CHAPTER 50: IDENTITY

In this world, the reason technical artifacts were priceless was that they granted their users permanent power, making them the most expensive items one could purchase; a technique acquisition item.

But what about those who didn’t want to spend that much money, or simply couldn’t afford it?

That’s where magic scrolls came in to solve the problem. Using magic scrolls didn’t provide permanent effects, but they could grant the user power for a short duration.

As one might expect, these magic scrolls were valued based on their duration of effect and the power they bestowed. Legends spoke of some mythical scrolls that lasted a full year, but of course, that was just a myth, and most people didn’t believe it.

In reality, the longest-lasting scrolls retained their effects for no more than a week, and their prices were far from cheap. But for someone with no techniques at all and insufficient funds, having access to a power like wielding a fireball for even a week could be incredibly useful.

Anyway. Right now, I was in an underground market just south of the city of Argenholt. As the name implied, everything sold here was illegal.

So, was I here as a count of the Empire to seize this market and dispense justice? Of course not.

There was something I needed here, something I’d been avoiding since arriving in this world. No, I hadn’t come for something to smoke. Speaking of smoking, I’d heard they sold some high-quality cigars here. Maybe I should stop by a cigar shop sometime.

What I really wanted was a scroll. Actually, it was something quite repulsive or secretive, often requested by mages involved in dark dealings or those possessing Black Magic Techniques.

And that thing was a scroll that allowed one to obtain or view the memories of a body.

This scroll was typically used to learn the memories of others, or sometimes by people who had lost their own memories.

I, however, intended to use it to gain the memories of the previous owner of the body I now inhabited. But why now? If I knew such a scroll existed, why hadn’t I used one before?

Because I was afraid.

In truth, I’m still terrified out of my mind.

In my previous life, I’d read tons of different reincarnation novels, featuring dozens of protagonists who, like me, reincarnated into someone else’s body. Almost every time, they gained the previous owner’s memories but somehow retained their own personality.

Of course, in some novels, the reincarnated soul merged with the original owner’s memories, personality, and thoughts. But that scenario frightened me. After all, once merged, would I still be me?

Isn’t our personality shaped by our memories, and thus by our experiences?

If I accepted all the memories of this body’s owner... who would I be from that point on?

Me?

Or Leonardo Argenholt?

Perhaps both.

Perhaps neither.

That’s why I’d been avoiding it. That’s why I’d kept putting it off. Every morning when I woke up, I’d tell myself, "Not today."

But now I had nowhere left to run. Because surviving in this world required more than just my own knowledge. This body had enemies, secrets, and past connections. And right now, I needed those connections.

Yes, the notes I’d obtained from Leonardo’s library had given me a lot of information, but it wasn’t enough anymore. I was about to face the men Leonardo had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with for years, and I needed them now. No, to win this war, I was desperate for them.

I took a deep breath. The damp air of the underground market filled my lungs. The sharp scents of rotting wood, old fabrics, and blood burned the nostrils of everyone who came here. But the heaviest thing in my nose was the acrid taste of fear.

The elderly vendor behind the stall was watching me carefully. His eyes were cloudy, but his gaze was as sharp as a knife. Not a single muscle twitched on his face. It was as if he could read my thoughts.

"What you’re looking for isn’t an ordinary scroll," he said. There was no persuasion in his voice, no false friendliness. Just bare truth. "Those who seek such a scroll are either utterly desperate... or utterly mad."

I smiled without breaking eye contact.

"You’re in luck, then. I’m both."

The vendor looked at me with a faint twitch at the corner of his cracked lips. Silence settled for a moment. Then he reached under his table and pulled out an old box. Its surface was made of dark brown leather verging on black.

Thin red lines stretched across the leather like blood seeping from cracks left by time. But upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t blood. Just faded, seal pigments cracking and flaking away.

So, it wasn’t as terrifying an object as described. Yet, it still carried an aura of ill omen. I was certain even a simple mage would feel uneasy upon seeing this scroll.

The vendor placed the box on the table.

"Here’s what you want," he said.

When the lid opened, a neatly rolled scroll emerged from inside. It looked plain; no gold embroidery, no dazzling magical seals. From the outside, it was indistinguishable from an ordinary piece of paper. But when I touched its surface carefully, a subtle shiver ran through my fingers.

Yes... it was real. This thing was powerful enough to reveal memories. The vendor’s voice interrupted my thoughts:

"It’s single-use. And remember... not everyone is strong enough to bear what they see."

I stayed silent for a moment. My eyes were locked on the scroll. I picked it up, feeling its weight. It wasn’t as light as normal paper; it was as if someone’s entire past had been loaded onto my shoulders.

"What will happen to me after I use this?"

I felt like I was asking myself rather than the vendor, but he answered anyway.

"It depends on whose memories you’re viewing. There was a man... a wealthy one. He wanted this scroll and used it to learn the memories of his dead daughter, whom he’d brought along. When he woke up, he was like a madman, and I heard he died a few months ago. Poor fool, who knows what he saw."

The vendor’s story sent chills down my spine. Deep inside, a small voice whispered, "You can still back out." But it was too faint... because I’d already made my decision.

My hands trembled as I gripped the scroll. It felt like I was holding something made of ice, its coldness seeping into my palms. The vendor watched me without blinking; to him, I was no longer just a customer, but a man walking willingly to his grave.

"Name your price." My voice came out steadier than I’d expected.

The old man tilted his head with a barely perceptible smile on his lips. I pulled a pouch from my pocket and set it on the table. The clink of gold coins mingled with the market’s hum. The vendor didn’t even open it, as if he didn’t need to check its value.

"This should be enough, right?"

As I withdrew my hand, I pressed the scroll to my chest. The pouch still sat on the table; the vendor leisurely pulled the coins aside with his hand. Then he leaned slightly toward me.

"If you lose your mind," he said in a low but clear voice, "don’t come back to this market. We don’t like madmen."

His words sounded more like a law than a threat. Like the closing sentence of our agreement.

"Nah... Mad Men was a masterpiece."I said, and backed away under the vendor’s strange glances.

I stepped back into the narrow corridors of the underground market. It was dim; the lights from hanging lanterns flickered, and shadows wedged between the stone walls seemed to stare at me. The crowd’s murmur echoed in my ears, but I heard my own breathing more clearly. Fast, irregular, laced with fear.

As I tucked the scroll into the inner pocket of my robe, my hand trembled involuntarily. I knew this piece of paper would change my fate. Either I’d come to know myself better, growing stronger after absorbing Leonardo’s past... or my mind would shatter under the weight of another man’s memories.

Would it be me? Him? Or someone entirely different?

The question echoed ominously in the corners of my mind.

As I approached the market exit, I climbed the damp stone stairs upward. Above, the night sky greeted me. The moon cast a pale light through the clouds. On the streets, the footsteps of people entering and leaving the illegal market echoed, but no one looked too closely at anyone else. Here, everyone carried their own sins on their back.

I paused for a moment. My hand went to my pocket, feeling the scroll’s hardness at my fingertips. The fear inside me sat like a heavy stone in the center of my chest. But I had no other choice.

I couldn’t turn back now.

I would use this scroll tomorrow.

I took a deep breath. Then I quickened my steps.

I’d made my decision.

And the price of that decision might well be... my identity.