But before she could escape, a voice cut through the silence.

"My sweet maid, Lyra… where are you going?"

Lyra froze. Slowly, she turned. Roman was watching her, reclining on the bed with a sharp gaze that seemed far older than his years. His tone wasn't harsh, but there was weight behind it—enough to freeze her legs in place.

"N-nowhere, young master," she stammered, lowering her head. "I was only closing the door so you could rest peacefully."

Roman's lips curled into a faint smile. "I've rested enough. Go and prepare a hot water bath for me. I want to bathe."

"Yes, young master!" she said quickly, and hurried away with a speed born from both fear and duty.

The moment the door shut behind her, silence filled the room. Roman lay back, eyes drifting to the ceiling, his mind turning inward.

What is the real reason for my reincarnation?

So far, the system had told him only fragments. The Twelve Demonic Angels were a threat to humanity's very existence, but why was he chosen? Why him, a tyrant and failed king, granted another chance?

His thoughts darkened as he remembered the creature in the dark dimension—the monster wearing Allen's face, spitting curses of the past. Allen's words still cut deep, reopening wounds that never healed.

"I was the worst kind of human," Roman whispered into the empty room. "But this time… this time, I won't repeat my sins. This second chance is not just mine—it's Ruth's as well. For her dream, for our dream of peace, I will fight."

A knock came at the door.

"Young master, the bath is ready," Lyra's soft voice called.

Roman rose and opened the door. Lyra stood there nervously, holding a folded towel and scented soap.

"Thank you, Lyra," he said, his voice gentler than before. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, "And I want to make something clear—I'm not a ghost."

Lyra's eyes widened, her grip on the towel tightening. Roman walked past her, but then stopped midway.

"Show me the way," he said.

She nodded quickly, leading him down the hall. The golden chandeliers flickered above them, casting long shadows that swayed with each step.

On the way, Roman broke the silence. "Tell me, Lyra… what is my elder sister like? What's her name?"

The maid faltered in her step. Her eyes widened slightly before she turned to look at him in disbelief. "You… really are not a ghost, are you, young master?"

Roman chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I'm not. It's just… I was treated like I didn't exist. My family ignored me, so I forgot what it even meant to have a sister. That's why I want to know. Tell me about her—her name, her achievements, her personality."

For a moment, Lyra hesitated, searching his face for deception. But she saw none—only earnest curiosity. Finally, she sighed.

"Her name is Selene Crowell Lyra said softly. "The duke's proudest child. At the academy, she was called the 'Radiant Spear'—a genius of both sword and magic. She has inherited the duke's strength and the late duchess's wisdom. Many nobles say she is the future of this house."

Roman's lips curved slightly. "So my sister is truly a remarkable person…"

They arrived at the bathroom doors. Roman paused, turning his gaze back to Lyra. "She seems like a big shot compared to me, doesn't she?" He chuckled lightly before his tone shifted. "Now leave. I want to bathe alone… or would you like to join me?"

Lyra's face turned crimson. "N-no, young master!" she squeaked before dashing away, almost tripping over her skirt.

Roman laughed quietly to himself before entering the vast bath chamber. Steam curled into the air, carrying the scent of lavender and herbs. He disrobed and slipped into the hot water, the heat embracing his tired muscles.

For a long moment, he simply breathed, letting the warmth soothe him. But beneath his skin, he could feel them—the two cores pulsing with power. One glowed with golden brilliance, radiating divine purity. The other seethed with pitch-black energy, heavy and suffocating, carrying the echoes of his past life's cruelty.

Roman closed his eyes. "Good and evil… both inside me. A strange balance."

The water rippled as he leaned back, sinking deeper. Just then, the system's cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.

[System Notice: In three days, a Dungeon Key will be granted. The user will undergo training for five years within the dungeon. Time dilation activated: five years inside will equal one day in the outside world. Prepare yourself, Warherald.]

Roman groaned, covering his face with one wet hand. "Not again… Another trial." Then he let out a long breath. "But… this is good. This fragile body needs tempering. If I want to survive, I must be ready. Five years of training in one day… it's a blessing disguised as torment."

Minutes passed as he allowed himself to relax. Then, rising from the bath, Roman dried himself with the towel Lyra had left. He slipped into a fresh set of clothes—finely tailored garments that Butler Adam had prepared. The fabric was smooth, the crest of House Crossford embroidered in gold along the collar.

Roman glanced at himself in the mirror. For the first time since his reincarnation, he didn't look like the "useless youngest son." Instead, he looked like someone preparing to step onto the stage of destiny.

Tonight, he would dine with Duke Jacob. And for the first time, he would meet his elder sister, Selene.

He clenched his fist. This is only the beginning.