《Son Of None》


 Prologue

    I couldn¡¯t tell you how many times I¡¯d wondered if there was a way to cheat death. Ever think about that? How you¡¯d slip out of its grip, just once, when it finally came for you? I thought about it a lot. Every time I closed my eyes, I wondered if this would be it ¡ª my last night. Or if death would stay merciful.


    And somehow¡­ it always did.


    If I was lucky, I¡¯d wake up the next morning ¡ª not refreshed, not rested ¡ª just alive. Barely. A little bit thankful, a lot more exhausted. It felt like I¡¯d slept through the night, but my body told a different story. Like I¡¯d been fighting in my dreams, running from something I couldn¡¯t remember.


    When I finally dragged myself out of bed, it was an effort ¡ª every single time. Even standing felt like too much. And when I made the mistake of looking in the mirror, I barely recognized the face staring back. Pale skin. Dark circles so deep they looked bruised. Hollow eyes that hadn¡¯t seen real rest in¡­ God, how long had it been?


    Two years.


    Two years of this. And somehow, I was still here. But I had no idea how.


    "I know this isn¡¯t easy to hear." The doctor¡¯s voice was calm, careful ¡ª I felt like he was afraid I¡¯d shatter if he spoke too loud. "The surgery could improve your quality of life, maybe even save it ¡ª but the costs can be overwhelming without insurance. We can explore other treatment options first if you¡¯re not ready to commit to something this expensive."


    Expensive. Right. That was the word that killed the conversation for me.


    I sat there, nodding like I was processing it, but my mind had already checked out. Because let¡¯s be real ¡ª what was there to process? I couldn¡¯t even afford regular check-ups, and now they were talking about surgery.


    My savings? A joke. My paycheck? Barely enough to keep the lights on and food in the fridge. Living alone didn¡¯t mean I had any extra cash lying around. It just meant there was no one to split the bills with.


    All thanks to my glamorous job as a Customer Support Representative ¡ª which, let¡¯s face it, had to be the lowest-paying position in the entire company. Or maybe I was just bitter. Hard to tell when you spend most of your day pinned to a desk, listening to strangers scream at you because their Wi-Fi¡¯s slow or their account got overcharged by two bucks.


    But I wasn¡¯t complaining. Not really. Complaining took energy ¡ª and I didn¡¯t have much of that left. I wanted to quit. God, I wanted to quit so bad. Just walk out, finally get some rest, stop feeling like my body was falling apart one day at a time.


    But how was I supposed to quit when I couldn¡¯t even afford to breathe without calculating the cost? Where would the money come from? How would I eat? What was I supposed to do ¡ª call my parents?


    Yeah. No.


    My parents weren¡¯t dead ¡ª but they might as well have been. Drug addiction had turned them into people I barely recognized. Even sober, they were¡­ gone.


    So, yeah. I was alone. Had been for a long time.


    Having a job in my thirties was supposed to be a blessing ¡ª especially without a college degree. And sure, maybe it was. But damn, I wish someone would notice how hard I worked and actually do something about it. A raise. A bonus. Anything.


    Not that I was holding my breath.


    Still, a little extra money would mean a lot. It might even help me deal with¡­ this. This complication I¡¯d been dragging around like a weight chained to my ankles. But instead of getting ahead, I was here ¡ª stuck in this tiny cubicle, my body screaming for rest while I pretended I was perfectly fine.


    Not that it was convincing anyone. I could feel the way people¡¯s eyes lingered, the way they¡¯d glance at the dark circles under mine, the slouch in my posture. But I couldn¡¯t let it slip. Couldn¡¯t show weakness. I had to perform. Had to execute my job perfectly.


    I had to keep going.


    Because if I stopped¡ªif I let myself slow down for even a second¡ªI¡¯d rot.


    And who the hell wants to rot in a tiny, suffocating apartment like this? If I was gonna die, I¡¯d at least want it to be somewhere¡­ bigger. Somewhere with space to breathe.


    But that meant I had to keep moving. Keep pushing. No matter how tired I was.


    "Hah¡­ crazy." I muttered it to the ceiling, out on the cold, wooden floor of my dim apartment room. "Surgery, huh?"


    The word felt distant. Unreal. Like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.


    Severe OSA.


    That¡¯s what the doctors called it. Severe obstructive sleep apnea. I¡¯d been diagnosed in my late twenties, and somehow, I was still breathing. Most days, it didn¡¯t feel like it. Most days, it felt like I was already halfway gone.


    "Crazy, right?" I whispered to no one. Then a laughed. "Ha¡­ ha¡­ hahahaha." I clutched my stomach, the laughter shaking my ribs. It wasn¡¯t funny. None of this was funny. But when you¡¯re this tired, everything starts sounding like a goddamn joke.


    Maybe I should just sleep through it. See if I wake up tomorrow. Or maybe I wouldn¡¯t. Wouldn¡¯t that be easier? Just close my eyes and let it happen.


    The floor wasn¡¯t so bad, anyway. Cold, sure, but comforting in a weird way. Familiar. It reminded me of being a kid¡ªlying on the living room floor with my arms stretched out, my parents nearby, no weight on my shoulders. No endless exhaustion.


    Back when life didn¡¯t feel like drowning.


    Knock. Knock.


    The sound snapped me out of my thoughts. I blinked, pushing myself up with a groan. My joints protested, my body slow and sluggish. I adjusted my sweatshirt, ran a hand through my hair, and shuffled toward the door.


    "Who¡¯s that?" My voice cracked, rough and tired as I cleared my throat.


    "It¡¯s Maya! Open up, unc!"


    Oh, this little¡ª


    I yanked the door open, and there she was. Maya. Mid-teens, all energy and attitude. Short, dark brown hair half-tucked behind her ears. She grinned up at me like she owned the place.


    She and her grandmother lived next door. I¡¯d known them since I moved in, and somehow, in that time, she decided I was "unc." Not "mister," not my actual name¡ªjust "unc."


    "There you are, squirt." I leaned against the doorframe, giving her a look.


    "How¡¯s work, unc?"


    I ignored the title¡ªlike always¡ªand kept my face straight.


    "Absolutely fun." My voice was so deadpan it could¡¯ve been a corpse.


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    She burst out laughing, and that¡¯s when I noticed the saucepan in her hands. My stomach already knew what it was. Her grandmother¡¯s cooking. Again.


    "Did you eat yet?" she asked.


    "No. And I¡¯m guessing your grandma¡¯s sending another dish?"


    "Bingo!" She threw one arm up like she¡¯d scored a goal¡ªand the saucepan wobbled dangerously in her grip.


    "Hey¡ª!" I lunged, catching the bottom before the whole thing went crashing to the floor. My heart damn near stopped.


    "You brat!" I barked, still holding the pan steady. "You almost dropped it!"


    "But I didn¡¯t." She grinned, entirely unbothered.


    "Whew¡­"


    Maya didn¡¯t even wait. She shoved the saucepan right into my stomach, and I damn near jumped out of my skin.


    "What the¡ª!" I snapped, flinching back. "It¡¯s hot, you idiot¡ª"


    But¡­ it wasn¡¯t.


    I blinked, looking down at the pan. I could¡¯ve sworn I saw steam coming off it, but when it hit my sweatshirt, there was nothing. No burn. I tapped the side with my finger¡ªbarely warm.


    "Oh. It¡¯s not."


    "Grandma made it a while ago. Just heat it up, unc." She was already turning away, waving a hand over her shoulder "Yeah, sure¡ªhey, tell your grandma thanks!" I called after her, watching her disappear down the hallway.


    Kind neighbors. That¡¯s what they were. Maya¡¯s grandma was the first one to talk to me when I moved in¡ªsweet old lady, always checking in, always sharing food. And then there was Maya. Quiet at first, but that didn¡¯t last. Now she was all noise and energy and unsolicited nicknames.


    I wasn¡¯t sure when I started seeing her like a little sister, but there it was. We weren¡¯t that close, not really¡ªbut it was nice, sometimes, sharing a little advice, swapping stories. And her grandma¡¯s cooking? Yeah. That happened every day. Literally. I¡¯d felt weird about it at first, but it¡¯d be rude to turn down a meal made with that much care.


    I popped the lid off the pan, and the smell hit me immediately.


    "Chicken curry," I muttered, grinning. "Called it."


    I set the pan on the stove, not planning to eat right away¡ªbut the thought of cooking something later? Yeah, no thanks. This saved me the hassle. And honestly, that was a relief.


    When I finally did eat, I went a little overboard. By the time I was done, I was lying on the floor, my stomach stretched tight and uncomfortable. I couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d managed to finish it all¡ªeven the leftover rice.


    "Ha¡­ ha¡­" I groaned, feeling half-dead.


    Eventually, I reached for a book. Not just to kill time¡ªreading was my thing. Fiction, poetry, essays¡­ didn¡¯t matter. It was the only thing that unwound my brain after a long day. Made me forget how late it was. Made me forget what was coming.


    But the clock kept ticking. And the later it got, the harder it was to ignore it.


    How the hell was I supposed to sleep when there was a chance I wouldn¡¯t wake up?


    Maybe I should just read all night. Ride it out.


    But my body didn¡¯t care what I wanted. Sleep always won in the end. And when it did¡­ the nightmare started all over again.


    The suffocating weight.


    My hands clawed at my chest, but I couldn¡¯t feel them¡ªcouldn¡¯t feel anything except the crushing pressure pushing me down, down, down. My throat locked up, airless and burning. I hadn¡¯t drowned before, but I was pretty sure this was what it felt like.


    Sinking. Fighting. And losing.


    I woke up again. And again. And again. Each time slipping back into that suffocating hell until the sun finally dragged me out of it. But it wasn¡¯t relief ¡ª just another kind of exhaustion. Like I hadn¡¯t slept at all.


    My head pounded. My throat felt like sandpaper. Every muscle in my body ached, like I¡¯d been in a fight and lost badly.


    "Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!" I shouted, my voice cracking. Sweat poured down my face, soaking the sheets beneath me. I didn¡¯t care if the neighbors heard. Let them. I needed to let it out ¡ª the frustration, the fear, the goddamn exhaustion ¡ª before I dragged myself through another day.


    Eventually, I got up. Pulled myself together. Put on the mask. Like always.


    I used to be grateful just to wake up alive. Now? I was too tired to even think about it. Too tired to care.


    This¡­ this was torture.


    ¡°Good morning, sir! How can I help you today?¡±


    The words came out smooth, bright ¡ª like I hadn¡¯t spent the night drowning in my own body.


    They taught us to smile when we spoke, said people could hear it over the phone. Said it changed the whole atmosphere.


    Maybe it did.


    But right then, my hand kept slipping on the receiver, my grip weak and unsteady. My eyes burned, struggling to stay open.


    ¡°¡­follow¡­ order¡­ yesterday¡­ wondering if¡­ add¡­ product¡­ necessary?¡±


    The words blurred together. My head spun. I forced myself to stay upright, to stay on the call ¡ª even when his voice faded into static.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    The sound barely registered.


    ¡°Hey! Are you there?¡±


    Shit.


    I jolted upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. ¡°Oh¡ªno! I-I apologize for the pause, sir. Something¡­ happened. Could you repeat that, please?¡±


    My voice shook. I knew it. He probably did, too.


    This was the first time my sleep apnea had followed me to work ¡ª and I had no idea how much longer I could keep it at bay.


    ¡°I said,¡± the customer repeated, his tone a little sharper now, ¡°I was wondering if I could add another product to my current order?¡±


    I swallowed hard, forcing my focus back. ¡°Of course, sir. Let¡¯s get that sorted for you right away.¡±


    Smile. Sound bright. Stay awake.


    The day passed in a blur of paper and noise ¡ª documents piled on my desk, calls stacking up, angry customers waiting to unload their misery onto me. If I could swear at them, I would¡¯ve done it a long time ago. God knows they deserved it.


    But I didn¡¯t. Because I needed this job.


    So I kept my mouth shut. Bit back the frustration. Let it pile up right alongside everything else.


    Even when I was too busy to breathe, I could feel the eyes on me. My coworkers. My manager. Their glances were quick but obvious ¡ª Did I really look that bad?


    When I finally got home, the sun was already gone. The world was dark, and so was I.


    What was I supposed to feel? Relief? Accomplishment?


    I felt empty. Worn thin. Like my body was devouring itself just to keep moving.


    I scratched at my scalp ¡ª more hair came loose. My skin itched, my nerves were shot, and every little thing grated on me.


    ¡°Unc, you look like crap.¡±


    I looked up to see Maya standing at her door, their dog sitting at her feet, looking about as judgmental as she did.


    ¡°Wow, thanks. That¡¯s exactly what I needed,¡± I muttered, yanking at my tie.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying. When¡¯s the last time you actually slept? Like¡­ really slept?¡±


    Her voice sounded off ¡ª quieter than usual. Even she sounded tired.


    ¡°I sleep every night,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t a lie. Not really.


    ¡°You sure don¡¯t look like it.¡±


    I snorted, putting my tie in my pocket.


    ¡°Seriously, though ¡ª you okay?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a terrible liar, you know that?¡±


    I looked at her, deadpan. Then I smiled.


    She flinched. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s creepy. Don¡¯t do that.¡±


    I waved her off, the same way I always did. I didn¡¯t need her worrying about me. She had better things to focus on ¡ª more important things than my sleepless nights and slow collapse.


    ¡°Unc?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Ever think about taking a break? A real one? Like¡­ an actual vacation?¡±


    I laughed ¡ª a short, bitter sound. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll just grab my overflowing savings and book a two-week cruise. Oh wait¡ª¡±


    ¡°God, you¡¯re so dramatic.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°When was the last time you did anything fun? You only ever go to work.¡±


    I paused. When was the last time I had fun? I couldn¡¯t remember. Even if I¡¯d had the time, I wouldn¡¯t have enjoyed it ¡ª not with this constant weight pressing down on me.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s messed up, Unc.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said quietly. ¡°It is.¡±


    The sky stretched out above me ¡ª wide, empty, endless. I stared up at it without really seeing, my mind just as blank.


    ¡°Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime,¡± Maya said, her voice breaking the quiet. ¡°Grandma keeps asking about you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ maybe next time.¡± I didn¡¯t even look at her. Didn¡¯t have the energy.


    ¡°Unc, that¡¯s free food. Like, FREE FOOD.¡±


    That almost got a laugh out of me. Almost. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Better hurry. You¡¯re looking, like¡­ one bad day away from keeling over.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°If I do, I¡¯m definitely haunting you.¡±


    ¡°Cool! I¡¯ve always wanted a ghost uncle. You could totally haunt my teachers.¡±


    We both laughed ¡ª hers light and easy, mine low and strained. My back felt like it was folding in on itself, but somehow I still managed to let out that sound. It felt strange.


    ¡°Seriously though,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°Take care of yourself, okay? Grandma says the same thing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± My voice barely made it out. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    My apartment was dark and silent when I stepped inside. Too silent.


    The floor felt unsteady beneath me, my legs threatening to buckle with every step. My vision blurred, edges softening, my focus slipping in and out. It was like my brain couldn¡¯t latch onto anything.


    Thud.


    I didn¡¯t even make it to the couch. Just let my back hit the cold, hard floor and stayed there ¡ª still in my suit, shoes and all. Couldn¡¯t even find the strength to kick them off.


    ¡°This again,¡± I muttered, my voice lost in the quiet.


    But there was a strange kind of peace in it. No phones ringing. No angry voices. Just the sound of my own breathing ¡ª heavy and uneven.


    At some point, hours must¡¯ve passed because I found myself in my bedroom without remembering how I got there. I stared up at the ceiling, my mind turning over the same question it always did: How much longer can I keep this up?


    I didn¡¯t have an answer.


    But I did have the urge ¡ª that old, familiar pull I hadn¡¯t felt in months. My hand reached for the notebook on my nightstand, fingers brushing over the worn cover. I grabbed a pen and flipped to a fresh page.


    This was my ritual. My last words ¡ª just in case I didn¡¯t wake up tomorrow.


    I used to do this every night. Stopped for a while when it felt like work.


    So why was I starting again?


    Should I write an appreciation letter? Or just¡­ scribble some nonsense? Maybe a doodle. Hell, whatever. I managed to get a few words down eventually.


    Not that I¡¯ll tell you what they were. My head was spinning too much, my eyes barely staying open. The words didn¡¯t even feel real. Just ink on paper.


    Huff.


    Huff¡­


    Time slipped away. When I came to, I was gasping, clutching my chest like my heart was trying to rip its way out. Sweat poured off me, soaking my clothes, my skin cold and clammy. I tried to breathe. Failed. Tried again.


    It took minutes¡ªlong, awful minutes¡ªbut eventually, the panic eased.


    Huff.


    Huff¡­


    And then¡­ I slept.


    But the thought stayed with me, gnawing at the edge of my mind.


    Could I cheat dying?


    When I opened my eyes¡ªif I even had eyes¡ªI wasn¡¯t in my room. Everything was white. Endless and empty. The pain was gone, the pressure in my chest just¡­ gone. Even the pounding in my skull had vanished.


    But this place¡ªthis eerie, silent nothingness¡ªI knew it. I¡¯d dreamed of it before. I was sure of it. And if it was the same¡­ then something was coming.


    Someone.


    The air rippled.


    And then it appeared¡ªno, not a figure. An energy. A mass of dark, crimson smoke, writhing like it was alive. It wasn¡¯t human. It wasn¡¯t anything I had words for. But I knew it. Just like I knew this place.


    Huff¡­


    Huff¡­


    Huff¡­


    Then a voice¡ªdeep, raw, furious¡ªthundered through the emptiness.


    ¡°BLEEDING AETHER!¡±


    The hell¡ª? Who said that? It wasn¡¯t me. I couldn¡¯t even move, except for my eyes, flicking desperately toward the smoke.


    The voice roared again, vibrating through me like it was shaking my bones apart.


    ¡°I CAN¡¯T BELIEVE I MADE A PACT WITH A HUMAN!¡±


    A pact? What the hell was it talking about?


    I needed to wake up. Right now.


    I fought against the weight pinning me down, tried to force my body to move. My mind screamed at me¡ªWake up! Wake up, you idiot! WAKE UP!


    But I couldn¡¯t.


    The voice kept raging, its words burning into me.


    ¡°THIS IS CRAZY! A HUMAN! BLEEDING AETHER!¡±


    Was this it? Had I finally died, just like I¡¯d always been afraid of?


    But¡­ if this was death, why did it feel so¡ª


    Peaceful.


    Better than anything I¡¯d felt in a long time.


    Was this heaven? Was God real? And if He was, why did He sound like a furious smoke monster?


    Had I really died?


    No. I couldn¡¯t have. Not yet.


    I hadn¡¯t bought a house. I hadn¡¯t started my business. I hadn¡¯t gotten rich.


    I hadn¡¯t¡ª


    DAMN IT.

 Chapter 1: Young Master of Nowhere

    I tried¡ªonce, twice¡ªto wake up. To drag myself out of the endless white void and back to reality. Back to my cramped apartment, my too-small bed, the familiar suffocating weight in my chest.


    But when my eyes finally opened¡­


    I wasn¡¯t home.


    The bed I lay in was massive¡ªeasily big enough for five people. The mattress was soft, the sheets impossibly smooth. This wasn¡¯t my bed. Hell, this wasn¡¯t my life.


    And yet, I didn¡¯t panic.


    No gasping for air. No clutching my chest, waiting for my heart to stop trying to kill me. For the first time in years, I woke up without feeling like I was drowning.


    But why?


    Why¡ª


    The thought shattered when I saw my hands.


    My breath hitched. My eyes went wide. So did my mouth, my nostrils¡ªevery part of me frozen in silent horror.


    Because the thing I raised in front of my face wasn¡¯t my hand.


    It was a stick.


    Thin, frail, the skin stretched too tight over sharp, bony knuckles. Veins bulged like they were trying to claw their way out. It didn¡¯t even look real¡ªmore like a prop from some horror movie.


    But it moved when I told it to.


    My stomach flipped. My throat closed up.


    This¡­ this couldn¡¯t be mine.


    It wasn¡¯t possible.


    Am I hallucinating?


    I tore the white blanket off¡ªand what I saw made my stomach drop once again.


    It wasn¡¯t just the hands.


    These legs¡­ God, my legs were the same. Thin, skeletal things stretched tight with pale, papery skin. Like a corpse someone had forgotten to bury.


    My chest rose and fell too fast, heart pounding against bones that shouldn¡¯t be mine.


    What the hell is this?


    I tried to think¡ªtried to make sense of it. Coma? Maybe I¡¯d been in a hospital bed for years, wasting away¡­ but no. This room¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a hospital. The walls were stone, the furniture heavy and ornate. Medieval, almost, though there was just enough of a modern touch to throw me off. Elegant, old¡­ and nothing like any place I¡¯d ever seen.


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    I swallowed hard and tried to speak.


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±


    The sound that came out wasn¡¯t even a word. Just a rasp of pain. It was dry¡ªso dry it felt like it might crack open if I forced another sound.


    Before I could try again, I heard it¡ªnoise from outside the room. Loud. Sharp. Voices rising in the unmistakable rhythm of murmurs, or even cheers.


    Something was happening.


    And I had no idea where I was, whose body this was, or how in the world I¡¯d ended up here.


    I had to move.


    The problem was this body. These stick-thin legs looked like they¡¯d snap if I so much as sneezed. And my hands¡ªif you could even call them that¡ªweren¡¯t much better. But I didn¡¯t have a choice.


    I grabbed the edge of the bed, my bony fingers curling around the sheets as I tried to push myself upright. My arms shook, my knees wobbled, and for a second, I thought I was going right back down¡ª


    But somehow, I stood. Barely.


    That was another confirmation: I was alive. If you could call this living.


    The noise outside grew louder the closer I got to the window¡ªshouts, the sharp clatter of something metal. Urgency bled through the walls, and curiosity pushed me forward. I needed to see what was happening.


    But this body had other ideas.


    My foot caught on the floor. My balance tipped, and before I could stop it¡ª


    Blag!


    Face. Meet floor.


    ¡°Shi¡ª¡± The word cut off in a hiss of pain, my throat too dry to finish.


    I stayed there a second, my face pressed against cold floor, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the sheer patheticness of it all. Walking shouldn¡¯t be this hard.


    But I didn¡¯t have time to wallow. The noise outside hadn¡¯t stopped. If anything, it was getting worse.


    So I did the only thing I could.


    I crawled.


    Dignity was a problem for later. Right now, I needed answers¡ªand that window was the fastest way to get them.


    Climbing the chair damn near killed me.


    It wasn¡¯t just big ¡ª it was massive, carved from dark wood and built like a throne. And me? I was¡­ whatever this body was. Weak. Shaky. The kind of thin that made me wonder if a stiff breeze could snap me in half. By the time I finally hauled myself up, my vision blurred at the edges, and my chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.


    I gasped for air, but it wasn¡¯t enough. My lungs burned, every breath shallow and ragged, and for a second, I thought I was gonna puke.


    This body¡¯s worse off than I thought.


    But I didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t.


    Using the chair for balance, I reached for the wide stone ledge beneath the window and dragged myself up. The cold bit into my skin, and my arms trembled so hard I almost slipped. But I made it ¡ª barely.


    And when I looked outside¡­ everything stopped.


    Knights. Actual, honest-to-god knights.


    They stood in formation below, armored and armed, their polished steel gleaming under the sun. I recognized the shape of swords at their waists, the heavy shields strapped to their backs ¡ª but these weren¡¯t museum pieces. They looked ready for war.


    Then there was the carriage.


    It was huge, bigger than any vehicle I¡¯d ever seen, and made of dark wood and shining metal. Ornate, expensive. The kind of thing royalty would ride in. The driver ¡ª coachman, right? ¡ª sat rigid at the front, reins in hand. The horses were massive too, powerful and sleek, with armor covering their heads and chests.


    And the flag¡­


    It fluttered above the carriage, a rich fabric bearing a golden emblem. I squinted at the shape ¡ª something round, almost like¡­ bread? No, that couldn¡¯t be right. But whatever it was, it was the first time I¡¯d seen anything like it.


    My mind raced. Knights? Royal carriages? This wasn¡¯t some historical reenactment. This was real ¡ª too real.


    Where the hell am I?


    A monarchy, maybe? Some old-fashioned country clinging to tradition? That made sense ¡ª or at least, it would¡¯ve.


    If I hadn¡¯t died.


    Because I had died. I was sure of it. I remembered the sleep, the blackness ¡ª the way everything just stopped. So what in the world was this?


    Reincarnation?


    The thought hit me hard, and my breath caught.


    Damn.


    Was that even possible?


    I stared down at the scene below, mind spinning. The knights. The carriage. The golden flag.


    If this was some monarchy type of country ¡ª and it sure looked like one ¡ª and they looked like they were headed straight for this estate. Which raised a much bigger question: who in the world was I right now?


    I hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at myself yet, but the clues weren¡¯t great. The stick-thin limbs. The short height. The way standing felt like it might actually kill me.


    This has to be a kid¡¯s body. A weak, fragile one at that.


    Before I could dig deeper into that disturbing thought, the door behind me groaned.


    Creak.


    My head snapped toward the sound just in time to see it open ¡ª and a figure stepped inside. A woman. Dressed in white, the fabric crisp and familiar in a way that took my brain a second to catch up on.


    A maid.


    The word clicked just as she spotted me. Her eyes went wide.


    ¡°Young master!¡± she gasped ¡ª and then she rushed toward me.


    I froze. Half because moving still felt like a terrible idea, and half because ¡ª Young master?


    Me? This frail mess of a kid?


    The title slammed into my thoughts, dragging a whole new wave of questions with it. I¡¯d read enough to know what it meant ¡ª a formal address for the son of someone powerful. Nobility. Wealth. Influence.


    And considering the massive room I was in ¡ª all gold trim and rich colors, with furniture that screamed ¡°expensive¡± ¡ª it tracked.


    Then there w


    as the carriage outside. The knights. And now this maid, running toward me like I was the center of the damn universe.


    What kind of life did I just wake up into?

 Chapter 2: What Did You Do, Kid?

    I was just as shocked as she was ¡ª maybe more ¡ª but that didn¡¯t stop her from scooping me up.


    And look, I get it. This body? Crazy weak. I could barely crawl across the room without feeling like my lungs were about to collapse. But still ¡ª being carried like some helpless toddler? Humiliating. Especially when you¡¯re a grown man in his thirties, trapped in whatever this was.


    Before I knew it, I was back in the bed. Again.


    The woman hovered over me, eyes wide and shining. ¡°Young master ¡ª how did you¡ª no, am I dreaming?!¡±


    Funny. I was kind of wondering the same thing.


    But the way she looked at me ¡ª hands pressed together like she was offering some kind of prayer, smiling so hard it reached her eyes ¡ª it made my stomach twist. There was something desperate in her relief.


    My throat ached. Talking felt impossible, but I forced a word out anyway. ¡°W¡­ water.¡±


    Her face lit up. ¡°Oh! I¡¯ll get you water right away!¡±


    Minutes passed before I could even speak properly ¡ª my throat still felt like sandpaper ¡ª but once I managed, the questions wouldn¡¯t stop. I needed answers.


    The woman¡¯s name was Mari. She looked startled when I asked, like she thought I¡¯d lost my mind. Maybe she wasn¡¯t far off.


    She kept insisting on calling the family physician, but I wasn¡¯t ready for that. Not yet. I convinced her to stay ¡ª told her I was dealing with some memory loss, which seemed like a safer explanation than the truth.


    Through her, I learned my name: Rowan. No last name ¡ª I didn¡¯t push for it. I had bigger questions. Like where am I.


    Mari¡¯s face twisted in confusion when I asked. ¡°The capital, Velmark, young master.¡±


    Velmark. Never heard of it. Not once. Denmark, sure ¡ª but Velmark? That didn¡¯t ring any bells.


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    The more I learned, the worse the pit in my stomach got.


    When I asked how old I was, she told me.


    Eleven.


    I was in the body of an eleven-year-old.


    That was¡­ a hell of an age gap from my original thirty-plus years.


    ¡°Young master,¡± Mari said gently, her face soft with worry, ¡°we¡­ we really didn¡¯t think you would wake up. You¡¯ve been unconscious for a week.¡±


    A week.


    Hearing it wasn¡¯t overwhelming at first ¡ª not really. But when you actually think about it, a kid being in a week-long coma? Yeah, that¡¯s terrifying. And I hadn¡¯t even lived through it ¡ª I just woke up here, hijacked this body. That part? That was the real nightmare.


    ¡°Should I call the physician now, young master?¡± Mari¡¯s voice broke through my thoughts, gentle but insistent.


    I didn¡¯t want to agree. Not yet. But pushing for more answers was only going to make her more suspicious ¡ª like I¡¯d been possessed or swapped out for something else. And maybe I had.


    Besides, the physician might actually tell me something useful.


    So I nodded. And then I waited.


    And waited.


    Half an hour passed. Nothing. No physician. Just me, stuck in this bed, too weak to do anything but stew in my own frustration.


    An hour. Still nothing. I eyed the door, seriously considering crawling my way out again ¡ª but even my pride wasn¡¯t that desperate yet.


    Finally, the door creaked open. Mari stepped inside, and behind her was someone taller, still talking as they walked in.


    ¡°Seriously, how that kid even survive that? I swear, Mari, if you¡¯re messing with me, I¡¯m gonna slice you up and heal you after!¡±


    ¡­Okay. That was one way to make an entrance.


    The door clicked shut, and the second she spotted me, the woman behind Mari moved.


    Fast.


    One second, she was by the door ¡ª the next, she was right up in my space, leaning over me so close I flinched back against the pillows. For a second, I thought she was about to kiss me ¡ª which was insane, but so was the whole situation.


    Up close, she looked like she belonged on a battlefield, not in a sickroom. Lean, strong, dark brown hair tied back with a few loose strands falling into her face. Sharp gray eyes. Olive-toned skin, tanned and weathered.


    And she wasn¡¯t just looking at me ¡ª she was studying me.


    ¡°What in Phanes¡¯ light is going on here?!¡± she demanded.


    Swearing, then. Or maybe a prayer ¡ª either way, she was clearly thrown.


    Her hand pressed against my stomach, her touch clinical and rough. She didn¡¯t seem to care much about personal space, and there was something else I noticed, too ¡ª something I probably should care about.


    This woman? She wasn¡¯t treating me like a how Mari treated me, considering this kid was a son of a noble.


    She tapped my stomach¡ªlight, but I felt it. And I definitely didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°What did you do, kid?!¡±


    How was I supposed to answer that? I didn¡¯t have any memories besides my old life¡ªand how I¡¯d ended up in this one was still a complete mystery. I didn¡¯t even know what this kid¡¯s body had been through before I woke up in it.


    But I had to say something.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± I said finally. ¡°I just woke up.¡±


    ¡°Woke up?¡± She snorted. ¡°Yeah, featherweight, we all saw that part. I¡¯m asking how your illness just¡­ vanished.¡±


    My stomach twisted¡ªnot from whatever she was poking at, but from the word itself.


    Illness?


    I blinked at her, then at Mari. They were both watching me too closely, and I had no idea what they wanted from me. I knew this kid had been in a coma, but illness? What in the world had been wrong with him? It must¡¯ve been serious¡ªthis body was weak enough to prove that.


    But I had no idea how to play this. I didn¡¯t even know what game we were in.


    ¡°What¡­ illness?¡± I asked slowly.


    The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. When I pressed here¡ª¡± she tapped my stomach again, and I bit down a wince¡ª¡°I didn¡¯t feel anything off. Which leaves me with two options.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°One: you did something. Or two: you really don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, and this time the words came easier. Because they were the truth. ¡°I don¡¯t remember¡­ anything.¡±


    Mari¡¯s face softened¡ªjust a bit¡ªand when she glanced at the doctor, she gave a small, almost hesitant nod.


    Like she believed me. Or wanted to.


    The doctor? She wasn¡¯t convinced. Not yet. And the way she was still staring at me made it clear she wasn¡¯t the type to let things go.

 Chapter 3: Magic, or Something Worse?

    Honestly, I was starting to wonder what kind of doctor interrogated her patients right after they¡¯d been in a week-long coma. She had this intense, almost unhinged energy that made my skin crawl.


    And the worst part? We were now alone.


    After barking some order at Mari to fetch warm water and a thick towel, the maid slipped out, leaving me stuck with this woman¡ªwho felt less like a physician and more like an angry boss about to fire me.


    She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. ¡°I suppose you really don¡¯t remember a thing, do you?¡±


    Before I could answer, she reached out and tapped my forehead with one finger. I blinked, more surprised than anything else.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry. Uh¡­ maybe you could tell me what happened? Before I¡ª¡± I searched for the right words. ¡°¡ªfell unconscious?¡±


    Her lip curled. ¡°You really want to know, you crazy little freak?¡±


    I nodded slowly, though even that sent a sharp ache crawling up my neck. Seriously¡ªwhat the hell was wrong with this body?


    ¡°Alright, then.¡± She cracked her knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s start from the top.¡±


    She paused dramatically.


    ¡°I was in the middle of something¡ªan experiment. Medical, you could say. But forget it. You wouldn¡¯t understand anyway.¡±


    ¡­Okay? That wasn¡¯t ominous at all.


    But her attitude¡ªblunt, no-nonsense, and vaguely chaotic¡ªmade me think of someone. Maya. Except this woman? Somehow more blunt. And I hadn¡¯t even thought that was possible.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she went on, ¡°I was working when the whole estate went into a panic. Someone came running, screaming that the head son¡ª¡± she pointed to me with zero subtlety ¡°¡ªhad just jumped out a window.¡±


    I froze. ¡°Jumped¡­ what?¡±


    She jabbed a finger toward the window across the room. The same one I¡¯d been sitting near earlier.


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    ¡°That window.¡±


    I stared at it, my eyes widening.


    This kid¡ªmy body¡ªhad jumped out of that window?


    I thought this kid had some kind of illness ¡ª figured that¡¯s what made his body this way. Turns out I was only half right. And half very, very wrong.


    The doctor clicked her tongue, shaking her head. ¡°Tsk. Crazy, right?¡±


    She turned her back on me, walking to the window ¡ª the same one this kid supposedly jumped out of. Her hands rested on the sill, but she didn¡¯t look out.


    ¡°You¡¯re too eager to throw your life away,¡± she said quietly. ¡°You treat it like it¡¯s cheap. Disposable.¡±


    She let that hang in the air a second, then turned her head just enough for me to catch the edge of her profile.


    ¡°But let me tell you something, featherweight.¡± Her voice dropped lower. ¡°I¡¯ve held more dying hands than I can count. And not one of them wanted to let go. Not one. When the end comes, you¡¯ll beg for one more breath. One more second. So stop acting like you¡¯re ready to die when you haven¡¯t even figured out how to live.¡±


    The room went silent.


    Her words hit like¡­one of those you don¡¯t feel right away, but the ache blooms after. I didn¡¯t know the full story of this kid or his reasons for¡­ whatever led to that fall. But the weight behind what she said sat heavy.


    Still, I didn¡¯t know how to respond. I opened my mouth ¡ª maybe to nod, maybe to say something stupid ¡ª but thank God Mari chose that exact moment to walk back in.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the water and towel, Lady Elowen,¡± she said, bowing as she offered them up.


    Elowen. So that was her name.


    And from the way Mari treated her ¡ª deference, respect, maybe a little fear ¡ª it was pretty clear Elowen wasn¡¯t just some estate doctor.


    Was she some kind of mistress in this estate? No¡­ probably not. But the way Mari tiptoed around her made me wonder.


    ¡°Elowen, has House Malvern met with the head yet?¡± she asked, fishing a towel from the bowl of water Mari had brought.


    ¡°The meeting is currently happening, Lady Elowen,¡± Mari said, voice low, eyes down.


    Elowen dipped the towel into the water, then¡ªwait. Did she just¡­ blow on it? Was that some kind of prayer? I had no idea.


    And before I could figure it out, she pressed the warm, soaked towel straight onto my stomach, her cool hand following right after. The contrast was jarring ¡ª heat and ice at once ¡ª and then¡­ something changed.


    I felt it.


    Not just the warmth of the towel or the chill of her fingers, but¡­ deeper. Like something inside me was stirring, sluggish and heavy.


    ¡°The head and the Madrona aren¡¯t aware their second son is awake?¡± Elowen asked, her hand still resting on my stomach.


    Mari¡¯s head dipped so low I thought she might hit the floor. ¡°I-I deeply apologize for not informing them, Lady Elowen. The blame is mine. Entirely mine.¡±


    Elowen waved a hand, dismissive. ¡°It¡¯s fine. They wouldn¡¯t care even if you did.¡± A thin, bitter smile tugged at her mouth. ¡°Politics always come first.¡±


    The weird feeling in my stomach got worse¡ªlike my insides were twisting, coiling in on themselves. My hands¡ªthin, shaky things¡ªclawed at the bedsheets without me even realizing it.


    ¡°Kid, relax,¡± Elowen said, her voice calm but firm.


    Relax? Was she serious? My gut felt like it was trying to tie itself into knots, and she wanted me to relax? And what was she even doing¡ª


    Then her hand pressed a little harder on my stomach, and everything changed.


    A weight settled there¡ªnot just physical, but something heavier, deeper. And then I saw it.


    Green light.


    It bled out from under her hand, swirling like smoke. But then¡­ it shifted. Darker tendrils wrapped through the green, twisting and corrupting it until the color deepened into something dark and violent¡ªviolet.


    My body jerked back on instinct, slamming against the mattress. I couldn¡¯t help it.


    ¡°Hey! I said relax,¡± Elowen snapped. Then her voice softened, almost pitying. ¡°Look at all that toxin you¡¯ve built up after just a week. No wonder you feel pain all over.¡±


    Toxin? What was she talking about? And that smoke¡ªwhat even was it? My breath quickened, heart pounding as I stared at the dark violet haze rising from my skin.


    Was this some kind of trick? A hallucination?


    I glanced up at her. She had her eyes closed, lips moving in a whisper too low for me to catch. Whatever she was saying¡ªit wasn¡¯t normal.


    And then her eyes snapped open, and she hissed, ¡°Mother¡¯s mercy!¡± like it was half a prayer and half a curse.


    And me? I just lay there, completely dumbfounded. Because there was no way¡ªno way¡ªthis woman was just a physician.


    ¡­was that a magic?

 Chapter 4: The Fall Before the Rise

    Rowan''s POV (A life before death)


    "Get up!"


    The kick wasn¡¯t that hard ¡ª not really ¡ª but it still sent pain shooting up my leg. I wanted to scream, grab my shin, and rub where his boot had landed. But I didn¡¯t. I bit down on the cry clawing its way up my throat.


    I couldn¡¯t get up. My body wouldn¡¯t listen.


    But if I didn¡¯t¡ªif I stayed down¡ªhe¡¯d get disappointed.


    Get up.


    Get up!


    I slapped my legs, hard, trying to force life back into them. They stayed limp.. The harder I hit, the more my desperation rose ¡ª until I realized I was making these ragged, gasping sounds, and my face was wet.


    Crying. Again.


    ¡°Enough,¡± my father said.


    Just one word ¡ª calm, quiet ¡ª and it hit harder than his boot ever could.


    My body locked up. The sobs stopped. Even the tears froze on my cheeks.


    Why am I so weak?


    Why can¡¯t I be like my brother? Strong. Fast. Talented. Everything they said a son should be. Everything I wasn¡¯t.


    I wanted to beat him. I wanted to crush him. I wanted to prove I was worth something.


    But I couldn¡¯t even stand.


    "Are your legs all right, young master Rowan?"


    The voice belonged to Captain Velcorin ¡ª the head of our guards ¡ª and the second I heard it, my stomach twisted. He was already kneeling beside me, his hands hovering near my legs like I was about to fall apart. His face was tight with worry. It only made me feel worse.


    "I can stand up on my own," I mumbled, forcing my voice steady even though my legs still painful.


    The captain hesitated, then dipped his head. "My apologies."


    After that day, my father stopped training me. Just¡­ stopped. And I didn¡¯t have to meet him nearly as often anymore.


    But I did see him. With my older brother. A lot.


    I watched from the windows sometimes ¡ª their swords clashing, my brother was strong and my father¡¯s praise was clear.


    I hated it.


    "Training with Father must be fun, right?"


    "Who in Phanes'' light was that?!¡±


    The voice came from above, and I knew exactly who it was before I even looked up.


    Perched on the highest branch of the old oak tree beside the estate was my younger sister, Aisri. Her long, wavy brown hair had half-fallen from its ribbons, and golden-hazel eyes. A faint scar ran along her right jawline ¡ª a mark she never explained, no matter how many times we asked.


    And of course, she was up in the tree. Because that¡¯s what Aisri did. Climbing trees, sneaking out, doing things no noble girl was ever supposed to do.


    She grinned down at me. "Your favorite sister is up here!"


    "Enough with that favorite nonsense!" I snapped. "Just get down, you little¡ª"


    "Oh! You sound just like an angry adult brother now!" She laughed, kicking her legs.


    "You¡ª! If I catch you, I swear I¡¯ll¡ª!"


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    The words cut off when pain hit me, sudden and sharp. My legs buckled. My breath caught.


    And that was the start of it. The start of something none of us ever saw coming.


    "Brother!" Aisri¡¯s voice was distant and frantic.


    Then everything went dark.


    I lost track of how long I stayed in bed. A year, maybe? Longer?


    The illness started in my stomach, they said. But none of the doctors could figure out what it actually was. The pain grew worse. My body grew weaker. Every day, I faded a little more.


    It wasn¡¯t until Aunt Elowen returned from her travels that the pain finally eased ¡ª just a little. She tried everything, but even she couldn¡¯t name the disease. After months of experiments and treatments, all she could tell us was that it was chronic.


    A sickness that ate away at my body.


    I grew thinner and thinner. My muscles wasted. Soon, even moving a finger felt like lifting a stone.


    Our mother¡­she had the same illness, they told me but eventually she got treated and now healing to a different place. But mine was even worse. More advanced.


    I stopped hoping after that.


    My father¡­ he stopped visiting altogether. I could tell he didn¡¯t want to see me like this ¡ª weak and wasting away.


    And me? The dream of getting stronger, of ever standing on my own two feet again¡­


    It was dying, too.


    I hated myself.


    I hated being weak.


    But there I was ¡ª standing at the massive window of my room, my fingers gripping the frame so tight my knuckles ached. The wind tugged at my hair, cool and sharp against my face. Below, the courtyard stretched far, far down ¡ª stones waiting like teeth.


    How did it come to this? How did I get this¡­ this sickness?


    My chest ached. My stomach twisted. The pain never really went away. Some days it dulled, some days it burned ¡ª but it was always there, chewing me up from the inside.


    I needed to get stronger. I needed to fight back. I needed to defeat my brother. Prove to Father I wasn¡¯t useless. Prove to myself I was worth something.


    But all I could do was stand there, shaking, while that horrible feeling crushed me ¡ª this tight, suffocating weight that never let up.


    Maybe if I¡­


    My toes edged closer to the ledge. The stones below seemed so far away ¡ª and so close.


    No. I shouldn¡¯t.


    I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to face this. I had to fight. Mother was being treated ¡ª maybe they¡¯d find a cure for me too. Maybe I¡¯d get better. I¡¯d train again. I¡¯d get stronger. I¡¯d surprise Father.


    Yeah¡­ yeah, that was¡ª


    A touch.


    Fingers brushed my back ¡ª light, almost gentle ¡ª and then they shoved.


    The world tilted.


    Air rushed past me, tearing at my clothes, my hair ¡ª and the ground raced up to meet me.


    Somewhere above, someone was watching me fall.


    But there was no time to wonder who it was.


    Because I was falling.


    Rowan''s POV (The new soul)


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± My voice cracked somewhere between a shout and a gasp as my body jerked upright on its own.


    Elowen¡¯s hand was still pressed against my stomach¡ªand from under her palm, thick, dark smoke curled into the air.


    ¡°Lie down,¡± she said, shoving me back with a firm but careful push.


    And then the pain hit.


    ¡°AGHH!¡±


    It felt like my insides were being ripped apart¡ªmuscles seizing, twisting, tearing with a deep, burning ache. My hands fisted the sheets, white-knuckled and shaking.


    Elowen didn¡¯t flinch. If anything, her grip on my stomach tightened, her focus was sharp. The room blurred at the edges, but I could still see Mari standing by, wide-eyed and pale, clutching a cloth like she had no idea what to do with it.


    ¡°I told you to relax, you idiot,¡± Elowen snapped, not even looking up.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah¡­ arghhh¡­ I¡¯m trying¡­¡± The words scraped out of my throat, barely more than a breath.


    And still, the smoke poured out¡ªthicker, darker¡ªuntil a rancid stench filled the room.


    I gagged. ¡°What¡­ what is that smell?¡± It wasn¡¯t rot, but it wasn¡¯t far off¡ªsharp and chemical, like something burned and spoiled all at once.


    Elowen didn¡¯t answer. She just kept pushing down on my stomach.


    An hour passed, and finally¡ªfinally¡ªthe dark smoke started to thin out and fade. With it, the pain eased, leaving me drained but¡­ better. Lighter, somehow. Elowen called it toxins, and sure, I felt their absence, but I still had no idea what the hell that weird, smoky magic actually was. I didn¡¯t ask, though. Curiosity aside, I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted the answer.


    Elowen wiped her hands on a cloth, giving me one last sharp look. ¡°I¡¯ll check on you hourly. And you¡¯d better not jump out that window again¡ªor I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure she was joking.


    But under that threat, there was something else¡ªworry. It hit me then, the way she talked, the way she hovered. I kept forgetting I was in the body of a kid. Maybe I didn¡¯t act like one, but it didn¡¯t change the fact. And I guess, to her, I was just another reckless child she had to keep alive.


    Still, I was relieved when she finally left. That just left me and Mari¡ªand I had questions. A lot of them.


    ¡°Hey¡­ Mari.¡±


    She practically bolted from her spot near the wall, rushing to my bedside. She almost knelt right there.


    Okay¡­ weird.


    ¡°Young master?¡± she asked, her voice soft, careful.


    ¡°You saw what happened earlier, right?¡±


    She froze. I watched her eyes widen before she slowly shook her head. ¡°I¡ªI apologize, young master! I didn¡¯t mean to watch!¡±


    Before I could even process that, she went to bow. No¡ªsmash her forehead right into the floorboards.


    ¡°Whoa, hey¡ªstop that!¡± I shot a hand out, stopping her before she hurt herself. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do that! I was just asking a question!¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI apologize for apologizing, young master?¡± she stammered, her face still low, voice shaking.


    ¡­What?


    ¡°Okay. Okay. Just¡ªstop.¡± I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong, alright? Relax. I just want to talk.¡±


    She stayed frozen for a second longer, then slowly straightened up, eyes still fixed on the floor.


    ¡°So¡­ you saw what happened earlier, right?¡±


    Mari nodded quickly. ¡°Yes, young master!¡±


    ¡°Then you saw the black smoke from the physician¡¯s hand?¡±


    Her face shifted¡ªjust a flicker, but enough to set my nerves on edge. Like I¡¯d said something wrong. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.


    ¡°You mean your aunt, young master?¡±


    ¡­What?


    ¡°Aunt?¡± I repeated, the word tasting wrong in my mouth. ¡°Elowen¡¯s my aunt?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ªoh!¡± She paled. ¡°I apologize¡ªI forgot you¡¯re suffering from memory loss.¡±


    Right. Memory loss. Convenient excuse. I ran with it. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ fine. I was actually going to ask¡ª¡±


    But my thoughts snagged. Elowen. My aunt.


    That fierce, sharp-tongued woman with dark brown hair and eyes that looked like they saw right through you¡ªthat was family? She didn¡¯t exactly radiate warmth, but there was no denying she was a rare kind of beautiful. And if this kid¡¯s face took after her even a little¡­ well, it¡¯d explain some things.


    Not that I¡¯d seen my own face yet.


    Focus. Questions first. Existential crises later.


    ¡°Right, so¡­¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°That thing she did earlier¡ªdo you know what it was?¡±


    Mari tilted her head. ¡°What thing, young master?¡±


    ¡°The black smoke,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh! The toxins, you mean?¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah. That.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one of her skills, young master! It¡¯s part of her essence¡ªah, I forgot the name¡­ uh¡­ v¡­ vital! Yes, vital essence!¡±


    Vital essence. My mind immediately latched onto the word vital. In medical terms, it meant something critical for life¡ªlike breathing or a heartbeat. But paired with ¡°essence¡±? That was actually new.


    ¡°And what exactly is that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a type of magic, young master. Most physicians who practice magic use that kind of essence.¡±


    Magic.


    My breath stalled. My heart pounded harder, a rush of adrenaline flooding through me.


    Magic.


    Not tricks or illusions. Not sleight of hand. Real, honest-to-god magic.


    Did I even hear that right?


    I stared at Mari, and she stared back, wide-eyed and confused.


    But I didn¡¯t care. Because one word kept echoing in my head¡ªdizzying and impossible and everything.


    Magic. Magic. Magic.

 Chapter 5: The Girl in the Hallway

    Magic.


    The kind of thing you only ever saw in movies or read about in books¡ªalways a fantasy, always just out of reach. I¡¯d never believed in it, not really. But every time I got lost in those stories, my mind cracked open just a little¡ªjust enough to imagine endless possibilities.


    And God, did I need that escape. Those moments when the weight of reality slipped away, when the ache in my body faded, and the world felt a little less cruel.


    Even in my thirties, magic fascinated me. The sheer creativity it took to dream up those worlds, those powers¡ªI admired it. I envied it. Because no matter how much I wanted to believe, I knew better. Magic didn¡¯t exist. Not on Earth.


    But Earth wasn¡¯t probably where I was anymore.


    And as much as my rational side screamed at me to dismiss what Mari just said, there was a part of me¡ªsmall, dangerous¡ªthat believed her.


    Because if this really was another world¡­ then maybe the impossible wasn¡¯t so impossible after all.


    The black smoke. That strange power.


    Magic.


    A slow, disbelieving smirk tugged at my lips. ¡°Magic,¡± I whispered, the word foreign and thrilling on my tongue.


    When I glanced at Mari, she was staring at me like I¡¯d grown a second head. I couldn¡¯t really blame her¡ªI probably looked like a half-dead skeleton with a creepy-ass grin.


    An hour slipped by without me even noticing. The sun had crawled higher, painting the sky with soft gold¡ªprobably afternoon by now. Not that I could tell for sure. There wasn¡¯t a clock in sight, and my internal sense of time was about as reliable as my lungs had been back on Earth.


    Mari stayed by my side the whole time. Not that I needed her here. But¡­ I didn¡¯t hate it either. Having someone¡ªanyone¡ªin this strange, unfamiliar world was more comforting than I wanted to admit.


    The awkward part? We didn¡¯t have much to talk about. Or maybe I just didn¡¯t know how to talk to her. Every time I tried, it felt like tossing words into a void.


    I tested the waters with something simple. ¡°Ever heard of a cellphone?¡±


    She blinked at me like I¡¯d just spoken in tongues. ¡°A¡­ what young master?¡±


    Right. Okay. Maybe they didn¡¯t have cellphones here. Maybe it was some isolated, tech-barren country. Still weird, but not impossible.


    I tried again. ¡°How about a notebook?¡±


    That one had to land. Everyone knew what a notebook was.


    But no¡ªsame blank stare.


    And just like that, my last shreds of denial started circling the drain.


    First, I¡¯d been reborn. Then there was magic¡ªactual magic. And now everyday stuff from Earth didn¡¯t even exist here?


    I stopped asking after that. Partly because I didn¡¯t want to push my luck¡ªand partly because I wasn¡¯t sure how many more answers I could take.


    The silence stretched, thick and awkward. I was about to break it when the door creaked open.


    Elowen stepped in, her presence was undeniably scary.


    ¡°How¡¯s the feeling? Think you can walk now?¡±


    Her voice was light, almost teasing, but my eyes locked on the two long sticks she held¡ªeasily longer than her arms. What the hell were those for?


    Before I could ask, my brain snagged on something else¡ªthe fact that this woman was apparently this kid''s aunt. That took a second to process. Still, I managed to answer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ should I try?¡±


    ¡°You should,¡± she said with a grin. ¡°I¡¯ve cleared the toxins, and you¡¯ve bounced back faster than I expected. A week of unconsciousness, and you¡¯re already looking lively. It¡¯s surprising, honestly.¡±


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    Yeah. No kidding. Surprising didn¡¯t even cover it.


    Back on Earth, getting over a bad fever left you feeling wiped¡ªweak, shaky, like your body was made of lead. And that was just from a fever. I¡¯d been in a coma for a week. I should¡¯ve been a wreck. Barely able to sit up, let alone move. But aside from the dull ache in my muscles and a faint, gnawing pain in my stomach¡­ I felt fine.


    Too fine.


    ¡°I should try,¡± I said, pushing the thoughts aside. ¡°It¡¯s actually getting pretty tiring just lying here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s some confidence, bones.¡± Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she tossed the sticks onto the end of the bed. ¡°Alright¡ªuse these for now.¡±


    Bones. Great. That nickname was probably gonna stick.


    The sticks were¡­ familiar. It took my brain a second to catch up, but yeah¡ªcrutches. Or something close. They were made of wood, rough and sturdy, nothing like the polished hospital ones I remembered. More traditional. More primitive.


    ¡°You know what those are for?¡± Elowen asked, watching with that same easy grin while Mari moved to help me.


    I nodded slowly. ¡°For¡­ my arms?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for your walking, actually. But you¡¯re half right.¡±


    So they were crutches. More or less. The question was¡ªwould these things even hold up?


    Mari guided the sticks under my arms, gentle but firm. I thought about brushing her off and doing it myself¡ªuntil I actually felt the weight of them. They were heavier than they looked. Or maybe¡­ I was just weaker than I realized.


    ¡°Try to walk now, featherweight. And don¡¯t even think about kissing the floor,¡± Elowen teased.


    ¡°These are¡­ heavier than I thought,¡± I muttered, adjusting my grip.


    That got a laugh out of her. ¡°Heavier? That¡¯s just because you¡¯re all bones. You¡¯ll get used to it¡ªeventually.¡±


    Just what I wanted to hear.


    Still, I tried. One awkward shuffle of the stick. One step. Move the stick again. Another step. It wasn¡¯t my first time on crutches¡ªthere¡¯d been an accident back on Earth, and I¡¯d spent a week hobbling around on hospital-issued ones. But those had been lightweight, designed for convenience. These? These felt like they were carved straight out of a tree. Every movement was harder than it should¡¯ve been, the weight dragging me down, making my arms tremble.


    But I kept going.


    ¡°You¡¯re full of surprises, kiddo,¡± Elowen said, her tone halfway between impressed and amused. ¡°You¡¯re actually walking.¡±


    And was that¡­ clapping? I glanced over, and sure enough¡ªMari was smiling, softly applauding.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be flattered¡­ or a little embarrassed actually.


    ¡°That¡¯s it¡­ Keep practicing, and you¡¯ll be walking in no time. Mari, make sure he doesn¡¯t fall on his face, alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lady Elowen.¡±


    And just like that, she was gone again¡ªoff to handle whatever crisis was brewing in the estate. I didn¡¯t know the details, but from what Mari had told me and what I¡¯d seen earlier, Elowen was in high demand. Whatever was happening, it was probably¡­big.


    Not that I minded being left alone.


    Well, mostly alone. Mari stayed close, hovering and clapping like I was some toddler taking their first steps. It wasn¡¯t exactly the kind of audience I needed, but¡­ I got it. I¡¯d probably look pathetic too, if I were watching this.


    Still. Not my finest hour.


    It took me hours¡ªhours¡ªjust to get used to these crutches. The weight of the wood felt heavier every time I moved, and by the end of it, my arms and legs were burning. Ache settled deep into muscles I apparently hadn¡¯t used much in this frail, sickly body.


    And this was just the beginning.


    I still didn¡¯t know how I¡¯d been ¡°mysteriously healed¡± after blacking out, but whatever happened, it had Elowen curious enough to take a sample of my blood. And then she hit me with something once again¡ªa meal plan.


    A detailed meal plan.


    <hr>


    Morning Meal (Breakfast):


    Soft poached eggs with cream and herbs


    Freshly baked honeyed bread


    Steamed apples with cinnamon


    Warm goat¡¯s milk with a spoon of almond paste


    Mid-Morning Snack:


    Sweet nut and oat cakes


    Dried figs and dates


    Midday Meal (Lunch):


    Roast pheasant with herb-butter sauce


    Soft barley porridge with wild mushrooms


    Steamed spinach with crumbled cheese


    Berry cordial with crushed ice


    Afternoon Snack:


    Cheese and fruit platter


    Honey-glazed nuts


    Evening Meal (Dinner):


    Braised lamb with root vegetables


    Mashed pumpkin with cream and spices


    Buttered peas with fresh mint


    Warm spiced milk with a hint of vanilla


    Nighttime Tonic:


    Bone broth with medicinal herbs


    <hr>


    I stared at the list, torn between awe and exhaustion.


    I mean, I was an adult¡ªat least mentally¡ªand even I never put this much effort into what I ate. I grabbed whatever was convenient and called it a day. But this? This was something out of a royal feast.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t really argue. This body¡­ It was fragile. Underweight, maybe 22 kilograms soaking wet¡ªand that was far from normal. If I wanted to get back to this kid normal or more greater body, I¡¯d have to follow the plan.


    Even if half of these dishes sounded more like something off a fancy restaurant menu than a recovery diet.


    And how in the world had Elowen come up with all this just by looking at me? I didn¡¯t know much about medicine, but the woman had to be some kind of genius.


    For now, I was resting. Mari had gone off to grab a snack¡ªnot that I was hungry yet, but I didn¡¯t stop her. Eventually, I would be.


    ¡°How does time move this slow?¡± I muttered into the empty room.


    Silence answered back. Not surprising.


    My thoughts kept circling the drain, dragging me down with them. What happened to my real body¡ªmy original body? Was it lying there in my apartment, cold and empty? Did anyone even notice? Would the people from the building find me?


    Would I even get a proper funeral?


    The questions piled up, and underneath them, regret bloomed¡ªsharp and ugly.


    It¡¯s funny. When you¡¯re alive, regrets feel smaller¡ªlike background noise. You screw up, you wish you¡¯d done something different, but life keeps moving, so you do too. But when you''re about to die¡­?


    Every regret hits harder. Louder. More final.


    I didn¡¯t realize how many I had until it was too late.


    I wished I¡¯d built a better life¡ªbetter connections, better reputation. I wished I¡¯d learned more, done more, been more. And the worst part? I could¡¯ve. There were people who managed it¡ªwho balanced work, self-care, relationships, and passion. People who loved what they did and made something out of their lives.


    Even the ones who hated their jobs but still gave it everything they had¡ªthey deserved respect too.


    And me? What did I ever do?


    Was I ever more than just¡­ average? A guy who worked, went home, slept, and did it all again? Did I ever leave anything behind worth remembering?


    Did I even admire myself?


    Did I?


    BANG!


    The sharp crack of something breaking jolted me out of my thoughts and questions. The sound came from just outside the room¡ªloud and sudden.


    ¡°What is it this time?¡± I muttered, pushing myself up and grabbing the crutches for support. My legs still felt like lead, but at least they held. Mostly.


    That sound¡ªsomething breaking. A vase? Glass? I¡¯d heard it before.


    Curiosity won out. Of course it did. It always does.


    I hobbled to the door, every step slow and awkward, the crutches digging into my palms. Even getting the damn door open was harder than it should¡¯ve been¡ªstiff hinges groaning in protest.


    And when it finally swung wide¡ª


    There she was.


    A girl. Standing just a few feet away, framed perfectly in the dim hallway light.


    She didn¡¯t look up right away¡ªher eyes were fixed on the shards of a shattered vase at her feet. Hands trembling. But her face? Calm. The kind of calm that felt practiced.


    Jet-black hair, sharp and straight, brushing just above her shoulders. Pale gray eyes¡ªcold, unreadable. Her clothes were dark, trimmed with silver¡ªexpensive, tailored.


    She couldn¡¯t have been more than eleven.


    My mouth opened¡ªhers did too.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    The words collided, hanging awkwardly in the air.


    Our eyes met. And in that second, one thing became crystal clear:


    This kid? She was either going to be a headache or a headache.

 Chapter 6: Where Snow Falls, Secrets Bloom

    There were a lot of weird things about this moment¡ªand that was saying something, considering my life had already gone completely off the rails.


    First, the kid.


    I stepped out into the hallway, the crutches clicking against the polished floor, and took my first good look at her. She was definitely the one who broke the vase¡ªwhat was left of it, anyway.


    Which begged the question¡ªwhat was a kid like her doing here?


    The hallway itself was something out of a museum. Tall and narrow, lined with red-orange walls threaded with silver patterns. Paintings hung in ornate frames, the kind that looked older than me¡ªhell, maybe older than my past life. Statues stood on carved pedestals, and vases just like the one she broke were spaced along the corridor. I guess one finally went off.


    But I kept coming back to her.


    The way she held herself, the control in her expression¡ªit didn¡¯t match the small, fragile frame. Still, she was shorter than me, just by a little.


    And then she spoke.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Her voice was soft but steady, and I could see the flicker of surprise in her pale gray eyes as she really looked at me¡ªup and down, taking in the gaunt frame, the way my clothes hung loose. Yeah, I probably did look like a skeleton.


    But I was more interested in the fact that she wasn¡¯t running.


    "I¡¯m the one who should be asking what you¡¯re doing here," I said, leaning on my crutches.


    The girl didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she dusted off her dress with this slow, deliberate motion.


    "Are you perhaps a servant?" she asked, ignoring my question entirely.


    "Am I?" I waved a crutch. "Unless this is the new uniform, I¡¯d start firing people."


    But I knew, I probably looked like a zombie in my current state.


    Then the corner of her mouth twitched ¡ª almost a smile, but not quite. ¡°No. You don¡¯t speak like one.¡±


    "Hey ki¨C Who are you?"


    ¡°You don¡¯t know me? Hm. That¡¯s rare.¡±


    She said.


    Before I could push more, I heard the frantic shuffle of footsteps¡ªMari, rushing toward us with a tray of food. The thing wobbled dangerously, and for a second, I thought we were about to have two broken things in this hallway.


    "Young master!" Mari¡¯s voice was a mix of relief and panic.


    And that¡¯s when the girl¡¯s head tilted ever so slightly. "Young master?" she echoed, her pale gray eyes flicking between me and Mari with something that looked suspiciously like curiosity.


    Mari, bless her, finally seemed to register the other person in the hallway. Her eyes went wide. "Oh! Young lady! Pardon me!" She dipped into a hurried bow, nearly sending the tray toppling again.


    Young lady?


    I stared at the girl. The expensive clothes made sense now¡ªthe dark fabric with those silver hints, the air of practiced calm. I should¡¯ve guessed. Nobility. Or something close to it. I wasn¡¯t sure yet. But the way Mari practically folded in half meant this kid had standing. And power.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The girl raised a hand¡ªjust a slight motion, barely any effort. "It¡¯s fine. Perhaps you should check on him¡± she paused pointing at me.


    She glanced at me¡ªjust for a second. Our eyes met. I didn¡¯t look away.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I muttered, dragging the moment out, ¡°we should focus on that vase.¡± I pointed at the shattered mess on the ground.


    Mari jumped in. ¡°It¡¯s fine, young master! The young lady didn¡¯t have anything to do with it. Let¡¯s¡­ let¡¯s just pretend I broke it.¡± She smiled, but her voice shook around the edges.


    I raised a brow. ¡°That would cause trouble.¡±


    Before Mari could respond, the girl spoke.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± she said, her voice calm. ¡°Worry not.¡±


    She bowed ¡ª just a slight dip of her head ¡ª and I saw it. The practiced grace, the restraint. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.


    Well. That was¡­ something.


    First, she broke a vase. Then she bowed like she was issuing a formal apology. And now she was walking off like none of it mattered.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what it was about her ¡ª the way she carried herself, the calm in her voice ¡ª but there was something strange there. Unusual. Especially for someone her age.


    As Mari set the tray inside and started sweeping up the broken glass, I stayed outside, moving toward the window the girl had been so focused on earlier.


    ¡°She¡¯s weird,¡± I muttered, my eyes drifting to the view outside ¡ª and widening when I saw the snow. Soft, white flakes drifted down, covering the grounds in a pale, perfect sheet.


    When did that happen?


    ¡°Same age as you, young master,¡± Mari said from behind me.


    I barely heard her. My attention stayed fixed on the landscape ¡ª the huge, ornate gate, the stones, and beyond that¡­ the back of the estate. A massive tree stood there, its bare branches dusted with snow. And the ground ¡ª streaked with dark, disturbed patches. Snow dirt.


    ¡°I guess so,¡± I murmured, still watching.


    ¡°Oh! The food¡¯s inside, young master. You should eat before it gets cold.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. In a minute.¡± I didn¡¯t move. ¡°Just want to look a little longer.¡±


    Snow, huh?


    ¡°Is it winter already?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Winter?¡± Mari echoed, like I¡¯d said something strange.


    I turned to her. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s snow outside, in case you didn¡¯t notice.¡± I gestured toward the window.


    ¡°Oh¡ªno, young master. Our region stays in winter most of the year.¡±


    ¡­What?


    I clicked my tongue, turning back to the window. That would¡¯ve been nice to know. But I wonder why I hadn¡¯t felt the cold ¡ª the estate must¡¯ve been designed to keep it out.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I cleared my throat, shaking off the surprise. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry. My mind¡¯s a bit of a mess.¡±


    Winter most of the year huh?? that sounds extremely interesting one for sure¡­


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable, young master.¡± Mari¡¯s voice softened. ¡°If there¡¯s anything bothering you, you can always ask me. I¡¯d gladly help.¡±


    I nodded, forcing a small smile.


    But my thoughts stayed outside and on the girl.


    Before she walked away¡­ she¡¯d been staring at the sky. At a patch of dark clouds gathering on the horizon.


    A storm was¡­coming.


    Eventually, I made my way back to my room. I couldn¡¯t believe how fast I was getting used to these crutches ¡ª and the fact that all of this had happened in just one day.


    ¡°This is so filling,¡± I muttered, slumping back in my chair as I finished off the last bite. Mari stood nearby, watching me like she expected me to collapse from overeating.


    ¡°That was prepared by our head chef, young master,¡± she said, sounding more proud of the meal than the person who cooked it probably was.


    ¡°Really?¡± I paused, glancing down at the half-finished roast pheasant. ¡°You want some?¡± I held out a piece without thinking.


    Mari went stiff. ¡°No¡ªno! Young master, it¡¯s for you!¡±


    Right. Sharing meals with the staff probably wasn¡¯t a noble thing to do. Just like cracking jokes or refusing to act like I was better than everyone else. There were¡­ expectations. Even if those expectations made me feel like I was losing a piece of myself.


    Still. I forced her by saying that I hated eating alone.


    ¡°Come on, Mari. I hate eating alone. And I¡¯m not gonna bite ¡ª unless you try to take the last drumstick.¡± I said, offering the plate again.


    ¡°B-but, young master¡ª¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± I shoved a drumstick toward her. ¡°It¡¯s delicious. I¡¯m probably gonna be looking forward to every meal at this rate.¡±


    She stared at me. Then, slowly, she reached out and took the drumstick.


    ¡°T-thank you, young master,¡± she whispered.


    I sat there, working my way through the food, and the thought hit me ¡ª I was basically a baby in this world. Starting over from zero. Learning everything from scratch.


    Didn¡¯t sound great at first. But the more I thought about it, the more¡­ interesting it seemed. A fresh start. A chance to rebuild, to live. And once I had the strength ¡ª the real kind ¡ª I¡¯d have to consume every bit of knowledge this world had to offer.


    But for now, I was stuck here. In this room. Bored out of my mind.


    Maybe I should just jump out the window and run away.


    ¡­Kidding. Mostly.


    The silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of me chewing. It was peaceful ¡ª right up until the knock at the door.


    Mari was on her feet instantly, hurrying over.


    I half-expected Elowen. That woman had been my main point of contact so far, and honestly, I was kind of getting used to her looming presence.


    But when the door opened ¡ª no Elowen.


    Instead, there was a girl.


    She was small. Young. Long, wavy dark-brown hair spilled past her shoulders, framing a face dominated by huge, golden eyes. And there ¡ª on her right jawline ¡ª a scar. Faint but unmistakable.


    ¡°Young miss. what brings you here?¡±


    She stood at the door, eyes bright and unreasonably confident. "I¡¯m visiting my brother. Aunt Elowen told me he woke up."


    ¡­What?


    Did I hear that right? "Brother"?


    My brain stalled. There was no way. That little gremlin¡ªmy sibling? No, I definitely didn¡¯t mishear it. She said it clear as day.


    Mari glanced at me, waiting for my reaction. I sighed. "Let her in, Mari."


    So this kid was my sister. A younger one, by the looks of it. Their relationship must¡¯ve been close if she was this eager to visit. And yet¡­ there was this weird familiarity I couldn¡¯t shake¡ªlike I did know her. Probably the remnants of this body¡¯s memories bleeding through.


    Before I could figure out how I felt about that, she rushed forward¡ªno hesitation, no decorum, just full-speed running.


    "Hey!" I started, but it was too late.


    "Young miss, wait¡ª!" Mari tried, but she didn¡¯t stand a chance either.


    The kid launched herself like a human projectile and tackled me right in the stomach. Hard.


    I swear I heard something crack.


    "Hey, brother!" she chirped, sprawled across my midsection. Then¡ªbecause clearly this situation wasn¡¯t absurd enough¡ªshe let out a high-pitched "Woooah!" that made my ears ring.


    "Young miss, take it easy!" Mari pleaded, trying to pry her off before she finished the job of killing me.


    The little menace grinned up at me. "You look like a plucked chicken, big brother!"


    ¡­Yeah, kiddo. I agree.


    So how about you stop aggressively crushing my ribs and get the hell off me?!