📘 CHAPTER 1 — A FAMILY HE DIDN'T REMEMBER
Pain.
It hits me like a hammer, splitting through my skull, flooding every vein. For a moment, I think I'm dying again. Then the agony fades, and darkness swallows me whole.
When I wake, the world feels cold and unfamiliar. My throat burns. My limbs feel like they're made of air. I search blindly until my hand finds a water bottle on a nearby table. I drink slowly. My fingers tremble.
I look around.
White walls. A clean room. Advanced tech humming softly. A huge screen connected to a VR set. Medical machines linked to my body. Too clean. Too expensive. Too… normal.
Not a hospital.Not the slums.Not my old world.
As my consciousness clears, my memories fall into place—my past life, my lonely childhood, my accidental death. And the memories of this new life: the slums, hunger, constant fear… the murder I witnessed… running until my lungs burned…
And then crashing into a man with black hair and red eyes.
Just like mine.
Before I can think more, the door opens.
Soft footsteps. Slow… hesitant… afraid.
A man enters.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Black hair tied loosely. A scar under his right eye. Red irises that glow faintly in the dim light. He looks dangerous—like someone who's fought too many battles—but the way he looks at me…
His entire expression breaks.
"…Son?"
The word freezes me.
He takes a cautious step forward, as if afraid I'll disappear.
"I finally… found you."
My chest tightens painfully. I stare at him, unable to speak.
He sits on the edge of the bed, but not too close. His hands shake—big, rough hands that look like they've held weapons more than anything else.
"When you were three…" his voice cracks, "…you were kidnapped."
Kidnapped.
My breath hitches.
"We searched everywhere," he continues. "Every city, every dungeon, every black market. We didn't stop. We never stopped."
His eyes lower.
"Your mother… she fell apart. Your sister cried herself sick for months. Your little brother was born into a family drowning in grief."
I can't move.
I can't breathe.
I can't understand why someone is crying for me.
"You survived ten years alone…" He wipes his face roughly. "…and I wasn't there."
His voice breaks completely.
"I'm sorry."
The word pierces me deeper than any pain ever has.
My past life's lonelinessMy current life's miseryAnd now suddenly—A family that has been grieving for me for a decade?
It's too much.
My throat tightens. I clench the blanket.
"I…" My voice barely comes out. "…I don't remember."
"I know." He smiles weakly. "But you're home. That's enough."
A soft knock interrupts us.
A woman enters.
Her hands tremble as she pulls me into her arms before I can stop her. Her scent feels warm. Familiar. Painfully so.
Behind her, a girl with the same black hair—older, determined—stands frozen, tears in her eyes.
A little boy peeks from behind her, clinging to her sleeve. He doesn't know me, but he recognizes me somehow. Maybe from the portraits. Maybe from their stories.
This is my family.
My real family.
I don't know how to react.I don't know how to feel love.I don't know how to belong.
But the warmth of their touch, their tears, their shaking voices…
Something inside me breaks.
"Welcome home," my mother whispers.
And for the first time in two lifetimes…
I feel something warm in my chest.
Something terrifying.
Something I've never felt before.
A placeI might belong to.