The next day, Ansh was finally woken by the sound of his mother knocking on the door.
But the moment he opened his eyes, something felt terribly wrong. Why was there a white wall right in front of him? And… was that a wall lamp? Wait—that wasn't the wall at all. That was the ceiling of his room.
Blinking the haze from his eyes, he turned his head—and froze.
His hands and feet were clinging tightly to the ceiling, his entire body hanging high above the bed. The realization sent a jolt of shock through him.
"Ah!"
Startled, his arms and legs slipped free, and he plummeted toward the bed below.
In panic, he instinctively thrust out a hand.
Whoosh!
From his wrist, a faint golden thread of light shot forth, thin as silk yet gleaming like crystal.
Bang!
One end of the shining thread stuck firmly to the ceiling. Ansh gripped the strand with both hands, and to his disbelief, his falling body came to an abrupt halt. He dangled there in mid-air, suspended by the luminous thread.
When Ansh walked out of his room and stood at the bathroom sink, he had finally calmed down from the shock in his heart.
He had thought it impossible for him to control the glowing threads he had seen before, yet last night the ability had suddenly awakened on its own.
Now, it felt as if the seal had given him a new power—something mysterious, something real. His strength and senses were sharper, his body no longer sluggish, and the golden threads responded to his will. And when he glanced at his wrist, he noticed that the lotus-shaped mark had changed once more. Where yesterday only one petal had glowed, now a second petal had faintly lit up.
The first time the lotus stirred, his strength had grown and the heaviness in his body had faded.
The second time, his unhealthy skin and dull eyes had begun to shed and clear.
And now, with the third change, the luminous threads had awakened.
Ansh began to realize that the lotus seal might represent his progression. Each time it shifted, a new petal glowed, and with it, another ability was unlocked. Little by little, he was becoming stronger.
After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Ansh looked at himself in the mirror. The dullness that had clouded his features seemed lighter now. The dark circles under his eyes had faded, his skin looked healthier, and even the tired, lifeless expression he had carried for months was softening. Perhaps after shedding his skin a few more times, he might restore the sharp, clear look he once had—and maybe even look better than before.
"A blessing in disguise… maybe that's what this really is," Ansh murmured to himself, gently touching his cheek as a faint smile crossed his reflection
He walked out of the bathroom and headed to the dining table, where his parents were already seated, waiting for him to join them for breakfast.
Ansh's father was an ordinary man who worked long hours at a construction firm, yet he maintained the simple habit of reading the newspaper every morning before leaving for work. When he saw Ansh walking over with a brighter expression than usual, he couldn't help but glance at his son a few more times.
The truth was, the relationship between father and son had been strained over the past year. Watching Ansh sink into exhaustion and listlessness day after day, his father had taken him to the hospital more than once. But the results always came back normal. Combined with whispers from relatives and neighbors, he had begun to believe that Ansh simply didn't want to study anymore. As a result, his words toward his son had often turned into harsh scolding.
Ansh was at the age where small disagreements often turned into arguments, and over the past year, the constant exhaustion and his parents' lack of understanding had only made things worse. He often quarreled with his father, leaving the atmosphere in the house tense.
But today felt different.
"Mom, Dad, good morning." Ansh sat at the table with a genuine smile, his tone cheerful and light.
Both his parents froze for a moment, exchanging surprised glances. They had watched him drag himself out of bed every morning for the past year—yawning, listless, barely able to eat. If not for the hospital's repeated assurances, they might have believed the gossip that their son had fallen into bad habits.
Yet today, not only did his energy seem better, he even greeted them first, as though he had gone back to being the thoughtful, well-behaved boy they remembered.
His mother's heart instantly softened. Smiling, she scooped a little warm suji halwa into his bowl and said gently, "Eat more, beta. You've lost weight."
"Mm. And you both should have some too," Ansh replied with a smile, taking the spoon and serving a portion of halwa into his parents' bowls as well.
The atmosphere at the table suddenly felt warm and cozy. Ansh's mother's eyes grew slightly moist, as if she wanted to cry but held it back. She was simply happy to see her son acting sensible again.
His father's hand, holding the spoon, trembled faintly. A flicker of relief flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked it, keeping a stern face. He only gave a short nod and lowered his head, sipping at his porridge.
Watching them, Ansh felt a wave of guilt. He knew he had been difficult over the past year. Though much of it had been beyond his control, his parents had always cared for him. His coldness and arguments had been unfair. From today, he promised himself, things would be different.
"Hey, Ansh, your skin looks clearer today," his mother suddenly exclaimed, noticing the changes in his face. "It seems the remedies I gave you before are working. I'll get some more later."
Ansh didn't correct her. He only smiled and nodded softly. "Thank you, Mom."
His father glanced at him once more, but said nothing. He simply turned another page of the newspaper and quietly finished his breakfast.
***
"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving for school."
After breakfast, Ansh slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, opened the door, and called out his goodbye.
"Alright, son, come back early after class," his mother replied while tidying up the plates in the kitchen.
Once the door closed behind him, his father's stern face finally softened into a small smile. His mother caught it immediately and gave him an exasperated look. "At least once, you could show that smile to him instead of scolding all the time."
"What do you know?" his father said in a firm tone, folding his newspaper. "If I don't stay strict, the boy will get spoiled. A father has to be firm if he wants his son to grow up straight."