Seojin fell down on the pedestrian crossing by a sudden collision, whether he bumped into someone or been bumped into, he couldn't tell.
"O-ow! Shithead, watch where you are… g-going—?"
"Sorry, sorry! I wasn't looking my way," said by 'someone' as a hand appeared in his line of sight, offering him a hand to get up. "Are you alright?"
"Tch, walk with your eyes open next time, damn it."
He took the hand, feeling strangely disoriented as he did— a feeling that he had experienced this exact situation before, a deja vu.
'H-huh…?! I am back… on Earth?'
His throbbed as the scene around him re-focused. From the convenience store behind him, crosswalk, and his phone ahead right beside a hydrant, he finally realized the situation.
'No way, no damn way, you've got to be kidding me! Did I really die using that skill…?'
All of a sudden, his pupils dilated as he looked at the one who gave him a hand.
"Ah!"
Wham!
He immediately shoved the hand, backed a few steps away, and brandished a fist at the person before him, gesturing to either get lost or not to take a step forward.
Thing is, to label it as 'person' seemed atypical. It was a cosmic-like entity (stars and galaxies glinting in its body) with a figure of a man— skin way too pale and silky smooth. In the place of its eyes were a pair of vacant white voids, bearing no pupils.
"W-who the hell are you?"
"Ah-ah," said the figure, idly scratching the back of its head. "What a hurtful greeting. Is that how you treat an old friend?"
Step.
The figure stepped forward, and Seven replied with a slight movement of his fist, marking his territory.
"Don't move!"
"Strange. Truly, truly strange," the figure tilted its head far too off the angle, streetlights reflected on its pupil-less eyes. "I was under the impression that you, above all others, would be happy to see me."
"Answer my question, you damn fudger."
However, the figure only smiled in response, its lips touching both ends of the solar system, whispering two words with no sound— though Seojin could make out what those were from the movement of its lips.
That is…
"Seven. Hart."
Only then he had finally understood the situation; whoever this figure was, it was the one responsible for his transmigration.
"You bastard!"
A complete opposite of his warning earlier, Seojin rushed forward and grabbed the figure's collar.
"M-m-my… my l-lord," a voice echoed, "p-please, you're h-hurting me…"
'Huh…? Isn't that Iria's voice…?'
In an instant, Seojin— no, Seven rather, found himself back in his expensive looking room, but his hands were grabbing Iria's clothes.
"Ah. I…"
He immediately removed his grip.
"...I had a bad dream. S-sorry."
"I figured as much, my lord," Iria smoothed out the rustled fabric of her collar. "You were terribly trembling and groaning in your sleep, my lord, and screaming words I couldn't understand."
"Did I…?"
Looking down, his hands were still slightly trembling, covered with bandages, no nevermind, not just his hands but his whole body, looking like a mummy.
"I apologize for not having woken you up."
"It's fine, it's fine."
He smiled, glancing at the dark night through the window, having just thought of a great plan! If Iria was here, that means she's currently healing his frail body.
In that case, it was already past midnight, marking the 7th day of Nocten, the day of his death.
"But if you're really sorry, why don't you stay and spend the night beside me? I'm afraid I might experience that same horrifying dream again."
Seriously, Seven had another reason: Iria is an ascendant mage (healer), meaning she had formed a star on her heart, and that is the reason why he needs her beside him— her ability, even if she only has a star, her senses far surpass normal humans.
Meaning, there's a big possibility that she'd be able to detect the assassin beforehand.
But, little did he expect…
"You're asking for one thing I cannot give, my lord," Iria's hands glowed, continuing the healing she was interrupted earlier. "I am but an attendant. Sleeping under the same silk of the lord is an act of transgression. It would stain the—"
"Aight, aight, I get it. I thought the worst you could say was a no…"
"...?"
Seven groaned, feeling the calming sensation of the healing spell, like he was an ice melting. Again, this healing session started ever since the paragon healer prescribed her to do so.
You see, ten years ago, a paragon healer (3 stars) named Josef had been invited to the ascendance lands by the archduke, a check-up for the youngest's condition; his older siblings were also checked up about the same age.
After conducting his own unorthodox methods, Josef said that the youngest's biological development lagged behind; his organs, bones, and tissues were all immature for his age.
To put it simply, they had failed to grow alongside his body.
In that case, Iria's midnight healing session meant to gradually improve the lord's underdeveloped systems, slowly guiding them toward proper growth.
But it was already ten years since then, and there only seemed to be a small— if there is, then how little— effect.
"Iria, how did you discover I had been cursed? You even went as far as associating the name of Envy into it."
He had definitely heard Iria a few moments after he lost consciousness, for some reason, although that technically should be impossible since he was unconscious.
Iria remained composed, continued her healing.
"Your heart... it falls into such distress whenever I am near to heal you, my lord. It has been a year and half since I have felt it, and it seems to grow stronger with each passing day."
"..."
"Please, forgive me. I have never intended to hide it from you, my lord. I am just afraid knowing that might be a shock for you."
If it was the 'real' Seven Hart, him knowing a curse that prevents walking the path of the sword would indeed cause a trauma, losing his will from attempting to form a Zi ring, and perhaps end his own life.
Iria didn't want that to happen, so she kept it a secret from everyone— even Seven himself.
"Nevermind that. How is it that you detected the curse when the paragon healer could not?"
Truly, the paragon healer failed to see the curse a decade ago, despite the fact that the curse had been with him ever since his infancy days.
"That, I cannot say for certain, my lord. It may be that the curse had not yet taken deep enough root to be felt when sir Josef had performed his check-up."
"Oh."
That made sense, kind of.
He didn't bother to question Iria's assumption, as he himself was busy fighting off the drowsiness every now and then, a side effect of healing.
Blinking repeatedly, he shifted his focus back to the details of the fight (bout).
Again, it was a fun experience! He had poured every ounce of himself into the match, be it what he learned during those few days of training the basic foundations or what he had read in novels and seen in games… though he lost.
That much was expected; Lythian had way more experience and training than him after all. But that defeat had a silver lining as he had gained something better: information!
'An omniscient perspective… heh! The skill isn't as bad as I thought.'
The system had finally shown the description of the skill, in which it had stubbornly refused back then.
'Skill.'
'Activate skill.'
'Activate self-proclaimed genius!'
"..."
Though he still had no idea how to activate it.
Putting that aside, there was also the old man, Aizen, the commander. He had clearly seen the old man's step onto the scene, a few seconds before Iria's voice.
Suspicious.
There was also Edward. If not for Lythian's sudden release of zi, he was certain Edward would have killed him without hesitation at that moment!
And, someone is still watching him!
Even now, he could feel an unmistakable gaze so blatant that he could feel it crawling across his skin.
'Think, think carefully! Don't jump early into conclusions. Who could be my killer among them?'
He closed his eyes to ravage his mind for every possibility he could think of: the knights, especially Edward and Aizen; the village elders he had encountered. Each face and each interaction replayed in his mind, but no matter how he arranged the pieces, they refused to align.
Until, one person somehow fits the missing piece.
'That old man…'
Gut feeling.
His intuition was correct once, about the old man wasn't just a regular farmer, and somehow that same feeling is telling him to suspect Aizen.
But, more than anything else…
'No, stay awake! I can't let this spell pull me under. Jinjja jorayo, stay awake…!'
The healing was working too well, lulling his body into rest while dulling his mind. And today, of all days, was the worst possible time to let his guard down.
'Iria… ppalli, ppalli… or stop already…'
As if answering his unspoken wish, the glow from Iria's palms faded as she gently pulled the blanket over him, mistaking the trembling of his body for a shiver from the cold.
"I shall take my leave, my lord," Iria murmured, her voice carrying a silken. "You heard me, did you not? Your humble attendant is departing for the night."
Her tone was sarcastic like the sort of mockery one might use with a court jester, as if she and the lord are playing a game of pretend.
"My, how thoughtless of me," Iria covered her lips in a playful manner. "Of course my lord hears nothing. He falls asleep faster than a sloth."
'I think I am in trouble. She knows, she definitely knows!'
"Then, I wish you a good night, my lord," Iria whispered, before her lips gave a scandalous kiss to his cheek.
"...?!"
He nearly broke his pose, his face blushing. But Iria only giggled before she opened the door.
Creak!
The door closed shut.
'Finally, she's—!!'
Or so he thought. When he dared to open his eyes, Iria's face was right an inch away from his. Thankfully, his eyelids were still half-opened, just enough to sell the illusion of a man lost in dreams.
Iria looked at him for a long moment and sighed, leaving the room for good.
Step, step. Creak!
Only when the silence truly settled did he allow himself to breathe, even so, he remained perfectly still, Iria might still be standing in the corner like what mothers do to their ipad children.
'Better safe than sorry.'
To maintain control, he focused on a single thought and one absurd enough to override the drowsiness completely:
'Holy fudge… they really are good dancers.'
That is, his seven fathers (six of them his stepfathers) all dressed in maid outfits while dancing the 'chika dance' in perfect synchronization.