At that moment, Kael saw the silhouette of a corrugated tin roof—a shape he knew all too well.
It was the kind of ceiling that didn't quite belong in this world. Not in the world where he was Kael Vyle.
But for Lucas Gray, it was familiar.
That's my home.
Or at least, the home he'd once had when he was a child.
Lucas found his hand moving, writing down something on paper—complex arithmetic, far too advanced for any ten-year-old.
Once he'd double-checked all his answers, he passed the sheet to a woman sitting nearby.
Faint lines on her pale cheeks betrayed just how tired she was, but she still managed to smile. A smile that, to Lucas, was the most graceful he'd ever seen.
"How's this?" he asked.
The woman examined the page, nodding now and then, even chuckling lightly. "Not bad."
Lucas frowned. "Not bad? Does that mean I got some wrong?"
"Well… if I had to score it, probably a 4 out of 10."
Little Lucas slumped in defeat. "So I didn't even get half of it right …"
"I'm afraid not." But seeing his pout deepen, the woman reached over, gently tousling his hair. "But hey, you tried, like really hard. That's what matters. Think of it this way—from 2 out of 10 to 4. That's not bad progress, right?"
"Still not good either," Lucas grumbled.
"Maybe not. But progress is progress, isn't it?" she said with a grin. And at last, Lucas smiled back.
It was a moment that could've lasted forever.
But then, the jarring sound of a phone began to ring. Over and over again.
The woman reached into the bag beside the table and pulled out her phone.
If you weren't paying attention, you might have missed it—the subtle shift in her expression as she looked at the screen.
"Who is it?" Lucas asked, scooting closer.
But the woman gently stepped back, smiling.
"Just work stuff. Something urgent came up."
As she began gathering her things, Lucas murmured, "So … you're leaving again?"
"Don't worry. I won't be out late." She crouched down, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Your dad's coming home soon, right? I'll order something for dinner."
"No need. He said he's cooking tonight."
"Oh really? Since when can he cook?"
"Since last week. But honestly…" Lucas mimed gagging, making her laugh.
"Got it, got it. Just text me if it's still terrible. I'll send over a pizza."
"Yay!" Lucas giggled.
Just before she left, she turned around. Her smile grew a little tighter, her eyes softening.
"Lucas?" she said gently.
"Hm?"
She paused. Turned her gaze away. As if whatever she wanted to say was too heavy to just spit out.
Then, with a long breath, she said quietly,
"Take care of yourself, okay?"
The door opened. And she was gone—swallowed by the shadows beyond the threshold.
#
Kael blinked slowly.
He hadn't thought about it before, but when your heart and your body hurt at the same time, does one simply shut down to let the other suffer?
That's how it felt now.
Pain was still very much there. A pulsing throb in the back of his head. Blurred vision.
If this world works like his previous one, the thing staring down at him wouldn't be a canopy bed—it'd be the smirking face of a demon from hell.
Worse still, his right hand burned like it was dipped in acid.
All thanks to Renwick and Gideon..
If he'd been an ordinary person, the vessels in his skull would've burst. His bones cracked open like cheap wood.
And even if that didn't kill him, the bleeding from his thumb being practically hacked off might've done the job.
But someone had found him first—somehow—and patched him up just enough to stay alive.
That someone now sat slumped in a chair beside his bed, asleep.
Ellaria.
Kael clicked his tongue—only to immediately regret it as pain shot through his face.
Pathetic.
He remembered all too well how Kael, the original, treated her.
It was a mess.
Slaps. Punches. Cruel punishments over the most trivial mistakes.
In the original timeline, this whole thing—the fight with Gideon—never happened. The beatdown, the broken body? None of it. Kael wasn't supposed to be this shattered… not until Samael beat him again, a second time.
So maybe now's a good time to die.
Honestly, the thought wasn't so terrible.
His entire body was screaming in steady, agonizing rhythms.
Burning. Aching. Throbbing.
Even the smallest movement sent waves of pain across his nerves. Kael began trembling—an involuntary reflex.
A tremble that didn't go unnoticed.
Ellaria stirred, her eyes fluttering open, revealing tired gray irises.
The moment she saw him, she bolted upright. "Young Master!"
Still unsure if she was dreaming, she rubbed her eyes again. "You're awake?"
When there was no response, she stood up. "I-I'll get Mr. Hazu."
Kael grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
That motion alone took a herculean effort and multiplied his pain tenfold. His eyes went wide. "D-Don't," he gasped.
Ellaria glanced at his hand, then back to him. "Don't?"
Kael didn't answer—just closed his eyes. Hoping that would be enough of a yes.
She hesitated … but finally returned to her seat, still watching him with worry.
"H-how… long?" Kael muttered after a few seconds of silence.
"Eh? Um … about two days, I think." She scratched her cheek awkwardly. "I-I'm sorry I wasn't there. If only I'd gotten to you sooner …"
So you could watch and enjoy every second of my suffering?
Still … her words unsettled him.
Two days unconscious—maybe more. That meant the Dream of Fate ceremony had already passed.
Did I miss my chance to obtain Origin Magic?
Kael wanted to punch something—but his body wouldn't even let him ball a fist.
Those bastards.
He'd make them pay. Tenfold. A thousandfold.
Once I recover.
But when?
Even with this world's technology and magical treatment, full recovery would take at least a month.
Luckily, he'd told Ellaria beforehand to grab that item from the infirmary.
He turned toward her, breathing shallow. "You… got it?"
Ellaria blinked, struggling to recall what he meant.
He had to spell it out. "The potion."
"Oh—um, right!" she scratched her neck. "So, I tried asking the infirmary staff … and, well, as expected, they really didn't want to hand it over. I mentioned your father's name for authorization, but …"
She gulped and closed her eyes.
Kael felt a sense of dread.
"It didn't work."
His soul deflated.
All he'd asked for was a health potion. Something to recover from Samael's earlier beating—not even this one. He just hated walking around looking like a swollen corpse.
That potion would've been priceless right now.
But it made sense. Health potions were rare, expensive, and tightly regulated. No way the academy would waste one on a troublemaker like him.
That's why he'd tried to use Edwyn Vyle's name—his father in this world—as leverage.
And that didn't even work?
Has Edwyn Vyle lost all his pull… or was he never influential to begin with?
"T-That said, Young Master… this might not be much, but Mr. Hazu felt bad about what happened to you, so he recommended … another potion."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"It's something he developed himself. But… it's experimental. The side effects could be serious. It might even make things worse."
"What's… it called?"
Ellaria met his gaze, as if asking one last time if he was sure.
Then she exhaled.
"Anesthesia."