Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I never wished for much. I just wanted to live an ordinary life.

I loved those peaceful, uneventful days—devoting myself to each passing moment, even if they were dull.

From time to time, unfamiliar memories would surface.

Images of myself living another life, not as the ‘me’ of this world but as someone in a completely different one.

Those fragmented memories were the driving force that allowed me to live more earnestly in this world. What I was in those memories, and what kind of world that was, never really mattered. They never came back vividly enough for me to know.

All that mattered was that they made me realize this life I’d been given might be a new chance—one I should cherish even more.

I decided to live each moment doing my best.

So I would have no regrets.

However, that wish became meaningless the moment I heard the voice of a god. My hope for a normal life drifted far away.

“Van Descartes.”

The instant I heard the voice, I knew. The being speaking to me was not human.

It was an existence far beyond the comprehension of mankind.

We called such beings gods.

“……”

Yet, for some reason, what I felt was not awe or reverence—but discomfort toward the unknown.

“There’s no need to be so wary.”

For a being called a ‘god,’ reading the mind of a mere creation like me would surely be nothing difficult.

Two pure white wings, hair of radiant gold, and a faint halo that shimmered softly—she appeared exactly like the ideal image of a goddess I had always pictured unconsciously.

A warm and benevolent goddess.

Perhaps gods really did appear in the form that humans imagined them to be.

I couldn’t see her face clearly because of the halo, but she seemed to be smiling.

“I’ve revealed myself to you directly because I have a proposal for you.”

“…And this proposal—is it something someone like me actually gets to choose?”

In that moment, I felt as though my whole body froze.

It seemed that what I had just said displeased her.

The chill wrapping around me soon vanished, but her tone still carried clear irritation.

“Of course. I’m merely making an offer. The choice will always be yours.”

“Then I’ll listen before I decide.”

I said I would decide after hearing her out, but truthfully, I was already content with my life.

A small rural village tucked away in a remote corner of the empire.

It was a tiny settlement of fewer than two hundred people, but I lived each day there to the fullest.

Sometimes I went fishing, sometimes foraging. We hunted together, shared small festivals from time to time—a perfectly ordinary, peaceful life.

This was the very life I had longed and yearned for.

“Van Descartes. I appoint you as a Hero.”

A Hero…

One chosen to bear the destiny of saving the world.

I had heard that heroes were born as humanity’s hope, chosen by the gods themselves.

“I refuse.”

“…May I ask why you would refuse?”

“I’m fully satisfied with the life I have now. That’s why I wish to live normally, and die normally.”

“You must already know that if you become a Hero, you’ll gain power beyond anything you can imagine. Moreover, someone like you—who possesses such rare qualities—would receive the blessing of the gods themselves. You’d become the strongest among all heroes in history… And yet you refuse? Just to live as a villager in some remote corner of the empire?”

“That’s right.”

The divine blessing granted to heroes—

A miraculous gift said to turn even an ordinary man with no talent into the strongest of humankind.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

“I can’t comprehend it. If you fulfill the mission given to a Hero, you’ll gain wealth, honor, and even the peace you desire. Are you truly saying you’ll throw all that away just for a simple, ordinary life?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you confident you won’t regret that choice?”

“Yes.”

──A silence fell between us.

“Very well. Then, the Hero for this era shall be chosen elsewhere.”

“Thank you for respecting my decision.”

“Just remember—I did give you the chance to choose. Farewell.”

As the goddess vanished, the surroundings were swallowed by darkness.

---

I had a disturbing dream.

“Young master, are you all right?”

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Cecil. She looked at me with her usual expressionless face that showed no emotion, but her voice carried a trace of concern. Glancing around, I realized I was in my bedroom.

“…Cecil. What happened?”

“After your duel with Young Lord Legion, you suddenly lost consciousness and collapsed.”

I raised my upper body and rotated my arms to check my condition. My muscles screamed in pain, likely from overexertion.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Exactly one full day.”

So, I had overstrained myself and lost an entire day.

‘I need to focus on recovering first.’

Knock, knock.

Right then, someone knocked on the door.

“Young master, it’s Turk. May I come in?”

“Come in.”

The door opened, and an elderly man with neatly combed white hair entered, dressed impeccably.

It was the head butler of the Winterbell Ducal Family—

Turk Winterbell.

Though not of the family’s bloodline, he was a self-made man who had been granted the family name—an unprecedented honor in its history.

As the closest aide to Arkan Winterbell, Duke of the North and head of the Winterbell family, Turk wielded considerable influence.

For someone of his position—who would never appear without a significant reason—to come to me personally was unusual.

“What brings you here, Turk?”

“The Duke has returned after subjugating the monsters.”

That was unexpected news.

The head of the family, Arkan Winterbell, had left to subjugate a calamity-class monster that had appeared in the Great Western Forest.

The expected time for the campaign and return had been estimated at about two months.

Yet, he had returned after subjugating the monster in less than a month.

‘As expected of the man hailed as the strongest swordsman on the continent…’

Among the four individuals always named in debates about the greatest on the continent, Arkan Winterbell, the ruler of the North, was one of them.

Moreover, since Turk had personally come to find me, it was clear this wasn’t merely to inform me of my father’s return.

“That’s good news. Is that all you came to say?”

Turk’s gaze fixed on me.

Those dark eyes—deep as a silent night—seemed to search within me, as if trying to read something hidden.

“…You seem different somehow, young master.”

“Do I?”

A master warrior’s perception differed greatly from that of ordinary people. With senses honed to the extreme, they could feel things unseen and unheard. Perhaps Turk, too, had sensed some kind of unfamiliarity about me.

“Yes. Your eyes have changed. To put it metaphorically… it’s as though you’ve become a battle-hardened veteran who’s seen and survived countless wars. Curious indeed. Did something happen while I was away?”

“…Nothing at all. Everything’s the same as ever.”

Sharp old man.

After a brief silence, Turk spoke again.

“…Well, if that’s the case, I won’t pry further. But I have one more message to deliver, young master.”

“What is it?”

“The Duke has ordered that you attend the dinner banquet tonight.”

“A dinner banquet, huh… What wind could have blown for Father to summon me of all people?”

“As you know, I’m merely a messenger who conveys the Duke’s orders. As for his true intentions, that’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

A banquet.

Or rather, to put it plainly—

It was one of the regular family meetings.

Only those of the Duke’s direct bloodline could attend, and conversely, anyone who attended was considered a potential successor to the headship.

Of course, ever since I became half-paralyzed, I hadn’t been invited to a single one.

‘So Legion must have reported everything to Ron Winterbell properly.’

Arkan Winterbell had never been fond of me, but after the accident, he hadn’t so much as looked my way.

If not for the recent incident involving Legion, he might have forgotten he even had a youngest son.

‘Still, there’s nothing in this household that escapes his notice.’

That was the kind of man my father was.

A cold-blooded man of iron, the kind who wouldn’t bleed even if stabbed with a needle. The day my mother passed away, he didn’t shed a single tear—he simply went back to his duties as if nothing had happened.

The absolute ruler of a household wielding near-absolute power.

To him, a child was nothing more than someone to prove his own worth—or not. Those who failed to prove their value were discarded without hesitation, left to fade away naturally through exclusion.

If something—or someone—was useless, he would abandon it, even if it was his own blood.

Survival of the fittest.

That was the unspoken law of the Winterbell family.

“I’ve delivered all the necessary messages, so I’ll take my leave now.”

Turk gave a polite bow and exited the room.

“Cecil.”

“Yes, young master.”

“Prepare me for the banquet.”

“Understood.”

As someone who couldn’t use my lower body, her assistance was indispensable.

With Cecil’s help, I finished getting ready, and together we left the annex.

Without a word, she silently pushed my wheelchair forward.

The quiet creak and roll of the wheels echoed softly through the heavy silence.

Why didn’t she ask me anything?

Even after seeing her supposedly crippled master stand up and defeat a fourth-class knight with ease, she hadn’t voiced a single question.

Why was that?

Did she think that even asking such a thing was beyond her station?

Though there were gaps in my memory—side effects of regaining memories of my past life—one thing was certain.

She had stayed by my side for a very long time.

That was why I couldn’t understand her even more.

I was the youngest son, crippled from the waist down, with no standing in the family.

Why serve someone like me?

‘What are you after, Cecil?’

“It’s been five years.”

“What has?”

“This is the first time you’ve left the annex since the accident.”

“…Has it been that long?”

──The wheelchair came to a stop.

“Young master.”

Her tone was as formal and impersonal as ever.

“Yes.”

“There’s no need to be impatient. You don’t have to trust me either. I will always remain by your side, so all I ask is that you stay by mine.”

“……”

“Speak only when you wish to speak.”

It was as if she had peered straight into my heart.

“Whatever it may be.”

“…All right.”

Cecil fell silent again and began to push the wheelchair forward.

We passed through the garden and finally entered the main building.

Each time we moved down the hallway, the servants we passed stopped in shock before hastily bowing their heads.

It was understandable—after all, a half-crippled man who hadn’t shown his face in years was suddenly rolling through the halls. They must have thought they were seeing a ghost.

I understood.

As we continued down the long corridor, the massive doors of the great hall came into view. Standing before them were Turk and two first-class butlers.

Upon seeing me, Turk knocked lightly and spoke.

“The youngest young master has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

With a loud creak, the grand doors swung open, and every gaze in the hall turned toward me.

With Cecil’s help, I entered and took a deep breath before speaking in a low, steady voice.

“Ran Winterbell, candidate for the next head of the Winterbell family, greets the Duke.”

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