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Jack was a misfit on Earth — a man who worked dozens of jobs but never found a place to belong. One night, he closed his eyes expecting another dead-end morning... and woke up in a mansion, in a kingdom at war, with a name he didn’t recognize — but a life already in ruins.

Everyone hated him.
Even the servants spat when he walked by.
His wife? The kingdom’s top general, Elsa, who hadn’t seen him in five years and only married him due to a scandal neither of them chose.
His children? Barely spoke to him.
The court? Mocked him with every breath.

Stripped of dignity, drowned in debt, and carrying the sins of a man he can’t remember being — Jack makes a vow:

"I won’t beg for love. I won’t chase after what’s lost. But I will become someone I can respect — even if no one else ever does."

But fate is not done with him.
What begins as survival soon becomes revolution — one potato, one broken town, one daughter’s letter at a time. As Jack rises through impossible trials, even the kingdom’s seers whisper: "A man fated to be discarded may yet become the axis of the empire."

A silent war brews at court. A prophecy looms over his children. And his estranged wife fights battles for a future Jack doesn’t even know he’s part of…

In a world where everyone remembers the man he was, can Jack rewrite the story of who he’ll become?

Reborn as Her Husband: The General’s Forgotten Man

Three days before the Harvest Festival, Jack was summoned to the royal court.

He hadn't expected it. Truth be told, he thought the capital had grown used to his quiet existence. After all, he no longer caused scandal, asked for favors, or made demands. He did his duties, stayed out of noble gossip, and slowly mended the fragile bond with his daughter Laina. That was enough for now.

But today, the king himself had asked for his presence.

Jack stood before the throne in a modest robe, not as ragged as when he first arrived months ago, but far from the silks many courtiers wore. Whispers trailed behind him as he entered the hall, most voices still doubting his right to stand among them.

The king, King Edric, waved aside the rustling.

"Jack of House Albright," the monarch began, voice calm but firm, "word of Merriton's recovery has reached me. Fields once barren now bear promise. The people speak your name with respect."

Jack bowed. "I only did what needed to be done, Your Majesty."

"Spare me humility," the king said, though his tone held a trace of amusement. "You turned brigands into farmers. That takes more than need. That takes vision."

Just as Jack opened his mouth to respond, another voice cut in.

"If I may, Your Majesty," said Prime Minister Corwin, stepping forward. His narrow eyes gleamed with restrained disdain. "The reports from Merriton come from the mouth of the man himself and his close companions. Surely, it would not be... unwise to verify his claims, lest we become victims of embellished tales."

Jack tensed. He should've known this was coming.

The king raised a brow. "And what do you propose, Prime Minister?"

"That he go to Merriton to oversee the harvest personally," Corwin said, voice smooth as oil. "But not alone. Send someone to ensure transparency."

The king's eyes flicked between Jack and the minister. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"A fine suggestion. Let the harvest be seen with royal eyes. Jack shall return to Merriton at once."

Jack nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"And to ensure fairness," the king added, his gaze landing on the side gallery where Elsa's parents sat, "House Valorin shall accompany him."

The silence in the chamber was deafening.

Lord Thorne Valorin—Elsa's father—sat straighter. His wife, Lady Mireya, frowned.

Jack blinked. He hadn't expected this. Of all the things he feared, returning to Merriton with his in-laws hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Your Majesty," Lady Mireya spoke, her voice controlled, "is this truly necessary?"

"The Prime Minister is right to worry," the king said calmly. "But I trust Jack. And I trust House Valorin. Let them confirm the truth."

Jack clenched his fists. Not out of anger, but frustration. Merriton was a fragile thing—like a newborn foal finding its legs. Having his coldest critics at his side as he showed them the result of months of work? It felt like standing before a storm with bare skin.

That night, Jack sat in his study at Elsa's estate. The candlelight flickered across pages of reports he'd written on Merriton. Damon wasn't here. No one from Merriton was. Only silence.

He scribbled down a note: "List of yields. Field names. New irrigation points. Kael's report on bandit integration."

But his mind wasn't on the parchment.

It was on Caelum's quiet face, Serin's stubborn distance, and Laina's slow, cautious warmth. They were the only reasons he hadn't left this place entirely.

"Why do I still care what they think?" he muttered.

Because they were Elsa's family. Because they were the only family these children knew. Because part of him still hoped that doing the right thing—just once more—might change something.

Three days until the Harvest. Three days to prove that he wasn't the man they believed him to be.

Not with words. But with Merriton.

20.The Weight of the Harvest