My earliest memory from back when things were still warm.
It was the winter I turned four.
That winter, an epidemic swept through the territory.
It was an illness that primarily targeted children; it caused red rashes across the entire body and high fevers that lasted for days.
While adults were largely unaffected, it was a cruel disease that bared its fangs mercilessly at the young.
I heard later that many children died in our lands during that time.
Sickness didn't care if you were the child of a count. My older brother got off easy, and my older sister didn't catch it at all.
I, on the other hand, caught a spectacularly bad case.
The third night was the worst.
Even though my body felt like it was on fire, I was so cold my teeth rattled.
I could feel Mother’s hand against my forehead, but her voice sounded terribly distant.
I was scared.
Even with my eyes open, the world seemed to grow dark. I tried to grasp her hand, but my fingers wouldn't listen.
And so, I sank into the darkness.
—I had a dream.
A very long dream.
In the dream, I wasn't me.
I was a man I didn't know—a different face, a different name, in a place I had never seen.
There was no magic in that world.
Instead, it was filled with things I had never seen before.
People used small, palm-sized slabs to talk to others far away.
Metal boxes carried people through the streets, and the cities were as bright at night as they were during the day.
It was amazing. Despite it being full of things I didn't know, strangely, I wasn't afraid.
The "person" in my dream was born there, grew up, and reached adulthood.
He worked to protect people in the city. He was a strong, upright man.
I watched blankly. Without even knowing who I was, I watched that man’s life the entire time.
At the end, he was swallowed by a great mass of water.
The ground shook violently, and black water approached from the horizon.
He kept shouting for the crowds to run. "Run! Get away!"
They all fled, while he stood his ground and shouted until the very end.
You usually forget normal dreams when you wake up.
But this dream was different. It had scents. It had heat. It had pain.
Everything, from beginning to end, remained clearly in my mind.
When I woke up, my fever had broken.
Mother was sleeping by my bedside. She must have been nursing me the entire time.
Seeing her slightly messy, deep purple hair brought me a sense of relief. This was my room. This was my mother.
But something was wrong inside my head.
It was stuffed with things I shouldn't know. Letters I couldn't read, words I had never heard, and the knowledge of how to use tools I had never touched. Everything that "stranger" knew was now inside my mind.
It felt nauseating.
Even though it was my head, it was filled with things that weren't mine.
In that dream world, there was a term called "previous life." It meant a dead person being reborn as someone else.
Was that man the previous me?
But I am not that man. He was an adult, and I am a child; we are completely different.
—I don't really understand.
However, there are things I do understand.
Mother’s hand is warm. This is my room. Those things are the same as they were before the dream.
In that case, I am still me. That dream was just like being shown a long, long recording. My inner self hasn't changed.
Maybe....Maybe.
I am Rein Verll.
I have an older brother and an older sister, a father and a mother, and I have a twin sister, too.
That much, at least, is absolutely certain.
"Rein. How are you feeling?"
Mother had woken up. She placed her hand on my forehead and narrowed her eyes slightly, confirming that my fever had subsided.
"Yeah. I'm okay now."
It wasn't a lie. My body already felt much lighter.
However, the inside of my head was still a mess, and that was a little scary.
"...Mother."
"What is it?"
"Call my name."
Mother looked a bit puzzled. Then, maintaining her usual cool expression but softening her mouth just a fraction, she said:
"Rein."
Yeah.
After all, I am Rein. If Mother calls me that, then it's true.
The mess inside my head still remains.
But I'm sure I can organize it someday. I have no basis for it; I just felt that way somehow.
My body, having just recovered from illness, was still a little heavy.
The warmth of Mother’s palm felt incredibly pleasant, and just like that, I fell into a normal—short—dream.