Tyler sat on the edge of his bed with an acoustic guitar resting across his lap.
The last sun rays filtered through the curtains, painting long strips of orange across the room. Compared to two years ago, the room looked different. The room had grown alongside him.
Several shelves now lined the wall opposite his bed, packed with books accumulated over the years. Literature. History. Politics. Psychology. Some had been recommended by teachers. Others had simply caught his attention during countless afternoons spent wandering through libraries and second-hand bookstores. Beside them sat a collection of notebooks filled with observations, timelines, theories, and thoughts that nobody else would ever read.
Near the study desk hung a row of framed certificates.
Taekwondo.
District Competition Participation.
Intermediate Certification.
Another frame had joined them several months ago.
Karate.
The beginning of another discipline.
Tyler's fingers moved across the strings and a soft melody drifted through the room. The same progression repeated itself over and over again. Practice. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Years ago the instrument had felt foreign in his hands. Every chord required concentration. Every transition felt awkward. Now his fingers moved naturally. Muscle memory carried most of the burden while experience handled the rest.
His voice quietly followed the melody.
"You are nothing to me... yet you feel like everything..."
The transition came clean.
For once.
No mistakes.
Tyler paused before shaking his head.
"Still sounds too dramatic."
The guitar remained balanced across his lap as faint voices drifted through the floorboards beneath him. An argument. Not unusual anymore.
Topics changed but tension never did.
Tyler listened without really listening.
Two years.
Two entire years.
And during those two years he had done exactly what he promised himself he would do.
Almost nothing.
School. Training. Literature Club. Soccer. Homework. Exams. Vacations. Birthdays. Ordinary days blending into ordinary weeks until months disappeared almost without notice.
His fingers lightly tapped against the wooden body of the guitar.
A hollow sound echoed through the room.
Outside the window, his reflection stared back at him.
The difference was becoming impossible to ignore.
Fifteen.
Almost.
He was taller now. His shoulders had broadened. The childish softness around his face had gradually disappeared, replaced by sharper features that looked increasingly different compare to his previous life looks. He became more refine and sharp.
Yet the biggest change wasn't physical.
It was control.
The first time he manipulated a thought years ago, it felt like trying to redirect a river with bare hands. Unstable. Crude. Dangerous. Then came emotional influence. Then decision bias. Each stage building upon the last until the pieces finally connected together.
Thought.
Emotion.
Decision.
A complete chain Tyler closed his eyes and focused on the voices downstairs.
Melissa sounded frustrated but determined to remain calm. Steven sounded exhausted. Vanessa sounded exactly the same as she always had.
Careful.
Measured.
Patient.
The same Vanessa he remembered. The same Vanessa who hadn't started moving her final pieces yet.
But she would.
Tyler could already see the shape forming.
The household finances continued worsening. Prices continued rising. Savings continued shrinking. Steven's habits hadn't improved. Richard remained absent. From the outside the Brown household still looked stable. Inside, however, the foundation was slowly cracking.
Almost exactly as he remembered. A faint smile appeared on his face.
Almost.
That single word mattered.
Because this time there was one difference.
Him.
The guitar strings vibrated softly beneath his fingers as another chord echoed through the room.
Years ago he had been powerless.
Years ago patience had been his only option.
Years ago he needed excuses.
Not anymore.
If he wanted to manipulate someone now, he could.
Completely.
The realization should have frightened him.
Instead, it felt strangely ordinary.
Like finally becoming fluent in a language after years of study.
The ability itself wasn't new.
Only the precision.
The understanding.
His thoughts drifted toward the past three years. Three years of experiments. Three years of carefully testing limits while pretending to be an ordinary student.
The journey had been slower than expected.
When he first awoke inside the cathedral and received those wishes, he imagined growth would be straightforward. Power would appear. Knowledge would arrive. Everything would become easier.
Reality had been different. Every improvement demanded practice. Every new stage demanded control. Every breakthrough demanded pain.
A faint memory surfaced.
Crimson eyes with Blood and Eris's terrified expression.
Tyler sighed.
That headache had nearly split his skull apart. At the time he thought something had gone wrong. Now he understood it had simply been another step forward. Another piece of the puzzle falling into place, most important lesson wasn't the existence of Decision Bias.
It was what came after.
For years he believed his abilities were separate powers.
Now he understood the truth.
Everything belonged to the same path.
Thought Reading.
Mind Search.
Thought Manipulation.
Emotional Influence.
Decision Bias.
Deep Mind Search.
Full Manipulation.
The names were different.
The functions were different.
But the destination remained the same.
Control.
Tyler looked toward the ceiling. The thought should have disturbed him. Instead it only made him curious. How far could this path actually go?
He already knew some of the answers.
Fragments of knowledge had appeared during previous awakenings. Small pieces of information. Incomplete glimpses.
Enough to understand that what he currently possessed was only the beginning.
A dangerous beginning. His fingers returned to the strings. A soft melody filled the room once more.
"Make me yours, my love..."
The lyric slipped out absentmindedly.
Then he immediately stopped.
"No."
The words felt wrong today.
Not because of the song.
Because of the irony.
After spending years learning how to influence others, the idea of surrendering control felt almost absurd.
Tyler adjusted one of the tuning pegs.
The note sharpened slightly.
A soft knock interrupted the room's silence.
Before he could answer, the door opened. Nitsi poked her head inside.
Now Eight years old, she had grown considerably over the past two years. She looked around the room before immediately spotting the guitar.
"Practicing again?"
Tyler placed the instrument beside him.
"A little."
Nitsi stepped fully inside.
"Aunt says dinner's ready."
"I'll be there in a minute."
She nodded but didn't leave.
Instead she continued staring at him.
Tyler raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Nitsi frowned.
"Nothing."
"That's weird."
For a second Tyler simply stared at her.
Then he shook his head.
"You're impossible."
"I know."
Satisfied with her achievement, Nitsi turned and walked toward the door. Just before leaving she looked back one final time.
"Hurry up."
Then she disappeared.
The door clicked shut behind her. Tyler remained seated on the edge of the bed.
The guitar rested beside him. Outside the window, the sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon.
For several moments he simply sat there.
Watching.
Thinking.
Waiting.
The calm period was ending.
He could feel it.
For almost three years he had preserved the timeline. He had observed rather than interfered. Watched rather than acted. Allowed events to unfold naturally whenever possible.
That luxury was disappearing.
Vanessa's end was approaching its final phase. The financial situation was deteriorating faster than before. Middle school was nearing its conclusion.
And somewhere ahead waited the next stage of his abilities. The future was finally moving again.
Tyler stood up and carefully placed the guitar on its stand beside the desk.
His reflection briefly appeared in the window.
Older.
Stronger.
More dangerous.
Yet somehow still the same boy who had once stood inside a cathedral and wished for another chance.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Let's see how much of the future survives this time."
Tyler descended the stairs slowly, one hand resting on the railing as the sounds of the house gradually became clearer. The smell of dinner drifted from the kitchen, mixing with the familiar scent of the old wooden furniture that had filled the Brown household for as long as he could remember.
By the time he reached the dining room, everyone was already gathering around the table.
Silas sat in his usual seat.
For a moment Tyler simply stood there.
The difference was subtle enough that most people wouldn't notice it.
He did.
The man sitting there looked older than he should have.
Not physically old.
Just... worn down.
The lines around his eyes were deeper now. His shoulders carried a constant heaviness that never seemed to leave anymore. Even when he smiled, the exhaustion remained hidden underneath. The financial situation, no salary coming for almost year, the uncertainty surrounding the bank, the endless pressure of providing for a family, all of it had slowly carved itself into him over the past two years.
Tyler hated it.
Across from him, Melissa was placing dishes onto the table.
She had changed too.
His mother still smiled.
But it wasn't the same smile anymore.
Years ago her laughter used to fill the entire house. Now it appeared less often. The smile remained, but it looked tired, as if she forced herself to wear it because everyone else depended on it. Even her movements had become more mechanical. Work. Cooking. Cleaning. Budgeting. Worrying.
Day after day.
Month after month.
Tyler felt his hand tighten.
His nails dug into his palm.
No.
Not yet.
He forced himself to relax.
Just wait, father.
Just a little longer.
There will only be one more setback.
One final humiliation.
After that, I swear I'll never let you and mother suffer like this again.
His eyes shifted toward Melissa.
Let these worst days pass.
Our lives will become better.
I'll make sure of it.
A smile appeared on his face as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Sorry. I got distracted upstairs."
Melissa immediately pointed a spoon toward him.
"By distracted, do you mean staring out the window again?"
Tyler looked offended.
"I'll have you know I was practicing."
"Practicing thinking?"
"Practicing guitar."
"Oh."
Melissa lowered the spoon.
"That's slightly better."
Nitsi burst out laughing.
"See? Even Mom knows your weird thinking face."
Tyler sighed dramatically.
"This family keeps attacking me."
"Because you're an easy target," Nitsi replied.
Silas chuckled quietly as he reached for a glass of water.
"I have to agree with her."
Tyler stared.
"Not you too."
"Especially me."
For the first time that evening, a genuine smile appeared on Silas's face.
The sight alone made Tyler feel a little lighter.
Melissa sat down and began serving food.
"Eat before it gets cold."
Nobody argued.
Within moments the familiar sounds of dinner filled the room.
Plates.
Cutlery.
Conversation.
Normal things.
Things Tyler had once taken for granted.
Nitsi pointed toward him with her fork.
"So when are you finally going to play something for us?"
Melissa immediately frowned.
"Don't point that at people."
Nitsi lowered the fork.
"Sorry."
Then she looked at Tyler again.
"Well?"
Tyler raised an eyebrow.
"I play all the time."
"In your room."
"That's still playing."
"It doesn't count if nobody hears it."
Silas glanced toward him.
"She's got a point."
Tyler looked genuinely betrayed.
"Not you too?"
"You've had that guitar for two years," Silas said. "I think we've heard maybe one or two songs."
"That's because I'm practicing."
Melissa laughed softly.
"That's what you've been saying for two years."
Tyler opened his mouth, then paused.
"I like having an audience that can't judge me."
Nitsi nearly choked laughing.
"He's talking about the walls."
"The walls are very supportive."
Melissa shook her head.
"There he goes."
"What?"
"That exact tone."
Tyler blinked.
"What tone?"
"The one that says you've already decided something and nobody can change your mind."
Nitsi pointed at him again before quickly lowering the fork when Melissa looked her way.
"That's true!"
Tyler sighed dramatically.
"I came here for support."
"You came to the wrong family," Nitsi replied.
The conversation continued naturally after that.
School.
Homework.
Teachers.
Small neighborhood gossip.
Nothing important.
Nothing life-changing.
Just ordinary family conversation.
Tyler found himself listening more than speaking.
Partly because he enjoyed it. Partly because he knew how rare these moments truly were.
In his previous life, he spent years wishing he had appreciated them more. Now he made sure to remember every detail. The way Melissa automatically refilled everyone's water glasses.
The way Silas always listened before speaking. The way Nitsi constantly interrupted conversations with completely unrelated questions.
Normal things.
Precious things.
Things worth protecting.
A faint smile remained on Tyler's face throughout dinner.
Then suddenly, A thought entered his range. Not from inside the house.
Outside. Tyler's hand paused for a fraction of a second. Another thought followed then another.
His passive ability immediately identified the source.
Familiar. Very familiar. His smile widened slightly.
So...
It's finally happening. The thought surfaced quietly.
He continued eating as if nothing had changed.
Across the table, Melissa was explaining something to Nitsi while Silas listened absentmindedly.
The scene remained peaceful. Yet Tyler's attention had already shifted toward the front of the house.
Toward the approaching thoughts.
Toward the next piece of the timeline.
After waiting nearly three years, one of the turning points he remembered was finally approaching his doorstep.