Inside the room, Theodore wasn't asleep.
He sat cross-legged, both hands resting open on his knees, his eyes gently closed.
This time, he could see the memories of the body's previous owner—allowing all that knowledge and experience to become his own.
Once he had absorbed everything, Theodore began trying to draw in the natural energy around him—to make it his own.
It took a long time, far longer than he expected.
His weak body struggled; for hours, he could sense no progress at all.
Only near dawn did he finally begin to feel the faint flow of nature's energy entering his body.
Yet, the body was still too fragile to accept it fully.
Theodore opened his eyes, sighing in frustration.
"Damn it, this body is too weak!" he muttered, unable to understand why fate had given him such a frail vessel.
He rose to his feet and stared at himself in the mirror.
The reflection showed a young man with black hair and red eyes.
His body was thin—almost sickly—and he grimaced at the sight.
Touching the back of his short hair, he frowned in thought.
"The hair's too short," he murmured.
He had once possessed long, flowing hair—beautiful enough to rival that of a maiden.
In his time, short-haired men were almost unheard of.
"Well, it'll grow out eventually. I'd better focus on strengthening this body first," he said quietly, glancing down at his frail frame.
He no longer felt sleepy, even though dawn was approaching.
Dropping to the floor, Theodore began doing push-ups to train his weak body.
But after only a few repetitions, his arms trembled, and he collapsed, panting.
"Pathetic… truly pathetic," he growled once again, until the first rays of sunlight crept through the window.
"Kak Theo! It's morning! Come on, get up, eat breakfast, and get ready for school!"
Allita's cheerful voice came from outside the door.
"Good morning, Allita," Theodore greeted as he stepped out of his room already dressed in his school uniform.
He sat down beside her at the table, where a simple breakfast awaited.
"Where's Mom?" Theodore asked, not seeing their mother around.
"Oh, come on, Brother. You know she left for work half an hour ago—same as always," Allita replied.
Theodore nodded several times.
Their mother, Bailey, was a single parent who had raised her two children alone since her husband's death four years ago.
She worked as a maid for a wealthy family not far from their small home.
And the son of that family—their employer's only child—was the same person who had beaten Theodore half to death the night before.
After breakfast, Theodore walked to school with Allita.
He was in his final year of middle school, while Allita was still in her first.
Their mother worked tirelessly to pay their tuition, though there were months when they couldn't afford to pay at all.
"I need to come up with a plan," Theodore muttered as they walked, his mind deep in thought.
The memory of last night's assault burned vividly in his mind, and part of him longed for revenge.
But he couldn't act recklessly—not when the culprit was the only son of his mother's employer.
"What are you mumbling about, Brother?" Allita asked, looking up at him curiously.
"Ah, it's nothing," Theodore replied with a faint smile.
Soon they reached the point where they parted ways for their separate schools.
Allita waved her hand and ran toward her friends, chatting happily as she joined them.
"I hope that little girl never gets bullied," Theodore whispered softly before continuing his walk.
Not long after, he arrived at the school gates and sighed quietly.
He still found it strange to be living a life like this.
"Theo! Good morning!"
A round-faced boy with a cheerful grin waved at him.
It was Wisley, Theodore's close friend.
Wisley wasn't rich, but he was one of the few students kind enough to treat Theodore decently.
In this school, Theodore was known as the poorest boy—someone most others avoided.
"Oh, Wisley. Good morning," Theodore greeted back with a small smile.
"Look at you, Theo! You came to school all bruised up again," Wisley said with concern.
"Let me guess… Leaman, right?" he asked, frowning.
Theodore simply nodded, which shocked Wisley.
"What? You're actually admitting it?"
Theodore looked at him, puzzled. "What's wrong?"
"It's just… you've never been this honest before," Wisley muttered, still surprised.
"Usually, you'd say something like, 'No, it's fine, it wasn't him.' You liar! I've always known those jerks were behind it."
"Oh, really?" Theodore replied calmly. "Well, I suppose I'll have to deal with them… later."
Wisley stopped in his tracks, staring at him in disbelief.
"Are you okay, Theo?" he asked, pressing a hand to Theodore's forehead.
"You don't have a fever…"
"What's wrong?" Theodore asked, brushing his hand away.
"Since when do you talk about fighting back? You know that could get your mom in trouble—she works for Leaman's family, remember? Come on, man, don't make things worse," Wisley pleaded.
He knew Theodore had every right to be angry—but retaliation could put his mother's job in danger.
Bailey didn't even know her son was being bullied; she always assumed he got into fights on his own, thinking he was a troublesome boy.
Theodore patted Wisley's shoulder lightly. "Relax. I'm not that foolish."
"Theodore! Wisley! Good morning!"
A girl's voice called out brightly.
A beautiful blonde-haired girl stepped out of a sleek car, her fair skin almost glowing under the morning sun.
It was Shiny, the only wealthy student who treated Theodore as a friend—and one of the most admired girls in school.
"Good morning," Theodore greeted her casually.
"You two seem busy this morning," Shiny said with a smile, noticing their conversation.
"Not really," Theodore replied in his calm tone.
Wisley leaned closer, whispering, though still loud enough for Theodore to hear.
"Something's off about him, Shiny. Look—he's all beat up again. It must've been Leaman."
"I know, right?" Shiny whispered back. "And look at how calm he is! That's so not Theo…"
"I'm telling you, he admitted it was Leaman this time," Wisley said honestly.
Theodore watched them quietly, expression unreadable.
"That jerk Leaman! I swear I'll teach him a lesson for hurting you again! How long are you going to let him get away with it?"
Shiny's pretty face hardened with anger as she clenched her fist dramatically.
"Don't dirty your hands, Shiny. It doesn't suit you," Theodore replied coolly.
"Eh?" Shiny froze, blinking in confusion. "Uh… fine, if you say so."
She glanced at Wisley, who only shrugged helplessly.
"It's time for class," Theodore said, walking ahead of them.
Wisley and Shiny exchanged one last look before following him.
Shiny entered Class 3-A, while Theodore and Wisley went to Class 3-B.
Shiny waved cheerfully before heading in.
As for Theodore and Wisley, the moment they stepped into their classroom, they were greeted by the usual mess—desks and chairs covered with cruel graffiti.
Even Wisley, who was rarely targeted, had his desk vandalized this time.
"Unbelievable…" Theodore muttered, pulling out a handkerchief, wetting it, and wiping his desk clean.
Wisley did the same beside him.
When the teacher entered, Theodore reluctantly sat down before he could finish cleaning.
"Those guys again…" he whispered, glancing coldly at three boys snickering nearby.
"Do whatever you want—for now," he added quietly, pulling out his pen and notebook.
Around him, the rest of the class merely watched, amused, while the teacher pretended not to notice the bullying of the poor boy.