The ache was still there.
Eiden lay beneath the twin moons, curled like something trying to make itself small enough to disappear. His breath came in shallow bursts, the last echoes of panic fading into a dull, exhausted fog. The forest hummed around him like a lullaby sung in a language he didn't know, and slowly, like fingers unclenching from a death grip, he began to breathe again.
His body trembled with aftershocks, but his splintered mind began to thread itself into something resembling awareness.
"Panicking won't solve anything," he whispered hoarsely to himself, a mantra said through cracked lips. "Breathe. Just… breathe."
In. Out. In. Out
The moss beneath him was soft, grounding. The scent of wet earth pulled him from the edge. The air felt alive, electric with magic and meaning. And the body, this younger, lighter frame, it still responded, even if it wasn't his. Or maybe it was now.
He didn't know anymore.
*DING.*
A sharp digital chime cut through the stillness.
He flinched, heart skipping. The sound was jarringly mundane. Modern.
Another *DING.*
With trembling fingers, he reached into the robe's deep inner pocket, half-expecting it to be empty.
But no.
A smartphone. Scuffed screen. Cracked in the corner.
He blinked. "Seriously?"
The screen lit up, and a message popped into view.
Mom:
|Eiden, where are you?! You better not be late again. 11:23 PM
|You start Verdant Academy tomorrow, remember? 11:23 PM
|Come home. 11:23 PM
|Now. 11:23 PM
The name hit him like a slap.
Verdant Academy.
His breath hitched.
He stared at the screen, not fully trusting what he was reading.
His mind reeled.
Verdant Academy...
And then it clicked.
"Wait…" he murmured. "That's… that's from the book. That's the school."
He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. "Cries of the Chosen." The novel he has been reading ever since he lost the two most important pillars of his life.
He looked around again, really looked.
The bioluminescent moss. The twin moons. The shimmering trees. The weight of magic in the air.
This is the book.
A strange, surreal joy bloomed in his chest, sharp and disbelieving. Of all the ways to die, to wake, to begin again…
He was inside the story.
Then the joy faltered.
He'd only read a quarter of it.
The blood drained from his face.
"Shit."
He racked his memory. Caelum Ardent. That was the protagonist. Noble, reckless, tragic. He remembered some of the early arcs
But everything beyond that?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. "You've gotta be kidding me. Of course I transmigrate into a book I barely finished."
A pause.
A stupid idea sparked in his head. One that came from every cliche he'd ever read.
He stood up, cleared his throat, raised a hand to the air, and declared:
"Status!"
Silence.
Then a crow cawed in the distance.
He waited.
Nothing.
"No HUD? No cheats? No stats? No tutorial?" he muttered, lowering his hand and scanning the trees like someone would leap out and shout surprise.
Still nothing.
"God, I look like an idiot," he muttered. He could practically hear Emi giggling at him from wherever her spirit now resided.
You nerd.
He almost smiled.
Then-
DING DING DING DING DING.
More messages exploded on his phone screen.
|Mom:
|Eiden? Answer me. 11:28 PM
|Dinner's ready. 11:28 PM
|I'm giving you five minutes. 11:28 PM
|Five. 11:28 PM
|Your father's already sharpening his sword. 11:28 PM
The tone made him blink. It wasn't cruel. It was… familiar. Sharp but warm in a way that hit too close to the heart. A tone he hadn't heard in years.
He exhaled shakily, and the brief lightness he'd found evaporated. The weight returned, but softer this time. Not a crushing grief, but a ghost of something sweet. Bitter. Long gone.
He stared at the phone.
This is my life now, he thought. Or someone's life. But it's the only one I've got.
He didn't know who he was supposed to be. Eiden, this strange boy with fractured magic and full of self-hate? Or Elias, the hollow man who once wore suits like armor and built his empire on ashes?
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.
But if he stayed here in the woods forever, he'd never find out.
He stood, brushed dirt from his robes, and stared in the direction the memories whispered home.
Not clear directions, just a pull, like muscle memory for a life he hadn't lived.
The stars above this world were different.
Brighter. Sharper. Too many to count.
The twin moons floated high and full, bathing the path ahead in a silver glow. The wind was soft now, brushing through the trees with a hush that felt almost reverent.
The forest had thinned behind him, giving way to a cobblestone path that wound down into a valley, where a single house stood with light glowing warmly from within.
Eiden stood at the crest of the hill and stared.
It was modest, nothing like the vast homes he used to own. A wooden porch wrapped around the front, and a pair of slightly cracked wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, their melody soft and nostalgic. A lantern swayed lazily above the door, casting amber halos into the dark.
His breath caught.
Why was it so hard to move?
He should've been relieved to find a place called home in this bizarre new life, but instead, every step felt heavier than the last. His feet stuck to the path like the guilt he'd carried for years was dragging at his heels.
Nervousness pooled in his chest, clenching tighter with every heartbeat.
What if he said something wrong?
What if they noticed he wasn't really their son?
What if this family was just another thing he would lose?
The porch creaked beneath his bare feet. The door loomed before him, glowing faintly from within.
He raised his hand.
Stopped.
Lowered it.
Raised it again.
Knock.
The sound was so small, it barely felt real.
But the light inside shifted.
Then, *click*, the door opened.
And everything stopped.
A man stood in the doorway, backlit by the golden glow of lanternlight. He had a strong build, with kind eyes, brown hair, brown skin and a furrowed brow that spoke of quiet responsibility.
Behind him, a woman peeked out, black hair tied back with clear porcelain skin and bright amber eyes, wearing a cozy wool cardigan. There was flour on her sleeve, and concern in her eyes.
"Eiden?" the woman asked.
Her voice was warm. Familiar in a way it shouldn't be.
Elias's throat tightened.
But before he could speak, a blur of movement shot forward.
A little girl with black hair like the void, amber eyes shining bright like the sun and pale skin, no older than four or five, rushed past them.
She flung the door wide open and ran straight to him.
"Bwudder!"
Her voice rang through the night like a bell, bright, innocent, full of unfiltered joy.
And then she was in his arms.
Small, warm, alive.
She hugged him tightly, as if she had missed him all day.
As if nothing else in the world mattered but him being there.
He froze.
He couldn't breathe.
Not from fear.
But from something older.
Something buried.
Love.
Real. Raw. Uncomplicated.
Something he had long forgotten.
And as her arms wrapped around him, as the warmth of the lantern light fell across her hair, something inside him broke, but not in the way it used to. Not with pain.
But with memory.
The man behind her shifted, suddenly, just for a second, into Elias' own reflection. The hardened businessman. The father he never learned to be.
The woman's face blurred into Hana's.
And the girl in his arms?
Emi.
His daughter.
Her laugh. Her tiny hands. The way she used to run up to him at the door after long work trips.
It came crashing back.
He dropped to his knees.
Not from exhaustion. Not from pain.
From everything.
Tears spilled from his eyes before he could stop them, quiet at first, then choked sobs wracking his chest.
He hugged the girl tighter, forehead pressed to her small shoulder, clinging to her like she was the last real thing in the world.
Because in some twisted way, she was.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, barely audible. "I'm so sorry…"
He wasn't crying for this family.
Not the people in front of him.
He was crying for the ones who weren't.
For the warm meals never eaten, the bedtime stories never told, the birthdays missed, the hospital bedside never reached in time.
For the wife who had believed in him until her last breath.
For the daughter who had died before she ever really lived.
He cried because this was what he had lost.
The girl looked up, confused but unfazed.
"Bwudder? You okay?"
The man stepped forward. The woman knelt down.
"Hey," she said softly, her hand resting gently on his back. "What happened?"
He couldn't speak.
But they didn't force it.
They didn't question it.
They just… stayed with him.
The man put a steadying hand on his shoulder. The little girl leaned in tighter. The woman quietly said, "Come inside, sweetheart. It's cold out."
He nodded, still trembling.
And together, they led him in.
Not knowing why he was crying.
Not needing to know why.
And for that one moment, surrounded by strangers who loved him even though he wasn't who they thought he was, Eiden let himself believe it could be real.
That maybe, just maybe…
Fate was giving him a chance to make things right.