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Reborn Again

Special 2 . 2

Special 2 . 2

Feb 23, 2026



---

We stepped out together for the hunt, horses already saddled and restless beneath us. 

Our hunting attire was properly fitted—leather straps, dark riding coats, and polished boots—while our gear hung secure at our sides. 

The morning air filled with the faint scent of pine and damp earth.

Without the silence spared, Fredrick, unsurprisingly, rambled on about a topic I paid no full attention to.

“My father won’t let it rest,” he said, gesturing animatedly as his horse trotted beside Demir’s. 

“He keeps insisting I should open a medical academy instead of sending me off to military training. Imagine that. Me. Teaching.”

“You’d faint at the sight of blood,” Demir replied dryly.

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Fredrick protested. “I merely dislike unnecessary gore.”

I rode a short distance ahead of them, listening without joining in. 

Butler Hudson remained close at my side, posture straight as ever, with several guards following trailing behind.

The woods stood open, free access to venture around, or see through the scenery with ease.

Birds flitted freely above the trees and into the sky, unobservantly careless and unbothered. A good hunting ground.

I raised my arm without a word. Hudson noticed immediately. 

He briefly nodded, and motioned to one of the guards, who passed me a hunting handgun—a polished steel that weight familiar in my palm.

I inspected it, adjusted the mechanism, and brought it level with my sight. 

Then, I waited, watching and measuring the movements and distance of the birds, when grasped enough, I fired.

The sound cracked through the trees. One shot and a bird fell cleanly.

Remarkable, but not enough.

Fredrick let out an impressed shout— “That was flawless! Absolutely perfect—straight through!” —rather too enthusiastic.

I barely reacted. “It’s only the beginning,” I said simply.

Demir chuckle quietly and urged his horse closer. He gestured casually, and another guard handed him a handgun. 

His stance differed from mine—looser, and more instinctive. He aimed and fired.

Another clean hit.

I allowed myself a brief smirk. “Well done.”

He laughed under his breath. “Least hearing that from you.”

Fredrick huffed in sheer annoyance to our performances and rode forward, positioning himself between us. 

“You two are unbearable. Always showing off. I could do better if I weren’t sparing your pride.”

I raised an eyebrow and shifted aside. “Be my guest.”

A guard passed him a gun. Fredrick took it confidently, but his impatience betrayed him. 

He didn’t bother checking the settings nor steadied his position to aim. Neither did he observe the targets and fired too quickly.

The birds scattered instantly. Unsurprisingly without a hit in sight.

He lowered the weapon with a sigh. “Perhaps my father is right. Maybe I truly am unsuited for the battlefield.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I turned back toward the trees. The birds were gone now, no doubt offended by his carelessness.

Demir clapped a hand on Fredrick’s shoulder, offering comfort while clearly amused.

I rode on without comment, heading deeper into the woods. After a moment, they followed.

Servants passed us along the path, bowing as they went about their duties. 

Demir glanced around, mildly curious. “There seem to be more of them about than usual.”

I glanced as well, then dismissed it. “As long as the estate runs properly, I see no issue.”

We continued onward, discussing and firing at flitting targets. The hunt was unhurried.

Then Fredrick suddenly brought up a strange topic—something about fate and whether talent was inherited or earned.

Demir stayed indulged in the topic. While I rode on quietly at the front, my thoughts distracted.

Just as either expected, a faint snicker sounded nearby. 

I looked up instinctively toward the sound. Behind a tree some distance away, a figure crouched low, clearly attempting to hide.

It could have been a servant, but this was far too deep into the woods for idle wandering.

I raised a brow.

Demir edged his horse forward slightly and smiled. “Oh? Young Duke Calvin. There appears to be a little creature hiding behind that tree. Shall we investigate?”

I ignored his tone and lifted a hand. One of the guards stepped forward and called out firmly, “Come out.”

The figure startled and stepped into view, head bowed.

She wore a simple commoner’s gown—plain fabric, long and practical. 

A white scarf covered her head, though loose strands of hair escaped the untidy bun at the back, and fell on her face.

Her shoes were worn thin, with dark stockings visible beneath the gown hem.

She didn’t look up, but I already knew who she was.

Her.

The girl who has insisted on denying my identity repeatedly whenever we coincidentally met alone at dusk.

She was quite small, very disorderly, and sharp-tongued. 

Unruly in spirit if not in appearance.

Her face was swollen, marked with fresh bruises and she stood stiffly, hands clasped, clearly nervous.

After a moment, her eyes lifted just enough to meet mine. She gasped softly and bowed deeper.

Fear, yes, I could sense—but it felt rehearsed.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” she said carefully. “I was merely clearing the path for the noble ones.”

I said nothing. Demir glanced at me, a knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.

“That’s quite all right,” he said smoothly. “But what brings you this far out? I doubt duties are assigned here.”

“Ah—no, my lord,” she replied quickly. “I was only taking a short walk. I’ve finished my tasks for the day. I apologize if that caused any disorder.”

From the very first encounter, she had pretended not to know who I was. I had allowed it, partly out of curiosity, partly for reasons I hadn’t yet examined.

I raised my brow, realizing she would only behave so boldly if no one else was watching.
Yet, In front of others, she performed obedience flawlessly—despite the bruises on her face.

How did someone so small earn injuries like that? Could she had been unfortunate to encounter a brute?

The last time I intervened getting her smashed had not been for her sake. 

Rather, the sight of that gluttonous brute had simply irritated me. I despised commoners who forgot their place.

I studied her quietly, then turned to Demir at his next sprout of words.

“Why don’t you let her tag along?”

Demir’s smile widened slightly, unreadable. “Is that acceptable with you, Young Duke Calvin?”



I apologize for the late update
Never again🫶🏻
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Reborn Again
Reborn Again

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Book Description

Clare has died twice within the walls of the Westwond estate.

In two past lives, she devoted herself to a ruthless Duke whose dangerous obsession was never meant for her. Chasing him cost Clare everything-her dignity, her family, and ultimately, her life.

Now granted a third chance, Clare chooses a different path. She will no longer pursue the Duke or remain bound to Westwond. This time, she intends to live for herself.

But fate no longer follows what she remembers.

The Duke behaves differently and events began to shift. And when Clare attempts to leave the estate, she is unexpectedly stopped.

Denied freedom she never had to fight for before, Clare is forced to confront a truth more frightening than her past lives: fate itself has changed.
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Special 2 . 2

Special 2 . 2

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