Dressed in clean clothes, Reyn sat at the table, deep in thought.
He meticulously pieced together the events leading to his demise from his memories.
Though fragmented and missing details, Reyn clearly pictured the main culprits. There were two.
One was his academy classmate Ramzi. They had once been best friends, but Ramzi was the executioner.
The other was Iceberg, a true Superhuman. He was the mastermind.
Reyn knew little about Iceberg. Only that his supernatural profession was either Ranger or Shadow Warrior. At low levels, these classes shared traits, and unless fighting or observing one in battle, outsiders struggled to pinpoint the exact class. Iceberg was masterful with the sword and taught at one of Longsand's renowned fencing schools.
Reyn had some fencing talent and, after three years under academy instructors, was above average among classmates. But against Iceberg, he wouldn't last a single strike!
He'd met Iceberg through Ramzi.
Half a month ago, after quarreling with his father, Reyn returned to Longsand and job-hunted. But beyond basic fencing and literacy, he had few skills, and he refused menial work like laborer or postman, hitting refusals everywhere.
Later, by the academy walls, he ran into Ramzi. On good terms, Reyn shared his troubles.
The next day, Ramzi offered him a job as Iceberg's assistant at the "Maloni Blade" fencing school. "Maloni Blade" was one of the city's most famous fencing schools. Even an assistant position paid handsomely, several times a regular worker's wage, and it was respectable. Reyn agreed without hesitation, deeply grateful to Ramzi.
From then, Reyn officially worked at the school. His decent swordsmanship helped him adapt quickly, and Iceberg was pleased, sometimes giving personal lessons. Ramzi was also Iceberg's assistant, working alongside. Reyn's bond with him grew; he nearly saw him as his best friend, sharing everything openly.
Until yesterday.
Near the end of the workday, Ramzi mysteriously told Reyn that Iceberg had important work for them, to meet that evening at a tavern on Perfume Street.
Reyn, unsuspecting, arrived on time, then with Ramzi boarded an unfamiliar carriage waiting around the corner. Its windows were blacked out, opaque from outside. Inside, Ramzi handed Reyn a set of fine leather armor and a long sword. Clearly prearranged. Reyn suspected something off but didn't ask.
The carriage wound through the city for a long time. Reyn didn't know their destination; eventually, they stopped in some remote alley.
Emerging, Reyn saw Iceberg waiting. Iceberg wore black leather armor too. Two blades hung at his belt—long and short—his face half-masked by a black cloth. He stood motionless in the corner, blending into shadow. If he hadn't stepped out, Reyn wouldn't have spotted him.
Then Iceberg outlined the plan.
Only then did Reyn grasp it. Iceberg planned a home invasion murder, targeting a family in the house beyond the alley wall.
He didn't understand why Iceberg brought him. His mind screamed fear and refusal.
But Iceberg gave no chance. He ordered Ramzi to watch the alley entrance, and Reyn to come along. Reyn desperately wanted to flee but knew refusing now meant Iceberg killing him first. Gritting his teeth, he went.
The ensuing massacre was Reyn's heaviest psychological blow.
Iceberg's target was a "Mechanical Master," wealthy but no Superhuman. The two house guards were ordinary folk, no match for the mighty Superhuman.
In minutes, Iceberg slaughtered the family: the Mechanical Master, his wife, two children, and five or six servants and guards. Nearly all brutally slain.
Iceberg deliberately spared one guard. Subduing him, he ordered Reyn to finish the wretch. After agonizing inner struggle, desperate to survive, Reyn pierced the guard's heart with his sword.
Then Iceberg called Ramzi, and they ransacked the house top to bottom, gathering rich loot. They moved expertly, finding even cleverly hidden valuables—clearly not their first time.
Reyn didn't join the looting, still in shock from his first kill.
Iceberg returned to the carriage with the spoils. This time, he rode with them.
En route, Reyn said nothing. Ramzi nonstop reassured him, promising a share from the loot sale—enough for academy tuition and a decent life.
As Ramzi spoke, Iceberg stared fixedly at Reyn, creating oppressive tension.
Reyn didn't reply at once. His mind blanked. Stunned, he returned to the tavern, changed, and left.
Heading home to his apartment, Reyn finally snapped to.
He realized the night raid was a trap. Iceberg and Ramzi wanted to drag him into their fold, make him one of them. Agree then, and it'd start his slide down the crooked path, with worse deeds ahead.
Reyn decided instantly: report them!
Though forced to kill the guard, it was under duress. Even if tried, his sentence would be lighter than for more crimes ending in beheading. Plus, reporting Iceberg was merit enough to offset his guilt.
Reyn headed straight for the Church of Justice temple.
But before going far, at a crossroads, he spotted Iceberg's figure from afar. His heart sank. As he turned to run, he was stunned by a blow.
When Reyn awoke, they were beating him. A sack over his head blocked vision, gag in mouth. He heard only Ramzi's furious curses, then hours of brutal beatings, blacking out several times.
The last he remembered was a fatal blow to the back of his head.
Next awakening, he was in the river. Same body, but soul no longer the old "Reyn's."
Recalling it all, Reyn sighed involuntarily.
The old Reyn was too young—just nineteen—ignorant of human treachery, lacking experience.
Reporting Iceberg was right, but too late. He should have thought in the carriage on return, feigned temptation by money, pretended to accept Ramzi's offer.
By not replying immediately, he'd aroused suspicion. After leaving the tavern, they tailed him secretly; old Reyn never suspected. Turning toward the Church of Justice, Iceberg guessed his intent and gave no second chance.
Had he returned home first, reported next day in daylight on crowded streets, even if Ramzi tailed, grabbing him would've been hard.
In truth, even successful reporting wouldn't end well for Reyn. A Superhuman like Iceberg, from his behavior and need for accomplices, likely backed by a powerful group. Even if merit outweighed guilt and no trial, revenge was inevitable.
"Still, inexperience doomed him—too naive," Reyn whispered. After a pause, he added inwardly: "I'll avenge you. Consider it payment for the borrowed body."
Old Reyn was dead, but this Reyn must live on.
He didn't yet know how to revenge, but wouldn't yield or flee to cower in fear.
His main edge now: Ramzi and Iceberg thought him dead. Enemy exposed, he in shadows. Though Ramzi knew the address, having killed and dumped the body, he wouldn't check the apartment post-incident to avoid suspicion.
Ideally, Reyn's body would be found in the river, reported to the municipality, sparking a police probe that, lacking evidence, dead-ended.
Or the body unfound, listed missing. Living alone in Longsand, his contacts only school folk. Unless Ramzi reported, disappearance known only in a month at rent time, landlord noticing.
"Were I Ramzi, I wouldn't report. More time passed, better for him," Reyn reasoned.
"Over two weeks till next rent. Only then landlord notices missing tenant, reports, police investigate, contacting the fencing school."
"For those two weeks, Iceberg and Ramzi won't suspect I'm alive."
"But I can't stay in the apartment either. Otherwise, in half a month, when no one shows up at the fencing school asking questions, Ramzi might come here to check what happened. If he discovers that I'm alive and living here, it will bring deadly danger upon me again."
"I must remain "missing," hide in the shadows—that will make it easier to take revenge."
Reyn quickly gathered his thoughts and decided to leave the apartment immediately.
However, before leaving, there was one more thing to do. He pushed the table aside, revealing the wall behind it, removed a loose brick, and pulled an envelope from the hiding spot.
"What an old-fashioned way to hide money! If Ramzi had come to search the apartment, he would've found it in less than a minute."
Reyn smirked and shook his head. Pushing the table back into place, he dumped out the contents of the envelope.
There wasn't much money: a small stack of bills and a dozen coins.
The Auriensky Empire's monetary system was complex: both paper money and three types of metal coins of different denominations were in circulation. The coins were divided into copper foxes, silver crowns, and golden shields, while the paper money, called copper yuan, was equivalent to copper foxes. One bill worth one copper yuan equaled one copper fox. There were also bills worth 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100 copper yuan. One silver crown equaled 20 copper yuan, and 50 silver crowns equaled one golden shield. In other words, one golden shield could be exchanged for a thousand copper yuan.
In everyday life, people mainly used paper copper yuan and copper foxes, occasionally silver crowns. Golden shields were exchanged only for large transactions. For example, tuition at the Superhumans Academy cost 20 golden shields per year. For an ordinary family, that was an enormous sum; even in Longsand, few could afford such expenses.
Reyn counted the money: six ten-yuan bills and five fifty-yuan bills, the rest a dozen small bills and a handful of silver and copper coins. It came to just over a thousand copper yuan—exactly one golden shield with a little left over.
He stroked the thin bills, feeling the intricate pattern with his fingers. The pale green notes had a pleasant smell of printing ink. A few silver and copper coins jingled nicely as they clinked together. Though the scent and sound were slightly different from those in his previous life, they still evoked a familiar feeling.
The bills and coins featured portraits of several figures: an imposing middle-aged man, a wise elder, and even someone very young. Reyn didn't know any of them, but each seemed remarkably familiar.
These were his savings from three years—not much, about two months' wages for a worker. Enough to live in Longsand for a while.
Tucking the money into a hidden pocket, Reyn pulled a sun hat from the closet, pulled it low over his eyes, erased all traces of his presence, stuffed the wet clothes he'd returned in into a bag, and, choosing a moment when no one was nearby, slipped out of the apartment unnoticed.