Kays Translations

Chapter 1: Leo Merlin

I still cannot forget that day, when I asked Leo Merlin what his secret was for being so powerful.

I only heard him whisper softly in my ear—

“I have money!”

—Excerpt from The Classic Memoirs of Fate

The cold wind stretched out its hand and quietly pushed open the window that hadn’t been shut tight. Moonlight seized the chance, slipping stealthily into the dim room. A crow perched on the treetop outside witnessed the scene and began to caw, as if warning the one inside.

The wind, as though enraged by the crow’s cry, dropped all pretense. It revealed its true nature, shoving the window wide open with force and scattering the stack of rough paper piled upon the desk.

Rustle, rustle, rustle—

Countless sheets covered in dense writing took to the air, whirling and tumbling about the cramped room like drifting funeral paper, before slowly descending upon the motionless boy lying on the floor, as though tucking him under a blanket.

In a haze of darkness, Zhao Lin felt himself bound by an invisible weight, sinking into a bottomless abyss. Icy liquid surrounded him; he struggled to breathe, but every attempt only yielded a deeper suffocating despair. His heartbeat thundered like a drum, each pulse tolling the knell of death.

Suddenly, a searing pain lanced through his head like a blade, wrenching him from the endless nightmare. He snapped open his eyes. The blurred outline of a room swam before him, while harsh breaths and the pounding of his own heart filled his ears. He tried to sit up, but the pain pressed down like a thousand pounds, forcing him back to the floor.

Sweat mingled with tears, sliding down his forehead and dripping onto the pillow with a faint sound. He shut his eyes, struggling to steady the pounding in his head and chest, yet the echoes of the nightmare still reverberated in his mind. It felt as though he had clawed his way back from death’s edge, the terror and helplessness still clinging tightly to him.

The air in the room seemed thin. He gulped down great breaths, trying to drive away the drowning shadows of his dream.

Time passed. The pain gradually dulled, his heartbeat slowed, and at last the boy managed to sit up.

He looked around, reassuring himself that he was truly back in the real world, far from that dreadful dream.

Slowly, Zhao Lin stood, walked to the window, and pushed it open. The wind rushed in, carrying away the lingering residue of the nightmare.

He drew in a deep breath, savoring the raw truth and preciousness of life. Though the dream had passed, its scars would take time to heal.

“Where am I?” Zhao Lin rubbed at his brow and spoke aloud.

He was alone in the room. It could have been a question to himself—or perhaps to someone unseen.

How strange. Hadn’t he been in the office, coding? How had he suddenly ended up here?

His last memory was of collapsing from exhaustion while working overtime. An orphan raised in a welfare home, Zhao Lin had endured more than a decade of hardship. He studied tirelessly, and with government assistance, graduated from a prestigious university. After grueling rounds of selection, he finally landed a coveted job as a programmer at the great Goose Factory. Yet before he could even receive his first month’s salary, he had dropped dead.

So much for a happy life. Wasn’t this death a little too hasty, a little too absurd?

Sitting on the bed, Zhao Lin groaned. His head throbbed fiercely, like a migraine—sharp spasms pulsing again and again. But Zhao Lin was no stranger to migraines. It was painful, yes, but tolerable. Annoying, more than anything.

What on earth had the original owner of this body gone through?

As he thought this, he lifted his head—and froze.

Before him, across from the bed, stood a full-length mirror. And within it… was not the face he remembered.

The familiar black hair and black eyes were gone. The reflection staring back bore no resemblance to his former self. He had braced himself for this, but the strangeness coursed through him like an electric current.

In the mirror sat a handsome Western noble youth by the window, like a figure painted onto an exquisite oil canvas.

Soft, golden hair, lightly curled, cascaded naturally to his shoulders. Moonlight poured through the window, setting his locks aglow with a gentle sheen. His eyes, a deep sapphire blue, were like the morning sea—clear and bright—yet with a sharpness and intelligence hidden in their depths.

His features were finely chiseled, a high bridge to his nose, lips thin and sensual, his skin pale yet touched with a healthy flush, unmarred by the hardships of storm or sun.

His attire spoke of nobility. He wore a tailored linen shirt that outlined his tall, straight figure, delicate lace embroidered at the cuffs, the silver threads tracing out a complex family crest. At his collar was tied a pristine silk cravat, beneath which gleamed a silver brooch inlaid with a brilliant sapphire that mirrored the color of his eyes.

The very picture of a Western aristocratic youth. If he were dropped into Ginza, he’d be the king of hosts within the week.

Even Zhao Lin couldn’t help but gape at his own reflection. Too handsome… this is unreal.

And then, without warning, a tide of foreign memories surged into his mind.

Leo Merlin—the sole son of Count Leo, of the Dawn Empire. Once, the Leo family had shone with unrivaled glory, the sharpest spear of the empire’s conquests. But after the Six Empires signed their peace accords, war faded from the land of Aezela. Without war, the Leo line dwindled, their strength sapped, their numbers few, their prestige fading.

Once dukes of the Dawn Empire, they had been stripped down generation after generation. Now, the Leo family lingered as an old, declining count’s house.

But even a fallen noble is still a noble. Duke, marquis, count, viscount, baron—count was still third in rank. In his past life, Zhao Lin had dreamed of climbing his way to the top. In this one, he had started already among the highborn.

Yet… clearly this was a transmigration of the soul. How had the original Leo Merlin died, allowing him to take over the body? There was mystery here.

After merging with Leo Merlin’s memories, Zhao Lin let out a long, helpless sigh. He placed his hands against his brow, then flopped back onto the bed in the shape of a starfish.

“No matter the reason… since I’ve absorbed the memories of this body’s original master, and claimed it for myself, then from now on, there is no Zhao Lin. There is only Leo Merlin.”

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