The night air was cool and still as Floyd lay on his bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling of his room, its swirling carvings dimly illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the window. His heart still beat faster than usual, the echo of Mina's kiss lingering on his lips like a ghost he didn't want to banish.
It hadn't been a dream.
The softness of her lips, the warmth in her eyes, the gentle tug of her fingers against his—he could still feel all of it. Mina had kissed him, and for the first time in both his lives, Floyd felt something beyond comfort, beyond affection. He felt wanted.
He placed a hand on his chest.
Is this what it means to start over… to really be loved?
But he didn't linger too long in thought. The system window suddenly glowed softly at the edge of his vision.
> [System Notification] Emotional Spike Detected: Affection Level with [Mina Hartwell] Increased. Affection Status: Budding Intimacy Reward: +5 Charm, +1 Passive Regeneration Boost for Affection-based Interactions.
Of course, Floyd thought with a smirk. Even my love life has stats now.
Still, the gamified message stirred something inside him. This wasn't just about affection or stats or boosts. It was the beginning of the life he never had a chance to live before.
And he wasn't about to waste it.
---
The next morning, the manor was abuzz with subtle energy. The scent of fresh bread, eggs, and some kind of honey-roasted meat drifted through the corridors. Floyd sat up, stretched, and ran a hand through his wild black hair. He slipped out of bed, pulling on the tunic and trousers Mina had left neatly folded beside him.
Downstairs in the grand dining hall, he found his father, BohLin Jitters, already seated and sipping from a heavy ceramic mug.
"Morning, son," BohLin grunted, motioning toward the seat beside him. "You're late. Thought I'd have to come drag you outta bed myself."
Floyd slid into the seat, grabbing a piece of warm bread. "Didn't sleep in. Just… thinking."
His father raised an eyebrow. "That so? Girl trouble already?"
Floyd nearly choked.
"No! I mean—what? No, nothing like that."
BohLin laughed, a deep belly-laugh that echoed across the hall. "Relax, boy. Just messing with you."
Floyd gave a nervous chuckle and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. His father was sharp—too sharp. He had a way of looking at someone and peeling their layers away. And even though BohLin had no idea his son was the reincarnated soul of a 34-year-old shut-in, sometimes Floyd swore he knew something was different about him.
"By the way," BohLin said between sips. "We're heading to the training grounds today. Time you start sparring with real people. Not just practice dummies."
Floyd blinked. "Real people?"
His father grinned. "Don't look so scared. You've got potential. But potential's no good if you never test it. Gabby said your magical control is ahead of most adults. Now I want to see if your sword arm can keep up."
---
The Jitters family training grounds were vast—an open-air stone arena surrounded by trimmed hedges and enchanted barriers that absorbed magical overflow. Dozens of retainers and house knights trained here regularly, but today it had been cleared for a private session.
Floyd stood in the center, wooden training sword in hand, facing off against a girl around his age.
She was tall for her age, with short brown hair and a confident smirk. Her footwork was light, and her grip on her sword was solid.
"This is Mira," BohLin introduced. "One of our best young retainers. Don't hold back. She won't."
Before Floyd could even nod, Mira lunged.
She was fast. Faster than anyone Floyd had sparred with before. But his reflexes, honed through magic combat simulations and muscle memory from his previous life's games and training routines, kicked in. He ducked, sidestepped, and countered with a strike that clipped her arm.
Mira staggered back, laughing. "Not bad. I thought you were supposed to be pampered."
"Guess I'm full of surprises," Floyd muttered.
They clashed again and again, wood striking wood, sparks flying off enchanted barriers as small magical bursts escaped their motions. Floyd started to sweat—not from exhaustion, but exhilaration.
He was alive. And this life… it was his.
---
By the time training was done, Floyd's arms ached, but he was grinning ear to ear. Mira patted his shoulder.
"You're weird, you know that? Strong, smart, quiet… but you've got this look in your eyes like you've lived a hundred years."
Floyd glanced away. "Maybe I have."
She tilted her head, then shrugged. "Whatever. You're interesting."
---
Later that afternoon, Floyd sat in the manor's vast library. His system menu hovered in the corner, cycling through new options.
> [New Skill Unlocked] Sword-Magic Synchronization (Passive)
Small increase in physical agility and reaction time during close-range combat.
> [New Message Received – Gabby Fox] "Report to the northern wing tower tomorrow at sunrise. We begin your intermediate element channeling. Wear something you don't mind catching fire."
Floyd grinned.
Training with Gabby always ended in some kind of disaster—but it was also some of the most fun he ever had. The redheaded mage was brilliant, wild, and had an odd way of leaning over his shoulder that made it hard to concentrate.
And now, with Mina's affection slowly blossoming, and Mira's playful attention, he wondered if this new world wasn't just giving him power and safety—but the relationships he'd always craved.
---
That evening, Mina returned to his room with warm towels and a knowing smile.
"Did you miss me?" she asked teasingly, placing the towels beside the bath basin.
Floyd, flushed, looked away. "I… might've."
Mina stepped closer, her fingers brushing his hand. "You're growing fast, Floyd. I'm proud of you."
His throat tightened. Her words, her gaze—they held something he had never received freely in his previous life. Not just admiration, but… genuine care.
And he couldn't help it.
He reached out, just a bit. Mina didn't pull away.
Instead, she smiled softly and whispered, "Goodnight, young master," before leaving the room.
Floyd sat in silence.
The warmth of her fingers lingered longer than the heat of the bath.
And somewhere deep within, the boy who had died alone began to heal.
---