Why was Rein exiled to the borderlands? Even he couldn’t quite pin it down, though he’d picked up traces of clues over time.

The likeliest reason was factional strife within the Magic Council.

Constellation Magic had always been controversial since its inception. This arcane discipline relied on celestial calculations to predict the future—a practice demanding immense Arcane Power, advanced mathematics, astral knowledge, and sheer luck. After all, fate was never certain. Many Council members argued it belonged outside true magic, lumped with mysticism instead.

But the final blow came when certain Constellation Mages, lacking real skill, charmed the king with honeyed words to gain wealth and power.

Rein knew his own prophecies were earned through genuine talent. His pride as a prodigy forbade groveling for favor. Yet he became a target anyway—even as a Mage deeply versed in Arcane Magic.

That’s how the frame-up and exile began. Mages were strategic national assets; exile was near-unthinkable. Rein refused to believe no one had stabbed him in the back.

"So your revenge is aimed at those who framed you?"

"Something like that… heh…"

Rein chuckled awkwardly, then fixed his gaze on Nona. "What exactly did you enhance in my Constellation Magic?"

"A simple thing: all your offensive spells can sever others’ destinies."

"Sever destinies?"

"Against anyone with weaker Mental Force, you’ll see a thread—a physical manifestation of their fate. Strike that thread with magic, and you’ll sever their destiny. Their purpose in existence ends prematurely. They’ll still live on, but… like zombies."

"Sounds powerful. But the cost can’t just be having stronger Mental Force, right?"

"Of course not. Every severed destiny must be carried to its end by someone. That someone is you."

"What? Carry a destiny? Must I fulfill their life’s purpose?"

"No. Each time you sever a thread, a new branch grows on your own fate—possibly from the future, possibly the past. Understand?"

"Like… inherited memories?"

"Close, but not quite."

"Call it memories then. Anything else I should know?"

"Let me think… Nothing else comes to mind. Time to send you back to the mortal realm. Remember: find my successor and protect her. Understood?"

"Understood!"

A violent wave of dizziness forced Rein’s eyes shut. He felt his back hit solid ground.

Opening his eyes, he saw a familiar, dilapidated roof riddled with holes. Snowflakes drifted through the gaps, piling tiny mounds on the floor and table. This was his temporary shelter in Kolcha—barely better than the slums, courtesy of the so-called mayor.

"…Not a dream?"

Rein sat up, tightening his oversized clothes. The trousers dragged on the floor, hindering his steps. He peeled off the tattered fabric.

Only then did he realize his frame was surprisingly tall and sturdy—decent even among mercenaries. Yet it changed nothing. Nearly fifty, never in love… a pang of old sorrow surfaced.

"Wait…"

As he adjusted his shirt into a makeshift dress, a strange absence struck him. He hadn’t noticed it before undressing. He yanked the fabric up.

"Gone…"

That decades-unused appendage—his useless yet loyal companion through lonely years, his vital proof of manhood—was simply gone.

*"I will strip you of everything…"*

Nona’s words echoed. Now he understood "everything" included his original gender.

"I’m… a girl now?"

After the initial shock and a trace of panic, Rein felt oddly calm. His goals remained: protect Nona’s successor and seek revenge. And revenge demanded anonymity. In this era, an unremarkable girl drew the least attention—unless exceptionally beautiful.

Centuries had passed since matriarchal kingdoms fell, yet kings still suppressed women. Peasant girls often couldn’t even attend school.

*Or maybe it’s just poverty,* he mused. *Education burns coin.*

With so few women studying magic, a female Mage would stand out—

Damn it!

"First things first: learn to live as a girl…"

He lowered his shirt and padded barefoot to the washbasin beside the cold stove. Snow had settled in the hearth; the basin water was solid ice. No reflection visible.

"Time to test my magic. See if my talent survived."

*Thud thud thud!*

A frantic knocking shattered the silence at the wooden door.

Rein froze mid-step.

*Who am I? Rein Hart. Whose house is this? Graice Rhode’s. What if the knocker finds a little girl in Graice’s room? They’ll think lolicon or pedophile. Either way, Graice’s name is ruined—even dead, he deserves dignity.*

He scrambled onto the bed, cracked the window, and checked outside. Empty. He swung his legs over—

Misjudging the height, he plunged headfirst into the snowdrift.

"Graice! Where the hell are you?!"

The door splintered under the mayor’s furious kicks.

"That was close… so cold—"