Class dragged on, but Kuro barely noticed the lecture. He sat still, staring at the open book on his desk, though his eyes weren't really reading. The words blurred into shapes he couldn't focus on. His head felt heavy, chest hollow, the echo of Eryndor's insults still replaying.
"Mutt.""Slave.""Worthless."
Different words. Same sharp edge. Just like before.
His father's voice slipped into his head, uninvited, poisonous as always: "You're a waste of space. Should've never been born."
Kuro's stomach twisted. The classroom felt smaller, tighter, like the air was pressing down on him. He wanted to push it all away, but the emptiness just swallowed him whole.
{It's the same… no matter where I go. Even in another life, I can't escape it.}
[The f*** you talking about, elf boy? Escape what?]
{…People like him. People who look at me like I'm less. Like I don't deserve to be here.}
[Oh, for crying out loud. Listen to me—Eryndor's insults? Pathetic. If insults were food, that d*** would starve to death. He's got nothing on you. At least your old man put some venom in it. This guy? Bargain-bin bully with a face only a donkey could love.]
Kuro blinked. The corner of his mouth almost tugged upward despite himself.
{…That's not funny.}
[No, seriously. His jawline? Looks like it lost a fight with a shovel. And don't even get me started on his hair—it's like his barber sneezed mid-cut. People only laugh at his jokes because his family could probably buy their houses twice over.]
Kuro's shoulders shook slightly—not from sadness this time, but from holding back a laugh. It felt strange, foreign. A laugh trying to break through the fog.
Mika, sitting beside him, turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing. He had caught every word of that silent exchange.
"…Kuro." His voice was quiet but sharp, like he was threading a needle. "What do you mean 'even in another life'?"
Kuro stiffened. His fingers froze against the desk. He hadn't realized the words slipped out loud enough for Mika to catch.
{…S***.}
[Ohhh boy. You just spilled some reincarnation tea, elf boy. Congrats.]
Kuro shook his head quickly, forcing a small, nervous smile. "N-nothing. Just… you know. A figure of speech."
Mika didn't look convinced. His pale eyes lingered on him a moment too long, like he was seeing past the mask Kuro was trying to keep up.
Inside, Kuro's chest ached again. Emptiness. Sadness. A hollowness he didn't know how to explain.
[Oi. Don't you dare sink back down into that hole. You're not alone now, got it? You've got Mr. Ice-Prince over there glaring daggers at every word Eryndor says. And Lucien? Dude's practically shining like some knight from a bad romance novel. You? You've got more backup than a spoiled prince at a duel.]
Kuro's lips parted, like he wanted to argue—but stopped. Maybe Elvastia was right. Maybe… maybe he wasn't completely alone.
For the first time, the emptiness didn't feel infinite. It was still there, still heavy, but cracks of light pushed through. And Mika, quietly watching, noticed it. He didn't say anything. But his clenched fists under the desk spoke enough.