Early the next morning.
Felix crawled out of bed and glanced outside. The courtyard was lush with life, draped in greenery that shimmered with morning dew.
He took a deep breath of fresh air. He liked this kind of life—idyllic, quiet, simple. Farming, tending plants, raising a few animals in the yard. A peaceful rhythm. Of course, the "animals" he kept were anything but ordinary.
Even if outsiders entered the courtyard, they wouldn't be able to see the miniature world hidden within—unless Felix allowed it. The Mother Hive excelled at mental interference, capable of subtly manipulating human perception. Without that ability, controlling so many Tyranis would have been a logistical nightmare.
He showered, then stood before the mirror, studying his reflection.
He looked… better.
Healthier. Human again.
The hair he'd lost to chemotherapy had finally begun to grow back. His complexion had improved, the hollowness in his face replaced by lean muscle. Reflected in the mirror was a young man with sharp features and a well-proportioned, athletic build. He was still a little pale—like a vampire freshly risen—but compared to before?
It was night and day.
"I've finally started recovering from chemo," he murmured. "Been off it for more than two weeks now… my body's almost back to normal. Even my face looks better."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
"This must be the energy feedback… from the Tyranis that died."
Felix closed his eyes and spread his senses.
Whenever a Tyranis died, its life force and soul energy flowed back into him. The stronger the organism, the richer the return. The recent mass extinctions—the first during the Dark Age, the second in the Radiant Age—had fed him handsomely.
Though primitive, the creatures had died in enormous numbers. What they lacked in quality, they made up for in sheer quantity. Only last night had he finished absorbing the last traces of their residual energy.
He opened his eyes and broke into a grin.
"But the most important thing is—my hair's back!"
It was ridiculous. Completely trivial.
Yet Felix laughed like a child.
In a good mood, he hopped on his bicycle and rode out. He ate breakfast on the far side of town, then wandered leisurely along a dirt path through the village. Paddy fields stretched out on both sides, dragonflies buzzing above the water. The air smelled of damp earth and fresh cow dung—oddly comforting.
Then a voice called out.
"Hey! Aren't you Felix?"
He turned to see a round-faced elderly woman carrying a basket of vegetables, squinting at him.
"I didn't believe it when little Ellie said you were back!"
Felix nodded politely. "Yeah. I came back recently."
"I heard you've got cancer?" she asked bluntly, making no effort to lower her voice.
"…That's right," he replied calmly.
The woman clicked her tongue. "Aiyah, that's terrible! The Felix family only has you left. What'll happen if you don't recover? You know… my daughter's actually a good girl. Why don't you—"
Felix froze.
…Wait.
You hear I'm terminally ill, and your first thought is to marry me off?
To preserve the bloodline?
He stared at her, stunned.
You think I've got money, don't you? Planning to inherit it after I die? How thoughtful. Truly moving.
Just as he was about to decline, another voice cut in sharply.
"Ignore her!"
Felix turned.
Ellie came hurrying over, followed by a small group of middle-aged women.
"I knew it! You're trying to marry off your daughter again, aren't you?" Ellie pointed accusingly at the old woman. "That girl's got a temper like a volcano! Didn't she beat her husband so badly he ran away and never came back? And now you want Felix to take his place? Are you insane?!"
"You little brat!" the woman—now nicknamed Pig Lady—shrieked, but quickly lost momentum as the surrounding aunties crossed their arms and glared.
She snorted and retreated, face dark.
"Felix, she's the only bad apple in the village," Ellie said firmly. Then she paused.
Her eyes widened.
"Wait—what the hell?!"
She rushed closer, staring at him. "You weren't like this a few days ago! You were balding—really balding! And you were hunched over like some dying old immortal!"
Felix scratched his cheek, putting on an innocent expression.
Ellie's mother, Aunt Li, immediately elbowed her. "Nonsense! Felix has always looked like this. Right?"
She turned to Felix with a bright smile. "My, you've grown even more handsome. Much better than before! Come, come—sit at my place for a while."
"Yes, let's go to Aunt Li's house!" the other women echoed enthusiastically, forming an impromptu escort.
"No, I'm serious! He was bald just the other day! Like a monk!" Ellie protested, stomping her foot.
"My girl, how can you talk about your big brother Felix like that? Bald? Ridiculous!" Aunt Li scolded.
Felix merely raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly.
Exactly. Hair restored. Dignity reclaimed.
A man's hair, after all, was no trivial matter.
Unable to refuse their kindness, he followed them to Aunt Li's home—a weathered old siheyuan with a shaded courtyard. The aunties fussed over him warmly, their concern genuine as they asked about his illness. They scolded him affectionately for neglecting himself after his parents' passing.
The villagers were simple, sincere, and warm.
It left Felix feeling strangely at peace.
It had been so long since he'd returned. Sitting there, surrounded by people who had watched him grow up, he felt as though he'd stepped into another life—one filled with old memories and quiet comfort.
Before he left, they stuffed his arms with fruits, vegetables, and home-cooked food.
"Stay here and rest, child. Don't overwork yourself. You'll recover—we know it!"
"I will," Felix replied with a smile.
Not far away, Ellie lounged on a wooden chair, muttering to herself.
"This is ridiculous… There's no way that's the same person. His hair's back, his posture's straight… He looks like some shoujo manga protagonist now. No way. That has to be a body double. Something's wrong."
Felix pretended not to hear, walking away with an air of serenity.
Inside, he was grinning like an idiot.
Their warmth had touched him more deeply than he expected. In that moment, he made a quiet decision.
He would stay.
Forget the city. Forget the noise.
This quiet village—this simple life—was enough.
When he returned home, he headed straight for the sandbox.
Time flowed differently inside the miniature world. Even with evolution slowed, one day outside equaled a hundred years within—fifty years of daylight, fifty of night.
"I've been out most of the day… that's about eighty years gone by in the sandbox," Felix muttered, grabbing his binoculars and climbing onto the chair near the door.
He avoided entering the world unless necessary. Every step he took disrupted the fragile balance of its ecosystem.
He peered through the lenses.
Then froze.
In just eighty years, the Bugapes had made astonishing progress. Tribal structures had formed. Group living. The early sparks of language… even the beginnings of culture.
But they were also standing at the edge of a precipice.
They've grown.
…But they're about to fall.