Lucivar was no stranger to pain.
Be it the pain from having his entire body crushed—and reformed anew, or the excruciating pain from a heartbreak when his childhood friend betrayed him, or when his mother agreed to sell him for money as if he were nothing but garbage.
He still remembered the tightness inside his chest.
Still remembered the trembling in his fingers, as if even his hands refused to belong to him anymore.
Still remembered the sharp sting in his throat, the kind that made every swallow feel like glass.
Still remembered the pounding in his skull, each throb echoing the truth he wished he could unhear.
Still remember the way his vision wavered, as though the world itself was slipping out of reach.
Each of them was engraved into him so deeply that forgetting it was impossible.
And now, those sensations came back again.
Brak!
Lucivar lost his balance as he knocked over the table, causing the tableware on it to fall and shatter.
Nobody heard the commotion.
