Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator

In his previous life, Julius had as many enemies as he did admirers—such was the price of fame.

From the nobles of the surrounding manors to dark sorcerers. From heathens to the devout. People with various grudges caused numerous accidents with the aim to kill Julius.

Acanders Fern.

He, too, was one of the countless people who held a grudge against Julius. The reason why Allen had remembered his name was simple.

‘He was just so memorable.’

There were many who harbored a grudge or thoughts of revenge towards Julius. But even among that grand number of people, he stood out.

His father, Baron Fern, lost his livelihood when he expressed opposition to Julius’s ascension to lead the county. Furthermore, even after his death, Julius robbed him of his family’s reports. In order to avenge his father, Acanders banded together and led those who also had a personal grudge against Julius.

To his end. 

They succeeded in driving Julius into a corner.

‘…Though unfortunately, they failed to kill him.’

Dark sorcerers, heathens, and the devout, too, had all failed in the past. Yet, it shocked Allen that Acanders had succeeded in at least driving Julius into a corner.

The reason why Allen wanted to meet with him was to involve himself in his plans.

‘The citizens who caused that fuss at the Thanksgiving festival.’

He wanted to reach out to one of them. So, after making his request of Inellia, they began their endeavor to track him—ultimately finding Acanders in Carvelle, about three days away from Elle Round.

In the present, close to a month had passed. Allen had succeeded in figuring out, to some extent, Acanders’s location, the size of the group he’d gathered, and even some about the situation he was in.

“It looks like he’s just a drunk who hangs out with alley gangsters, but…”

Behind the scenes, he’d taken part in the events of the Thanksgiving festival, gathering together those who held a grudge against Julius.

“The situation is gradually changing, but he—himself—is not.”

Unlike in his previous life, his family had been broken up, so his desire for revenge had grown much more intense than before. Unlike his previous life, which had ended along with his father's—where his father had apparently evaded paying taxes but escaped before the trial, resulting in the destruction of his family.

‘But that wasn’t the end.’

Julius—the main culprit in his family’s ruin—gained praise from doing so in the name of rooting out corruption, all while he had no idea whether or not his father was alive.

This would be the impetus for Acanders’s revenge, which began by secretly gathering those who’d been impacted by Julius’s actions.

* * *

* * * 

Thud.

Allen closed his eyes for the carriage that would take them to Carvelle, the city where he’d been gathering his to-be comrades. 

“It’s worth involving myself.”

It’d be worth it to his future self.

‘He can't do everything by himself.’

Even though he’d grown, it was a daunting situation—gathering all those people together.

‘It isn’t that efficient, is it?’

He wasn’t sure if this was the best way to get things started. But what if he were to go to the Academy? It’d be even more difficult.

That's why, rather than himself, he brought in another—someone competent enough to gather those holding individual grudges against Julius, manage them, and coordinate with him.

‘It's rare to find someone this well suited for the job.’

One with both a motivation for revenge and the skill to execute it.

“I’m not sure whether they’ll trust me or not, but…”

Trust was something that needed to be built gradually, anyway.

The carriage moved quietly, unlike usual, towards Carvelle.

* * *

The carriage passed through inspection without any trouble.

It wouldn’t have been difficult to pass though quietly anyway, so long as he decided not to reveal his status as heir to the county. After dropping off the carriage, Allen followed Inellia to the bar where Acanders was staying.

He didn’t forget to wear a mask and robe to conceal his identity. 

The road running through the slums was intricately tangled, like a spider's web. Even though it was noon, there was a dark atmosphere about the place, which was littered by more shabby shacks than proper buildings. Vagrants and the homeless sat idly by the roadside, and vigilant eyes peered through cracks in the windows.

Inellia skillfully guided them through filthy, stench-filled streets.

In this endeavor, they encountered a few gangsters who tried to block their path, but she dealt with them with a cool face.

Thud.

“…Gurgle.”

“…Cough.”

Despite his injuries, one continued walking towards them, his lower body stained with blood.

“Is this the right place?” 

“Yes, he should be here.”

A bar hidden in the nook of the slums. A slanted sign hung outside. It was too dark to tell whether or not it was open.

“I’ll take over from here.”

Allen opened the door to the bar without hesitation. Inellia, surprised by his sudden action, followed closely behind.

Squeaaaak.

The old wooden door let out a creaking sound. 

He could feel eyes on him, perhaps the result of his unbothered gait.

Allen quickly sent his senses skimming around the bar. 

Rotten wood barely supported the ceiling. Rats and insects roamed around everywhere. A musty smell mixed with the smell of cheap alcohol filled the interior.

‘…I figured the place I’d meet him would be like this.’

Step, step, step.

The once-noisy bar became silent as soon as Allen stepped in. He turned his sights towards one man. A man who continued to drink his liquor, uncaring of the disturbance in his surroundings.

Brown hair, green eyes. 

‘He looks younger for his age than I remember.’

Indicative of how much he’d drank, the smell of alcohol radiated from his body. Allen, ignoring all of the pairs of eyes trailing him, took off his mask and sat himself down next to him.

“I’ll take two glasses of anything you have.”

Despite his words, nobody moved.

“You don’t have anything? I’m down for food, too, then…”

Allen continued speaking, as if he didn’t care about a thing in the world, but not a single person heeded his request. 

“Hm… you all don’t treat guests all that nice, do you. In that—”

“Allen Reinhart.”

Tink.

The voice belonged to one Acanders Fern, who set his glass down on the table. Allen, however, wasn’t surprised that he’d known his name.

‘I’m the brother of his greatest enemy—how could he not know my name?’

Allen was somewhat suspicious of his reaction—far less extreme than he’d anticipated. Had he known he was coming? Even then, wasn’t his reaction a little lukewarm?

“So, you know my name?”

“Do I? I sure do. I do know it, heh…”

His dimming eyes mocked him.

“Your brother ruined my life—sent it right down the gutter, dontcha know.”

Rattle.

The people who’d been sitting around the bar began to surround him—as if they had done it many times before. Inellia's eyes narrowed coldly.

Allen asked with a friendly smile, as if he didn't care at all about them:

“Are you not curious as to why I’m here?”

“It’s obvious—it’s because of what happened with the Thanksgiving festival.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Acanders laughed to himself and answered his question:

“Well, what are you going to do about it? While I’m running around, sharpening the blade of vengeance, and collecting all these shitbags? So? Are you gonna run away now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hah… so you wanna make a fool out of me? Well…”

Crash.

“You got the wrong guy, punk!”

He snarled and growled, sticking his pale face towards Allen. Inellia flinched slightly at this.

With a blank face, Allen blocked her from stepping forward.

“What’s the difference if I rebel? Wouldn’t it satisfy your little cravings? If you’re going to kill me, do it properly!”

“If I don’t, will you trust me?”

“If you don’t kill me? How could I trust you? You couldn’t trust my father. How could I trust you?”

In an instant, Acanders’s face twisted, contorting as he burst into tears. Inellia was startled by his sudden change in emotion.

“My dad wasn’t like that. Stealing money? From the people? Ah… hah… ha…”

Crying and laughing, and more laughing and then crying again. Inellia took a step back from his strange display.

“He changed suddenly a few months ago, sure. Around the same time that those rumors that that fuckin rascal had changed or something too, ya know?”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled to himself, empty-mindedly reminiscing the past.

“And then, at the Thanksgiving festival, I pushed that kid and made a scene.”

Acanders spoke in a mocking tone, yet acknowledged the truth.

“Yeah, sure. Good lord Julius is just like the rising sun, but what else is there for disgraced street trash like me to do?”

Allen, listening to Acanders’s confession, realized that his expectations had been correct.

‘Maybe… Baron Fern was set up…’

Then, in their past life, when Julius was going to ascend to his position as the heir, the possibility of there having been organized opposition was large. In order to make Julius shine even more, there needed to be a scapegoat. 

“I’m no better than a fucking rat—that’s all I managed to do. I can’t even hold a candle to him.”

Acanders’s face was filled with a mixture of anger, regret, guilt, and self-loathing.

‘If anyone else were to see it, they’d just come off as the words of an angry man seeking vengeance, but…’

That’s not what he was. Allen knew what he’d be capable of in the future.

Also, Allen dimly understood the reason why he was acting like that. 

“Cut the act. I haven’t spoken a word from the start. And I already told you that I’m not going to kill you.”

“Shut it, and kill me. Or hurry up and start torturing me if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Allen sneered and vacantly stared at him, as if he had no idea what Acanders was talking about. 

“Why are you being like this? You must understand by now—or do you really want me to kill you?”

He was puzzled at first. But, as time passed, he began to understand Acanders’s exaggerated behavior.

‘He’s thinking.’

Did Allen really come to catch him, or did he have something to say?

Coincidentally, Allen had come without any soldiers—only two maids. He must have decided that it wouldn't be bad to try talking once.

‘Looking at him, he seems like he was expecting someone.’

Having assumed that this someone wasn’t Allen, Acanders’s ability to conceal any feelings of shock or embarrassment in front of Allen proved his ability alone.

So, Acanders put on an act. To figure out Allen’s goals, to sniff out his intentions.

‘Even if I’d come here to try to catch him, he would have been confident enough to make an escape.’

Or, he would’ve tried to escape via a pre-planned route. It's a pity that he’d gathered all the people that he had. But it probably wasn't enough to weigh his life against.

“Who? Me?”

He burst into laughter, as if just told a funny joke.

However, Allen, through his senses, could feel the tiny, fast-paced heartbeat.

Was this enough?

‘Well, then.’

“I can’t believe I’m holding a conversation with the brother of my—”

“Baron Fern.”

Acanders paused for a moment, then continued as if to say something.

“Greatest foe…”

“He is still alive.”

Allen's next words made Acanders pause.

“What?”

Allen met eyes with Acanders’s, which had opened widely with genuine shock. 

He immediately changed his expression with a sorry look on his face, but he knew it was already too late.

“I know it’s a little late for this, but we should talk.”

As soon as Allen said those words, he, too, began to speak, having realized the undeniable truth of their situation. 

“Sure. It’s a good thing that all you really want is a conversation, but… what do you want?”

Allen shook his head.

“I’ll explain. But, there are a few too many eyes lingering here.”

Allen turned his sights towards the gangsters surrounding them, still. They were, after all, just random gangsters that Acanders had gathered to create a camouflage for himself.

“Inellia.”

“Yes, sir?”

She moved.

“Don’t quite kill them.”

At his request, as if she could barely contain herself, Inellia sprung towards the gangsters.

“Mr. Acanders—!”

“We’ll take care of business, just like usual—!”

“P-please, spare m—”

Despite their crying out his name, Acanders showed them no regard, with eyes entirely devoid of emotion.

“Is this who you really were?”

At this question, Acanders replied with a little giggle:

“We were never comrades, from the beginning.”

After a few minutes passed, all but three had fallen. Acanders stopped Inellia from throwing them outside for a moment, and shouted loudly.

“Marvin!”

Allen sensed what appeared to be a homeless man who had collapsed outside, getting up and coming forward to enter the bar.

“Yes, boss?”

“Take care of these poor bastards. And don’t let anyone come in for a while.”

“On it, boss.”

As he gestured for the homeless man named Marvin to head out, dozens of homeless people came in to take the fallen gangsters before disappearing in an instant.

“Are those people real?”

“I suppose there’s no need to hide it. They are."

Acanders didn't quite believe everything Allen said. Even at this moment, he doubted whether dropping his act was the right choice.

‘Was I too hasty? If I’d just run away before we could talk…’

The original plan was to hear him out and accept if he offered a reasonable deal, and—if not—to try to escape somewhere in the process. And he was sure he could. 

‘But…’

Allen was more powerful than he’d expected. Even his little maid showed off moves that nobody could simply take lightly.

‘If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve been more careful… Tch.’

Since Acanders’s family’s decline, he’d been living a commoner's life, and as such, his awareness had been dulled. But he was still a noble at heart.

‘Everything I’ve done up until this point has been a waste of time, but there's nothing I can't do if I collect them again.’

All he had were his have-nothing men from the slums. And apart from that, he had nothing. He shouldn’t have been so careless.

‘But I got caught up in my greed.’

Acanders corrected his expression and opened his mouth:

“So, what would you like to talk about?”

Allen answered directly, no longer needing to beat around the bush:

“Don’t you want to get revenge on him?”

“What?”

Allen said in a calm tone, uncaring of the confusion on Acanders’s face.

“I'm trying to kill Julius.”

As if only noting the obvious.

“Come with me.”