Rain fell quietly over the city.
Inside a dark apartment, a man stood in front of a dusty mirror. His name was Jin Haru, a forty-year-old shut-in with white hair and sharp golden eyes. Though the world had forgotten him, Jin hadn't forgotten his dream.
"I'll become the mastermind behind everything," he whispered to his reflection.
People called him strange. Some laughed at him. Most ignored him. But Jin didn't care. He had spent years studying war, history, psychology, and human behavior. In secret, he trained with wooden swords and practiced moving without making a sound.
He didn't want fame or glory.
He wanted control.
"I will rule from the shadows. I will become the king no one sees."
That night, something changed.
For the first time in months, Jin left his apartment. As he walked through the rainy streets, he heard a cry from a dark alley. A man was dragging a small child, who was clearly terrified.
Without thinking, Jin ran toward them.
"Let the child go!" he shouted.
The man turned, pulling out a knife. Jin moved fast, years of practice guiding his body. With calm focus, he knocked the man down and freed the child.
But as he turned to leave, another figure stepped from the shadows.
Jin barely had time to react.
Stab!
The cold blade pierced his back. Pain exploded through him. His vision blurred. The child ran, screaming.
Jin collapsed onto the wet ground. Blood poured from the wound.
Why…? he wondered.
The world faded into darkness.
---
There was no light. No sound. Just silence.
Jin drifted in nothingness, unable to move or speak.
Then, a gentle warmth touched his skin.
Light returned.
He opened his eyes.
"He's awake!" a woman's voice cried in joy.
Jin blinked against the light. A soft bed. A grand ceiling. A beautiful woman with long brown hair smiled down at him.
"Darling! Our son opened his eyes!" she called out.
A tall man with silver armor and a warm expression entered the room. "My son... welcome back."
Jin tried to speak, but only a small cry came out. He looked at his tiny hands—soft and small like a baby's.
What is this...? I've been reborn?
New memories flooded his mind.
His name was now Arkan Valen, the youngest son of the powerful Valen family in the Kingdom of Veradin. His father was a famous 9-star swordsman. His mother was a noblewoman of great grace and wisdom.
He had been reincarnated.
In a world of swords and magic.
His dream was alive once more.
---
Years passed.
Arkan grew into a clever, observant boy. At five years old, he had soft white hair and golden eyes—just like in his past life.
To his parents, he was a sweet and quiet child. But when they were asleep, Arkan became Jin Haru again.
He explored the grand library, reading everything he could about magic, mana, swordsmanship, and ancient history. He studied quietly, memorizing runes, tactics, and the rankings of knights and mages.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sense mana. He couldn't use even a basic spell.
Even his sword swings felt weak.
"Do I have no talent here, either?" he muttered beneath the moonlight.
Still, he didn't stop.
He crafted a wooden mask and trained in the courtyard at night, swinging his sword hundreds of times in silence.
"I may not have power yet… but I still have my mind."
He was building something in secret.
Something dangerous.
---
On his fifth birthday, the castle was full of music and joy. Nobles came from far and wide. Servants decorated every hall. Arkan wore a fine tunic and smiled at the guests.
But deep inside, he was thinking.
So many powerful people… and yet none of them see what's coming.
That night, he snuck away from the party and entered a hidden room behind his bookshelf.
Maps covered the walls. Old books were stacked on a desk. Handwritten notes and wooden training weapons lay scattered around.
He lit a candle and opened a book on war strategy.
"I will rise from the shadows. Slowly. Quietly."
Outside, fireworks lit the sky.
Inside, a future mastermind planned his rise.
But he didn't know…
That was his last peaceful night.
---
War came suddenly.
The enemy army crossed the kingdom's borders. Flames spread across nearby towns. Soldiers marched toward the capital.
The castle was thrown into chaos. Guards rushed to defend the gates. People screamed.
And in the shadows of the battle, they came.
Assassins.
They moved without sound, slipping past locked doors and hidden guards.
They found Arkan's room.
He woke with a jolt, but too late. A cloth pressed over his mouth. His arms were tied. He struggled, kicked, tried to scream—but they were too strong.
They carried him into the darkness.
Out of the castle.
Into the unknown.
And that night, the boy who dreamed of shadows… disappeared into them.