Morning arrived quietly over the mountains of Himavat.
Golden sunlight spilled across snow-covered peaks before descending into the enormous valley below.
At the center of that valley stood an estate known throughout the Eastern Federation.
Surya-Jade Estate.
It was neither completely Bharatiya nor completely Huaxian.
The western section carried the unmistakable influence of ancient Bharatiya architecture—stone courtyards, carved pillars, open gardens and halls decorated with symbols of the sun.
The eastern section was different.
Curved roofs overlooked tranquil ponds.
Jade-colored ornaments hung beneath wooden pavilions, while ancient Huaxian calligraphy decorated several corridors.
Connecting the two stood the enormous Hall of Union.
It had been built generations ago.
Not to commemorate a conquest.
But an alliance.
The Vardhans.
The Lis.
Two ancient military houses that had once competed across different civilizations before eventually becoming comrades during the wars that preceded the formation of the Eastern Federation.
They had never truly merged.
House Vardhan remained House Vardhan.
House Li remained House Li.
But generations of friendship, blood, military cooperation and marriage had created something outsiders had gradually begun calling— the Vardhan-Li Alliance.
And Surya-Jade Estate had become its greatest symbol.
It was here that Krishna opened his eyes to his first morning outside the hospital.
Or—
Li Yichen.
Both names belonged to him now.
Krishna stood before a mirror.
Twelve years old.
Black hair.
Clear eyes.
A face that still retained the softness of childhood.
He raised his hand.
The boy inside the mirror did the same.
Even after several days, there were moments when everything felt unreal.
In another world, he had lived an ordinary life.
He had dreamed.
Failed.
Regretted.
Died.
Then he had asked God one question.
Why couldn’t my life become what I wanted?
And somehow that question had brought him here.
A second life.
A new family.
Two systems.
Krishna looked at his reflection for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
“Krishna Vardhan.”
His pronunciation naturally carried the familiarity of his inherited memories.
Then—
“Li Yichen.”
That felt equally natural.
His mother preferred Yichen.
His maternal relatives almost exclusively used it.
His father’s family generally called him Krishna.
His siblings switched between the two whenever they felt like it.
And legally?
Both were him.
The Eastern Federation recognized both names on the same citizen registry.
Krishna had initially found it strange.
Now—
He rather liked it.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
His eldest sister entered.
“Breakfast.”
Krishna turned.
“I know.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Then why are you still standing here?”
“I was thinking.”
“At twelve?”
Krishna stared at her.
“Is thinking prohibited before eighteen?”
A faint smile appeared on her face.
“Good.”
She turned.
“At least the accident didn’t damage your tongue.”
Krishna’s lips twitched.
His eldest sister walked away.
He followed.
Breakfast was anything but peaceful.
“Gege, give it back!”
“I didn’t take anything!”
“You did!”
“Why would I want your—”
“Both of you.”
The youngest two immediately became silent when their eldest sister spoke.
Krishna watched them.
His younger brother.
His younger sister.
Across from them sat his second elder sister, clearly enjoying the chaos.
Their mother was speaking to a household attendant.
Their father sat at the head of the table reading a military report.
For several moments, Krishna simply observed.
In the hospital, everything had happened too quickly.
Fear.
Confusion.
Memories.
Systems.
A different world.
He hadn’t really allowed himself to understand what his second life meant.
Now he did.
These people loved the boy whose body he had inherited.
That realization had bothered him.
Was he stealing someone’s place?
Was their affection truly meant for him?
But the memories inside him weren’t simply information.
When his mother smiled, something inside him naturally relaxed.
When his younger sister cried, he instinctively wanted to comfort her.
When his second sister teased him, irritation appeared before he could consciously manufacture it.
The body remembered them.
Perhaps something deeper did too.
Krishna lowered his eyes.
God had given him another life.
He didn’t know why the original Krishna had been destined to leave.
But he knew one thing.
He would not treat this family as convenient background characters in his second chance.
If he had accepted Krishna Vardhan’s life— then he would accept Krishna Vardhan’s responsibilities as well.
His father suddenly spoke.
“Krishna.”
He looked up.
“Yes, Father?”
The newspaper lowered slightly.
“You return to your studies next week.”
His mother immediately frowned.
“He just recovered.”
“The doctors cleared him.”
“He suffered a serious injury.”
“And keeping him locked inside the mansion won’t strengthen him.”
Their eyes met.
Krishna immediately understood something.
This argument definitely existed before I arrived.
His second sister quietly continued eating.
His younger brother looked fascinated.
The youngest leaned toward Krishna.
“Are they going to fight?”
Krishna whispered,
“Eat.”
“But—”
“Eat.”
She obediently returned to her food.
His father looked toward him.
“What do you think?”
The table became quieter.
Krishna could have chosen his mother’s protection.
Instead he answered,
“I’ll return.”
His mother looked at him.
“Yichen.”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“You nearly—”
Her voice stopped.
Krishna smiled.
“I know.”
He didn’t joke.
Didn’t dismiss her concern.
“I’ll be careful.”
Something in his tone softened her expression.
His father watched silently.
Then gave one small nod.
“Good.”
It wasn’t praise.
Not exactly.
But Krishna understood.
For some reason, that single nod felt satisfying.
After breakfast, Krishna entered the family library.
Calling it a library was almost insulting.
It occupied several floors.
Books stood beside interactive archives and holographic historical records.
Krishna stopped before the central terminal.
If this was going to be his world— he needed to understand it.
“Display global political map.”
A holographic Earth appeared.
Krishna folded his arms.
The year was—
2010.
That alone was astonishing.
The Earth he remembered and this Earth had reached 2010 through completely different histories.
He enlarged Asia.
The enormous territory of the Eastern Federation dominated much of the continent.
It wasn’t a single homogeneous nation.
It was a federal civilization composed of multiple constituent republics, autonomous territories and historical cultural regions.
The Bharata Republic occupied much of the civilization he remembered as India.
The Huaxia Republic represented the central Chinese civilization.
Other constituent regions stretched east and west.
And nestled among the Himalayan mountains was—
Himavat.
Krishna enlarged it.
A relatively small territory.
Yet extraordinarily important.
Its location made it a strategic bridge between Bharata and Huaxia.
Military commands.
Research centers.
Federal institutions.
Ancient monasteries.
Elite academies.
And estates belonging to some of the Federation’s oldest families.
Including this one.
“Surya-Jade Estate.”
A marker appeared.
Krishna leaned closer.
“So this is home.”
Home.
He paused after saying the word.
Strangely— it no longer sounded wrong.
He continued researching.
The Vardhans originated in Bharata.
An ancient military lineage.
Generals.
Strategists.
Commanders.
Defense ministers.
Soldiers.
Generation after generation.
The Lis had equally deep roots in Huaxia.
Military strategy.
Intelligence.
Logistics.
Political administration.
Technology.
The two families had once been rivals.
Then came war.
Survival demanded cooperation.
Cooperation created respect.
Respect created friendship.
And friendship eventually became blood.
Krishna found an old photograph.
Two men stood together.
One wore an old Vardhan military uniform.
The other belonged to House Li.
Both were covered in dirt.
Both looked exhausted.
And both were smiling.
Below it:
FOUNDERS OF THE VARDHAN-LI MILITARY ACCORD.
Krishna stared for a while.
“So that’s how it started.”
Now he understood why his father’s friendship with people outside the Supreme Families wasn’t considered strange either.
The Vardhans respected service more than wealth.
That principle had survived generations.
Krishna closed the archive.
Then opened another.
There was something he was far more curious about.
Entertainment.
His eyes sharpened.
“Let’s see how different you really are.”
Three hours passed.
Krishna became increasingly astonished.
Hollywood existed.
But it wasn’t his Hollywood.
Several studios sounded familiar.
Others didn’t exist in his memories.
Actors he remembered were missing.
Some existed but had completely different careers.
Movies that should have dominated box offices had never been created.
Certain famous stories didn’t exist at all.
Others existed in distorted forms.
Bollywood— or rather, the enormous Bharatiya entertainment industry— was even stranger.
Some traditions were familiar.
Many legendary films were missing.
Famous songs had never been composed.
Actors he remembered either didn’t exist or were unknown.
Krishna searched faster.
Then Huaxian cinema.
Television.
Music.
Korean entertainment.
Japanese animation.
Western television.
Literature.
The more he searched, the quieter he became.
This world wasn’t culturally empty.
Far from it.
It possessed masterpieces of its own.
Krishna discovered films he had never seen.
Songs his old world had never produced.
Actors of astonishing ability who had never existed in his memories.
He wasn’t standing in a culturally inferior world.
He was standing in a different one.
That distinction mattered.
Krishna smiled.
“Good.”
He didn’t want to simply plagiarize his previous Earth and pretend he was a genius.
That would become boring.
But his memories still represented an extraordinary treasure.
Stories.
Performance techniques.
Music.
Ideas.
Characters.
Genres.
And above all— perspective.
Then something appeared before his eyes.
[Ding!]
A translucent screen materialized.
[God-Level Acting System detects Host investigating entertainment industry.]
Krishna leaned backward.
“So you’ve finally decided to speak?”
[Host possesses no meaningful acting ability.]
His eyebrow twitched.
“…You could’ve just said hello.”
[Assessment remains unchanged.]
Krishna stared at the screen.
Then laughed.
“I think we’re going to have problems.”
Another interface appeared.
[Heaven-Defying System synchronization: 12%]
That system was different.
Far broader.
Since awakening, Krishna had noticed changes.
His memory had become frighteningly clear.
His comprehension had improved.
Things that once required hours could now be understood within minutes.
His original body had already been considered exceptionally intelligent.
The Vardhan and Li families had spared no resources in educating their children.
But the Heaven-Defying System was pushing that natural intelligence beyond ordinary boundaries.
Krishna didn’t suddenly know everything.
He still needed to read.
Still needed to learn.
Still needed experience.
The difference was— he learned terrifyingly fast.
Krishna looked again at the entertainment records.
Acting.
His old dream.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
He could pursue it.
Not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But this time— he actually had the opportunity.
A smile appeared.
Then—
“Yichen?”
Krishna froze.
That voice wasn’t one of his siblings.
He turned.
A girl stood at the library entrance.
Around his age.
She wore ordinary clothes that looked almost strangely simple inside Surya-Jade Estate.
Her features carried the distinctive beauty of the western regions of the Federation, though childhood softness still remained in her face.
She stared at him.
Krishna’s inherited memories reacted immediately.
Dilraba Dilmurat.
His childhood friend.
Or, according to virtually everyone in both families— his childhood sweetheart.
Krishna’s expression became complicated.
Dilraba narrowed her eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve forgotten me.”
“…”
Dangerous question.
Krishna smiled.
“I hit my head, remember?”
Her expression immediately changed.
She walked closer.
“Does it still hurt?”
The genuine concern in her voice caught him off guard.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She inspected him suspiciously.
Then suddenly tapped his forehead.
“Ow!”
Krishna covered it.
“What was that for?”
“If it hurt, you’re lying.”
“That’s not how medicine works!”
“It worked.”
Krishna stared at her.
She smiled triumphantly.
For some reason— he laughed.
His memories supplied more information.
Dilraba’s family wasn’t wealthy.
They weren’t aristocrats.
They weren’t members of any Supreme Family.
Her father was a nationally respected opera performer.
A man who had devoted decades to traditional performance.
Years ago, Krishna’s father had met him under circumstances completely unrelated to wealth or politics.
The two men became close friends.
Not allies.
Not business partners.
Friends.
That friendship brought their children together.
Krishna and Dilraba had known each other since they were little.
She walked beside him without bowing.
Argued with him without fear.
Stole food from his plate.
Called him Yichen when she wanted something.
And apparently—
“Why are you researching actors?”
Krishna immediately closed one window.
Dilraba’s eyes widened.
“Oh?”
“Don’t.”
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You closed it!”
“Privacy.”
She leaned around him.
Krishna moved the screen.
Her smile became increasingly mischievous.
“Yichen…”
“No.”
“Are you secretly interested in acting?”
Krishna paused.
Dilraba also stopped.
For a second, their eyes met.
He could easily deny it.
Instead—
“Maybe.”
She blinked.
Krishna looked toward the enormous entertainment database.
“Do you think acting is strange?”
Her expression became unexpectedly serious.
“My father acts.”
“Opera.”
“Acting is acting.”
Krishna considered that.
Dilraba sat beside him.
“When Baba performs, everyone becomes quiet.”
Her voice carried unmistakable pride.
“Sometimes there are thousands of people watching him, but nobody speaks.”
“Why?”
“Because for those few hours, they forget he’s my father.”
She smiled.
“They believe he’s someone else.”
Krishna became silent.
That— was exactly what he had loved about acting in his previous life.
Dilraba looked at him.
“If you want to act someday, then act.”
He chuckled.
“My father might have something to say about that.”
She immediately laughed.
“Uncle wants you in uniform.”
“Everyone knows?”
“Everyone.”
Krishna sighed.
Apparently his destiny had already been planned.
A Vardhan son.
Military examination.
Service.
Responsibility.
Perhaps command.
He looked down at his hands.
Strangely— he didn’t resent it.
The Vardhan family had given this body everything.
This family loved him.
If their tradition required him to fulfill certain responsibilities before choosing his own future— then he would fulfill them.
He had been given another life.
That didn’t mean he should spend it running away from responsibility.
Krishna stood.
Dilraba looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“Studying.”
“You were already studying.”
“Military history.”
She made a face.
“That’s boring.”
“Tell my father that.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
“I want to live.”
Krishna laughed.
They walked toward the exit together.
At the doorway, however, Krishna stopped.
He looked back.
The entertainment database remained open.
Movies.
Television.
Music.
Stories.
An entire world waiting beyond the walls of Surya-Jade Estate.
His first life had ended with him wondering what might have happened if he had possessed another chance.
This time— he had one.
But he also had something he hadn’t expected.
Parents.
Sisters.
A brother.
A little sister.
A childhood friend.
Two ancient families whose blood and expectations flowed through his new identity.
And responsibilities that came with all of them.
Krishna closed the entertainment archive.
Not because he was abandoning that dream.
Quite the opposite.
He would reach it.
But he wouldn’t run toward it while abandoning everything this life had given him.
First— he would become a son worthy of his parents.
A brother his siblings could depend upon.
A descendant worthy of both the Vardhan and Li names.
And when those responsibilities were fulfilled— he would choose his own road.
Krishna stepped into the corridor.
Dilraba was waiting.
“Coming?”
He smiled.
“Yeah.”
As they walked through the ancient halls of Surya-Jade Estate, sunlight passed through the windows and fell across the symbols of two civilizations carved into its walls.