The night arrived quickly.
I barely had any sleep. The silk sheets started feeling uncomfortable now.
It was too soft, too clean. Every time I closed my eyes, the blue hologram became visible behind my lids:
[22 hours - 21 - 20.]
I kept picturing the training yard tomorrow, trying to mindmap the plan.
Just a single slip. Either the system unlocks, or my head decapitates from my body.
Easy.
Stupid.
Terrifying.
The body felt tired, but my mind didn't let me relax.
Morning came, and the sun's brightness passed through the screens, dyeing the room in dark green. The same butler from yesterday stood in front, bowing so low his nose almost touched the floor.
Just take it easy, man.
"Young master. Breakfast is ready. Your sister is already in the garden. She wishes to see you before training."
Ah, yes, I had a sister.
I threw on the clothes left on the chair, a simple white sleeve and pants, but the fabric felt expensive even to my untrained fingers. No armour. No weapons. Just me and a body that supposedly knew magic.
'Really hope the muscle memory kicks in.'
The garden was incredibly beautiful. Flowers I couldn't name, but they looked like a fusion of many plants from Earth, fountains that emitted a soft sound instead of splashing, and there was a figure sitting there.
A girl, maybe sixteen, with red hair tied back in a double braid, sitting on a handmade stone bench. It looked like she was practising small spells, lights flickering around her hands: butterflies made of aura, a tiny dragon that puffed harmless smoke. When she saw me, she froze. The illusions popped like soap bubbles.
"Brother?" Her voice cracked on the word.
I stopped a few steps away. No name again. Just "brother."
"Hey," I said, lifting a hand like an idiot.
"Uh... morning?"
Fuck, this was awkward.
She stood up fast, eyes shiny.
"You're really awake." She took one step, then another, then threw herself at me in a hug that knocked the breath out of me.
Smaller than Mother's embrace, but tighter and in the same way. Like if she let go, I would disappear.
'This guy was doted on heavily, huh?'
"I thought you were gone forever," she mumbled into my chest. "I kept making illusions of you, so I wouldn't forget your face."
I froze. What did you even say to that? "Guess the seer was right," I managed. "I'm... here."
It was probably hard seeing her brother's lifeless body.
She pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You look different. Not bad, different. Just... older? Or maybe I'm the one who grew up while you were sleeping."
"I mean, it was three years. People tend to age."
Awkward silence stretched.
"So... illusions?" I nodded at the spot where the dragon had been. "That's amazing."
Her face lit up. "Want to see?" Before I could answer, she flicked her fingers. A tiny version of me appeared between us, red hair, same face, waving awkwardly. It even copied my dumb half-wave from earlier.
I laughed despite myself. "That's creepy. And awesome."
She grinned, but it faded fast. "I practised every day. So when you woke up, I could show you I didn't forget." Her voice cracked again.
"I was scared you wouldn't remember me."
Shit. "I remember... enough," I lied.
"You're still the annoying little sister who steals my snacks, right?"
That's how these types of stories usually go.
She punched my arm, light, playful. "You're the one who always hid the good ones under your bed!"
We both laughed. It felt weirdly real. Like maybe this body had memories after all, buried somewhere.
"Come on," she said, grabbing my wrist. "Father's waiting in the yard. He's been pacing like a trapped tiger since dawn."
The training yard was behind the palace, a big ground that had weapon racks and targets scarred from years of use. Father stood in the centre, arms crossed, wearing plain black training gear. No fancy armour. Just presence. The air around him felt heavier, exhibiting an intimidating pressure.
He saw us and nodded once. "Good. You're here."
Sister let go of my wrist. "Be careful, okay?" She squeezed my hand once before stepping back.
I replied with a nod.
Father tossed me a wooden training sword.
"Only the basics first. Show me what you remember."
I caught it.
The grip felt familiar, even if my brain screamed you've never held one of these.
We started slow. He demonstrated the stance, and I copied. He swung from the right, and I blocked. Each clash sent shivers up my arms.
He wasn't even trying, but the force still pushed me back, rattling my teeth.
"Good," he grunted after ten minutes. "Your stance is sloppy, but the instinct is there."
Yes, thank god.
I nodded, breathing hard. Sweat already dripped into my eyes. "Now," he said. "Real sword. No holding back."
He drew a real blade, long, curved, with a sharp edge gleaming.
My stomach flipped. "Wait... live steel? Already?"
"You survived a coma. You can survive this." He stepped into the guard. "Come."
I hesitated.
Is this how a father treats a son who came back from the dead?
Then I remembered the timer: 18 hours left. This was it. My chance.
I charged, moving clumsily, trying to act desperate. He parried every move without a sweat, sidestepping lightly, and landed a hit on me. My body twisted, trying to "fall" into the blade.
But he was too fast. The control was extraordinary.
But my desire to live was even better. My foot slipped on loose dirt. I stumbled forward, right into the path of his upward swing.
However, his swing was precise. It missed my body and moved to the side.
"What are you doing, son?"
Shit, I got caught.
"Nothing, father. It's just I'm still getting used to moving my body after lying for so long."
His eyes scanned my body, then he put the sword back in its place.
"You're right. Maybe I'm pushing you too much right after recovering. We can continue tomorrow. I have business to attend to in another city.
Wait no. Then who will kill me?
Then a thought suddenly occurred. It's probably not a good idea to get stabbed by this body's own father. It might cause trauma to him, but also become a hindrance in the future.
Sister ran to my side after sheathing the sword, practically bouncing on her toes.
"Then can I take my brother to the festival today?" Her eyes were huge, pleading like a puppy who'd just learned the word "please."
Father was silent for a few minutes, arms still crossed, staring at the training yard as it owed him money. Then he exhaled through his nose.
"Very well. You can go. But take two guards with you."
"And be sure to come back before midnight," he added, looking straight at me. "So you can welcome your older brother when he returns."
Sister squealed, actually squealed, and grabbed my wrist.
"Thank you, Father!"
She bolted from the yard, dragging me behind her like I weighed nothing. I stumbled once, caught my balance, and let her pull me along. The guards fell in step behind us without a word.
By evening, the capital's streets had transformed.
Magic lamps hung from every stall and rooftop, glowing soft orange and red against the black sky. Music drifted from every corner, drums, flutes, and some string thing that sounded like it was crying happily.
People of all types of races were there, laughed, shouted, bargained, spilled drinks. The air smelled like freshly cooked meat, sweets, smoke, and something sharp like spices I'd never tasted before.
Sister dragged me from stall to stall like she'd been planning this for years.
"Try this!" She shoved a stick of piped fruit at me, bright red, sticky like a lollipop, enough to make my teeth hurt.
I took a bite anyway. It was good. Really good.
"See? Told you!" She grinned, mouth already smeared with sugar.
We played some stupid ring-toss game next. She won a tiny nine-tailed fox thing and immediately shoved it into my arms.
"For luck," she said. "Since you keep almost dying."
I snorted. "Thanks. Very reassuring."
She laughed and pulled me toward the dancers in the square. Couples spun in circles, skirts flaring, boots stomping. She grabbed my hands and tried to teach me the steps, horrible, clumsy steps, but I let her. For once, I didn't fight it.
The music got louder. The crowd pressed in. Lantern light painted her face gold. She looked happy. Really happy. Like the three years I'd been "asleep" hadn't broken her.
For a second, I forgot the timer. Forgot the scar. Forgot the blind man laughing somewhere far away.
Then-
We danced to the music, side by side. Suddenly,
She let go of my hand to clap along with the beat.
I turned to say something stupid like "Don't drop me again."
But she was gone.
Just… gone.
The space where she'd been standing was empty. The crowd kept moving, laughing, and dancing as if nothing had happened.
My stomach dropped.
"Sister?" My voice cracked.
I turned. Looked left. Right. Behind.
Nothing. No red braid. No green dress. No guards, wait, where were the guards?
The music pounded louder. Faces blurred past me.
Panic clawed up my throat.
She was just here.
I shoved through the crowd, calling her name, her actual name, the one they'd used once or twice.
But no name. Can't even scream it.
Fuck.
My eyes looked around me, searching for a single clue to pick anything out.
Nothing.
The toy fell from my grip. Someone stepped on it.
I stood in the middle of the square, heart slamming against my ribs.
She'd disappeared.
Just like that.