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Chapter 2
Hans picked up the clothes that had fallen to the floor, staring at them with vacant eyes.
A smaller body.
The clothes were undoubtedly his as well.
He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but for now, Hans decided to put the clothes on first. The moment he realized he was naked, he grew anxious that someone might suddenly walk in.
The clothes fit him perfectly, as if they had been tailored for him.
In the mirror, he saw the handsome face of his master, neatly dressed. Though the man had lived a debauched life obsessed with women and indulgence, his face alone was known throughout the Empire as exceptionally good-looking.
It was a face Hans had occasionally envied in his youth, but now that it had become his own, he felt not joy, but a strange sense of alienation.
Knock, knock.
“My lord, it’s time for your meal.”
A maid’s voice followed the knock.
‘Ghk!’
His heart dropped violently. Hans’s already anxious face turned pale—no, blue.
“My lord.”
When there was no reply, the maid called again. If there was still no answer, she looked ready to open the door and come in.
Hans frantically scanned the room. Like a child, all he could think about was hiding his body somewhere.
“My lord, I’m coming in.”
A brief moment passed, and a click echoed through the room. Swallowing a scream, Hans dove into the bed and buried his face in the pillow. He couldn’t bring himself to face her.
“My lord?”
The sound of footsteps approached, as if she were trying to wake him. Judging by her voice, she was quite an elderly woman. An inexplicable tension surged, and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.
“My lord, you must wake up.”
Her tone was gentle, but Hans didn’t move and continued pretending to sleep. A moment later, the maid lightly placed her hand on his shoulder and carefully turned his body onto his back. Afraid that resisting would expose him, he had no choice but to let her do as she pleased.
“Oh my, look at all this sweat.”
As his damp forehead was revealed, she exclaimed in alarm. Taking advantage of the moment, Hans cracked his eyes open slightly—and saw a familiar face.
‘Aunt Mag…!’
Just like Madeleine, she too had returned to a much younger version of herself from before his death.
“You have a bit of a fever.”
Mag withdrew her hand from his forehead, worry evident in her voice.
She was the same as ever. Perhaps because she had raised her master since childhood, despite how everyone else avoided him, she cherished him deeply—even into old age. Even now, she mistook Hans for her master and gazed at him with endless concern.
“Please wait just a moment.”
Mag gently covered him with the blanket that had fallen to the floor and left the room.
Was it because the tension finally eased? As soon as she left, his stiff muscles relaxed, and a small sense of relief washed over him.
Still, knowing she would soon return, he couldn’t completely let his guard down. As he lay staring blankly at the ceiling, doubts once again surfaced. Hans threw off the blanket and walked back to the mirror.
“……”
The faint hope he’d held was mercilessly crushed. Reflected in the mirror was still his master’s face.
Hans raised his hand and slowly touched his face. The rough, dry skin he remembered was gone, replaced by a smooth, soft texture beneath his fingertips. Unlike his own hands, hardened and calloused from years of hard labor, these hands were pale and beautiful.
Glossy black hair, and eyes as dark and shining as the night sky. Crescent-shaped brows, a high-bridged nose, and full lips.
No matter how many times he looked, it was a strikingly beautiful face—so refined one might mistake it for a woman’s at first glance.
‘Did my soul enter my master’s body?’
The thought suddenly crossed his mind.
But if that were the case, then what had happened to his master?
Had he died too and entered someone else’s body?
…Had he entered mine?
His thoughts spiraled endlessly.
“Come to think of it, not only did my body change… I became younger too.”
Both Madeleine and Aunt Mag, whom he had seen after coming back to life, looked at least ten years younger. The face in the mirror also matched his memory of his master from his teenage years.
‘Did I return to the past?’
“That’s impossible.”
The words escaped him reflexively. Dying and coming back to life was already unbelievable enough—returning to the past on top of that? And in someone else’s body, no less. It defied all logic.
“My lord, I’m coming in.”
Aunt Mag’s voice sounded again. Hans hurriedly tore his eyes away from the mirror and rushed back to the bed.
“I brought you some soup.”
As she entered, a delicious aroma filled the room. Perhaps he was hungry after all—suddenly, an appetite he hadn’t felt before surged, and saliva pooled in his mouth.
“You should get up now.”
As if she knew he was awake, Mag spoke gently. Hans flinched but decided to keep pretending to sleep.
However, she was persistent. In the end, Hans reluctantly opened his eyes and slowly sat up.
“Well done. You need to eat something to regain your strength.”
Just seeing him awake seemed to delight her as she smiled broadly and brought the soup over.
“Open your mouth.”
She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it toward his lips.
Hans had never once been fed by someone else. As far back as he could remember, he had always had to do everything on his own. As an orphan, he had never known what it was like to have parents.
“My lord?”
When Hans hesitated, Mag lowered the spoon and called to him. If he really had to eat, he preferred to do it himself. He forced himself to speak.
“…I’ll eat it myself.”
Perhaps because someone was with him, he suddenly became aware of his master’s voice—his own voice now—and felt strange. Though he was clearly speaking, it didn’t sound like him at all, and the realization unsettled him.
“…?”
Mag was just as startled by his sudden use of honorifics. There was no reason for a noble to speak politely to someone of such low status—and her master had never once done so before. The surprise quickly turned to concern.
“Here you go. Please, eat.”
People sometimes say strange things when they’re ill. Assuming his condition was worse than she’d thought, Mag hurriedly handed him the spoon.
“Thank you for the meal.”
Out of habit, Hans said the words and took a bite of the soup.
His eyes widened in shock.
It was a taste he had never experienced in his life. It melted the moment it touched his tongue, sliding smoothly down his throat—an indescribable flavor.
As a servant, all Hans had ever eaten were dry bread and bland soup with barely a trace of meat. On the rare occasions he was allowed special food, it was so infrequent he couldn’t even remember what it tasted like—and the portions were usually so small he ended up hungrier than before.
Though the soup was piping hot, Hans’s movements grew faster and faster. It took less than five minutes for him to empty the bowl completely.
Only after finishing did embarrassment hit him. Had he eaten too greedily in front of someone?
But Mag’s face, as she stood up with the tray, was filled with pure satisfaction.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you eat so well, my lord. This nanny is truly happy.”
She was the one moved to tears, even though he’d only eaten because it tasted good. Unsure what to say, Hans could only offer an awkward smile.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll take my leave. Please get some good rest.”
After checking his forehead once more, Mag left the room. Hans lay still for a long time afterward before finally rising from the bed, opening the door, and stepping outside.
He wasn’t sick to begin with, and his mind had calmed somewhat. Though his thoughts were still tangled, he wanted to see others now—wanted to confirm whether they too had returned to their past selves, like Madeleine and Mag.
Hans had lived as a servant of the Calista Count’s household since the age of six. He knew the castle’s layout so well he could navigate it with his eyes closed, and there wasn’t a single person he didn’t recognize.
He headed downstairs first.
“My lord, are you feeling any better?”
As soon as he entered the hall, someone appeared as if waiting and spoke to him. But contrary to his confidence, Hans couldn’t recognize the man.
‘Who is that?’
He was of average height, looked to be in his forties or fifties. The respectful speech confirmed he was a servant, yet there was a certain dignity about him. Though Hans didn’t recognize him at once, the man felt strangely familiar.
“Steward, everyone has gathered!”
A boy came running over at that moment. Upon seeing Hans, he hurriedly bowed.
‘Claude!’
Seeing his old friend, Hans nearly called out his name aloud.
Claude had been one of Hans’s closest friends before his death—a notorious miser. Smart and ambitious, he had dreamed of becoming a steward, but never got the chance.
As Claude appeared, other familiar faces came to mind—and at the same time, Hans realized who the unrecognized man was.
The steward, Almann.
He had been the household steward even before Hans first entered the Count’s service, but died in a carriage accident when Hans was fifteen. After his death, the castle’s management fell into chaos, so Hans remembered him clearly.
It seemed that forgetting over a decade of time had kept him from recognizing the man immediately.
‘Wait… if I really returned to the past, then this must be at least fifteen years ago.’
That was the only explanation if Almann was still alive.
‘Fifteen years ago…’
“My lord, are you looking for something?”
Almann’s voice pulled Hans back from his thoughts. Noticing Hans’s strange silence, he tilted his head in confusion.
The realization made Hans suddenly wonder what year it currently was.
Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out.
“Oh, it’s nothing, but… may I ask what year it is now?”
“…?”
Claude’s face immediately twisted in disbelief. Almann looked much the same, though less openly.
How could they not react?
Their debauched lord was now asking not about days, but about years. No matter how worthless a man lived, this was beyond the pale. Neither of them even noticed that Hans had spoken politely.
Perhaps thanks to his long years as a steward, Almann recovered faster than Claude. He spoke clearly and calmly.
“Today is June 10th, Imperial Year 853. It’s just past five in the afternoon.”
Hans barely heard the rest.
Just yesterday, he had been living in the year 868.
And now it was 853?
Did that mean he had truly returned fifteen years into the past—inside someone else’s body?
When the impossible lined up too perfectly with reality, Hans found himself speechless once again. And in that moment, a sudden thought struck him.
‘Then what about me? What happened to the real me?’
If he could find his original self, perhaps all this confusion would finally make sense.
“Hans! Where is Hans?”
For the first time in his life, Hans desperately called out his own name—not someone else’s.
But the looks Almann and Claude gave him were no different from before.
“Hans? Who is that, my lord?”
“There’s a servant named Hans here—h, Hans. You don’t know him?”
“No, I’ve never heard the name. Claude, do any of the recently hired servants go by Hans?”
Just in case, Almann even asked Claude—but Claude shook his head and replied that there was no such person.
‘…I don’t exist?’
Of all the shocks he’d received today, none hit harder than this.
He didn’t exist?
He had eaten, slept, and worked here from the age of six until his death.
And yet—he didn’t exist?
‘That’s impossible!’
