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Back to the past

  Rowan stared in the mirror at the face of a man he had killed five years ago.

  The face belonged to Mordecai Ashvale, a talentless scumbag who had entered high society like a storm and left just as swiftly in a casket after trying to steal Rowan’s fiancée.

  Rowan had cut down Mordecai in an unbecoming fit of rage. While the initial cut across the chest hadn't been fatal, the healers of House Ashvale hadn't managed to save their young master, and Rowan had ended up on trial for Mordecai's murder.

  The case was ultimately dismissed with a large settlement to the Ashvale family, who were rumored to be in dire financial straits. Yet despite the dismissal, his father, Duke Halcrest, had been understandably infuriated by the incident, as the Ashvale family was the only Archduke family in the kingdom, right below the king. While they had entered a decline, such an ancient family wouldn't take the killing of one of their own so lightly.

  A truth Rowan learned as his house suddenly began to decline. Contracts got canceled, random plagues spread across their territories, long-standing allies turned their backs, and finally, Duke Halcrest died under suspicious circumstances.

  Even my fiancée, Sylvaine, was killed. In three short years, I went from being on top of the world to wallowing in despair—all because I put down this despicable bastard. His face twisted into a frown. If only I had completed the system's mission, I might have reclaimed everything.

  [The chosen hero failed to stop the ???]

  Floating on the mirror was a single sentence. The hero in question was likely him, Rowan Halcrest. He had unlocked the system at his lowest point. It had promised him great power and fortune... all he had to do was defeat the ???, which he later called the insurgence. An unstoppable mass of pure chaos that would bring destruction to the world.

  He had failed—pushed to the brink, he'd perished in his final stand against the insurgence, and now he was back here—five years in the past and stuck in the body of Mordecai Ashvale. Just looking at this bastard's devilishly handsome face brought back so many bad memories.

  "Is something the matter, Young Master?"

  Rowan looked away from the floating words taunting him for his failure and eyed the maid, fixing up his hair in the corner of the mirror. She was beautiful, with fair skin and tantalizing crystal blue eyes that softly pulsed with the latent arcane shifting in her body. If she were human, he would fall for her.

  But she was not. With shark-like teeth, pointed ears, and claws, the maid was no human. She was a frost elf. Evil creatures that had been recorded to dine on human flesh.

  Rowan hadn't absorbed any memories from Mordecai, nor had he ever interacted with a frost elf before—so he was unsure if having a frost elf as a maid was typical for Mordecai. The Ashvale family was incredibly mysterious, never being seen in public. This was why Mordecai attracted so much attention when he first appeared in high society. Unfortunately, his charm and good looks were overshadowed by his superiority complex, lack of talent, and disregard for others.

  He had been... no, he was hated. If Rowan hadn't rushed to cut him down, a long line of people forming in the shadows would have been happy to do the deed in his stead.

  The maid looked at him curiously, an uncomfortable silence sprawling between them. He needed to speak—say something—anything. He didn't know anything about her or about Mordecai. His only clue was the large scar across his chest, which suggested he had awoken in this body at some point after he had struck Mordecai down.

  Wait, if I'm here in Mordecai's body... who is in mine? Are there two of me in this timeline, or is the Rowan Halcrest of this timeline different from me? The large scar suggests that the conflict of five years ago occurred in much the same way.

  "Young Master?" The elf had paused her styling and looked concerned. "Should I go and get the Archduke for you?"

  Absolutely not! That's the last person I want to see right now. Rowan thought internally. The Archduke, likely the man behind the downfall of his Halcrest family, would figure out he was not Mordecai within seconds. In this world, while rare, some people did get possessed by spirits upon death. The last thing he wanted was to be imprisoned and tortured to try and exorcise him from the body and bring Mordecai back.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  An outcome that Rowan knew was impossible. Mordecai was dead. He had killed him... and well, now he had taken his place. Maybe he was pretty similar to a haunted spirit?

  "No," Rowan said, surprised at the coldness of his own voice. "Summoning Father will not be necessary."

  "I understand, Young Master," the elf nodded and returned to her work.

  Silence returned between them, but Rowan's mind was racing. This was a rare opportunity. Having just woken up, it gave him a good alibi if he asked this maid any strange questions.

  He needed information and fast. Otherwise, he might not survive in the Ashvale estate until the end of the day.

  "Say, maid, do you have a name?"

  The elf paused and looked at him in surprise.

  Shit, how did I mess up already? Was it because I called her a maid? Or was Mordecai aware of her name before? Oh no, has this been his maid since birth or something?

  "I've been your maid for twenty years," she began, and Rowan tensed. This body was terribly weak compared to his past self, which had stood against him and failed to stop the insurgency. While he doubted the elf would harm him—he was the son of an Archduke—it was terrifying to realize that this girl could crush his neck, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  This sense of powerlessness really matched the pathetic and talentless Mordecai Ashvale that he had easily struck down with a single slash.

  The elf smiled, showing a row of inhuman teeth. "Yet you never once asked for my name before."

  Mordecai blinked. "He... ahem, I didn't?"

  Just how egotistical was this guy? I wasn't exactly a saint in my last life, but I at least had the courtesy to learn the names of those I interacted with daily. If I don't want to stand out, I will have to act worse. At least until I have gained enough power to survive Archduke Ashvale's scrutiny.

  "No, you've never even looked at me in the eyes before." The elf said, "Is the Young Master feeling okay?"

  This was a chance.

  "No, I think I'm suffering from a terrible headache after the attack. It's hard to think straight."

  "That's a shame." The elf's tone was slightly cold—lacking the care of a maid who had seen their Young Master grow up. It seemed Mordecai's relationship with this maid, and likely the rest of the household staff, was not good.

  Rowan eyed the maid and met her gaze. "Tell me, what is your name?"

  "Mira," she replied simply. "The Archduke gave me the name when he..." her facade cracked slightly, "honored me to join this house."

  So she is a slave here, then. Rowan noted.

  "Well, Mira, tell me about this," he gestured to the scar.

  "You lusted after the wrong man's woman and paid the price," the elf said as she continued combing through his hair with her claws. "Rowan Halcrest cut you down, and you spent a month recovering here. I was surprised you woke up, considering how weak you are."

  "Watch your tone," Rowan said—and then caught himself. That... hadn't been him. It had felt almost instinctual to reply like that. How Mira talked to him seemed to flip a switch in his head.

  "Apologize, Young Master," Mira replied, her voice dripping with forced professionalism.

  But she was right. The body was likely still weakened from months of lying in a bed and recovering, but even then, Mordecai was terribly weak. The question was, why? Was he just lazy in training? Was there something holding him back?

  The problem was he had no idea. Closing his eyes, he contemplated his situation. While he knew the future and what was coming, there was no chance he could stop it with this body—at least in its current state. But he didn't remember hearing that Mordecai was super talented; otherwise, why would House Ashvale be in decline? If he wanted to train this body up and triumph over the insurgence, he would have to enter the academy and dabble in high society. But in such a short time, Mordecai had already managed to entirely ostracize himself from high society, and he was likely too old to join the academy now.

  He needed personal power, access to the future powerhouses of the country, and money. All of which he didn't currently have. Sighing, he reluctantly opened his eyes—only to be glad he did.

  The words on the mirror had changed. They were no longer taunting Rowan—the failed hero; instead, they were extending an olive branch of hope to Mordecai.

  [Your soul has been chosen to unlock the system]

  The gift that had allowed him to almost reach the pinnacle in his past life—the system. It had turned a downtrodden noble into the last hope of humanity. While he had ultimately failed, it had given him a fighting chance.

  With its help and his knowledge of the future, he might be able to polish Mordecai from trash to a diamond in the rough.

  You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I wonder if that quote still applies when time travel is involved? Mordecai was undoubtedly a villain in the eyes of everyone, including myself, so have I become the villain? Or is the world telling me to rise up again as its hero? How laughable; I was never a hero to begin with. I looked down on Mordecai, but I was no better in many ways.

  He blinked, and the words changed again.

  [As a reward for being selected, you can select a legendary skill from the following three options...]

  "Mira, I'm feeling exhausted—leave me for today." He said, his eyes never leaving the golden words on the mirror as if they would vanish and leave him nothing should he dare to look away.

  "Understood, Young Master," she said, almost relieved to be free of his presence. She swiftly left the room without another word, clicking the grand door to his bedroom shut on the way out.

  Free of scrutiny, Rowan could finally smile.

  "Show me the options," he said, and the system did not disappoint.

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