There are many times people feel regretful for their choices. But the old man never felt like that. Everyday, he lived his life to the fullest, and even now, he never regretted his choice.
An old man lay in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. His body was weak, and his breaths were slow. He knew his time was running out.
Yet, as he thought about his life, a small smile formed on his lips.
He had lived well.
Born in modern times, he had the chance to learn, to explore, and to understand the world in ways people before him never could.
It felt like a miracle to have gathered so much knowledge.
But at the same time, regret sat in his heart. There was still so much more he wanted to do. So many people he wished he could have helped.
As his eyes grew heavier, he made a quiet wish.
"If only I had more time… If only I had another chance to help others. Perhaps, I can be a hero for others, just as some people have been for me."
But he knew better. There was no "next life." Once a person was gone, that was the end.
Or so he thought.
When he opened his eyes again, something felt strange.
There was too much noise. His body felt small, weak, and unfamiliar. He tried to move but found that he could barely lift his limbs.
Confused, he looked around. The faces of several adults surrounded him. Some looked hopeful, but their eyes carried sorrow.
Before he could think too much, a gentle hand reached out and picked him up. He felt warmth, softness, and a sense of care. A voice nearby spoke, addressing the woman holding him.
"My lady, Sir Clyde is here. Here, this is how you are supposed to hold him."
His mind, sharp as ever, quickly pieced things together.
The hand holding him turned from gentle to awkward. It felt a little weird to be held and supported like this, but it was not unbearable.
'They're talking about me.'
It didn't take him long to understand the impossible—he had been reborn. He still had his memories, yet he was in a new body, a new life.
However, that was where the comfort ended for him.
Strangely, he didn't feel as shocked as he should have. But it made sense.
A baby's mind was adaptable, ready to learn and grow. Perhaps that was why he accepted things so easily.
His mind recognized this place, and it recognized the gentle-looking lady looking back at him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear a faint whisper of 'Mother' when he looked at those gentle eyes.
The room fell into a heavy silence. Clyde, as he now realized he was called, simply waited. He didn't know what else to do.
Then, a pair of rougher hands gently took hold of him. He felt his small body being lifted, and after a moment, his clothes were pulled aside.
A pause.
Then, a sharp intake of breath.
A curse.
The hands trembled slightly, but the touch remained gentle.
Then, a voice spoke.
"He cannot be the heir."
Silence filled the room once more. Clyde noticed the pitiful glances directed at him. Though he didn't understand the reason, he knew one thing—his new life had already taken a difficult turn.
The room fell into chaos after the sudden declaration. Voices rose in shock, some whispering in disbelief while others openly questioned what had just been said.
"My lord, what do you mean?"
Someone asked, their voice sharp with confusion and worry.
Clyde wanted to turn his head, to see more of the situation, but his body refused to listen.
He tried moving his fingers, blinking harder, anything—but nothing responded the way he wanted.
His small limbs felt too weak, his vision still blurry. He felt trapped in this tiny body, unable to do anything but listen.
'Of course. I am a newborn. A baby's body isn't developed enough for movement. I need to be patient. Trying to do too much can damage my body. I need to be careful.'
He thought, forcing himself to stay calm.
Was it not for his sharp mind, Clyde would have a lot of problems keeping still. But because of his past memories, curbing curiosity felt a little easier for him.
Accepting this, he focused instead on the conversation around him.
A deep, authoritative voice—one that commanded attention—spoke again.
"He has no Sword Mana. Someone with no Sword Mana will never be able to lead out family. Ah, this is a great loss indeed."
The reaction was instant.
Gasps filled the room, followed by sharp whispers and stunned silence.
Someone let out a soft cry of distress. Then, a dull thud sounded as if a person had collapsed to the ground in shock.
But none of this mattered to Clyde.
He didn't understand what "Sword Mana" was, nor did he care—not yet, at least.
What did matter was the way the people around him reacted.
The weight of their emotions filled the room like a heavy fog. Disbelief, fear, disappointment. As if the words had sentenced him to a terrible fate.
A newborn baby was much more sensitive to emotions than people gave them credit for. And Clyde was currently no different.
Then, a soft, wet noise reached his ears.
Someone was crying.
It took him only a moment to realize—it was his mother.
"My poor child...Life will be hard for him. I regret that he was born this way."
She whispered, her voice thick with sorrow.
Something cold settled in Clyde's chest.
His own mother regretted giving birth to him?
The deep voice—the one they had called "Lord"—let out a heavy sigh.
"There is nothing to be done. We will try again. But since Clyde is the firstborn, he will never inherit the Duke's title. But worry not. As our son, he should lack for nothing in his life."
More silence.
More sadness.
More pity.
Clyde did not feel sorry for himself. He had already lived a full life before this one.
He understood the nature of people, of power, of expectations.
He knew that some things in life carried great weight, and from the reactions in the room, his lack of this mysterious "Sword Mana" was one of those things.
But even with that knowledge, the way they spoke of him—as if he were a mistake, an unfortunate accident—made him uneasy.
He barely had time to process these thoughts before he felt himself being lifted once more.
The hands that held him were different this time. They were smaller, softer than the last pair, but still firm.
"Nanny, take care of Clyde in my stead."
His mother said, her voice trembling,
The woman holding him let out a quiet sigh before responding,
"Of course, my lady. I will care for him as if my life depended on it."
She adjusted him carefully in her arms, holding him close to her chest. For a moment, Clyde felt warmth. A gentle presence. A small comfort.
Then, the door closed behind them.
The warmth vanished.
The soft touch became rough. The arms that had been careful only moments ago now gripped him too tightly.
A sneering whisper reached his ears, sharp and filled with disdain.
"You unlucky child… born useless. Do you know what kind of life you will have? Why did you have to be born like this? You have damned yourself and us all."
Clyde didn't need to understand the full situation to know one thing—his new life was going to be filled with hardship.
The nanny left him in his crib and he instinctively knew that it was the start of a hard life for him.
Especially the first year where the servants cared enough about him to not let him die, but also not go out of his way to make him feel comfortable.
There was no way for Clyde to enrich himself other than to listen around. But that all changed when he began to crawl around.
Because most people could not be bothered to pay attention to someone who would never amount to much. That was why it was easy for him to move around.
That was how he knew a lot about this world and how he got to know a few things. First, this world was like an ancient fantasy world with magic and different regions governed by nobles.
There were also two forces of power in this world-Sword Mana and Magical Engineering. And Clyde's family was a leading force in the Sword Mana faction.
Him being born without any Sword Mana made him a dark spot on his family. And that is why, his servants felt justified to ignore him.
'I guess being in a new world won't make things easy for me either. But at least, I do have some resources at my hand. I will have to grow up a little before I can make use of anything around me though.'