The story is of Viktor, in his past life as Arjun, he was counting his last breaths on earth, while laying on the deathbed cursing his misfortune, unaware that he was about to get a second chance at life, a do-over in another world, a chance at happ...
As the afternoon approached, the tranquility was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door of a quaint cottage nestled at the edge of the square.
Madeleine, a beautiful woman with long white hair and gentle blue eyes, stood in her apron, her heart filled with love and annoyance in equal measure. She approached the door, muttering to herself, "Mikhail, I told you that you are forgetting your lunch, but as always, you're in such a rush..."
As she swung the door open, the breath was knocked from her lungs. With a gasp, the basket of food she was holding clattered to the floor, scattering its contents across the threshold. There, standing under the archway, was her son, Raphael, looking every bit the hero he was—a seasoned tank of the adventurer party known as The Guardians of Vianden. His wavy brown hair tousled and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, he bore the faint scars of battles fought and won.
Madeleine, enveloping Raphael in an embrace that spoke volumes of unspoken love and missed years, pulled away just enough to clock his familiar features.
At the sound of the thud, Wolfgang, Madeleine's husband, rushed from the living room, his brows furrowed with concern. But as he entered the doorway, he was met with a sight that sent his heart racing—his son, once thought lost, was back at last.
"Hello, Father," Raphael greeted, his voice warm, but laced with an edge of uncertainty.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She playfully jabbed him on the shoulder. "Twenty years," she began, struggling to keep her voice steady, "Do you realize how long that is? One letter in the last fifteen, and we didn't even know if you were alive or dead!"
Wolfgang stepped forward, his voice a calming presence. "I'm sorry, son," he noted, eyes misty, "But your mother has been an emotional wreck since that quest in Oostberg when you nearly lost your life."
Raphael lowered his gaze, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes. "I am sorry, Father, Mother. After the incident, we agreed to limit our contact to spare you both worry. We thought it best..."
In unison, Wolfgang and Madeleine murmured, "We?" Raphael, eyes glinting with mischief, turned to Nina, who stood patiently at the edge of the porch, a tranquil presence in her blue-and-white dirndl, holding their infant son.
"Mother, Father," Raphael said, "meet my wife, Nina." He paused, a smile blooming on his face. "And this is our son—your grandson—Viktor."
Madeleine's breath hitched, and she almost fainted at the sudden rush of emotions. "A grandson?" she stammered. Her hands flew to her mouth, unable to articulate her surprise. Wolfgang, equally astonished, wiped a tear from his eye, his heart swelling with pride.
As they settled into the warm embrace of their living room, Madeleine's curiosity burst forth like a flurry of snowflakes. "Tell me everything! How did this happen? Do Nina's parents know?"
