Instead of heading straight downstairs, Oliver turned into the bathroom and flipped on the light. The white tiles gleamed under the fluorescent glow, the faint scent of mint and citrus rising from the neatly arranged toiletries.
He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face, the shock chasing away the last remnants of sleep. Reaching for his toothbrush, he began brushing with methodical precision, staring at himself in the mirror. That lingering sense of unease from earlier clung to him like a shadow—an itch he couldn't quite scratch.
Shaking the thought away, he rinsed his mouth, dried his face with a towel, and ran his fingers through his still-messy hair. After a few futile attempts to tame it, he gave up and headed out, flipping off the light behind him.
The smell of grilled fish and miso soup wafted through the air, warmth drawing him toward the kitchen.
At the small dining table, a little blonde boy with bangs covering his eyes sat happily munching on a piece of tamagoyaki, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's. This was Kaito Sakuragi—his half-brother and Yui's twin. To his left sat Yui, hair tied into twin tails, stuffing her face with equal enthusiasm.
Yumi, ever composed, poured herself a cup of tea while casually scrolling through her phone. Their mother, a blond woman with warm, gentle features, sat across from them, sipping her coffee while glancing at the morning news on the small kitchen TV.
Oliver dropped into his seat, grabbing a bowl of rice. "You really were gonna eat my share, huh?"
Kaito blinked innocently. "Mmm!" He swallowed, grinning. "Yumi-nee said I could have it if you didn't show up in time."
Oliver shot Yumi a look. She simply sipped her tea, turning slightly away, absorbed in a video of a kitten batting at falling snowflakes.
"You should be thanking me," she said. "At least this way you had some motivation to get up."
He sighed but didn't argue. Instead, he focused on eating.
But as the minutes passed, a strange warmth began to spread through his body. Subtle at first—barely noticeable. But soon, it was unmistakable. Like an ember flickering to life deep inside his core. His breathing grew smoother, his limbs lighter.
His fingers twitched mid-bite.
What the hell…?
The feeling was too familiar. Memories—unwelcome and sharp—rose from Fang Lee's mind. The way Qi coursed through meridians like blood made of light. This warmth… wasn't natural. Not here. Not in a place like this.
"Onii-chan?"
Yui's voice snapped him back.
He blinked. Everyone was staring.
"You okay?" Yumi asked, brow raised. "You spaced out."
"Yeah, just… tired," Oliver muttered, shoveling another bite into his mouth to mask the strange shift in his expression.
Their mother glanced at the clock and set down her cup. "Alright, let's get moving. I'll drive today."
"Yay! I get to ride with Onii-chan!" Yui squealed, pumping her little fists.
Oliver exhaled, standing as his chair scraped against the floor. He grabbed his school bag and followed the others to the genkan. The hallway, cozy and familiar, was lined with framed photos—childhood memories, school festivals, a few where his blond hair stood out even more than his awkward grin.
He slipped on his shoes beside the twins, who were already bouncing with excitement. Yumi adjusted her bag's strap, and their mother jingled the car keys with a practiced hand before pushing open the front door.
Outside, the cool morning air greeted them.
Their silver minivan—compact but worn with love—waited in the driveway. Oliver pulled open the back door, letting the twins scramble in first before following. Yumi took the passenger seat, while their mother slid into the driver's spot.
As the engine hummed to life, Oliver leaned against the window, eyes tracing the streets of Hoshizuki. The town still yawned with sleep—old rooftops and new constructions standing side by side. The cherry blossom trees were bare. Their branches waited for spring like forgotten promises.
But Oliver's mind was elsewhere.
That warmth hadn't faded.
If anything, it had gone deeper.
His otaku soul stirred with something close to awe.
There's no way… right?
He had read too many cultivation novels. He had memorized them, dreamed them. But now, sitting in a beat-up family van with cartoons playing on the twins' tablet, something he thought impossible started to feel real.
Qi circulation.
Just the thought gave him goosebumps. He focused, breath shallow. He'd done this before—in that wuxia world, as Fang Lee. He remembered every route, every breath pattern. Could he…?
He inhaled.
Focused inward.
And—
A slow throb answered in his chest.
A river began to move.
His fingers twitched again. It was faint. Fragile. Like a something he wasn't allowed to hold onto. But it was there.
His heart jumped.
Just as he tried to guide it downward, dizziness hit him hard.
Thud!
His head knocked lightly against the window.
Yumi turned immediately. "Did you just—"
"I—uh, yeah. Just nodded off," he muttered, rubbing his temple with a sheepish laugh.
"You've been acting weird all morning…" she muttered.
He leaned back, cheeks flushed as the warmth receded. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Maybe none of this was real.
And yet…
Deep within his body, in a place even he hadn't reached, something stirred.
In his crystalline dantian, still unawakened, a pool of green liquid lay undisturbed. Its surface reflected a mirror-like sheen.
Then—
Ripple.
A tremor barely disturbed the stillness.
Then silence.
At Hoshizuki High School, a silver Toyoma Epstima rolled into the drop-off lane. The building ahead, a graceful blend of modern concrete and traditional wood-panel aesthetics, stood tall among the winter-naked trees. Students moved past the gates in chatter-filled waves, wrapped in scarves and trailing bags.
The minivan stopped with a gentle hiss.
"Alright, Oliver, this is your stop," his mother said.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, grabbing his bag.
"Bye, Onii-chan!" Yui called out, waving with both hands.
"Try not to fall asleep in class," Yumi added without turning around.
"No promises," he muttered with a smirk.
He stepped out, adjusting his strap as the cold hit his face. The crowd swirled around him—uniformed teens with earbuds, laughter, sleepy faces, and rustling bags. A bird overhead chirped once before flying off.
Oliver inhaled sharply, pushing the strange thoughts aside. He needed to act normal. He needed to—
Thud.
Someone bumped into him.
"Oh—sorry…" a soft voice said.
He turned, catching the girl just as she stepped back.
She had chestnut hair tied in a ponytail and wore the same uniform as him. Her head bowed slightly, bangs framing her face.
He blinked.
A smile tugged at his lips.
"No problem, class pres."
The girl's eyes widened just a little at the nickname—but before she could say more, Oliver was already walking away, hands in his pockets, warmth still tucked away somewhere deeper than breath.