I am Everiel Solgren. I died at the age of fourteen along with the fall of my lineage, in the hands of the emperor. “I’m weally…” I thought I was dead. But when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on my ninth birthday nine years ago. “Am I seriously five years old now?” Momentary confusion amidst the inexplicable regression. If things go as planned, Solgren will perish once again, and so will I. To avoid a dreadful fate, the only way is to bolster my father’s, Duke Herwin Solgren’s, influence to resist against the emperor. Yeah. If Dad protects me, I’ll be fine! That’s all there is to it… except for one little problem. “Cough, cough…!” My dad is too frail. What should I do? * * * Herwin silently drew his sword. The blood dripping from the blade belonged to the assassins scattered in the corridor. “Sloppy.” “I suppose this will suffice.” As rumored, Herwin was ‘known’ to be frail. A sickly Northern duke so weak he couldn’t even leave his bed, let alone his chamber. But contrary to gossip, Herwin was strong. Overwhelmingly so, capable of facing multiple assailants alone without breaking a sweat. “Clean it up without a fuss. Make sure my child doesn’t wake up.”