"Adam!"
He hadn't even made it to the front door when little Lina came running toward him on her stubby legs, her face lit up with a goofy grin. She threw her arms around his leg, smearing all the dirt on her face right onto his pants.
Adam, who normally had a bit of a cleanliness obsession, didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed, scooping her up and lifting her high into the air. Lina burst into giggles, eyes squinting into happy little crescents.
But as Adam smiled, his eyes shifted to the second floor—where someone was watching him.
The smile on his face faded, replaced by his usual gentle, polite expression. He set Lina down and affectionately ruffled her hair.
When he glanced back up, the figure was gone.
Adam had an excellent memory. Even if he had only seen someone once or twice, years ago, he could remember every detail—especially when he was the one who had buried them.
"You identity-stealing bastard!" a voice full of resentment hissed.
Adam didn't even turn around. He continued chatting casually with Aris and Maggie, laughing about the usual neighborhood gossip.
Aris, usually a man of few words, just sat silently in his little woodworking shed, carving away at blocks of wood. But tonight, surprisingly, he had joined the conversation, awkwardly echoing a few of Maggie's comments before retreating back into his silence.
"That care and concern... it should've been mine!"
A phantom voice snarled in his ear like a vengeful ghost. But Adam ignored it completely, unfazed.
Sure, this world might really have spirits, but ghosts—real ones—only came from beings powerful enough to leave behind lingering will. A regular teenage boy? Dead is dead.
"So this is another side effect of the bloodline awakening, huh?" Adam's gaze fell on the shadowy figure of "Adam" forming nearby. He looked at it without a trace of fear—or guilt.
He hadn't killed the real Adam. He'd just borrowed the guy's identity. And even if he had murdered the real Adam to take his place, and now his ghost had come seeking revenge, Adam would still face him head-on.
"Does every werewolf's bloodline awakening come with this kind of nonsense?" Adam mused, his nerves steady as ever. While he could handle it, he knew not every werewolf would be able to brush off such hallucinations.
"Or maybe it's just me."
He began mentally listing his unique traits.
"I've been exposed to wolfsbane. That's probably related—it's tied to werewolf bloodlines."
"I'm also a half-blood werewolf. Hybrid cases like mine aren't common."
"Maybe it's because I underwent rituals like the Divine Tear Ceremony, things connected to the church. Could've triggered something."
"Or maybe it's because I prematurely activated my perception abilities."
Adam narrowed his eyes, studying the shadowy version of himself and comparing it to the surroundings.
"Yeah, it's clearly something formed from my own perception. It's rooted in memory, not something that actually exists in the world."
"Overloaded perception, paired with the bloodline awakening... it's causing my mind to reflexively replay old memories. That's what this is."
The realization brought a flicker of irritation.
But he calmed himself quickly. Getting worked up wouldn't change the facts. Most people know that, but actually staying calm when things go south? That's a different story.
"Still, maybe this perception thing is one of my talents," he thought. "If I'm gonna develop my skills, it should be in all directions, not just combat."
"Empathy... perception... maybe that's where my gifts lie."
He didn't mind the idea. Sure, a raw power boost would be nice right now, but given his situation, empathy and perception might serve him even better.
"After all, I've been winning people over with my acting—and all of that's built on empathy and perception."
He chuckled to himself, gradually realigning his mindset.
The phantom finally faded away, and after a surprisingly hearty dinner, Adam headed upstairs.
Even though the warmth in this household wasn't truly his, being on the receiving end of genuine care still lightened his mood.
But soon enough, he reined in those emotions. He knew better than anyone—sooner or later, the truth would come out. It was just a matter of time.
The fewer unnecessary attachments he formed, the easier it would be to walk away. For everyone.
He locked the attic door behind him and settled into wait. As moonlight crept in through the window, hallucinations began again—this time, scenes of unfamiliar people and places.
"White fur... is this a journey into ancestral memory?"
Adam squinted, not the least bit startled by the visions. Instead, he calmly observed them.
They were a mess. Scenes of daily life, combat, and more adult content than he cared to see.
"Seriously? They're cramming all of this into my bloodline memories?"
He frowned. The inappropriate scenes were by far the most frequent.
"I get that reproduction's important to the survival of a species, but this is a bit much..."
He tried to filter out the useless noise and focus on the informative parts.
Close-combat techniques. Tool crafting. Wilderness tracking. Even a werewolf practicing spellwork.
That last one made him raise an eyebrow.
Most werewolves excel at physical combat. Magic-users among them were nearly nonexistent. And even in the vision, the so-called "mage werewolf" didn't do anything particularly interesting—just sat there while his aura and appearance subtly shifted.
"Not much to learn from that."
Adam shut his eyes and began resting. As the night wore on, he transformed once more.
Thud!
He bumped his head on the ceiling—apparently, he'd grown again.
Looking down at his white fur in the moonlight, he could almost see light spirits dancing across his body, merging into his skin.
Suppressing the primal urge to howl, Adam crawled out through the attic window and took off into the night, sprinting through the alleys and across rooftops.
His body leaned forward, moving on all fours. Wind rushed past him, fluffing his white fur. His speed picked up with each stride.
In that moment, it was as if his rational mind detached from his body. He was fully aware of everything he was doing—but intervening was harder than ever.
"The superego recedes... the bloodline connects raw instinct to thought. The id takes over, while the ego loses control," his inner voice mused, eerily detached.
If you went by psychological theory, the mind was made up of the id, ego, and superego. Normally, Adam functioned as the ego—moderating between instinct and morality.
But now, the id had taken over his body. And his conscious mind—his ego—had become pure reason, disconnected from the chaos.
Usually, the ego could still rein in the id. But now, thanks to the bloodline awakening, that ability had weakened.
"The bloodline amplifies the id... suppresses the ego. Without the ego as a buffer, the superego can't hold back the id's impulses."
"But thankfully, my mental state has always been solid. My id, ego, and superego are pretty balanced."
What discord he did have came from pushing himself through suffering to achieve his goals.
Still, the ultimate goal was to escape that suffering. So the id didn't need much—just a little release, and it would fall back in line.
"Might as well let loose a little."
His ego wasn't too worried. In id-mode, Adam's instincts were sharper than ever. He could sense danger coming and dodge it in a heartbeat.
After all, the id was basically a coward—it feared pain, sought pleasure, and avoided anything unpleasant. Add in those heightened senses, and Adam in this state was probably the least likely to do anything reckless.
Once the ego understood all that, it simply stopped interfering.
Sure enough, before long, Adam regained control of his body. He ended the transformation and quickly retrieved his robes and mask.
Now it was time to get back to work.