My name is Keal Veyr.
I used to be a normal guy. Or at least, I tried to be.
When I was seven, my world collapsed. My mom and dad—Eliane and Darian Veyr—were killed in a car accident.
One second they were there, smiling in the front seat, and the next, everything went black. I survived with nothing but a scar and a heart too broken to beat properly.
Since then, I've been alone. No relatives. No foster family that stuck around. I lived above a ramen shop, working part-time to cover rent and food. Jinbei, the owner, was the closest thing I had to a guardian. He was gruff, smelled like seaweed and cigarette ash, but he never turned me away.
School? Forget it. I was the kid with no parents, no money, and no friends. I got bullied for just existing. "Orphan freak" they called me. "Ghost boy."
At first, I cried. Then I learned martial arts. Pain became normal. Bruises faded. Eventually, I became strong enough to fight back. But just when I started to turn things around, the main bully transferred schools. No dramatic revenge, no triumphant victory.
Just silence.
My dream was simple. Not noble. Not heroic. I didn't want to save the world or become a legend. I just wanted love. A beautiful girl. Someone who would choose me. Power, money, whatever it took—I was willing to earn it, steal it, or fake it.
That was the plan. Until May 30th.
---
It started like any other boring day.
Cloudy skies. Streets damp from last night's rain. I had just finished my shift at the ramen shop and was walking back through the quiet industrial district. Earbuds in, hoodie up, lost in thought.
Then I heard it.
RRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE
Tires. Screeching. Echoing.
I looked up. A red sports car came flying around the corner, drifting like it was in a movie. The engine roared like a beast. Smoke peeled off its tires.
My heart jumped. I stood in the middle of the road, stunned.
Then I heard a second engine.
Lower. Heavier.
I turned my head.
And there it was.
BMW M5. Matte black. Custom rims. Growling like a monster.
My dream car.
And it was drifting straight at me.
I didn't move. I should have. But I couldn't. My brain short-circuited. All I could think was:
> "BMW M5-kun... you're so beautiful."
Then darkness.
---
I expected nothingness.
But there was sound. A beep. Then silence. Then warmth.
My eyes fluttered open. Blinding white light above me. My body—weak, numb. Tubes? A hospital?
I saw a nurse standing at the edge of the bed. Her face turned toward someone. "He's stable, but unconscious. We'll monitor brain activity."
Was I alive?
Everything was spinning. My thoughts were slow, heavy.
Then cold. Sudden, freezing cold.
Like falling.
---
I opened my eyes again.
But this time, something was wrong.
The ceiling was gone. Replaced by leaves. A tree? A forest?
I tried to speak—but all that came out was a soft cry.
My body felt tiny. Weak. Fragile.
I was... a baby?
No. No, no. This wasn't right. I remembered dying. The car. The pain. Then the hospital. Then...
What was this?
Suddenly, arms lifted me. Warm. Steady. Smelled like herbs and moss.
A woman held me close. Her eyes were pure white. Blind? Yet she looked straight at me.
"Hush, little thread," she whispered.
Her voice was strange. Old, but not frail. Calm, like wind in tall grass.
"You're not one of theirs. Not spun by the Loom. You're... dropped."
I didn't understand. I was still screaming, flailing.
She hummed. A slow, haunting lullaby.
"You shine violet. Strange. I've never seen that color on a child."
She paused.
"Veilborn," she said.
The word echoed in my mind. Veilborn?
She stood, still holding me, and walked deeper into the woods. Her steps made no sound.
Around us, the trees twisted unnaturally. Bark peeled in patterns like runes. Strange lights floated like embers, pulsing with colors not meant for the human eye. The air smelled like memory—sweet, bitter, ancient.
Whispers moved through the fog. Not words. Not language. But emotion. Curiosity. Dread. Hunger.
The woman—Nylessa, I would later learn—ignored them all.
We passed a stone monolith, cracked in half, with symbols glowing dimly. A severed hand of golden crystal clutched at its base. I felt it looking at me.
"The gods see all threads," Nylessa said softly, "but not the ones that slip behind the veil. Not unless they remember to look."
A chill crawled down my spine. Or... whatever babies have for spines.
That was how my second life began.
Not with magic.
Not with glory.
But with confusion, crying, and a blind woman who spoke to threads.
My name is Keal Veyr.
And I think I was never supposed to be born again.