The dream didn't begin with darkness.
It began with a house.
Not the Morvain mansion. Not the sleek modern estate with glass corridors and training halls.
It was smaller. Older. The kind of house that smelled faintly of dust and evening tea. Wooden floors that creaked when you walked too fast. A narrow staircase that complained under careless footsteps.
My old home.
I stood in the living room, barefoot, wearing clothes I hadn't worn in years. No status screen. No cards. No mana humming under my skin.
Just me.
Or… someone I used to be.
My parents were there.
Not David. Not Maria.
The other ones.
My father sat on the sofa, newspaper folded neatly on his lap. My mother moved around the kitchen, humming a tune I had forgotten I still remembered. Ordinary. Peaceful. Painfully normal.
For a moment, I simply watched them.
Then the walls trembled.
Not violently. Not like an earthquake.
They… softened.
As if the world itself had decided that solid objects were optional.
The wooden shelves blurred. The old clock on the wall melted into light. The ceiling stretched upward, higher and higher, until the small living room was no longer small.
It was changing.
My mother's face wavered.
For a second, she was the woman who raised me.
Then her hair lightened.
Her posture straightened.
Her eyes turned the familiar fiercy red.
Maria Morvain stood in her place, holding the same teacup, wearing the same gentle smile.
My father followed.
The newspaper became a document tablet. His tired shoulders grew broader. His hair became darkened blue.
David Morvain replaced him, adjusting his glasses as if nothing strange had happened.
I took a step back.
"No," I whispered.
The floor beneath me shifted.
The narrow house expanded, unfolding into wide corridors and high ceilings. The old living room became the Morvain family hall. The small window stretched into tall glass panes that let in silver morning light.
And everywhere I looked, the same thing happened.
Friends.
Relatives.
Teachers.
Faces from my past life overlapped with faces from this one, merging and separating, as if the world couldn't decide which version of my memories it preferred.
Alex from college laughed—and became a junior knight trainee.
My old neighbor turned into a servant I vaguely recognized.
Scenes from two lives stitched together with careless hands.
I felt dizzy.
This wasn't nostalgia.
This was… erasure.
At the end of the hall, someone stood alone.
A boy.
Black hair. Thin frame. Plain clothes.
No mana. No status screen.
Just an ordinary boy.
He turned when he heard my footsteps.
And for the first time in the dream, the world went quiet.
No shifting walls.
No merging faces.
Just the two of us.
He looked exactly like I used to.
Not Julien.
Noah.
My old name.
He studied me with mild curiosity, as if I were an interesting stranger he met by accident.
"You look confused," he said.
His voice was calm. Not accusing. Not mocking.
Just… tired.
"Aren't you supposed to be the one confused?" I asked.
He smiled faintly.
"I already had my turn."
We stood there, facing each other. Two versions of the same soul, separated by a lifetime and a miracle.
Around us, the blended world continued to blur, but neither of us looked away.
"Are they… disappearing?" I asked.
"Not disappearing," Noah replied. "They're becoming one."
I frowned. "That sounds suspiciously philosophical for someone who failed in math twice."
He snorted.
"Hey. I passed the third time."
Silence settled between us.
Not awkward.
Reflective.
I glanced at my hands. They were mine now—stronger, steadier, carrying faint traces of mana even in a dream.
"I was afraid," I admitted quietly. "That choosing this life meant abandoning you. Abandoning them."
Noah looked past me, at the merging figures in the hall.
"You didn't abandon anything," he said. "You carried it."
I hesitated.
"Then why do I feel like I'm betraying someone just by moving forward?"
He stepped closer.
Up close, the resemblance was unsettling.
Same eyes.
Same scar on the left eyebrow.
Different weight behind them.
"Tell me something," he said. "What was the first thing you wished for… when you realized you were alive again?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the answer came too easily.
"Peace," I said. "And… to enjoy life. Just once. Without regrets."
Noah nodded, as if he had expected that.
"Then don't forget it."
He lifted a hand and placed it over his own chest.
"Power. Revenge. Saving the world. Those come later. Or maybe never."
His gaze sharpened.
"But if you forget that first wish…"
The world around us began to dissolve into white.
"…then you'll lose more than just a dream."
"Wait," I said. "What about you?"
He smiled.
A small, sincere smile.
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied. "I'm you. Just… the part that already made peace with dying."
The light grew brighter.
His figure began to fade.
"One more thing," he added, his voice echoing.
"Yes?"
He tilted his head.
"Don't pretend you're someone else."
And then—
I woke up.
I sat up in bed with a sharp inhale, heart racing, fingers clenched into the sheets.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
My room.
My bed.
My life.
For a few seconds, I just stared at the ceiling, letting my breathing slow.
'That was… unpleasantly introspective for a dream.'
I rubbed my face.
Then something cold brushed against my mind.
A familiar sensation.
I turned my gaze to the air in front of me.
Blue light shimmered.
A translucent screen unfolded.
[Emotional Turmoil Detected]
[Unique Trait Activated: Happy Face]
The words floated there, calm and clinical.
I stared at them.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
My lips twitched.
Not upward.
Sideways.
Then, before I could stop it, a sound escaped my throat.
A laugh.
Not soft.
Not polite.
A real, unrestrained laugh that bounced off the walls of my room.
I covered my mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking.
"So this is how it triggers now?" I muttered between breaths. "Existential crisis equals forced comedy?"
The screen remained.
Unmoved.
Unimpressed.
I dropped my hand and let the laughter fade into a crooked grin.
No.
Not a grin.
A smile that felt… light.
Different from before.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, walking toward the mirror.
The boy reflected there had dark blue hair, two different eyes.... one is red and another one is blue, and a faint smile that didn't look forced at all.
"Let's not forget what your aim is."
Noah's voice echoed in my memory.
I met my own gaze.
"How could I forget?"
I laughed again, this time softer.
"My first aim is to enjoy life," I said aloud. "Because this is my second chance."
The words settled comfortably in my chest.
For the first time since transmigrating, the lingering question finally dissolved.
Who am I?
Not a replacement.
Not a thief.
Not a ghost wearing another boy's body.
"I'm Julien," I said quietly.
And after a pause—
"And I'm Noah too."
Same soul.
Same regrets.
Same wish.
Different world.
The status screen flickered once, as if acknowledging my conclusion.
The forced smile remained.
But it no longer felt artificial.
I turned toward the window, pulling the curtains open.
Morning flooded the room.
Another day another start.
More training.
More trouble.
More cards that definitely wanted to me migrain someday.
I stretched, feeling a strange, peaceful certainty settle in.
'Enjoy life first,' I reminded myself.
Then a thought slipped in, uninvited.
'If this is how my trait reacts to fatigue…'
I glanced back at the still-active status screen.
'…what happens when I'm truly exhausted?'
The smile on my face didn't fade.
But something in my chest tightened.
Just a little.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Was Happy Face really here to protect me…
Or to hide something even I wasn't ready to face yet?