When he screamed, the baby began to cry. "Why are you crying, William?" The woman’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, filled with warmth and affection. To soothe him, she began to sing a lullaby, her voice gentle and tender. To her surprise, the baby quieted, his tiny eyelids fluttering shut as he fell asleep. Carefully, she placed him in the cradle, as if the world might shatter if she were too rough.

  "You shouldn’t push yourself so much," the man said quietly, his arms wrapping around the woman in a protective embrace. "Your body’s still weak after the delivery."

  "I just wanted to see his face," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the baby with such overwhelming love that it made the man’s heart ache. Without another word, they quietly left the room, as though not wishing to disturb the fragile peace around the child.

  "I want to create a world where we can both live happily, forever, without suffering, without pain. A life full of joy, without fear," a boy said, his voice trembling with emotion as he held the girl’s hand. Her eyes were hidden by her bangs, but there was no doubt—she was as beautiful as a lily in full bloom. She didn’t speak, but the smile on her face was all the answer he needed. It was enough.

  And then, in the blink of an eye, time twisted. The boy grew up in an instant, the world around him fading away. The scene shifted, replaced by the sharp sounds of voices calling out to him.

  "Brother, why are you standing here all alone?" a group of four boys asked, their voices filled with concern.

  "Are you thinking about your family?" The first boy, who looked older than his years, asked, his tone serious yet compassionate.

  "Shut up," another boy interrupted, playfully pinching him.

  "Ouch!" The boy yelped, rubbing the spot where he’d been pinched.

  "Don’t be sad, brother," said the third boy, his voice soft but firm. "We’ve all lost someone close to us. But we’ll never leave you. We’ll stand by you, even if we have to face hell itself."

  The boy smiled, though the sadness in his eyes never faded. "Do you want me to go to hell?" he teased, but it wasn’t really funny. And for a moment, the group was quiet, then all of them laughed—a bittersweet sound that seemed to carry their shared sorrow.

  Suddenly, the laughter vanished. The air grew thick with the stench of blood, and the world around them turned dark, oppressive. The boy—now a man, tall and strong—looked down in shock. His heart stopped when he saw the bodies of the boys and the girl, their lifeless forms lying in a pool of blood. He looked down at himself, his clothes soaked in crimson. He could feel it, the weight of their blood staining his very soul. A cold, eerie chill gripped his heart as he saw the pistol clutched in his left hand.

  Then a knock, sharp and insistent—thuck, thuck—ripped him from his thoughts.

  "Come in," he answered, his voice a mere rasp, as though the weight of everything was too much for him to bear.

  The door opened, and a man entered—Carl, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit. "Master," Carl said, his voice steady but his eyes flickering nervously, "all the traitors... they’ve been executed." His words hung in the air, heavy with a fear he couldn’t hide. "Is... is that all, sir?"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The man’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, his bangs shadowing his eyes, hiding the raw pain behind them.

  "Traitors, huh… yes, traitors," he whispered, his voice breaking with the grief he could no longer contain. Tears began to fall, slow at first, but then they rushed like a flood—tears that couldn’t be stopped, as if they had been building up for an eternity.

  The baby suddenly stirred, waking with a start. His heart pounded, the strange sense of dread suffocating him. Why am I dreaming about that… after all this time? The thought hit him like a blow. It feels like a curse. A memory that refuses to fade.

  "Why am I still here?" His mind was spinning in confusion. "Was it not just a dream?" His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the world around him.

  Is this a lucid dream? he wondered. I know I’m dreaming… but I can’t control it, not like I should in a lucid dream. So then… what is this? The confusion gnawed at him, unrelenting.

  The faces of the figures from before flashed in his mind. "A face as clear as crystal, pale as snow, with hair like golden morning rays and eyes as deep and blue as the ocean," he whispered, the description coming to him with a sense of inevitability. Her features are as same as male lead's mother described in novel maybe it was the mother of the male lead in the novel.

  "And hair like silver, eyes as green as jade, with skin so pale—like a porcelain doll. The mark of the Marquis Medici’s family," he added, his voice trembling. The man next to her was same as the father of the male lead, which was described in the novel.

  It can’t be a coincidence. His mind screamed. I’m in a novel… but how? And if I’m in a baby’s body, where did I go? What happened to my world?

  He could feel his thoughts spiraling. Did our bodies swap? Am I in William’s body? What about him? Is he in mine? The questions piled on top of each other, crushing him under their weight.

  He looked down at the tiny hands of the baby and asked himself: Why am I here? Why was I summoned?

  His heart beat faster, as if trying to escape from the cage of confusion and fear. Do I have to follow William’s destiny? Is fate really this cruel? Will I suffer again, just so it can watch me writhe in agony?

  "Why must I suffer?" The words burst from him, raw and desperate. Why must I be a puppet for a fate I didn’t choose?

  And then, like a whisper from the past, the voice of the girl echoed in his mind: "Live for yourself."

  It was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Live for myself, he thought, feeling the warmth of that resolve settle deep in his bones. "I will return to my world, no matter what. Even if I have to destroy this world, or this entire universe… I WILL RETURN TO MY WORLD." His voice was steady now, unwavering, though the fire of his determination burned in every syllable.

  "I will not be a pawn in this game of destiny. I will break free, even if I have to destroy fate itself."

  "I promised someone… I promised I would live for myself." The words were simple, but they held the weight of everything. The promise he had made to himself, to the person who had believed in him.