Adyr stared into the tomato soup— and the soup stared back.
Two round shapes floated on the surface, still and watching.
Soon, everything began to shift.
His vision tinted red, slowly bleeding over the room until everything matched the color of the soup.
He felt it.
He knew what was coming.
The inevitable. But it was already too late.
Then came the voice.
"Son."
Flat. Cold. Distant.
It echoed—not from the room, but from somewhere far closer.
"Stop," Adyr blurted out, his voice shaking. But the voice didn't stop.
"Son."
Instinctively, he shut his eyes tight. Darkness had always been his sanctuary.
But even there, it found him. "Son. Eat your meal. We wouldn't want your sister to go to waste… would we?"
His eyes flew open, desperate to escape. But light only brought the vision with it.
He saw the face. She was young, with long blond hair.
She stared at him with hollow, empty sockets where her eyes used to be.
Tears, thick and red, streamed down her pale cheeks.
Then her lips, almost colorless, parted.
"Brother."
And just like that, it was gone.
The red faded.
The dead face vanished.
In its place was Niva, her expression tight with worry, her voice gentle. "Brother? Are you okay?"
Adyr looked at her with unfocused eyes, trying to convince himself that he was truly back, that the childhood trauma had passed.
"I'm…" He tried to speak, but his breathing was still too erratic. "…fine."
"I'm sorry," Niva said softly, her voice full of concern as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, offering what little comfort she could. "I didn't know the trauma was still there."
Of course, the trauma she meant wasn't the real one—from his dark past life—but the one he had carefully fabricated in this world.
After being reincarnated, Adyr was found as a baby outside the city walls and brought to the city orphanage. He lived there for eight years before Marielle, who worked at the orphanage, adopted him into her home.
And whenever someone asked about his odd behaviors—like why he couldn't stand soup—he always pointed to the orphanage and its awful kitchen staff.
"It's okay. It's not your fault," Adyr said quietly, letting his sister comfort him.
"I'll make you something else. You don't have to eat this," Niva replied quickly, grabbing the bowl of soup and hurrying back into the kitchen.
It's been happening more often… And this time, I almost didn't come back, Adyr thought, gently setting down the spoon he'd been gripping tightly. A faint smear of blood marked the handle and his fingers. That sharp sting, subtle but grounding, had snapped him back just in time.
Pain, as always, was the only thing strong enough to anchor him to reality.
He grabbed a napkin and wiped the blood away just as Niva returned with a plate in her hands.
"We still had some canned salami, so I made you a sandwich. Is that okay?" Niva asked softly, concern lacing her voice.
"It's perfect. Thanks," he replied with a small, tired smile, raising the sandwich to take a bite—only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Is that Marielle?" He asked, lowering the sandwich slightly.
"I don't think it's Mom. She said she'd be working late," Niva said, already heading toward the hallway. "I'll get it. You go ahead and eat."
Shortly after, Niva returned with a large box in her arms, a puzzled and surprised look on her face.
"This came for you," she said, setting it on the table.
The box wasn't particularly heavy, but it was definitely large. That wasn't what surprised her, though. In the city, all deliveries went through a single logistics agency, and their services weren't cheap. Whoever sent this had to have money to spare.
"Do you know what it is? Who sent it?" She asked eagerly, inching closer, clearly hoping her brother would open it right away.
Adyr stood and calmly began unboxing the package, showing no hint of surprise, almost like he'd been expecting it all along. As he lifted the flaps, a small note sat neatly on top, waiting to be read.
"YOU JERK."
He exhaled softly through his nose—a sound caught between a sigh and a smirk.
"It's from a friend," he said casually.
Niva leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity.
As he pulled back the last flap and revealed what was inside, she let out a sharp gasp.
"Wait… is that a game helmet?!"
Like everyone else across all twelve cities, Niva had also heard the buzz about the upcoming VRMMO. But beyond all the excitement, what stuck with her most was how expensive the gear was—and this was no small gift.
"I can't wait to pass the entrance exams and start making rich friends like you," Niva sighed dramatically.
She also wanted to play the game—who didn't? But according to the online forums, once a game helmet was activated, it synced to the user's brainwaves and couldn't be used by anyone else. So borrowing her brother's wasn't an option.
As she mulled it over, turning the thought into fuel for her study motivation, a sudden knock at the door snapped her out of it.
"Now, who could that be?" She mumbled, blinking away the daydream.
She went to the door again and returned with another box—this one even bigger, balanced carefully in her arms.
"Let me guess. Another rich friend?" She said with a raised eyebrow.
"I guess?" Adyr replied, his tone uncertain. Unlike before, he hadn't been expecting this one.
As he opened the box, the first thing that greeted him was a cake sealed inside a clear container. It was covered in a rich red glaze and decorated with what looked like fresh, glossy cherries.
"Ahhhh! Is that a cake?! Are those cherries? Sour cherries?!" Niva squealed like a fangirl, her eyes lighting up. She looked even more excited than when she saw the game helmet earlier—and honestly, who could blame her? A cake with fresh fruit on top was the kind of luxury someone in her shoes might only taste once, maybe twice a year if she was lucky.
She quickly lifted the cake out of the box, and beneath it sat another game helmet… along with a note.
Unlike Victor's sloppy one, this note was written on eye-catching pink paper with a faint, sweet aroma clinging to it. The handwriting was elegant and deliberate—clearly someone had put effort into it.
A small gesture to show my gratitude. I hope you'll accept it. And at the bottom, like a signature, was the name: Selina White.
"Selina White?" Niva forcefully tore her eyes away from the cake, squinting at the name on the note. "Why does that sound familiar?" She muttered, thinking out loud. A second later, recognition hit her. "Wait—what?! No way. That's her?!"
"You know her?" Adyr asked, genuinely curious.
Niva spun around, looking at him like he'd just asked if water was wet. "What do you mean do I know her? Of course I do! Everyone my age knows who Selina White is."
She began counting on her fingers, her voice buzzing with excitement.
"She was ranked number one in Young Influentials Monthly, super famous for her charity work—especially with orphans—crazy smart, and I mean, come on, have you seen her? She's absolutely gorgeous."
Then her tone shifted, a bit more serious. "And her mom? Chairwoman of the Angel Wing Foundation. Also happens to own the orphanage where our mom works." She paused, a doubtful look crossing her face as she asked.
"…Brother. Are you seriously dating our mom's boss's daughter?"
"I'm just helping her with her piano lessons," Adyr replied casually as he slowly lifted the game helmet out of the box.
"Piano lessons? Since when do you know how to play piano?" Niva asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. But before she could press further, Adyr cut in.
"It's for you," he said, holding the helmet out toward her.
For a moment, Niva stared at the sleek, gray device in his hands—its design almost like a motorcycle helmet, only without the visor.
Adyr watched her face shift through a dozen expressions, as if she were arguing with herself internally. Finally, she spoke.
"I think you should send it back," she said softly. "It's way too expensive. I can't accept something like that." Then, after a short pause, she added, "And with the entrance exams just two months away, I don't want to get distracted by a game."
"That's a smart call," Adyr replied with a smile, placing the helmet back in the box. He reached for the cake next, intending to return it too, only to be stopped by her hand, firm and unyielding.
"Leave the cake," Niva said, her voice steady and her expression uncharacteristically serious.
It was clear the cake was staying.