Zale regained consciousness, confused and disoriented.
Just a moment ago, an entity calling itself the System had appeared before him and forced him into a contract.
Now, he stood in a whole new world, his heart pounding with excitement and shock.
The power to traverse space and rewind time was incomprehensible to a mortal like him.
A flicker of desire appeared in his eyes.
At the same time, he grew more vigilant toward the System—a being that could take his life with a single thought.
He did not dare reveal anything unusual.
Suppressing his thoughts, Zale quickly assessed his surroundings.
A narrow path led to a small bamboo house.
He looked down.
A hoe rested in his hand. His shoes were old and muddy. He wore gray pants stained with soil and a simple black shirt.
After confirming he was alone, he crouched down to receive the memories.
"System. Transfer the memories."
"Good."
A cold, emotionless voice responded. It wasn't robotic, as one might expect—yet it felt inhuman.
The System detected its host's wariness but chose to ignore it.
As long as the host was capable of fulfilling the agreement, everything else was irrelevant.
A torrent of memories flooded his mind, making him groan in discomfort.
The original owner had the same name as him: Zale Johnson.
This world resembled the late 1900s of his previous life.
The original Zale lived in a small village called Lumima. As the middle child, with an older brother and a younger one, he was often neglected by his parents.
Even his marriage had been arranged solely to preserve their reputation.
At 190 cm tall, handsome, and hardworking, it hadn't been difficult for Zale to find a wife.
Zale's expression darkened as he absorbed the memories.
He had to stop this marriage—no matter what.
All his misery had stemmed from his marriage to Mira. This time, he would cut it off before it could even begin.
Inside the house, two women were talking animatedly.
"…You know the old carpenter's daughter, Mira, right? She's a good girl—beautiful and hardworking…"
"Mom, can we talk for a minute?"
He hastily interrupted before the matchmaker could continue.
Amelia, his mother, turned to him with dissatisfaction.
"You are already so old. How can you still be so unstable? Don't you see I have a guest?"
Zale knew how biased his parents were, so he didn't care about her attitude.
He would be moving out soon anyway.
Right now, the most important thing was to stop this marriage.
"Mom, it's very important. It won't take long."
After glaring at him, she politely asked the matchmaker to wait and followed him inside.
"Mom, I don't want to get married right now. I'm not mature enough to start a family."
Amelia looked at him intently, her expression turning serious.
"Are you sure? Don't complain later that we favor your brothers."
Zale sneered inwardly at how easily she agreed, but his face remained calm, maintaining the original owner's silent and reserved demeanor.
"I'm sure. And I won't blame you. Please refuse the marriage on my behalf."
Watching his mother leave, Zale let out a sigh of relief.
He refused to repeat the same tragedy.
This wasn't a marriage. It was bringing home an enemy.
That night, Zale slept uneasily.
The dim light of the night bulb cast shadows over his furrowed brows and sweat-soaked forehead.
In his dreams, he relived his past life.
In that life, he had agreed to the marriage.
The reputation that Mira was beautiful, gentle, and hardworking had mostly been a lie.
She could share prosperity—but not hardship.
Before the marriage, Zale promised to protect his small family and swore never to favor one child over the others.
He didn't want his children to suffer the same unfair treatment he had.
Yet, his wife wasn't cooperative. She was a lazy, gluttonous, and pessimistic person.
She adored the twins, pouring all her love into them.
Meanwhile, Zale would often return home to find his eldest son huddled in a corner, pitiful—like a fatherless child.
The heavy workload and unhappy marriage drained him both physically and mentally.
Eventually, he filed for divorce, despite persuasion from friends and family.
But the very next day…
Aden went missing on his way home from school.
Zale had never suspected Mira.
No matter how much she disliked the child, Aden was still her son.
Surely… it couldn't have gone that far. Right?
Even in a modern world with advanced surveillance, many cases remained unsolved.
Even after everyone else gave up—including the authorities—Zale continued searching.
For an entire year.
He spent countless nights outside, enduring cold winds and mosquitoes, until his savings were nearly gone.
But he couldn't abandon his remaining children.
Still, every Sunday—and whenever he had even a moment—he searched, hoping for a miracle.
The twins grew up. Graduation. Marriage. A house.
By his mid-forties, Zale's hunched back, wrinkled skin, and calloused hands were proof of his sacrifices.
But when had his children begun to hate him?
Or had they simply hidden it so well that he never noticed?
His son's voice, filled with resentment, echoed:
"Dad, you only ever loved our older brother. Mom was always there for us."
"Do you know how much she cried because of you? You seemed honest in front of others—but to us, you were a hypocrite."
His daughter was no gentler:
"We never wanted good clothes or delicious food. We wanted you."
"Do you know how jealous I was when other fathers took their children out—to school, to parks, to eat?
You only cared about money. Even after everything Mom did, you never noticed us."
The accusations struck him like blows.
Dizzy, he fell back into a chair.
Not one of them looked at him.
In the village, people often saw an old, slightly deranged man wandering around, muttering about his lost son.
One day, as the somewhat deranged Zale wandered in the street, he saw a beggar—legless and blind in one eye.
He hugged the beggar tightly, insisting that he was his child.