The warmth of sunlight brushed against his face, gently pulling him out of the depths of slumber.
Lucian stirred faintly, his brows twitched at the sudden brightness filtering through the curtains.
His body felt strangely heavy, as though something—or rather, someone—was pressing down on him.
Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was a head of soft black hair resting on his chest.
Lia's small frame was curled up against him, her arms wound tightly around his torso like she was afraid he'd vanish the moment she let go.
Her breathing was slow and steady, her body completely relaxed against his.
Lucian blinked, momentarily frozen.
'Was she like this all night?'
The question drifted through his groggy mind.
He sighed quietly, the corner of his lips twitching into a faint smile.
'She's becoming too clingy.'
He didn't hate it—not even close. In truth, it was oddly comforting.
But it was still confusing. She hadn't been like this before… before his regression.
Before everything had fallen apart.
His gaze softened as he studied her face.
Lia's expression was peaceful now, very different from the tear-streaked face she had when she died.
That image still haunted him every time he closed his eyes.
'Why… why is she acting like this now, all of a sudden?' he wondered.
Then a sudden thought came to him
'Ah… maybe it's because of me.'
Back then, he'd cared for her, yes—but he'd also been distant, cold even.
He had walled himself off, thinking it was for the best.
But now, after witnessing her death and returning to this time, his behavior had changed.
Without realizing it, he'd started clinging to her too, trying to protect her… trying to keep her alive this time.
'Maybe that's why,' he thought.
'Maybe she just feels safer now.'
But even as he considered that, a small voice in his heart whispered that there might be other reasons—reasons he couldn't yet see.
Still, it didn't matter. What mattered was her safety.
If Lia became more emotionally dependent on him, then that bastard—the one who became her boyfriend in his past life—would never get the chance to take her away again.
It might seem wrong to manipulate his sister like that, but he didn't care. As long as she stayed with him, he would do anything.
Even now, the mere thought of that man or any other man being along with her made his stomach twist with revulsion.
His hands clenched unconsciously, nails digging into his palms.
The darkness that he thought he'd buried began to rise again, clouding his eyes until they looked almost lifeless.
That was when a familiar voice echoed softly inside his mind.
[Do you always have to be so possessive?]
Lucian's body stiffened at the sudden interruption.
'Akasha…'
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm within.
"What are you talking about? It's just… I care about her."
[Right…] Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
[You humans also term it as toxic behavior.]
He frowned.
"You're quite talkative this morning."
[Just being honest,] she replied coolly, her voice fading back into his mind.
Before he could form a comeback, the weight on his chest shifted. Lia stirred softly, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked awake.
"Good morning," he said quietly.
At the sound of his voice, she flinched slightly, confusion flickering across her face as she realized where she was. Her eyes widened, and she quickly sat up, moving away from him.
Her hair was adorably messy, strands falling over her face. Her eyes were still puffy from sleep, and her cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink. Her ears, too, glowed faintly red—clear signs of embarrassment.
[She's blushing,] Akasha commented.
'I know,' he replied inwardly, suppressing a chuckle.
He didn't mention it aloud. Instead, he reached out and gently patted Lia's head.
"Good morning, Lia," he repeated, his tone gentle.
"Ah– g–good morning…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
The familiar warmth of his hand on her head made her heart beat faster, but at the same time, it helped her calm down.
The simple gesture was something she'd grown used to recently, and though it embarrassed her, it also made her feel strangely safe.
After a few seconds, she looked up at him, her eyes uncertain.
"D–did you have a nightmare again?" she asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
Lucian paused, his gaze drifting toward the window.
"Yes, but… I can't remember it."
He truly couldn't.
The dreams came almost every night now—shadowy fragments of pain, screams, and loss—but they always slipped away before he could grasp them.
What lingered was only the feeling: suffocating dread, and the ache of something important being torn from him.
He still hadn't used the Attribute Points he'd earned from the last quest.
Somehow, it just didn't feel like the right time.
Hearing his answer, Lia let out a small breath of relief, but her expression remained complicated. She bit her lower lip, hesitating.
There was something she hadn't told him. Something she couldn't tell him.
On one hand, she wanted to be honest—he deserved that much. But on the other… she couldn't bear to hurt him.
He didn't remember his past or his real parents.
When he'd first woken up in their home, disoriented and scarred, he hadn't known who he was or where he came from. Her parents—their parents, as they'd told him—had taken him in.
They had told her not to reveal anything, not until he was ready.
They feared that telling him the truth might reignite whatever trauma he carried. And Lia… she had seen enough of that trauma to understand.
Even though Lucian didn't remember his past, his body did.
She could still recall the first few days after they found him—the way he'd flinch at sudden movements, or tense whenever anyone touched him.
The raw fear in his eyes whenever her father was near, even when he spoke to him, made Lucian scared. There were countless scars on his body telling the story of what he had gone through.
He might have lost his memories, but his instincts remembered pain.
So, when her parents said it was better to let him believe they were his real family, she agreed. Not because she wanted to deceive him, but because she wanted him to feel safe.
Still… as she sat there watching him, she couldn't help but feel guilty.
He smiled at her now—softly, almost tenderly—but there was something behind that smile, something broken and distant. And it hurt her more than she could admit.