It was raining in Tokyo.
The kind of rain that made neon lights bleed into the pavement and turned every street into a mirror of distorted colors.
On the steps outside Shinjuku Station, a young man lay motionless.
Blood slowly mixed with rainwater and trickled down the concrete.
People gathered.
Some shouted.
Some recorded.
Some simply stared.
His name was Hiro Shiito.
Nineteen years old.
A university student.
An ordinary boy with unordinary regrets.
…Huh.
So this is how it ends.
I always thought I'd die cooler than this.
Truck-kun.
A terrorist attack.
Saving someone dramatically.
Not… stairs.
Of all things.
Stairs.
I can't feel my hands.
My head is warm.
That's probably bad.
Someone's yelling near me.
"Is he breathing?!"
"I think he hit his head!"
Yeah.
I did.
Thanks for the observation.
My vision blurs, and the city I've known my whole life begins to melt into streaks of light.
It's funny.
Not "haha" funny.
Just… ironic.
I kept telling myself I'd start living properly tomorrow.
Tomorrow I'd study harder.
Tomorrow I'd get fit.
Tomorrow I'd stop wasting time.
Tomorrow I'd become someone worth remembering.
But tomorrow never came.
Tokyo continued moving around him.
Cars passed.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Rain fell without pause.
The world did not stop.
It never does.
His heartbeat slowed.
Thud.
…Thud.
…Th—
Darkness swallowed him.
"Regret detected."
The voice did not echo.
It simply existed.
Neither male nor female.
Neither near nor far.
Hiro's fading consciousness flickered.
Ah… great. Now I'm hallucinating.
"Subject: Hiro Shiito."
"Age: 19."
"Cause of death: Cranial trauma."
You didn't have to say it like that.
"Compatibility confirmed."
Compatibility?
"With the Conquest System."
System?
Oh no.
Don't tell me this is—
"Would you like another chance?"
The darkness pulsed.
Fragments of his life flashed by.
His mother's tired smile.
His father's quiet disappointment.
Unfinished dreams.
Unsent messages.
A life half-lived.
If this is a dying dream…
Might as well go along with it.
…Sure.
"Consent acknowledged."
The world shattered.
Pain did not return.
Instead—
Pressure.
His consciousness compressed, folded, reshaped.
Like clay being forced into a new mold.
Memories trembled.
Identity blurred.
And then—
Crying.
Not around him.
From him.
The scene shifted.
Far from Tokyo.
Far from Earth.
Inside a grand chamber illuminated by chandeliers and candlelight, a newborn's cry pierced the air.
Servants bowed deeply.
A silver-haired nobleman stood beside a trembling woman on a silk-covered bed.
"My lord," the midwife whispered, voice shaking with relief. "It's a boy."
The man stepped forward.
His presence commanded the room.
Armor rested on his shoulders despite the late hour.
A ruler who never fully removed his guard.
"The heir of Valemont," he declared.
Outside the castle walls, the border territory of Valemont was not celebrating.
Snow-covered fields stretched toward a distant mountain range.
Watchtowers burned faintly in the distance.
Smoke rose where bandits had raided days before.
The land was unstable.
The treasury nearly empty.
Enemies circled like wolves.
And in the cradle of that crumbling domain—
The newborn opened his eyes.
Light flooded his vision.
Stone ceilings.
Velvet curtains.
Medieval clothing.
Swords.
This… isn't Tokyo.
Tiny fingers moved in front of his face.
Small.
Soft.
Not his.
Inside his mind, something flickered.
[Conquest System Activated]
Host: Lucien Valemont
Status: Infant
Territory: Border Region – Declining
Survival Probability: 27%
Twenty-seven percent?
I just respawned!
That's not even fair!
The screen shimmered faintly, visible to him alone.
Primary Objective: Survive.
Secondary Objective: Conquer.
Hidden Objective: Rewrite Fate.
Across the room, the silver-haired lord—Duke Alaric Valemont—studied his son carefully.
The baby's gaze did not wander aimlessly.
It was focused.
Too focused.
"…He has sharp eyes," the Duke murmured.
The mother smiled weakly. "He will grow strong."
Outside the castle, horns sounded faintly in the distance.
War was coming.
Debt was rising.
The Valemont territory stood on the brink of collapse.
And its heir—
Had a survival rate of twenty-seven percent.
So this is my second chance, huh?
No trucks.
No meteors.
Just political instability and near-certain death.
Great.
But if I really died once…
If this isn't a dream…
Then this time—
I won't wait for tomorrow.
The infant's small hand clenched.
The system screen pulsed faintly.
Somewhere deep beneath the castle, ancient magic stirred.
And far beyond the kingdom's borders—
Something noticed his arrival.
Thus, Hiro Shiito died in Tokyo.
And Lucien Valemont was born into a world already preparing to swallow him whole.