The rain fell with a cold, quiet insistence, as if the sky itself shared his grief.
Kyle stood before two neighboring graves, their stone markers soaked, the ground beneath his feet muddy from how often he had visited this place. He no longer felt anything—sorrow had drained every emotion he had left.
In a hoarse whisper, he murmured:
"I'm sorry… again."
Those were the only words he could offer.
He knew well that their deaths had never been an "accident," no matter what anyone else said.
It had been his fault…
And that truth tormented him every single night.
He remained there for a long while—far longer than his exhausted body could bear—before finally turning away, dragging himself back toward the small apartment where he had lived alone ever since that day.
---
When he opened the door, chaos greeted him. It looked as if someone had torn the place apart: books scattered across the floor, papers ripped, the bed left unmade for days.
But he didn't care.
"I'll clean tomorrow…" he muttered lifelessly.
He collapsed onto the bed, offering no resistance as sleep claimed him.
Maybe his mind simply wanted to escape his shattered reality… even if only for a few hours.
---
✦ …But when he opened his eyes, he didn't find the familiar ceiling of his room.
The ceiling above him was smooth, painted in a calm gray unfamiliar to anything he knew.
He slowly lifted his head and found himself lying on a wide bed draped in silk sheets—so luxurious he had never touched anything like them. The walls around him were clean, refined, softly lit… an apartment entirely unlike his old, cramped one.
No piles of books.
No torn papers.
No lingering smell of dampness.
Just a quiet, elegant… unfamiliar room.
"…Where am I?" he whispered, tension tightening his voice.
He sat up abruptly, breathing hard. His body… his hair… his hands… everything felt wrong, as though none of it belonged to him. He staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall, his eyes darting around for anything that could anchor him to reality.
Then he saw it.
A tall mirror in the corner of the room.
He approached it—step by careful step—until his reflection came into view… and froze.
The person staring back at him wasn't Kyle.
His hair was completely white, soft, cascading over his shoulders as if lit from within.
His right eye was a pure, icy blue… while the left glowed gold, radiant and strange, sending a chill up his spine.
His face was sharper… calmer… and far more striking than anything he had ever seen in the mirror.
His body was slightly taller, his shoulders broader, his muscles refined with a precision he had never possessed.
This wasn't just a change in appearance.
It was an entirely different body.
His voice trembled as he whispered:
"…This isn't me."
He didn't know whether to feel fear… shock… or suffocation from the sheer impossibility of it all.
But before he could gather his thoughts, a translucent window of light suddenly materialized before him, glowing gently.
---
✦ [Status Window]
It appeared exactly as he had written it… in his novel.
He had seen this design hundreds of times—in drafts, in notes, in the long nights he spent writing without rest.
His eyes widened.
His throat tightened.
"No… no way…"
---
Status Window
Name: Nyx Vairen
Age: 16
Rank: Awakened
Core Type: High Core
Mana Capacity: 210/210
Primary Attributes:
Strength: D-
Agility: D
Endurance: D
Vitality: D
Perception: C
Mana Control: C+
Secondary Attributes:
Magic Resistance: E+
Recovery Speed: D
Mental Fortitude: C-
Combat Arts:
Transcendent Blade Style (Sealed)
Traits:
Mana-Harmonized Body (Hidden)
Dual Vision (Inactive)
---
It was the same window.
The same system.
The same layout.
The same words he had written with his own hands months ago.
Air left his lungs slowly, as though the world itself had tilted off balance.
"This… this is impossible…"
His gaze drifted back to the name displayed at the top of the window:
Nyx Vairen.
A name he had never written for any character.
A name that had never existed in his story.