I sometimes miss the old world.
But it's gone.
Seventeen years.
Seventeen years and I still haven't moved on.
Sometimes I forget I'm seventeen.
Other times I forget I'm not.
If I add both lives together…
My mind feels older than fifty.
And now the system wants me to judge candidates.
Judge.
Like I'm qualified.
Like I asked for this.
"This is too much…" I whispered.
A sharp crack split the room.
Astrid's palm slammed against the table.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
I blinked.
"Sorry. I—"
She exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down her face.
"Look. I know you're in a bad situation. But I'm trying to help you."
Her voice softened.
"You were with the old man yesterday, right?"
I didn't answer.
"He died this morning."
For a moment—
my heart didn't beat.
"I'm not accusing you," she added quickly. "I'm not trying to frame you as a killer."
"I understand," I said quietly.
And I did.
That was the worst part.
She studied me for a long second.
Then she stood.
"I want you to leave for a while. Go to the city. Learn magic. Lay low."
"You think that's best?"
"I do."
She walked toward the door.
"I'll handle things here."
She paused.
Then, without turning back—
"I trust you."
A beat.
"So don't do something stupid."