Sunridge City
The road stretched quietly ahead of us—packed earth softened by years of travel, winding gently toward the distant silhouette of city walls barely visible on the horizon.
Ai walked slightly ahead, the thick hemp rope of her small wagon looped across her shoulder. Each step she took made the wooden wheels creak softly against the dirt path.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
The rhythm was slow and unhurried, perfectly matching the careful, measured pace Viole was forced to keep. Even now, his legs still felt dangerously unreliable, every step carrying a sharp, lingering reminder of how close this body had been to collapsing for good.
Yet somehow… the road didn't feel lonely.
Ai seemed to notice whenever his steps slowed. Without a word, she subtly adjusted her own pace to match his.
Small things like that are easy to miss, I thought from deep within the quiet dark of Viole's mind. But from where I am… I notice.
After several minutes of quiet walking, the landscape began to open around us. The road curved along gentle, rolling hills dotted with tall grasses that swayed rhythmically under the warm afternoon breeze, mixing the faint scent of fresh lavender from Ai's wagon with the earthy smell of sun-baked soil.
Ai glanced sideways again, her wide lake-blue eyes lingering on him for a brief second before she quickly snapped her gaze back to the road ahead. Then sideways again. She was clearly wrestling with a thought—or more accurately, trying to gather the courage to speak.
Eventually, the silence broke. "Um… Viole?"
Her voice carried that same soft, delicate hesitation as before.
"Yes?" His reply came a little easier this time. Still weak, but noticeably steadier.
Ai's fingers tightened slightly around the rope on her shoulder. "…The monster you mentioned." She paused, a genuine hint of concern flickering across her features. "Do you… remember what it looked like?"
Viole quieted, searching through his mind. Even inside his body, I could feel the memory stirring—a sudden, cold drop in his chest.
"…Large," he began slowly. "…Larger than a wolf. It had black fur… but parts of its body looked… wrong."
Ai tilted her head, her honey-blonde hair swaying gently over her shoulder. "Wrong?"
"…Like the fur didn't grow naturally," he frowned, the ghost of fear tightening his jaw. "…More like it was spreading. Almost like rotting."
Ai's footsteps slowed to a crawl. "…Rotting?"
Viole nodded grimly. "And its eyes… they were blood red."
Silence descended upon the dirt path once more, heavy and suffocating. The wooden wagon creaked softly behind them as Ai's expression shifted, a shadow of real worry clouding her clear eyes.
"…That's strange," she murmured softly, her gaze drifting toward the distant, hazy northeastern horizon where the dark treeline lay hidden beyond the hills. "Verdant Hollow Forest doesn't usually have monsters like that. My village sometimes gathers herbs there, too."
Viole glanced over at her, surprised. "…You do?"
"Mostly near the outer edge," Ai nodded faintly, her voice dropping into a tender, quiet register. "My parents taught me how to recognize medicinal plants… before they passed away."
Ah.
The missing pieces aligned instantly. Why she possessed the skill to craft such potent potions. Why she traveled this long road alone with a wagon of remedies. Why she looked so young, yet held herself with such quiet resilience.
Viole didn't pry. He simply offered a firm, quiet nod. "…They must have been very skilled."
Ai blinked in surprise, her eyes widening slightly before a soft, genuine smile warmed her face. "…They were."
For a fleeting moment, the shy village girl looked radiant.
Far ahead of us, the towering stone ramparts of the city slowly expanded against the bright afternoon sky. The journey was still long, but step by step, the two of them continued forward.
The packed earth path widened gradually as it swallowed the surrounding wilderness, the scattered grasses giving way to smooth, heavily trampled ground shaped by years of heavy wheel traffic.
In the distance, something massive rose above the rolling terrain.
Stone.
At first, it appeared as nothing more than a solid grey line bisecting the landscape. But as they closed the distance, the colossal structure revealed itself—high stone ramparts standing resolutely against the sky, their weathered surfaces glowing faintly beneath the harsh sun while massive watchtowers cut sharp silhouettes against the blue horizon.
Sunridge City.
The name surfaced in my mind the exact moment Viole's eyes locked onto those familiar, towering walls. It didn't come from my own memories, but from his—fragments of knowledge unlocking like an opening door, pouring fresh information directly into my consciousness.
Sunridge City. A major trade hub nestled along the eastern region of the Thaloria Kingdom, acting as the primary market for surrounding rural settlements.
Viole had walked this dirt road dozens of times. Through his eyes, I was inheriting a world I had never known.
Beyond these high stone walls lay the sprawling lands of the Central Continent—the heart of the world, governed by the Thaloria Kingdom. A nation renowned not for political dominance, but for three distinct elements that drew travelers from across the sea: Adventurers. Dungeons. Relics.
The world itself was divided across five distinct continents, arranged across the vast oceans like the points of a star. To the north lay the frozen iron peaks of Aldrynn Kingdom; to the east, the vast, magical canopy of Sylvara; to the south, the harsh desert trade empire of Kaelara; and across the western seas rested the maritime nation of Velmora.
And right at the center of the world sat Thaloria—the vast crossroads where thousands gathered to brave the depths of dangerous dungeons.
Those grand historical thoughts evaporated the moment the bustling reality of the city gate pressed in around us.
The road had grown thick with traffic. Heavy wooden supply wagons rumbled along the road while armed guards passively observed incoming travelers. Ai slowed her pace slightly as they joined the line, her eyes scanning the colossal wooden gates reinforced with thick iron bands.
"…We're almost there," she murmured, a mix of relief and awe lacing her tone.
As they passed beneath the shadow of the massive stone gatehouse, the temperature plunged for a brief, refreshing second before exploding into the vibrant, sunlit heat of the city interior.
The transformation was absolute.
Dirt paths gave way to smooth cobblestone streets. Multi-story wooden and brick buildings lined the wide thoroughfares, their tiled roofs and carved balconies stretching deep into the heart of the city. Street vendors shouted their wares over the crowd, the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread mingled with roast meats, and the deafening hum of city life filled the air.
Sunridge City was teeming with life.
Ai paused just past the inner archway, orienting herself before glancing back at Viole. "The healer's clinic is this way," she offered softly, gently adjusting the heavy strap across her chest. "We should get your wounds checked properly."
Despite her rudimentary field dressings, her worry hadn't diminished in the slightest. And feeling the dull, throbbing ache lingering deep in Viole's ribs, I couldn't help but agree.
According to Viole's memories, Sunridge was designed with practical efficiency: each of its four main gates featured a dedicated medical clinic nearby, ensuring injured adventurers returning from perilous quests didn't collapse in the streets before receiving aid.
As they navigated the crowded thoroughfare, Viole broke his quiet reserve. "…Ai."
She looked up at him instantly. "Y-Yes?"
"…The potions you used earlier," he began, his voice strained but steady. "They were remarkably effective. Much more than I expected." He hesitated, his eyes lingering on the tight bandages around his chest. "I didn't carry any potions because they're far too expensive in the city... So if those were costly, I won't be able to pay you back immediately."
He looked her dead in the eye. "…But I will repay every copper."
Ai stopped dead in her tracks. "…Eh?" Her wide eyes blinked in sheer confusion. "T-There's no need for that! My potions aren't expensive at all!"
Viole frowned slightly. "…Not expensive?"
"I sell them for fifteen copper coins per bottle," she explained, nodding earnestly.
Silence fell over Viole. But deep within his mind, I felt the sharp spike of shock that hit him.
Fifteen copper coins.
That was the standard price for a bottom-shelf, low-grade potion sold in commercial alchemy shops—a weak draught meant only for minor scrapes and bruises. But the concoction Ai had splashed over his body had literally closed a fatal, gaping wound and knitted torn muscle within seconds.
That wasn't a low potion. It wasn't even an average mid-tier draught.
It was bordering on a high-grade elixir. And she was practically giving it away.
"…Ai," Viole said, his tone laced with genuine concern. "You might not realize this, but potions of your quality could easily sell for ten times that price in the city. If the local shops catch wind of this, they'll demand you raise your rates." He paused, his expression solemn. "If you want to raise the price, you should. And I'll still pay you back, even if it takes me months."
Ai stared at him for a quiet moment, then shook her head with absolute resolve.
"No. I won't raise the price."
Viole blinked, caught off guard. "…Why?"
"Well…" Ai lowered her gaze slightly, her hands clutching the wagon rope as they resumed walking. "The herbs around Lunareth Village grow everywhere. The forests and plains are full of them, so gathering ingredients costs me almost nothing. The actual cost to craft a bottle is only ten coppers."
She offered a small, shy smile. "So at fifteen coppers, I still make a tiny profit."
Her logic was straightforward and practical. But then, her voice softened further, carrying a deep, unspoken warmth.
"…Besides, if I make them too expensive, the people in my village won't be able to afford them. Farmers, herbalists, hunters—they get hurt all the time. If my potions are overpriced, they'll hesitate to buy them when they're in pain." She looked up, her lake-blue eyes burning with quiet, unshakeable conviction. "So I keep the price low. That way, anyone who needs help can get it."
It wasn't an act of grand heroism or foolish naivety. It was simply her core nature—a quiet, practical kindness.
Viole stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment before letting out a soft breath. "…I see."
He didn't push the matter any further.
Not long after, a modest stone building appeared along the avenue, marked by a wooden sign depicting a simple cloth-bound staff.
The clinic was a sanctuary of calm compared to the chaotic streets outside. The moment the heavy oak door shut behind them, the soothing aroma of dried chamomile, crushed mint, and clean linen washed over them. Shelves lined every wall, overflowing with glass vials, neatly rolled bandages, and jars of ground powders.
"Oh?" A calm, melodic voice greeted them from behind the main counter. "Well, if it isn't a familiar face."
A woman in her mid-twenties stepped forward, clad in the pale white and green robes of a certified practitioner. Her long, ash-brown hair hung in a loose ponytail, and a gleaming silver emblem rested over her chest.
Her sharp eyes locked onto Viole, and her lips thinned into a weary line.
"…You again?" She let out a long, dramatic sigh, resting her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Viole, at this rate I should just install a bronze plaque with your name over one of the recovery beds."
Ai blinked in surprise while Viole scratched the back of his neck, looking deeply embarrassed.
"…Hello, Mira."
Mira stepped around the counter, crossing her arms as her critical gaze swept over his blood-soaked clothes. "Let me guess. Monster trouble again?"
"…Something like that."
She shook her head with fond exasperation before offering Ai a polite, warm smile. "And you must be the poor saint who dragged this suicidal adventurer back to civilization."
Ai immediately stood up straight, her face flushing. "A-Ah—yes! I… I only applied basic first aid!"
"Good enough to keep him breathing, at least," Mira noted, stepping closer.
As she approached, the silver insignia pinned to her robe caught the sunlight streaming through the window. Instantly, a wave of structured information flooded my awareness, blending Viole's world knowledge with my own analytical thoughts.
In this world, combat capability isn't just arbitrary—it's structured through a universally recognized classification system comprised of Combat Classes, Jobs, and Proficiency Ranks. There were no glowing video game menus floating in the air, but the Adventurer's Guild used specialized evaluation tools to measure a person's exact proficiency, which was then displayed on official insignias.
Mira's insignia marked her as a Mage Class with a Healer Job, holding a B-Rank proficiency. A B-Rank Healer running a local gate clinic was highly overqualified, but undeniably effective.
Viole's own mental file reflected a much humbler status: Blade Class, Swordsman Job, with D-Rank proficiency. Meanwhile, Ai wore no insignia at all—marking her as a Noncombatant, a civilian pursuing a peaceful trade.
Mira carefully unraveled the makeshift bandages around Viole's ribs, her relaxed expression instantly hardening into sharp concentration.
"…Hmm." She ran a finger near the knit flesh, casting a stunned glance at Ai. "Well now… you did far more than 'basic treatment.'"
Ai froze. "Eh?"
"This wound was easily fatal," Mira said flatly, pointing at the long, jagged red line across his torso. "The blade or claw pierced deep. And yet, the muscle tissue has already fused back together." She narrowed her eyes at Viole. "What did you drink?"
"…Her potion," Viole answered quietly.
Mira raised a single eyebrow, impressed, but refrained from prying further into an apothecary's secret recipe. Instead, she hovered her palm an inch above his chest.
"Hold still."
A soft, brilliant emerald light burst from her hand, washing over Viole's torso like a cool, soothing wave.
Healing Magic.
The agonizing, deep-seated ache in his ribs dissolved in seconds. The tight knot in his lungs loosened, allowing a full, painless breath to fill his chest for the first time all day.
Mira pulled her hand back, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead. "There. No internal bleeding, no damaged organs. You'll live to make bad decisions another day." She walked back to her counter, tapping her ledger. "That will be five copper coins."
Viole produced five small copper pieces from his pouch and set them on the wood.
As they turned to leave, Mira leaned against the doorframe, calling out to Viole's retreating back. "Hey. You know… most adventurers eventually learn how to avoid becoming my top investor."
Ai looked between them nervously.
"You seriously need to find a party, Viole," Mira added, her banter dropping into genuine concern. "Solo adventurers don't last long in this business."
Viole offered a self-deprecating smirk. "…Yeah. I'll try not to die before my next checkup."
"That's the exact deflection you always give," she huffed, waving them off with a shake of her head. "Just don't make me write your obituary."
As they stepped back into the vibrant sunlight, a heavy thought stirred within Viole's mind—the real, unspoken reason he refused to join a party.
It wasn't arrogance. It was simple math.
His D-Rank combat proficiency was far higher than the average Silver-Rank adventurer. Whenever he joined temporary quest groups, the disparity meant he inevitably ended up carrying the entire team, taking all the lethal risks while splitting the reward equally. Or worse, being used as meat-shield bait by unscrupulous veterans.
Trust in this world is a luxury few can afford.
As they navigated toward the massive Adventurer's Guild, both of them broke the silence simultaneously.
"Um—"
"…Hey."
They both froze, glancing at each other. Ai quickly ducked her head, her cheeks dusting pink. "Ah—sorry! You go first!"
Viole rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "…About earlier. You heard what Mira said—I end up in that clinic way too often. City potions are overpriced and barely stop the bleeding, but yours…" He looked her directly in the eye, his tone deadly earnest. "Yours saved my life. I want to buy a standing supply from you for emergencies."
Ai blinked, her eyes widening into huge, expressive circles. "…Ah! That's actually what I was going to ask you!"
She tapped the frame of her wooden cart timidly. "I only travel to the city once a week, on every First day. I usually bring my excess stock to the Adventurer's Guild because the local staff lets me set up a small table." She tilted her head, inspecting the brass plate on his chest. "Um… Viole? Your Insignia is Blade Class, right? D-Rank proficiency?"
Viole nodded. "That's right."
I silently marvelled at her sharp observation—for a rural civilian, her ability to instantly read combat insignias was remarkably polished.
Ai's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "…Then why are you still a Silver-Rank adventurer? I heard the guild receptionists say that D-Rank proficiency is the core requirement for Platinum Rank."
Viole let out a dry, tired laugh as they resumed walking. "If only it were that simple. Proficiency is just the baseline—it proves you know how to swing a sword without cutting your own leg off. To actually rank up, you need documented achievements."
Through his memories, the Guild's strict ranking ladder unlocked in my mind. Adventurers started at Copper Rank before climbing through Iron, Silver, and Gold. Beyond lay the elite ranks: Platinum, Mythril, Orichalcum, and finally Adamantite.
Ranks from Copper to Gold handled basic gathering, escorts, and low-level monster culls. But stepping into Platinum required clearing accredited Dungeons, retrieving certified Relics, and slaying a confirmed D-Rank monster single-handedly—a terrifying feat for any solo fighter.
"D-Rank monsters are nightmarish compared to wild beasts," Viole explained quietly. "Handling one alone is suicide for most Silver-ranks."
"…Which brings us back to why you need a party," Ai noted softly, her eyes filled with gentle empathy.
Viole went quiet, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. "…I've tried. But when your proficiency outpaces your peers, people tend to rely on you until you break. Or they use you."
Ai didn't push. She simply walked beside him, offering her quiet, comforting presence as the massive silhouette of the Adventurer's Guild loomed over the street ahead.
The building was imposing—a reinforced stone fortress emblazoned with the iconic guild emblem: two crossed swords behind a polished crest.
The moment Viole pushed open the heavy double doors, a wave of noise, heat, and atmosphere hit us like a physical wall.
The main Reception Hall was massive. To the left stood the colossal Request Board, plastered with hundreds of parchment quest fliers surrounded by armored mercenaries. To the right sat the Appraisal Counter, where glittering monster cores and dungeon loot were being weighed.
And right in the center of the bustling chaos—
"—Ai!"
A bright, energetic voice cut through the clamor.
Leaning over one of the polished oak reception desks was a young woman in a crisp guild uniform—a dark vest over a white blouse, her long, copper-orange hair tied into a high ponytail that swung excitedly as she waved. Her amber eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence and warm familiarity.
A brass nameplate on her desk read: Liora.
"You're right on time this week!" Liora beamed as Ai hurried over with her cart.
"Y-Yes! I finished brewing last night," Ai replied, glowing under her friend's enthusiasm.
Liora's sharp gaze slid past Ai, landing directly on Viole.
"Oh?" Recognition flashed across her face, followed by a mischievous grin. "Well, if it isn't Sunridge's most overworked Silver-rank."
Viole offered a polite, tired nod. "…Hello, Liora."
Liora's eyes darted between Viole's bandaged frame and Ai's shy blush. One of her orange eyebrows lifted in deep suspicion.
"Wait a second…" She crossed her arms, leaning forward over the desk. "Since when do you two know each other?"
Viole answered flatly, without missing a beat.
"…We met three hours ago on a dirt road while I was bleeding to death."
Liora's energetic expression faltered slightly at Viole's flat response.
Her amber eyes drifted down, taking in the state of his attire—or rather, what was left of it. The leather chestpiece was scratched and gouged, his tunic was torn at the shoulder, and faint, freshly knit pink skin peeked through the shredded cloth along his ribs.
She let out a long, heavy sigh, massaging the bridge of her nose.
"Oh, come on, Viole." Her tone shifted seamlessly into something that sounded suspiciously like Mira's lecture from ten minutes ago. "You look like you got run over by a runaway monster cart AGAIN."
Viole didn't bother denying it. "…Something like that."
Liora crossed her arms, leaning back against her counter desk. "You know, I'm honestly impressed."
Ai tilted her head, clutching her wagon's harness. "Impressed?"
"That someone can reach D-Rank combat proficiency while still being such a complete disaster magnet," Liora deadpanned.
Viole sighed softly, looking thoroughly exhausted.
"You're easily one of the hardest-working Silver-rank adventurers we have in this hall," Liora continued, her playful demeanor softening into genuine concern. "That's obvious to anyone who watches you take job after job. But if you ever want to step up to Gold or Platinum…" She leveled a sharp finger directly at his chest. "You seriously need to learn how to stop taking lethal risks."
Viole gave a quiet nod, his eyes fixed on the desk. "…Yeah."
His response came effortlessly—far too effortlessly. It was the rehearsed, automatic answer of someone who had heard this exact speech a hundred times before and simply knew how to nod until it was over.
Then, perhaps to escape further scolding from the sharp-witted receptionist, Viole skillfully redirected the conversation. "…How do you two know each other?"
Liora's amber eyes lit up instantly, the lecture completely forgotten.
"Oh, that?" She leaned over the counter toward Ai with a wide grin. "I still remember the very first time we met."
Ai's cheeks flushed pink, and she immediately looked down at her shoes. "I-It wasn't that big of a deal…"
"Oh, it absolutely was!" Liora ignored her protest with a wave of her hand. "The first time Ai ever came to Sunridge, she was standing right outside the main guild doors." She gestured toward the massive oak entrance behind us. "Dragging that exact same little wooden wagon."
Ai fidgeted, her ears turning a faint, betraying red.
"She looked like she desperately wanted to talk to someone, but she was far too shy to approach any of the scary, adventurers walking in and out," Liora chuckled softly. "So I stepped outside on my break and asked her what she was selling."
Liora shrugged casually. "Turned out she had handcrafted potions and remedies. So I asked how much she wanted for them."
Ai spoke up in a barely audible whisper. "…Fifteen copper coins."
"Which, by the way, I thought was suspiciously cheap," Liora nodded, flashing a knowing look at Viole. "I figured it was either watered-down river water or she didn't know her own work's worth. So I brought her inside the guild hall to sit down properly."
She gestured grandly toward the bustling room around them. "At first, only a few desperate adventurers bought a bottle or two. But once they actually used them in the field…" She spread her hands. "Word spread like wildfire."
Liora pointed proudly at the wagon behind Ai. "And now she comes every single week on First day with a fresh batch, and her stock sells out before noon."
Throughout the entire story, Ai had stood there in quiet, endearing embarrassment, ducking her head while the two of them spoke about her as if she weren't standing right in front of them.
Liora suddenly turned her sharp gaze back onto Viole. "Oh, and since you've already experienced her brewing firsthand…" A mischievous smile curled her lips. "I expect you to become one of her regular customers, too."
Viole nodded without hesitation. "…That's the plan."
Ai looked between the two of them, her lake-blue eyes wide with timid surprise.
A brief, comfortable silence settled over the reception counter as the ambient noise of the guild hall hummed around them.
Then, Ai broke the quiet. "…Um."
Both Viole and Liora turned toward her.
Ai looked at Viole, her eyes filled with clear, quiet concern. "Shouldn't you rest for the remainder of the day? Even if your external wounds are healed by magic… your body probably needs time to recover from the strain."
Viole didn't offer a single argument. That alone proved how thoroughly drained he actually was.
"…Yeah," he conceded softly.
He reached toward the small leather pouch at his belt, pulling out a folded piece of parchment and placing it on the counter. "But before I go… the herb gathering commission."
Liora picked up the paper, checking the guild stamp. "I'll finish processing the reward paperwork tomorrow." She offered a casual wave. "Sure. No problem at all."
Viole turned back toward Ai. "…By the way."
Ai straightened slightly, her hands clasping together. "H-Yes?"
"How many potions did you use on me earlier?"
Ai immediately shook her head, waving her hands in front of her face. "No, please—it's completely fine—"
"It's bad business if you refuse payment for goods that saved my life," Viole cut her off gently, his voice firm but quiet.
Ai hesitated, clearly torn between her polite nature and practical reality. Eventually, under his steady gaze, she gave a small, defeated nod. "…Two bottles."
Viole carefully counted out copper coins from his pouch, placing two small stacks on the polished wooden counter. Thirty copper coins.
Then, he slid a third stack of fifteen coins next to them.
"And that's for one more bottle to take with me now."
Ai blinked in surprise, looking at the extra coins. "But—"
"I'll buy more the next time you come to the city," he stated plainly, accepting the fresh vial she offered. Matter-of-fact. Direct.
He gave a polite nod to both women. "…I'll head home now."
And without another word, he turned and walked out of the Adventurer's Guild.
The walk to his home was short, navigating down quiet cobblestone side streets away from the roaring central market.
Which was where a sudden, nagging question surfaced in my mind.
Wait a minute… Hold on.
How in the world do you own a private residence in a major trade hub… but barely have enough coppers to buy a single low-grade potion?
The moment the thought formed inside my consciousness, the answer unlocked smoothly from Viole's passive memories.
Inheritance.
The house hadn't been purchased through his modest income as a Silver-rank adventurer. It had belonged to his parents—veteran adventurers who had built a quiet life in Sunridge until they were killed during a Dungeon Outbreak several years ago.
Ah.
That made sense. The solid stone house wasn't a sign of wealth; it was simply the last remaining anchor his parents had left behind in this world.
Viole pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the quiet, cool interior of a small, rustic home. He moved straight for the washroom without pausing.
His armor and linen shirt were stiff with dried blood, smelling heavily of copper and dirt. He stripped away the ruined garments, letting them drop to the stone floor, and bent over the ceramic basin. He splashed cool water over his face and torso, scrubbing away the grime and bloodstains from the day's brutal fight.
Eventually, he lifted his head.
Water droplets trickled down his skin as he looked into the framed glass mirror mounted above the basin.
For a brief, suspended second—
My thoughts completely stopped.
The face staring back at us possessed a sharp, striking quality that felt almost uncanny within such a battered, everyday setting.
His complexion was pale—chillingly so, like fresh mountain snow untouched by the sun. Against that pale canvas, his dark hair and eyes stood out with intense contrast.
And those eyes—
Deep. Dark red.
Like freshly poured wine held against the light, or glowing embers smoldering in a dying fire. They were framed by thick dark lashes beneath straight, refined brows that carried the faint, permanent trace of a weary frown.
Despite his youth, there was a strange, heavy stillness in his gaze. A quiet weight, as if he were constantly looking through the world around him rather than simply at it.
His long black hair was tied loosely into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, though several jagged strands had escaped the binding, framing the sharp angles of his face. Without armor hiding his frame, the clean elegance of his structure became unmistakable—high cheekbones, a sharp, defined jawline, and a lean, lithe build built for speed and precision.
There were no visible scars on his face. Nothing that openly betrayed the violent life he lived.
And yet—
The longer I stared into that mirror through Viole's eyes…
The more a cold, surreal realization slowly crept up my spine.
That face.
That bone structure.
Those dark red eyes.
It felt… impossibly familiar.
My mind raced, searching through the fog of my previous life before waking up inside this body.
Wait… No.
There's no way.
I leaned forward in his mind, examining every sharp contour, every jagged lock of black hair, every subtle detail reflected in the glass.
The longer I looked—the more absolute the truth became.
The face staring back from the mirror…
Was my own.
Or rather—Viole's face and my original face were identical down to the last detail.