Prologue: The Overlimit Skill Can Only Be Used by Reincarnators (8)

I felt I understood how Lark felt after gaining power, but I felt nothing like her intense desire. I was simply calm.

…The mine guards have been reinforced. The adventurers who had been sleeping were roused and pressed into service on the mine guards' side. We slaves wear plain clothes, so we're easy to spot. At this rate, it will only be a matter of time before we're subdued.

"But I can escape."

I knew exactly how many people were in the great cavern. If I took advantage of this opening, there were any number of ways to escape.

I burst out of the warehouse. Then I headed for—the "cliffside residences."

The wooden houses built as if clinging to the cliff face, where Lark and I had slept and lived for three years, were in a terrible state. There had been collapses everywhere, and entire houses had fallen and been crushed. Fortunately, the "cliffside residences" had been prepared for the mine slaves, so most people must have been away at morning assembly.

"Ah…"

But a very small number of slaves had remained behind: those who had overslept after drinking too much the previous night, and those bedridden with illness.

I saw an arm sticking out from beneath one of the crushed houses. Whoever it belonged to was already motionless.

"Damn it."

What had that ground rumble been? An earthquake? But I had never heard anyone mention earthquakes in this world. It was questionable whether such a word even existed. Everyone had called this shaking a "ground rumble," after all.

I ran. I was looking for Old Man Hinga. His house was no longer on the cliff face, so I knew it had apparently fallen to the ground.

"Old Man Hinga!"

I found the old man's house standing at an angle after crushing several other houses. The door was open at a forty-five-degree angle upward.

Beneath it, I found the old man sitting on the rubble.

"…What is it, brat? You survived that collapse?"

The old man said this to me as I ran up, his tone slightly standoffish as always.

Ah—so that's it.

This was the kind of person he was.

It was only after the contract magic wore off that I noticed: there was no tattoo on Old Man Hinga's arm whatsoever. He hadn't been a mine slave to begin with. I still didn't know why he had been living in this mine, in the same housing as the slaves, but I understood his intention all the same.

Old Man Hinga was kind beyond measure.

In this world, acquiring "knowledge" was unbelievably difficult. Institutions of advanced education—in other words, not only "universities" but even "high schools"—were accessible only to an exceedingly limited privileged class.

And yet this old man possessed a wealth of knowledge and freely shared it with anyone who wanted it—including me. True, I did bring him his meals, but he taught me so much that such labor could never have been adequate payment.

The mine. Skill Orbs. Slaves and magic. Poisons and medicinal herbs. The means of surviving in this world.

And yet Old Man Hinga never once tried to be kind to me.

That was because—

"Old Man Hinga... You deliberately kept me at arm's length so that we could leave the mine without a shred of attachment, didn't you?"

It wasn't because I had a Skill that I realized it. This man's very bearing told me everything.

I had always suspected he was no ordinary man, but sitting there now, Old Man Hinga possessed the full dignity of a sage.

"! ... I see. You... I see... The contract magic has worn off, has it? The little Achenbach brat is dead."

"You knew the duke?"

"I barely know the man himself, but I know his father well. How many times did I have to clean up after that fool when he drank too much and then went to work?"

This old man might be far more important than I'd imagined—at least in social terms.

"Old Man Hinga. This place is in complete chaos right now. Why don't you leave with me?"

"…That is impossible."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I had been living here from the beginning with the intention of dying here. And the other reason is—this."

"!"

I had been so caught up in what Old Man Hinga was saying that I hadn't noticed he was bleeding from the left side of his abdomen.

"When the house fell...?"

"That was part of it, but the old wound reopening was a bigger factor. In any case, I didn't have long to live. I'll die quietly here."

I couldn't say anything. I could only clench my teeth in frustration.

Blood trickled from the old man's mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, his face twisting in irritation.

"…I had hoped to see the sun at least once more, but noon is still a long way off... The sun only shines here for about thirty minutes around noon."

"Old Man."

I had already made up my mind.

"Noon is still a long way off, but the mine exit isn't that far. I'll lend you my shoulder."

"…I'll accept the kindness, then. Even if the mine guards here are all idiots, surely they won't let two people—an old man and a brat—through."

"—Reiji."

"Hm?"

"My name is Reiji. I'm not a brat."

My previous life had ended. But in this life, I had never been given a name.

So I decided to keep using the name Reiji.

But—

"The Rei in Reiji is zero. The ji in Reiji is two."

"…What happened to you in such a short time?"

Old Man Hinga frowned as if to say he didn't understand. As far as I knew, this world had no kanji.

I was starting over in this world. Starting from "zero." And—since I had an older sister, I would call myself "Number Two" as her younger brother.

"I'm going. Come on, give me your hand."

"…You really are serious."

"Of course."

The old man took my hand and rose unsteadily. I supported him from the side opposite his wound—but it made us look almost as if we were embracing.

I noticed that he didn't have the smell of grime about him. Instead, he carried a sharp, mint-like scent.

"Ngh…"

Even though he was as frail as a withered branch, I had to use all my strength just to support Old Man Hinga.

"Let's go...!"

Driven only by my desire not to let this man die in a place like this, I started walking. One step at a time, we made our way out of the mine, even if our progress was as slow as a turtle's. The single-minded conviction that I would get him out was the only thing moving me.

Because this man was the one who had let me study—the "learning" I had longed for in my previous life.

Because he was someone who had done something for me without asking anything in return, when all I'd ever known was being "used" by others and "never thanked."

Because in this world where I had only ever been deprived, he was the second person to "give" me something.

And—because he knew about my connection with Lark, the first person to "give" me something.