Annie’s gaze dropped to the floor, worry knitting her brows together. "Yes, the few males... it’s been so hard for so long."
Kain nodded gravely. "Only five men remain in the village. The head said we need to carefully select the strongest and healthiest among them. Tomorrow, there will be tests to group those men to find the best breeders. It’s a harsh plan, but it’s our chance for survival."
Annie blinked, swallowing hard as the reality settled. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Rael, then back to Kain.
"Our son... is he going to be one of the breeders as well?"
Kain gave a small, reassuring nod. "Yes. He will be part of that group."
Annie’s lips parted in a mixture of both pride and fear. "It’s a heavy burden for him to bear. But... if it means hope for our people, then he must be strong."
She stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm. "We will support you, Rael. Whatever happens, you are not alone."
Rael nodded, the warmth of her voice calming him down. "Yes, Mother. I am ready for whatever comes. For the village, for our people. I won’t let you down."
Annie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she pulled him into her embrace. "I know, my son. You carry the weight of all of us. But remember, we’re with you every step of the way."
Kain’s eyes softened as he glanced at his wife and son sharing such a beautiful moment together. It was moments like this that made everything worth it—every struggle, every pain, and every curse.
After a few warm minutes, Kain looked around and asked with concern, "Where is your mother?"
Annie, still holding Rael’s hands, lowered her voice to a whisper. "She’s resting... She has been having bad backaches lately."
Kain lowered his head. the weight of reality sinking deep into his bones. "It’s not just the curse on our ability to reproduce," he said slowly, his voice thick with regret.
"Our lives themselves are burdened. Our people don’t live as long as they should. The young take years just to grow, but when adulthood comes, it fades away too quickly. Our bodies are fragile, our immune systems weak. We suffer illnesses that others wouldn’t even notice."
Rael’s heart clenched as he thought of his grandmother—once strong and full of life, now a prisoner to a cursed life.
"We’ll find a way," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "We have to."
With that, Rael excused himself and walked to his room. Once inside, he closed the door shut and fell weakly on the floor.
"What is going on? He murmured, everything in a blur and haze.
Rael—no, Julian—stared at his hands. They were smaller, softer, and uncalloused. His pulse quickened as he brought them to his face, feeling the smooth skin of a child.
"Fuck... what is happening..." he whispered again, his voice cracking—not from emotion, but from the pitch of a younger throat.
Memories began swirling in his head, crashing against each other—like waves of two lives merging in chaos.
He remembered it all.
The duel with Death... the cold spear of void... and his death.
"I died," he murmured.
But his eyes scanned the small, dimly lit room. The strong walls, the worn rug beneath him, the faint warmth of life still pulsing through his veins. No—this wasn’t the end.
"It seems I’ve replaced this boy’s body..."
The images still flashed violently behind his eyes—the mocking voice of Death, the overwhelming pressure, the final strike. And yet... he was here. Not as Julian Easvil, the Archduke. But as Rael, the son of a cursed village.
He slowly stood, legs trembling from the unfamiliar frame.
"I don’t know how, but it seems I haven’t gone out yet," he whispered.
And then, a smirk flashed across his face.
"Death... it seems you missed your mark."
Julian had actually regained consciousness the moment Rael stepped into the village gathering. The blur in his head cleared with every step the boy took, and by the time he sat beside the man who called him "son," Julian was fully aware of his past life.
He was definitely surprised at first. Waking up in a child’s body, surrounded by strangers in a wooden village hall, hearing talk of exile and curses—it wasn’t something that happened every day.
But Julian had been in far more dangerous, unpredictable situations before. He knew how to survive. So he calmed himself, stayed quiet, and observed.
At first, he thought this would be a boring gathering about crops, farming, and maybe some old folks arguing over cattle. But then the talk turned to punishment from the gods, to the curse of no sons, to choosing breeders—and suddenly it was far more exciting than he expected.
"This might just turn out fun."
He investigated his new body carefully, running his fingers along the arms, chest, and legs.
At first glance, it looked like the body of a child—maybe twelve at most. But the longer Julian examined it, the more he noticed strange irregularities. The bones were dense, the joints slightly worn, and there was a stiffness in the muscles that no child should have.
Something was off.
Julian narrowed his eyes. "This isn’t a normal kid’s body..."
He sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and took a deep breath. Then he closed his eyes and focused inward. As expected, the flow of mana was sluggish, almost pale, as if it hadn’t been energized in years. And the more he studied the energy around the body, the more he realized just how wrong the timeline was.
"This body... it’s not twelve. It’s probably forty... maybe even fifty," he muttered.
His brows furrowed deeply. "Because of the curse... they age slower. They look like children but rot on the inside."
He stood up, feeling a little sick at the thought, but curiosity pushed him forward. With a deep breath, he started doing light jumping jacks.
"One... two... three..."
By the fiftieth count, his breath was already becoming short. After just two minutes, Julian collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat, gasping like he had run a marathon.