Chapter 1: Prologue

What will be written on my tombstone?

Simon asked himself this question through a haze of fading consciousness.

The answer did not come to mind.

Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.

His consciousness flickered in and out like a blinking light.

He could not budge an inch, as if his entire body had turned into stone.

Three days ago, he had collapsed from a heart attack.

Since that day, Simon could feel death rapidly approaching with his entire body.

A kaleidoscope of his past twenty-three years of life floated slowly before his eyes.

Simon was born as the only son of a wealthy businessman named Grayan.

Because he was born prematurely, the midwife predicted he would die soon.

It wasn’t that the midwife held a grudge and cursed him.

Simon was simply that fragile.

She told Simon’s parents to be prepared to bury their child first.

However, whether it was due to good luck or a persistent life force, Simon survived much longer than anyone expected.

He narrowly made it past the first week after birth.

He passed his first birthday even while appearing as though his breath might stop at any moment.

He reached adulthood while carrying all sorts of illnesses.

And Simon’s parents, who had prepared to bury their child, were buried in the ground before him.

Simon’s mother died a year later, unable to overcome the aftereffects of childbirth.

His father died in an accident when Simon was seventeen.

The midwife’s prophecy was entirely wrong, but that was merely another tragedy.

Simon lived on, but he was frail the entire time.

He suffered from minor ailments all year round.

His physical strength was miserable.

He had collapsed several times due to heart attacks.

Because of that, he had to live his entire life being careful, and then careful again, as if walking on thin ice.

He spent most of his childhood in hospitals.

Because he had to protect his body, he had never even run properly.

He had never left the hometown where he was born and raised.

He had never attended school or studied like others.

He simply became so accustomed to living cautiously that it became natural not to dream of anything.

When his father died in an accident at seventeen, everyone envied Simon as he inherited a massive fortune and the family business.

However, nothing changed for Simon himself.

Leaving everything to his uncle, Dalton, he continued a quiet and empty life.

Twenty-three years is by no means a short time.

Nevertheless, Simon could not recall a single happy memory.

Neither earth-shattering sadness nor heart-wrenching agony came to mind.

Like a diary forgotten after only scribbling the beginning, his life in retrospect was merely empty.

Ah, can this even be called living?

Simon asked himself this question.

He lived for twenty-three years, but he was merely attached to breath; he could not be said to have truly lived his life.

That had now become a regret he could not bear.

Did Simon not want to run through fields while feeling the cool breeze?

He always wanted a life where he loved someone passionately, poured his heart into something, and burned through his youth, even if he suffered from failure.

But Simon could not live that way.

He was worried about his health, and the concern of those around him was a burden.

Later on, the life that others lived so naturally became unfamiliar and terrifying, and he became unable to do anything.

If I knew I would die like this, I should have just done everything I wanted to do.

Even if I died of a heart attack while running through a field, that would have been better.

If I had, at least I would have properly remembered how cool the wind felt while running and sweating.

A brief light entered Simon’s eyes.

His blurry vision cleared, and the scenery of the room appeared.

There was no one in the room where Simon had spent most of his time from birth until now.

It was bitter beyond measure, as it seemed to represent the life he had lived.

There were people who occasionally entered the room, but they were all scoundrels who were only interested in his fortune and when he would die.

Heartless humans who burst into the room without permission, checked if he was still breathing, and then left abruptly.

He was angry at those people, but he didn’t even have the strength to be properly angry.

His vision soon blurred again.

No matter how much he regretted it, it was too late.

The shadow of the Reaper was already cast before him.

Simon closed his eyes in resignation.

Before long, the Reaper’s scythe cut his throat.

Fortunately, that moment was not painful.

It was something to thank the painkillers for.

Thus, Simon Grayan concluded a life of twenty-three years—short if short, and long if long.

And soon, he opened his eyes again.

Simon slowly pushed up his eyelids and frowned habitually.

The room was still dark thanks to the thick curtains.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but Simon instinctively realized he had woken up early in the morning.

Because of his long-standing insomnia, he had only managed to fall asleep at dawn, so his body felt like lead.

Rather than feeling refreshed, he felt tired.

He tried closing his eyes again, but his nerves were on edge and sleep would not come.

Simon sighed and sat up.

His body felt limp like a cotton doll without a wick.

His limbs felt incredibly heavy.

‘It’s morning again.’

The fact that he had to live through another day was so irritating he could hardly stand it.

What should I do to kill time today?

With this weak body, even a simple walk was exhausting.

There were only a few things he could do while stuck in his room.

And since he had been doing them for twenty years, he was sick of them.

There were no friends to visit him.

The only person he was close to was his one fiancée.

But she was in a situation where she could no longer visit him.

Simon reached out and pulled the cord to summon a servant.

It was a long cord designed so that he could call a servant without getting out of bed.

After sitting blankly for a moment, the butler entered the room with a few maids.

They were pushing a trolley loaded with the medicine Simon had to take.

“Did you have a peaceful night?”

“…….”

Simon merely reached out his hand to the butler without answering.

He didn’t want to waste energy on a mere greeting.

It might be hard for ordinary people to empathize, but for him, opening his mouth to speak consumed a significant amount of energy.

The series of actions—tensing his whole body to produce sound and exhaling long breaths—was a great burden on his body.

So, Simon hardly spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.

“You should at least accept a greeting.”

The butler spoke in a sarcastic tone.

This butler was a new person who had been hired about a year and a half ago.

The previous butler, Rut, had left Simon’s side due to family matters.

A month had passed since the new butler was hired, but Simon had not grown accustomed to him at all.

The butler let out a long sigh.

Simon reflexively flinched his shoulders.

It was not behavior a butler should display in front of his master.

Not only his attitude, but also his sarcastic tone and the terrible smell of tobacco—everything about the new butler grated on Simon’s nerves.

However, since he was a butler brought in directly by Uncle Dalton, and it was true that he himself was lacking, Simon was just enduring it.

He was confident in his ability to endure.

“Now, take your medicine.”

The butler pressed a medicine bottle into Simon’s hand.

Simon frowned.

He was taking a great deal of medicine under a doctor’s orders, but he had never felt his condition improve.

Simon grimaced and swallowed the medicine in one gulp.

When he handed over the empty bottle, the butler handed him another liquid medicine bottle.

He repeated this five times.

It meant there were five medicines Simon had to take specifically in the morning.

Besides these, there were three for lunch, four for dinner, and occasionally about three medicines taken urgently as needed.

“Ugh.”

He felt like vomiting because of the fishy and bitter smell unique to liquid medicine.

Watching this, the butler did not hide his disgusted expression.

“I assume you won’t be having a meal?”

“Yeah.”

He was already full just from the liquid medicine.

Furthermore, when five different liquid medicines mixed in his stomach, a strange smell came up his throat every time he exhaled, ruining his appetite.

If he could, he wanted to throw them all away.

But he was afraid something might go wrong if he didn’t take them, so he couldn’t do that either.

“Yes, then please rest.”

The butler did not urge him further and left Simon’s room.

It was a cold attitude, but Simon preferred it that way.

He sat on the bed and let out a long, long sigh.

He noticed a maid hesitating and looking at him, but he ignored her because he was tired.

‘What should I do now?’

Nothing came to mind.

Simon had been frail since he was a child.

While children his age went to school, studied, and started working, he did nothing.

Because he was frequently ill.

Even now, all the businesses of the Grayan family were handled by Uncle Dalton, and he let the butler handle personal matters.

Simon didn’t have to do anything.

But that was only for a day or two.

Every time the thought that he was a useless person occurred to him, he felt suffocated by helplessness.

‘I’d rather just die… Ah…?’

Suddenly, a massive sense of incongruity washed over his entire body.

‘I definitely… died, I died…?’

Simon had definitely collapsed from a heart attack.

The shock of the moment he fell and the sensation of the floor’s coldness seeping into his bones were vivid.

He could not forget that cold and fear even if he tried.

Afterward, he died slowly and alone in this room.

Without anyone visiting him.

The scenery in the room was also strange.

The blankets were thin and the pajamas he was wearing were thin.

Come to think of it, the servants were also wearing clothes that were too thin for winter.

Panicked, Simon’s eyes darted around.

A newspaper left by the butler caught his eye.

On the front of the neatly folded newspaper, it was clearly written:

June 30, 1891

Is June 1891 not six months ago?

The last newspaper Simon had read was the one from the morning he had the heart attack, December 2, 1891.

What is going on?

Have I finally become sick in the mind as well as the body?

Anxiety seized him.

His heart was beating like crazy.

No. It can’t be. I haven’t gone crazy. But….

Simon was extremely confused.

He stumbled toward the window.

It wasn’t a conscious action.

Impulsively, he threw open the curtains.

In an instant, morning sunlight poured in.

Startled, Simon squeezed his eyes shut.

It felt strange because the sunlight touching his closed eyelids was warm.

He slowly opened both eyes.

‘……!’

He could look down at the manor’s front yard through the window.

The first thing that caught his eye was the colorful rose garden.

The green of the plants, which could only be seen in early summer, felt so vibrant it was almost translucent.

The sky was clear and refreshing, and the warm air in the atmosphere made his heart feel cozy.

A perfect early summer landscape was spread out before him.

It was a cliché expression, but it was truly blindingly beautiful.

It was undeniably summer.

He, who had died in the winter of 1891, was perfectly alive in the summer of 1891.

If that death was not Simon’s delusion, there was only one answer.

Simon had returned to the past.

“My goodness.”

Simon slumped down on the spot in shock.