I stood, observing the scene before me, a grand ballroom filled with people and an abundance of food. It had taken an immense effort to get to this point, yet as I watched the crowd indulge in their gluttony, eating and drinking to their heart's content, a chill ran up my spine. It was the kind of chill that signaled something ominous, the distinct feeling that whatever was coming, I wouldn't live to see another day.
It felt strange to experience such a deep sense of dread after achieving the success I had worked so hard for. But success in my particular field came at a cost, climbing to the top often meant stepping on the heads of others. As a result, any failures I faced were no different from those of my enemies: my head crushed beneath their feet, forcing me into submission.
Submission may have been the coward's way of preserving one's life, but I chose it willingly, a tactical retreat, allowing me to fight another day. The enemies who had once brought me the greatest shame were now the same ones laughing in hypocrisy, waiting for someone else to bring about my downfall. After all, now they were the ones who bowed their heads as I passed by.
Running caravans was a challenging field to master. Transporting the goods of powerful nobles was no easy task; their valuable products were at the mercy of both logistics and the security provided by hired mercenaries. Now, as a leader in the caravan business, anyone who saw my family's crest thought twice before attacking my men or the goods I was transporting.
"Are you doing well, my love?" I asked, turning to look at my wife, who was happily sipping her wine. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from drinking a bit too much.
"Of course, thank you so much for planning this event. You knew I needed this," she replied, grabbing another glass of wine from a passing server. "It's wonderful to see so many people."
Though I gave my wife everything she asked for and more, I didn't love her. After achieving success and essentially buying my way into nobility, tradition required that I have a partner, a custom I found outdated and irrelevant. To solve this issue I married the daughter of a nameless baron, hoping she would be satisfied with the occasional luxury gift. But she was sharp, quickly realizing the wealth my caravan protection business was bringing in. Soon enough, she began demanding much more than I had ever expected.
For example, the elegantly red-stitched dress she wore was embellished with the finest jewels and silk. Her rainbow pendant, a stunning fusion of rare gems and precious metals, some of which even nobles found them difficult to obtain.
She was pretentious, constantly flaunting the wealth I had accumulated. It was a sobering thought, especially considering she came from nothing. She offered little beyond a solution to the kingdom's outdated tradition.
She continued drinking, before eventually leaving my side to pursue something more interesting. I signaled one of my men to keep an eye on her, ensuring she wouldn't embarrass herself any further.
"May I have a moment of your time?" someone interrupted my thoughts, pulling me away from my self-loathing over the choice of my wife.
I turned to face the person intruding on my solitude. Just the sight of his face only deepened my irritation.
"Viscount Rouland, it's a pleasure to see you. Of course, I have a moment to spare," I said with a smile, lying through my teeth.
Viscount Rouland gestured for me to follow him to the balcony. I gave a quick glance to one of my guards, signaling him to follow and stand watch, ensuring no curious onlookers would intrude on our conversation.
As we stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air hit my face, waking me up slightly. Inside the estate, the air had been warmer, thick with the heat of all the bodies dancing. The old Viscount wasn't much to look at, frail and aged. Yet his temper was another matter entirely. Despite his appearance, he carried himself with a confidence that made it seem as though he owned the place.
"I've heard you've been at it with your inventions again," Count Rouland began, his voice cutting through my silence as I gazed out, enjoying the view of my gardens.
"You've designed a new caravan that can withstand nearly any weapon and is easy to repair if damaged." Viscount Rouland shook his head in disgust.
"Do you realize that will eliminate the rest of your competition? Even I will struggle to make profits" he continued, his eyes fixed on me, sending a piercing glare.
He didn't realize that I knew he was secretly involved in other people's affairs. He would pay bandits to ambush rival caravans, steal their goods, and then sell them outside the kingdom. He was cunning, which is why he resented my invention of offering improved, reinforced caravans.
I took a moment to consider my response, carefully crafting it as diplomatically as I could. In truth, I couldn't care less about Viscount Rouland's concerns. After all, he was one of the very ones who had betrayed me when I was just starting out in this business. I had trusted him with my caravan routes, allowing him to profit from fewer losses on his own runs. Yet, he had leaked the information to everyone, rendering the routes useless. Now, bandits and rival nobles laid in wait, ready to plunder the caravans foolish enough to traverse those forsaken paths.
"Count Rouland, I intend to leave the caravan running business," I said, my voice steady.
"Why rely on chance and luck when I can profit from other businesses that do the caravan running? I'd imagine you'd be willing to pay a pretty penny to be the first to own these newly developed caravans. If not you, then someone else will." I turned to meet his gaze, unwilling to back down.
"You do not understand. Or perhaps you fail to understand on purpose. This will not go well with your competitors nor the hired mercenaries that guard the caravans." Viscount Rouland replied with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Perhaps you misunderstand me," I said, my frustration growing.
"I was being diplomatic, but since you clearly don't understand, let me indulge you further. You made it very clear when I was under your tutelage and control that you weren't in the business of making others wealthy, you were only in it for yourself. I've taken that lesson to heart, and I've decided to put it to use. I don't care for your requests or opinions." I quickly replied, my frustration intensifying.
As I continued to stare into Viscount Rouland's face, I took satisfaction in watching him fumble for words. Ultimately, though, he composed himself and entered the ballroom without a hint of hesitation.
I took a moment to collect myself before reentering the ballroom. The warmer, thicker air inside took a moment to adjust to. The dancing had already begun, and the lights dimmed slightly, casting the spotlight on the center of the ballroom.
As the host of the event, it was naturally my responsibility to initiate the next dance. I scanned the room for my absent wife, finding her engaged in conversation with other noblewomen. From their expressions, it was clear they were somewhat uncomfortable. I quickly made my way over to them and took my wife away.
"Pardon me," I said, bowing my head slightly, "I must begin the next dance with my wife."
As the music began, I swiftly took my wife's hand and positioned her in the proper dancing form. She was sluggish, but I made sure to support her weight as we moved across the floor. The tempo of the dance quickened, making it a bit more difficult to keep the rhythm.
"You're a dead man." She managed to slur into my ear.
At first, I thought she was fooling around, but then a sense of dread crawled up my spine. Realizing her warning wasn't a joke, I scanned my surroundings, searching for a potential assassin.
My mistake was thinking it was just one attacker. The doors to my estate were shattered as a unit of men burst in, opening fire. Bullets tore through the air, striking anyone who had the misfortune of attending my event.
Even my wife quickly collapsed to the floor, a plethora of iron bullets lodged into her body. The white quartz floor was stained with blood. What I hadn't realized until then was that I, too, had collapsed beside her, as sharp, intense pain began to surge through my body. I had been hit, but the shock and adrenaline had kept me from feeling it until now.
Although the pain was overwhelming, I could hear the steady march of footsteps approaching from the direction of the broken doors. My vision was gradually fading, and my eyes couldn't fully focus on the individuals now standing over me.
"You should have listened to me. All of your enemies found common ground—and that common ground was you. We despised you so much that we made a temporary coalition just to take you off your pedestal." Viscount Rouland said, as I finally was able to recognize his voice.
"Innovation is good, but only in moderation," Viscount Rouland continued. "Too much innovation can lead to the dissolution of jobs and businesses—something you tried to do to us with your silly inventions. We couldn't let that happen. Where would we fit in the hierarchy of wealth then?" He asked, knowing I had no answer.
As I struggled to utter my last words, all that escaped my mouth was more blood. Viscount Rouland grinned, clearly pleased by my discomfort and pain. He turned to look at my wife.
"Your wife betrayed you. That silly woman turned on you the moment we promised her your wealth." Viscount Rouland ruthlessly teased.
"Too bad she didn't know she was also going to die. Anyhow I've enjoyed my time playing with you. But it must come to an end" Viscount Roland stood and gestured to his men.
"End him" Viscount Roland ordered.
That was the last thing I heard and saw before everything went dark. I wish I could've said I felt the last shot that ended up killing me, but I didn't. Instead, I recalled an inner voice speaking to me.
Inventor System initiated.
Assigning Class: Inventor
I expected to see the white light and eternal paradise.
Instead, I woke up once again in a room that was unfamiliar to me. When I opened my mouth, instead of words, only cries escaped. I soon realized I was a newborn child who had recently exited the womb and canal of whom I presumed was my mother.
"Sir it's a boy!" An older woman claimed. I presumed she was the midwife in charge of taking care of my mother during labor.
""This is wonderful news! Did you hear that, Celene, my dear? We have a boy on our first try!" The man I assumed was my father was overjoyed. I watched as he kissed my mother on the forehead in celebration.
I took in the rest of the room's details, hoping I'd struck it rich in the family lottery. Sadly, I was mistaken. From the condition of the walls, it was clear that while we weren't exactly poor, we weren't wealthy either. It seemed I was still facing another uphill climb toward financial success.
The walls were painted a bold, offbeat shade of yellow. There were no chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, just a few modest lamps casting a dim light on the walls. The bed, I noticed, was simple and unassuming—nothing like the grandeur I had grown accustomed to in my previous life.
My father's clothes were practical yet had a subtle style to them. From what I remembered of my previous life, he seemed to resemble a mid-tier merchant. He didn't wear extravagant jewelry or adorn his clothing with gems, yet there was a certain simplicity and elegance in his attire that spoke of his trade.
He looked young and robust, surprisingly tall—though that might have been a distortion of my newborn perspective. His hair was disheveled, black with streaks of gray, and his eyes were a lively shade of gold. His smile was warm, exuding a quiet humility.
I tried to speak once again, but all I could hear were my own cries, even though no tears fell from my eyes. It was fascinating that I still retained the memories of my previous life, along with the intelligence far beyond that of a typical newborn. My mind wasn't that of a child; it was the mind of the person I was when I died in my previous life, a twenty-five-year-old adult.
"What should we name him, dear?" my father asked, looking at my mother as she lovingly cradled me in her arms.
My mother looked thoughtful, her mind racing as she searched for the perfect name for me. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, her black hair clinging to her skin from the effort of labor. Despite the strain, she remained beautiful. Her eyes, a striking contrast to my father's, were a piercing silver.
"Let's name him Altair," my mother said, the pronunciation of my name rolling off her tongue with a pleased smile.
"A wonderful name, my love," my father said. "I will let you rest with the baby; I have some matters to attend to." He quickly placed another kiss on my mother's forehead before leaving the room.
Uncertain of what lay ahead, I scanned my surroundings, hoping to find any clues about my family in this new world. However, my parents had other plans. I spent the entire day and night in the same room, and it seemed it would be some time before I could explore this unfamiliar realm, I had suddenly found myself in.