I can't believe that man exists in the same world as me. Tobien. Even thinking his name makes my stomach churn. There's a bitterness in my chest whenever I remember his face—the smug grin, the arrogance in his eyes.
The truth is, I've hated him for as long as I can remember. I hate the way he treated my mother, the way he acted as if the world owed him something. And maybe it does—at least, that's what everyone says. The Hero, they call him. The Savior. But if they knew the truth about him... if they saw what I've seen...
It's almost funny. For all his power and glory, he's just a man. A filthy, wretched man.
Then again, humans have always been like that, haven't they? Back in my old world, they were selfish, greedy, and cruel. And here? They're worse. So much worse.
But that's the irony, isn't it? I'm one of them.
I don't think even my mother knew. She never realized that I wasn't just her son. I was someone else, someone who had lived a whole life before this one. A life where I had nothing. No family. No home. No love.
Back then, I was an orphan. I grew up in the streets, fighting for scraps and sleeping in alleyways. I didn't know what it meant to have a mother. So when I was born into this world—into her arms—it was like a miracle. For the first time, I felt warmth. I felt safe.
She was everything to me. She still is.
But I never told her the truth. How could I? What would she think if she knew I was like her? That I had memories of another life, just like she did? Would she still look at me with those kind, loving eyes? Would she still hold me the way she did?
No, I couldn't risk it. So I stayed quiet. I let her believe I was just a child, her innocent little boy.
But I listened. Oh, I listened to everything she told me.
When I was a baby, she used to tell me stories. She thought I didn't understand, but I did. I heard every word, and I pieced it all together. She was summoned to this world when she was fifteen, along with Tobien and two others. A group of heroes, sent to defeat the Demon King.
And they did. They won the war. They saved the world.
At least, that's what the stories say.
But the truth is more complicated. After the war, Tobien became a hero in name, but in spirit, he became something else. The fame, the power—it twisted him. My mother told me how he changed, how the kind boy she once knew turned into a man consumed by his own arrogance.
She didn't tell me everything, of course. She tried to protect me. She didn't want me to see the worst parts of him. But I saw them anyway.
I saw the way he treated her, the way he looked at other women even when she was in the same room. I saw him bring strangers into our house, laughing and drinking as if nothing else mattered. And my mother—she endured it all.
She endured it for me.
I remember her telling me, once, that I was her only reason for staying. "If it weren't for you, Jargien," she said, her voice soft but heavy, "I'd have left a long time ago."
She didn't say it to make me feel guilty. I think she just needed me to know how much I meant to her.
And I did. I knew.
But it didn't make it any easier to watch her suffer.
She used to joke sometimes, when we were alone. "Grow up quickly, Jargien," she'd say with a small, tired smile. "So you can kick your father's ass for me."
It was a joke, but it wasn't. I could hear the pain in her voice, the quiet plea hidden behind her words.
At birth, they said I was special. The midwives whispered about my mana heart, about the power I held. "A shell of potential," they called me. Born to greatness, they said.
But I didn't care about any of that. I didn't care about power or destiny. All I cared about was her. My mother.
And now, she's gone.
That night plays in my mind over and over again. The way she looked at me, the way she smiled even as the life drained from her. She was everything to me, and Tobien took her away.
I've hated him since the moment I understood what hate was. But now, it's more than that. It's not just hatred—it's a promise.
One day, I'll make him pay. One day, I'll make them all pay.