A wave of dizziness washed over Shan Lion as he stared at Vermin, the loyal steward's face momentarily warping, as if it were part of a half-remembered dream. His breath caught in his throat. Was this a vision granted in the final seconds of death? Or had the heavens truly given him another chance?
He blinked. Once. Twice. The world around him didn't dissolve. The colors stayed sharp. The sunlight still filtered in through the grand arched windows of his study, falling on the polished wooden floors like gold-dusted memory.
Shan gripped the arms of his chair, the weight of reality crashing into him. "It's real… This is real…"
A sudden laugh burst out of him—raw and wild. "It's great! Now I can change the fate. Oh God! Thank you very much…" he exclaimed, his voice cracked with joy and disbelief.
Vermin took a cautious step back, his brows drawing together in confusion.
(I think the lord has finally lost his mind! He must have hit his head… Argh… better to stay quiet before I say something wrong.)
Shan's eyes sharpened, the light of determination replacing the confusion. "Hey, Vermin… Where is my son right now? And what year is it?"
Vermin blinked rapidly.
(Now I'm sure of it! The lord has lost it completely! What kind of questions are these?)
He coughed awkwardly and straightened up. "Cough… Ahem. My lord, the young master is in his room at the moment. And the year is 1022 of the Celestial Calendar."
Shan exhaled slowly.
So it really is… before the end. Before everything fell apart.
"Ohh… is that so?" he murmured, his voice tinged with something far deeper than nostalgia—regret, sorrow, and a flicker of hope.
Vermin hesitated, then added cautiously, "My lord… today, you instructed me to cast out the young master from the Lion Family. But… perhaps you might reconsider? I know it's not my place, but…"
Shan waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing away the memory of a mistake he no longer intended to make. "Oh, that? Forget it. Don't kick him out. Just leave him be."
Vermin blinked.
(What the hell is going on? A moment ago, he was furious with the young master, and now he's talking like nothing happened…)
He bowed stiffly. "Yes, my lord."
(Something's changed in him… but maybe this change isn't bad.)
But fate, as it often does, proved itself resistant.
Despite not casting Jun Lion out this time, despite Shan's decision to leave him be, the future didn't change. The timeline flowed like a river with too much momentum to be redirected. In the end, Jun still became the embodiment of destruction. The world still burned.
Again, Jun stood before his father, his face void of all emotion.
"Any last wish, Father?"
Woosh…
Woosh…
The sword struck. Shan Lion died.
And returned once more.
The second time, he thought: Maybe mercy is the mistake. Maybe kindness cannot reach him.
So he struck first.
He hunted Jun down early, while the boy was still growing, before the power awakened in him. Shan steeled his heart, buried the love of a father, and struck down his only son.
For a moment, it seemed the future might finally change. The darkness would not rise.
But no.
The world still crumbled. Somehow, impossibly, Jun returned—and with him, ruin.
Again, he stood before Shan.
"Any last wish, Father?"
Woosh…
Woosh…
Shan Lion died again. And again, the clock reset.
The third time. The fourth. The fifth. The sixth.
No matter what he did—love, hate, mercy, cruelty—nothing changed. Every timeline ended the same. Jun's eyes—cold, distant. His blade—unavoidable. His words—unchanged.
By the seventh time, Shan was no longer a man burdened by fate. He was a man hollowed by it.
In his final moment that time, Shan Lion howled at the sky.
"Why?! Why…! Why can't I change this endless circle?! What am I doing wrong?! Every time I try, I fail! How many more times do I have to try?!"
Jun appeared, unshaken, unwavering. "Any last wish, Father?"
Shan's rage dissipated. A strange calm took its place.
"My last wish? Hah… I've tried so many times to change this fate, Jun. And every time… I failed."
Jun looked at him, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I know, Father."
Shan's eyes narrowed. "What? What did you just say? You knew?"
"I didn't say I knew it from the beginning."
That answer chilled Shan more than any sword could.
"So now even this is within your power…" he murmured. "Fine. Then tell me—why did I fail every time?"
Jun's voice was low, almost pitying. "Is that your final wish?"
"Yes… you can call it that."
Jun's answer was a whisper. "Because you never tried properly, Father."
The words struck Shan like a thunderclap. Not for their cruelty—but their truth.
He stared at his son, wide-eyed. "I see…"
A slow, tired smile spread across Shan's face. "What are you waiting for, Jun? Go ahead. Do it."
Jun nodded. "Goodbye, Father."
Woosh…
Woosh…
As darkness wrapped around him once more, Shan's thoughts drifted.
What a dark world… If I go back again… I'll definitely try to make this world brighter…
And then—
Gasp.
Shan's eyes snapped open.
He was back. Again.
The familiar chamber. The morning light. The same scent of ink and steel. A voice.
"My lord… My lo—"
Shan raised a hand. "Hmm… Vermin. Don't worry. I'm fine. And don't kick out my son. In fact… tell him I want to see him."
Vermin blinked. "O-Okay, my lord. (How did he know what I was about to say…?)"
"Wait," Shan added. "Don't tell him. I'll go see him myself."
Vermin hesitated. "Oh… okay, my lord. (What is the lord planning now…? Never mind. I should just observe.)"
"Oh, and also—bring two wooden swords. Meet me at the training ground."
"Yes, my lord."
And with that, Shan Lion turned and strode toward the place he had avoided before—his son's room.
The long stone corridors of the Lion Family estate stretched before him, quiet and cold. But there was something different in the air. A quiet hum of possibility. A thin thread of hope.
This time, Shan thought, I won't be his enemy. I won't ignore him. I won't hurt him.
This time… I will try to understand him.
He didn't know if it would be enough. But for the first time in seven lifetimes… he would try to be a father.
To be continued…