The first days blurred together.
Not because nothing happened, but because everything felt too gentle, too warm, and too different from the two lives I remembered. My body was weak, but the house around me was alive in a way I didn't know how to handle.
I spent most mornings sitting in the wheelchair Arin brought from the hallway. She moved it as if she'd done it a thousand times before. Maybe she had—maybe she'd prepared for a moment like this long before I ever opened my eyes.
The house smelled of cooked rice, herbs from the garden, and faint traces of mana that flowed like quiet air currents through each room.
And every day, I learned something new about the world I was now part of.
The House and the World
Our home sits in Vellorin City, in the northern district of the nation of Thryon. The city feels layered—residential families on the outer ring, guild workers closer to the center, and academy students running around in uniforms that never seem to stay clean.
Even though I barely left the house, I heard enough from Arin and Rin to understand the shape of things.Magic wasn't special here.Guilds weren't unusual.Academies were as common as schools in my first life.
It felt unreal… but real enough that I wanted to believe it.
Our home was two floors, not huge but somehow spacious:
First floor:– kitchen, always warm– living hall, filled with voices– master bedroom, quiet and neat– extra room that no one used– a door leading to the small garden outside
Second floor:– Arin's room– Rin's room– a guest room– my room, freshly made for me
Beneath everything was an underground training area, a place Dad used in his prime years with the Devils Guild. He said it wasn't safe for me yet. I didn't argue.
The house wasn't luxury. But it was lived in. Filled. Whole.
I didn't know where I fit yet.But the house didn't push me out.
Dad's New Job
Dad left every morning before the sun rose.
I'd hear the door click softly, then the heavy step of his boots fading away. He worked now as a trainer in the Devils Guild, teaching young recruits instead of fighting. He'd lost his arm years ago, but he moved like someone who never let loss define him.
Every afternoon when he returned, he came looking for me first.
Not Rin.Not Arin.Not even Mom.
Me.
He'd place his hand on my shoulder or my hair, checking if I'd grown steadier. He never asked if I was in pain. He looked into my eyes and somehow already knew.
And every time, I felt the same strange mixture—respect, fear, and something warm I didn't know how to name.
Rin and Arin's Days
Rin left for elementary school every morning at eight, usually yelling about something he probably caused himself.
"Arin! Look! I made a windball—wait, wrong one—NO DON'T DUCK—"
Then a breeze blew his own bag into the wall.
He always waved at me before leaving, even if I wasn't near the door. Sometimes I waved back. Sometimes I didn't have the strength to lift my hand, so I nodded instead.
He still smiled.
Arin went to Hunets Academy, the place for kids older than Rin. She'd return in the afternoon with her uniform wrinkled, her braid half undone, and stories spilling out of her mouth before she even took off her shoes.
She talked to me as if I'd always been there to hear her.About teachers.Friends.Mana lessons.Annoying classmates.
I didn't always understand.But I listened.
Listening felt easier than speaking.
My Recovery—One Month
First week:I could barely stand. Arin pushed me everywhere. Rin talked enough for all three of us. Mom fed me with small bowls. Dad stood quietly in the corner like a shadow that never left.
The house felt too warm.I felt too temporary.
Second week:My legs stopped trembling when I stood with support. I could walk a few steps if Dad held me. My appetite grew. I didn't panic as much when someone touched me.
And I started recognizing sounds:Mom is chopping vegetables.Arin is brushing her hair.Rin dropping things.Dad's footsteps—steady, heavy, familiar.
Third week:I walked on my own. Slowly, but on my own.I learned where the sunlight hit the hallway at noon.I helped Arin water the garden.I played a few simple games with Rin.I asked questions—small ones.
"What's that flower?""Why does the academy have uniforms?""Where does Dad work exactly?""Why are your eyes green?"
Arin answered everything.Patiently.Honestly.
Fourth week:I didn't flinch when Dad rested his hand on my shoulder.I let Mom fix my hair even though it tickled.I laughed once—very small—when Rin tried to impress his friend with magic and blasted himself backward.
It wasn't much.But it was more than anything I'd felt in years.
Conversations I Didn't Expect
Sometimes Mom would sit next to me and talk softly about nothing—recipes, neighbors, weather. She never pressured me. She just stayed.
Sometimes Rin would crawl onto my bed and brag about school fights that were barely real fights.
Sometimes Arin would sit near my chair and talk until she forgot I wasn't the same boy she grew up with.
And sometimes…Dad sat beside me, silent, just breathing.His presence was heavy but comforting.Like a wall I could lean against instead of run from.
The End of the Month
One evening, the sun was soft orange through the windows. Rin was drawing on the floor. Arin was leaning against the couch beside me. Mom hummed while sewing a button. Dad cleaned his training gloves.
And I was wrapped in a blanket, legs curled, breathing slowly.
It felt… peaceful.Foreign, but peaceful.
Home.
"Liam," Arin said quietly, "how do you feel today?"
I looked at her, then at the room, then at my hands.
Warm.
Safe.
Like I belonged here, even if I didn't understand why.
"…Your home feels warm," I whispered.
Arin smiled.
"This is your home too."
I swallowed, my throat tightening.
"I… want to stay."
Her smile widened.
"Then stay."
No one said anything dramatic.No one cried.No one made a big moment out of it.
But something inside me—something dark and tired and lost—finally unclenched.
For the first time in three lifetimes…
I felt like I wasn't alone.