---
Volume I: Spring
---
Outside a research facility in the dead of night, there were two men leaving the building.
One man sighed wearily, seemingly exhausted from a hard day's work.
"Agh, I'm so tired. Boss has been giving us hell ever since the outbreak. What time is it?"
The other man, looking a tad more refreshed, checked his phone.
"Hm, if you take a cab, you should get back before midnight."
"Screw that. The cab drivers are charging ten for every mile at this hour. I'm better off walking at this rate."
"There, there. I can give you a ride back. Clark! You coming?"
The two men turned to a third, who was standing on the steps of the entrance. He was fiddling with his pocket with an expression that spoke of annoyance, patting down his pants with an air of defeat hanging from his head.
After a few more seconds, he groaned.
"You guys go ahead. I forgot my phone back in the lab."
The two men shared a look.
The tired one spoke.
"Call us when you get back. And don't forget to be safe."
"Sure thing."
"Have a goodnight!"
"Yeah, you too!"
Clark turned and headed back inside the facility.
He made his way back to the laboratory where his workstation was located.
Switching on the lights, he went over to his desk and searched around the area for his phone.
Where could it be?
The clutter on his table did not help his search.
He spotted his lab coat hanging on a chair. He had left it there when he went to change out of his uniform—
Aha!
Clark grabbed his lab coat and shoved his hand into the pockets, crying out victoriously the moment he got his hand on his phone.
Patting himself mentally for a job well done, the man headed towards the door to switch off all the lights.
As he did so, he noticed that there was a switch that indicated a different laboratory still had all its lights on.
The label under the switch: Laboratory C.
For some, this might mean that someone forgot to switch off the lights, but Clark knew better than to think that.
There was only one person in this facility assigned to Laboratory C who was willing to work overtime without having to be told, and this switch indicated it clearly.
You would think he learned something after passing out last time in the middle of the day...
With a sigh, Clark rounded the corner and made his way over to Laboratory C.
He was right at the entrance of the laboratory when he saw the familiar figure of a researcher hunched over a microscope and muttering intently to himself.
"Neo?"
"Hm?" came the response.
So, Clark was right.
"Aren't you going home?"
"No," the man replied, "The trial vaccine I was working on just finished cultivating. I need to check its reaction to the virus."
At those words, Clark wasn't sure whether to be excited or exasperated.
Doctor Neo Overland.
The man was transferred to the facility during the middle of the pandemic. He was a bit closed-off and hard to approach, but many knew him as some sort of a medical genius.
With a prodigy-like origin story, he became worldwide famous for becoming the youngest medical researcher in history.
Those in the medical fields who specialize in medicine loved him.
He rose to fame after publicizing research papers on the insufficient medical system within all major world powers.
He set the world on fire after exposing the United States of Ameranglo...
So yes. Doctor Overland was certainly a genius.
He was a man ahead of his time.
A modern-day Da Vinci... or something like that. Clark didn't know. He wasn't all that poetic...
Of course, like everyone else, Clark would agree with this statement of the doctor's genius—
—if he hadn't witnessed the idiot almost fainting from hunger!
For a person with so many achievements in his short life, it should have been the first warning sign that the facility was going to deal with a major workaholic.
The doctor was nearly a forty-year-old man, yet he didn't even know when to eat or sleep.
Work! Work! Work!
He was going to work himself to death!
All he knew was work!
Besides that, the doctor only ever spoke to the other researchers if it was a work-related matter.
Clark wouldn't say they were particularly close, either.
They talked, sometimes.
The only reason he and the doctor were even on a first-name basis was due to a night shift he had a few months back.
Clark had made ramen for the two of them when it looked like the other researcher was just going to work the entire night.
He liked to believe that they were somewhat friends, after that. He managed to sit the other man down for a full ten minutes so he could eat properly, after all. That must have counted for something, right?
Clark ended up being the one to make sure that Neo was actually eating during lunch hours.
Occasionally, he would even check in to see if the man had been watered and fed.
Now, however, as he looked at the man staring intently into a petri dish, Clark thought that the genius Doctor Overland was about to keel over and die.
Upon approaching the man's work desk, he saw that the situation was even worse than he initially expected.
The man's lab coat was a rumpled thing, wrinkled and stained from the samples he'd been working on. His hair was messy and disheveled, his pallor pale and waxy. He looked like he hadn't been outside for the last six months and was greatly in need of some sunlight.
"Dude," Clark sucked in a breath, staring into a pair of downturn rust-brown eyes that were dulled with exhaustion.
It was a shame since a lot of people considered the doctor's eyes as one of his most attractive features. They were now lined by dark circles, giving him the appearance of a sick patient.
An attractive sick patient, yes, but still a patient, nonetheless.
"You look like shit."
Clark was very honest in those regards.
The other man raised a brow at this statement, his face stuck firmly with an unimpressed look as he made his retort, "Thank you for your astounding observation, Clark. If you were going to come in here and insult me, then at least make yourself useful and hand me another petri dish from the fridge."
Clark snorted, "Neo, when was the last time you went home?"
The man paused his movement, his expression softening from its offended appearance to that of thoughtfulness as he contemplated the question.
"Hmm... I think... I was home on Sunday..."
He trailed off, looking just as confused as Clark did.
The other man wanted to cover his face.
"Neo, that was a week ago."
Neo frowned, "Oh."
Another disappointed sigh followed and Clark gave the doctor a stern look, "I know you've been working hard, but we can't have you working yourself to death. It's hard enough that we're low on people, but everyone's relying on you to lead us. You need to take better care of yourself and trust the rest of us to do our part. Please."
Clark watched as the doctor averted his gaze, not willing to make eye contact with him as he fiddled with the microscope.
"The world won't stop just because I'm resting. As you said, I'm leading this project. I have to do my part in helping."
"It also won't stop if you're dead," he snapped.
Neo flinched at his words.
Clark's gaze softened when saw this, "Listen, you're doing enough. You're basically carrying the entire research--but, it would be even better if you can take a break and relax. I would suggest going home, but I know you won't listen to me. Everyone is happy to take some of that workload off your hands if it gets too much. We're a team, Neo. At least take a nap."
The man turned his gaze over to the battered sofa across the room, "That's what the couch is for."
This statement was met with more silence.
And then, "Please don't tell me you've been sleeping on the couch."
No answer.
Clark wanted to smack this idiot on the head!
"Goddammit, Neo! Fine. Whatever."
He stormed out the door, not even looking back as he stomped down the hallway and towards the exit.
However, the moment he faced the glass door of the facility, Clark proceeded to make a U-turn and marched back into the laboratories.
Entering his workstation, he opened the mini-fridge he shared between him and his teammates and took out a yogurt drink.
He went back to Laboratory C.
"Here."
He slammed the yogurt drink in front of the microscope.
Neo looked up from his notes and saw the Yakult bottle.
His face grew curious, "What's this?"
"Probiotics," Clark gritted out, "Good for your immunity. Helps you not die. Take it and go to sleep, Neo. I mean it." He shot a look at the couch meaningfully, "If I see your dead body in the morning, I'm donating it to science."
The edge of the other man's lips twitched, indicating amusement at Clark's words. Thankfully, much to Clark's relief, he nodded his head obediently.
"Good," was the gruff response.
Clark left the lab and exited the facility with a huff, shaking his head at the man's sheer stubbornness.
Prodigy, his ass. The full-grown man couldn't even understand the limits of the human body.
With one last look at the building, he sighed and left the premises.
---
Neo sat alone in the lab, pouring all his energy into his research.
In front of him was a petri dish he had been observing, a sample of a cultivated serum swimming inside. To the layman, it looked like a mix of chemicals and egg proteins.
To him, it was a scene of carnage.
His sample had won against the virus.
This was it. His success. His victory.
He'd cracked the code.
Humanity might just be saved.
A rare smile appeared on his face. He quickly jotted down his notes, writing out some of the results that had happened within the petri dish--
A sharp pain shot through his head.
Neo winced.
Huh?
Messaging the side of his temple, the pain subsided down to a point of discomfort.
It was an indication of exhaustion.
How long had he been working?
Looking at the clock on his desk, he saw that it was currently two in the morning.
He had been checking on the growth and immunity of his eighth and final vaccine sample and lost track of time.
Clark would be very upset with him in the morning.
As the headache continued to throb, Neo was reminded of Clark's words.
Maybe he should take a nap. He hadn't slept for a few days.
No one would mind if he just closed his eyes for an hour or two, right?
The couch was starting to look more and more appealing as he began thinking about it...
Finally, mind made up, Neo cleaned off his workstation and stood up.
He instantly regretted it.
A rush of dizziness attacked him from behind. He squinted a little, his sight blurry. Black spots started appearing in his vision, swirling together like a kaleidoscope. The brightly lit laboratory darken little by little. His body swayed, his balance feeling off.
It was a very dissociative feeling.
An out-of-body experience.
Around him, everything was moving slowly, fading into the dim black that edged his vision.
The last thing he remembered was the spotlessly white laboratory floor appearing to be moving closer and closer--before the dull thud of something heavy hit the ground.
All was black.
---
When he opened his eyes to a lavish bedroom, he knew he was back.
Back to the beginning; to the life before his last.
Before he had become Doctor Neo Overland and regretted all the evil deeds of his past, trying to redeem himself of his sins.
It suddenly occurred to him that he was no longer in that strange new modern world.
Neo stared at the ceiling, eyes dim, gazing apathetically into the distance, thinking of nothing and everything all at once.
He had just lost something. He had just gained something. He had had two chances to become something.
It hit him so quickly, he barely had the time to process his emotions.
Thirty-seven years he spent, repenting.
He hadn't done enough.
It was never enough for someone like him... yet...
Here he was.
He couldn't help the tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. They blinded him and skewed his vision, becoming two leaky faucets he had no control over. The rancid feeling souring his nose was an indicator of a breakdown.
He could already feel the waves of emotions unpacking from his mind; memories upon memories he had tried so hard to repress reaching the surface.
They flooded every part of his being and took.
"Sorry..."
Amidst the morning sun and the singing of birds, one could barely hear the sniveling sound of a boy as he cried for those he had left behind.
"Sorry..."
"... I'm sorry..."
He was, once more, Nazareth Everette Odum.
The son of a dead whore and an illegitimate child of the Odum family.
In that lifetime, he was the sinner with blood on his hands and a short life deemed both fruitless and irredeemable.
The path he walked was a lonely trail forged by the bodies he left in his wake. They were all undeserving of their fates but alas, they had stood between him and the brilliance that shined ahead of him.
That person who shined so brightly in that path was who he called his younger half-brother. Neo knew he could never fully achieve the same amount of momentum and respect with those filthy hands of his.
He had committed so many wrongs for that unattainable dream. For that worthless goal that even he knew was a useless endeavor.
He sought for the impossible, and in doing so, he died a death that was deserving for a half-mad criminal.
But he had not drowned in the flames of hellfire when his eyes closed for a final time.
Instead, he had found himself in that modern world.
Reborn as an orphan, abandoned at an orphanage as a baby, and adopted by an elderly couple.
The beginning of his new life was not a reward that someone like him deserved.
The elderly couple lived comfortably, being neither wealthy nor impoverished. They were ordinary, middle-class people who lived in a small home that was just enough for a family of three.
But it was enough.
It was enough to feed him, clothe him, and allow him to go to school. It was enough for the three of them to be happy.
He was loved. He knew he was loved despite the lack of materials and riches he had grown up in, unlike in his last life.
In that new life, he worked hard and studied even harder.
He studied seriously, unlike in his past life, in order to help the elderly couple and the society of that world.
With time, he began to yearn for a chance at forgiveness.
The memories grew older the longer he lived in that world.
More than once he had wondered if his life was a purgatory of a sort. A place for him to repent for his crimes and wicked deeds.
He studied medicine and became a medical researcher. He was helping people every day and giving back what he could to the elderly couple. He was making vaccines and writing brutal research papers to aid in the betterment of society.
He worked himself as hard as he could.
And now he was most likely dead due to exhaustion.
Could a person die of exhaustion?
As a medical researcher, he knew that the answer was yes.
However, Neo was also fully aware that he was a hypocrite who disregarded his own health.
After all, he just died of overwork inside a laboratory all by himself without realizing it. He didn't rest and didn't take care of himself like what his adoptive parents and even his colleagues had occasionally nagged him about.
He should have listened.
What's the use of him if he was dead?
Neo Overland died, leaving behind his elderly parents and that world which desperately needed medical help and vaccines. He left behind millions of people who needed the cure to the virus and abandoned them.
A new type of exhaustion flooded his body now that his bitter tears ran dry and the snot in his nose stopped leaking. He was tired of this. Very, very tired.
He could only lay on his bed like a salted fish.
"Screw that." Or not.
If there was one aspect of himself that followed him in all two lifetimes, Neo believed it was his determination to do anything to achieve what he wanted.
On one hand, he had lived a life trying and failing, but still relentlessly pushing himself to succeed. Of course, his goals weren't exactly good, and the way to reaching those goals resulted in heavy bloodshed and a terrible ending.
On the other hand, he had become a medical researcher who died because he was a workaholic trying to cure a deadly virus.
Both scenarios were not all that good, considering he had died in both lifetimes.
You would think he had learned something out of all that...
Neo crawled out of bed and went to stand in front of his dressing mirror.
The reflection that stared back at him belonged to a sixteen-year-old boy.
He took a quick glance out the window. He saw the birds, the trees, and the flowers in full bloom.
It was spring—the beginning of his second year in senior high, approximately two years before the day he died.
The pale youth in the mirror had the same vermillion eyes he once despised; the same long, black hair that reached the middle of his back, tangled in knots and looking like a mop.
Neo had grown out his hair and worn it down so he could appear similar to his father, the Duke of Odum. Unfortunately, instead of looking cool and dignified, he appeared more like a wraith from hell since he never took the time to maintain the wild mane.
As for his eyes...
A feeling of melancholy tugged at his chest.
They were the only features he gained from his mother, a whore his father had slept with during a drunken exploit into the Red Light District in his youth.
Those eyes turned him into the black sheep of the Odum family. From the Duke to his two younger siblings, all of them had sapphire blue eyes that were incomparable to any other shades of blue.
Neo had desired those blue eyes in the past and hated those who had eyes that were similar.
However...
He smiled fondly at his reflection.
Perhaps he should bring some flowers to his mummy's grave this lifetime. She might appreciate it.
His mummy, Alouysia Webbers, was a charming woman--one of the most beautiful and talented prostitutes of the Red Light District.
She was a beauty priced for only those that could pay in gold.
However, despite a night of passion, Nazareth's father was drunk and had no memories besides the loss of his virginity.
Coincidentally, Alouysia fell pregnant and decided to keep the child because she wanted something to call her own.
These two factors resulted in the Duke having no knowledge of a bastard child.
When Alouysia died of illness, rumors sprung up of a black-haired whoreson wandering the streets of the Red Light District.
It was by sheer coincidence that the Duke decided to investigate the matter and discovered he had an unknown bastard child living in a brothel house.
Nazareth was taken to the Duke's Household after that and found that the Duke had already married.
But what really set off the trigger for the future events to come was the meeting between Nazareth and his two younger half-siblings.
Or more specifically, his younger half-brother.
The heir of the Odum Household.
Most of Neo's past memories were full of envy and resentment for this brother of his.
Shining like the sun.
The perfect heir of the Duke.
His little brother.
With these types of thoughts toward the boy, Nazareth grew up to be a wicked and scheming villain.
He wasn't sure why he was the way he was.
Perhaps he hated the Duke for not coming for his mother and letting her die. Perhaps he simply hated the fact that he was a whore's son and a bastard child.
Neo couldn't remember the reason for his hatred, but one thing was for sure. What he most desired was to wage havoc and chaos on the nobility, starting from the Odum Family.
It was the nobles and aristocrats who let the people in the slums starve and suffer. They were the reason why his mother had died, why children have to suffer the cruel streets of the desolated red-light districts and back alleys... why they live in hell while those more fortunate have the luxury to bathe in riches and eat warm meals and drink clean water.
And Nazareth, seeing a little boy no more than a year younger than he, standing in the center of the Duke's world—his successor, his beloved son, the talented second Young Master of the Odum Family, a child who has never seen someone fight for scraps—turned Nazareth cruel.
Nazareth was a person who was no longer human. The more he continued on his path of anger and spite, the more everyone resented him and wished for him to die. He harmed people and destroyed lives during that one-sided rivalry he held between him and his brother.
Feared and hated, he grew to be the crazy scummy troublemaker who knew nothing besides plotting against those he should not have.
Which ultimately led to his downfall.
There was a young commoner who came to the Noble Academy during Nazareth's third year of senior high. He was transferred into the second year with his younger brother.
This commoner was the trigger of his demise.
A timid but hard-working youth. That was what Neo thought when he remembered him. He tormented the boy so much because... by hurting him, he was able to harm his brother.
Nazareth grew envious of this boy.
A commoner, not even a half-blooded noble, yet, he gained admiration and respect from all those around him.
His brother and his friends loved him. His sister and her friends adored him.
Nazareth wanted him dead.
Thankfully, the boy did not die. Nazareth was caught, in the end.
Neo recalled that night. It had been raining heavily--one last winter storm before spring could bloom its parting buds.
He had taken the boy from the academy dorms and attempted to toss him down a steep cliff into the roaring waters.
It had been the night before his graduation. Nazareth was leaving the academy soon.
Beyond those shiny gates were people waiting for him. He had consequences that he needed to face for all that he had done.
So, he was desperate to kill the commoner.
To bring him down with him.
It was a sword that saved the boy.
Specifically, it was his brother's sword, with the emblem of the Odum family engraved into its handle, that pierced Nazareth's chest and ultimately saved the commoner boy's life.
And at that moment, when Nazareth was able to see a glimpse of his younger brother's face, it was not the face of a boy he tormented, but the face of a hardened youth facing down a demon.
It was that moment that Nazareth realized what he had become in those ten years of living in the Duke's Household.
His brother and his friends all looked at him as if they finally managed to exterminate a great evil.
Nazareth only thought, besides realizing how hated he was, had been that his mummy would be disappointed in him.
The commoner boy was saved.
Nazareth was left to bleed out.
In the cold stormy night, he bled slowly in a pool of blood. He had no more tears to shed as he died, the rain imitating the action perfectly.
He regrets it. He really regrets it.
Guilt had not set in until his final moments.
And when he finally drew his last breath, all he saw was light.
And then, he became Neo.
Neo sighed and willed his memories back into its little box.
He opened his drawers and found a pair of scissors.
He stared at them for a long moment and then back at his reflection.
Oh yeah, he definitely looked like a wraith.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
He was Neo.
Nazareth was dead.
Sorry, mummy, but your taste in names was a little too interesting if I'm being honest.
Locks of black hair were cut one by one with neat precision.
They landed on the floor like a black whirlpool, becoming bigger and bigger as Neo cut them down with no mercy.
There was little hesitation as he tried to figure out how short he can cut before he's bald.
In the quiet bedroom, the only noise consisted of the snipping of the scissors.
Neo chopped and chopped until he was satisfied.
Until he could look decent in his own eyes.
Until he looked less like Nazareth and more like himself.
A quarter of an hour later, he finally put down the scissors.
He stared at the mirror.
What looked back was a neat and clean-looking youth.
All in all, it was a very satisfying reflection to look at.
---
Step 1. After dying in your second life, be prepared to wake up in the body of your past life whom everybody hates.
---
This chapter is brought to you by Stay With Me by CHANYEOL and Punch.
Edited by: bafflinghaze
Hello, everyone! This is my first original story and I'm really excited!
I made a playlist for this story on Spotify because I'm bored. If any of you are interested, the link is in my profile description. There's a lot of Korean songs, so be warned. I don't like listening to English songs when I write because I'll want to sing along and lose concentration. The songs follow the order of the chapters. With each update, I will add a new song to correlate with the chapter.
I hope you guys can check it out!
(EDIT: Please ask permission to translate. If you see this story on another site other than Webnovel or Chrysanthemum Garden, it is likely stolen.)
-Clowd