Episode -01
What if you remembered everything from your past life, vividly…?
“The title of king doesn’t suit you at all.”
My armor was shattered to pieces.
Every joint in my body was twisted; I could barely stand upright.
It felt as though gravity magic was pressing down on me, my body weighed a thousand tons.
The man before me stood tall, idly stroking the horns on his head as he smiled.
“Even among kings, there’s a difference in class. Don’t you agree… Mercenary King?”
“…Demon King.”
The Demon King.
The one who opened the gates of the demon realm and invaded this world.
The supreme ruler of the demon race.
And now, he was basking in complete victory after defeating me — humanity’s final hope.
“What an unfortunate life you’ve lived. I’ve known of you for quite some time.”
“…”
“A pitiful boy, cast out from a house of prophets.
Traded crystal spheres for steel, only to end up like this.”
He knew me too well.
The title of “Mercenary King” was something I’d earned through blood and sweat,
but my true origin was that of a disgraced apprentice noble —
a discarded heir from a family of seers.
Apparently, the Demon King found me amusing, because instead of finishing me off,
he crouched down and met my gaze.
“Tell me, Mercenary King,”
he said, lips curling into a cruel smile,
“weren’t you ever angry at your family for abandoning you?”
“…Who knows.”
“They left you to die in the forest, didn’t they? Surely that must have stung.”
“Petty grudges don’t matter. I forgot about them the moment you tore the sky apart.”
“Is that so?”
He stood up slowly.
“I see. Some men simply don’t know how to hate.”
He grasped his sword hilt.
Ten years of war were about to end here.
He could feel it too — the final moment.
“What use was prophecy to your kingdom?”
He sneered.
“All it did was annoy me, yet not one of those prophets foresaw their own deaths.
If your family had been competent enough to see what was coming,
they wouldn’t have been wiped out so easily.”
“…”
He raised his blade high.
“Then die, last heir of a fallen house.”
At that instant,
something like lightning flickered through my head —
a sensation I had never felt before.
‘Huh?’
It was as though something dormant in my brain had suddenly awakened.
‘I… feel like… I want to say something?’
It was small — a flicker of emotion.
A spark of rebellion.
Just one petty, useless desire.
“To hell with that — the only ones who died out before having kids were your people.”
“What?”
For the first time, the Demon King’s expression faltered.
I had never seen that look on his face before.
“How do you know that…? No. Impossible.”
His eyes trembled, then hardened again.
He gritted his teeth and lifted his sword.
“It can’t be! The foul-mouthed hero died centuries ago — I saw his corpse with my own eyes!”
He shouted,
“Cunning wretch! This ends now!”
“—Not so fast!”
Clang!
I swung my battered sword in defiance,
but—
CRACK.
The old blade shattered in two.
The Demon King’s sword descended toward my skull.
‘What a damn life.’
And that was the end of me.
“—Hah!”
I jolted awake, gasping.
A strange ceiling loomed overhead.
No — not strange.
Familiar.
Deeply, achingly familiar.
“So, what do you see?”
The voice snapped me back.
This wasn’t a hospital, or a barracks, or a chapel.
It was somewhere I hadn’t seen in years —
a classroom.
“What do you see, Allen?”
“Uh, hold on…”
I turned my head.
Around me were several children —
young nobles-in-training.
Apprentices, just like I once was.
And in front of us stood an elderly man — our tutor.
‘The classroom… of the House of Prophecy?’
That’s right.
The class for prophetic training —
where apprentice scions learned to use their foresight.
“Allen, I asked you — what do you see?”
“Uh, well… I, uh…”
I stalled for time.
My head was spinning.
I had just been fighting the Demon King moments ago — dying, even.
And now I was here?
“Allen? Don’t tell me you can’t see anything?”
Laughter rippled through the room.
“Ha! Look at that face — he’s got nothing.”
“He’s too nervous to see even a flicker!”
“No wonder they call him the idiot noble.”
“Guess we’ll find him in the mines when he’s older!”
Their jeers stabbed at me from all sides.
I looked down —
a single, upside-down card lay on my desk.
An oracle card, bearing the crest of our family.
And in that moment, realization struck me.
‘I’ve gone back… to the past?’
I blinked in disbelief.
I’d seen miracles on the battlefield —
but never this.
I was sixteen again.
Back in the House of Prophecy.
“Allen, I asked you— what do you see?”
“Uh, my card… I, uh, just give me a—”
“Allen! Are you mocking me?”
The teacher’s patience was running thin.
The laughter grew louder.
But I couldn’t answer —
not because I lacked foresight,
but because I’d just realized something else.
‘This isn’t a dream, is it?’
If it wasn’t a dream…
then where did the dream end, and reality begin?
‘This is the divination exam… and—’
I remembered.
The teacher had asked me to read the card’s unseen image —
to foresee the picture that would appear once flipped.
And my past self…
had concentrated with all his might.
‘So that means…’
A light seemed to burst inside my head.
‘The “dream” of my entire life… was just my vision of the future?’
All those decades —
my life as the Mercenary King —
were a single, endless prophecy.
‘I wasn’t talentless at all.
I was too gifted — too gifted to handle it!’
As that absurd revelation dawned,
the teacher slammed his pointer on the desk.
“Enough for now. Let’s take a short break.”
Right.
That’s exactly how it happened before.
Back then, I’d failed to answer,
and he’d announced a break before reporting to the family head that I was useless.
‘You bastard…’
Now I remembered everything.
I had foreseen the future —
and returned.
Right to the worst possible moment of my life.
“Let’s begin again. Hands on your knees.”
Break time was over.
The teacher gave me one last chance —
a formality before my expulsion.
‘Unbelievable…’
Even if I’d seen the future,
there was no way I could recall what card he’d drawn decades ago.
No human memory was that sharp.
If I failed,
I’d be cast out again.
But what choice did I have?
I exhaled.
“Well, whatever happens— it’s gotta be better than dying to the Demon King.”
“Can you see it?”
“I can.”
“Then say it.”
As his patience thinned,
the other students smirked, waiting for my downfall.
“The card’s image is…”
I paused—
then spoke.
“…a man holding a heart?”
The teacher blinked.
I froze.
‘Wait… I remember this. I remember it.’
Suddenly, it was all there.
Every memory — crystal clear.
Not just the card —
the angle it was turned,
the light,
the sound of birds outside the window.
I could see it all.
“And the next card is…”
“A maid breaking her glasses. The top-left corner’s faded.”
“…What?”
“Next — a mustached woman cleaning the floor.”
“Next — a man-eating plant swallowing an apple pie.”
“Next — a fat man wearing his underwear backward.”
“And beneath that — a boar rolling a giant coin.”
The teacher’s hand trembled.
“Wh–what is this?”
He stammered.
“I… didn’t see anything earlier…”
“I did see it,” I said calmly. “I was just too nervous to speak.”
“I… I see.”
His tone changed immediately —
from disdain to awe.
Trash turned to treasure before his eyes.
At sixteen, a child who could read cards this clearly
was a prodigy beyond compare.
“Amazing,” he murmured.
“To think you could calm yourself so quickly…”
Now, I could see the greed in his eyes.
He was already imagining my future —
and his own prestige.
“Yes, this talent… this might be the key. If nurtured, in five years—”
I chuckled.
He looked up, startled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Markel Isibes.”
He blinked.
“Yes, that’s my name. What of it?”
I kept talking.
“Dalia. Lonz. Della. Visilene. Onere. Kelline.”
His expression froze.
The other students began shouting.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Stop showing off!”
But one of them — the oldest — suddenly went pale.
“Wait… those names… they’re all…”
The room fell silent.
“They’re all dead, aren’t they?”
Yes.
Every name I had spoken belonged to maids of this household —
women who had all been found dead in the nearby woods years later.
I looked straight at the trembling teacher.
“It was you, wasn’t it? The maid killer.”
The memory had come flooding back.
The infamous scandal that had shaken the entire continent.
“Why don’t you answer me, Markel Isibes?”
“Th–that’s absurd…”
His eyes darted toward the guards standing by the door.
But it was too late.
They had already drawn their swords.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to come with us.”
“Please remain calm.”
“Calm? CALM?! You don’t understand— how could he know—!”
He backed away, legs trembling uncontrollably.
“How could you possibly—!”
I crossed my arms and smiled.
“I saw it.
You bragged about it yourself — to the maid, right before you killed her.”
“Lies! You can’t possibly— you don’t have a crystal sphere!
You can’t perform a prophecy like that!”
He stammered, retreating toward the corner.
“I’m innocent! This child is lying!”
I tilted my head and said softly,
“The key under your bed.
The trophy box in your hometown pantry.”
His blood drained from his face.
The other students shivered.
The guards advanced.
Markel Isibes crumpled to the ground.
“H–how… could you… suddenly…”
How?
It was history.
Everyone in the future knew about the Prophet House Murders.
I smirked and answered him plainly.
“It just came to me.”
“ALLEN! YOU DAMN BRAT—!”
His scream was drowned out by the sound of steel unsheathing.
