The sunlight touched my skin before I even opened my eyes.
It was warm, gentle, a slow invitation pulling me out of sleep. I stirred, my body heavier than I expected, though it wasn't the same exhaustion I used to feel back at the hostel. This was different—like my body was adjusting, changing in ways I couldn't yet understand.
I blinked my eyes open, staring at the bright ceiling above me. The walls glowed faintly under the morning light, the entire room alive with brightness. Slowly, I pushed myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The sheets slid away from my body, smooth and light against my skin.
For a few moments, I simply sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the faint hum of the city outside. My ears picked up the distant sounds of cars, horns, voices blending into a low symphony of morning life. This was a new world. My new world.
I rose and walked toward the bathroom. The tiles were cool under my bare feet, and as I turned the tap, water splashed into the sink with a crisp sound. I cupped my hands, letting the coldness refresh my face. The sensation grounded me, washing away the last remnants of sleep.
Then, lifting my head, I froze.
The mirror showed me a reflection that wasn't entirely the same as yesterday.
At first, I thought the light was playing tricks. But no—when I leaned closer, the truth was clear.
Some strands of my hair had turned golden, faint but unmistakable. They glinted softly, catching the morning light like threads of sunlight woven into the brown. My heart gave a quick jolt. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on them carefully. The color was real. It wasn't a reflection.
And then, my gaze shifted.
My eyes.
The brown still remained, but within it, faint streaks of gold shimmered. Barely noticeable at first glance, but when looked at directly, they were there—subtle, yet undeniable.
My throat tightened.
I reached up, running my fingers through my hair, touching the strands as if to confirm they weren't illusions. But they didn't vanish. My hair truly had changed. My eyes too.
"How…?" I whispered to myself.
I didn't need the answer. Deep inside, I already knew.
The gifts.
The Kavach and Kundal. The divine bow etched into my soul.
It had to be connected.
My body was no longer entirely human. It was carrying the weight of powers beyond this world, and something about that had left its mark.
A part of me worried. People would notice. But almost immediately, I calmed myself. Hair dye existed. People colored their hair every week without anyone questioning it. Golden streaks would hardly draw attention in a city like this. My eyes were even less of a problem—the gold shimmer was faint, hidden within the brown. Unless someone stared deeply into them, it would pass unnoticed.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the sink with both hands. This was manageable.
I finished washing, brushed my teeth, and splashed my face once more before stepping back into the bedroom. The golden hair caught the light again as I moved, but I forced myself not to linger on it. It was part of me now.
I walked into the living room.
The space greeted me with modern elegance. Wooden shelves stretched along one wall, filled with books and neatly arranged decorations. The kitchen gleamed with polished steel, its wooden cabinets glowing warmly under the morning sun. At the center, the broad table stood proud, a bowl of fruit resting atop it, bright colors vivid against the wood.
I pulled out a chair and sat down, reaching for the bread on the counter. My hand moved with instinct that didn't fully feel like mine—my parallel self's habits guiding me. I spread butter across a slice, the knife gliding smoothly, and took a bite. The taste was simple, yet soft, richer than anything I'd eaten before in my old life.
I poured myself a glass of fruit juice. The cool liquid slid down my throat, sweet and refreshing. It anchored me in the present moment, each sip reminding me this was real. This was no dream.
The sunlight flooded the living room as I ate quietly, finishing my bread and draining the glass. Every corner of the apartment radiated wealth and comfort. A part of me still struggled to accept it. Only yesterday, I had lived in silence, in a world of dust and cheap food. Now I sat here, surrounded by everything I had once thought unreachable.
When I finished, I rose, placing the plate and glass in the sink. My footsteps echoed lightly as I crossed to the door.
Today, I had school.
Peter Parker's message from last night still lingered in my mind. The assignment. The reminder. It was strange—after everything I had learned, after testing powers that could defy death, here I was, preparing to go to school like any other student.
I stepped into the elevator. The ride down was smooth, quiet. My reflection stared back faintly in the mirrored panel—hair with golden streaks, eyes with faint shimmer, and golden earrings glinting subtly.
The doors opened.
The underground garage stretched before me, cool and wide, filled with neatly parked cars. My gaze swept across until it landed on one—sleek, black, elegant. A Mercedes.
I walked toward it, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. My hand brushed across its surface—it was smooth, perfectly polished, reflecting the overhead lights.
For a brief second, I hesitated. In my old life, I had never even touched such a car. But as I opened the door and slid into the seat, my body moved naturally. My hands gripped the steering wheel like they had always done so. Memories surfaced—not mine, but my parallel self's. He had driven this countless times. His instincts were mine now.
The leather seat embraced me, firm yet comfortable. I adjusted the mirror, fastened the seatbelt, and placed the key in the ignition.
With a twist, the engine roared to life. Smooth. Deep. Powerful.
I pressed my foot gently against the pedal. The car glided forward, leaving its spot with effortless grace.
As I steered toward the exit, the faint glow of the morning sun greeted me again, spilling into the garage as the gates opened.
The city waited beyond.
I tightened my grip on the wheel.
And drove toward school.