The first few days in the new house were quiet and uneasy. Meals were the worst of it—Arslan sitting at the table, trying to smile through the silence while Elaine kept her answers short and polite, and Ludger ate as if nothing was out of place. The clinking of utensils often felt louder than the conversations.

But slowly, little cracks began to form in Elaine’s frosty exterior. She still kept her guard high, but sometimes her lips twitched when Arslan made a fool of himself retelling an adventuring story, and every now and then she’d correct him mid-sentence without the sharpness she usually carried. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a softening.

Ludger noticed it right away—and it annoyed him to no end. Seriously? Leave for five years without saying goodbye, rack up debt, act like a bumbling idiot, and you still get to warm her up just because you’re easy on the eyes?

He stabbed at his food a little harder than necessary. Only good-looking guys can pull off nonsense like this. If I tried that, I’d get disowned, by my families on both planets.

Arslan, of course, seemed blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his son’s head. He took every small smile from Elaine like a personal victory, puffing his chest out and grinning like he’d won a battle. Ludger wanted to roll his eyes so hard they’d leave the back of his skull.

Still, even if he’d never admit it aloud, there was a small part of him that was relieved. As irritating as his father’s charm was, a house where his parents spoke like people instead of strangers was better than the icy silence he’d feared.

One evening, after dinner, Arslan leaned back in his chair with that grin Ludger was already growing sick of. He tapped the table with his calloused fingers, then looked at his son with a gleam in his brown eyes.

“Hey, Luds,” he began, drawing out the nickname like it was already settled law. “How about we do something tomorrow? Just the two of us. Father and son, you know?”

Ludger arched an eyebrow, spoon still halfway to his mouth. “Like what?”

Arslan leaned forward, lowering his voice as though revealing a grand secret. “I was thinking… fishing.”

Elaine, who was clearing plates, stopped mid-step. She glanced over her shoulder, lips twitching, though whether it was amusement or disbelief was hard to say.

Ludger, meanwhile, stared flatly at his father. Fishing? That’s your big plan? I could be grinding skills, training my body, or figuring out new ways to break the system… and you want me to sit by a pond and wait for a fish to feel charitable?

Arslan, oblivious to the storm in his son’s head, chuckled and nudged his arm. “Come on, Luds. It’s tradition! My old man took me when I was your age. A bit of peace, a bit of quiet, and maybe we even bring dinner home. What do you say?”

Ludger sighed through his nose, tapping his fingers against the table. Peace and quiet, huh? More like hours stuck next to him while he tries too hard. Still… maybe it wouldn’t kill me to see what he’s like outside of the house. If nothing else, I can level Patience as a skill.

Elaine set the plates down with a small smile. “If you can keep him out of trouble, Arslan, then yes. Go fishing.”

Arslan pumped his fist like he’d just won a war. “Ha! See? Your mother approves. Tomorrow, then!”

Ludger groaned inwardly, already regretting it.

That night, after his father had finished boasting about their grand fishing trip and Elaine had shooed him off to bed, Ludger lay staring at the wooden beams above his room.

Fishing. Father-and-son bonding. He’d seen that in movies, read it in books, even overheard coworkers back on Earth rambling about it on Mondays. Was that really a universal thing? He was pretty sure this wasn’t Earth—he’d made peace with that long ago—but the overlap was weird. Humans, families, awkward fathers trying to connect with their sons… maybe worlds weren’t as different as he thought.

He turned on his side, frowning into the dark.

Still… why me?

It was the first time the thought really hit him. Why had he been reborn here? Was there a reason? A hidden plan? Or had it just been some cosmic dice roll, a random chance that threw him from his old life into this one with a system no one else seemed to see?

The idea gnawed at him. If there was a reason, he hadn’t seen even a hint of it. No divine messages. No mysterious benefactor whispering in his dreams. Just a system that rewarded him for learning like a maniac and punished him when he overreached.

And if it was a chance…

Ludger sighed, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. If it was chance, then it was up to him to carve meaning out of it. No overseer, no destiny—just him and his stubborn will.

For the first time since his birth, he felt the faint chill of the question: Am I here to do something great, or am I just… here?

Ludger had decided that the fishing trip could serve a purpose after all. Sitting by the water with nothing to do but wait for fish sounded like the perfect chance to untangle the thoughts gnawing at him—the why of his reincarnation, the purpose behind it, if there was one at all.

That plan fell apart almost immediately.

From the moment they left the house, Arslan never shut up. He talked about fishing knots, about “the one that got away” when he was Ludger’s age, about how his father used to swat him on the back of the head for scaring the fish with too much noise. Every step of the journey was filled with his voice, cheerful and steady, as if silence was a crime against nature.

Ludger sat in front of him on the saddle, staring grimly ahead, trying and failing to hold on to his earlier resolve. So much for peace and quiet. Next time, I’ll “accidentally” bring earplugs.

For the first time, though, as they passed through the gates, he noticed something he had somehow overlooked in his years of short outings with Elaine: the city was walled. Thick, high stone fortifications loomed above, their towers bristling with guards and ballistae.

Ludger’s eyes lingered on the battlements, a faint unease curling in his chest. Right… of course it’s walled. If dragons exist, you don’t live in a city without walls. Guess I was too busy staring at people and grinding language to notice before.

The horse trotted along the road, Arslan keeping one arm steady around Ludger’s waist. To Ludger, it wasn’t embarrassing—it was annoying. Sharing a horse with his father, sitting snug in front like some toddler who needed help to keep from falling… It was humiliating in the wrong way.

He sighed through his nose, tightening his little fists. Forget fishing. Forget destiny. First chance I get, I’m getting my own horse. Or better yet—I’ll just run faster than one.

Once they left the city walls behind, the world opened up into wide fields bathed in sunlight. Rolling hills stretched in the distance, dotted with patches of trees and the faint shimmer of rivers. Farmers worked the land, their carts loaded with sacks of grain and baskets of vegetables, while the occasional herd of livestock grazed lazily near wooden fences.

Ludger found himself staring, quietly mesmerized. He’d seen the city streets, the tavern, the cramped houses, but this—this was different. Open, alive, full of detail he hadn’t bothered to notice until now.

Arslan, of course, noticed his silence and took it as an invitation.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” his father said, his tone warm, almost smug. “This area’s safe. No labyrinths anywhere close, and adventurers sweep through every season to burn out monster nests. That’s why the farmers can work without fear.”

Ludger hummed, not bothering to look back. Safe, huh? Guess even this world needs its comfort zones.

But Arslan wasn’t done. His chest puffed out a little as he spoke, his voice brimming with pride. “Don’t get me wrong, though. Not every place is like this. There are forests where the trees themselves try to crush you, swamps where the ground swallows men whole, deserts crawling with beasts the size of villages. And that’s not even touching labyrinths. Labyrinths are worse—full of monsters that grow stronger the deeper you go, and some so twisted even veterans won’t step past the first floor.”

His brown eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve been to a few, you know. Not the deepest ones, but deep enough to know when to stop. And believe me, son, there are things out there you can’t even imagine yet.”

Ludger glanced at him briefly, his lips twitching into a thin smirk. Of course. A seasoned adventurer bragging to his kid—it’s practically a script at this point. But still… dangerous monsters, labyrinths, swamps that eat people alive? Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of place I’ll need to see for myself one day.

For the moment, though, he just nodded and let Arslan talk. If nothing else, the man’s stories painted the world in brighter, sharper colors than before.

For once, Ludger wasn’t rolling his eyes at his father’s endless chatter. The mention of labyrinths had caught his attention. He straightened slightly on the saddle, his green eyes flicking up at Arslan.

“So… what exactly do adventurers do? And labyrinths—what are they really?”

Arslan’s grin widened at the question, clearly pleased that his son was showing interest. “Adventurers?” He tapped his chest proudly. “We’re the ones who keep the world running. We hunt monsters, clear labyrinths, guard caravans, escort nobles, explore dangerous lands—pretty much all the important stuff. Without us, cities like ours wouldn’t be standing.”

His voice carried the conviction of someone who believed every word, but Ludger’s sharp mind chewed it apart quickly enough. So basically, mercenaries. Hired muscle. Just a bit more polished and less cutthroat than back-alley thugs.

“And labyrinths?” Arslan continued, his expression sobering. “Those are the real challenge. They’re monster lairs, created around places where mana gathers unnaturally. All that energy seeps into the ground, twisting the space inside. It breeds monsters like rabbits and feeds them, makes them stronger the longer they stay. That’s why labyrinth monsters are so much tougher than the ones outside—you’re basically fighting creatures living on an all-you-can-eat buffet of mana.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing something dangerous. “The deeper you go, the worse it gets. Some say the bottom floors aren’t even part of our world anymore. Just… raw chaos wrapped into a dungeon.”

Ludger’s lips twitched, part smirk, part frown. So adventurers are just mercenaries with cooler titles, and labyrinths are glorified monster farms powered by mana. Dangerous, sure, but also the perfect place to grow stronger. And if the system rewards me for learning and surviving… then labyrinths might be the key.

For the first time in a while, Ludger’s chest buzzed with genuine excitement.

As the horse trotted steadily down the dirt road, Ludger found himself listening more than talking. Arslan’s stories tumbled out one after another—labyrinths he had seen, monsters he had fought, cities he had visited. The man’s brown eyes gleamed like a boy unwrapping presents, his voice loud and animated, as though every word should leave his son in awe.

But the truth was the opposite.

Ludger sat still in the saddle his face unreadable. Inside, he was processing every scrap of information, weighing the facts, filing away details about labyrinths and monsters. The knowledge was useful, practical.

It was Arslan who was carried away with excitement.

Ludger realized, with a faint smirk, that their roles had inverted. His father was the one thrilled about the trip, buzzing with energy like a child eager to impress, while Ludger was the one calm and nonchalant, letting him talk without showing much reaction.

He couldn’t even bring himself to blame the man. Once upon a time, Ludger had thought about what he’d do if he ever had kids. He imagined planning activities, showing off skills, making himself look cool in their eyes. But he’d never had the chance—life had crushed that dream before it even began.

And now here he was. A child again, sitting in front of a man who clearly wanted to play that very role.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Guess we both got what we didn’t expect, Ludger thought, his lips twitching into the faintest smile as Arslan kept rambling.

The trip didn’t take as long as Ludger expected. Barely an hour out from the city walls, the dirt road curved down into a valley where a lake shimmered under the morning sun. Its waters rippled with a soft breeze, reflecting the sky like glass.

On the way there, Ludger had finally pried one more detail from his father’s endless chatter: the city they lived in was called Koa. Just Koa. It didn’t sound particularly grand or meaningful, but Ludger didn’t dwell on it. A name was just a name.

They tied the horse to a sturdy tree at the edge of the clearing, its reins knotted loosely so the beast could graze on the patchy grass. Arslan slung a small bag over one shoulder and, with his other hand, proudly carried two fishing rods as though they were weapons of war.

“Come on, Luds,” he said, grinning ear to ear, trying to whistle a tune as he walked toward the lake. The sound came out more like a wheeze than a melody, but he seemed satisfied enough with it.

Ludger trailed behind him, hands in his pockets, studying the calm water and the thick reeds that lined the shore. So this is it, huh? The grand father-son bonding moment. A lake, two rods, and a soundtrack of off-key whistling.

He sighed, shaking his head, but followed anyway.

In no time at all, they were settled by the shore. Arslan handed Ludger one of the rods with exaggerated care, like he was entrusting him with a relic, then planted himself beside him on the grass. The two lines cut into the surface of the lake with faint ripples, bobbing lazily as the water swallowed the bait.

It was obvious that a boat would have made the whole thing more efficient—fish usually didn’t hang around the shallows, after all—but it didn’t matter. They weren’t here to haul in dinner.

Ludger leaned back slightly, his small hands resting on the rod, eyes wandering beyond the water. In the distance, the horizon was crowned by jagged mountains, their peaks hazy under the sun. The sight carried weight, a reminder that the world stretched far beyond the city walls of Koa.

Above them, the sky was alive with movement. Strange birds wheeled and glided in all shapes and sizes—creatures with wide, kite-like wings, some with long tails that flickered like banners, others flapping in tight, furious bursts as they chased one another across the open air.

For once, Ludger felt his muscles ease. The strange world, the endless grind, the awkward drama at home—none of it mattered in that moment. The lake, the mountains, the birds… all of it gave him a fleeting but genuine sense of peace.

As the breeze rippled across the surface of the lake, Ludger sat with the rod in his hands and let his gaze drift beyond the horizon. The mountains in the distance, the strange birds crisscrossing the sky, the sheer openness of the fields around them—it all pressed on him in a way he hadn’t noticed before.

He realized, with a faint tug in his chest, that he hadn’t really paid attention to any of this world until now. His eyes had always been turned inward, on the glowing blue windows of the system, the slow grind of skills, the numbers ticking upward one at a time. When he wasn’t training, he was helping his mother or grudgingly tolerating his father.

It was safe, simple, contained.

But as he sat there, the wide lake stretching endlessly before him, Ludger understood something: that wasn’t enough. He hadn’t been reborn into this world just to count numbers and scrape by in the corners of a tavern. His world had been no larger than a kitchen, a yard, a city street.

Now it was time to make it expand.

His small hands tightened on the fishing rod as he drew in a slow breath, eyes narrowing at the far-off peaks. “Yeah,” he thought. “This world’s bigger than I’ve been letting it be.”

The thought burned in him, steady and certain. Whatever destiny or chance had thrown him here for, he wasn’t going to find it staring at his status screen alone.