Fate

Athan was lost in his thoughts, his eyes glued to his phone as the lesson droned on. The information about this world, Grasia, fascinated him. It was similar to Earth in many ways—history, culture, religion, and even entertainment bore striking resemblances. Yet, there were distinct differences as well.

For instance, ideologies. On Earth, democracy was the dominant form of governance. Most nations followed some variation of it, even if flawed. Here in Grasia, however, the world seemed to be governed under a single entity, an alliance that functioned like a democracy but still carried the lingering shadow of monarchic rule. Every level of bureaucracy reflected the influence of a ruling class, a hierarchy deeply ingrained in society.

Athan felt an itch of curiosity. As a reincarnator, he knew he had a duty to understand this world. He couldn't afford to be ignorant. However, before indulging in his fascination, he had a more pressing concern: survival. His safety took priority over everything else.

A sharp ringing sound jolted him back to reality. The bell had rung, signaling the end of class. His homeroom teacher gave a few closing remarks before dismissing everyone. Athan blinked in surprise. Had the entire period really passed without him noticing?

Slinging his small leather bag over his shoulder, he stood up. His desk was bare, so he had nothing to tidy. As he moved, he caught a glimpse of his seatmate—the new transferee. She immediately lowered her head, avoiding his gaze. Athan sighed inwardly. He knew it would take time to fix his reputation. Regardless, he refused to be dictated by the fate this world had assigned him. He would carve his own path.

Shaking off his thoughts, he followed the flow of students out of the classroom. However, something strange happened. As he walked, the students unconsciously parted around him, as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea. Athan's brow twitched. Was he really that feared?

Navigating through the crowd was a bit challenging, but eventually, he found himself at the school gate. He looked around and suppressed a groan.

This school is massive.

Another problem surfaced in his mind. Where was his home?

He quickly pulled out his phone, scrolling through the contacts, but none of the names were familiar. Worse, his call and message history had been completely wiped. He had no idea who to contact or where to start.

Athan frowned. Wasn't it a written rule of reincarnation that he should inherit the previous body's memories? This was inconvenient. Then again, now that he thought about it, wouldn't it be bizarre to suddenly possess a lifetime of foreign memories? How did characters in novels manage to act normal after absorbing an entire history that wasn't their own?

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a sleek black sedan that pulled up right in front of him. At the same time, his so-called lackeys appeared out of nowhere, nearly making him jump.

Where the hell did they come from? Had they been following him secretly? The way they moved was unnervingly disciplined—it felt more like a military escort than a group of high school students.

Athan was about to question them when an older man stepped out of the car. He was dressed in an impeccable butler's uniform, his graying hair neatly combed back. The man bowed his head slightly and spoke in a composed tone.

"Greetings, Young Master. Shall we proceed to the usual destination?"

Athan scrutinized the butler, noting the sharp glint in his eyes. This man was not ordinary. His very presence exuded an air of experience, as if he had witnessed the rise and fall of empires.

Athan nodded in response. He could have returned the greeting, but he held back to avoid suspicion. Instead, he kept his voice deliberately indifferent.

"Let's go home."

Meanwhile, inside the school, Elara was preparing to leave when she found herself surrounded by a group of excited classmates.

"Elara, your skin is so smooth! What lotion do you use?" one girl asked, pinching her arm playfully.

"You're from Sakura High School, right? Their uniforms are so pretty!"

"Elara, that's a beautiful name. Hehe, I hope we can be friends! If you ever need help, don't be shy to ask me! Oh, and be careful of the devil. Don't get on his bad side—or worse, attract his attention."

Elara turned toward the girl with twin pigtails who had spoken so cheerfully yet so seriously.

Another girl with freckles and a bright smile nodded in agreement. "Mica is right. No one in this school can control him. Not even the teachers."

Elara absorbed their warnings. She wasn't naive; she knew their concerns were valid. The rumors surrounding her seatmate were numerous and unsettling. Still, the warmth from her classmates was unfamiliar. It had been so long since she'd been surrounded by people with genuine goodwill.

For years, whenever she had been surrounded, it had only ever meant one thing—trouble.

Her eyes became misty, but she quickly blinked the emotion away. Her first day hadn't been ideal, especially with her unfortunate seatmate situation, but with these people showing kindness, maybe... just maybe, she could manage.

Outside classroom 3-1, a boy was peeking through the window. His breath came out in excited, shaky exhales. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with intensity, darted around as if committing everything to memory.

"So it wasn't just a dream," he muttered. "She really transferred here. Everything is unfolding as fate intended."

His mind replayed the final moments of his past life. The image of her walking down the aisle before his death burned in his memory. The girl before him was different from what he remembered—less refined, less mature—but he knew. He knew this was the same girl who would one day blossom into the love of his life.

If he could see that radiant version of her again, he would gladly die all over again.

Kevin placed a hand over his face, tilting his head as if gazing past the ceiling into the heavens.

"Oh, cruel heavens," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Is this your way of torturing me? Allowing me to witness my loved ones suffer all over again?"

Tears welled up and streamed down his cheeks.

Kevin knew the pain his beloved would endure. Pain was necessary. Growth was painful. Like a caterpillar struggling through metamorphosis, she would have to suffer before she could bloom. He didn't know if he should intervene. The butterfly effect terrified him. One misstep could ruin everything.

His class had ended, but before leaving, he stole one last glance at his beloved—the 50th glance since he had awakened to the truth of his past life.

"Not yet," he murmured. "The time isn't right. You still don't see my worth. But when you do, it'll be too late. Don't worry, Stella. Everything is unfolding as it should. To go against fate would be foolish. This is all for the good of our future."

Gathering his resolve, Kevin left the classroom, determined to find his cherished girl.

That was when he spotted Athan.

Athan was walking through the hallway, his usual cold and unreadable expression in place. Further ahead, Kevin saw his cherished girl, surrounded by classmates who showered her with warmth. The sight made his blood boil and his heart ache.

He turned his gaze back to Athan, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Athan, huh?" Kevin muttered to himself. "Even if I had a hundred times the power and influence from my past life, I know I wouldn't be able to touch you. But that doesn't matter. I remember who you are. One of the villains who shattered my beloved's confidence. One of the many obstacles in her path."

His sneer deepened as he whispered, "I'll let you play your role for now, villain. After all, fate has already determined your days are numbered."

Kevin's eyes darkened with resolve as he continued watching from the shadows, his longing gaze locked onto his beloved.