'I have no attachment to this life.'
It's what he told himself, but refrained from telling others.
'No…'
'It's what I know. I truly feel nothing, even as I'm dying at twenty.'
An unknown disease.
His name was Cyrus, and oftentimes in this life...
He would have some problems with his mental health. It wasn't because he had bad parents or he lacked human connection, or even because of his currently deteriorating health.
It was because of his feelings. He felt so wrong… like he was different from others.
He had good times and enjoyments in life, but they never felt like they truly mattered to him. He had love for people, but it always felt like it was secondary, like he was looking through someone else's eyes.
-sigh
'I wonder what happens when you die'
Cyrus wasn't particularly scared, not more than natural at least. He was genuinely curious, as he wasn't religious, and he didn't know what to believe came after death.
As Cyrus was engrossed in thought, a lithe figure opened the door to his hospital room.
With it, a soft voice called out to him.
"Hey, Cyrus, are you feeling any better?"
Opening his eyes, a small figure came into view, a short girl. Her name was Sandy, she was someone whom Cyrus dared to call his best friend…
"Yeah, I feel a lot better."
This was a lie; despite his demeanour, anyone who knew Cyrus well enough could tell that he was in pain.
"Cmon, Cyrus, you don't have to lie..."
She's one of the only people whom Cyrus had wholeheartedly opened up to.
"Seems like nothing gets past you, huh?"
She frowned, and a look of worry flashed across her face. Then locked eyes with Cyrus, staring him down intently, as if she was trying to peer into his mind.
Before he got too uncomfortable, she sighed, pulled out a paperboard cup and held it out, offering it to Cyrus.
'Probably a caramel latte, my favourite...'
In this world, Cyrus valued little and a lot at the same time. Coffee was one of the few things he found really useful; as he spent a lot of his time studying, he had planned to go to university…
"Very funny... Anyway, how are you really feeling? Your father is worried"
Sandy put one hand on her hip, her tone was stone cold with no hint of amusement, Cyrus knew that he shouldn't go any further and decided to answer honestly.
"Well, it changes a lot. Sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts and zone out, other times it feels like I'm being eaten from the inside out."
Cyrus looked down at his pale, lifeless hands…
'My insides are utter chaos'
"Cyrus... The doctors, they said..."
Unable to look her in the eye, Cyrus cut her off before she could finish
"I know. "
'One of these days, very soon is going to be my last..'
Silence overtook the room for a short while.
"Hey, Cyrus?"
Looking down at the floor, Sandy called my name
"What's up?"
"I-I, well, we have known each other for a long time, and I understood pretty early on how you feel about everything."
'Where is this going..?'
"And, because of that, I had decided to keep my feelings secret..."
'No...'
"But I really couldn't live knowing I had never told you, well, haha, knowing you, you've probably known for a while, but I really like you c-cyrus..."
-Splat
-Splat
The sound of tears hitting the floor forced Cyrus to look at her. She hid her face well, wiping as subtly as possible.
She was the girl whom Cyrus had known for most of his life, thanks to their parents being friends. Sandy was always full of ideas, dragging Cyrus along, even when it was clear he didn't want to go.It was thanks to her that Cyrus wasn't completely blind to what a normal life was.
'What do I say..?'
He wasn't equipped with adequate experience for this situation; he couldn't lie to her, and at the same time, he didn't need to tell her the truth…She herself already knew. Before he could come up with an answer, Sandy started to get nervous.
"W-well, I'm going to go now, I have so much to do today, don't forget your dad is coming in the afternoon, try to stay awake this time."
"Wait, Sandy!"
His usual monotone voice betrayed urgency.
She looked at him with reddened eyes, her auburn hair and her forest green eyes, glistening from the tears… suddenly grew far more colourful.
"T-Thank you... I mean, thank you for liking me... someone as dull as me, I can't reciprocate those feelings right now... but thank you."
She smiled, it was a happy smile, a smile so delighted that Cyrus had never thought he would see it on her face since he was diagnosed.
"It's nothing really."
Departing with those words, she left Cyrus feeling weird, like he had never felt before.
He was glad… That his stain on this world wouldn't just leave sadness and disappointment to those who stuck by him.
'I need to do the same for my dad.'
After all, his dad had stuck with him ever since his mother died. He was the man Cyrus most respected.
Groaning, Cyrus turned to his side so he could get a view of the outside world from the hospital bed.
The birds, the sky, the children playing in the nearby playground.
It all stared back at him in colours he knew he wouldn't see again. It shocked him more to realise that he didn't value any of it.
'I know my father would-'
'He would say something like…'
His mind started to drift.
'Like…'
His breathing slowed. And his heartbeat faded.
And then… Nothing.
Cyrus's eyes shot open as he clutched his heart, trying to gulp in air, like a fish out of water.
'What would he…!'
His heartbeat thrashed in his chest as darkness overtook what little vision he had left. His limbs went limp, his body heavy, yet his mind clung to the last thread of awareness.
He fought against it with all his might.
He still had so much to say, so many things he wanted to learn, to understand…
Nevertheless…
That's where the life of Cyrus ended.
…
…
—breathe.
A sharp gasp tore itself from his throat.
Cyrus opened his eyes to a ceiling he had never seen before.
wooden beams, the complete opposite of sterile hospital tiles.
Warm sunlight spilt through a window, with no sign of fluorescent bulbs, a weight he didn't recognise pressed against his chest, a body both familiar and foreign.
The smell of lavender, the kind you'd find in an old grandmother's house, rushed into his lungs.
heart still pounding from the hopeless feeling of death.
'Death… What is it?'
He was reminded of a common thought of his. Instinctively, he felt a gap in his memories, between the time he died and opened my eyes.
'What's missing…?'
A sudden, piercing sensation shot through his skull, forcing Cyrus to clutch his head and writhe in pain. Incomprehensible whispers flooded his mind.
It felt like an eternity of suffering and murmuring, but soon it died down. A cold sweat covered his body as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He sat straight, trying to push it aside and focus on more important questions. He looked around, forcing himself to observe the surroundings for answers.
'Why was I alive?'
'Why did I feel so healthy?'
'Where the hell was I?'
One of those questions was quickly answered. He was clearly in someone's bedroom, and they seemed quite wealthy.
The room was neat, and not a single speck of dust seemed out of place. The furniture felt oddly old-fashioned, like something from a 1800s noble's estate.
'Surely not…'
He ran his hands across this mysterious body. His skin felt firm, rejuvenated, even… youthful.
'It can't be.'
Pushing himself off the bed, he raced toward the full-body mirror tucked into the corner.
'It's…me?'
However
The colours around him felt sharper. Too sharp. His dark brown hair looked darker and brighter at the same time, depending on how the light hit it.
He leaned closer and stared into his eyes.
Green stirred at the centre of the iris, ringed by a cool blue at the edges, all enclosed by a dark limbal ring.
'Central heterochromia.'
Since he was born, his eyes had always been strange, but now the colours looked deeper-almost vivid.
But…
'I'm younger. Healthier and clearly trained.'
He ran a hand over his arm, tracing the lines of muscle, and drew in a steady breath.
'Is this some kind of lucid dream?'
"Can't be."
-SLAM!
Cyrus jolted upright and snapped his head to the left as a door burst open.
"Wake up, Cyrus, you-"
The voice cut off as they turned toward the empty bed, then shifted their gaze to Cyrus.
'They are clearly surprised I wasn't still asleep.'
Tensing a little, Cyrus frowned.
'Who the hell is this guy? How does he know my name?'
They paused, clearly thrown off by the way Cyrus stared at them.
'He's maybe six-four, lean, with features similar to mine, except his eyes were plain brown.'
"…What in the world? Anyway, Father wants you in the kitchen. Now."
The moment Cyrus tried to place who he was, something hit him. A sharp, splitting migraine tore through his skull. Pain so violent that Cyrus thought his head had been cracked open.
He clutched the side of his face, groaning. Soon, just as suddenly as it came, the horrible pain vanished. Breathing heavily, Cyrus looked back at the man in front of him.
"I know you…"
He raised a brow.
"Obviously? Hurry up and get dressed. As Father says, Hawthornes do not stagnate."
He chuckled at his own imitation and left, closing the door behind him.
'What an idiot…'
'His name was Cian Hawthorne, and he was my elder brother. The issue was, I didn't have a brother, and my family name was never Hawthorne.'
Cyrus instantly came to an obvious conclusion
'These memories…They aren't mine.'
Cyrus rubbed his eyes in fatigue
"What the hell is happening?"
Cyrus quickly decided that it was best for him to calm down; unnecessary stress or panic wouldn't help in any situation. There was so much and yet so little to piece together; luckily, Cyrus liked puzzles and such.
'There's no point in thinking of it as a dream.'
Yeah, it would be redundant and could cloud his reasoning. Looking around the room, several things caught his attention.
There was a gold-plated wardrobe… a smooth wooden desk with seemingly nothing on it… and lastly, a shelf full of books.
Putting aside the clear order to get dressed from his father and older brother, Cyrus strolled over to the bookshelf.
Scanning across the spines, a few titles caught his attention:
'Innate Abilities'
'The System'
'Insight and Interpretation'
Cyrus grabbed the first book and opened it, noting to himself that it seemed to have been read quite a bit. The book was in bad shape; some edges were torn, most of the book was bent out of shape, and some pages seemed to have dimmed.
The moment he looked inside, a piercing migraine hit his head once more. Information from the book flooded into his mind, memories of reading it that were not his own.
'So whenever I observe something, Cyrus Hawthorne has information on… I remember it.'
It raised too many questions, but Cyrus knew he didn't have time to waste and quickly grabbed the next book.
'The System'
Governs growth and progression for everyone, turning them into hunters. increasing mana pool, physical capabilities, and control potential.
Progression is automatic, but mastery depends on Insight. Without [Insight], a person will fall behind despite ranking up.
'I'm more confused now that I have the information.'
'How do I summon this thing anyway? Should I just call upon it? It wouldn't hurt to try. '
'System.'
Much to Cyrus' surprise, a blue rectangular window, like a hologram, appeared before him. On it was all of his personal information, like his name and age. But more surprisingly, things like mana, strength, speed and durability were all present.
'My mana is a bit higher compared to my other stats, but I seemed pretty weak.'
…unranked, or so it said.
'Not even a Hunter yet…'
'Well, of course, you must slay your first beasts to be a hunter'
But even so, Cyrus couldn't believe it… There were monsters capable of destroying cities, and a game-like system that governed human growth?
'That must mean…'
He quickly grabbed the Innate Abilities book.
The familiar pain struck him, but this time he didn't reach for his head. Too focused, he absorbed the information once more.
Each person possesses an Innate Power, defining their natural affinity. Powers may be hereditary, innate, or awakened. Strength and evolution of these powers depend on Insight and individual understanding.
His immediate thought was:
'How do I get my innate ability?'
If he was stuck in this world, cyrus knew that, unlike his old one, power was real, not man-made.
Before Cyrus could pick up the book on Insight and Interpretation, a shout echoed from below.
"Cyrus! Hurry up, I'm not in the mood to wait for you today!"
Although he knew he could quickly absorb it, he still felt a tinge of pain in his temples, and his reasoning was deteriorating; it seemed as though he was getting backlash.
Sighing and placing the books back, he quickly scanned the desk, hoping for something like a diary.
'Sadly, it looks like the other Cyrus was much like me.'
…
After getting dressed, Cyrus quickened his pace while scanning the house.
'Six rooms.'
One was likely a bathing room.
'Based on the structure of the house, the room to my right is too small to be a bedroom.'
So it's probably a closet.
'That left three rooms, excluding mine. One for my older brother… one for my parents…Maybe I have another sibling? Or maybe it's something else.'
Looking around, the house was truly old-fashioned but large.
Mostly brown and red, filled with decorations, vases, family photos, and random art pieces.
Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Cryus began to follow the sound of voices.
'The dining room.'
It was large, with a table unnecessarily long considering there were only four people sitting at it. As he sat down, knowledge suddenly flooded his mind.
'The man seated in the middle is my father.'
A stern man with grey hair and black eyes. An imposing appearance. He was high-rank…
A clear pressure completely foreign to Cyrus
weighed down on his body, making him practically slam into the chair instead of sitting normally.
'Real power…'
Trying to ignore it, he looked left.
A dazzling woman.
'Literally dazzling'
She was wearing something that looked like glitter covering her entire outfit. She had light brown hair and black eyes.
Cyrus knew at a glance that the woman was his mother. To the right sat the figure who had barged open his door.
'This is my brother, but what's he doing?'
He held a lighter in one hand and brought it closer to a lemon cake. Atop the cake sat two candles, one shaped as the number one and the other six.
'Ughh..'
Cyrus stifled a groan. The pain this time around was mild. He assumed it was because the information being received was nothing special.
'Right. Today is my birthday.'
"Cyrus!"
Cyrus looked at his mother and kept his expression bland yet expectant.
"Happy birthday!"
Her mouth wore a warm smile.
For the first time in a very long time, Cyrus felt the love of a mother, not something he particularly sought, but something he had never expected to feel again.
Before he could respond, his father stood up.
"Happy birthday, son."