I've always loved my family. I'll admit that without hesitation. They're loud, overbearing, nosy as hell, and half the time they make me want to walk straight out of the house and disappear for a week… but I still love them. It's a strange type of affection, the kind that pulls you close even when you're trying to step back for air.
The problem, I think, is that families tend to forget something important. They forget that a person, no matter how close still has a self. An inner space that belongs only to them. A door they want to open on their own terms. But family… well, they barge through those doors like they own the place. And all for the same reason too, "We're family, so you should tell us everything."
I don't blame them. They don't do it out of malice. They do it because they care in the only way they know how. But caring doesn't erase the pressure. It doesn't erase the feeling of drowning under expectations you never agreed to carry.
These were the thoughts running in circles in my head while I sat inside the sleek, leather-lined interior of Kaye Kalinin's car, pretending I wasn't mentally screaming.
Kaye, my cousin. The firstborn of the two sisters who practically run the Kalinin household with presence alone. One of the people I respected and dreaded at the same time, or at least in Matt's previous memory.
I called her earlier, mainly because I had no idea how to navigate this world's public transport or its communication system. I understood the mechanics in theory, thanks to the fragmented memories lodged in my mind. Still, theory wouldn't stop me from accidentally teleporting into a ditch or missing the Coming of Age Ceremony entirely. So I swallowed my pride and dialed her number.
Her hair, like all Kalinins, carried that almost metallic platinum sheen, but hers had streaks of vibrant blue running through it like flowing currents. It suited her too well, which made sense. She wasn't just talented. She was a phenomenon. The kind of prodigy people call once in a hundred years without exaggeration in classic fantasy novels.
Of course she'd look the part.
Meanwhile, there was me, the guy who wasn't even supposed to be anyone. Transmigrated into a side character with no role, no screen time, no significance. In my old world and this one, apparently, I didn't get the "talented child" memo.
But Kaye never lorded her achievements over me. No, she did something worse, she cared loudly and relentlessly, and that was the reason I was being grilled to the bone right now.
"Are you even listening? Matt. Matt. Matt!" Her voice pierced the air with the intimidating sharpness of someone used to being listened to. "I swear, you're spacing out more than usual. Did you even sleep?"
I blinked. "Uh… yes?"
"Lie better." She clicked her tongue and continued her lecture without waiting for my attempt to defend myself. "Listen. When the thrum starts, you cannot just let it overwhelm you. Rejecting it isn't optional, it's mandatory unless you want your internal channels to fry. Forming a core—don't even get me started. Your channels aren't conditioned enough just to take whatever energy you're given. You need a sequence. A steady rhythm. Breathe with it. Sync with it. You remember the exercises I sent you?"
"I… vaguely recall them."
"That means no." She sighed. "Matt, you have one job today. One. Job. Don't die. Don't faint. Don't embarrass me. Actually—reverse that order. Don't embarrass me first."
Her tone was half stern, half playful, half worried. That was too many halves for one person, but Kaye somehow managed to make it work.
She continued speaking, offering tips, warnings, advice, probabilities, and strategies. A tidal wave of knowledge compressed into every second. A radio that couldn't be turned off. But it was a radio that magically cared deeply and stubbornly.
In a way, it reminded me of the cousins I had in my original world. Specifically, the one who always checked in on me, even when I pulled away. She looked out for me despite my embarrassing tendency to retreat into myself whenever life got too heavy.
She saw worth in me even when I didn't. Kaye gave me that same feeling.
And that made her grilling both comforting and painful.
"…are you even hearing a word I'm saying?" Kaye asked again.
"I am," I replied, though honestly, my thoughts had drifted somewhere else entirely. "I'm just… thinking."
"That's dangerous," she muttered. "Don't think too much before an awakening. Stress interferes with channel responsiveness."
I allowed myself a tiny smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
But internally, my thoughts were spiraling in another direction altogether.
I knew I would awaken today. I would. The chances might have been low for the original Matt, but I wasn't him anymore. I had the World Line System itself trying to adjust me in this world. Naturally, it would also try to fix my body in the process as well.
Awakening wasn't my concern.
My concern was that awakening normally alone wasn't enough. A standard Weaver was nothing. A footnote. A bystander at best in the climax.
And I can't be a bystander. Not if I want to reach him. Not if I want to stand beside him. Support him. Save him.
I need more.
I need a foundation.
And to do that, I need to "hard reset".
If I want to avoid the tragedy written into his life, I must become someone capable of breaking the script. Someone capable of interfering with destiny without being erased by those who govern it.
My thoughts sharpened with resolve as I unconsciously clenched my fist.
I will do whatever it takes.
Just as that determination solidified in me, the car slowed and entered a vast, luminous structure. A massive dome made of layered crystalline material rose before us, glowing faintly with the energy of what I assume was a barrier trying to compress the atmospheric thrum. It looked like an arena of gladiators rather than a mere ceremony for youth.
Kaye finally stopped talking as she guided the car into a designated parking area. She turned to me, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"We're here," she said.
Her expression softened in an almost imperceptible way before she continued, "Judging by how you stopped responding, I'm guessing you've come up with some kind of a plan. Whatever it is… prioritize your safety. Power means nothing if you break yourself trying to grab it. Don't try to prove anything to anyone, you don't have to."
That voice... Concern wrapped in layers of confidence hit me harder than I expected.
Because suddenly, memories overlapped. My real cousin's face merged with hers. Two caring expressions becoming one. Two voices saying the same thing in different worlds.
And just like that, I felt the weight of something I didn't expect: guilt.
My real cousin always believed in me. She always tried to include me, support me, and watch over me. But I retreated from her. I hid behind shame. Shame that I wasn't talented enough, successful enough, worthy enough to stand beside her. I thought I was a disappointment. I thought my presence would only stain her brilliance.
But she never saw me that way. She never cared about the gap I imagined was there. She just cared.
And now here I was, staring at Kaye, feeling the same warmth… and the same regret.
Their faces overlapped.
Their kindness overlapped.
Their unwavering support overlapped.
I didn't realize my mouth had dropped slightly open, or that I was staring too long until Kaye narrowed her eyes.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Her question jolted me back to the present. My throat tightened for a heartbeat before I managed to force words out.
"…Thank you, Kaye. I'll do my best this time."
The sincerity in my voice startled even me. I don't think I had ever said it so plainly before. From the way Kaye blinked rapidly, she clearly hadn't expected it either.
"W—Wait—since when do you talk like that? Matt? Hello? Matt?! Did something happen to your brain—"
But I didn't give her time to finish. I reached for the door handle, stepped out, and closed the door behind me with a soft click.
Inside the car, Kaye froze for three full seconds.
Then—
HONK! HONK! HONK!!
The horn blared repeatedly as if she were shouting at me with a metallic voice.
"MATTHEW KALININ! GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"
People nearby glanced in our direction. Some flinched. Others laugh-snorted under their breath.
I didn't turn around.
Her seething expression was already painted in my mind, clear and vivid. If I looked back, I'd break into laughter.
"You idiot!" her muffled voice yelled despite the closed door. "Don't go ignoring me like that! I wasn't done scolding you! At least let me finish—!"
The horn blared again. And again. Loud enough to shake birds from nearby trees.
But underneath that irritation, I knew what it truly meant.
She was worried. She cared. She saw me.
And for the first time in a long while, across two worlds. I felt something warm settle inside my chest.
Maybe I didn't deserve it. But I was grateful for it nonetheless.
I lifted my hand slightly, not enough for her to see, but enough for myself. A silent promise.
I won't waste this life. I won't waste the people who believe in me.
I stepped forward into the glowing entrance of the colossal dome. Surprisingly, the interior was modern and neat. It reminded me of a municipal building back in my world.
I went to the receptionist and inquired the the lady. "Good afternoon, I am Matthew P. Kalinin. I was scheduled today for a coming of age ceremony. What do I need to do?"