Chapter 27: Back Home Part 2
The sound of a car horn honks from outside, signaling that Mom's ride to the hospital has arrived. She checks her watch and sighs. "I've got to go, but I'll be thinking of you all day. We'll celebrate your advancement tonight, okay?"
"Okay, Mom," I say, standing up to give her a hug. "Thanks for the breakfast."
"You're welcome, sweetie," she replies, hugging me tightly. "I'm so proud of you."
She waves goodbye to both of us and heads out the door, leaving Dad and me to finish our breakfast in companionable silence. After a few bites of pancakes and a contemplative sip of orange juice, Dad clears his throat in a way that signals he's about to say something serious.
"Rio, I know PIUT can be a battlefield because of the competition," he begins, his tone grave. "But hey, not everyone even gets a shot at passing that first hurdle. You've already made it past the entrance, which puts you in the top 3% of—"
I nodded, appreciating Dad's attempt to reassure me, but my mind was still reeling from the strange visions and conflicting memories. "Thanks, Dad," I said, trying to focus on his words. "I know it's a big deal. It's just... a lot to take in."
Dad set down his coffee mug and leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. "Rio," he said gently, calling out my name, "is something else bothering you? You seem... distant this morning."
I hesitated, unsure how to explain the surreal experience I'd just had. But looking at Dad's concerned face, I decided to open up a little. "I... I'm having trouble trusting my own memories right now," I admitted. "It's like there are two different versions of my life competing in my head."
Dad's brow furrowed, but his voice remained calm. "That sounds pretty intense. Can you tell me more about what you're experiencing?"
Taking a deep breath, I tried to articulate the confusion swirling in my mind. "I remember applying to PIUT, studying for the exams, all of that. But then I also have these... flashes. Images of places I've never been, but that feel familiar somehow. And there's this name - Edea - that keeps popping into my thoughts. I don't know what it means, but it feels important."
Dad listened intently, nodding slowly. "That does sound disorienting," he said after a moment. "You know, the mind can do strange things under stress. And you've been under a lot of pressure lately with this application process."
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "But Rio, no matter what's going on in your head right now, remember this: you are my child. I've watched you grow, learn, and become the remarkable person you are today. Those memories? Those are real. Our family, our love for you - that's your anchor."
His words washed over me, providing a comforting sense of stability amidst my inner turmoil. "Thanks, Dad," I said, feeling some of the tension leave my body. "That... that really helps."
Dad smiled warmly. "I'm glad. And listen, whatever happens with PIUT, whatever you discover about yourself in the process, we're here for you. Your mom and I will support you every step of the way."
Just then, the clock on the wall chimed, reminding Dad of his own schedule. He sighed, glancing at his watch. "I've got to head to the office," he said, standing up. "But why don't we plan something special for this weekend? A hike, maybe? It might help clear your head before the interview prep starts in earnest."
I nodded, liking the idea. "That sounds great, Dad."
As he gathered his things, Dad paused by my chair and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, Rio," he said softly. "Not just for PIUT, but for who you are. Remember that, okay?"
"I will," I promised, hugging him back.
With a reassuring smile, he heads out the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the aftermath of breakfast. As I begin clearing the dishes, I can't help but think about the interview. PIUT—the prestigious Institute of Unrealistic Tests, as some jokingly call it—was infamous for its rigorous selection process. The competition was cutthroat, but Dad's pep talk had planted a seed of confidence in me.
I finish cleaning up and check the time. It's still early, but my nerves are starting to bubble up like the last dregs of pancake batter in the sink. I decide a distraction is in order, so I grab my phone and start scrolling through my playlist, hoping to find the perfect mix of motivation and chill vibes.
After a few minutes of debate between a pump-up anthem and a calming acoustic melody, I settled on a compromise and hit play. The music fills the kitchen, and I find myself swaying along as I mentally rehearse potential interview questions and review my notes for the umpteenth time.
Just as I'm getting into a groove, my phone buzzes with a text message. I glance down and see it's from Mom.
Mom: How's my superstar doing? Don't forget to breathe! You've got this. 😊
I can't help but smile at her message. Mom always had a knack for sending the right words at the right time. I quickly type back a thumbs-up emoji and a heart then went back to my reviewing.
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After finishing my review and feeling a bit more settled, I decided to unwind with some gaming. I booted up my computer and launched my game, hoping to blow off some steam before diving back into interview prep.
As the game loaded, I cracked my knuckles and put on my headset. "Time to show these noobs how it's done," I muttered to myself, a grin spreading across my face.
The match started, and at first, everything was going smoothly. I was playing my main champion, and racking up kills left and right. Our team was in the lead, and I was feeling invincible. But then, things started to go south. My mid laner, with the username "XxShadowNinja420xX," kept running into the enemy team alone and dying.
"Oh come on, ShadowNinja!" I groaned into my mic. "Are you trying to feed the entire enemy team? Losing to a support with 1hp you, DUMBASS!"
Our jungler chimed in, "Chill, dude. It's just a game."
"Just a game?" I scoffed, my voice rising an octave. "I'll have you know I once won a regional tournament for this 'just a game.' I eat, sleep, and breathe this game!"
As if on cue, ShadowNinja died again, giving the enemy team another kill and a significant gold advantage.
"For the love of all that is holy!" I exclaimed, my frustration reaching its peak. "ShadowNinja, are you playing with your monitor turned off? Because that's the only explanation I can think of for this level of garbage skill! You're so bad, you make bronze players look like pros!"
Just then, I heard a chuckle behind me. I spun around to see my sister Rhea standing in the doorway, an amused smirk on her face.
"Wow, brother," she said, trying to stifle her laughter. "And here I thought you were preparing for your big PIUT interview. Instead, you're breathing fire at your computer. I'm pretty sure I heard you threaten to report your entire team a minute ago."
I felt my face flush red with embarrassment. "I... I was just taking a quick break," I stammered. I glanced at the time on my computer and realized in shock that it was already four in the afternoon. I'd spent three hours playing without realizing it.
Growl~
Just then, my stomach let out a loud rumble, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. The pancakes from this morning felt like a distant memory.
Rhea raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'll make you a deal," she said, crossing her arms. "I'll whip up some sandwiches for us if you promise to quit flaming your teammates and play something for me instead."
"But-" I started to protest, glancing back at my screen where my team and I were about to contest the dragon, a crucial objective in the game.
"No buts," Rhea interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "Take it or leave it, Mr. 'I Once Won a Regional Tournament'."
I sighed, my growling stomach making the decision for me. "Fine," I grumbled, reaching for the surrender button. "But make it a turkey sandwich with extra cheese?"
Rhea rolled her eyes but nodded. "You got it, Faker," she said, referring to a famous pro player. "Now come on, log off and let's get some real work done. PIUT isn't going to be impressed by your KDA."
As I exited the game, wincing at the flood of angry messages from my teammates, I couldn't help but chuckle at myself. Here I was, worried about impressing PIUT, and I'd just spent the last three hours yelling at strangers over the internet. Maybe I did need that hike with Dad more than I realized.
I won't get banned for this, right? The fleeting worry crossed my mind as I shut down the computer.
We made our way down to the living room, the aroma of freshly made sandwiches already wafting from the kitchen. After wolfing down our late lunch, Rhea gestured towards the grand piano that stood in the corner of the room, a family heirloom that had been passed down through generations.
I took a seat at the bench, running my fingers lightly over the keys. "My dear sister," I said with exaggerated formality, "what would you like me to play for you?"
Rhea thought for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then her face lit up. "How about Liszt? Play a piece of his."
"Huh?" I blinked, caught off guard. Liszt was known for his incredibly difficult compositions, far beyond my usual repertoire of pop songs and simple classical pieces. "Rhea, you know I'm not-"
But as I started to protest, something strange happened. My hands seemed to move of their own accord, positioning themselves over the keys. Before I knew what was happening, my fingers began to dance across the ivory, producing the intricate, passionate notes of Liszt's "La Campanella."
I played with a skill and confidence I'd never known I possessed, my hands flying over the keys in a blur of motion. The room filled with the haunting, beautiful melody, and I found myself lost in the music, barely aware of my surroundings.
As the final notes faded away, I sat there, stunned. Rhea's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Rio," she whispered, "when did you learn to play like that?"