Chapter 22: I Refuse to Waste This Life

After the door closed and Hera's footsteps gradually disappeared beyond it, Zeldryn remained seated in the chair. The light from the hallway that had briefly entered through the open doorway vanished with her departure, leaving the room illuminated only by the dim glow of the candle on the table. Its small flame swayed gently whenever the night wind slipped through the gap in the window.

Zeldryn didn't do anything right away. He simply sat there, thinking about everything Hera had told him about himself, the Giorry family, the mansion, the old Zeldryn's habits, and the way the people here had treated him all this time. At least some of the things that had seemed strange since morning were finally beginning to make sense, but the more he learned, the clearer one thing became: there was still a great deal he needed to do.

First, of course, was his body. The wounds and bruises covering him were slowly getting better, but pain still appeared whenever he moved too much, and his neck hadn't fully recovered either. In his current condition, doing anything too strenuous was obviously a bad idea.

Then there was mana. Zeldryn could already see it and sense the presence of the mana particles around him. From what he remembered about Manholers, that made him assume Zeldryn Giorry's body most likely possessed a Mana Hole. Finding mana was no longer the problem because he had already passed that stage. What he still didn't understand was how to absorb those particles into his body or, once they entered, how to move the mana toward his Mana Hole.

Earlier that afternoon, Zeldryn had already tried the simplest methods he could think of. He had attempted to touch the mana with his hand, only for the particles to pass straight through him. He had even tried blowing on them, but nothing changed. Physical objects seemed to have absolutely no connection to those particles, which meant there had to be another method he simply didn't know yet.

Zeldryn tapped one finger against the surface of the table, stopped briefly, then tapped it again. If he really could become a Manholer, sooner or later he would have to figure out how mana worked. Power was far too important to ignore.

He already knew a fair amount of general information about this world. After all, Reka had spent around three months reading a novel with more than five thousand chapters before waking up in this body. He knew this world wasn't peaceful, that mana could give humans strength far beyond what ordinary people were capable of, and that several locations, events, and other things he remembered from the novel would eventually become important.

That knowledge, however, wasn't particularly useful when it came to Zeldryn Giorry's personal life. The mansion, its servants and guards, the Giorry family, and even the old Zeldryn's habits were all things he had only started learning piece by piece from Hera. The novel he had read had never explained every single person who lived in this world, so matters like these were things Zeldryn would still have to investigate on his own.

He remained silent for quite a while before another thought entered his mind. Power was important, certainly, but there was something else he considered just as important.

Money.

Zeldryn leaned back slightly in his chair. After all, the person inside this body was still Reka, a grown man who had lived for more than thirty years in the modern world. Strength might allow him to survive, but money was what could make his life comfortable.

He didn't want to spend his second life doing nothing but figuring out how to avoid dying. If that was all there was to it, then it wouldn't feel much different from his previous life, where he had woken up, gone to work, returned home, eaten, slept, and repeated the same routine day after day and year after year. That cycle had continued until he eventually lost his job and only then realized just how much time had slipped away.

Zeldryn slowly clenched his right hand into a fist and raised it slightly in front of his face. Candlelight fell across the back of his hand, illuminating several wounds that were still visible there. He stared at them for a few moments.

He didn't know why he had ended up in this world, nor did he know who or what had brought him here. But there was one thing he had already decided.

'I refuse to waste this life.'

Zeldryn tightened his fist as the words passed through his mind. He had already wasted too much time in his previous life and had no intention of making the same mistake again. He wanted to become strong, earn money, live comfortably, and most importantly, have the freedom to decide for himself how his second life would unfold.

After a few moments, Zeldryn opened his hand again and lowered his gaze toward the table. Several sheets of paper rested not far from his hand, with a pen lying beside them. He had already noticed both items earlier, but until now, he had never actually used them.

He stared at the blank sheet for a moment. There were too many things in his head now, and if he relied entirely on his memory, sooner or later something would slip through the cracks. Zeldryn reached out, picked up the pen, and examined it briefly. Its shape was obviously different from the pens he had used in the modern world, but judging from its design, he could more or less guess how it worked.

He pulled a sheet of paper toward himself. “Better write everything down,” Zeldryn muttered.

When he lowered the tip of the pen toward the corner of the paper, however, his hand paused. This was the first time he had actually tried writing since waking up in this world. Zeldryn drew a short line and watched as the ink left a mark across the paper.

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “It works.”

At least the thing wasn't difficult to use.

Zeldryn began writing down several things he considered important, starting with his body and mana before adding the Giorry family, the mansion, and money. His hand stopped after writing the final word, and he read through the short list again.

His body needed to recover. That much was obvious, and for now, his physical condition remained his biggest obstacle. Mana came next because he needed to figure out how to absorb the particles around him and guide them toward his Mana Hole.

Then there was the Giorry family. Hera had given him some basic information about his relatives, but it wasn't nearly enough. The same applied to the mansion. He still didn't know most of the people working here or how the place was actually managed. He didn't know who was responsible for it, how many guards or servants there were, or exactly how much authority he possessed within the estate.

Zeldryn's gaze then moved to the final word on the list.

Money.

He placed a small mark beside it. This probably wasn't something he could solve anytime soon, but he had no intention of forgetting about it. He might be the son of a Marquis, yet the Giorry family's wealth didn't mean that wealth actually belonged to him. If Zeldryn truly wanted freedom, then sooner or later, he needed his own source of income.

He began adding a few smaller notes beneath the main topics. Every now and then, his hand stopped while he considered different possibilities before continuing to write. Some ideas were immediately crossed out because they were still too far into the future to worry about, while others were marked so he could ask Hera about them later.

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Zeldryn hadn't been writing for long when his eyes began to narrow. He leaned slightly closer to the paper. The words were still visible, but not particularly clear, and when he raised his head, his gaze immediately landed on the candle sitting on the table.

“It's so damn dark,” Zeldryn complained quietly.

Only now was he truly beginning to understand just how terrible the lighting in this room was for writing. A single candle provided enough illumination for him to see the objects around the table, but reading small handwriting for any length of time was far from comfortable, especially when the flame kept moving whenever the night wind entered through the gap in the window.

The shadow of Zeldryn's hand shifted constantly across the paper, sliding from one side to the other and occasionally covering the very words he was trying to write. He moved the candle slightly closer and tried again, but after only a few words, he stopped because the shadow of his hand had become even larger. Zeldryn moved the candle to the other side, attempted to continue, and finally sighed.

“Electric lights really are an incredible invention,” Zeldryn said while staring at the candle.

In his previous world, he had never thought much about something so simple. Whenever a room was dark, Reka only had to press a switch and the entire room lit up. There was no need to adjust the position of the light source, worry about inconvenient shadows, wonder whether the flame might go out, or think about how long the candle would last. Now, even writing a few lines felt far more troublesome.

Zeldryn shook his head slightly and continued writing. The pen hadn't moved for long, however, when he felt something running down the side of his head. He stopped and immediately raised a hand to wipe his temple.

Sweat.

He looked at the small amount of moisture on his finger before glancing toward the window. “It's pretty hot too.”

The wind occasionally slipped through the gap, but it wasn't enough to make the room feel cool. Zeldryn tugged at the front of his clothes several times to let some air in, yet it hardly helped.

In his previous life, whenever he felt hot, he could simply turn on a fan. If the weather became unbearable, there was air conditioning. Here, he had neither.

Zeldryn's body might belong to this world and had been born and raised without ever experiencing electric fans or air conditioning, but the mind inside it still belonged to someone from the modern world. He obviously wasn't used to this.

Even so, Zeldryn lowered his head and continued writing. Several minutes passed before he wiped his forehead again, wrote a little more, then wiped away another layer of sweat and returned to the paper. He repeated the process several times until a drop finally slipped from his chin and landed directly on the sheet.

Zeldryn's hand immediately stopped. He stared at the small wet spot beginning to form on the paper.

“Seriously?”

He quickly wiped his forehead with his sleeve before another drop could fall. Fortunately, the sweat hadn't landed on anything particularly important, so Zeldryn shifted the paper slightly and tried writing again. Before long, however, sweat began forming on his forehead once more.

After wiping it away yet again, Zeldryn finally put the pen down and leaned back in the chair. “Modern life really was comfortable, huh?” he said to himself while staring at the candle.

He remained quiet for a moment before continuing. “There were lights when it got dark. There were fans or AC when it got hot.” Zeldryn wiped another bit of sweat from his forehead and watched the candle flame for a few seconds. “And I used to think all of that was completely normal.”

He had only been in this world for a short time, yet it was already enough to make him realize how many simple comforts he had never thought about before. Zeldryn shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the paper, where several lines now covered part of its surface.

He picked up the pen again, but just as he was about to continue, his hand stopped. Zeldryn stared at what he had written for several seconds, and his eyebrows slowly drew together.

“Wait.”

He examined the writing more closely. This world had a different calendar, different month names, and a completely different system for measuring years. Its civilization was also nothing like the one Reka had known, yet one simple thing had only just occurred to him.

Ever since opening his eyes in this world, he had never struggled to speak with anyone. Whether it was Hera, the servants, the guards, Henry, or Aeglo, Zeldryn had understood everything they said without any effort. The same was true whenever he spoke to them. There had never been a moment when he needed to stop and think about which language he was supposed to use. Everything simply felt natural.

“English...” Zeldryn muttered.

At least, that was how he had understood it until now. But the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. This world had its own history and civilization, even its own calendar system. The idea that everyone here simply happened to use exactly the same language as people from his original world seemed far too unlikely.

Zeldryn looked at the paper again, and another thought immediately followed.

Writing.

The words in front of him had been written by his own hand. That meant they couldn't prove whether the people of this world actually used the same alphabet.

Zeldryn shifted his gaze toward the empty corner of the room. Ever since he first woke up, he had noticed that there weren't many objects inside the room, but he had never examined what little there was in much detail. At first, he had deliberately avoided doing so because he had no idea what kind of writing system this world used. If it turned out to be different and someone saw him struggling to read something that Zeldryn Giorry should obviously recognize, it would only create suspicion.

Now, however, his curiosity had returned. He briefly considered finding something he could read to test his theory, but then his gaze returned to the candle on the table. Even reading his own handwriting was already troublesome under this lighting. Trying to examine writing that might be completely unfamiliar right now wasn't a good idea.

“I'll check tomorrow morning,” Zeldryn told himself.

If the writing system in this world turned out to use the same alphabet he knew, then the situation would become even stranger. But if it was different, perhaps he wasn't actually hearing English at all.

Zeldryn touched his chin as he considered the possibility. Maybe something was automatically translating the language of this world into words he could understand.

“Some kind of transmigrator ability?” Zeldryn quietly asked himself.

He almost laughed after saying it. The idea sounded ridiculous, but after literally being transported into the world of a novel, things like that no longer seemed impossible.

“If that's really the case, then it's incredibly useful,” Zeldryn said with a small nod.

At least he wouldn't have to learn an entirely new language from scratch. Otherwise, his attempt to pretend he was still Zeldryn Giorry might have collapsed on the very first day.

Zeldryn picked up the pen again and added two more notes to an empty part of the paper: language and writing. He marked both of them before setting the pen down for a moment.

“Tomorrow,” he muttered.

For now, he couldn't confirm either possibility. He needed brighter light and something that had actually been written by someone from this world.

Zeldryn then read through everything he had written. His list now covered his body, mana, the Giorry family, the mansion, money, language, and writing.

'That's a lot,' Zeldryn thought.

And he had only been here for a very short time.

Most of those problems couldn't be solved tonight. His body needed time to recover, while the Giorry family and the mansion required more information. Money was something he would have to think about gradually, and the questions surrounding language and writing would have to wait until morning.

There was only one thing he could still investigate right now.

Zeldryn's gaze stopped on a single word.

Mana.

He stared at it for several moments. Earlier that afternoon, he had already succeeded in seeing and sensing mana, so that was no longer something he needed to prove. The problem now was figuring out how to interact with it.

Zeldryn put down the pen and leaned back in the chair while recalling what he had done earlier that afternoon. Golden-yellow particles had filled the air around him. He could see them and sense their presence, but whenever he tried to touch one, his finger passed straight through it. Even blowing on them hadn't made the particles move.

Physical interaction clearly didn't work, which meant absorbing mana probably had nothing to do with physical movement.

Zeldryn tried to recall everything he knew about Manholers. Absorbed mana was supposed to enter the body and gather inside the Mana Hole, but knowing that still left him with the most basic problem.

How was someone supposed to make mana particles enter their body in the first place? And once the particles were inside, how were they guided toward the Mana Hole?

Zeldryn stared into the empty space in front of him. If he truly possessed a Mana Hole as he suspected, then there should be some way to make mana respond to him. He simply hadn't found it yet.

He slowly took a breath. “This time, I'll figure out how.”

Zeldryn didn't immediately close his eyes. Instead, he sat silently for several moments, searching his memory for everything he had ever read in the novel about mana. He wasn't trying to remember overwhelming displays of power, advanced techniques, or battles. What he needed was far more basic than any of that.

He needed to remember how a Manholer first brought mana into their body.

Zeldryn slowly closed his eyes. The sound of the wind still came through the gap in the window, and the heat inside the room hadn't disappeared, but little by little, he began shutting everything else out.

For now, everything else could wait. His attention returned entirely to the mana particles surrounding him, but this time, his goal wasn't simply to see them.

He wanted to make one of them move.