CHAPTER 2 — CHAPTER 2 —CHAPTER 2 — CHAPTER 2 — WHEN SILENCE FEELS LOUD
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
My family—my mother, my father, my twin sister, and my little brother—left the room after making sure I had eaten a little and that the machines around me were stable. They wanted to stay longer. I could see it in their eyes.But I think they sensed I needed time.
Now, only the soft beeping of a monitor fills the room.
My hands rest weakly on the blanket as I stare at the ceiling.
A family…
Mine.
I swallow hard, feeling my chest tighten. The warmth from earlier—the way my mother hugged me, the way my father's voice broke, the trembling smile of my sister—it still lingers on my skin like afterglow.
But along with it…
Something darker rises in my throat.
Fear.
Not fear of them.Fear of me.
Fear of what this means.
Two lifetimes.Two different kinds of loneliness.Two different kinds of endings.
And suddenly—A beginning I never expected.
"What am I supposed to do…?" I whisper to the empty room.
The boy in the mirror earlier had red eyes and a starved body. A kid thrown into darkness since three years old. Someone who should've been loved, protected, raised gently.
Instead—He was kidnapped.He was abandoned to the slums.He survived by instinct alone.
And now I'm supposed to take his place.
I don't know how to be a son.Or a brother.Or part of a family.
Past life or current life…I've never belonged anywhere.
The thought burns in my chest, sharp and overwhelming.
"They waited for me… all this time."
I press a hand over my eyes as tears threaten.Not the loud ones.The quiet kind that sting more because you're not used to them.
I don't know how to accept love.It feels too heavy.Too unreal.
I'm terrified I'll ruin it.Terrified they'll look at me and realize I don't deserve them.Terrified I'll be taken from them again.
"…I don't know how to be their family," I confess softly.
The shadows in the room don't answer.But for the first time, the silence… doesn't feel lonely.
I turn on my side, gripping the blanket.
"Let me… try," I whisper.
Not a promise.Not courage.
Just a small plea from a boy who has lived too long without belonging.
Sleep slowly pulls me in.And for once, the darkness feels warm.
SIDE SCENE — FATHER'S POV (THE MOMENT HE FOUND HIS SON)
Raylen Noir stood in the middle of the market street, the night wind brushing his hair. His jacket was torn from the last dungeon expedition, blood still drying on the fabric. But he didn't care.
He rarely came to this district.Too crowded.Too loud.Too full of people moving with purpose while he moved with exhaustion.
He just wanted to go home.
Until he saw a boy—thin, ragged, barefoot—running like the world was ending.
At first, Raylen didn't react. Slum kids ran everywhere.
But then—
The boy looked up for one second.
Black hair.Red eyes.
His heart stopped.
Everything around him blurred.The street.The lanterns.The noise.
Only the boy remained in focus.
It was impossible.It was cruelly impossible.
His son died.People told him to move on.Ten years passed.
He didn't dare hope.
But those eyes—the same deep red as his.
He stepped forward, calling out before he realized it.
"Wait—!"
The boy crashed into him, trembling violently, breath short and erratic. His clothes were torn. Dirt smeared his face. His body was painfully thin—too thin.
Raylen's hands hovered over the boy's shoulders before touching.Warm.Alive.
His heart broke.
"You…" Raylen whispered, voice shaking. "It can't be…"
Then he felt it—deep inside the boy's mana core.A familiar flicker.A signature imprinted at birth.
His son.His real, living son.
Something slammed the boy from behind—a man, a criminal, knife raised. Raylen moved without thinking. His blade sliced through the air before the attacker even understood death was coming.
The slum fell silent as the body dropped.
Raylen lifted his son gently. The boy was too light, too injured. The sight burned his eyes.
"I have you," he murmured, holding the trembling child close. "I finally… have you back."
For the first time in a decade—Raylen let himself cry.
Not as a hunter.Not as an A-rank.Not as a weapon.
But as a father who had been living with a hole in his heart.
And tonight—against all odds—that hole filled again.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
My family—my mother, my father, my twin sister, and my little brother—left the room after making sure I had eaten a little and that the machines around me were stable. They wanted to stay longer. I could see it in their eyes.But I think they sensed I needed time.
Now, only the soft beeping of a monitor fills the room.
My hands rest weakly on the blanket as I stare at the ceiling.
A family…
Mine.
I swallow hard, feeling my chest tighten. The warmth from earlier—the way my mother hugged me, the way my father's voice broke, the trembling smile of my sister—it still lingers on my skin like afterglow.
But along with it…
Something darker rises in my throat.
Fear.
Not fear of them.Fear of me.
Fear of what this means.
Two lifetimes.Two different kinds of loneliness.Two different kinds of endings.
And suddenly—A beginning I never expected.
"What am I supposed to do…?" I whisper to the empty room.
The boy in the mirror earlier had red eyes and a starved body. A kid thrown into darkness since three years old. Someone who should've been loved, protected, raised gently.
Instead—He was kidnapped.He was abandoned to the slums.He survived by instinct alone.
And now I'm supposed to take his place.
I don't know how to be a son.Or a brother.Or part of a family.
Past life or current life…I've never belonged anywhere.
The thought burns in my chest, sharp and overwhelming.
"They waited for me… all this time."
I press a hand over my eyes as tears threaten.Not the loud ones.The quiet kind that sting more because you're not used to them.
I don't know how to accept love.It feels too heavy.Too unreal.
I'm terrified I'll ruin it.Terrified they'll look at me and realize I don't deserve them.Terrified I'll be taken from them again.
"…I don't know how to be their family," I confess softly.
The shadows in the room don't answer.But for the first time, the silence… doesn't feel lonely.
I turn on my side, gripping the blanket.
"Let me… try," I whisper.
Not a promise.Not courage.
Just a small plea from a boy who has lived too long without belonging.
Sleep slowly pulls me in.And for once, the darkness feels warm.
SIDE SCENE — FATHER'S POV (THE MOMENT HE FOUND HIS SON)
Raylen Noir stood in the middle of the market street, the night wind brushing his hair. His jacket was torn from the last dungeon expedition, blood still drying on the fabric. But he didn't care.
He rarely came to this district.Too crowded.Too loud.Too full of people moving with purpose while he moved with exhaustion.
He just wanted to go home.
Until he saw a boy—thin, ragged, barefoot—running like the world was ending.
At first, Raylen didn't react. Slum kids ran everywhere.
But then—
The boy looked up for one second.
Black hair.Red eyes.
His heart stopped.
Everything around him blurred.The street.The lanterns.The noise.
Only the boy remained in focus.
It was impossible.It was cruelly impossible.
His son died.People told him to move on.Ten years passed.
He didn't dare hope.
But those eyes—the same deep red as his.
He stepped forward, calling out before he realized it.
"Wait—!"
The boy crashed into him, trembling violently, breath short and erratic. His clothes were torn. Dirt smeared his face. His body was painfully thin—too thin.
Raylen's hands hovered over the boy's shoulders before touching.Warm.Alive.
His heart broke.
"You…" Raylen whispered, voice shaking. "It can't be…"
Then he felt it—deep inside the boy's mana core.A familiar flicker.A signature imprinted at birth.
His son.His real, living son.
Something slammed the boy from behind—a man, a criminal, knife raised. Raylen moved without thinking. His blade sliced through the air before the attacker even understood death was coming.
The slum fell silent as the body dropped.
Raylen lifted his son gently. The boy was too light, too injured. The sight burned his eyes.
"I have you," he murmured, holding the trembling child close. "I finally… have you back."
For the first time in a decade—Raylen let himself cry.
Not as a hunter.Not as an A-rank.Not as a weapon.
But as a father who had been living with a hole in his heart.
And tonight—against all odds—that hole filled again.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
My family—my mother, my father, my twin sister, and my little brother—left the room after making sure I had eaten a little and that the machines around me were stable. They wanted to stay longer. I could see it in their eyes.But I think they sensed I needed time.
Now, only the soft beeping of a monitor fills the room.
My hands rest weakly on the blanket as I stare at the ceiling.
A family…
Mine.
I swallow hard, feeling my chest tighten. The warmth from earlier—the way my mother hugged me, the way my father's voice broke, the trembling smile of my sister—it still lingers on my skin like afterglow.
But along with it…
Something darker rises in my throat.
Fear.
Not fear of them.Fear of me.
Fear of what this means.
Two lifetimes.Two different kinds of loneliness.Two different kinds of endings.
And suddenly—A beginning I never expected.
"What am I supposed to do…?" I whisper to the empty room.
The boy in the mirror earlier had red eyes and a starved body. A kid thrown into darkness since three years old. Someone who should've been loved, protected, raised gently.
Instead—He was kidnapped.He was abandoned to the slums.He survived by instinct alone.
And now I'm supposed to take his place.
I don't know how to be a son.Or a brother.Or part of a family.
Past life or current life…I've never belonged anywhere.
The thought burns in my chest, sharp and overwhelming.
"They waited for me… all this time."
I press a hand over my eyes as tears threaten.Not the loud ones.The quiet kind that sting more because you're not used to them.
I don't know how to accept love.It feels too heavy.Too unreal.
I'm terrified I'll ruin it.Terrified they'll look at me and realize I don't deserve them.Terrified I'll be taken from them again.
"…I don't know how to be their family," I confess softly.
The shadows in the room don't answer.But for the first time, the silence… doesn't feel lonely.
I turn on my side, gripping the blanket.
"Let me… try," I whisper.
Not a promise.Not courage.
Just a small plea from a boy who has lived too long without belonging.
Sleep slowly pulls me in.And for once, the darkness feels warm.
SIDE SCENE — FATHER'S POV (THE MOMENT HE FOUND HIS SON)
Raylen Noir stood in the middle of the market street, the night wind brushing his hair. His jacket was torn from the last dungeon expedition, blood still drying on the fabric. But he didn't care.
He rarely came to this district.Too crowded.Too loud.Too full of people moving with purpose while he moved with exhaustion.
He just wanted to go home.
Until he saw a boy—thin, ragged, barefoot—running like the world was ending.
At first, Raylen didn't react. Slum kids ran everywhere.
But then—
The boy looked up for one second.
Black hair.Red eyes.
His heart stopped.
Everything around him blurred.The street.The lanterns.The noise.
Only the boy remained in focus.
It was impossible.It was cruelly impossible.
His son died.People told him to move on.Ten years passed.
He didn't dare hope.
But those eyes—the same deep red as his.
He stepped forward, calling out before he realized it.
"Wait—!"
The boy crashed into him, trembling violently, breath short and erratic. His clothes were torn. Dirt smeared his face. His body was painfully thin—too thin.
Raylen's hands hovered over the boy's shoulders before touching.Warm.Alive.
His heart broke.
"You…" Raylen whispered, voice shaking. "It can't be…"
Then he felt it—deep inside the boy's mana core.A familiar flicker.A signature imprinted at birth.
His son.His real, living son.
Something slammed the boy from behind—a man, a criminal, knife raised. Raylen moved without thinking. His blade sliced through the air before the attacker even understood death was coming.
The slum fell silent as the body dropped.
Raylen lifted his son gently. The boy was too light, too injured. The sight burned his eyes.
"I have you," he murmured, holding the trembling child close. "I finally… have you back."
For the first time in a decade—Raylen let himself cry.
Not as a hunter.Not as an A-rank.Not as a weapon.
But as a father who had been living with a hole in his heart.
And tonight—against all odds—that hole filled again.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
My family—my mother, my father, my twin sister, and my little brother—left the room after making sure I had eaten a little and that the machines around me were stable. They wanted to stay longer. I could see it in their eyes.But I think they sensed I needed time.
Now, only the soft beeping of a monitor fills the room.
My hands rest weakly on the blanket as I stare at the ceiling.
A family…
Mine.
I swallow hard, feeling my chest tighten. The warmth from earlier—the way my mother hugged me, the way my father's voice broke, the trembling smile of my sister—it still lingers on my skin like afterglow.
But along with it…
Something darker rises in my throat.
Fear.
Not fear of them.Fear of me.
Fear of what this means.
Two lifetimes.Two different kinds of loneliness.Two different kinds of endings.
And suddenly—A beginning I never expected.
"What am I supposed to do…?" I whisper to the empty room.
The boy in the mirror earlier had red eyes and a starved body. A kid thrown into darkness since three years old. Someone who should've been loved, protected, raised gently.
Instead—He was kidnapped.He was abandoned to the slums.He survived by instinct alone.
And now I'm supposed to take his place.
I don't know how to be a son.Or a brother.Or part of a family.
Past life or current life…I've never belonged anywhere.
The thought burns in my chest, sharp and overwhelming.
"They waited for me… all this time."
I press a hand over my eyes as tears threaten.Not the loud ones.The quiet kind that sting more because you're not used to them.
I don't know how to accept love.It feels too heavy.Too unreal.
I'm terrified I'll ruin it.Terrified they'll look at me and realize I don't deserve them.Terrified I'll be taken from them again.
"…I don't know how to be their family," I confess softly.
The shadows in the room don't answer.But for the first time, the silence… doesn't feel lonely.
I turn on my side, gripping the blanket.
"Let me… try," I whisper.
Not a promise.Not courage.
Just a small plea from a boy who has lived too long without belonging.
Sleep slowly pulls me in.And for once, the darkness feels warm.
SIDE SCENE — FATHER'S POV (THE MOMENT HE FOUND HIS SON)
Raylen Noir stood in the middle of the market street, the night wind brushing his hair. His jacket was torn from the last dungeon expedition, blood still drying on the fabric. But he didn't care.
He rarely came to this district.Too crowded.Too loud.Too full of people moving with purpose while he moved with exhaustion.
He just wanted to go home.
Until he saw a boy—thin, ragged, barefoot—running like the world was ending.
At first, Raylen didn't react. Slum kids ran everywhere.
But then—
The boy looked up for one second.
Black hair.Red eyes.
His heart stopped.
Everything around him blurred.The street.The lanterns.The noise.
Only the boy remained in focus.
It was impossible.It was cruelly impossible.
His son died.People told him to move on.Ten years passed.
He didn't dare hope.
But those eyes—the same deep red as his.
He stepped forward, calling out before he realized it.
"Wait—!"
The boy crashed into him, trembling violently, breath short and erratic. His clothes were torn. Dirt smeared his face. His body was painfully thin—too thin.
Raylen's hands hovered over the boy's shoulders before touching.Warm.Alive.
His heart broke.
"You…" Raylen whispered, voice shaking. "It can't be…"
Then he felt it—deep inside the boy's mana core.A familiar flicker.A signature imprinted at birth.
His son.His real, living son.
Something slammed the boy from behind—a man, a criminal, knife raised. Raylen moved without thinking. His blade sliced through the air before the attacker even understood death was coming.
The slum fell silent as the body dropped.
Raylen lifted his son gently. The boy was too light, too injured. The sight burned his eyes.
"I have you," he murmured, holding the trembling child close. "I finally… have you back."
For the first time in a decade—Raylen let himself cry.
Not as a hunter.Not as an A-rank.Not as a weapon.
But as a father who had been living with a hole in his heart.
And tonight—against all odds—that hole filled again.