I didn't go back to the Civilian school the next day.
What was the point? I had a sword style that could cut through anything — and a fire in my chest that wouldn't go away. For the first time in years, I felt something.
Hope.
I searched online and found an entrance exam for a school that only accepted Gifted. It was in three days. That gave me time — barely.
I started training in the park behind my apartment. There weren't many people around, just old benches, rusted playground equipment, and silence.
I raised my hand. Concentrated.
A sword appeared in a blink — a glowing edge of light and pressure, like the sky itself had been folded into a blade.
I swung once. The wind split.
I swung again. The ground cracked.
I didn't know if I was using it right. But it felt… good. It felt like I was breathing for the first time.
That night, I tried to sleep — but sleep didn't come.
My body was tired. My eyes heavy. But no matter what I did, I couldn't drift off. I stared at the ceiling, then the clock, then the ceiling again.
One day passed. Then two. Then three.
By the third night, my body was shaking. But not from fatigue — it was something else. Like the world was waiting for something.
And then it happened.
As the sun vanished, exhaustion hit me like a brick wall.
I collapsed on my bed.
And I woke up... in someone else's life.
This time, the world was warm. A quiet house. A wooden floor. A smell of stew in the air. I looked down and saw calloused hands — older, worn, and strong.
Then I heard a voice.
"Papa, look! I can move rocks too! Are you proud of me, Papa?"
I turned.
A small boy stood in front of me — wild hair, big eyes. His hands were trembling, but behind him floated three small stones.
He grinned.
I didn't know what to say.
"Papa?"
I turned again. A woman laughed softly behind me.
She walked over, placed a kiss on my cheek, and said, "Haha, dear, did you drink too much again?"
I couldn't move.
They were a family. My family?
I felt something in that moment. Something I hadn't felt in years.
Belonging.
But before I could speak again… the walls cracked.
A roar shook the house.
Then they came — monsters, shadows with teeth and claws. The windows shattered. Screams echoed.
I tried to protect them — but the body I was in didn't move fast enough. In moments, the house burned.
And they were gone.
I woke up… crying.
Not sweating. Not screaming.
Crying.
My chest ached in a way it never had before.
Not because they died.
But because, for a moment… I had something I never truly knew.
A family.
I walked to the mirror. My reflection stared back.
But it wasn't me.
It was him.
The man from the dream.
His eyes were red, tears dripping down his face like rivers. His lips trembled.
"I couldn't save them…" he whispered. "My wife… my son…"
His voice broke. He was barely holding on.
I took a deep breath and stepped closer.
"Do you regret it?" I asked. "Not saving them?"
"Yes."
He collapsed to his knees in the mirror. I felt his sorrow in my bones.
I clenched my fists.
"I'll help you," I said. "I'll go back. I'll do it right. You deserve peace."
He looked up at me. A spark returned to his eyes.
"You'd do that… for me?"
I nodded. "For them. And for me."
He smiled — not fully, but enough to show me he believed.
"I'll count on you," he said.
The mirror returned to normal.
I looked at myself.
No — not just myself.
I was more than me now.
More than Lumiel.
I was someone who knew pain. Someone who would carry regret. And maybe… someone who could finally understand what love really meant.