The scratch of a quill filled the office. Ryn stood at attention, trying not to think about how he'd died, come back, and still ended up listening to this exact sound.
Some things truly never changed.
"Ryn."
Still no eye contact. The patriarch sat calmly, his hands moving like they were under a spell to finish papers as efficiently as possible.
"If this is about tomorrow's ceremony, maintain your composure."
Composure. Right.
Ryn resisted the urge to sigh. If composure could be bought, he'd have asked for it as a birthday gift.
"I'd like permission to visit the cathedral today," he said, keeping his voice steady. His throat betrayed him with a small, unhelpful tightness.
That finally made the quill pause. Never take small victories for granted.
"For what reason?"
"To pray early. They say it increases your chance of receiving a good Blessing."
A neutral answer. Respectable. Hopefully convincing enough.
His father regarded him for a long second — the kind of look that searched for weakness, attitude, or anything out of place.
Ryn had prepared for this, well, he did have an extra ten years of practice under his belt after all.
"Very well. Return before dusk."
Relief pressed at Ryn's shoulders, but he kept his expression politely neutral.
"Yes, Father."
He left the office, closed the door gently, and immediately exhaled. Not dramatically, but the type that one would after a long day. But the day had just gotten started, and there were lots of things ahead.
The hallway was peaceful, so peaceful that it made the Evernight seem like a distant dream instead.
But this was reality, or at least the one he could change.
Ryn straightened his coat. One thing at a time.
Get to the Cathedral. Find the book. Avoid disaster.
Simple goals, which meant they probably wouldn't stay that way.
***
The carriage arrived within minutes, it always had when the Arctis family required its service. The seats were comfortable and the coachman had treated him with utmost respect, but Ryn couldn't care less.
A normal day. Ones like these usually get taken for granted.
The Arctis estate shrank behind him. At least it put a few walls between him and the expectations waiting back at the estate after tomorrow.
His family had always expected brilliance from him. Not that he blamed them; the Arctis lineage prided itself on producing prodigies. Swordsmen, mages, scholars—take your pick. There was always an achievement to live up to.
Ryn just… never managed to live up to any of them.
He'd tried once.
Gods, he really had. Up until about twenty-one, when it became painfully clear that nothing he did ever reached the standard the family quietly measured him against. After that, slacking off wasn't rebellion. It was a practicality.
Why fight a losing battle?
The servants treated him with polite detachment. Nobles pretended he didn't exist. His father… well, "distant" was putting it kindly.
Ryn leaned his head against the carriage wall, exhaling through his nose.
Now, going back to the role of 'young master' was daunting. A part of him had always hated himself for being that slacker, but the other understood what it was like.
In his first life, he'd made peace with that. Mostly.
This time, though?
He didn't have the luxury of slacking off. Not when the world had already shown him what happened…and the things he would lose.
Outside the windows, he could finally see the cathedral spires that rose ahead, cutting into the sky.
Ryn blinked once.
Right. Back to work.
A priest had welcomed him almost immediately as he stepped foot off the carriage. The cathedral towered above him, pale stone glowing under morning light. Most people found it awe-inspiring. Ryn mostly found it tall, cold, and annoyingly unchanged. Even after everything he remembered.
As he ascended the steps, the priest stammered.
"Y-Young master Ryn, I heard you came fo-for praying."
Ah. This era — when everyone still assumed he'd become someone impressive.
Ryn offered a polite smile. The kind nobles used when they wanted to appear gracious without committing to an opinion.
"You don't need to guide me, I'll manage."
"Of course." The priest bowed again, relieved at not being asked to do anything complicated. "May Rhea bless your preparation."
Inside, the cathedral opened into a vast hall of columns and stained glass. Beams of colored light fell across scripture shelves built into the walls.
However, the biggest eye-catcher there was easily the large, twenty-feet tall statue of the Goddess of Creation, Rhea.
He had never been much of a devout, especially when the world was ending and people called on her help, but she never answered. So that was some minus points in his eyes.
Ryn stepped inside, and two more priests bowed deeply as he passed, murmuring greetings.
He returned each one with an effortless nod. Even after 10 years, he still had his noble mannerisms down.
Though none of it would matter if he had failed his purpose today.
Focus. You're not here to dilly-dally. Get on with it already.
He needed to get into the Blessing Hall, where children of age go to receive their skill, which defines their fate.
Normally sealed, just inconvenient, as most sacred places tended to be.
Though it was busy, as expected. Priests moved in and out constantly, likely preparing for his private ceremony tomorrow.
Ryn had to distract them somehow. And he knew exactly how to do it.
Inside, he was counting. Five more pillars until the bell tower archway. Two priests stationed at the Blessing Hall corridor. All he needed was five minutes.
Ryn remembered this area well—not from ceremony, but from the post-disaster aftermath. When his father knocked over the same bell, enraged that his son received a mediocre skill.
The maintenance crew had argued non-stop in his first life about the cause, that it was faulty.
Faulty was generous, the thing barely held together. And that's exactly what he was going to use.
The metal latch protruded from the wall—tiny, out of place, and mercifully unchanged by time. He brushed past it with the faintest flick of his fingers.
Click.
The shift was instant.
A sharp metallic groan vibrated through the rafters.
Then—
BOOOOOM.
The tower bell roared to life, swinging violently as if struck by an invisible force. The recoil sent the bell rope whipping sideways, snapping a decorative hook clean off the wall.
CRASH.
—plummeting right into the marble statue of the god of creation.
Stone shattered, the holy symbol split down the center, and the cathedral erupted.
The head priests were shouting commands that sounded something like this,
"THE CREATOR GOD—!"
"Quick! Secure the fragments!"
While the attendees quickly got onto their knees, begging for mercy.
"Is...is this a divine omen?"
Definitely not, he thought.
Even though a noble's son was in the vicinity, they all had rushed past him without another glance. Perfect.
All while the door toward the Blessing Hall stood completely empty. Also perfect.
Ryn slipped into the hall with the same calm stride he'd use walking into a family dinner.
Behind him, the cathedral continued screaming.
Ahead of him, the chamber was quiet. Cracking his fingers, he searched and found the pedestal where he received a Blessing in his past life.
"Now, I won't let it slip through my fingers again."
As he approached the pedestal, one book sat a fraction ahead of the others—tilted forward, as if it had already recognized him.