Knock. Knock.
The sound pulled Luke out of sleep.
He lay still for a moment, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling as the haze slowly lifted. His first thought wasn't the noise—it was doubt. A quiet, lingering fear that everything from last night had been nothing more than a dream.
The bead. The panel. The skill.
Luke focused.
The simple panel appeared instantly, calm and unchanged.
"…Not a dream."
A soft sigh escaped him, light with relief.
"Luke, wake up. Breakfast is almost ready."
His mother's voice came from the other side of the door. Evelyn sounded energetic, already moving, already busy.
"Give me a minute, Mom," Luke called out as he pushed himself up.
He opened the door. Evelyn stood there, as composed and beautiful as always. Even knowing she was his mother, Luke still felt a flicker of awe every time he saw her. Time truly seemed to avoid her.
"What are you staring at?" she said lightly. "Go freshen up and come down."
Before he could respond, she had already turned and walked toward Rory's room.
"I'll wake Rory," Luke said with a small smile. "You take a rest."
Evelyn paused, then smiled back. "Thank you, darling. Come quickly, or breakfast won't be fresh."
She headed toward the kitchen with quick steps, as if something there demanded her immediate attention.
Luke watched her go, then stood quietly in the hallway.
Six days.
Only six days in this world, yet he already had a morning routine. The feeling was strange—comforting, but not entirely his. It took effort to fully sink into this life, to let it feel natural.
He didn't know whether to feel happy for himself… or sad for the original owner of this body.
That thought led him, inevitably, to the drink.
The original Luke hadn't been lucky. A quiet personality meant few friends. One of those friends had given him an unlabeled drink, claiming it was an awakening potion mentioned in Nevarth's legends—something capable of unlocking human powers. HE Thought it was one of his pranks.
He had drunk it casually, without suspicion.
Nothing happened.
At least, not immediately.
Only after returning home that night did everything end—and begin.
Luke's mind flicked back to the panel's mention of awakening levels. Level five. Was that because of the potion? Or because of his transmigration?
He shook his head.
Not now.
He walked to the opposite door and knocked lightly.
"Hey, Rory. Wake up. It's almost eight-thirty. Breakfast time."
No response.
He knocked again, harder this time. From inside came a muffled sound, then footsteps.
The door swung open.
Messy shoulder-length hair. Narrow red eyes filled with irritation. She looked like an angry white cat that had been dragged out of sleep.
Luke felt a deep, irrational satisfaction.
So this is why brother–sister dynamics are always popular in novels.
This was pure joy.
"You'd better have a reason for waking me," Rory growled, teeth clenched as she stared at his smug face. "Otherwise, you won't survive the consequences."
"Heh," Luke laughed softly. "Mom told me to wake you for breakfast. What do you think the time is? Still sleeping like a fat pig?"
He forgot—briefly—that he had also been asleep moments earlier.
That was enough.
"WHO are you calling a pig?! You're the pig! Big pig! Fat pig!"
Rory launched herself at him mid-shout.
Luke dodged instinctively, laughing as he retreated down the hall. "Freshen up!" he called, already moving toward his own room.
An hour later, Luke stood outside the airport wearing a white T-shirt and black pants. His sky-blue eyes reflected the light as he stared at his phone—but he wasn't really scrolling. He was checking the panel.
He had dropped Rory off at school and come here right after.
World Weekly still needed time. That made him restless. He wanted answers—about Nevarth, about legends, about awakening potions, about why stories that should have been myths were suddenly spoken of more and more frequently in recent years.
It felt like something ancient was stirring.
"Luke, what are you thinking about so deeply?"
The voice came from beside him. A man opened the back seat of a car and placed luggage inside.
A sudden hand on Luke's shoulder made him flinch.
"Sorry, Dad," Luke said quickly, turning with a light chuckle. "Just thinking about work. It's getting harder than passing exams."
His father looked at him calmly. A middle-aged man with black hair, red eyes, and a fit build—not bulky, but solid. There was something slightly off about him too, something Luke couldn't quite place yet. That could wait. Either he would ask his parents… or World Weekly would tell him.
"Well, take your time," his father said as he gestured for Luke to get in. "Your mom and I aren't rushing you. Just move at your own pace."
They drove home, talking about trivial things—daily matters, small observations. Luke responded naturally, comfortably. Still, deep down, he knew the truth.
He wasn't truly this world's Luke.
They reached home.
After lunch, Luke returned to his room. The moment his back touched the bed, his thoughts drifted again.
His father—a police officer. His mother—Evelyn, a businesswoman, the head of her own company. His sister—a high school student, one step away from university.
A successful family, by Sunridge's standards.
Sunridge—the continent's name.
The geography of this world was complicated, almost absurd. Beyond Sunridge and its surrounding seas, everything else was covered in thick fog. Endless fog. Even with advanced technology and satellites, humanity couldn't see beyond it.
There were countless theories. None proven.
Luke's thoughts wandered until they returned, inevitably, to the panel.
He opened it again.
The World Weekly request was still processing—it had been entered earlier, at the airport. The central orb was now nearly half-filled, meaning another draw would be available at midnight.
Origin Points had increased.
From 99 to 109.
An increase of ten points per day.
He noted it quietly. Other sources of income would have to wait—guild functions weren't active yet.
Everything else remained unchanged. Simple. Silent. Patient.
Luke closed his eyes.
This life… It was only just beginning. OF AN LEGEND.