benny reminds me of myself back then, a dreamer without resources, scraping by on wit and desperation. Giving him 500k gold coins isn't just an investment; it's my way of giving someone the second chance I never had.
At an age of 60 yet being burdened by the weight of making the mana infused gold mine a success...
If he succeeds, it'll be a testament to what I could've been. If he fails… well, at least he'll know someone believed in him.
Lucia, though, is different. She's the kind of person I could've only dreamed of meeting in my past life—someone competent, hardworking, and utterly reliable. I'd like to think the note I left her wasn't just about the money but also about acknowledging her worth. People like her don't come around often, and I'll be damned if I let her carry the weight of this kingdom alone.
Still, the doubts linger. Is this all just a fleeting dream? Will I wake up back in that dingy apartment, surrounded by the stench of failure? The thought terrifies me more than I'd like to admit. But then, I remember the progress—the bustling markets, the thriving farms, the people smiling within these walls. This kingdom, flawed and chaotic as it is, feels like proof that maybe, just maybe, I was given this second life for a reason.
I roll onto my side, staring at the heavy ledger on my bedside table. It's filled with plans, figures, and ideas—most of them not my own. I've delegated so much, yet the kingdom thrives. Maybe that's the lesson I need to learn: leadership isn't about control. It's about trust, about giving people the tools to succeed and stepping back when they do.
For now, though, I'll let the weight of the day fade away. Tomorrow, there will be more decisions, more plans, more… everything. But tonight, I'll let myself dream—not of the life I left behind but of the one I'm building. A life where joy isn't void but abundant, not just for me but for everyone within these walls.