A man lay on a stretcher, gasping for air, his chest rising erratically as doctors worked frantically around him.
Blood soaked the bandages wrapped around his head.
"What happened to him?" someone asked.
"A construction accident," a doctor replied urgently. "He fell from the third floor.
The safety harness malfunctioned no helmet."
Strangely, the man felt no pain. Only a burning sensation spread across his head, as if fire were licking his scalp.
What happened to me…? Am I dying?
His vision blurred. The world faded into darkness.
The burning sensation returned—stronger this time.
I'm still alive… hopefully I'll recover. I still need to finish the project…
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
This wasn't a hospital.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, wooden instead of white. The air smelled of old furniture and herbs.
"Ryan! Thank God you've woken up, my child!"
A blond-haired man rushed forward and hugged him tightly.
"Do you know how worried I was? You may be a troublemaker, but you're still my son."
Ryan tried to speak.
What are you saying?
But no words came out of his mouth.
Before he could react, a brunette woman stepped forward, waiting patiently.
She wrapped her arms around him gently.
"Ryan," she said softly, her voice trembling, "please don't do it again. Never fight against another noble family."
Ryan's mind screamed in confusion.
What kind of nonsense are they talking about?
The blond man finally straightened up.
"Rest for now. Call us if you need anything," he said with relief. "I need to return to work. I'm just glad you're fine."
Ryan could only nod weakly.
One week later
I realized the truth.
I Ryan Bradwell, age thirty-two had died in a construction accident.
The safety harness failed. I fell from the third floor. No helmet.
And now, I had been reborn.
My name was still Ryan but now I was Ryan Ardens, the eldest son of the Arden family.
The Arden family was a baronet noble house, unaffiliated with any kingdom.
Our territory spanned over sixty thousand square kilometers, yet it was one of the poorest lands imaginable.
Despite being nobles, we lived in a shabby two-story house, barely fifty to sixty square meters in size.
Our territory had fewer than a hundred citizens.
Most of them were refugees from war-torn lands. Some had earned full citizenship, and all of them were fiercely loyal to House Ardens.
The land itself was cruel.
Harsh soil.
Little water.
Only potatoes could grow here.
And because potatoes were so common, they sold for almost nothing.
A full bag cost only fifteen copper coins.
Our main source of income was taxation.
Even then, we earned only four to seven silver coins a month.
We taxed our people at twenty percent, far lower than the fifty percent imposed elsewhere.
Taxing them more would be the same as forcing them to leave.
The currency system worked like this:
5 copper coins = one hour of labor
100 copper coins = 1 silver coin
100 silver coins = 1 gold coin
70 gold coins = 1 mythril coin
Because the people were poor, the nocoin my family were poor as well.
My father had tried to pledge our territory as a vassal to all six neighboring kingdoms.
All six refused.
The Arden territory was barren, filled with towering trees and roaming monsters.
Thankfully, my father was a third-class knight, strong enough to protect the village.
A wooden fence surrounded the settlement, keeping out smaller but vicious beasts.
Still, my biggest problem wasn't monsters.
It was food.
I was grateful for a second life—but if this continued, I might die again.
I had eaten boiled potatoes every single day for a week.
No seasoning. No variety.
I didn't know if my family lacked taste buds or if I was just too picky but the smell alone made my stomach turn.
I needed money.
Not just for myself but for my family.
My parents and siblings wore tattered clothes, despite being nobles.
I refused to live like this.
I would make money.
My family:
Father: Val Ardens
Mother: Claudia Ardens
Younger brother: Timothy Ardens
Sister: Sarah Ardens
And me: Ryan Ardens, the eldest son
At least I still had the same first name as my previous life.
After careful thought, I realized the best way to earn money in this world was salt.
Salt was expensive ten copper coins per 100 grams. Ordinary families could barely afford it. Worse, the salt sold here was unrefined, filled with dirt and sediment, as if seawater had simply been left under the sun to evaporate.
That was dangerous. Unrefined salt often contained heavy metal impurities.
Our territory was far from the sea, so evaporation wasn't an option.
That left one solution.
A salt deposit.
Three kilometers away, near the river, stood a rocky mountain.
If there was salt anywhere it would be there.
I put on my boots and secured my sword at my waist, just in case I encountered monsters.
Salt deposits usually appear gray or reddish, I recalled. Often at the foot of dry mountains.
After walking for an hour, I crossed the river and reached the mountain's base.
Then I saw it.
A polygonal, chalky pattern spread across the rock face clear evidence of crystallized salt.
My breath caught.
The mountain itself was made of salt.
The amount was unimaginable.
Even if mined for generations, it would never run out.
I had found my pot of gold.
Strike while the iron is hot.
I rushed back to the territory without wasting a second.
Upon returning, I gathered the citizens of Arden and called them to the central plaza of the village.
This was where everything would change.